#it's me and i'm beating the block back with a stick so i only have this wip to offer for now

[mintjeru]

idk i just love seeing him smile

[aangelinakii]

Request - you’re surprised by how affectionate/clingy Bruce can be when he’s barely running on any sleep

HOW WAS YOUR DAY?

— hold you tight, squeeze you right.

summary : your husband isn't always the biggest fan of physical affection. however, you come to find that when his body is exhausted, the only thing it can think to do, is look for you.

note : thank you so much for requesting ! i also got a request very similar to this for jason, so if that was you or you're reading this, so sorry i haven't published it, i'm so blocked trying to write it 😭😭 hopefully i can publish it soon, but hopefully this is good in the meantime :)

note 2 : also the moodboard ??? the leopard print ???? making me feel expensive asf

although batman was known as the superhero to actually not be super, you felt your husband did have a superpower of his own; being able to run on fifteen minutes of sleep, if that.

so it was a surprise to you that, when bruce returned from work at the office, after a long night of patrolling the dingy streets of gotham, the toll of lack of sleep was taking over. neatly-gelled hair sticking out in places, thin skin beneath his eyes dark, his inability to smile at you as he pushed through the door to your shared bedroom.

you'd already gotten in bed, teeth brushed, face washed, tucked up in the sheets, when he finally came home. the pages of a book were open in your lap, room illuminated by the amber gleam of your bedside lamp.

"hey," you smiled up at him, tearing your eyes away from the print, only to find him walk straight through thr door into the adjacent en suite.

must've been a tough day; and you were back to your reading.

from the bathroom, you could hear the flush of the toilet, the rinse of the taps, the scrubbing of teeth, a few coughs here and there: the sounds of your husband washing away his day, preparing to settle in bed beside you.

when the door finally opened, and you glanced up, bruce's tie was undone and hanging beneath his upturned collar, the buttons down his shirt had been let loose and his toned torso was left on display, and his grey blazer was hanging from two fingers, the sleeves just barely dragging along the floor.

he seemed slightly worse for wear, but with the kids on patrol tonight, hopefully that would change by the morning.

obviously, it had not been easy convincing bruce to stay home tonight, but everyone agreed he should take it easy for one night, at the very least. his dedication to this city was admirable — one of the very reasons you had married him — but even the heroes need to save themselves sometimes.

"you okay, honey?" you piped up, slightly worried by his appearance now, and lack of communication since he'd returned home. eyes remaining on him as he pulled open the ornate wardrobe on his side of the bed, you folded a cat ear on your page and carefully closed it on the front cover.

only a couple beats passed before bruce blearily swirled around, the smile at the corner of his mouth not quite reaching his eyes as he tugged the snake of a necktie from his collar. "just exhausted like you wouldn't believe," he managed to chuckle, turning back around to the wardrobe to remove and hang his white shirt.

"i think i could believe." placing your closed book on your side table, you shifted under the sheets to face bruce as he swapped out his slacks for the pair of linen trousers he wore to sleep. "i didn't get to see you at all today. you weren't here when i went to sleep last night, and you were gone by the time i woke up."

it was difficult to not sound upset, which bruce noted as he peeled back the made covers on his side of the bed and slipped in beside you.

as soon as his aching body hit the memory foam mattress you shared, it was like the shadow of sleep took over, the way he sighed graciously and closed his eyes; but he was determined to stay awake, to talk with you, the one he had married.

marriages don't succeed if each night and morning is the same — a cold bed to fall asleep to, a cold bed to wake up to.

one of your husband's muscular arms pulled you in close, so his head was tucked below your chin. the musky scent of his hair wax filled your nostrils, an indication that, along with the stony form of it, he had failed to wash out his hair.

"how was your day?" the movement of his lips brushed against your chest, and the shiver that ran down your body only caused him to hold you closer, a second arm miraculously squirming beneath you. his voice was low, half-muffled by the fabric of your sleep top, half-muffled by the sleep threatening to take over.

the hum of a laugh brushed past your lips, and your fingertips came up to brush along the nape of bruce's neck, the spike of his coming-in hair after his most recent haircut prickling against your skin.

"probably not even half as bad as yours," you chuckled in response, fingers grazing higher, breaking through that cast of waxed-down hair. at your touch, your husband sighed against you once more, nuzzling in closer; as if close wasn't close enough.

you allowed a few beats to pass before continuing. "work went smoothly today, nothing too horrible. how about—"

the tickle of a stubble on its first legs brushed against the soft skin of your collarbone as bruce's lips, smooth after brushing his teeth, pressed a kiss against the base of your neck.

"how about yours?" you managed to ask after a beat, unconsciously tilting your neck. "and your night — i haven't seen you since you got home yesterday."

vibrating against your pulse, bruce's reply was gravelly, almost incoherent. "long, tired," you think he said. "want to sleep, but i missed you."

you're sure he fell into slumber after that, with the way his soft breaths against your neck fell into rhythm, and the way his lips fell slack, no longer concerned with kissing or speaking.

perhaps, although selfishly, you wished he would come back from work tired every day.

[myscenic]

Pairing: na jaemin x male reader

Genre: college au, smut

Warnings: top!jaemin btm!reader, jaemin is a jerk lol, swearing, protected sex, using a vibrator, public sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Synopsis: jaemin has been annoying y/n non stop for the past few months since they became roommates. one day, jaemin came up to y/n and asked him to play a game, if y/n wins, he's not gonna bother him anymore, if he wins y/n has to do anything he say.

🃁 Note: i had this idea for months and now I'm writing it. kinda not proofread cuz i wrote it in one go so there might be some mistakes, hope u don't mind :)

y/n sighed as he closed his locker. it had only been two months into his first year of college and he was already exhausted. his roommate jaemin was much too hyper and social for y/n's liking. while most found jaemin's constant cheerful attitude endearing, y/n found it extremely draining.

all he wanted was some peace and quiet to study, but it seemed like jaemin was always barging into their dorm room with his loud friends in tow. they would play music, laugh loudly, and generally disrupt y/n's studying. he had tried talking to jaemin about respecting his study time but it never seemed to stick.

it was just morning but y/n felt that he already had a long day. he just wanted to go back to his dorm and rest on his bed with his headphones on. but he couldn't because he still had five classes left until school is out.

y/n was about to walk and get to the history classroom but he saw someone coming up to him, of course it was jaemin. y/n internally groaned, preparing for yet another annoying interruption. as he walked passed, jaemin skipped in front of him, blocking his path.

"yah, y/n! don't leave so fast," jaemin said, still beaming.

y/n sighed, "what do you want?"

"aww don't be like that, i just wanted to walk with you." jaemin pouted.

against his better judgement, y/n found himself pausing. "fine, but make it quick."

“let's play a game!” jaemin said.

“I don't have time for games jaemin." y/n rolled his eyes.

“please!!!!” jaemin begged while shaking y/n.

“fine! you're so annoying.” y/n stopped jaemin

jaemin's grin widened. "we'll play rock paper scissors. best two out of three. if you win, i'll leave you alone to study in peace from now on. but if i win..." he trailed off mysteriously.

“if you win, i'll have to do anything you say?" y/n finished for him with a sigh.

he knew accepting such an open ended condition was risky with jaemin, but part of him was desperate for some quiet study time free of interruptions. it was worth the gamble if it meant finally having the dorm to himself.

"alright, you're on." y/n stuck out his fist. "rock, paper, scissors, shoot!"

their fists blurred as they each threw their choice. y/n's paper smashed jaemin's rock. "one for me," y/n said triumphantly.

jaemin pouted briefly before regaining his grin. "lucky shot. don't get too comfortable yet!"

they played again, this time jaemin throwing scissors to slice through y/n's paper. "tie!"

y/n studied jaemin's face, trying to anticipate his move. but jaemin's expression gave nothing away. they counted down together and revealed their final choices.

to y/n's dismay, jaemin's rock beat his scissors. "looks like i win," Jaemin sang, throwing an arm back around y/n's shoulders.

y/n sighed in defeat. "alright, you got me. i have to do what you say for winning the bet. just nothing too crazy, okay?"

jaemin's smirk grew wider as he pulled something out of his pocket. y/n's eyes widened in shock as he realized what it was - a vibrator. his was stunned.

jaemin's voice dripped with innocence as he held the vibrator up. "put this inside you for a day!" he said, his words laced with a sinister undertone.

y/n's face flushed with anger. "no fucking way i'm doing that, you perv!" he spat.

jaemin's grin only widened. "oh come on, y/n," he taunted. "you made a promise, didn't you? and you know what happens when you lose a bet."

y/n clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. he couldn't believe he had fallen into jaemin's trap.

"fine," y/n muttered under his breath, his voice laced with irritation. "i’ll do it, but don't think i’m enjoying this."

jaemin's eyes widened in surprise. "well, well, y/n," he chuckled. "looks like you finally came to your senses."

y/n shot him a glare, his eyebrows knitted together in defiance. "don't get too comfortable," he warned, his voice dripping with venom. "this doesn't mean you've won."

with those words hanging in the air, y/n slammed the bathroom door shut, his heart pounding in his chest. he couldn't believe he was actually going through with this, but he had made a promise, and as much as it pained him, he intended to keep it.

inside the bathroom, y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart and calm his nerves. he regarded the vibrator in his hand, his thoughts consumed by a mix of trepidation and a stubborn determination not to let jaemin have the satisfaction of breaking him.

he unzipped his jeans, the sound echoing through the quiet bathroom, and with a mixture of hesitation and resignation, pulled them down, exposing his legs. the room felt suffocating, the air heavy with a sense of anticipation and discomfort.

he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the vibrator, its sleek, smooth surface glinting under the harsh bathroom lights.

as he positioned himself on the edge of the cold porcelain sink, y/n's thoughts raced, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. he couldn't deny the tingling sensation that coursed through his body, a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity.

with a trembling hand, y/n brought the vibrator closer to his exposed entrance, his breath hitching in his throat. the room seemed to grow quieter, the sound of his own heartbeat filling his ears. he closed his eyes, trying to drown out the world around him.

and then, with a mix of determination and resignation, y/n slowly inserted the vibrator, his body tensing as it filled him. the feeling was strange and weird.

y/n's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal as he let out a shaky breath, his mind clouded with a mix of conflicting emotions. he couldn't help but wonder what jaemin's reaction would be, how he would gloat and revel in his victory.

y/n's heart sank as he walked into his class, only to find jaemin smirking and waving at him from the back seats. his eyes narrowed in frustration as jaemin signaled for him to come and sit with him. the classroom seemed to shrink in size, trapping y/n in an uncomfortable tension.

reluctantly, y/n made his way towards jaemin, his steps heavy with resentment. as he approached, he couldn't help but notice the empty seats around them. it seemed luck was on their side, as no one else had chosen to sit in such close proximity.

jaemin's smirk widened as y/n took the seat beside him, their isolation heightening the intensity of their encounter. the atmosphere grew thick with an unspoken challenge as the rest of the class carried on, oblivious to the power dynamics unfolding at the back.

with a low chuckle, jaemin leaned closer to y/n, his voice dripping with mischief. "well, well, look who decided to join me," he taunted, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and dominance. "i hope you're ready for a little private session, y/n."

the class carried on with an unexpected peace, and y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over him. jaemin, usually relentless in his torment, seemed strangely quiet and focused on his own work. it was an unsettling calm that sent shivers down y/n's spine.

just as y/n began to relax into the illusion of safety, the professor's voice broke through the silence, calling on y/n to answer a question. his heart skipped a beat, realizing that he was about to be thrust into the spotlight.

with a determined resolve, y/n stood up, ready to showcase his knowledge to the class. but as he did, he felt an unexpected vibration inside his body. his body tensed, a wave of pleasure coursing through him. he quickly covered it up with a well timed cough, trying to mask the sensations that threatened to overwhelm him.

his eyes shot daggers at jaemin, who sat beside him with a devious smirk on his face. it was clear that jaemin did this, using the remote to prank y/n in front of the entire class. the audacity of it all infuriated y/n, but jaemin's innocent expression only added fuel to the fire.

y/n's glare intensified, the mix of pleasure and anger warring within him. he was determined not to let jaemin's games break him. with a deep breath, he regained his composure and focused on the question at hand, determined to answer it flawlessly despite the distracting vibrations.

as y/n opened his mouth to speak, he could feel the vibrations intensify, threatening to disrupt his concentration. but he refused to let it deter him. with a steely gaze, he locked eyes with the professor, his voice steady and confident as he delivered his answer.

the classroom seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as y/n powered through the unwanted sensations. he wouldn't give jaemin the satisfaction of seeing him falter. not this time.

y/n's legs trembled uncontrollably, the persistent vibrations from the hidden vibrator wreaking havoc on his concentration. it became increasingly difficult to string together coherent thoughts, let alone answer the professor's question with clarity.

as the struggle intensified, the professor's concerned voice cut through the haze. "y/n, are you feeling alright?" the professor inquired, genuine worry etched on their face.

y/n's mind raced, desperately searching for an excuse to escape this torment. in a moment of desperation, he feigned illness, hoping to gain some respite. "i... i'm feeling kind of sick," he stammered, his voice strained.

professor xu's expression softened, concern evident in her eyes. "oh, i'm sorry to hear that. please, have a seat and take care of yourself," the professor responded with genuine care and compassion.

jaemin's chuckle quietly.

summoning every ounce of courage, y/n mustered the strength to ask the professor for permission to go to the bathroom. it was his only chance at escaping the relentless vibrations and regaining control over his own body.

"professor xu, may i be excused to use the restroom?" y/n requested, his voice strained but determined.

the professor nodded sympathetically, granting y/n's request. "of course, y/n. take your time and feel better," she replied, her caring tone contrasting sharply with jaemin's gleeful laughter.

y/n rose from his seat, his legs still trembling from the lingering effects of the vibrator. with a mix of frustration and relief, he made his way out of the classroom, determined to regain his composure and come up with a plan to turn the tables on jaemin.

as y/n entered the bathroom, a wave of relief washed over him. at least here, he could finally escape jaemin. the empty stalls beckoned to him, promising a momentary reprieve from jaemin's stupid little games.

but just as he was about to step inside to a stall and finally take out the vinrator, the sound of the bathroom door swinging open shattered his hopes. his eyes widened in disbelief as jaemin sauntered into the room, a wicked grin playing across his lips.

y/n’s breath caught in his throat, his body freezing in place. how could jaemin always manage to ruin even the smallest moments of respite?

jaemin's eyes gleamed with malicious intent as he locked gazes with y/n. "well, well, well," he sneered. "looks like you were trying to escape, huh?"

y/n's jaw clenched as he fought to maintain his composure. he refused to let Jaemin see how much he was affected by these games. "what do you want?" y/n spat.

jaemin's grinned, his gaze roaming over y/n's trembling form. "oh, just thought i'd join you for a little bathroom break," he taunted, taking deliberate steps closer to y/n. "after all, it's much more fun to watch you squirm in person."

y/n's frustration reached its boiling point as he mustered the strength to confront Jaemin. "stop this, you jerk!" he exclaimed, “you’re gonna be so fucking dead after this.”

jaemin's eyes narrowed, relishing in y/n's display of defiance. he responded. "oh, you want me to turn it up? sure thing!" he taunted, his fingers swiftly adjusting the remote to its highest level.

the sudden surge of intensity overwhelmed y/n, his body convulsing uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crashed over him. his resistance crumbled, and he couldn't hold back any longer. with a shuddering moan, he came, collapsing onto the cold bathroom floor, his body trembling in the aftermath.

y/n struggled to form coherent words, his voice strained and shaky. "y-you... bitch..." he managed to gasp, his breath ragged as he fought to regain his composure.

jaemin's laughter echoed through the bathroom, his amusement evident as he took in the sight of y/n's wet pants.

jaemin's laughter subsided as he saw the defeated state of y/n before him. with a smug smirk, he decided to grant y/n a brief respite. "alright, alright, fine," he sneered, turning off the vibrator.

y/n's body trembled as he lay on the floor, his breathing slowly returning to normal. the intense pleasure had left him drained and vulnerable. he mustered the strength to raise his gaze to meet jaemin's mocking eyes.

"you son of a bitch you almost made me cum during class!" y/n hissed.

jaemin's grin faltered for a moment, his dominant facade momentarily shaken by y/n's unexpected resistance. he chuckled softly, his tone dripping with condescension. "oh, how amusing," he replied, his voice filled with false sympathy. "i should’ve turned it higher then."

jaemin's sadistic smirk remained intact as he extended a hand to help y/n up from the cold bathroom floor. y/n, still reeling from the intense pleasure and the rush of conflicting emotions, hesitantly accepted the gesture, unaware of what jaemin had in store for him.

as y/n thought the torture was finally over, jaemin pulled him into one of the stalls. confusion washed over y/n. before he could voice his confusion, jaemin's voice dripped with anticipation and mischief. "i’m not done having fun yet," he teased, relishing in y/n's bewilderment.

y/n's eyes widened. "no way you're doing it here!" he protested, his words laced with anger and desperation.

jaemin's chuckled. "but y/n, you seem to have forgotten," he taunted. "you lost, remember? and when you lose, you have no say."

y/n's mind raced, searching for any shred of control he could hold onto. he mustered his courage and shot back. "at least not in public, you bastard!" he spat.

jaemin's smirk deepened, his confidence unwavering. "ohh~ so you mean we can do it in our dorms, huh?" he mused. he leaned in closer, his hot breath grazing y/n's ear, his smirk sending shivers down y/n's spine. "well, too bad. you made me so fucking hard and i’m gonna fuck you now."

“strip.”

y/n did as jaemin commanded him to strip. with a heavy sigh, y/n reluctantly began to remove his clothes, piece by piece.

his face flushed with humiliation as each garment fell to the floor, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in front of his tormentor. the sound of fabric hitting the ground echoed in the confined space of the bathroom stall, intensifying the rawness of the moment.

jaemin watched with a predatory gaze. he savored every inch of y/n's body, his eyes lingering on y/n's exposed skin, his attention fixated on the curves and contours that adorned y/n's form.

y/n's heart pounded in his chest as he stood before jaemin, completely naked.

jaemin's voice took on a new tone as he uttered the unexpected words, "damn, you look beautiful..." the shift in his demeanor caught y/n off guard, momentarily confusing him amidst the whirlwind of emotions. he couldn't help but blush at the unexpected compliment, his cheeks turning a shade of crimson.

as jaemin's fingers grazed against y/n's exposed skin, a surprising tenderness accompanied his touch. the gentle caress sent shivers down y/n's spine. the softness of jaemin's touch seemed comforting.

y/n's blush deepened as he felt the warmth of jaemin's hand explore his body with surprising delicacy. fingertips traced lightly along y/n's curves.

a surge of surprise coursed through y/n as jaemin swiftly stripped off his own clothes, revealing his throbbing, erect cock. y/n's eyes widened, unable to tear his gaze away from the sight before him.

y/n couldn't help but let out a mumbled curse under his breath, the word "jerk" slipping past his lips. jaemin's grinned at y/n's reaction, clearly relishing in his power over him. "oh, y/n, i know you're secretly enjoying this too," he chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement. "look at your cock, it's betraying you," he taunted.

y/n's face flushed even deeper, his embarrassment mingling with a hint of reluctant pleasure. he averted his gaze, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke. "shut up and just do it already," he muttered.

jaemin's licked his lips. "alright~," he replied. jaemin took a condom packet out of his pants’ pocket. he wrapped the condom around his cock and closed the distance between them, his hand firmly gripping his own pulsating cock. the air crackled with tension as he positioned himself, ready to take what he desired.

as jaemin entered y/n, a sharp gasp escaped y/n's lips, immediately followed by a loud, unabashed moan. the sensation of jaemin filling him sent waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

jaemin smirked. "you wouldn't want to get caught, would you?" he teased, his words laced with a twisted sense of control. "be quiet," he said coldly.

y/n's moans transformed into stifled whimpers as he desperately tried to comply with jaemin's demand. the struggle to keep his voice at a hushed level only heightened the intensity of the experience, pushing y/n to the edge of his limits.

with each forceful thrust, jaemin expertly hit y/n's sweet spot. y/n's mind was consumed by the overwhelming sensation, he wanted to moan out loud. yet, he fought against it, struggling to maintain the facade of silence as jaemin's relentless teasing continued.

jaemin, noticing y/n's internal struggle, couldn't resist taunting him further. his voice dripped with cruel amusement as he whispered, his breath hot against y/n's ear, "i can see how badly you want to scream, to let evyerine know how good you’re taking my cock. but you know what happens if you do, don't you?" the threat laced within his words only fueled y/n's inner battle.

y/n's body quivered with the desperate need to release his pent-up moans, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. jaemin keep stroking his cock, pushing him closer to the edge, the pressure mounting with every electrifying sensation. y/n's mouth opened slightly, a suppressed whimper escaping, but he quickly clamped his lips shut, stifling the sound.

as jaemin's thrusts became sloppy, his control slipping away, both he and y/n could feel the impending release drawing near. the intensity of their connection grew with each erratic movement, pushing them both closer to the edge of climax.

"i'm so close, y/n," jaemin gasped. a wicked smile playing on his lips. "let's cum together, yeah?" he suggested.

y/n, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through his body, could only manage a nod in response. his mind was consumed by the impending release.

jaemin's thrusts became more erratic, his grip on y/n's hips tightening as he approached the edge.

with a final, powerful thrust, jaemin let out a moan, his body convulsing as he spilled his hot seed deep into the condom. y/n could feel the wariness of jaemin’s cum. his body trembling as he released his own pleasure, their moans blending together.

both y/n and jaemin were left breathless, their bodies entangled in the aftermath of their intense release. their gazes locked, satisfaction and connection shining in their eyes.

as the waves of pleasure gradually subsided, y/n and jaemin were left panting, their bodies still intertwined, basking in the aftermath of their intense release. the room was filled with heavy breathing and the scent of sex lingering in the air.

jaemin slowly pulled out, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he admired the sight of his cum fully filling the condom. with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he held up the condom, examining the milky contents within.

"look at all that cum," jaemin said with a hint of pride in his voice. he brought the condom closer to y/n's face, teasingly waving it in front of him. "see what you made me do? you made me cum so fucking hard."

y/n's cheeks flushed of embarrassment and arousal as he glanced at the evidence of their passionate encounter.

jaemin chuckled softly. "you loved it, didn't you? feeling me empty myself inside you.”

y/n's breath hitched at jaemin's words, a shiver running down his spine. his gaze remained fixed on the condom, the explicit reminder of the pleasure they had indulged in together.

jaemin continued to tease y/n. he leaned close to y/n's ear.

"it's such a pity that i can't fill my seed inside of you," jaemin whispered.

y/n's blushed. he mustered up the courage to respond, feeling embarrassed.

"shut up!" y/n snapped, “you’re lucky this time…”

"oh, feisty, aren't we?" jaemin chuckled. "but we both know deep down that you love it~"

y/n stumbled over his words, his voice coming out in a soft, stuttering tone.

"w-whatever," y/n managed to say, his voice quivering. "we still have classes... we should... we should get dressed and go."

jaemin's smirk softened slightly, his eyes flickered at y/n's flustered state.

"fine, fine," jaemin said boringly.

jaemin, still wearing a satisfied grin, helped y/n gather their clothes scattered around the room. with gentle hands, he guided y/n into his clothes, taking extra care to ensure he was properly dressed. as y/n slipped on his pants, jaemin's eyes lingered on the damp spot between his legs, a reminder of their recent intimate escapade.

noticing y/n's wet pants, jaemin couldn't resist a teasing remark. he grabbed his jacket, wrapping it around y/n's waist. his touch was lingering, his fingers brushing against y/n's skin as he secured the jacket.

"i don't think anyone would want to see your wet pants," jaemin teased. his playful taunting earned him a soft hit from y/n, accompanied by a deeper blush that spread across his cheeks.

“i hate you..” y/n muttered.

with a final chuckle, jaemin left the bathroom, leaving y/n alone to gather his thoughts and finish getting ready for his classes. as the door closed, the room fell into a momentary silence, giving y/n a chance to reflect on the encounter they had just shared.

hours later, the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day. jaemin spotted y/n walking towards the dorms, and he quickened his pace to catch up with him.

“hey, wait for me!” jaemin shouted.

once they reached the dorm together, y/n wasted no time. he grabbed jaemin's hands and led him straight to his bedroom. jaemin was confused.

without hesitation, y/n pushed jaemin onto the bed, pinning his hands on the bedsheet. a smirk danced across his lips as he leaned in.

"i think we have some unfinished business to attend to, don't you think?"

[covetyou]

the best of you, honey, belongs to me

part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) chapter warnings: dub con, unprotected P in V, oral (f receiving), creampie, choking, spanking, mild praise kink, potential assault, derogatory names (slut), drug reference, unspecified age gap. word count: 5.5k chapter summary: Joel Miller is an asshole. An asshole and a liar. Right?

A/N: HOLY SHIT I DID IT I FINISHED SOMETHING. I did it Ma!

Thank you all so much for sticking with me this month. Your support has been silly lovely and I genuinely love you all a little bit.

Ty to @iamasaddie and @jupiter-soups for being the first people to cheer me on from the sidelines. You both made me excited about my own writing, which feels weird but I'm very grateful to you.

I hope you like it, thank you, goodbye, see you soon, I love you.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future work

song: NFWMB by Hozier

Joel Miller was a massive fucking liar, you'd realized.

You probably would have been able to guess that before, but as you were stood here, back pushed against a brick wall in an alleyway, it was clear as day.

You'd been dragged down here by two men - a small rat like one and a taller one with a mean look on his face - and thrown against the wall. Your back smarted, and you tried to reason with them, but they were tugging at your clothes and threatening you before you could think of anything useful to say.

They were torn off you as quick as they were on you.

And now, heavy fists were pounding into them, beating into their faces and stomachs as they slouched pathetically against the brick opposite. Joel had found you, somehow noticed in a crowd of people that you were suddenly gone. He had someone with him, they looked similar enough that they could have been family, and both were beating into the men that had dragged you down the alley.

A yelled threat and the two men were hobbling away, beaten and bloody and holding onto themselves in their retreat.

"You okay?"

You're looking at Joel, so it takes a second to register that the other man is addressing you. You slowly turn to him - definitely related - and nod. You're stunned and a little winded more than anything.

Joel is flexing his fist, staring daggers at you. His companion doesn't say another word to you, but you hear him talk in hushed tones to Joel, before Joel mutters something back to him and he walks away.

You should probably be more scared of being alone down an alley with Joel Miller than the other two guys but, though it confuses you, you feel safer than ever. He'd protected you, saved you, and that's how you knew that Joel Miller was a fucking liar.

"C'mon," he growls to you, walking away and expecting you to follow. Of course, you follow, even through the low lying anger and frustration that's still simmering in your belly.

As you walk behind, you watch as he clenches his fist and flexes his hands over and over. Before you know it you're outside his apartment block, being roughly dragged up the stairs by a heavy hand on your arm, dragged down a corridor and deposited in front of his front door. He doesn't look at you as he fishes his key out from an inner pocket on his coat.

"Saw you fuckin' lookin' at me, I told you not to do that shit," he says angrily, throwing you into his apartment and slamming the door closed behind you.

"They hurt you?" You shake your head. "They touch you?" You shake your head again.

His nostrils flair. You can almost hear the bones in his hands creak from how hard he's clenching his fists.

And so you poke the fucking bear again, because what is there to lose. You'd spent all week mulling it over, getting angrier and angrier as you talked yourself in circles. He didn't like you and you definitely didn't like him. You didn't want to kiss him, but also you did. Neither of you cared, but maybe both of you did. Everything was feeling like a lie and all you wanted was the truth. So you poke, bracing yourself for impact.

"You're a liar," you whisper, pulling at the sleeves of your coat.

His eyes immediately snap to yours, and he's making quick work of the distance between you. He's toe to toe with you when he stops, looking down at you, fists still firmly clenched at his sides.

"What did you fuckin' say to me?"

You swallow before you speak again, meek as a mouse but a fire in your belly. "You're a liar. You said you wouldn't look out for me."

"S'that why you kept lookin'? S'that why you got yourself in trouble? To prove some fuckin' point?"

You frown at him - it hadn't been intentional. You were glaring at him when they grabbed you, stuffing a gloved hand over your mouth to keep your scream from being heard. The people around you didn't care, didn't stop what they were doing or go for help. They just left you. But Joel came anyway.

"You think I asked for that?" you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. You never have and never will cry in front of this man, not like this anyway. You watch as his mouth curls to sneer at you, the fire turning into a sick feeling bubbling up through your belly as you watch his lip raise.

You don't know what comes over you, but you push at his chest, wanting to touch him and get him away from you in equal measure. It takes him by surprise, the force of your push making him stumble back.

You both stare at each other, unmoving for a beat, both shocked that you'd dare to touch him let alone push him. You think maybe you should run, get away before he gets you, but your reactions are slower than his, and you're raising your arms to protect yourself as he makes one big stride over to you.

The blow doesn't come.

He's pulling at your coat, jerking it down your arms, before tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It gets caught, and you hear a tear as it catches on your arm, but he keeps pulling anyway. The fabric splits from your body, tattered and ruined as it's discarded on the floor.

"You think I would fuckin' hit you?" he says angrily as he tugs at the rest of your clothes. "You think I would fuckin' hurt you in any way you don't want?"

You have no time to answer before he's manhandling you again, pushing you roughly into his room.

He pushes you forward onto his bed, bending you over and holding you there as he reaches around and tugs at your zipper. You fight to stand, but the weight of his hand keeps you in place as he pulls your pants and panties down in one, leaving them around your knees so you can't run to escape even if you wanted to. Any thought that you could, should, run is already gone. You don't want to, not any more. Whatever he wants to do, whatever anger he has for you, you want it. You want to feel his anger, you want it to burn into yours until you combust.

A hand claps down on your ass and you feel the sting ripple up your back. He wanted that one to hurt, and it did. Another sharp slap hits your other cheek soon after, the sting of pain made worse by your cold skin, but you're glad for it because you wanted that one to hurt too.

Both his hands rub across your cheeks, drawing a groan from you as he massages them and soothes the sting before rough fingers pull you apart. He always did like looking.

He wastes no time in plunging his wet tongue into your pussy from behind, Joel's hands yanking your pants down the to your feet to spread you open further for him. "You're fuckin' dripping," he says between breaths as you push back into his face.

"You this wet from those guys?" You don't answer, so he slaps a hand down on your ass again.

"Fuckin' answer me."

"N-no. M'not wet from them."

"Then why," he says, breathing deeply as he devours your pussy, the cold of his nose tickling your hole as the scruff on his jaw scratches at your inner thighs. "Tell me. Tell me why this needy fuckin' pussy is so wet."

"Because of you," you push your face down into his bed, biting at his sheets as his tongue swipes over your clit, already so sensitive your legs are shaking. You arch your back, exposing more of your cunt to his relentless tongue. There's no question or thread of shame in your mind why you like this - why you're already so close to coming undone just from him being an asshole and playing with your pussy.

"Me, huh? Little hole's desperate for me? Look at her cryin' out to be stuffed full, drippin' all over the place."

You couldn't help the drip of slick from your cunt, or the way his words always worked to make it worse. You knew you were a mess, but by now you knew he liked it, even if he taunted you for it. You felt how his grasping hands got firmer, saw as his cock got harder, just at the sight of your glistening pussy.

Two of his thick fingers are pushing into you, the cold feel of them startling you as they slide home. You'd spent a week thinking of his fist buried in your cunt, but his fingers still felt so thick, so much, plunged into your dripping wet heat as they were.

"If you make a mess on my sheets I'll rub your fuckin' nose in it. Act like an animal I'll treat you like one."

If you were an animal, he was fucking feral - a snarling, growling, feral animal of a man that you just couldn't resist.

His fingers curl, dragging against your walls harshly as his tongue slides against your clit again, swirling around the stretched rim where his fingers are embedded in you, tasting you, before slurping at your clit once more. You grind your hips back against his face, trying to get more friction on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers. They're warmed now, the burning heat from your cunt drawing the chill from his bones.

The wet squelch in your cunt is obscene as he laps at your clit, drawing you so close already, your feet still tangled in your pants and your moans muffled by the push of your face into his sheets.

Joel's fingers are gone just as your orgasm starts to raise its head over the horizon, ruining any high you were so close to getting. You slam your fist down on the bed in frustration, ignoring his gruff laugh as you muffle your fuck into his bed. His knees crack as he stands, undoing his belt and pulling his cock from his pants. He doesn't stroke himself, he doesn't need to, he just squeezes himself at the base, lines himself up with your hole and pushes forward.

A strangled moan pulls from your chest as he sheathes himself, pulling your hips back flush with his as his cock impales you in one movement.

"Fuck, if this pussy don't just love this dick."

He draws back slowly, pulling any slick from your cunt back with him, coating himself in you, before slamming back to the hilt.

"Uhh, f-fuck."

You feel him draw back again, holding himself back from you, tip barely inside your cunt, teasing himself at your entrance. Before he can, you push back onto his cock, taking him in with a deep moan.

He stifles a groan, fingers digging into your hips, pinching the flesh in his grip. You try to move, to fuck yourself on his length, but his grip won't let you. You can feel him throb inside you, and you hope he's already close to coming, that he wants you that much he can barely hold himself back.

The thought is gone as soon as he starts pulling back again and thrusting forward quickly, repeatedly slamming his hips into your ass and pulling you back onto him. The sharp slap of his hips and wet squelches of your pussy are muffled only by your moans and Joel's shaky breathing.

"Tell me - you fuck anyone else - like this," you say through staccato gasps as his cock collides with your cervix. "If you say you do - I'll know - you're even more of a - fucking liar."

He throws you forward, pulling out and standing glaring down at you when you twist to look at him, finally able to kick your pants and shoes off your feet.

"You think you're special?" he growls. You take him in, his massive figure stood there still clothed, cock hanging lewdly from his pants and covered in your slick. You want to lick it, taste your own pussy on his cock and catch the drip of precum from his tip before it's wasted.

"No. I'm not. And neither are you," you spread your legs as you say it, willing him to come back, to start fucking you again, but not daring to ask for it. "You're an asshole. I just like that you make me feel good."

"Feeling's mutual, sweetheart." He's pouncing on you before you can process it, yanking his shirt over his head before pulling your spread thighs across his clothed ones, notching at your entrance and sliding straight back in.

You thud back down onto the bed with the force of his cock fucking into you, staring up at him with an open mouth, panting as he starts to cant into you once again. His hands are holding your thighs against his as he rocks so deeply into you you think you can see your lower belly pulse with each movement.

His hands slide down your thighs, pulling you apart where his cock joined with you, swiping a thumb up the slick gathered there and rubbing it around your clit in rough circles. You reach down, hand trying to meet his and hold him there, but he swats you away. You move further instead, grabbing at the waistband of his pants and tugging down, slipping them over his ass before he's pushing you back again. Your fingers drag across his abdomen as you fall back again, watching a shudder crawl through him with the graze of your fingertips.

You try not to smile when his hand falls from you and shimmies his pants further down his legs, over his knees and kicking them off the end of the bed whilst still buried in you. You can see all of him again now, his broad shoulders, dark nipples, the trail of hair down to his cock where it disappears inside you. His thick thighs, spread almost as lewdly as yours, dusted in hair, the muscles flexing with each rock into you. He doesn't look at you as you drink him in, eyes focused on your cunt as he pulls you back open.

He spits down onto your clit. You whine when it collides with your skin and starts to trickle down your spread pussy. You whine again when his thumb draws it up and around your clit, massaging it into you, each swipe of his thumb jerking your swollen nub and bringing you closer to coming undone as he pounds you hard into his mattress.

You throw your head back with the feeling of it all, moaning loudly into the open room.

"You'd let me do anythin' to you, huh."

"Yeah," you admit, head still thrown back and eyes closed. You would, you couldn't even say why, just that you knew you would. That for all the pain at the end of the world, this was a pain that was worth it, a stretch that made you ache in the right ways, the sting of his palm that electrified you, made you feel alive.

"You're just beggin' for me to slap your pussy pink again, ain't you? Fill that pretty little asshole up with my cum. Wear you like a fuckin' glove." He's growling, muttering obscene things to you, things you both know to be true. "You'd let me fuck you anyway I want, even share you with whoever I want."

You nod, stupidly bobbing your head along with the rhythm of him sliding into you.

"This pussy is mine," he growls. "Say it."

"Yours!" you pant, you didn't want it to be anyone elses any more, what was the point when he'd ruined you for anyone else. "M'yours!" Fuck.

"All o' you? That's more than I even asked for sweetheart."

And he's falling forward over you, hands planting either side of your head for leverage as he pounds into you harder than he ever has, abandoning your clit just as you were about to fall apart underneath him yet again. Any words to correct yourself are gone as you groan, pulling your brows together and watching him. His face relaxes and contorts over and over, sweat beads at his temples. You know his hair would feel damp if only you would reached up to touch it.

He shifts to his elbows, the sweat from his chest and belly mingling with yours, making your bodies slick as they slide together. You watch his mouth open as he pants, the heat of his breath on your face cooling the sweat dripping down your neck. You can smell him, see every imperfection of his skin in such detail that you're struck dumb, angry, and desperate all in one swoop. Something so close still feels so far away, and a frustrated sob is bubbling from you before you can stop it.

Something inside you snaps with that. You'd be chasing it for weeks, denied something you hadn't even dared to ask for.

You grab him by the throat as his hips roll into you, gasping out a breath before you grit your teeth and say it, forcing him to look directly at you.

"Fucking kiss me."

He laughs in your face and you fight down the shame for even daring to ask for something you wanted, something you deserved. "Is that what you want?"

You nod, squeezing his throat beneath your fingertips.

He pulls back from you - you want to claw at him and hold him to you but he pushes your hand against his throat with his own. He looks down between you, your pussy creaming around his cock and swollen clit twitching with each thrust.

You tighten the grip on the sides of his throat, feeling the hard thud of blood through his veins at your fingertips, drawing his eyes back to yours.

"Fuck, that's it, sweetheart."

He suddenly throws your arm down from his neck, pinning both if your hands down as he puts his weight on top of you.

"That what you want?" he grits out. "That what you keep coming back for? Thought you were whoring yourself out for pills, not a fuckin' kiss. Are you that fuckin' desperate?"

He's goading you, you know he is. Still, you want to scream at him, but his face is close to yours now, so terrifyingly close you could kiss him by accident if you weren't careful. Suddenly you're terrified of it, desperate but terrified.

His aquiline nose slides up the side of your face, and you stop breathing. "You want this?"

"Please." You'll be angry at yourself for begging later, right now you'd say anything if it meant he'd finally give it to you.

He drags his nose across your face, rubs his nose against yours. He's practically still inside you now, the shallow rock of his hips the only movement either of you are making. "You sure?"

"Please," you whisper again, breath ghosting across his lips. You try not to move your mouth too much, barely muttering the word in case your mouth touches his. His own breath huffs against your mouth, teasing you with the taste of him.

"S'all you want, huh?"

"Mm." He's so close you don't trust yourself to speak.

His nose nuzzles into yours, the hair on his face tickling at your sensitive top lip. Then you feel it, the bow of his top lip swiping against yours, not kissing just feeling.

You're frozen, terrified to move, terrified to feel what you've been desperate for for months.

But you made it through the worst days at the end of the world. What was fear any more except another lie.

You press your lips forward, done with waiting, done with being patient, done with putting others first. You want it so badly that finally, finally, you take it.

At the first press of your lips to his, he releases your wrists, sliding his hand down the curve of your body to hold you to him. You moan into his mouth, blinking back angry tears as you wrap your own hand around his neck to pull him in further. At first he doesn't move against you, letting you kiss the soft swell of his mouth, but when you slip your tongue against his bottom lip and breathe him in, his mouth opens and his lips press to yours, giving back everything you're taking.

"This all you wanted this whole time?" he whispers against your mouth.

"Not all I wanted," you mumble. Your eyes are closed, head dizzy from breathing so deeply, from finally doing the thing you'd literally only dreamed of.

"No?"

"No," you swallow before continuing, the shame of admission gone now. What shame could there even be when it was so obvious. You open your eyes just as you speak. "I wanted all of it."

"Yeah?" You think from the look on his face that he needed to hear it as much as you needed to say it, so you kiss him again, just because you can.

He presses his hips into you harder, making you gasp straight into his mouth, the sharp pressure of his cock so much with the fuzzy high in your head. He does it again, kissing you of his own volition this time and swallowing your moan down as he starts fucking you again, one hand settling in your hair as the other wanders your body. You can still taste the salty sweetness of your own pussy on his mouth as you lick into him.

Your own hand dances with his over your body, teasing your own nipples and stroking down, down, until you push your hand between your bodies and feel between your legs. You're a mess, sweat and the wetness from your pussy merged together to create a slip and slide of slick as he slides his cock into your tender hole. You stroke at the base of him and feel another shudder work its way through his body before you move your hand back to yourself, circling your own clit as he rocks his length into you.

"You gonna make yourself come on my cock?" he says, looking down where your hand strokes at your clit. You nod, lips brushing his, capturing him in another kiss as you moan, so close already.

"Good fuckin' girl. You rub that pretty pussy. She just fuckin' loves this dick." True.

His cock in your pussy, his hands in your hair, holding your body, your own hand strumming your clit with well practiced movements, the feeling of his lips on your own. It's all so much so quickly, everything you've been craving for so long, that the fire in your body burns so bright it explodes out of every pore before you can hold it off.

"F-fuck, Joeeel."

You come with a cry, every part of your body shuddering and convulsing, hand twitching over your own cunt as you desperately try to keep the high going as long as you can, until you're so sensitive all you can do is grip your own thigh, your nails creating half moons in the soft flesh.

"You're all mine, huh?" he says gently, still inside you now as he feels your walls pulse and twitch around him. You nod, floating from his kisses and your own high. "No one else gonna touch this pussy. S'all mine."

"S'yours."

"Needy, needy, pussy," he grunts into your mouth, as your cunt quivers around him, an aftershock pulled from you at just his words and the rasp of his coarse hair against your clit.

It hits you then, for all he called you needy you never actually asked for what you wanted, what you needed. You never took it either. Not until now. But he always did.

"I think you're just as needy as I am," you whisper.

He clicks his tongue and cocks his head. "I never said I wasn't, sweetheart."

A quick shuffle of his knees later he's pounding into you with abandon, your cunt had barely stopped throbbing by the time he started again.

"Ohhhh, god."

You don't move to kiss him again, he's chasing whatever high he needs now and you let him take it, back arching, moaning as he pounds away, cock slipping inside you with ease. The hand in your hair pulls harder, tugging your head back. You think this is going to be it, he's going to come inside you like this, but then wet kisses are being peppered across your neck and collar bone, his moans sounding more like those of a common whore than his usual grunts.

You want to come again already, so you grip him tight, hands roaming from your body to his arms, his shoulders. Your nails claw at him, pulling him closer and pushing him away, trying to tear him apart with your bare hands as he fucks you.

He moves quicker still, head buried in the crook of your neck as he holds onto you and slams home over and over. You think he's almost there - hope he is because how much more screaming can your voice take before it breaks - when he's yanking your hair again. His mouth latches to your own in a sloppy kiss, tongue fighting with yours and his cock squelching into the wet heat of your pussy as he comes undone, groaning into your mouth, shuddering, fucking ropes of thick cum into your empty cunt and never stilling for a second.

His hips stop bucking against yours before his mouth does. He kisses you softer, groaning, slowing down to catch his breath before he finally removes his lips from yours with a shuddering gasp, screwing his eyes shut.

Cum practically gushes out of you when he pulls out, and you expect him to get up and leave like he has every time before. He doesn't. Instead, he rests his head next to yours, kissing your shoulder, the warmth of his body encasing yours.

Your face finds his, nudging against his jaw. He shifts, letting you in, and your mouth finds his again. You kiss him until you turn to liquid, sighing deeply and tracing soft patterns on his skin and your own with your fingertips.

Eventually, he releases your hair, and you think the moment is truly over. But then he rolls over, flopping down next to you, the weight of him dipping the mattress and making you shift closer to his side. He closes his eyes, putting an arm behind his head, and you take the chance to look down at his naked body, his cock now soft between his legs.

The feeling that bubbles up through you rips out of your mouth in a laugh. Joel's eyes fly open, finding yours, making you laugh harder. Tears are falling from your eyes - the absurdity of it all too much to bear. So angry at him, at yourself, for weeks now. Wanting something for so long, something that it turns out you could have just reached out and grabbed. Driving yourself near mad over wanting to be touched in a way you thought he never would, when maybe all along he thought you never wanted it. You're left with nothing but small giggles and an aching belly by the time the feeling bubbles out of you completely.

You wonder how all of this must look to him. How small and naive you must look, just a silly girl giggling in his bed. If he thinks it, he doesn't voice it. He just shakes his head softly and raises an eyebrow at you, as if to ask if you're done.

You lie next to each other in silence after that. He doesn't tell you to leave, and you don't move to either. You just lie there, arms barely touching, sweat drying and cooling both of your bodies.

You'd always been okay with silence, more often than not finding yourself with nothing to say, especially these days. But something in this moment tells you to speak, and so you do, filling the silence with your own voice before the opportunity can be taken from you.

"Thanks for helping me out there," you start softly. "I know you said you wouldn't, and I'm not trying to prove a point I just... Thank you. I was looking at you. I couldn't help it. I've been... angry. At you, yeah, but mostly myself. So I was looking, but I didn't realize it was that much, I swear and I -"

"S'okay," he stops your ramble so simply and quickly you frown, an involuntary tut falls of your mouth. He casts a glance over to you, almost chastising as he continues. "Ain't lyin' when I say it though. You gotta stop lookin' at me. I really can't be lookin' out for you, just got lucky this time. There's assholes bigger than me out there."

"Doubt it," you scoff. He raises an eyebrow and runs his tongue along his teeth, daring you to say more. You don't.

You fiddle with the sheets between you, biting at your cheek and bottom lip, so much more to say but the words just ending up jumbled in your head.

"I wasn't lying either. When I said I want it. All of it." That's a start, you figure.

"You don't want me. I could be anyone."

"Maybe I don't. Never said I did. I just know that I want whatever this is," you gesture between the two of you. Whatever had started as a transaction was clearly more than that now. You enjoyed the feel of him, the way he touched you and talked to you. You enjoyed the escape of it all. It was nice to know another person in the world knew you were there, that you existed, cared about you in some way, even if it was only enough to make sure you came. "Sex was never really any good with anyone else anyway."

"I've got other people I have arrangements with. I've got Tess, I've got -"

"I know. That doesn't matter. I'm not asking you to change. I don't want anything to change. I just want..." you trail off, shrugging. "I just want this for me. I don't care what it is for you, as long as it's good too."

He looks at you, taking you in with curious eyes, working out if what you're saying is true. If really, in this moment here and now, you want this exactly as it is. "I can do that."

You think that he gets it, understands it all more than you could ever explain. The thought of that alone is more comforting than any touch he could give you. It could have been a sweet moment, if that's what you two were. But it's not, and still he ruins it anyway.

"Pussy really is no one else's but mine, huh?" There's an edge to his voice that tells you he's holding back a laugh, and you could fucking hit him.

This time, you do. You relish in the oof that leaves his body as your hand collides with the side of his chest. He catches your wrist before you can land another soft blow, your skin prickling in his firm grip. You know from the feel of his hand and the look in his eye that you'll fuck him again before you leave his apartment today.

It only takes a few minutes for you to prove yourself right. You climb on top of him all soft curves and bouncing tits, hair a mess, face scrunched and jaw relaxed as you ride him, kissing him as much as you've ever wanted. Even when your legs ache, when he starts fucking up into you with each bounce of your hips, you carry on, wanting to take from him again and have him fill you.

He never tells you to leave, but eventually you get up, putting your clothes on, tucking your torn t-shirt around you. You expect your dad will be wondering where you've got to soon.

Joel sits and watches you dress until you're stood fully clothed, looking at him lying nude on his bed, a total contrast to what happened in this room just a week ago.

You think for a moment, waiting as he gets up and walks with you back through his apartment. You take in the last few hours. The last week. The last few months of knowing Joel Miller.

"Joel?"

"Mm."

You look him up and down as you stand in front of his door, still naked as the day he was born. "You're a massive slut, you know that, right?"

He laughs. Full bellied, head back, laughs.

"Takes one to know one, sweetheart," he says with a smirk, winking as he unlatches the front door.

You kiss Joel again as you leave his apartment. He can't stop you now, and you don't think he would ever even try.

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[everythingisromant1c]

The First Step

carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary - The first thing you do when you get back to your hometown of Chicago is pay Carmen, your oldest friend and maybe more than that, a visit at The Beef. When you land yourself a job there, the more he sees of you, the more he seems to push you away for reasons he isn't yet brave enough to tell you, even if all he wants is to be with you. But if he'd ever known you, he'd know that you weren't going to back down without a fight.

type - one shot (its a long one)

word count [16.6k]

tags: Carmy Berzatto x f!reader, friends to lovers, pining, slight miscommunication, a little angst, "stop pushing me away", hurt/comfort, and new promises.

warnings: swearing, mentions of grief/death, panic attack

a/n: check this out also on my ao3! <33

Carmen was tired, to say the least. He'd been working himself to the bone every damn day for the past few months, trying to get The Beef to a good, stable place. Somehow, as time went by, he'd only managed to dig himself a deeper grave. With the money they owed to Cicero, he knew, deep down, that the restaurant was, for lack of a better word, fucked.

But he kept holding on. He couldn't let go of it. He'd wonder, in the depths of night, why he was fighting so hard for this place when he could easily sell it to Cicero. If, maybe, he was holding onto someone. He didn't amuse the thought. He physically couldn't.

So he threw himself deeper into his work. Deeper into making The Beef a reputable place, with a professional working staff and high-quality food. It didn't matter that the others looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Maybe he had. He didn't have the time to worry about that. He didn't have time for much of anything, which is why Sydney had been pushing for new hires. She'd said that they needed more hands in the kitchen, more workers up front, more of everything. They should be desperate.

That's why she'd spent hours putting up posters for new hires on what felt like practically every block of Chicago within a mile radius from the restaurant. And that's why you'd happened to stumble upon one of them while walking to a favorite pizza place of yours that you'd loved as a kid. It was one of the first things you'd planned on doing ever since you'd gotten back into the city. That and meeting up with some old friends who you'd missed with an ache in your chest. So, seeing the poster clinging to the utility pole saying that The Beef was hiring had your heart skip a little beat at the prospect of not only getting a job but seeing the people who had basically been your family growing up again.

It was a Friday morning when you'd stopped by The Beef, the rusted white sign sticking out like a sore thumb. A rush of aromas wafted against your nose when you walked in, and the front door made a jingling sound that was almost nostalgic.

No one was at the front register. In fact, you couldn't see anyone at all, only hear some muffled voices coming from the kitchen in the back. The voices grew louder as seconds went by, and you could tell they were shouts. The kitchen door then flew open, finally revealing the argument going on between two people, one being an unfamiliar woman in an apron, and the other being none other than Richie Jerimovich.

"Richie, I swear to God-"

"I already told you," came the booming voice of Richie, neither of them noticing your presence at the door. "Your foo foo plans for this place are not gonna fly, Sweetheart!"

With the way Richie was talking to her, you could see the woman's patience wearing thin as she rested a hand on her temple with shut eyes as he carried on. It was only when she reopened her eyes a few moments later that she noticed your presence.

"Hi," you said, making your way over to her. "I saw your poster, the one about looking for new hires-"

"Right, right." She offered a strained smile, stress seeming to stay with her. "I'm Sydney, you must be one of the job applicants?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"A job applicant?" Richie's voice boomed through the room, his voice always projecting ten times louder than need be. You had to admit, you missed it. "F that bullshit, that's fucking Mars Bar!"

Sydney's eyebrows lowered at the shouted nickname, the one that the Berzattos had gifted you years ago after your favorite candy as a kid. You granted Richie a smile, him finally noticing you. "Nice to see you too, Richie."

He marched around the counter to engulf you in a bear-like hug that had you letting out a chuckled gasp from the impact, arms wrapping tightly around your back. He let go in a beat and slammed his hands down on the counter in excitement, always loud.

"Just wait till Carmy hears about his favorite girl being back, I swear to God."

Something fluttered through you at the mention of that name. Carmen's name. With a whirlwind of thoughts sifting through your mind, you almost missed the other name that Richie had called you, aside from Mars Bar. Carmy's favorite girl.

-----

Richie had barged into the kitchen with full vigor, slamming open the swinging door dangerously close to a nearby Tina.

"Cousin!" He moved through the different chefs' stations until he got to Carmen's, who was wrapped up in prepping and quite frankly had learned to tune out the sound of Richie's yelling for his own health. "Yo, Cousin!"

Richie boisterously grabbed a hold of Carmen's shoulders, rocking him a little and moving his hand that wielded a knife, cutting diagonally into beef he'd been pre-slicing.

"Shit," Carmen cursed, irritation forming. "What the hell is it, Cousin?"

Richie just laughed, a mind never paid to Carmen's annoyance. "Yea, you're pissed at me now, Carmy, but you're gonna think I'm pulling your dick when I tell you who's at the fucking register right now."

With a forever-present dull headache, Carmen sighed and shifted his focus to him, putting down his knife on the counter. He gestured a hand out to him. "Who's at the register, Rich-"

"The fucking love of your life, that's who!"

Richie gave Carmen a playful punch in the arm, but he remained unphased, a frown etched on his features. "See, what the fuck are you talking about? I don't have a love of my-"

"Two words, Cousin. Mars Bar."

Richie was right. Those two words really did do something to him.

"She- ... she's here?"

He rubbed his jaw, brain short-circuiting for a second as he tried to make sense of Richie's words. His eyes bore into Richie's never-serious ones, trying to grasp onto whether or not he was, just this one time. If he was messing with him, he didn't think he'd be able to take it.

"Yes, bro!" Yelled Richie, patting him on the back. "I swear to you. She's here, and hot as balls, too."

He squinted his eyes at him with a twinge of disgust, slightly shoving him to the side to get towards the door. He still didn't know if he believed it. You'd been traveling abroad on some grant that he, to be honest, didn't know much about. But you were doing great things. He couldn't guess why you'd come back to The Beef, of all places.

When he saw you through the window, he was lucky he was hidden behind the safety of the kitchen door because he couldn't control the way his body and mind froze at the sight of you. He took in the way your smile beamed out into the room as you spoke with Sydney, warm and unignorable, and he could've sworn something changed in the chemical makeup of his brain. Something that had his eyes widening and his feet planted in their place.

"What'd I tell you?" Richie's voice from behind him knocked him out of his trance. There was a smug, amused edge to his voice. "Now go and talk to her."

Carmen put a hand out, shooing him away. "I will. I just," he stopped, trailing off as he took in the way you truly seemed to glow after all the time spent away. He liked how it looked on you.

"Aww, don't tell me you're nervous now, Carm." Richie put his arms on Carmen's shoulders.

"Shut the fuck up." He shoved Richie off of him with a grimace, but his eyes never left you, jaw clenching as he followed your movements. "I'm not."

The pit in his stomach told him otherwise. He ignored the feeling, determined, and took in a breath before opening the kitchen door to the front of the restaurant, to where you stood.

At the sound of the door swinging open you finally turned your attention to him, lips coming to part with a subtle inhale that somehow left you feeling breathless.

"Carmen." You said his name with a grin, eyes lighting up, heart picking up its pace in your chest. You ran over for a quick, thoughtless hug that left his body partly on fire when you pulled away just as fast.

"Mars Bar." He uttered the old nickname endearingly, his voice cracking at the end of his words for some reason. He cleared his throat. "You're uh- you're here. In Chicago."

"Woah," Richie interrupted, coming in from behind, boisterous. "We've got a genius in The Beef, everybody!"

Sydney snorted from somewhere in the distance, but you couldn't even laugh because you'd been too busy staring at the way Carmen ran his hand through his golden hair that had been unruly since you were practically kids and still was.

"Yeah," you breathed, cringing at how awkward your voice sounded to your own ears. "I'm here."

The two of you held onto each other's gazes for a beat too long, scanning over the other wordlessly, taking in the changes that the years apart had brought.

"Well, uh," Carmen started, licking his lip to find strings of coherent words. "Do you wanna come into the office? Catch up?"

You nodded with a pleased tug of your lips. "Yeah, sure Carmen."

He nodded too and led the way, arm delicately resting on your upper back for a second in a way that left his fingertips buzzing, alive.

You entered the room after he did, the desk and walls littered with papers and sticky notes of different colors, an overload to the senses. It was stuffy, even with the door left open.

Before he turned to face you, he clumsily sorted some papers that'd been sitting on a wooden chair into stacks and pushed them onto the highest shelf above his desk so you could sit down, his white t-shirt slightly tugging upwards as he reached. Your eyes subtly followed the movement, eyes glancing steadily over a part of his lower abdomen that you felt alarmed at even sneaking a peak. That and the muscles that showed clearly from the short sleeves of his shirt.

God, you'd only been back in Chicago for a few days and your mind was already doing that thing it always did when you were around Carmen, like it didn't have the ability to think straight or act rationally when he was around.

"So, uh," Carmen started, turning his focus back to being one hundred percent on you. It became hard to concentrate when he did that, because he had the most piercing blue eyes you'd ever seen and you found over the years that they'd always had more than just one emotion swimming around in them. As you looked into them now, you still came up short in identifying them.

"What are you doing back in Chicago?" He looked at you like you were a puzzle, one he couldn't give up on solving. "Did the studies abroad finally start to bore you?"

"Yeah, they did," you joked, looking down at your lap. "Not really much to do in Europe compared to this place, you know?"

Carmen let out a wisp of a laugh, nodding, while also noting somewhere in the back of his mind that this was the first time he'd laughed in at least a few days. Your presence could always do that to him; Put him at ease when nothing else truly could.

"And, of course, I could only go so long being separated from the Berzattos."

He laughed again. That made twice. "Oh yeah?"

You nodded, playful in your words.

"I mean it." You did.

You let a comfortable silence nestle between the two of you, feeling the upward tug of your lips that you could only blame on Carmen. The thought left something alighted in your chest

"Seriously though." You say up a little straighter in your seat. "I guess the real reason I stopped by was because I was wondering if I could help out around here for a little while, now that I'm back home."

At this, the smile that had been resting on Carmen's face began to weaken.

"What?" His forehead creased, eyes dancing across your face with curiosity and disguised panic of his own.

Sensing his change in mood, you hurriedly continued. "I'll be home for a while and, you know, I just figured me getting a job here would be convenient and-"

"No."

You stopped mid-sentence, zeroing in on the man before you. "No?"

He had one hand leaning against the desk, the other's fingertips pressed to his forehead, head cast down, eyes evading yours.

"No, I- I'm sorry, Mars. We're ... we're not hiring right now. We don't need any new workers." At that, you frowned, taking in the tension in Carmen's stance and the tightness in his voice.

"I know The Beef is hiring right now, Carm." You gave him a disbelieving look. "In fact, I got the idea to work here from the flyers Sydney put up everywhere, so don't try and tell me you're not looking for new job applicants." You took a step closer to him, sensing something wrong and confused as to why he would lie, but he only seemed to be growing more agitated, shifting his posture upwards and no longer leaning on the table.

"That was a mistake, alright? I didn't ask her to do that. The Beef is doing perfectly fine, we don't need any extra help." Something sour was rotting in the undertones of his voice, the way he said the word help as if the thought of it was repellent.

"I didn't mean anything by asking. I ... I know you guys are doing fine, probably great even, I was just thinking that maybe I could-"

"We don't need any new fucking hires, Mars." He slammed his hand down on the desk, his tone raising so abruptly that it had you taking a step back in surprise.

When you looked up at him with alarm in your eyes, immediately his eyes began to soften, regret flooding through them. You held his gaze until those same eyes became taken over with this sudden guilt, almost sadness, flickering downwards towards his hands that moved to rest on his office desk, away from you.

You took a second to scan over the desk that was littered with papers and unsigned documents. It wasn't like Carmen to be unorganized, you knew that much. He had to be in a bad place to have his office look like this. Or, rather, Mikey's old office.

The room was a sensory overload, every inch of it a reminder of Mikey. Anyone would go crazy spending their days in here. Especially if that someone had been his little brother.

Carmen rubbed his hands over his face. You took a step next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder that lit aflame from the heat he gave off.

"For what it's worth," you started softly, and Carmen had to fight a shiver at how close your voice was to him. "I miss Mikey too."

He didn't make any movement to turn towards you, his jaw clenched and eyes still staring downwards. He didn't know what made you feel like you had to say that to him. He didn't need to look at you, though, to know you truly meant it.

"You can't work here," he said, his voice sounding defeated and a little far away. "I'm sorry."

Something restless in your heart was determined to make you fight back, figure out why Carmen was refusing you without a good reason. But something else inside of you softened at the way Carmen wouldn't meet your eyes, seeming guilt-stricken, and decided to back down. The hand that had been resting on his shoulder gave him a final squeeze.

You took your leave for the office door without Carmen moving an inch.

"Bye, Carm." Your voice was unfairly soft towards him, even if he felt like he didn't deserve the kindness that thrummed from your heart. "It was nice seeing you." You paused. "I've missed you."

Before he could turn to say goodbye, somehow communicate the 'I've missed you too' that he'd been meaning to express since he'd seen you, you had already turned down the hallway, out of sight. He knew for sure, then, that you didn't deserve that response from him. But he just didn't know how to tell you. How to explain without sounding ridiculous why alarms sounded in his brain at the thought of you working at The Beef.

He'd always known that you were destined for more than just the life you'd shared with him as kids, where you scored straight A's and were one of the top in your class. When you'd left for college while he stayed put, he didn't even let himself miss you, because he'd just wanted what was best for you. And when you furthered your studies even after college, traveling abroad, he knew that was the life you were meant for. To see you stopping all of that to work at The Beef, the place where his brother's dreams had become nothing but dead ends as time went on, wouldn't settle right inside of him.

Worst of all, he had visions of you working in the kitchen, behind the scenes where tensions were constantly overwhelming, of him losing his cool in front of you and you seeing a side of him he tried to keep you far away from. You'd always known the youngest brother Carmy, the world-class chef Carmy, the one who was at his best around you. He couldn't imagine what he would do if suddenly he revealed the Carmy he tried to hide; the Carmy who worked at The Beef, a bundle of unstable frustration who was barely hanging on, the Carmy who still didn't know how to live life without Mikey but who melted from your touch, who wanted more from the girl who'd been at his side for so many years as nothing but a friend, and a great one. He couldn't risk losing that.

Especially not with the condition of The Beef at the moment, which needed his full focus. Having you around would definitely not allow for that. So he convinced himself that this was for your own good. For his own good.

When you rounded the corner back out into the front of the restaurant, Richie was still there behind the counter, holding a phone to his ear.

You smiled at him a little tiredly and silently waved goodbye, walking towards the door.

Richie frowned, removing his focus from the phone call. "Where the hell are you leaving to so fast?" You spun around. "Don't tell me Carmy scared you off already."

You laughed awkwardly and thought of what to say, but must have taken too long to answer because Richie's face was already contorting with an over-the-top grimace.

"What'd that moron say to you, huh?"

You put a hand out, trying to calm him. "Richie, it's nothing, really-"

He was already stalking off towards the office, muttering something about 'killing Carmen'. You shook your head to yourself, because you knew how headstrong both of them were, and turned towards the exit. And, as you finally opened the glass door to leave, you could hear yelling and shouted vulgar words coming from the office. You didn't stay long enough to listen.

You didn't know what to think when it happened. You'd been sitting at home all weekend, alone, and honestly truly bored and wondering if coming back home was the right choice when your phone started ringing. You checked the screen and it was an unknown caller, but boredom had you picking it up anyway.

Mars Bar!

"Hello? Who is this?"

It's me.

"..."

Richie.

"Ohh ... right. How did you get my number again?"

I asked around. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I'm supposed to be telling you that you're gonna start work tomorrow.

"What? Start work? Where?"

At The Beef. C'mon Mars catch up with me here.

"Sorry, I'm just ... confused. Carmen told me you guys weren't hiring and that he couldn't give me a job?"

Oh, that. Don't worry about Carmy. I set that moron straight.

"What are you saying?"

I'm saying, you got the job kid!

"Richie, are you fucking with me right now?"

No! Why does everyone always think I'm fucking with them? I'm fucking serious hon.

"Okay, okay! I ... I believe you. I think."

You better! Carmy is really fucking stoked to have you work here, I mean it.

"He ... he is?"

Sure! So I better see your ass Monday morning, capeesh?

"Y-yea I guess so."

Your heart really should not have fluttered the way it did when Richie told you that Carmen was supposedly excited to see you. He hadn't sounded like it when you'd brought it up to him. In fact, he seemed strangely opposed to the idea, like you'd hit a sensitive area.

You weren't sure if you could really believe Richie. Like you'd always known, Carmen was stubborn as hell. The change of heart was unexpected, to say the least. You didn't know what to think. You still didn't know, as you walked through the front entrance of The Beef the next day, ready to start work. The only person to greet you at the front was Richie, standing behind the counter, per usual.

"Cousin!" He gestured you over. You greeted him back and rounded the corner to stand behind the counter next to him, unused to the feeling after spending years on the other side of it.

Richie spent at most two minutes giving you a rundown of what you'd be doing at The Beef, merely distracted by some yelling in the kitchen. The brief directions consisted mostly of taking orders and ringing a bell. A real challenge.

"Yeah, so that's basically it." He gave you a pat on the back and your front almost hit the counter at the impact.

"No paperwork or formalities or anything?" You were almost suspicious of the fast speed at which this had all happened. Richie whipped his head around like you'd stated something crazy.

"Formalities? C'mon, what are we, the fucking White House? This is a family business, Cousin."

He patted you on the shoulder roughly. "Thanks, Richie," you said, both slightly amused and slightly unnerved. You tapped your fingers on the marble countertop, trying to seem casual. "Where's um ... where's Carmy?"

Richie scratched his head. "He's, uh, he's busy. He'll be out soon. Don't you worry, shortcake." He gave you a wink that you didn't know what to do with and turned back towards the kitchen. You were gonna have to talk to him about those nicknames in the workplace sooner or later.

You called out to him before he left into the kitchen, hesitant. "You're sure Carmen said he wants me to work here, right?"

Your eyes bore into Richie's for a moment, and it was almost like you could see the thoughts in his head visibly swarming about. His shoulder raised. "Well, he didn't exactly say he wanted you to, but anyone with fucking eyes can see that he wants you-"

"Richie!" Your jaw hung open in utter annoyance and bafflement. He frowned at you.

"What?"

You almost scoffed. "Did Carmen really not say it was okay for me to work here?" You looked around, bewildered. "Does he even know I'm here?"

Richie gestured his hands out to you. "Sure he does!"

You could tell just from his tone what your answer was. You put a hand on your hip, shaking your head to yourself. "I'm going in there to talk to him."

"No!" Richie's eyes widened. "No. Just calm down, and I'll talk to him."

You stared at him disbelievingly. He stared back at you challengingly with the confidence only Richie could have. "I'll be back in no time. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

Richie didn't know what he was planning on doing when he opened the door to the kitchen in search of Carmen. He just hoped he wasn't using a knife when he found him.

He turned a few corners before Carmen was in his line of view, hunched over the counter as he worked busily on something Richie couldn't see. He leaned against the counter next to him, watching Carmen as his focus didn't even falter.

"Carm."

He didn't get a reply, just the back of Carmen's head as he focused on reading the piece of paper in front of him, hand braced against the shining surface it lay on.

"Carmy."

The man in question slowly shifted his focus to the man next to him, whose distracting presence had become impossible to ignore. "What? What is it?"

Richie peered down at him. "Promise that you won't get mad."

Carmen's eyes narrowed. "What the hell did you do?"

"Just promise me you won't fucking blow up at me like you always do."

"Why would I promise that if I don't even know what the hell you did?"

Richie tipped his head back exasperatedly. "Just say you promise!"

"I fucking promise! Okay?" Carmen ran a hand through his hair, moving it again to cross his arms. "Now, what is it?"

Richie paused, kicking out his foot and casually peering down at it with feigned interest. "Mars Bar is outside right now. Again."

Carmen's forehead creased and he looked over at Richie with sudden alarm. "What? Why? Is she okay?"

Richie gave him a knowing look, smug for a moment. "Yeah, she's fine." He shrugged. "I just, um, might have given her a job here up at the register."

Carmen's face was unmoving, his tone raising with poorly hidden anger. "You what?"

"And I might've also told her you really wanted her to work here."

Carmen's eyes scanned Richie's sporadically like he couldn't process his words fast enough. "Wh- Why the fuck would you do that? I already told her no-"

"Yeah, and I told her yes. Because you're an idiot and I'm saving your ass. You're welcome!"

Carmen ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly. "For what? Fucking me over?"

"I did not fuck you over, Carm, I'm doing this for you!"

Carmen shook his head, anger bleeding its way through his mind. "What the hell are you talking about? I told you, Richie, I don't want her anywhere near this place. I- I thought that was understood."

"No, it was not fucking understood because it was a stupid idea." Carmen let out a scoff as Richie put his hands out to Carmen in a calming gesture. "This is a good thing, trust me."

Carmen sputtered. "How the fuck is it-"

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me, Carm!" Richie shouted, bravely putting a hand up in front of Carmen's face. He pointed his finger at him which Carmen regarded with annoyance. "You need to stop being a moron and pushing away every single fucking female that tries to come within ten feet of you, alright?"

Carmen's brows furrowed even further, confusion building alongside anger. "I really have no goddamn idea what your point is here, Richie, but this has nothing to do with-"

"Oh spare me, Cousin!" He shouted. "We all know you've had the hots for Mars Bar over there since you were kids, alright?"

Carmen's mouth clamped shut immediately at this, his breathing coming out in fumes. He shook his head back and forth.

"Is this what this whole fucking thing is about, you jagoff?"

"Woah woah woah!" Richie cut in. "I am not the jagoff here, Cousin. I'm helping you out!"

"Richie's right, Carm," cut in Fak from behind, appearing suddenly out of nowhere like he always seemed to.

"Shut the fuck up, Fak!" Carmen held his head in his hand, trying to grab hold of his temper that he could feel slipping out of control. He needed to breathe.

"She can't work here."

Richie raised his arms in a shrug. "Well, you're gonna have to go tell her that yourself."

"I fucking will."

Carmen stormed off towards the kitchen door, ready to tell you yet again that you had to leave, a daunting thought overlooked thanks to adrenaline. Richie chuckled from behind him. "Yeah right, like you're gonna fire her."

Carmen didn't let himself listen to Richie any longer. Fists clenched at his sides, he opened the door and there you were, standing there, looking confused and a little surprised with parted lips.

Richie came up from behind and patted him on the back. "Go on, Carm. Tell her."  You watched as Carmen's jaw clenched.

Carmen really wanted to tell you that you couldn't work here. That you had to go home. That you had to run far away from this place and go back to studying abroad and being more successful than any of them and all of that bullshit. Maybe it was because your eyes were shining a little too bright in the restaurant lighting, or that they looked a little too hopeful as they stared back at him with raised brows, waiting. But he didn't say anything of those things.

"You..." he started. Your eyebrows raised further. His palms suddenly became sweatier. He took a breath in.

"You, um," a beat passed. He licked his lip. "You're gonna need an apron."

Your eyes lit up even more if possible, and he thought his heart would give out. Then, you ran up and threw your arms around his neck in a tight hug, and he genuinely questioned if his brain had short-circuited because, by the time he came back to reality, you'd already pulled away and were practically jittering with excitement from in front of him.

"Thank you so much, Carm." Every time you smiled at him in that way he felt himself lose a bit of control. He didn't like the feeling. "You won't regret it."

He smiled back at you because he couldn't not. He wasn't so sure.

Carmen had given you your apron. When he'd handed it to you, you'd brushed fingers and your heart skipped a little beat at the contact. That had been the most eventful thing to occur within the next four days.

You'd done practically nothing at The Beef all week. There'd been a noticeable lack of customers coming into the restaurant to take orders, and those who did oftentimes came in just to see Richie, which had you leaning against the counter waiting and listening to their loud conversations with the man.

It felt like there was some sort of prank being played on you. Surely they wouldn't pay you money for doing absolutely nothing. All the waiting around doing close to nothing made you antsy, frustrated, and confused.

You'd been meaning to address this to Carmen, to ask what you were doing wrong, but getting a hold of him was near impossible. You'd seen so little of Carmen that you couldn't even be sure he came into work most days, the only confirmation being his shouts coming from the kitchen at the others. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you became jealous of them. You'd take Carmen shouting orders at you in the kitchen any day over him saying nothing to you at all. It almost felt like he was avoiding you.

It was a Thursday night, and the antsy feeling inside of you had you staying late at work that night, wiping down tables with an intense amount of fervor.

You'd thought you were the last one in The Beef. It'd been dark for hours, but you had nobody and nothing exciting waiting for you at home, so working a little extra couldn't hurt. And, if it made Carmen notice your position at The Beef at least a little bit, it would be worth it.

As your thoughts drifted to the man, something made a noise from the kitchen, and it became apparent to you that maybe you weren't the only one working late that night.

"Hello?" You'd said aloud, your voice slightly echoing in the vacant restaurant. No response was returned. You slowly went back to scrubbing down a table against the far wall from the kitchen door when it swung open, and there stood Carmen Berzatto in his patchwork wool jacket, looking like seeing you was the last thing he'd expected.

The sight was jarring to you for a number of reasons. You jumped up speedily and tucked the rag you'd been using to clean tables slightly behind you as if he hadn't already seen you using it.

"Mars Bar?" He said, the nickname falling easily from his lips like it was the only one he'd ever known you by. He eyed your tense stance.

"Hey, Carmen." Your smile was just as unnatural. His eyebrows pulled downward at you, eyes squinting and blinking confusedly in the dim lighting like he was fighting sleep.

"What are you doing here so late?" You nibbled at your own lip. Carmen, even from across the room, made sure to follow the movement. You noticed him eye the rag in your hands.

"I was just cleaning off some of the umm ... some of the tables." You didn't know why you sounded so embarrassed. You also didn't know what was going through Carmen's mind as he looked over you, and then over the spotless tables behind you.

"Wow," he began, running a hand through his hair. "You really didn't have to do all this. It's not ... it's not part of your job, you know?" A feeling bitter and stale simmered inside of you.

"I know." You stood up straighter. "Maybe I just wanted to.

You wanted to say more in the moment, tell him all of your frustrations, but you didn't. You just stared back at him and watched as he walked towards where you stood by the tables. You didn't move an inch.

His eyes surveyed the tops of the tables and he marveled at how clean they were. Not just clean, but almost sparkling, even in the low lighting that came from a single overhead lamp and the streetlights from outside.

"You did a great job, Chef."

Your eyebrows raised unintentionally. He'd never called you that before, though you'd heard the name from his lips aimed at others countless times. He noticed your reaction.

"What?" He asked, eyeing you curiously. He leaned back against the table next to you, his beautiful stare almost becoming a little too much for you after a long day. You shrugged.

"Nothing. It's just," you paused, "you've never called me that before."

His expression was slightly confused, slightly amused. "Well," he began, gaze shifting from the ground to you. "Now I do. You work here, don't you?"

The question settled uncomfortably in your chest, and you let out a laugh that sounded just as strained. "Hardly."

Carmen's eyebrows flashed downwards in a quick frown. "What do you mean 'hardly'?" You felt his eyes scanning your face, scanning you. "What's up?"

You went back to rubbing at the corner of a nearby table with your rag if only to distract yourself from Carmen's gaze and the petty way your words sounded coming from your lips.

"I mean," you began. "It feels like I haven't really done much of anything around here, you know?" When he didn't say anything back, you continued. "I've only taken a handful of customer's orders in the past couple of days. And, I know I'm not the best cook in the world but I could definitely help out in the kitchen with something. Maybe I could cut up some stuff, or prep it, or whatever you guys call it. Anything, really."

He didn't say anything right away, and you became horrified that you'd pushed his buttons too many times in the last week with your rants and that he'd finally send you on your way once and for all. Then, you heard something like a laugh come from him. You reeled back.

"Is something funny?" You asked, your tone uncharacteristically sour. He silenced his amusement and looked at you intently.

"You've always been such an overachiever, Mars."

You paused, then shook your head. "Oh please, we all know you're the ambitious one."

"No, not when we were kids," Carmen argued. "I was never great in school. You, on the other hand," he chuckled under his breath. "My mom would have me go check in on you whenever we hadn't heard from you on a night before a test. Make sure you weren't overdosing on coffee and pop."

You swore you could feel your heart beating in your chest at Carmen's revelation and the fondness in his voice.

"You know," Carmen began again, getting lost in memories. "I think my mom used to have this theory I'd marry you one day or something. Said you were the only girl who'd put up with my stubbornness."

Oh my God. Your head was spinning. Why was he saying this? He didn't know what the hell he was doing to you. Or your heartbeat, which was concerningly gaining speed. He never did.

All you could say was, "Oh?"

He laughed some more like this was something casual, something funny. You couldn't help but notice that forever present weight present in his eyes, though. Something he could never seem to shed.

"Yeah, well," Carmen began again, "my mother has also been mentally unstable for years, so." He jokingly trailed off, his voice dying in the silence, along with any butterflies you'd felt. You laughed quietly, even if laughing was the last thing you wanted to do when hearing that.

You felt like you were being suffocated. By him and his blue eyes and his dry, self-deprecating jokes and the small quirk of his lips. You were also getting restless because you'd started off trying to talk with Carmen about your job, and now were getting lost in the haze of your feelings for him which you decided were useless and would get you nowhere. You cast them aside the best you could and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Carmen," you said. His attention focused directly on you. "Did you listen to any of the things I said about working here?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he assured you. "Of course."

"So, will you take them into consideration? Let me do more, Carmen. I can do more."

There was a beat of silence. He fidgeted, like he did when he was a boy and couldn't focus in class, or when he was nervous around a girl he'd liked. Nervous around you.

He wanted to say yes. Hell, he would've given you anything you'd asked for just to see you happy. But he didn't know what the consequences of giving you a more important role at The Beef would achieve. What it might stop you from achieving. What it might do to him. So, he didn't say anything. Not anything direct.

"I know you can, Mars." He exhaled and then put his hands in his pockets, eyes cast down. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight. We can talk about this more in the morning. Okay?"

His response was like a smack in the face. A sharp pain that left a dull ache. You let a breath out and tried to keep your face from revealing your stubborn frustration. You slowly nodded. "Okay."

Even if you tried to contain your emotions, Carmen could see it. He noticed it in the quick flare of your nostrils as you breathed, in the slight clench of your jaw. Stupidly, he asked, "Is that okay?"

You weren't looking at him. You were looking at your feet. You tapped your foot once. "Yes."

Even more stupidly, he asked, "Are you sure?"

You finally shifted your focus to him and he felt his own jaw clench at the way it sent a rush down his spine.

"Yeah, Carmen." That was the first time he didn't like the way you said his name.

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly, lifting his bag higher on his shoulder.

"Alright."

You lifted the rag from the table, stood there for a second, and walked towards the counter, where you wrung it out and slapped it down into a bucket full of other dirty rags, and left it there. You didn't feel much like putting it away.

Carmen hadn't moved and just stood there by the tables, watching as you collected your coat from behind the counter and turned off the lights as you walked past.

When he saw you walking towards the door, he rushed to get there first, to open it for you. You beat him to it, opening it yourself. He closed it and locked the door behind him. You both were engulfed by the dull chill of the air right away, and you couldn't help but shiver.

Carmen turned to you. "Let me drive you home." He didn't dare offer you a lighthearted smile or anything of that sort. He didn't think he had it in himself to be lighthearted, anyways.

You gifted him a polite one with a short tug of your lips. "I have a car. Thanks."

Carmen could've smacked himself right there. "Right." He didn't know what was wrong with him. "Sorry." The apology was for more than just his assumption, but he couldn't bring himself to clarify.

"I'll walk you to your car then?" He asked, though you knew no matter what you said he'd make sure you'd get to your car safely either way.

"Okay, yeah."

You both turned to walk to your car, Carmen letting you take the lead for a moment before catching up to walk side by side with you. You were hit with the reality that Carmen Berzatto was walking you to your car, alone with you, at midnight. A small gesture that had your mind buzzing from the contrast between your love for him and your frustration with him. Nobody had come close to making you feel the emotions Carmen made you feel, even if no words were shared between both of you on that short walk. It felt completely silent. Somehow, even if the streets of Chicago were anything but, it felt silent.

Carmen thought about how his life was full of silent moments, never saying what he truly wanted to, to the people he wanted to speak to the most. When he noticed you were cold, even through your jacket, he walked a little closer to you. Whether you noticed it or not, he didn't know, but at least it soothed a small part of his mind that was blaring that night, telling him that he'd fucked up with you. That you deserved better. He couldn't help but think that same thing when he was around you, all the time.

You'd both crossed the street to reach your car in not even a full minute, but the walk had felt eternal to you. When you turned to Carmen to tell him goodnight, he was already looking at you intently. You wanted to ask what he was thinking, but you didn't, and unlocked your car.

"See you in the morning, Carmen," you said, tone unrevealing. He gave you his best neutral smile.

"Yeah. See you, Mars."

You went to open your car door, but this time he beat you to it. Even if he made you angry, he was still Carmen.

You watched as he rounded the front of your car back to the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, soft breathing visible in the cold from the white puffs it made in the air as he breathed.

You gave him one last wave as a goodbye, but by that time he was pretty much out of vision, and then drove away.

He watched your car drive down the street, stop at the light, turn the corner, and then glide out of view.

Immediately, he knew he should've said more on the walk to your car. He should've at least apologized. He didn't tell you that he was sorry for being so shitty. He didn't tell you he appreciated everything you did. He also didn't tell you his car was parked on the opposite end of the street.

And as he walked back to it, crossing The Beef again with its spotless tables, he thought about nothing except you.

The next morning had you waking up with a headache that only worsened when you stepped foot into The Beef. Your coworkers were shouting and blurting out orders in typical kitchen lingo that you honestly didn't fully understand.

There seemed to be an underlying tension simmering in the air that morning that had everyone's voices raised just a little bit more than usual, echoing through to you from your designated spot behind the front counter.

You figured out soon that that tension came from the review of The Beef that had been put in the paper the night before. It was the same topic that had Sydney and Richie arguing back and forth for minutes on end next to you.

"So this is a war on poor people?" You heard Richie ask as you finally tuned back into their yelling. "I see you."

"No," Sydney yelled back. "This is a war on you shutting the fuck up and learning how to use the tablet! The end dude."

"What is the end?"

You turned to your left to see Carmen stride out of the kitchen, looking every bit intense, shoulders hunched and rigid. He glanced at you in some form of a greeting for only a second before putting himself between Richie and Sydney and somewhat settling their argument.

"Are we ready?" He asked them with a rushed tone.

"No!" Sydney snapped, but headed back into the kitchen with Richie, even if you could see she wanted to punch the man in the face.

You turned back around to watch Carmen as he hurriedly ran a hand through his hair and started to rush back into the kitchen. You tried to catch his eyes, but he didn't meet your gaze.

"Um, Chef?" You tried to call, reaching out an arm to get his attention just a hair too late, him brushing past you without taking notice of you.

"Carmen?" This time he turned around, head flipping around to focus on you with eyes shot wide in the rush.

"What's up?" He asked, eyes quickly assessing your face. For a second you forgot what you were supposed to be asking.

"Did you, um, think about what I said last night?" He blinked back at you. "You said we'd talk about it in the morning, so, could we maybe talk about it?"

With the way he stared back at you, for a second you could've sworn he'd forgotten what you were talking about. Then, it had clearly dawned on him and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second, holding out a hand to his head.

"No, yeah, right." He thought for a second, and then looked around, peeking into the kitchen, attention clearly spread elsewhere.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Can we just ... talk about this another time?"

You tried not to show your frustration. "Like when?"

"Uh," Carmen started, but he was already backing into the kitchen. A loud clanging noise of pots and pans rang through to the front, and his focus was completely lost. "Who the fuck keeps denting my pans, Chefs?!" He shouted. He threw the kitchen door open and moved to go inside, but not before calling out "We'll talk later, Chef!" and disappearing into the kitchen.

You groaned. "Later," could mean any time between that day and Easter. You didn't want to blame Carmen. You knew he was extremely busy and tended to overwork himself. But something in the back of your mind told you he was avoiding you. You didn't like the feeling.

It'd only been maybe an hour into the day when all hell started to break loose in the kitchen. At least from what you could hear. There was three times as much yelling as usual and people were weaving through the station by the front counter and the kitchen, shouting sandwich orders. Meanwhile, you felt lost and unhelpful, with no direct answer as to what was going on.

You'd spent your time filling up the napkin dispenser and cutting green tape, feeling your uselessness in your bones. Maybe Carmen was right. Maybe you were overly ambitious. That didn't change the fact that now it seemed like not just Carmen, but everyone else had gone out of their way to keep you away from the kitchen.

You'd thought about going in there anyway, but thought better of it when listening to the commotion. That was, until you saw Marcus with his bags taking his leave towards the exit, a look of both anger and defeat on his face.

"Woah, Marcus," you called out with furrowed brows. "What's wrong? Where are you going?"

He let out a quick breath from his nose that sounded like it was supposed to be a wry laugh. He pointed towards the back. "Anywhere but in that kitchen." You frowned and he shook his head. "He's losing his shit, man."

You were confused and looked to him for more of an explanation, but he was already walking out the door and it didn't seem like he had any plans of coming back. You wanted to ask him "who?", but you had a sinking feeling in your gut telling you that you already knew just who he meant.

That and the loud "Fuck!" that came from the other side of the wall was the last push you needed to finally storm into the litchen. As soon as you walked in, it was a complete overload to your senses. The sounds and smells of sizzling food, the clunky buzzing of timers, and an argument at practically every corner. What had you reeling to a stop, though, was the sight of Carmen shouting truly throat-tearing orders, face turning red with exertion, hair damp from sweat, skin gleaming in the sight.

"Can somebody get me a Sharpie that fucking works?!" he screamed while whipping a Sharpie out of his hand and onto the ground. Your eyes widened at the sight.

"Woah," you said aloud, not even meaning to say the word but being unable to stop yourself. When you did, Carmen's focus switched onto you in a second and you could see the pure chaos held behind his eyes.

"Wh- what the fuck are you doing in here?"

You frowned at his abruptness. "I just wanted to know what the hell is going on in here-"

"Nothing is going on in here."

Someone laughed from around the corner and about three more timers began to buzz and beep.

"Oh please, I've been hearing screaming for hours and then I see Marcus storming out of here with his things saying you've lost it."

At that, Carmen paused, eyes searching yours intently. "Marcus left?"

"Yeah," you answered steadily, unsure of how exactly he'd react. "It looked like he was quitting."

For a second, it looked like Carmen felt guilty, sad, but then he was fuming and slamming his hands down on the counter.

"Fuck!" He shook his head back and forth like he was rummaging through a thousand thoughts swirling around his head. He shouted again. "Fuck!"

You didn't like the sight before you, or the way Carmen seemed to be losing control of himself, and quickly. "Now can you tell me what the problem is?" You almost pleaded. "I could help."

Carmen hardly bothered to look you in the eyes and strode past you to reach the oven you'd been standing by, lifting the lid of a pot and adjusting the heat at lightning speed.

"You're not seriously ignoring me right now when I'm offering to help-"

He put up a hand. "I told you I'd talk with you later, Mars. Go back to the register."

You scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That's-" you shook your head. "I'm not leaving until I at least know what the fuck is going on."

"You wanna know what the fuck is going on?" Richie shouted out, laughing to himself loudly as he appeared from behind the corner. "Some moron left the pre-order option open on her beloved tablet overnight and now we're 250-something beefs behind schedule!"

Your head was spinning from the news and from the lack of air in the kitchen, but the yelling kept coming.

"Okay, well, the 'moron' is right here and she has a name, thank you," cut in Sydney, livid. "And there is no fucking way you are putting all the blame on me right now, Richie-"

"Who else's fucking fault is it sweetheart?"

"Richie, I swear to God if you call me that one more time-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Carmen's booming voice split the two of them apart. "Shut the fuck up and get back to work!"

They listened and went back to their stations angrily mumbling to themselves. That didn't change the fact that you knew the kitchen was in deep shit and Carmen was one wrong move away from losing his mind. You watched as he stormed around the kitchen to different stations. You'd be an idiot if you just stood at the register waiting for more nonexistent orders.

"Sydney," you called out as she passed by. "What can I do to help?"

She raised the corners of her lips in a slightly surprised smile and thought for a second.

"You can probably start by helping me with peeling these potatoes for now." She handed you a basket filled with potatoes and pointed towards a metal peeler on the counter. You quickly nodded.

"Okay, on it, Chef."

"Great. Oh, and-"

"Sydney, what the fuck are you doing?" yelled Carmen as he rounded the corner behind Sydney. He glanced angrily back and forth between you and the potatoes in your hands.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "What does it look like I'm doing, Chef? I'm getting us some very much necessary extra help."

"We don't need any fucking extra help right now!"

Sydney turned fully to face him. "Carmy what the fuck is your problem right now? Just let her fucking peel some potatoes!"

Carmen was breathing heavily, a vein in his neck visibly contracting."I told you guys she stays out front. I told everyone she's not supposed to-"

"Excuse me?" You asked, cutting in. He was talking about you like you weren't standing right behind Sydney, hearing his every shouted word. "Sydney's right. You need to stop getting so worked up about this!"

Carmen looked like he wanted to scream. To break out into shouts even louder than even those from this morning. You'd only seen Carmen worked up like this a few times before and even then he knew when he was taking things too far.

He didn't say anything back to you and just turned away.

"Someone just get her out of here!" He hollered, to anyone who'd listen. Anyone but you. Somehow, that was even more angering than his yelling.

"Hey!" You yelled, shoving his shoulder back to turn him to face you. He glanced down towards the same shoulder before looking back towards you. You saw something haughty flash behind his eyes as they stared back at you. "Whatever you need to say about me, you can say it to me, Carmen."

He was definitely speaking to you now.

"I need you to stay the fuck out!" He pointed a finger down at you. "You never fucking listen to me! I gave you this job because you fucking asked me to, because Richie fucking asked me to. So how about you finally listen to me and stay the fuck out?!"

You knew everyone had stopped to watch. It was quieter in the kitchen than it had been all morning.

You both stood standing there with heavy breathing. Your mind couldn't think of what to say back in that moment, but a thousand different responses played through your mind. Things you wanted to ask, to shout, to make sure he understood.

Your stare bore into Carmen's own for a few seconds, noticing the anger in them, but also something fragile threatening to shatter and reveal itself. He looked away from you quickly, bracing a hand on the counter.

"Leave, Chef." He said. You didn't need to be asked twice. Not that he was asking.

"Yeah," you laughed under your breath. You untied your apron and left it on the counter. "I definitely will."

He could call you Chef, but he wouldn't even let you enter the kitchen. He could yell at you, but he couldn't even look you in the eyes as you finally left the kitchen.

Another timer went off in the background as Carmen stood there, mulling over what he'd just done in his head; the one thing, most of all, he didn't want to happen.

Sydney shook her head, brushing past him. "Carmen Berzatto, you are a fucking idiot."

He didn't have anything to say, nothing to argue back with. He knew she was right. And as he heard the front door jingle as a sign of you leaving, he also knew just how badly he'd fucked up.

You didn't come to work the next day, or the day after that. Carmen never got to listen for the jingle of the doorbell as you came into work. He didn't get a single glimpse of you, those glimpses that were like caffeine shots, keeping him going every day. He didn't see your warm, familiar eyes that reminded him why he kept going in the first place. This was what he got for trying to keep you at arm's length. For being an asshole. The regret knawed at him painstakingly.

When the first hour went by and you didn't show up, he didn't need anyone to tell him that you wouldn't come into work that day. He had Richie cover the register in your place, an order shouted quickly as he was forced to think about things other than you. And as the day went on, the fact that he didn't know when he'd see you again was a heavy weight that lay in his chest, waiting to be addressed.

You awoke that morning in your apartment, phone lighting up beside you on your bedside table to four missed calls all from the same person. A person you didn't really feel like talking to much.

You checked the time and saw it was almost noon. It wasn't like you to sleep in. And, you hadn't called in sick to work. Not that it mattered.

The next day went the same. You hadn't called in sick that morning either, but you didn't have it in you to care. You didn't even know if you wanted to come back, but there was a twisting feeling inside of you that you knew wouldn't feel release until you settled things with Carmen. The hard part would lay in being upfront with him, not letting him make any excuses, and not letting yourself soften all because he was Carmen Berzatto. A battle between your pride and whatever you felt for him.

Carmen had called you two more times, but soon, the calls stopped coming. Carmen may have been an asshole at times, but he wasn't an idiot. In fact, he was extremely smart. And definitely smart enough to know that calling you repeatedly would get him nowhere, not when he'd been as awful as he had.

You'd spent the day driving around running errands that left you tired with boredom. The sun was setting as you walked back to your own front door, the air crisp and clear from the cold while your mind felt anything but. You reached your front doorstep and unlocked the entrance to your apartment, only to step forward and feel something crunch and mash underneath the heel of your shoe. You lifted your foot and glanced downward.

A candy bar. You peered down further. A Mars Bar.

Something inside of you paused. Maybe your heartbeat, maybe your thoughts. You weren't sure but you could feel it. The now half-smushed candy bar lay on the floor like a bittersweet memory.

You blinked. There was a note. It looked like it had been torn from the corner of something messily. More importantly, there was writing on it, in pencil, words pressed hard into paper.

I'm an asshole. You don't deserve that.

No name, but you knew who it was from. Not a "sorry" in sight, but you knew he was trying. You could almost feel the intent behind the words etched into the paper as you held it. You wanted to be furious still. And you definitely were mad. But maybe not as much. Because you knew Carmen.

You knew he had the temper of someone who'd just lost a brother, of someone who'd grown up in a screaming Berzatto household in the heart of Chicago. You'd never taken his outbursts to heart and you didn't want to now. Besides. You knew, eventually, you'd miss him too much to ignore him.

So much for not giving in to Carmen Berzatto.

You didn't really know what plan you had when you walked back towards your car, sat down, placed the chocolate bar and note in your bag, and drove. You didn't think you had one. You just were aware that your days away from The Beef had been extremely boring and that you wanted to see Carmen. To hear what he had to say to you. Even if it didn't end the way you wanted.

The familiar path to The Beef stretched before you now as an uncertain one. When you got there, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and got out of your car to the sight of the lights off in the front of the restaurant. But, if you knew anything about Carmen, you knew he'd stay late. Your assumption was proven right when you entered through the unlocked door—a slightly concerning fact—and saw the harsh white light of the kitchen flooding through to the rest of the place.

You hesitated to enter, not sure if you really knew what you were doing, but ignored the thoughts plaguing you and walked carefully into the kitchen, waiting at the door when you saw him.

He faced mostly away from the door, from you, hunched over the counter doing something that had his full focus, enough of it that he didn't notice you at first. You saw he had a toothbrush in hand and that he was determinedly scrubbing at the silver countertop surface that already sparkled spotlessly. Clearly, he didn't notice or care.

It felt like you were holding your breath as you watched him, saw how focused he was, how the muscles in his back flexed and churned with each precise movement he made as he scrubbed at a nonexistent stain. Like he held a desire to erase more than just grime.

He did that for what felt like another minute without pause, and you watched the whole time wordlessly, not wanting to break the focus he had and not knowing what to say regardless. Part of you just wanted to watch him, to see how long he could keep at it without noticing you. It wasn't for too long.

He lifted his posture upright and ran a hand through his hair, inhaling deeply with little exhale as if something weighty was plaguing him. Then, he finally sensed your presence at the doorway, eyes flicking towards you as his moments came to a halt. You watched him part his lips as he thought about what to say.

He shakenly said your name, a fragile plea. The word was soft coming from his lips like he knew it well, but nestled in your brain with surprise as he called you by your real name, not just a nickname. You didn't know what to say, so you didn't say anything at all.

As he looked at you standing in the doorway, he felt exposed, like you could see through any walls he'd tried to build around himself. Words faltered from his brain. His lips parted again as if he was going to say something more, but they shut just as quickly and he ran a hand over his chin. He gestured that hand out to you.

"You uhm- did you get my note?"

You stared back at him for a beat before nodding and reaching into your bag. You held the note out in front of you, the side of your mouth quirking upwards. "Was this Carmen language for 'I'm sorry' ?"

You were half kidding and half serious, a test hidden in your words. The fact weighed on Carmen's brain, his demeanor more nervous than usual, more anxious.

"Yeah, uhm," he scrunched his eyes closed for a half second before walking towards you, taking the note from your hand and reading it to himself again, feeling the warm haze of shame creeping up on him. "Let me translate."

He read it once more. "Well, the 'I'm an asshole,' is pretty verbatim. I'm an asshole, and an idiot, and a bunch of other bad things." He glanced up at you from the paper and was relieved to see that you seemed at least a little amused. He continued. "And the 'You don't deserve that', you see, that's the good part, it translates directly to 'I'm sorry for yelling at you ' and 'it doesn't matter how stressed I was, I shouldn't have taken it out on you. That was wrong of me. And ... you're great.' "

Your eyebrows raised. "That's quite the translation."

Carmen laughed to himself breathily, but it held little amusement. "Yeah, I've been told communicating with me is like trying to tame a wild animal."

You smiled. "Who told you that?"

"Sugar."

Your laugh was warm and sounded like home. It was a feeling that left as fast as it came because soon the air between the two of you seemed to thicken with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. The heavy silence lay bare and neither of you decided to fill it right away.

"Carmen."

The way you said his name sent shivers down his spine, a sensation that never ceased to affect him. He nodded at you, eyes studying your face showing that you had his sole attention.

"I know you don't like the idea of me being here. You don't have to try and hide it." His eyes widened as you spoke."But, could you at least tell me why?"

He stared back at you, brows furrowed like he was confused. It was like you could see the gears turning in his brain as he fought to find the right wording, revealed by the stiffening mass of his shoulders that never seemed to relax.

"I don't not like you being here, Mars Bar." He spoke slowly. "I think it's great that you're back in Chicago. I ... We've missed you."

A subtle warmth lay in his gaze, but you couldn't help but feel it was dimmed by whatever emotion he'd been suppressing, the battle evident in flickers in the blue of his eyes.

"I want to believe that, but with the way you've been avoiding me, how can I?"

"Avoiding you- that's," he shook his head, almost seeming incredulous, and you watched as he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. "I haven't been trying to avoid you."

You didn't know how he could sound surprised, how you could've interpreted the way he's acted all week as anything else. "Well that's definitely what it's felt like when I tried talking to you all week, and you're just ... I don't know, dismissive."

He rubbed a hand at the nape of his neck, focus pitched somewhere that wasn't at you, jaw tightening slightly. "I just ... it's busy around here trying to bring in enough money, and there have been a lot of different things that have my focus right now," he started, as if he hadn't, time and time again, had to remind himself to stop thinking about you.

"Carmen, I know you're busy but that-," you tried to keep your emotions from showing through your voice, but you were aware of the tinge of frustration that was slipping through. "I know that's only part of it. I just need you to be more transparent with me. I can't read your mind."

He nodded, silently thanking God that you couldn't. He swallowed again and you noticed a tremor in the way he held the note he'd written, a sign of unease that he quickly hid in the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know." His blue eyes stared into yours, though you could sense the reluctance in his voice. "But I'm not gonna lie and say that I think it's a good idea for you to stay here."

You felt yourself frown, brows tugging downwards in frustration and confusion. "Why?"

His gaze faltered for just a moment, seeming torn, but he was quick to regain his momentum. "This place is ... it's not meant for someone like you."

You squinted at him, feeling a mix of disbelief and irritation. "Someone like me?"

"Yeah, I just mean," he hesitated, hearing the way you repeated his words, like they were meant to insult. "You were supposed to leave here and finish your studies abroad and achieve great things. Things bigger and better than this shit hole. You were gonna-"

"Carmen, stop." You almost scoffed to yourself. "My plans were always to stay close to home. A few months abroad weren't gonna change that." The air in the room seemed to thicken with the weight of the words you both shared, the thoughts never said allowed before. You noticed your breathing was becoming labored as you failed to understand the way Carmen's mind worked, the way he tried to communicate so much by doing so little.

"This whole time you were worried about me supposedly being meant to achieve great things, but what about you?" You let out a stunned laugh. "You're the one who studied with the best of the best, traveled all over, became a world-class chef and everything else, and now you're overworking yourself at this place and refusing help."

"Yeah, well, that part of my life stopped when Mikey gave this place to me as a final fuck you, so."

Your heart twinged not only at the name, but at the way Carmen's eyes flashed with hurt while his words could've cut stone.

"Mikey gave this place to you because he trusted you," you reasoned. You tried to make him come down from wherever he was, to detach himself from the hurt and open up. The hard plane of his shoulders lifted once in a shrug, with a small shake of his head as he stared at the ground.

"Yeah well, he just ended up fucking screwing me over."

Carmen's frustration seeped into his voice, the way he emphasized each word like he wanted to release whatever was simmering under the surface. You wanted to reach out, tell him that he could, but you held yourself back and stood up taller.

"That doesn't mean you should push people away from this place. Push me away. I could help out here. I saw how hectic it was the last time I was here and-"

"That day was a fluke," Carmen cut you off. "It's not usually like that..." his jaw worked. "I'm not usually like that." His words were laced with exasperation and a little bit of shame. You could tell he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Carmen, I understand. But-"

"I already blew up at you." His voice cut into the air harshly. He looked away, his chest rising as he tried to control rising frustration. "I didn't mean to do that, I don't... I'm not gonna let that happen again." His words were starting to come out in a rush, escaping his control, something you knew never sat well with him.

"Well, that's my choice to make, Carmen, not one that you can make for me."

"Mars, The Beef isn't- you don't want to settle for this place, just trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've done nothing but push me away since I got here?" You heard the tremble that was growing in your own voice, a mix of hurt and anger. "You've told me a million times what I want and don't want. Have you ever stopped to ask me what I wanted? Seen my point of view?"

Carmen's breathing was picking up too, the crystals that were his eyes looking at you with a mixture of defiance and desperation. He ran a hand over his face.

"I've tried to see your point of view."

"Have you?" you snapped back.

"I gave you the job even though I knew it was a bad idea, I went against what I knew just because it was you and I let Richie convince me it was a good idea, and I am fucking done listening to Richie's ideas-" his breathing was becoming uneven as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Hey, Richie's done a lot more to help me since I've gotten back than you have, and a lot more listening!" Now you were yelling, and he was yelling and you didn't like the direction this was going.

"Yeah, well did Richie tell you this place was hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt when Mikey gave it to me? Did he tell you we probably couldn't even afford to pay you a decent fucking salary?"

You opened your mouth, expecting to be equipped with a response as fast as the ones that came before, but that didn't happen and you didn't say anything. You let your eyes scan Carmen, searching for a hint that he wasn't serious, but he looked wholeheartedly sincere and angered. In fact, he looked like he was fighting to even breathe steadily.

You looked at him concernedly, taking a step closer, but he just continued, laughing to himself without joy. "He didn't fucking tell you. Of course not."

His breaths were harsh, coming from his nose and lifting his chest repeatedly. His arms slapped down at his sides, hands trembling. "See, that's why I fucking told him I didn't want you anywhere near this crap hole, I fucking told him-"

His yelling stopped. He recoiled, backing up into the counter recklessly, a pot falling behind him with a clang that had you flinching. His vision was pointed downwards towards the ground, but he was frowning so hard you were sure he couldn't see anything at all, hand to his chest, gripping.

"Carmen?" You asked, alarm suddenly overtaking you and washing away whatever anger had been bubbling inside of you. "Wh- are you okay?"

It took him a second to even process what you'd said, another to respond. "I'm fine, I-" you put a hand on his shoulder to brace him, feeling how tense it was, feeling it trying to move with the effort of his shallow breaths. Panic, shame, embarrassment, everything, seemed to claw at his chest, constricting his breathing even more. "I just- fuck, I can't- I can't-"

"You can't breathe," you said, understanding what was going on now with another flash of alarm that you hid, trying to stay calm. He nodded shakily.

"Carmen," you said steadily. To him, the sound of your voice was distant, overshadowed by the sound of his heart pounding loudly in his ears, muffled the way voices sounded when from underwater. Carmen knew he wasn't underwater. You called his name again, and he did his best to hear it. "You're having a panic attack."

He managed to shake his head again. "I'm fine. I just- shit." His legs practically gave out from underneath him and he braced one hand on the table behind him, one on your shoulder.

The sight of Carmen collapsing to the ground had you wanting to release a sob, but instead, you threw Carmen's arm around you and somehow managed to take two steps towards a bucket that was on the floor against a near wall and got him to sit down on it unsteadily.

You took both of his hands in yours, noticing how his shoulders shook, how the bottom of his neck tinted red from the straining effort to breathe.

"Carmen," you called, kneeling down to his level and giving his hands a squeeze. His vision was blurred, staring downwards, but the hazy sight of his hands wrapped up in yours gave his mind a moment's peace before he was struggling to focus again.

You took a deep breath in, feeling selfish that you even could. "Carm, do your best to look at me." You purposefully slowed your words, spoke softly and clearly, and Carmen heard. You took one hand and rested it by his cheek, hair pooling into your fingers. You brushed it back, and ran your thumb across the rise of his cheekbone, lifting his face to look upwards at you. Even when his mind could hardly form coherent thoughts, your touch still affected him like no one else's.

Once his eyes were on you, you took the hand that was still holding his and placed both on your own chest, covering the area of warm skin close enough to feel your heartbeat. A tremor rolled through him, at your hand, at the way you felt, at your touch.

You. You were here, he thought, and that was a comfort to him in itself.

"Here," you said, pressing down gently but firmly on his hand. "Can you feel my heartbeat?"

Carmen tried, really tried, but his head wasn't focusing no matter what he did. You noticed his struggle right away, like he didn't even have to form words for you to know.

Hurriedly, you took off your jacket and threw it to the ground beside you. Carmen heard the sound of a zipper before his hand was taken in yours again and placed on your chest. This time, the underside of his hand felt warmer, closer to you, to skin.

"How about now?" you asked. His eyes were shut, and he really did his best to focus this time, tune into you, into the way your chest moved up and down beneath his hand, and with it, he heard the soft and steadying rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Yeah, I- I feel it."

You let yourself smile slightly, trying to take slow and deliberate breaths. "Carmen, I need you to do your best to match your breathing with mine." You looked at him and the way his features were scrunching with the effort of trying to listen to you. "Can you do that for me?"

He nodded. He'd do anything for you.

He focused on only his hand, yours, and you. Your chest underneath his palm, warm, and steadying, and alive. He felt it rise once, and fall, all in the time that he let out multiple staggering breaths.

The next time yours rose, he didn't let himself exhale until you did, taking in air from his parted lips and releasing it through his nose, feeling how the air spread thin throughout his body, a good feeling. He did that again, focused on the way his fingertips grazed bare skin, on the sound of your heart beating, in time with his now.

Behind the blank nothingness of his eyelids, scenes played out before him. Visions of his past, echos of familiar voices, spurts of color and light overtaking him.

Then, he thought of you, of the warmth of your gaze, even if he didn't deserve it. The shine of your skin, the way it looked soft even in the harsh light of the kitchen. Thoughts of you, you with him, years ago, months ago, and days, how he'd seen you for the first time in months, standing behind the counter with a smile sweet like the chocolate bars you'd always liked, the one he'd left at your doorstep, a weak attempt at salvaging one of the best relationships he'd ever known. He'd buy a million more if it meant you'd stay with him, by his side, like you'd been for years. Like you were now.

He didn't know how much time had gone by, but he opened his eyes and you were still there, still holding onto him, face looking calm but eyes swirling with emotion. With concern.

He felt fine now, his body having enough strength to support him, but he leaned into you regardless, head sunk down, resting in the place beneath your chin, on your chest. He wanted to get as close to your heartbeat as possible, not just feel it with his hand but surround himself with it.

You brought your hands up to envelop him, one resting on the white cotton covering the hard muscles of his back, rubbing it soothingly, the other coming up to rest in his hair again, gently brushing through the strands closest to the root as if to say I'm here, I have you.

You leaned your own head down to slightly rest on the back of his, mouth brushing against the crown of his head in a way so delicate he wasn't even sure he felt it. But you saw the way he melted into your touch, felt the way the muscles in his back slowly seemed to release tension at each caress. He needed to be held. But he was him, he'd never ask for it. But, you were you, and you'd always know.

You stayed like that for minutes more, though you would've held him all night if he needed it. When he sat back up, the whites of his eyes were tinted pink, and one of his cheeks was gleaming in the light, damp. You didn't comment on it. You didn't say anything at all but stood up from where you knelt and walked towards the counters, peeking underneath them until you found what you needed. You stopped at the sink and returned to your spot in front of Carmen with a plastic deli container filled with water in hand. You offered it to him wordlessly.

"Thank you," he said, taking it from you gingerly, but his voice was hoarse and he felt the red heat of embarrassment as he took large sips of the water, draining it halfway at once. A water droplet escaped from the side of the cup, dripping down his chin, and your eyes followed the movement until you felt guilty about it and stared down at your own hands. The two of you let the silence rest as it was, peaceful and healing, until you felt ready to break it.

"I'm sorry," you said, slightly a surprise for yourself to hear the words from your mouth, but you meant them. Carmen sat back up. "For pushing you to this point. I didn't mean to-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Carmen spoke quietly, voice somehow steady. "It- ... that wasn't your fault. It's happened before, when you weren't here."

You let your eyes scan over his face concernedly because he wasn't looking straight at you and you always felt the need to look after him, even if he wouldn't let you.

"This has happened before?" Carmen gave a weak shrug, like this wasn't something he thought about on his own, something he ever let occupy his focus.

"Something like it."

You made a breathy sound of disbelief. "Shit, Carmen."

So many thoughts were demanding your attention, too many. You wanted to tell him how this wasn't supposed to be a normal occurrence, how not okay it was to ignore his mental well-being. Shake him silly for never caring about the right things, for never caring about himself enough. To give him yet another lecture on letting you help him, on letting anyone help him.

"It wasn't as bad this time." His voice paused all your thoughts. "I think it was because you were here."

You didn't know how to respond, but he finally looked into your eyes and saw how much they spoke for you, how they widened, and then blinked once or twice, shying away. Almost like you were guilty, like you were sad. Something inside of him reminded him that he was probably part of the reason for that, and that ate away at him more deeply than any of his, like you said, panic attacks, ever had.

"I'm sorry, Mars."

Your eyes flicked up to his immediately, intention behind them. "You never need to apologize for having a panic attack, Carmen."

"No, for- for not just that." He paused. "For being an ass. For yelling at you. For not listening to you."

You looked at him wordlessly. You didn't want to say it was okay, because you'd be lying if you said that, if you didn't acknowledge how his words still rang sharply in your head. But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't admit that Carmen certainly made things feel okay when he was calm like this, understanding. Peaceful.

"And I'm sorry for all the shit I gave you about not listening to me."

You let out a quick breath, almost a laugh. "To be fair, I ... didn't."

His heart seemed to swell at even just the hint of laughter that coated your voice.

"Yeah. You don't listen to me." He let the side of his mouth quirk up to match yours. "That's the thing I love about you." Internally he thought, just one of many.

You stared up at him. At the way his eyes seemed to look over your face in adoration. It did something to your heart, pulled on the strings of it, and left it panging in your chest. He noticed right away.

"You alright?" His concern and furrowed brows almost made you want to laugh.

"Yes I'm-," you exhaled. "I'm fine. The real question is, are you alright?" He watched as your eyes flitted all around his face. "To be honest, you don't seem it."

He self-deprecatingly chuckled. "Wow, thanks, Mars."

You shook his arm a little bit, expression disbelieving. "I'm serious."

You thought about how tense he'd been underneath your touch, how tense he'd seemed for the many days that you'd been back home. How that couldn't be healthy for anyone.

"You need to start taking better care of yourself, Carmen." You made sure he was hearing your every word. "Your mental health is important. More important than any job. You have to stop worrying so much about The Beef and start worrying more about you."

He ran a tired hand over his eyes, immediately feeling the urge to look away. "If I didn't put as much as I did into this place, I don't even think it'd still be up and running."

You let the words hang between the both of you for a moment, knowing how important this was to him. It was important to you too.

"I know how much you've done for this place, Carm." You took his hand in yours again. "You care about it a lot, always have. I have too. But you know the toll it's taking on you. That's not good for anyone, and it'll only last so long. And ... that's why I think you should take any help you can get, for now."

As soon as the topic left your lips again, you felt his hand stiffen in your hand, mouth opening to argue, but you held up a hand.

"And before you say anything, I don't care about the full salary, I don't I care about traveling, or 'wasting my potential' or any of that. I care about helping this place, making sure it lasts, for Mikey." You breathed. "And for you. I care about you."

He could feel his own heart start to race in his chest, flustered like he hadn't known you for years, like you weren't one of his oldest friends.

"I care about you too," he said, and the words felt shamefully foreign on his tongue, thinking about how little he'd ever actually said the words. "That's part of why it's hard for me to think about you working here. You mean a shit ton to me. More than anyone else in this damn place."

"You don't mean that." You couldn't stop the way your brows pushed together, looking down at your hand that was holding Carmen's rough and callused ones. "What about Richie, or Fak, or Sydney-"

"They mean a shit ton to me too, but it's ... not the same. You're you."

He looked into your eyes, trying to see if you'd recognized his hints, but he picked up emotions other than the realization. On a frown, on reluctance, on a guarded, shy look.

"I'll always be me, Carmen." You bit at the inside of your cheek, putting off the topic like you weren't important. That was a foreign idea to him. "That doesn't matter. What matters is you not accepting help."

You saw the way his demeanor shifted at your words, a sense of uncomfortableness settling in his bones, revealing itself in the way he sat up straighter. Your grip on his hands was still firm, unwavering, like all you wanted was to make him understand.

"Carmen," you called, but he was already staring at you. "Promise me that you'll let other people take care of you, help you get by. Let me help you."

He was grateful for the way he was positioned, elbows leaning on knees, hands held by yours, because it was stabilizing him, grounding him when he felt like running. He knew that if he wanted to keep you around, keep you by him, he couldn't do that. That didn't change the fact that this was new to him.

"I, um,"

"It doesn't have to all at once." You gave him a smile, a real one, because you knew he was trying. Breaking out of old habits, for you. "One step at a time."

You were back home. Him pushing you away in his head, running, but only in his mind, didn't change that. He didn't want it to. Despite the pull of his mind telling him to hold you at a distance, the push of his heart wanted you. It was drawn to the cradle of your hands, the warmth of your smile.

"I promise."

Your smile grew to a grin that tugged at the sides of your glowing eyes, eyes that sparkled with affection like they held a hidden invitation, a plea for him to let you in. He finally did, and he knew so fully that he would've made that promise to you time and time again if it meant he could have you and see that smile as much as he wanted.

Your fingers brushed the back of his hands as you stood up from where you were kneeling, letting out an exhale that he noticed sounded almost weightless, a change from the burdened way it sounded to him before. The thought put him at ease.

He stood up too, watching you as you retrieved your jacket and put it on, him feeling the urge to help you with even just that. When you focused back on him, the etches of a smile still lingering on your face, it was magnetic. He couldn't look away. You couldn't either.

You stared at the way a hundred different colors danced in the blue of his eyes, a miraculous feat that you'd loved from the start. As you looked at each other, eyes saying more than your mouths had the courage to, your smile grew slowly, heartbeat picking up in your chest.

"Let me walk you to your car," you coaxed, gesturing towards the door. He laughed at the random idea, breaths escaping through his nose.

"What? Why?"

You shrugged, smile and features and everything, warm. "Call it the first step to you fulfilling your promise to me."

Knowing how he'd iced you out, he embraced that warmth. Made it his new home. "Yeah," he nodded. "Okay."

You gestured for him to follow you, he did, and that was all he had to do. You turned off the lights behind the both of you, locked the door, and didn't ask him to do a thing, just to see the amused look on his face when you smiled at him, his eyes staring back at yours like you were a wonder, something rare to be loved and kept safe.

As you walked back to his car, that was all he could think about. How he'd come across this ray of light in his life that was you, and how you'd stayed by his side, a miraculous idea but he didn't even want to dwell on that too much because it took him away from this moment being shared between the two of you, alone, the cold nipping at your skin but it not mattering because too much had happened that night to care.

The moment seemed to come to an end all too quickly. Carmen had stopped once you'd both reached his car, and you did too. He became aware of the feeling of you next to him, savoring it because he knew it'd end the moment he got into his car.

"Carmy," you said, extending the moment just a little longer. He hummed in response, watching as you stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.

"Can you promise me one more thing?"

He nodded, not missing a beat. " Yeah, anything." Something inside of you fluttered. You cast it aside to hold his gaze.

"Promise me you'll always try and tell me what's going on in your head. No more hiding."

His eyes bore into yours like he was contemplating something, a flicker of conflict in them, a vulnerability that you didn't know what to think of. Then, it was gone and you weren't even sure you'd seen it.

"Yeah, I- um," his jaw tightened for a second. "I promise, Mars."

You patted him on the shoulder, a friendly gesture that felt phony even to you. "Great ... that's great."

He flashed a closed-mouthed smile and you both stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, not saying a word.

"Goodnight," you told him, because it was what you would've said to anyone else at that moment, ignoring the whispers in your mind telling you something was missing, that Carmen wasn't just anyone else.

Something tugged at him too, nagging him, insisting that he had more to tell you, more to say before the night was really over, before he had to go to work the next day and somehow navigate his day with the new promises he'd made you. But all he said was "Goodnight, Mars," before getting in his car with just a wave goodbye that felt bare and wrong.

You left him one more of your smiles through the passenger window of his car before walking off to wherever you'd parked your own. He was sure he'd felt butterflies. Butterflies.

Only you could do this to him. He'd felt numb, overwhelmed and unsatisfied all the same time for however long, and then you come back to Chicago and suddenly he felt everything, all the time. It was getting to him, clearly, because he found himself opening his car door and stepping out of it, losing control of his body, loosening his grip of rationality all because of you. Because he wanted to see you, needed to. He needed you.

You were a good distance away from his car by the time he'd gotten out of his, but you turned around at the sound of the car door practically slamming. You frowned, noticing Carmen walking towards you.

"Carmen?" you called into the night, confused. He caught up with you, something behind his gaze that had his eyes shimmering. You swore you could feel the delicate movement of his eyes across your face as soon as he was near enough to truly take it in.

He took hold of your hand, fingers interlocking with yours delicately, an electrifying feeling buzzing through you. You let out a small gasp at the contact, vision shooting down at the point at which you both touched, just a hand hold but the contact took your full focus.

"Hey," he said, something like a smile creeping onto his features and you'd never seen him like this, so exhilarated and full of delicate determination. You looked back up into his eyes, and he took a step closer, finally letting himself be pulled by that magnetic force calling him to you that he couldn't resist. He wouldn't, anyway.

"Wh-," you started, meaning to question him but the thought was brushed aside when he leaned inwards, his forehead falling against yours. His curls brushed against the top of your head, and you secretly loved the feeling, becoming breathless.

"You can tell me to stop, Mars." He murmured it so close to you, breath fanning onto your cheek in a distracting but addictive way, and suddenly you were forgetting how to talk. It didn't matter, because you didn't want him to stop. You looked back up at him, and he saw that in your eyes, so he didn't.

His lips brushed against yours, a taste of what he'd been wanting for longer than he could even remember. The feeling it sent throughout him was immobilizing, and he stayed like that, eyes shut, reveling in it.

It was you who closed the distance, pressing your lips to his and letting the dizzying wave from it spread all over you, to the tips of your fingers that immediately reached up to hold his firm shoulders, and to your brain that buzzed in joy and excitement and a bit of something else.

He froze up for a second when he felt your lips crashing into his. Your lips on his felt like the answers to all his problems, and he needed them in a burning, unignorable way. His brows furrowed and his hands reached up to cradle your neck delicately, holding you like you were more valuable than anything he could've bought, anything he could've wished for, could've imagined he could possibly have.

His lips tugged on yours and yours tugged back, a rhythm that felt easy to follow, like the deep thrum of a heartbeat. And when you both finally pulled apart for air, it was like you could still feel that rhythm, because your heartbeats were beating so loudly and in time with each other's that it felt like the moment was never meant to come to an end.

Your foreheads were still connected, and you knew neither of you had it in you to pull away. You felt somehow even more breathless.

"What was that for?" Your voice was soft, hoarse. You swore you saw Carmen's lip quirk upwards.

"I promised to not hide what was going on in my head." Your hands came up to delicately wrap around his biceps, impossibly solid underneath your fingertips. He didn't suppress the shudder that traveled through him. "Call that the first step."

You smiled, this time against his lips, and somehow that beat every single smile you'd ever given him before. It felt like a promise of your own, to share your warmth with him from now on. He liked the idea, a lot. He'd let you do it whenever you wanted, he liked it that much.

He'd let you take care of him whenever you wanted, too. Again and again, until you got sick of him. But he was Carmen Berzatto. You knew you never would.

[endless-ineffabilities]

reconnaissance (1/3)

Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Reader goes on a recon mission with the White Wolf himself, formerly the Winter Soldier, which goes awry.

(a.k.a. you two idiots are clearly in love but don't do anything about it, until circumstances become so heightened that you are forced to)

masterlist ▪︎ word count: <1k

"Come in, do you copy?"

You keep walking, ignoring Bucky's increasingly grating tone in your earpiece.

"Respond, do you hear me? Meet back at the rendezvous in 2 minutes." Bucky tries again, seemingly deciding that this recon stint is done and dusted. Without even consulting you.

"I know what I'm doing, Buck." You keep up your pace, tailing the man you're supposed to gather intel on. He rounds the corner and unlocks a room, presumably his own office on the base, and disappears inside. "I'll meet you as soon as I'm finished."

"You are finished." Bucky snaps right back. He's only a block away, but he's getting worried that if something were to happen to you, he wouldn't make it on time. "We're only meant to scout the area, assess their operation. Not tail them right inside their fuckin' HQ."

"Woah there, grandpa, watch your language." You smirk, and you can picture him grinding his teeth in frustration. Why is he so worried anyhow? From what you've gathered, this organization is made up of a bunch of blip fanatics who want to restore the world to how Thanos left it. Balanced, sure, as the old shriveled grape said. But also in chaos - with everyone sufferring loss and living listlessly.

These people are insane. And insane is easy to handle, as far as you're concerned. Not one of the big 3 - aliens, androids, and wizards - just pure idiotic nutters.

Bucky has resorted to pacing on the roof of the dilapidated apartment complex he uses as a viewpoint. "Something's not right here. The man you're tailing was never meant to head to their HQ today. I have a feeling they found us out."

"Did they also figure that I would not give a rat's ass about that and - "

"Take the bait?" Bucky interjects.

"No. That I would beat them at their own game. " You whisper irately. You pause when the man comes out of his office and walks away from where you hide. "Wait, I'm going in."

"Don't do anything stupid, doll." Bucky pleads. For a moment, you want to cave in. He no longer sounds bossy, or annoying, like he tends to be on missions where it's just the two of you. He usually tells you to stick to the plan, to stick with him. Like you're incapable of going off on your own. Sure, he has decades more experience, and the effects of a Super Soldier serum to boot, but you wish he would just trust you. But he sounds like he's either desperate to get back home and get this shit over with, or he actually cares that much about you. "Just come back to me. Now. "

"Bucky," you breathe, steadying yourself. "C'mon. This'll be just like that time in Gdansk."

He feels an ounce of relief creeping in. Maybe you're right. "Then I'll be waiting for you, doll. Like always."

Doll. That still sends shivers up your spine. But he doesn't have to know that, does he? You walk up to the office door, and try to make quick work of the lock. "I won't be long. And quit calling me doll."

"What then? Princess?"

"No."

"Sweetheart? Has a nice ring to it." He counters quickly. He must have been sitting on this one for a while.

"Bucky - "

"Yes, darlin'?"

"Alright, that's it. I'm done with this conversation." You warn him, but the colouring on your cheeks betray your tone. Good thing he's not around to call you out on it. The lock gives way, and the door creaks open. "I'm in."

"Damn it." You hear him mumble to himself, seconds later. "Why does she never listen? I think she's actually trying to kill me. Give me a damn heart attack."

"That's likely, isn't it?" You give an unsolicited response. "Considering that you're about 100 years old."

"106, actually." He quips back, pinching the bridge of his nose, tapping his foot, taking deep breaths. He tries everything to calm down and not agonize over you. But nothing works. Bucky doesn't know what he would do if anything were to happen to you.

No. That's not quite right. He doesn't know what he wouldn't do - because he would do anything, kill anyone, just to get you back.

And you just can't seem to grasp that. Though it might have something to do with how he constantly hovers over you like an overprotective older brother, with Sam once remarking how you've got yourself a personal bodyguard. You think that's all it is - Bucky being a nice guy. Bucky watching your back as you would do the same for him. Bucky wanting to keep you in line, so that the missions would go smoothly, especially since he is technically acting as your superior.

You don't see how Bucky's gaze lingers a bit too long on your lips when you relay your mission reports to him. How his hand often finds itself hovering over the small of your back when you walk side by side. You don't know that he observed (not stalked, according to him) how your date played out with that one fellow agent that asked you out. How he tried to find solace in the bottom of a bottle when you invited that agent back to your apartment.

And how he made arrangements to have that agent indefinitely reassigned to Eastern Europe the week after.

The office you enter is encased in shadow, the window shutters all lowered. You're careful not to turn on any switches, so as not to trigger alarms. With steady hands, you raise your Beretta 92FS before you, the accompanying flashlight illuminating the room.

Then you see it. A map of the city pinned to a board covering the east wall.

"Talk to me," Bucky barks in your ear. "What do you see?"

"Jackpot." You can't help but grin. Breaking Bucky's rules pays off after all. This'll show him. "It looks like some blueprint for how they plan to infiltrate the city. Red markings for the areas where they will release the poison in the water supply."

"And how the hell do you know that?"

"Well, boss," you roll your eyes. "probably because there's a note at the bottom of the damn map that says release poison in water supply."

"Oh."

Yeah. Oh.

"Don't take it with you," he starts, but you beat him to it.

"Course I won't. I've already got the whole thing memorized to a tee."

"Get out of there. Now." Bucky emphasizes, and you don't know whether to be touched by how worried he sounds.

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on." Taking one final look at the scene, you head back to the door. But the handle doesn't budge. "That's weird."

At that, Bucky knew something was definitely not right. As if he did not already warn you stay out of there. His blood runs cold, and he springs into action before you can say anything further. Sprinting down the street, he tries to get you to keep talking. "I told you not to do this, doll. I told you."

"I can handle it." But the door stays closed. It doesn't even respond to your exceptional lock-picking skills. You hear a whooshing sound to your right, like a mechanical panel opening. At once, you get into a defensive stance, gun at the ready.

You don't see anything, but you can smell it. It's some kind of gas. A strong sedative, you recall from your training.

"Oh, shit." You mutter. Holding your breath can only keep you safe for so long.

"Goddamnit," Bucky curses while running, not even out of breath, "it's gas, isn't it? I knew it, I just knew it, doll!"

"I'll try the windows." You offer, but quickly find out they're of no use. Sealed shut, like the door.

Bucky's rambling now, desperate. "Should've listened... you should've... stay with me, doll. Stay with me."

You still hear his voice as white spots flood your vision. Dread sinks in as you succumb to the sensation, but you steel yourself. You will get through this. You will.

Especially when you've got Bucky promising, "I'm coming for you, doll. No one is taking you from me."

(a/n) yes, I've rewatched tfatws again. Which prompted this lil thing. Not that I was not absolutely besotted with our Bucky for a good long time back in the day (still am). Are y'all more for Steve or Bucky? Both would be better ofc, but I've never been able to choose. Let me know! 🤷🏻‍♀️💙

part 2 coming shortly!

[apomaro-mellow]

Wrong Number 5

Eddie had been having a greatest time eating in his apartment that anyone could have. Because he wasn't alone. He was with Steve. And then he got to share one of his childhood favorite movies with him. Even though it was a first date, Eddie got the feel that casual was okay. So he'd started the video call with a red t-shirt and black jeans. He knew the odds of Steve seeing his bottom half but he wanted to look nice all the way anyway.

When Steve answered the call and Eddie saw him fill the screen with a very respectable "first date" shirt, he imagined the bottoms were probably a good pair of jeans or maybe even khakis. Steve looked like a khaki guy. What Eddie did not expect was to be flashed when Steve got up in the middle of the movie to get a drink.

But he got up, giving Eddie an eyeful of a bulge in navy blue lace. And then Steve turned and Eddie got to see it from the back. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way he had actually seen that. It had to be an illusi-and he was coming back and those were definitely panties that Steve was wearing.

"....Eddie?" Steve looked at his wide eyes. The man hadn't spoken for a full minute.

"Baby...are you wearing something naughty?"

Steve bit his lip. "I wasn't trying to be naughty. Robin just thought that I could...well, use the confidence?"

"Don't tell me a pretty thing like you is insecure, I won't believe it", Eddie smiled.

"Well those were Robin's thoughts, not mine." Steve turned the movie down a bit and it was clear Eddie and lowered the volume on his end too. "Do you like them?"

"My brain went to moon. I think you're trying to kill me."

Steve's already high confidence jumped to the ceiling. It was nice to be appreciated.

"Can I see them again?", Eddie asked.

"I thought they were fatal?", Steve smirked.

"You know, I've decided I've lived long enough. And if I have my choice of how I go, I choose death by Steve."

"Okay, but if I have a choice, I'm keeping you alive. But if you insiiiist." Steve had returned to his seat on the floor when he got back from the kitchen, and now he rose up to sit on the couch. His legs were crossed, blocking Eddie's view.

The man on his phone whined. "Don't make me beg."

"Hmm, but what if I like begging?"

"Please, please baby, pretty please, lemme see you?" Eddie's hands were pressed together in prayer.

The way he was positioned (in the phone, on the coffee table) it was like he was kneeling before Steve. Slowly, he uncrossed his legs and even spread them a little, smiling when he heard Eddie's intake of breath.

"Shit...Were you planning on showing me this tonight?"

"If you were good...maybe", Steve teased. "What do you think? Have you been a good boy?"

Eddie nodded frantically, hair flopping, jaw dropped as Steve shifted and he got to watch the bulge between his legs move. He would do anything. Beg, kneel, bark, whatever Steve wanted him to do. Fuck, if he was really there, his head would already be in between his legs.

"I bet you could crack my skull with those legs, Jesus."

From his vantage point, Eddie could only make out up to the bottom of his mouth and while he liked his current view, that just wouldn't do at all.

"I've got an idea...What do you say to moving this to the bedroom?"

Steve grabbed his phone and started walking. Eddie straight up sprinted and collapsed onto his bed.

"You're not going to have anyone burst in with a 'code red', are they?", Steve asked as he got onto his own bed, laying down and holding his phone to his face.

"I have blocked out the entire night for you, Stevie. My crew knows that all Code Reds are to be handled by my second in command."

Okay, that made him feel a little special. Steve bit his lip. "I've never really done anything like this before..."

"What? Taking a date to your bedroom? Once again, I won't believe it. You're probably beating them back with a stick." Eddie was literally looking at him. There was no way he didn't have a line of admirers going down the street.

"I meant on like...video. So how do you want me?"

"Well I typically get a burger with my shakes", Eddie waggled his brows.

"Eddie", Steve laughed.

"Wait, I can do better! Can I get a split-top bun, since you've got a whole bakery in the back?" Eddie beamed as the screen shook while Steve was laughing. "Just get comfortable, baby."

Steve did just that, lying on his back, holding his phone above his head. Eddie was in a similar position in his own bed.

"Okay, I think I've done the whole 'teacher is secretly a model' bit before but Christ alive, it's like you've got no bad angles."

"Eddie, I think you're stalling", Steve grinned. At first, he had been nervous about doing this over video, but now it seemed like Eddie was the one who was anxious.

"If I stall by complimenting you, is it really stalling?"

"If you were here...what would you do to me?", Steve asked.

"I would kiss you so hard, you'd pass out", Eddie admitted. "Full on Pepe LePew treatment. I'd start on your hand and make my way up and then I'm not letting those lips go until they're raw."

Steve brushed his fingers against his mouth. It had been a while since he'd been kissed like that, but Eddie wasn't done.

"And don't think I haven't noticed how those moles go all the way down. I think if I get started kissing them now, I can be to your thighs by Christmas."

Steve didn't miss the strong implication of Eddie's physical presence. They hadn't really talked about meeting in real life yet, both of them aware of how risky it could be to meet someone like that. But as time went on, the dangers seemed to melt away.

Steve's hand trailed down his body. He made sure to angle his phone so that Eddie could see just that. "God, I've thought about your hands so much..." His hand came back up to touch his lips.

"I can tell you want to, baby. Go ahead and suck on them. Pretend they're mine."

Permission granted, Steve stuck two in his mouth. Enraptured, Eddie started to paw at himself through his jeans. Steve's mouth was so pretty and it was already so wet. It didn't hurt that he was already moaning. God, he needed to find out where Steve lived and buy himself a plane ticket. He needed to get his hands on him yesterday.

"Mmm, and you know, once my fingers are nice and wet, I like to put them elsewhere. Where do you want me to touch?"

Slowly, Steve pulled them out of his mouth. "Everywhere", he said, lightly panting.

Eddie's canines showed as he smiled. He unzipped his pants, purposely making it as loud as he could so that Steve would know. "I'd like that too. But let's narrow it down, beautiful."

"How's about I show you?"

Eddie's eyes got wide as Steve changed positions and even moved some pillows around and now he had a front row seat to the most prime ass he'd ever seen. Steve was on his knees and bent over slowly. He pulled his panties to the side with one hand and pushed one of his glistening fingers inside.

"Aaahh, Eddie", he moaned, bringing the other man back into it.

"Fucking hell, look at you." Eddie used one hand to pushed the band of his boxers down and bring out his cock.

Steve pushed another into him, pressing his forehead against the bed. He didn't know what he'd been so anxious about. He wanted nothing more than to have Eddie looking at him. Eddie getting hard and jerking off while looking at him.

"Eddie...I need, I need you..."

Eddie spit in his hand and kept stroking. "Tell me, angel. What do you need me to do?"

Steve whined and Eddie watched as his ass shook, fingers sinking in deep before pulling them out and pushing in again. He bet anything if Steve turned around, he'd see a wet spot on those panties.

"Don't worry, Stevie, I'm gonna tell you what to do. Is that okay?"

He saw Steve's head shake in what could've been a nod, but he was glad when he got the vocal confirmation. Eddie directed Steve and soon he had turned (Eddie had been right about the wet spot) so now he was facing the camera. The ass shot was hot but Eddie wanted to see his face when he came. He now also had a pillow under his hips to help with the angle.

And damn if he wasn't an absolute vision, rutting against the pillow, lips parted in a perpetual moan. Eddie had gotten some lube for his hand, but he knew his fist paled in comparison to Steve Harrington.

"Shit, I needa have you Steve. Wanna feel you, make you mine."

"I'm already yours", Steve said, making Eddie whimper. "I'm all yours, Eds, no one else's."

Apparently he was in a really possessive mood because that just put him right over the edge. This beautiful man was pleasuring himself and he only had eyes for Eddie. He made sure his cumshot was in the frame and watched as Steve's eyes glazed over. His licked his lips and bucked into his pillow, Eddie's name leaving his mouth on a sigh.

Eddie swallowed, his throat a little dry. "Can I see?"

Steve didn't need to ask what he meant. He picked up his phone and rose up on his knees, showing Eddie the tip of his cock peeking out of his panties, cum cooling on his stomach as his shirt had ridden up.

"Mmm, fuck. What's that rule in your classroom? About not wasting good food?"

"If you were here, I'd let you lick it all up", Steve said.

"Yeah, about that...can we...?"

"Talk? How do you feel about morning afters?", Steve asked.

"Usually they're pretty awkward", Eddie admitted with a shrug. "But considering I don't need to worry about you kicking me out..."

"Are you free for breakfast?"

"You mean brunch?"

Steve smiled. "It's a date then. Good night, Eddie."

"Good night, my darling."

Part 7

Tag Team (CLOSED)

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @estrellami-1 @newtstabber @omletlove @ifyoudonlysurrender @rehfan @morganski-19 @corvidcantina @dragonmama76 @just-ladyme @tinyplanet95 @goodolefashionedloverboi @idoquitelikebread @kittydeadbones @manda-panda-monium @rhapsodyinalto @paintsplatteredandimperfect @keylime-green @ihavekidneys @samsoble @honorarybrit81 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @aizawa-emma @deleataecount @thesuninyaface @fromapayphone @justmeinadaze @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @resident-gay-bitch @bestwifehaver @dangdirtydemons @ellietheasexylibrarian @perseus-notjackson @pyrohonk @holysteddie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @mrsjellymunson @geekymagicalpotato @notaqueenakhaleesi

[scoobyrooster1]

"But to Qimir it also unearthed how little he truly knew you. And something he couldn't predict or control... that probably terrified him."

Their relationship is so realistically tense and terrible i LoVe it. Because YEAH Qimir having 'killed my last teacher <3 ' in their resume doesn't really mean anything good for YOU does it.

I agree! Thats something that Qimir might want to consider haha! Glad you like it!

She's Mine [Part 2]

Qimir x (she/her)!reader

Summary: You and Qimir travel with the crew to Corinth where you pose as a high class bidder at a black market auction. However, a few unexpected events complicates your mission leaving you wounded and with more questions than answers about the nature of the job. Warnings: Angst, cursing, violence Notes: This is a slow burn story between you and Qimir. I've been researching high republic history and I'm really excited for the next chapters!

*Im trying my best to use canon history but high republic era is a little difficult so there will be discrepancies and times where I have to improvise... bear with me!

She's Mine Masterlist

She's Mine [Intro] She's Mine [Part 1]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One month ago...

Under the thick canopy of trees, the clearing was small, just enough space for the two of you to move without constraint.

You and Qimir had stopped on this planet for a brief respite, also provding one of the few places you could train without drawing unwanted attention.

"Again," Qimir instructed, his voice steady and commanding.

You tightened your grip on the wooden stick in your hand. The makeshift training weapon was a far cry from a lightsaber, but it would have to do. You squared your stance, bringing the stick up in a defensive position.

Qimir moved fluidly as he swung his own stick toward you. You managed to block the first strike, the wood clashing with a sharp crack. But Qimir was relentless. His next move was faster, a low sweep aimed at your legs. You jumped back just in time, narrowly avoiding the strike. You were able to catch your breath if only for a moment as he spoke.

“Keep your elbow up,” he reminded you. “Or else I'll catch you before you can block.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his advice even as your muscles burned from the exertion. It had been a long time since you trained like this. Your heart beat inside your chest so rapidly and with such force that you thought it would burst. You had to remember to control you breathing, only letting air pass through your nose, and conserve what little stamina you had left.

Qimir lunged again. You lifted your arm to block, but your elbow dropped just a fraction of an inch too low. His stick slipped past your defense, tapping your ribs with just enough force to sting. Your torso buckled over in response.

Stepping back to give you a moment to recover, he didn't need to tell you what you had done wrong.

"I get it." You said sternly.

"You need to anticipate the next move. Don't just react—predict."

You clenched your jaw in frustration, wiping the sweat from your face with the back of your hand.

You took a deep breath and adjusted your stance, raising your arm higher this time. Qimir watched you carefully, nodding in approval before launching into another series of attacks. You parried each one, your movements more precise now, more controlled.

The two of you moved in a deadly dance, sticks clashing and feet shifting on the soft earth. You began to lose yourself in the rhythm of it, your mind clearing as your body took over.

It was just you and Qimir, the world narrowed down to the space between your bodies.

Until his stick found your ribs again.

Qimir stepped back, lowering his weapon. "Better," he said, his voice softer now, less harsh. "Still a lot to learn."

You made a face about to mock him for saying a high and mighty master line.

He caught you before you could. "Don't start."

You just laughed, then nodded, panting from the effort. Your arms felt like lead, but there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing you had improved, even if just a little.

"Thats enough for today," he said, tucking his stick under his arm.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You jolted awake shaking off the memory that overcame your senses.

You had been traveling for a few hours and had fallen asleep regret-tingly straining your neck in the process. Qimir sat on the other side of the cargo hold.

After the heated discussion you both had… yeah it was probably for the best.

You had both taken precautions to hide any personal items that wouldn’t classify as civilian.

I.E. one cortosis helmet, vambrace, and lightsaber.

You remembered tracing your fingers over the embedded scars of the metal. It was terrifyingly beautiful.

Try it on.

Those words sent shivers through your entire body.

You wondered if when you returned to Qimirs little backwater planet, you too would craft something made of the precious metal.

Would we ever be able to return?

"Put these on"

Ian had thrown a duffle at your feet. You unzipped the bag to find far nicer clothes than the ones you were wearing.

"What happened to drawing less attention?"

“You’ll be bidding with some serious credits, you need to look as though you didn’t just crawl out of a bantha pit.”

You didn’t bother to scowl at Ian for his cruel joke.

“And who will I be today?”

“Bidder 79.”

“Lovely.”

The outfit was formal, modest, a suit-like ensemble made from breathable fabric in dark hues of blue and gray. You took one of the scarves from the bag and wrapped it around your head and hair. The less recognizable you were, the better.

“Don’t look at anyone, don’t talk to anyone, don’t answer any questions you don’t have to—”

“I think she gets it” Qimir interrupted, his voice curt.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Ian finished.

You gave Ian all the confirmation he deserved. "Don't do anything you would do... got it."

You were dropped at the nearest corner with Rod following closely behind.

The coordinates Ian had provided led you to a rough, gritty part of the city, where the streets were narrow and the air thick with the scent of smoke and decay. The towering buildings around you were a patchwork of cracked concrete, rusted metal, and flickering neon signs, casting eerie glows onto the damp pavement. You approached the entrance of a large, nondescript building, its facade faded and crumbling, blending seamlessly into its surroundings.

Pushing through the heavy, rusted door, you stepped into a dimly lit lobby. The few figures loitering in the shadows eyed you with suspicion. You made your way to an elevator at the far end of the room, its grated door screeching as you pulled it open.

The elevator groaned to life, descending into the depths below the city. As you felt the air grow cooler and the hum of the city above fade into silence, your pulse quickened. When the doors finally slid open, you were greeted by a stark contrast.

Before you lay the Corinth black market, a sprawling underground bazaar hidden beneath the city. The space was vast, its ceiling arched and lined with cables and dim, industrial lights casting a dull glow over the scene. The market was alive with activity—merchants hawking their illicit wares from makeshift stalls, the air buzzing with whispered deals and low, guttural conversations in a dozen different languages. The scent of exotic spices, machinery, and lawlessness filled your nose.

The Corinth black market was a place where laws were only mere suggestions.

Rules, Rules, Rules... If you don't follow them, you never have to break them.

Minutes later, you found yourself seated in an uncomfortable chair, dark lenses shielding your eyes as you scanned the stage ahead. You were in a small room dimly lit but far richer than the bazaar outside. The items up for auction you guessed based on size and weight was a mix of trinkets and far more dangerous contraband, all locked away in secure containers.

Your client had provided you with only a number, leaving you in the dark about what you were actually bidding on. Your job was to outbid everyone else. Rod, as Ian assured you, would make sure you had the funds to back up whatever figure you landed on. How they’d managed that was another mystery, but one you didn’t need to solve.

“Item number XN2187”

Your eyes tracked the stage.

This was it.

What the staff placed on the table next made absolutely no sense to you.

It was a book... or... a journal?

"Let’s start the bid at 100,000 credits."

Maker.

You had to withhold your gasp.

Two people had already called out raising the bid to 250,000 within 3 seconds.

You threw your card up.

“300,000.”

You saw another card go up near the front.

“350,000”

Maker how could a journal be worth this much.

You raised your card again with no hesitation.

“400,000.”

They matched it again. "4500,000."

“500,000”

It was all fake credits and Ian had given you your instructions... attain that item at whatever price... better to end it right here.

You waited for their response, but there was none.

Got it.

“Sold...to number 79.”

Small claps ensued.

You headed to the back of the stage where the transactions were being held.

Suddenly your path was blocked, now inches away from a hooded figure.

"Whatever your being paid, we can double it." They hissed in your ear.

Rod glanced at the human stranger with his fixed glowing pinpoint eyes that seemed to show concern even for a droid.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about." You continued to walk past them.

They grabbed your forearm. Their grip was strong.

“You take it and you’re a dead woman walking.”

You could now see their face. A male human with rusty brown hair and dark eyes.

You shook off the strangers hand and stated with cold indifference, "I already am."

Your response seemed to catch him off guard.

You shrugged him off turning away, finally reaching the desk behind the curtains.

"Bidder 79?" the attendant confirmed.

"That's right. Item XN2187."

"Please have your droid exchange the credits for your purchase."

Rod stepped forward, inserting his chip into the computer. A moment later, a man presented the box.

The attendee looked at the screen, seeming pleased. "Thank you madam. Have a wonderful evening."

Your breath resumed as you smoothly took the box and gave the courtier a smile. What ever Rod had done it had worked. You cracked it open checking that the item was inside.

Rodney turned in the other direction taking a different route to meet back up at the rendezvous.

That had been surprisingly easy.

"See you back at the ship." You whistled as you turned into the crowd behind.

Something struck your mind. The force had shifted near you and you could feel it. You started scanning your surroundings more carefully.

Watch out.

You unholstered your gun but it was too late.

It was all of 2 seconds before you felt the box knocked out from under your forearm. The force of a back kick to your chest sent you crashing to the ground. Dirt filled your mouth as you hit the earth, the impact reverberating through your body. Your blaster had been sent flying across the ground.

Damn it had been a while since you were hit that hard.

Gritting your teeth, you turned to face your assailant— female Twi'lek with green skin, her imposing figure casting a shadow over you. Her face sheathed in fabric and some manner of breathing apparatuses. Time seemed to slow, the sounds of the chaotic crowd fading into the background.

The journal had fallen out of the box now laying between you and your attacker.

It was too valuable to lose. You couldn't just run.

You pushed yourself off the ground, moving faster than you had fallen. As the warrior lunged for the book, you reacted instinctively, snapping your leg out to kick their hand away. The clash of metal and bone echoed in your ears as you simultaneously snatched journal, pulling it close to your chest. The adrenaline surged through your veins as you regained your footing, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

She charged at you closing the distance swiftly. You dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding her grasp. She swung her arm in a wide arc that forced you to duck, the wind from her strike grazing the top of your head.

With the book still clutched tightly to your chest, you spun around, using your momentum to drive your elbow into the Twi'leks side. The impact caused her to stagger.

She recovered swiftly, raising her arm to strike again this time brandishing a small blade. You heaved your body from left to right to dodge, the knife dancing centimeters away from your chest.

You dodged another stab. But she was smart. The Twi'lek flipped the blade through the air catching it with her left hand. You felt a sharp pain spread in your chest. Too distracted with the wound in your right side, you failed to notice her right hand swinging towards you head.

Your brain rattled inside your skull as you hit the earth. Applying pressure to the bleed you turned your pounding head upwards. She picked up the journal from the floor, her other hand now brandishing a blaster pointed directly at your forehead.

"Should've taken the deal"

You only stared down the barrel of her gun. This couldn't be the end.

You wouldn't let it be the end. You blinked. She pulled the trigger. A shot rang out.

You weren't dead.

You stared at the gun.

The blaster shot hung suspended in mid-air, glowing red just inches from your nose.

It floated there, trembling as if struggling against an invisible force, caught between you and the barrel.

Qimir.

You almost couldn't breathe and realized it could only last for so long. You ducked your head before the shot could continue its intended path, piercing the dirt behind you, leaving a small scorched black hole in its wake.

Your breathing was rapid and deep as stared at the hole in the ground that was intended for your head.

The Twi'leks eyes widened. Baffled by what she had just witnessed.

"You... you're a jedi." She sounded as disgusted as she was surprised.

“Not quite.”

In a fluid motion, you kicked a cloud of dust up towards her face. She loosen her grip on the journal stumbling back. Sprinting past her you grabbed the book, the pain of the stab wound luckily numbed by the adrenaline coursing through you. She roared in frustration, but you were already several paces ahead.

You could hear her quick footsteps behind you, but you didn't look back. Your only thought was to put as much distance between you and her as possible.

You ducked into an alleyway once you thought it was safe to stop, determined to sacrifice just a moment to see what you were truly risking your life for.

You opened the book.

Scribbles you couldn't understand filled page after page. Flipping through it all you couldn't make any sense of it.

You stopped at the back of the last page.

Written then carved delicately into the leather near the binding was a name.

Mari San Tekka.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The plan had gone off without a hitch... if you hadn't included the unknown assailant that almost put a blaster hole through your skull.

Closing the blast doors, you buckled over, heart still racing. You ran your fingers over your cheek which was tender to the touch. It had to be badly bruised and you could better feel the one developing across your chest now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Not to mention the blood dribbling down your side.

"That went well."

Qimir had caught you off guard. You didn't think he'd be back to the ship by now with how much of a crowd that stood between you and the ship.

You inhaled deeply resting against the cold metal wall your right hand still pressing the right side of your ribs.

“You had me worried.”

You paused for a moment. You had him… worried?

"I thought I'd have to find a new acolyte after today."

You relaxed your shoulders dropping your hands into fists.

"You son of a bitch."

He smiled with his teeth, his eyes taunting, but his smile faltered when he saw your now exposed lower chest wound.

"That looks serious." You couldn't tell if he was still joking or being earnest. "And what a foul name to call with your mas--"

The ship doors hissed open.

In walked Ian and Rod.

Qimir went quiet not daring to finish his sentence. They didn't need to know what you and Qimir were. If they did, they'd all be dead.

The Jedi say I can't exist. They see my face... They all die.

If that's what it took for Qimir to shut his mouth then fine.

You snapped back to reality reapplying pressure to your side and took the opportunity to interrogate Ian.

"What the hell was that." You yelled.

Ian look disgruntled. "Seems like this cargo is more high priority than I thought."

"Ya think?" You only gave him a pleading look in response.

"Look nothing has changed. You knew what you signed up for."

"I didn't sign up for this... remember?"

"Rod, signal Shaun and Kiro. Prep the hyperdrive, set a course for Canto Bight... You might wanna take care of that." He motioned to the wound that was still leaking blood at your side. "Theres a med bay. Two rights and left."

"Thanks." You started walking towards the doors slightly lightheaded from the blood loss.

He extended a hand. "Here let me help. That looks bad."

You waved him off. "I've got it." Before disappearing down the hall to the med bay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Luckily, Ian had the sense to keep a decent med droid on board. With how sketchy most of his jobs were, it would be foolish not to. The droid had effectively stopped the bleeding, stitched it close, applied bacta fluid, and recommended a pressure dressing before shutting down.

Okay, so not a fully functional droid.

You pulled out the rolls of gauze and compression wraps. The droid had cut through your bloody shirt to access the wound, leaving the tattered fabric hanging from your shoulders. In the mirror, you could see the damage--your chest was mildly bruised, the skin slowly turning a deep purple, especially closer to the wound. You applied a generous amount of gauze and began wrapping the bandage around your chest.

You managed 6 tight loops before a sharp pain made you wince, the movement of extending your torso and raising your arms too much to bear. Breathing deeply, you tried to steady both your head and your heart.

Then, a sudden movement caught your eye, and you nearly reopened the wound as you jumped—Qimir was standing in the now open doorway, silently watching you.

"Maker, you scared me... How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long enough."

"Ha. Ha." You mocked, still guarding your chest, covered but only by a sheer wrap.

"Need help?"

"I got it."

He gave you a look that said, Yeah, sure you do.

You sighed deeply. Every breath was painful. "Fine."

He walked up to where you sat on the med table, glancing at the now deactivated med droid.

"The droid couldn’t do it?"

You tilted your head in response.

"I can call Ian to wrap the rest. He seemed pretty eager," you teased.

Qimir clenched his jaw, clearly not amused, and quickly seized the large roll of gauze from your hand.

"Put your arms around me."

You shot him an incredulous look.

"Maker, you're difficult," he muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically. With a gentle touch, he grabbed your hands and placed them on his shoulders. Then, he took the roll and began wrapping it around the rest of your chest.

You let your hands move closer to his neck, lacing your fingers together and allowing your arms to sag, finding a small amount of relief.

"It's a faulty piece of equipment," you continued. "Leave it to Ian to have a semi-working med droid on a risky job."

Qimir's eyes were only focused on his hands, meticulously layering the bandaging over your wound, making sure it was secure.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," you quipped.

His focus remained unwavering, but you noticed a small smile tug at the corners of his lips.

You allowed yourself to dissolve into this moment. It was innocent, and it was yours.

He finished the last length of the bandage, gently tucking it into the top wrap. His fingers brushed against your skin, and your breath hitched slightly. If he noticed, he pretended not to. Both his hands now rested softly against your ribs, checking the stability of his work. Your hands remained on his shoulders.

He looked up at you.

You met his gaze.

"If you let someone get that close, you must make every decision with confidence and conviction. Remember—"

"Don't react, predict," you repeated the mantra.

"There's no room for error in a fight that close."

"Yes, master," you added with a touch of sarcasm.

He only nodded, still getting accustomed to your use of the title.

"Thank you," you said, recalling what had happened only hours ago.

"For the wrap?"

"No. For saving me."

"Saving you?"

"The blaster shot."

"... You're welcome."

He released you, making you remove your arms from his shoulders.

The moment was gone... and something in you would've done anything to get it back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of the ship rattling against the void of space ripped you from sleep. The walls trembled, and a deep, ominous roar echoed from the rear of the ship, filling you with an immediate sense of dread. You ducked out of your cot.

Qimir was already on his feet.

Before you could fully grasp what was happening, he was out the door, and you were right behind him. The cold, metallic floor vibrated beneath your bare feet as you both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor.

Suddenly, the ship lurched violently, a brutal force that sent both of you stumbling. You felt yourself losing balance, your body careening toward the metal wall. But before you could brace for impact, Qimir’s hand shot out, grabbing you by the waist. He swiftly twisted his body, pulling you against him, sending himself backwards.

His back slammed into the wall with a sickening thud. You felt the force of it reverberate through him as he grunted, but his grip on you remained firm.

For a second your chin rested on his collar bone. His mouth grazing your forehead and hair. The heat of his body was a stark contrast to the cold metal wall you were expecting moments ago. You were pressed against his chest, your breath catching as you looked up at him. His expression unreadable.

"Your stitches." He questioned.

"Fine." You assured him.

He only scanned you for a moment then let go of you continuing to walk down the corridor. You hesitated for one second, your heart still racing, before following him.

When you had finally reached the cockpit you found Ian walking toward you and through the doorway before grunting. "Might be a problem with the hyperdrive. We have to make a pit stop."

Any thoughts of Qimirs skin against yours was gone.

You followed him back down the hall.

"Qimir."

He stopped.

You gave him a look.

-----------------------

"Mari San Tekka” he repeated the name you had given.

“Do you know that name?”

“Not the person, but the San Tekkas were a great dynasty, closely affiliated with the Republic as hypersurveyors”

"Hypersurveyors?"

"Mappers who worked for the clan, charting new hyperspace routes."

"The writing, I didn't see it at first but they could've been notes or calculations."

"Could you read any of it."

"I've seen hyperspace calculations before, but I didn't recognize the figures in this book. Why would someone risk so much to retrieve it?"

Qimir took a long pause. "I don't know."

The uncertainty laced in Qimirs voice irked you more than you'd like to admit.

———————————————

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think!

[sheepheadfred]

Ectoberhaunt Day 9: Fall

Summary: Right on the heels of that ghost pirate ship raid and subsequent rescue of their parents, school feels off with some pretty notable people treating him quite differently. Though the only person who hasn't yet caught on is the object of all their affections and attention, Danny Fenton.

direct continuation of [day 8]

(5 times someone started acting weirdly/caught feelings +1 time they all came together and Danny realizes what's been going on)

AO3 link

Dash:

Fenton was actually kind of cool last night! What is this world coming to?

But also humble? He wouldn't accept any compliment and while Dash gets it, but c'mon! He got all of them to fight a ghost pirate crew and soloed the captain. That has to mean something to him!

...

Right?

Fuck! Now Fenton has him concerned. Made such an impression it kind of feels wrong to use his usual demeaning nicknames for him, too.

He can't get it out of his head. That Fenton taking his aggression out on that ghost was a little hot. He's not supposed to feel like this! He's probably just concerned it will be turned on him next!

Yeah, that must be it!

Fenton is so scrawny, of course he'd be worried! He's able to do all of that while still being such a stick of a person. It also feels wrong, though, with how badly he takes care of himself. He's badass but too skinny. Dash wonders if it's because of whatever freaky stuff goes on at that house with his freaky parents. His sister never seemed to have that issue, after all! But he really doesn't know anything about their home lives to know for sure.

Besides his sister was the total package with beauty and brains so, why is he more drawn to the wimp? That's not how it's supposed to go!

Is he really a wimp if he's just hiding what he can do and chooses not to use it?

Maybe if he got him healthier this feeling would go away? Worth a shot at least. He can last in a fight working on adrenaline but what about day to day? No wonder he hates gym!

At school, though, old habits threatened to resurface even as they felt wrong.

Slamming his hand right next to Fenton's head to block him in, he belatedly realized their positions looked a lot like that 'kabedone' (?) pose Paulina fantasizes about. Mainly with Phantom. He just stands there as his brain resets, face on fire, as Fenton just looked at him. A face journey going from surprised to fearful to annoyed and now to worry and concern.

"Uh, Dash? If this is supposed to be a 'congratulatory' beating or something to get back into the swing of things, can you get it over with before class? ... Ooor not? I get last night was wild but, like, maybe you need the nurse? I'm just... gonna... gooooo then?" the nerd rambled before he could fully process any of his words and then bailed when he didn't answer fast enough.

Lame

His concerned gaze and strained smile as Dash stood there caught him off guard.

Of course the loser with freaky parents acted like that. He must be making fun of me! No other reason he's making me feel like this! Gotta be a trick!

Trying to logic it out to himself or not, it's hard to deny that he shouldn't be concerned over him with how Dash has treated him. His undeserved kindness continues to shine though only now he can see it for what it is no matter how hard he tries to reason it to be something else. Something more acceptable to the people around him. Despite the hope starting to burn in him.

In class, he tosses a protein shake at Fenton's head and unsurprisingly, at least now anyway, he caught it.

"Fenton, if you do those crazy stunts all the time you might as well bulk up!"

Confused but seemingly thankful, he just nods before turning to the front as the teacher walked in. Both electing to ignore what happened earlier.

HA! He took it! My job is done.

If only he could convince his heart of that.

Is this how he's always felt or is it just starting? Did he start because the grown ups deemed it ok and never stopped him? Or was it just pressure from home? Or all of it? He's afraid to know the answer.

Paulina:

Dash has been acting weird. And not the fun kind of weird. First, he kabedon'ed Fenton and then he offered one of his protein shakes? Not just the generic kind, the good stuff he usually keeps to himself, too!

She decides to interrogate him during lunch with the rest of their group of friends. Still, she can sort of understand why even if her heart belongs to Phantom.

Even if Fenton did have a charm to his dorky side and can be attentive and kind. And brave.

He never shows that last quality most of the time anyway.

Didn't he not want credit out of fear of being forced to only have that life?

Like most boys in this school, he is clearly into her but as time went on he didn't let it control him.

So he has better self control than a lot of their peers, so what?

Nevermind that 'loser', her friend is off and it's time to get him to talk. Or at least distract him if he's not ready. It's usually the latter knowing him and the pressure he puts on himself.

On top of it being school hours.

"I can't get it out of my head," Dash confessed to her, "But, like, why do I find Fenton hot?"

She knows Fenton's friends act as his guard dogs sometimes for one reason or another. And Manson would sooner wear pink than let it happen for either of them.

All she could do was pat his arm as she turned away, not wanting to admit she feels the same.

Valerie:

Damn!

That bullshit from last night still pisses her off!

First that earbleedingly bad music gets blasted everywhere. Then, and then! It turns out to be an evil plan by the no good ghosts and not just some cruise! Phantom didn't even show like the fake he is! And, while she knows this is not the worst part is feels the most humiliating, a good chunk of their grade level invaded Fentonworks for a party without inviting Fenton or her. Her, she can understand, but he lives there. That's just cruel!

And yet, he still somehow got them to listen to his plan.

She is admittedly still impressed.

It was fun to fight with him. He even gave her a name to go by! She never cared about a vigilante name of her own before but it feels special.

Helps that he's cute, too.

Goth girl refuses to make a move and Valerie might if she doesn't.

Dash and Paulina, too, now if how they've been acting is anything to go by. They did use to be her friends, so she still remembers their tells and hints.

And saw the 'Kabedon Incedent'. If he hasn't been such a bully she'd feel worse for him.

Even the rest of the week, they have been falling all over themselves in their own ways over him. At least Danny will willingly talk to her and they are kind of friends even when his friends don't approve. She hopes that they can all be friends one day, despite how hostile they can be.

"Hey, Danny. Anything crazy happen recently?"

"Nah, just the crazy amount of homework."

"Mr. Lancer didn't assign much this week?"

"I have late assignments and keep having to redo them. Mostly from my parents inventions making a mess everywhere. Not to mention running from ghost attacks, my bag gets singed at times just for being my bag."

"Oof, I see what you mean there!"

The two share a laugh before splitting up.

He's always been fun to talk to. At least after I started giving him a chance. Was I just too stuck up and angry to see this side of him, before?

Sam:

Sam was feeling pretty good about herself!

Bringing back quality music to this town and kicking some ghost butt using those dumb records as scratching boards.

Seeing Danny in the lead like that, getting even the likes of Dash to listen, was really cool.

The fact that even Valerie showed up was very unexpected. But you know how it goes, plans never go unscathed upon contact with the enemy and all. Probably for the best, anyway, that Danny didn't bring out Phantom if she was already on her way.

At least they seem to be starting to see how cool he truly is.

Sam did not like that Danny hung out with Valerie given she tries to kill him when he's Phantom. And yes, that is the only reason!

Stop asking!

Doesn't help that 'pretty in pink' and 'Mr. Angry Issues' keep trying to butt in. She was busy being the ammo in the skies disrupting their broadcast! All she knows is that Danny went feral on Youngblood's ass and now the two seem to be tripping all over themselves around him. Being 'nice' like they actually care. She'll believe they've changed for the better when she sees it. Because right now it seems like they're only doing this to flirt with him! And just!

She's not possessive, she just doesn't want her friend to get hurt is all!

At least that is all she will let herself believe.

Stop denying you want him to look at you like that...

Tucker:

That was awesome!

They got to fight and even win against those pirate ghosts as just kids with Fenton gear!

Too bad Danny couldn't be Phantom at all, though. That was the main reason he had to deactivate the ghost shield. They made it work without Phantom anyway.

Valerie showing up was the least expected thing, though. He thought she had a night off or something? There were so many adults he's not sure if her dad was there in the crowd.

Guess ghost hunting means no time off after all. Kind of like us. Except she wants to get rid of my best friend permanently and doesn't even know it. My guy is a bit too forgiving sometimes.

His best bro has been getting so confused that everyone is nicer to him since the raid they did on the pirate ship. Like his bravery or badassery leading and fighting with them wasn't amazing! Like his feralness to switch to kindness and jokes right after wasn't charming or endearing.

Like its that hard to believe people like him more now that they see more of what he can do and who he is besides the son of the town loons who just so happened to be right about this one thing.

His plan didn't end in public destruction or excess harm. Unlike when his parents go after a ghost or when a ghost tosses him around and he gets blamed for it!

He can be very mad on his bro's behalf because Danny won't be. He's always simmering under the surface for the injustice his friend deals with. Tucker knows Sam is, too. She's just louder about it while he tends to silently judge more often than not.

But he can see why some of them have started to catch feelings for him, even if most are in denial about it. Sam included. Like the queen of denial, holy shit!

As always its up to the best friend to get everyone on the same page.

After all, he has always liked his best friend even if its slowly became platonic but romantic love for him, too. He just wants his bro happy and he's the only one who can see Danny can be with all of them, platonic or romantic. Now he just needs to get through to everyone else, too.

Here's to hoping I survive this intervention.

(+1) Danny:

Man, Danny feels so much better after taking his aggression on Youngblood and those other pirates! Too bad Ember got away, but hopefully that means she wont show back up again for a while.

He just hopes people won't treat him too differently.

Don't get him wrong. He's grateful they helped keep it a secret with how fast they all hid the evidence, but he knows that's partially to save their own skins from their parents and gain his parents' attention.

Getting to fight by Valerie's, or he supposed now it'd be 'Red's, side without even a hint of her trying to shoot him was even better than getting to be Phantom. Though, he only couldn't be Phantom because she showed up.

Good thing, too. Had it been anyone else they'd be dead. At least He's already half way there and has a transformation.

But she has been warming up to Phantom at least, he thinks.

Fighting by Dash's side as an equal is something he never could have guessed would be so rewarding. He hasn't even threatened to beat him up since then!

He thinks?

Dash keeps giving him these weird shakes and powders, talking about working his muscles in what he thinks is supposed to be encouragement. He's been bullied for so long by him that he really can't tell if it's a prank. Still does it anyway because Dash keeps looking at him and he is very unsure if refusing would gain his ire. Especially when he started doing this.

As time moves on, he becomes more settled into this new normal. The kids who were there had enough social sway that he was able to get his grades up with some good tutoring and some good extra credit. His attendance still hurt but they were able to explain it as his parents wanted him to partake in ghost hunting, too! Not the whole truth but a great cover as no one will want to talk to his parents to confirm. It's like the cool kids have been taking 'nice lessons'.

Dash has been helping him build muscle, so now his human form isn't so weak that he can barely catch his breath just after a jog around the block... Or for when his powers are blocked in some way. Those weird shake things have been helping, too. Something safe to eat when the meat at home usually reanimates and they still have the ecto-weenies guarding the fridge, consuming almost anything put in there from ectoplasmic samples to fresh groceries.

Paulina has been strangely nice as well. She hasn't even made weird comments about or hit on him as Phantom as much. She gave him some make up tips when ghosts fights got bad enough he had bruises in human form once turning back. And he's kind of into it! It's fun playing with make up in a way he never expected like this. They now have a nail night where they work on each other's nail art and do facials together. They do it once a month together now. Star shows up when she can but sometimes it's hard to make all three schedules work with how busy school is and all the constant ghost attacks. During their hang outs she sometimes even calls him cute! That's so nice of her. Such a good friend compliment! He can tell because shes not using her mean or fake nice voice while saying it!

He and Valerie continue to grow closer as she teaches him some of her martial arts and encourages him to blather about space. He hugged her out of sheer excitement that he has someone else he can gush over his favorite thing to. Things are so much better between them now, even with her dislike of Phantom. They even teamed up together during Pariah's invasion a little bit ago as their alter egos and she offered him the chance to use the mech suit his parents made as Fenton. Though, she did threaten Phantom to make sure 'Danny' came back safely. Well, both him as Phantom and as Fenton to be safe. He could only promise to do his best given everything.

He's so glad she gave him a chance and he her. He first started offering her companionship out of guilt, but he has grown to truly care about her. His friends don't seem as hostile towards her anymore and now they all even hang out sometimes.

Sometimes Dash and Paulina are even in their friendly hang outs as well, old hostilities are forgotten or put aside, and he is thriving.

Sam still is her usual, prickly self. But it seems like she realized something about herself and others lately or something. Shes been getting along better with the other girls and seems to have come to an understanding of sorts with them. At least he thinks so. Danny is not entirely, sure but at least she has other things to do than get into another meat and veggies debate with Tucker. He hates having to meditate those!

And where would he be without his best of best bros? Tucker has always been his rock. Their whole lives he has been his closest companion practically since he would walk. He's always so chill and smart and skilled with his hands and just. He is grateful he remains in his life.

Or maybe half life? Let's not think about that right now.

Danny thinks he's starting to catch feelings for all his friends, not fully platonic feelings. And not just the girls and not just the new or old. But all five of his closest friends! Is he supposed to choose? He has too much love in his heart and fondness for them all at this point that it would hurt to forsake any of them like that.

Do they even feel the same way?

Would it be worth it?

He has new friends and they are all getting along now.

So why should he ruin such a nice thing for himself?

He was worrying about it so much that it worried the others and he didn't even notice.

Tucker grabbed his hand, dragging him out of his head.

"Where are we going?"

"Your intervention this time, dude. We've all been getting worried. You're pulling away, man! We all have something to say to you together and you're not getting out of it. This could help, bro."

They made it to an empty classroom during lunch. Everyone he was having a crisis about all in one place!

How was this supposed to help?!

At his confused and increasingly distressed reaction, everyone decided to just lay it all out there. All of their feelings and that they don't want to lose him.

Danny starts to cry. He doesn't want to choose or lose any of them, either. He's so relieved and overwhelmed that he can't stop.

"You do have two hands, Danny," Tucker reassured him, "You can choose one of us or all if you want. Hell, it doesn't even have to be romantic! You absolute goofball!"

"Wha? That's a thing?! You can have more than one? Wouldn't that be cheating?"

His concern and confusion was sweet. He truly didn't know and didn't want to hurt any of them, after all.

This time, Paulina and Sam teamed up.

"Danny, you sweet, feral teenage boy," Sam begins, "it's not cheating if all parties are ok with it. It's all about consent and communication. We are the ones bringing it up."

"The goth is right, sweetie. We all talked about it before. And who knows, maybe some of us will work better as platonic partners, we can figure that out down the line. But we can give it a try if you want."

He gave a wet laugh and the sunniest smile in response.

"Yes! I'd love to try it with all of you. Hope we can make this work!"

This really is the happiest Danny has been! He was so worried he could lose a friend if he confessed and they all like him! And that having multiple partners is allowed if they know! And! And!

He rushes in to give them all a hug at the same time. A group hug with their special, feral little guy in the center. Like he is in their hearts.

Yeah, this did make me feel better. Tuck sure was right about that!

[graves4girls]

Jealous johnny cage one shot?Preferably rock star fem reader

☆ chemical kids and mechanical brides | johnny cage

✮ wc. 1.01k ⚠︎ warning(s): fem!reader the hardest part of this was finding a good enough title i stg. i'm still iffy about it but wtvs ⟡ be sure to check out my work on ao3 → gravesforgirls !!

The adrenaline from the show is still running through your veins as you pack up your kit, humming to the song blasting from the stage as you brush away the hair sticking to your face. There were significantly more people in the stands than your last show, probably due to the leaked photos of you and Johnny cuddling up to each other at one of his movie premieres. It wasn't long after that people found out who you were, and your band's popularity sky-rocketed in the following weeks. 

You shove the duffel bags and drums into the back of the van, a smile cracking your tired expression when your eyes fall on him.

"That was fuckin' amazing."

His hands encase your face, littering your face in kisses as you laugh quietly, weakly pushing at his chest.

"Don't, I'm all sweaty."

He sticks one more kiss to your lips, big grin plastered to his face as he looks at you. "Arguably hotter."

You roll your eyes, shoving his hands away and pushing the doors closed with a sigh. "I almost don't even want to go to the club. The excitement is wearing off and now I'm just exhausted." 

He steps closer to pull you into his chest, hands grabbing at your hips to keep you in place as he presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

"You and I both know damn well they'll chew you out if you ditch 'em. Y'know, for a rockstar, you sure are a goody two-shoes."

You punch his chest lightly before slinking your arms around his neck, pouting a bit. "Am not. I just like to sleep."

You huff quietly when the van's horn blares, reluctantly pulling your arms away.

"Beat it, Cage! You're holding up our drummer!"

"Fine. She's all yours." He waves at the girl hanging out the passenger window, dropping one more soft kiss to your lips as he lets you go. "I'll meet you there. Don't have too much fun without me."

You're ushered toward the bar as soon as you step into the lounge, opting to sit on one of the stools and wait for Johnny while your friends disappear into the crowd. You busy yourself with your phone, and you fail to notice someone staring at you from across the room, slowly approaching you through the sea of people drunkenly dancing. 

"Hey."

You jump a bit at the voice, eyes finding a man suddenly taking up the space in the previously empty seat beside you, but you shoot him a tight-lipped smile despite the spook. 

"Hi."

"You're from that new punk-rock band right? The tough…tough something?"

You perk up a bit, eager at the opportunity to meet a fan. "Ruff puppies, yeah. Spelled r-u-f-f."

He nods with a small laugh. "Right. Not the best with band names. But yeah, I've heard a ton of your songs. Shit's sick."

"Thanks. We actually just came from a show a couple blocks down."

He hums, waving down the bartender. "What's your preference?"

You shake your head with a small smile, waving a hand in the air. "Oh, I'm not drinking tonight. I'm just here for moral support."

"Let me buy you something else then. How about a coke?"

You shrug. "Really, it's not necessary–"

He orders a beer and a coke, shooting you a warmer smile. "This is probably the only time I'll ever get to buy the pretty drummer from Ruff Puppies a drink. I'm gonna take it."

You flush the slightest at the compliment.

"Your latest album by the way? Best shit I've heard in the scene in a hot minute. And, from one drummer to another, you're insane."

You spend the next few minutes shooting band recommendations and techniques back and forth before his eyes wander behind you, mouth falling open a bit, and you follow his gaze to find Johnny ambling over to you, the traces of a scowl on his face.

"Holy shit. You're Johnny Cage, right? Man, I love your movies. Ninja Priest was so good."

"Yeah. I appreciate it." He turns to you, snaking a hand around your waist. "Can I talk to you real quick?"

You knit your brows together, but you nod all the same, excusing yourself and following him into a secluded corner of the club, tilting your head as you look at him.

"What's up?"

"Who was that?"

The wrinkle between your eyebrows deepens. "You're talking about the kid? He's a fan of the band. He was just asking about my drumming."

He huffs a bit. "If he's a fan, he should know you have a boyfriend."

"Johnny."

His eyes aren't on you, instead drifting over your shoulder to glare at the person in question. "He bought you a drink."

You roll your eyes, slipping your fingers into his belt loops and pulling him closer. "It's just a coke, Johnny. Don't be like that." You press a kiss to his chin, leaning against him.

"Be like what? I'm not being like anything. 'M just not crazy about random dudes flirting with my girlfriend."

You bite back a laugh, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt to pull him closer, kissing him softly. "You're cute when you're jealous."

He grumbles as you draw back, hands resting on your waist as he continues to avoid your eyes. "I'm not jealous. And I definitely wouldn't be jealous of that little rat."

"Mhm…whatever you say, babe." He finally looks at you fully, softening a bit at your smile. "I think you need to loosen up a bit. On me?"

You drag him back to the bar, and you're about to sit back down when he lifts you from the stool, taking your spot and pulling you down into his lap instead, and you fight against his strong hold in a weak attempt to get away. 

"You're so embarrassing. Let go."

His arms tighten around you, and any attempt to pry them from your waist is futile, hiding your flushed face in your hands as he chuckles. 

"I just wanna make sure everyone here knows you're already spoken for."

[fandoms--fluff]

Okay this is going to be Legacies. So, I was thinking Hope x Reader. I was thinking where Reader is a normal human and She has been together with Hope 2 years. But the thing is that the Reader doesn’t know that Hope is a Tribid and she didn’t tell the reader. At night, Reader finds Hope going against vampires and she uses her tribrid abilities and saw it all and Reader was shocked. Angst and Fluff :)

The Secret's Out

Flufftober, October 4th

Female reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: mentions of dead people/killing?

A/n: It's more really fluffy! I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're taking your usual late night walk. Now it doesn't sound the safest, but nothing bad has happened. Well, not until up to this point.

You hear screams coming from around the corner and being your curious self, you take a peak. Don't get it wrong, your heart is beating restlessly, but you're going to be wondering for the whole night what's going on.

What you see makes you go frozen. You're standing on the street corner, watching as your girlfriend is fighting five people. But in the next second all five of them go down, lifeless. They have veins running up their faces. The way they all fell, it can't be natural, it's as if some force field struck them and now you notice all their hearts are littered on the ground.

You look back over to your girlfriend who obviously caused that. There's no way she didn't, she's the only other person there, and it certainly wasn't you. Except, her face isn't normal, her eyes are amber and veins are sticking out under her eyes.

"Hope?" You yell out. Stupid thing to do, right? But you only live once, you guess.

Hope turns, hearing her name, and sees you, her girlfriend. Her very human, shouldn't have to know about the supernatural, girlfriend.

Her vampire face immediately retracts and a shocked one replaces it. She vamps over to you. You jump from the speed and how she just appeared like that.

"Y/n? I'm so sorry you had to see that" she said, clearly starting starting panic. "Well, what the hell was that?!" You exclaimed.

Hope grows silent, not knowing the perfect way to tell you.

"Well?" You sigh. She just looks at you with this lost facial expression. "Fine, if you don't want to talk about it right here, do you want to come back to my apartment and talk there. There'll be no prying eyes or ears, I promise" you tell her softly.

"Okay, yeah. Are you sure?" She asks, noting how calm you've become. "Yes, I'm sure, I want to know what all of this is. And while we're walking I'm going to come up with some conclusions to what you are and tell you what I thought after your explanation and you can then tell me how stupid I sound, got it?"

"Got it" she gives you a nervous smile. It's extremely confusing to her for how she's the nervous one here, but she just pushes it aside. She walks next to you as you guys walk over to your apartment a couple blocks away.

When you guys made it in your apartment, she follows you to the couch. You motion for her to sit down beside you and she slightly nods, taking a seat.

"Okay, so I kept this hidden, well the best I could obviously. The school I went to, I don't anymore, but you know how I visit my friends and all that stuff. Well, it's not a normal school, it's a school for the supernatural." She starts. You raise an eyebrow, a corner of your lip poking up, but you want her to finish speaking.

"I'm a part of the supernatural, only I'm the only one of them, there is. There are three species, witches, werewolves, and vampires... I'm all three. I was a miracle child between my father, who was the original hybrid - a vampire and a werewolf, and my mother, who was a werewolf before she turned into a hybrid after she gave birth to me." She gulps before continuing. You give a reassuring smile. "They're both dead now, as you already know. I wanted to tell you the moment I fell in love with you, but I was scared and stressed, and thought you'd be terrified and hate me. I thought you'd..I don't know, but I really, really don't want to break up and I don't want you to think I'm an abomination monster and hate me for ever not telling you. Or just for existing, because people have been calling me that since before I was born. But I never want you to call me that." Hope looks to you with pleading, glossed over eyes.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, calm down" you tell her, and you pull her into a hug. She nuzzles into your shoulder the best she can and closes her eyes.

Everything's fine, y/n's not showing any signs of hate or anything, I'm okay, breathe, Hope, breathe. Hope thinks to herself before slowly pulling out of the hug.

You place your hands on her shoulders. "Okay, so you're telling me that vampires exist. And you are part vampire. Wait! Do you sparkle in the sun like it Twilight?" You joke with faux excitement.

"Okay, haha. Are you alright with this? Because you're taking it freakily very well" Hope places her hands on your shoulders as well.

"Yes, I'm one hundred percent alright with this. I just really need to know one thing" You say, a small scheming smile displayed on yourself. "What is it?" She asks.

"What spell, or whatever that was, that you did to those I'm guessing other vampires did you use? Cause that was awesome now that I think back" You ramble with an excited energetic puppy-like face.

Hope chuckles, "Okay, I think it's bedtime," Hope says, but caves when you make your puppy eyes instead. She now sort of wonders if you're somehow a werewolf with how you have that look mastered.

"Okay, how about this, we go to bed, and then in the morning we'll go for a walk to the falls and you can ask me all the questions you want and you'll also get to burn energy" she kisses your forehead.

"Deal!" You kiss her. You guys go to your room. She changes into the pajamas she always keeps here along with a bunch of her other clothing items. Because she probably spends more time here than the actual dorm room she still has at the Salvatore school.

She gets into bed beside you, and immediately cuddles into your chest. "Thank you for not thinking I'm a freak" She mumbles against your soft skin.

"And thank you for not kicking me for the stupid questions I asked. I love you so much and could never think of you that way" You kiss the top of your wonderful girlfriend's head.

[imonawholedifferentlevel]

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐓𝐨𝐲 - 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏ/ɴ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ɢʀᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴜᴍᴏʀ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ 18+, ᴛᴏᴘ! ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ, ʙᴏᴛᴛᴏᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀɢᴇ ɢᴀᴘ, ʙᴀᴅɪꜱᴏɴ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛᴇɴɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ: ᴄᴀʀᴏʟ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: lizzieolsenswhore (from wattpad)

ᴀ/ɴ: ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɪ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ꜱᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ʜᴜɴ!

"Murphy! Pack your things your moving to C-block!" Hellman shouted my eyes widened in shock and I turned and saw one of my best friends Daya looking back at me with the same expression.

"W- what for?!" I asked alarmed he just said nothing and stood at the gate with his arms crossed I sighed and got up from the table and walked towards me and Barbra's shared cell.

I felt Barbra's gaze on me as I started packing my things "and just where are you goin?" She asked putting down a small box of coke she was snorting.

"I'm leaving" I muttered and she quickly shot up a look of disbelief.

"Like hell you are" she snorted and stood up.

I mean me moving to C- block wouldn't have been so bad because to be honest I felt like Barbra was only using me because I used to be a drug seller my business was spreading through about ten states before I was finally caught.

I had feelings for the older women for a while bit she made it bluntly obvious that she was straight unlike her four eyed sister Carol.

See she was the reason why I was scared to move to C-block because I'f Barbra was bad Carol was extremely worse the true definition of a sociopath and has been trying to kill her older sister for the past 30 years.

And sense I was one of her right hands Carol knew exactly who I was.

I had only saw her about three times when I was working the janitor job and had to go into C-block with other inmates to clean but aside from her scary demeanor she was gorgeous.

"I can't do anything about it Barb" I stated packing the rest of my things she said nothing else and sighed.

I nervously looked down at my feet but gasped a little when I felt arms wrap around my small frame "stay safe l/n" she said in a firm but soft tone I smiled and hugged her back.

"I will" I said and exited the cell I heard some people say goodbye and I waved to them back before I heard the gates open and I was escorted out will hellman.

I felt eyes burning into me as I entered C-block I never liked being the center of attention and felt extremely uncomfortable.

"Alrighy Murphy your in Cell 1-03 good luck" he stated with a smirk before walking off.

"Well, well, well look who we have here!" I sighed when I heard that familiar Boston accent I turned and saw my older cousin Madison walking towards me with her girls trailing behind her.

Me and Madison never had the best relationship she had horrible anger issues and always tried to beat me up and play pranks on me everytime I visited just because she got bullied at school.

But I had always been stronger than her despite me being pretty small and it always ended with me beating her ass and her throwing another tantrum she was always a huge baby.

"If it isn't my cutie little cousin" she chuckled and her girls followed.

I rolled my eyes and placed my stuff down "Madison" I stated crossing my arms.

"That's Badison to you" she grunted with a sarcastic smile.

"Ok then don't call me your cousin cause it's embarrassing being related to you fartison" I said knowing how much that nickname hurt her back then heard one of her girls snicker silently but one look from Madison shut her up real quick.

I grabbed my stuff and walked forward unaware of Madison sticking her foot out to trip me I stumbled forward but quickly caught myself and ended up doing a front flip back onto my two legs.

Some people gasped and I fixed my clothes before giving my cousin a glare "5 years later and I still outsmart you with that move grow up Madison" I said and walked off.

I looked to my right and saw Carol looking at me with a sharp gaze but I caught an ounce of curiosity in it as well I quickly looked away and walked towards my designated cell.

When I got inside I saw that the bottom bunk was occupied so I put my stuff on the top one.

"Murphy huh?" I turned around and tensed up seeing Carol leaning against the door with a smirk.

"Yeah and not proud of it" I stated changing out of my beige clothes and into the dark blue uniform not even caring about the fact I'm being watched.

"So you must be the little toy who was always running behind my sister" she said walking closer to me and I backed up a little.

"Wouldn't say that more of a tough toy" I said grunting a little when my back met the wall she put her hands on either side of my head and leaned closer to my face to the point I could smell her candied breathe.

"Well now your in my block and the way I see it you have two choices join me and live or you don't so what's it gonna be princess?" she asked.

"Fine" I said and she smirked backing up from me and walking out of the the cell like nothing happened.

After that day I started working for Carol I felt pretty guilty doing it tho since I was loyal to Barb for so long and my feelings for her still hasn't faded.

But at the same time me and Carol started to get closer and I started to form feelings for her Madison started to get jealous since I was basically taking her place and it was quite amusing to say the least.

The longer I worked the Carol the more my feelings for her grew and aside from the slight flirting we do I didn't think she got the message or the idea that I had a crush on her.

"Hey Carol" I asked looking up from my magazine and she did the same.

"Yeah?" She asked.

"Have you ever been in love before?" I asked she raised an eyebrow before letting out a snicker.

"Hell no love is bullshit" I felt relived that she didn't like anyone else but upset that she thought that way about it.

"Bull-true" I said back and she gave me a suprised look before rolling her eyes.

"You've been around me too much" she muttered under her breathe and I chuckled.

"But seriously love isn't bullshit it's a wonderful thing to feel the best thing to feel" I said and she gave me a puzzled gaze.

"Why are you even talking about this I mean other than the fact that you had a little sexual crush on my crack head sister who mind you is straighter than a zipline" she said putting her magazine down.

"Ok one I don't like her any more I like someone else-"

"Oh do you now?" She asked.

I felt my face heat up a little and I nodded "as a matter of fact I do" I said.

"Well then who is it doll?"

I looked into her striking blue eyes that were waiting for an answer and I took a deep breathe.

'Now or never' I thought and I leaned forward cupping both of her cheeks and pressing my lips against hers.

I felt kinda scared when she didn't kiss back but it vanished when she wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me onto her lap.

I wrapped my hands in her hair making sure to not mess it up.

Within seconds she was ontop of me with a smug look.

"You just dug a deep whole for yourself sweet cake" she cooed darkly and yanked my prison pants down in one swipe I yelped silently but felt myself getting more turned on my by the roughness.

Carol started leading kisses down my body and spreading my legs exposing my wet area she growled lowly and pressed her knee up against my sensitive area.

I moaned softly when she started moving her knee in circles and tried moving my hips with her but she gripped my waist with an iron grip and slammed my hips onto the rough material.

"Don't fucking move" she sneered and removed her knee.

She leaned down and gave my thighs kisses and love bites I whimpered and took off my shirt and bra.

I started fondling my breasts giving my upper body some attention Carol saw what I was doing and stopped to lean back up and attach her lips to mine again.

I licked her upper lip asking for entrance and she opened her mouth allowing me to slip my tounge inside of her mouth.

She leaned her hand down and squeezed my ass roughly while using her other hand to rub me through my panties I moaned under my breathe and grinded my hips into her hand.

"Please Carol" I pleaded she pulled away and gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine.

She gripped my jaw and made me look into her eyes "beg tell me you want it" she said.

"Please please Carol make me yours i"ll do whatever you want just please" she growled and yanked my panties down.

"Whatever you want princess" she snarled.

She placed my legs on her shoulders and went down giving my clit a long lick I squealed at the sudden action but it slowly vanished when she started going down on me.

"Oh my god" I moaned gripped the railing of the bunk bed I felt her smirk against me and plunge her tounge deeper inside of me.

"Fuck!" I cried out she gripped my thighs tightly running her hands down my smooth skin.

After several blessed minutes I felt my stomach tightening as my moans got louder my climax getting closer.

Carol leaned back up and stuck two fingers into me moving them at a rough pace I cried out.

"You wanna cum princess?"

"Yes, yes!" I whined feeling my climax getting closer.

"Then cum" she whispered into my ear and curled her fingers hitting my g-spot my eyes rolled in the back of my head as my arousal covered her fingers.

She helped me ride out my high before slowly removing her fingers and I whined from the sudden loss.

"So who do you like again?" She asked wiping my juices off.

I gave her a look and she chuckled under her breathe and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

"You keep playin your cards right and I might just let you take Badison's place fully" she said and got up to grab a lollipop.

I smiled and tucked myself into the covers maybe I could show Carol how to love I'f I play my cards right.

[rebelwrites]

Eighteen: He Wants To Play Cupid

Charles Leclerc x Nova Teller (OC)

Till the wheels fall off masterlist

Small town meets the fast lane. What happens when two souls meet? Will it end in happiness or will they both crash and burn?

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

“Bro, get that coffee machine on!” I hollered over my shoulder as I kicked my Nikes off, not bothering to place them back on the shoe rack, “make yourself at home boys.”

Jax appeared from the kitchen, his brow cocked, “and why can’t you make the coffee?” he hummed.

“Urm, because I don’t wanna and I’m going to get changed,” I smirked, running up the stairs to my room. The moment I had shut the door behind me I stretched my fingers out, hissing at the tightness, looking down I noticed the dried blood spread across my skin, how I managed to split my knuckles, it wasn’t like I punched a brick wall but then again Ima’s face was 90% plastic so it made a little sense. Shaking my head, I ignored the sudden stinging coming from my hand as I tugged my clothes off leaving them in a pile on the floor.

I wanted to be comfy so I grabbed my oversized Ferrari shirt and bike shorts.

The sound of laughter coming from downstairs made my heart skip a beat, it was safe to say Elenor adored Charles and Pierre. The bond they had formed in such a short space of time was special and I think Jax was starting to get a little jealous of the amount of time his daughter was spending with her new ‘uncles’. My chest tightened at the thought of her having to say goodbye to her two new favorite people, she was going to be distraught. No matter what happened with me and Charles I was going to make sure that I kept in contact with them because I wasn’t going to break her little heart.

My head was still spinning from the comments about being in love with Charles, I didn’t think it was obvious I was falling hard for him but apparently even though I tried to hide it everyone around me, including the man himself could see I was.

“Nova if you aren’t down here in 5 seconds I’m pouring your coffee down the sink!” Jax shouted up the stairs.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare!”

“5”

“You asshole.”

“4”

“Have I told you how fucking annoying you are?”

“3”

“Fuck off.”

“2”

“Shit,” I cursed as I tripped over my own feet on the top of the stairs, “I'm coming.”

“1”

“Pops, Jax is being annoying again,” I shouted, sprinting down the stairs, trying not to land on my ass. The last thing I wanted was to end up in hospital with broken bones because Jax was threatening my coffee.

“You had your chance,” Jax sang as he sauntered back towards the kitchen.

“Lay one hand on my mug and I will cut your balls off with your own knife,” I growled, jumping from the third step up, sticking the landing on the hallway floor. I was struggling to get traction due to my socks on the polished hardwood floors. “Jackson Nathaniel Teller, don’t you walk away from me!” I screeched, sliding down the hallway trying to catch my brother.

“Nova, stop screeching,” Pops scolded, standing in the opening of the kitchen blocking my path, meaning I crashed straight into him.

“But Pops, he started it,” I whined, pouting at him, “I’m only finishing it.”

“Jax, stop winding your sister up,” Pops chuckled, shaking his head before entering the kitchen.

Narrowing my eyes at my brother I shoved him out of the way but I didn’t miss my chance to jab him in the ribs as I moved him away from my coffee, “make yourself useful and go get the living room set up for movie night.”

The moment Jax left, an awkward silence fell over me and Pops. I hadn’t properly spoken with him since his last episode, we made little comments with each other but things had changed. I hated the tension between us, this was the man that saved my life, the man who was always in my corner fighting when I was at my weakest and here I was fighting his decision on moving into a care home.

“Pops,” I whispered, leaning against the worktop finally looking up at the man that was my hero, “I know we need additional help but,” I paused, feeling myself choking on my own words, the tears threatening to spill over my lashline, “I feel like if we shove you in a home we have failed you.”

The coffee was long forgotten about as I hid my face in my hands, the moments the words left my lips I felt a slight shift in the weight I was carrying on my shoulders. I had never admitted to him just how I felt about him going into a facility.

“Tellers never quit on family.” I sobbed.

Pops pulled me into his arms, squeezing me tight, running his fingers through my hair. something he used to do to soothe me when I was a child, “I could never think you failed me, my sweet angel,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against the top of my head, “I can see how much pressure this is putting on both you and Jax and the last thing I want is to be a burden on either of you.”

I found myself gripping his shirt, hanging on for dear life. There was no way I was going to put him into a home, “we can get through this, Pops,” I cried, “we can get help, Charles made that donation so we can get someone in, someone to take the pressure off. The fucking wheels haven’t fallen off yet and I won’t let them,” I whispered, looking up at him.

“Thought that was an anonymous donation,” Pops chuckled.

“What 16 thousand dollars? Bit obvious if you ask me,” I said with a weak smile, “the boy is as subtle as me and Jax trying to sneak into the house after we had been drinking underage.”

A warm smile appeared on his face, like he was remembering the years me and Jax were absolute trouble makers, “I guess you are right,” he hummed, leaning in, pressing a kiss against my forehead, “if you want to get some assistance then we can look into it, but I want you to at least take a look at some of the places I have found. At least then we have covered all options because sweetheart I am only going to get worse.”

Taking a deep breath, I knew he was right but then again he always was, “okay, I will have a look into them.”

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered, giving me one last squeeze before he took a step back. “now, dry your eyes, take a deep breath, let's go enjoy movie night,” he smiled, pausing for a moment, “oh and tell your man exactly how you feel.”

“Why does everything think he is my man?” I asked, wiping my cheeks with the back of my hands, “we are just having some fun whilst he is on summer break.”

“Oh my sweet Nova, everyone can see that this isn’t just some fun for him. That boy is smitten for you, he practically has heart eyes when he looks at you,” he beamed, wrapping his heart around my shoulder he pressed a kiss against the side of my head, “I can see you holding back, don’t forget I know how hard you love.”

“It’s all going to come to an end in two weeks anyway, I know it’s gonna hurt like a bitch when he leaves so yes I might be protecting myself a little and holding back,” I mumbled, resting my head on his shoulder.

“True love doesn’t knock very often, I’ve seen the assholes you have dated and Charles is the best thing to ever happen to you,” he said softly.

“No, the best thing to happen to me was you, Pops,” I smiled, placing my hand over his.

“Okay, second best thing then,” he chucked, “what I am trying to say is don’t shut the door in his face, his love is true and pure and that is rare, so when a love like this appears, you need to let it in, you need to embrace it with open arms. You may not believe this but he is your soulmate, we can all see it. So, please just let yourself fall madly in love with him, if anyone can work a long distance relationship it’s you and Charles.”

His words rang loud in my mind, it was like I suddenly saw everything clearly. My heart was screaming out for the man that was causing my niece to fill the living room with laughter. Charles fit right in with my crazy ass family and everyone loved him.

Taking a deep breath I grabbed my coffee mug and made my way into the living room. The moment my eyes landed on Charles my heart skipped a beat, he looked up from Elenor, flashing me that perfect smile. Ignoring the look on Jax and Pierre’s face I made my way around the room, placing my mug on the side table that was next to the love chair. The minute the mug hit the wooden top I felt Charles wrap his arms around my waist pulling me onto his lap, causing me to squeal.

“Alright, love birds, get comfy and let's start this movie night,” Jax huffed, waving the tv remote in the air.

Flipping him off, I repositioned myself so I had my legs over Charles before pulling a blanket over the two of us. I couldn’t help but smile as Charles pressed a kiss against the top of my head, “you’ve been crying,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

“I’m okay, promise,” I whispered, resting my head against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, “things are going to be okay.”

The hours passed by, I spent the whole time snuggled up to Charles not really paying attention to the movies, Pops’ words kept replaying over and over in my mind. I had spent so long worrying about this ending I hadn’t been truly focused on the moment but all that was going to change. I was going to let myself completely fall madly in love with the Monégasque that had sped into my life flipping it upside down. I needed to stop hiding behind the walls I had spent so long building, Charles had shown me he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m gonna take her up to bed,” Jax said softly, pulling me from my thoughts. Looking up I saw him scooping Elenor up from Pierre’s chest, she had officially claimed him as her spot for the evening. “I think I’m gonna call it a night as well, today has wiped me out,” before I could speak a loud yawn escaped my lips, I had been trying to hide the fact I was exhausted, “sounds like you need to go to bed as well,” Jax hummed, adjusting his grip so he didn’t drop his daughter.

“Not tired,” I lied, snuggling further into Charles trying to keep my eyes open.

“We should be heading off, it’s getting late,” Charles whispered, pressing a kiss against my forehead.

A wave of sadness washed over me, I didn’t want Charles to go. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him before he had to leave. I couldn’t help but cock my brow at Pops, he had a smirk on his face that I hadn’t seen in a while.

“Stay the night,” he grinned, glancing between Charles and Pierre.

I couldn’t believe the words that casually fell out of my father’s lips, I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights, even Jax had frozen on the spot. Pops had been really weird with people staying in the house overnight, I knew he felt like people were judging us all, especially with all of the sticky notes that were scattered around the house so this was kind of a big deal for him.

“Hell, move your stuff over from the lodge if you want,” he grinned, running his hand through his graying hair, “ain’t like you’ve been spending much time there anyway.”

For once in my life I found myself lost for words, never in a million years did I think he would invite Charles and Pierre to live with us for the rest of their stay. Looking over to my brother I found him staring back at me with a cat eating the canary grin as Pops pushed himself off the sofa leaving the room without saying another word.

“That son of a bitch,” I finally breathed once I was sure Pops was out of earshot, leaning forward I ran my hands over my face trying to fully process everything.

“What just happened?” Charles hummed, resting his hand on my lower back.

Jax let out a low chuckle, adjusting his grip on Elenor who was sound asleep resting her head on his shoulder, “it seems like Pops is having an extremely good day so he has decided he wants to play cupid. But let's face it Squirt, Charles will be in your bedroom most of the time,” Jax chuckled.

“Thought you were going to bed,” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Come on man, I will show you where the guest room is,” Jax said, turning to Pierre. I watched as they strolled out of the living room but Jax stilled for a moment, looking over his shoulder with that stupid smug smirk on his face. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he winked, causing me to groan and flip him off.

Soon enough it was just me and Charles left in the living room, a comfortable silence washed over the two of us. The air around us had changed, it was heavier now. The moonlight creeping through the blinds caused his green eyes to sparkle. He reached up tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before leaning closer. The moment his soft lips pressed against mine I felt my stomach flip, everything felt so right with him, our movements were in sync. It was suddenly clear to me that he was the missing piece of the puzzle, the part I had been searching for my whole life.

He adjusted his position, flipping me in the process so he was now hovering over me. His hands were roaming my thighs as he deepened the kiss. The heat of it was driving me insane, I was turning to putty in his hands, he had this power over me that I didn’t try to stop.

Wrapping my arms around his neck I slowly pulled away from him, resting my forehead against his. As much as I wanted to see where this kiss led, I knew I wasn’t ready and there was no chance I was going to go there with my dad and brother in the same house.

“Allons nous coucher. Let's go to bed,” I whispered against his lips.

“Show me the way, Sunshine,” he said slightly out of breath.

I thought he would be disappointed that this sudden make out session wasn’t leading anywhere but the moment I looked into his eyes those worries slipped away. His green eyes were shining bright with love, not disappointment, it was at that moment I realized something. Pops was right. This was my chance to be truly happy with someone that loved every inch of me and didn’t care about my upbringing or that I wasn’t some famous model. He loved me for who I was.

Charles Leclerc was my soulmate.

@withmyteeth @chibsytelford @stillbreathin @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @burningcupcakefire @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @angywritesstuff @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @buendiabebeta @ferrarifwendvale @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje @queenslife @panicforspec @justme2042 @liv67 @derpinathebrave @clcspeonies @pleasantducktimetravel @raaaaabzzz @mehrmonga @sbgal @fangirl-lb @pitconfirmbutton @oslokij @tall-tanned-tattoo @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @pumpkin-spice-hate @talicat713 @band--psycho @little-diable @i-love-scott-mccall @fourthwallhateclub @theysayitscrazy @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @meteora-fc @beeroses @darklydeliciousdesires @the-jer-bear @extraneousred @youflickedtooharddamnit @babypink224221

[snazzynacho]

HAVEN, chapter one

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!OC (Seasons 1-?) (First time writing for tua and Diego so bear with me)

(Originally titled “Sketchy” then “patience”)

Read on AO3

Read on Wattpad

Summary: Beth meets Diego in a sketchy alley. He is beating someone up and she happens to be nearby. She asks if he needs any help. He seems to say no, but she sticks around for some reason anyway. She ends up saving him from a night at the police station and for that he’ll forever be in debt.

Warnings: Usual tua violence 🤷🏻‍♀️.

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (Netflix)

Edited: 30th aug 2024

Chapter One:

The sky is pitch black. The street lights are dim, with one flickering occasionally. Beth trudges along the uneven pavement, scuffing her shoes. She should really be more careful considering they're the only pair she owns.

The night brings out all sorts of people. Criminals, creeps, the homeless, to name a few. It's a good thing Beth's all three.

Joking. She's not a creep.

She's desperate though. Being homeless is boring, to say the least. Most people ignore her when she's asking for the tiniest amount of money. Anything to get by.

A grunting noise brings her back from her thoughts. It seems to be coming from the alleyway up ahead. She hopes it's not something gross...

Beth hears another noise - a plea. Peering over the side of the brick wall into the albeit sketchy alleyway, she sees a man standing over an injured man on the ground. Another plea from the man on the ground happens before a big blow seems to knock him out. The man doesn't stop kicking him though.

"Need any help there?" her voice startles the man just as much as it startles herself. Why is she talking to a random man in an alleyway?! Especially one who’s driving his boot into another man’s stomach?

"What—?!" He quickly grabs a dagger from his pocket and aims it at Beth.

"Actually, I think you do need help. The cops are around the corner, so you might want to pack it up." For some reason, she continues. She studies the kicking man better this time, taking a couple of steps closer. She doesn’t recognise him at all and concludes that he doesn’t look like too much trouble. Only an off-brand Batman, black eye mask and all.

"Goddamnit..." The man huffs and lets the man on the ground fall to his side, knocked out. “How do you know they're coming, anyway..?"

"I have spidey senses," Beth says jokingly. "What are you doing out here in the dark, Batman? Beating up passers-by? Oh! Should I be scared?" She twists her head to get a better look. The man on the ground is bleeding from his nose, possibly from a punch.

He rolls his eyes. "Ha, ha, very funny. You wanna know what I'm actually doing? I'm tracking down a criminal."

"I think you've done more than track him down. Huh. So you really are Batman." She cocks her head to the side, looking at what he's wearing in the dim orange glow from the streetlamp. "Spandex and all." She can't help but laugh.

"Hey, it's not goddamn spandex!" He glances down at his outfit, suddenly a little self-conscious. "Uh... It's like a leatherish material. Very cool, not at all spandex. Anyway, shut up!"

"Ooh, 'Hit a nerve there," She mumbles and picks up her bag, still smiling at herself at the amusement of the situation. Beth starts to turn away before turning her head back at him, "You coming or what?"

He blinks in surprise. "Huh? Wait, where are you..?" He hesitantly walks over to her, staying a few feet back, a bit distrustful.

Sirens blare in the distance. "Away from the police. Duh." She rolls her eyes playfully.

He snorts out a laugh, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah, lead the way, then. Smartass..."

They begin to walk until a different cop car skirts up the road towards them. Its blue and red flashing lights blind the two of them momentarily.

Diego puts his hand up to block his eyes, swearing under his breath. He moves a bit closer to Beth to avoid the headlights of the police vehicle.

"Dammit..!"

"Shit. Come on!" Beth grabs his hand and darts for the next alleyway.

He stumbles after her quickly, a little startled by her sudden action. He can feel his heart thumping in his chest, due to the adrenaline of nearly getting arrested.

The both of them run through back alleys, dodging and weaving through side streets. She knows exactly where to go, and soon, they reach their destination.

They're both huffing and puffing and Beth soon starts chuckling. The entire bizarre situation and leftover adrenaline are humorous to her.

He pulls his hand away from hers, feeling a bit embarrassed by the physical touch. He leans up against a wall, trying to act casual. "Ah... That was close. You've got some good timing, don't you."

She curtseys as a joke, proud of her accomplishment.

"How the hell did you notice the cops so easily anyway?", He mutters, running by your side, "Are you some kind of clairvoyant or something? Super hearing?”

She snorts. "No. I noticed it while I was walking, a couple of blocks away. Then, I came across the sketchy alley you were in. It's not like I have a superpower or anything." She laughs and shakes her head.

"I thought you said you had your 'spidey senses'?" he smirks.

"Well, that power must be weak now, since I can't figure out your name,"

His smirk immediately falters, replaced by a mildly shocked expression. He blinks in surprise and raises an eyebrow at her but she can't figure out why.

"It's Diego,"

Diego. She likes that.

"And yours is?"

"Beth."

Diego glances away, a little awkward.

"So, Beth, what is this place?" he glances around the abandoned-looking room. The wood is all dirty and broken. There's a clump of blankets in the corner and he realises it's a small makeshift bed with a candlelit lamp beside it.

"Where I live," she shrugs her shoulders and awkwardly turns away, trying not to listen to her anxiety screaming at her that he's making fun of her, or judging her negatively.

"You... live here...?" Diego looks at her with an unreadable expression, his eyes wide. He thinks the place looks unsafe, to say the least.

"Yeah, It's not much..." Beth laughs awkwardly and places her brown bag down carefully on the floor. The heavy weight of the situation she’s lived in for the past year bares down on her. It’s easy to grow used to troublesome circumstances. Feeling comfortable in the adverse.

Diego looks down at the dirty, dusty floor, a frown forms on his face. He then looks over to the bed again, his eyes linger on it for a moment, and his eyebrows furrow. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I call it the dump,"

He smiles at your halfhearted joke, but a frown returns at the reality of it.

"Why don't you go to a shelter or something? You can't stay here, it's... it's..."

"A dump?"

He stays quiet for a moment, a little taken aback by how bluntly she speaks about the place she calls home. He has so many questions. "How long..." He pauses, looking back at her. "How long have you lived here, exactly...?"

"A few months. A year. It's all the same." She shrugs like it's no big deal. He clenches his jaw. This shouldn't be a surprise to him. There are homeless people everywhere, it just... it just didn't occur to him that she's one of them.

"A year..?" He repeats, the disbelief clear in his voice.

"It's all I have. You can stay here until those pesky cops leave,"

His expression softens, and he can't help but feel a little guilty for saying anything at all after hearing that. He can tell she's getting uncomfortable with the subject. So, he nods.

"I... Thanks," he manages to choke out, his voice low. He‘s awkward, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"It's no problem," Beth says quietly and pulls a chair for him to sit in while she sits on her bed. In that moment she realises how reckless and naive she's been. She just met a man who beat up another man in a sketchy alleyway and took him back to her home...she could have been beaten up. Or killed. Or worse…

Diego glances at the chair, a bit conflicted. He wonders why he doesn't just leave. He's hidden from the police more times than he can count. He’ll be fine on his own. Always have, always will be.

Although he is unaware of the internal dilemma she's having, he is unsure of what to say now. The awkward tension lingering in the air is almost palpable. However, he forces himself to sit in the chair.

His hand finds his way to his mask, remembering he still has it on. He takes it off in one smooth motion, and ruffles his hair.

"...So..." He says, breaking the silence. "Why are you living alone in a... place like this? Like-" He cuts himself off, his voice lowering."How'd you end up here?”

"Oh. You know, life happens. Life doesn't turn out the way you thought it would." This is the best she can say right now, especially with the part of her who can’t believe how handsome he is, now she can see his face properly.

He pauses, eyeing her carefully as she speaks. He can sense a hint of something in her voice that he can't quite pinpoint. He chooses his next words very carefully, hesitantly speaking up. "I know life's a bitch, believe me," he says with a scoff. He shifts in the chair, glancing around the place once again. The thought of her current situation continues to bother him for some reason. "Life can be... difficult."

She nods in agreement.

He sighs and leans his head back against the chair, letting his eyes wander over the dirty, run-down space around him. They linger on her for a moment, as he quietly studies her face in the dim candlelit light.

"Hey..." He speaks up suddenly, his voice a bit quieter. "How old are you, anyway..?"

"Twenty-seven,"

He hums. "Thirty,"

"Well," she clears her throat, "I think we've established that you aren't going to kill me because you would have done it already." Beth chuckles, "Tell me about you." She chirps up, intrigued to know more about the mysterious dagger-wielding man in spandex—she means, leather.

He blinks in surprise, not expecting Beth to turn the conversation onto him. At this moment, he realises she seems to know nothing about The Umbrella Academy, that he is one of the forty-three children born spontaneously with superpowers.

Diego is unsure of what to tell her. He's so used to people knowing exactly who he is, from the Umbrella Academy. After a few seconds, he lets out a deep breath with a smile. "Me, huh?" he says, and plays with his fingers, "Uh, well, there's not much to say. I'm a pretty typical dude." He pauses, his eyes dart around as he thinks about what to say. He glances over at her. "I guess... I guess the only thing that's... that's worth mentioning is, I like knives." He doesn't seem to want to go further with his life story either, which kind of comforts Beth.

"Wow. you don't say," she teases.

He laughs and grins at her with raised eyebrows. "Oh, ha, ha. Very funny," he retorts, feigning annoyance. "Yeah, I like knives. They're practical and they're damn cool," he says, putting his hands in his pockets. "It's not some weird obsession, I promise. Just a... hobby, let's say. A very dangerous hobby." A hobby. That description should do for now...

He suddenly realises he's rambling. He never talks about himself like this. He clears his throat and leans back a little in the chair, avoiding eye contact.

His eyes travel down to his feet, focusing on the worn black leather of his boots and he can't help but think about how normal this felt, how easy Beth and him seem to talk, even though this entire situation started as anything but normal. Throughout Diego's whole life, he's used to having to keep his guard up, but now, with Beth, he feels like he can actually relax.

He glances back at Beth. Her hair, which he realises now is quite messy, swishes and sways and falls along her back as she crouches down, and begins to empty the contents of her tatty brown bag. Beth freezes, though, for a second.

Beth doesn't want him to see all the cans of food she's managed to scavenge and embarrassment washes over her. She decides to quickly take out one can for later, and secretly swap it with the sharp metal instrument she stole moments ago — one of Diego's daggers. It's nothing personal, she says to herself, as she zips the bag close, slides it aside and smiles up at him.

He, of course, is oblivious to Beth stealing from him. And she would like for it to stay that way. The dagger will come in handy for her. She's sure he has others. In fact, she can see some more on the harness he's wearing. Batman.

Diego raises an eyebrow slightly, his eyes tracking the movement of the bag out of the corner of his eye. His senses tell him something is wrong, but he can't pinpoint what exactly. He brushes it off, however, as he glances at the time on his watch instead. "Jesus," he mutters to himself. "It's already one in the morning." The adrenaline is finally wearing off, and the realisation sinks in that it's the middle of the night, he's in the dingiest part of town, and he's alone with some girl he's just met.

Diego glances over at Beth, watching as she fidgets with her fingers, seemingly lost in thought. He thinks once again how odd it is to have such a normal conversation with a near stranger. He has not opened up much to anyone in a long time. "I better get going. I haven't heard any more sirens."

Beth seems to jump from his voice, a bit startled. She clears her throat, quickly nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, probably." A brief moment of silence falls between them. "I'll see you around, I guess...?"

Diego smiles and says goodbye. She can feel her heart sink as he starts to walk away, reaching for the shabby door. She tries not to show how she feels as she plasters a smile on her face. Before he leaves though, he swiftly turns on his heel, facing Beth again. "Thank you ever so much for your hospitality," he feigns a posh accent and pretends to tip an imaginary hat he's wearing.

His lips curve up into a cheeky grin as he says this, his eyes flickering jokingly at her. She can't help smiling a little at Diego's playful action, her mood lightening immediately. He glances at her one last time, "Bye, Beth." Then he turns around and heads out the door.

After she cooks dinner, she lies down on her bed. Beth thinks she will dream of dagger-wielding Diego forever.

___________

A/N: the way she's so unbothered about him kicking somebody 💀

I have a tua blog btw! It is @nacho-hargreeves

[toomanybandstocare]

{Sweet Whiskey}

Program: There are some people who come into our lives who are meant to be there through the worst and best of times. Their hearts are entwined with one another and beat in rhythm like it's the only why they know how to exist. A connection that makes so completely sense that it causes us to doubt ourselves and our partner.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Bartender, GN! Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Length: 4015w

Warnings: Alcohol + bar setting, swearing, heartbreak, drinking when emotionally / mentally unwell, miscommunication kind of? they let their insecurities/fear get the best of them more like it ... I think that's it? Let me know if I missed anything (minus the usual, not edited / work shopped as much as I had hoped)

Camp Resolute Masterlist

Song Request: "You're too sweet for me" {Too Sweet // Hozier}

Counselor Note: For the amazing @starboytech! This is a part of the @cloneficgiftexchange hosted by Ghost - thank you so much for hosting as always. Daisy, I hope you enjoy! I'm sorry it's on the later end of the day. I've been in an absolute rut with all my creative hobbies, so I'm afraid it's not that good. I hope you're doing well, and I was so excited you were my partner for this exchange. I miss our chats and being a part of this community. <3

Post Script: As usual, as much as it terrifies me to write Wolffe - I'm always curious about exploring his character and how to express a vulnerable side to him since he's always conveyed as confident and domineering. I don't know if I achieved well, so may be possibly out of character. And honestly, I'm okay with that. I think for the past year I've been so nervous to write again because I saw and experience first hand how people reacted when their favorite character isn't portrayed how they wanted, and I let that add onto my writer's block. So fuck it - writing is learning how to hone your craft and style. Not everything you or I write will be a masterpiece, and not everyone will enjoy. We're write because we have an itch to communicate what it means to be human through our perspective and how others may view the same experience in a completely different lense.

Shifting your weight on the cool durasteel stool, you take a swift sip of whiskey from the chilled glass in front of you. It kisses your lips with a bittersweet sting, and you let the amber liquid overcome you with little struggle. As you swallow the drink, your gaze sweeps the noticeably larger crowd that surges through the club tonight in a melancholic haze. Your throat constricts in combination of the whiskey’s burn that flares through your system and the all faces who bare too much of a resemblance to the man who left you sitting at this very bar with a broken heart a year ago. Yet after all this time, a pang punches your chest through the walls you’ve built without fail when your mind drifts back to the memories of him.

Everyone, nat-born or clone trooper alike, carry a refreshed air of hopefulness that feeds the electric energy coursing through the club. It weighs down on your weary muscles and sticks to your skin as the air thickens with every new patron who enters 79s. You sink further into the impassive, catatonic stupor you’ve become all too familiar with and avoid anyone’s eye. Fear churns your stomach as you recalculate the odds of anyone recognizing you and the inevitability shoots an arrow of panic through you. Unable to hide from the live reports and battle coverage, the Republic’s latest victory has been impossible to ignore alongside the footage of Commander Wolffe and the 104th battalion who lead the charge. Cries of excitement and cheers ripple through the crowd as club-goers are quick to find their partners for the evening while you cozy up with a bleeding heart from the glimpses of gray armor plates that catch your attention on the opposite side of the bar. The back of your neck stings in an increasing flare of unease. In a bout of potentially misplaced confidence, you swallow the lump of anxiety crawling across your tongue with another sip of whiskey and refuse to cut your evening short. The odds of the battalion choosing 79s as their destination for their night out on the town was unavoidable, but you liked your odds of Wolffe opting out of their celebrations like he used to do a hell of a lot better. A bitter, melancholic laugh wisps past your lips, and you shake your head with another indulgence of the amber liquor. The echo of his words rage and crash against your skull slicing a fresh cut across your heart that catches the alcohol in its wound. Its sting spreads across your chest and makes it difficult to breathe as that night overcomes you.

“This isn’t working”. A low rasp breaks through the uncharacteristically quiet music playing at 79s.

“What? Did they switch whiskey suppliers without consulting you first?” you nervously chuckle. You fiddle with the straw to your fruity cocktail and peer up at Wolffe from across the glass’ edge. The pin pricks that have been present all evening now sting your skin in a sudden alarm. You’ve been clutching onto your rose colored glasses as all the signs seem to have begun to show up over the past few weeks. Insecurity tangles with the adoration you hold for Wolffe as you stand by the commander’s side on nights out when you notice all the glances and giggles sent his way. Out of anyone in the galaxy, he’s chosen to be with you yet you struggle to find your place in his world. Never uttering the fear to Wolffe knowing there are so many more concerns than the irrational thoughts that bite at the back of your mind. “ Maybe they have your beer on rotation. Kiva -” 

“Us, cy’are” Wolffe swiftly interrupts you before you can call the attention of your friend on bartending duty tonight. “We… aren’t working,” he quietly clarifies yet he leaves little room for argument with the stoney expression he struggles to maintain. Wolffe’s gaze scans your face for any reaction in a last act of desperation, and his heart squeezes with the slow realization slipping over your radiant smile. The crease between his brow deepens when your expression stills with a detached vacancy. Stuck looking up at him with eyes - those fucking eyes he searches without fail for in every crowd - void of emotion. Wolffe’s heart thunders against his chest and begs him not to go through with this irrational decision.

Everything around you goes still. The neon lights cut through the tension in the air in a slow haze as other patrons beam and laugh all around you. Nothing goes through your mind as the warning sting ignites into an all consuming inferno of betrayal. Its flames burn through your veins as your breath comes out short and forced. "Why?" you quietly push further.

 Wolffe's expression pinches for a moment. Your determined gaze cuts through him, and Wolffe has to fight the urge to not shudder. For all the hardship and tragedy he's faced, Wolffe has never felt a bone chilling dread like he does standing before you. “We're too different, cy’are” he clips back. The words come out tight as they roll off his tongue with difficulty. Wolffe clutches his glass as your gaze narrows, and he raises the amber drink to take a slow sip. His usually cool bravado cracks under the tension, and he tries to wear a similar mask to avoid revealing the fears that gnaw at the back of his mind. Wolffe bites down the all too familiar wince that accompanies his vice. Not even the sting of whiskey can warm him.

“That's what works best with us. We compliment each other,” you bite back. Your knuckles bleach as you tightly grasp your cocktail glass. “From the minute we’ve met, we’ve always gravitated to each other to the point where everyone asks where the other is if we’re not together. Don’t you dare try to push me away when it’s obvious to ourselves and everyone around us that we’re meant to share our lives together. I know there’s something else going on, so you don’t you fucking bullshit me. I want to be with you, Wolffe, and I know what I’ve signed up for. Nightmares, phantom pains, long distance with no promise of the next time we’ll see each other - I have no reservations about navigating this with you. When everything feels like it’s crumbling underneath you, you without fail come to me to remind yourself that there is some hope left for the galaxy. That there are people who want to see you and your brothers return home. So don’t you dare say we’re too different when all I want is to stand by your side and love you”.

Wolffe lets out an airy chuckle, “You're too sweet for me”. With a control that he no longer believes he possesses, Wolffe places his glass on top of the bar and out of the corner of his eyes he catches how your body stills at his words. Your sudden passion to fight back wavers, and Wolffe lunges at the opportunity with a difficulty he forces down. “You know what you’ve signed up for?” he slowly repeats. “I don’t think you really do, because you’re not the one facing clankers and cannons every day fighting to survive. I spend every single fucking moment of my existence watching my brothers die by my side and sometimes even taking their last breath in my arms,” Wolffe spits out. It takes everything in him to swallow the waver in his voice and allow the pent-up devastation of war to consume him - to weaponize himself against the one person who loves him unconditionally. “While I live in the uncertainty of the next time I'll be planetside, you spend your days disconnected from the sacrifices so many have made to keep the system safe. To keep you safe. I wanted to break things off kindly, but clearly you're so delusional that you can't tell when someone's grown tired of your fantasy. I’m sick and done spending my limited days of freedom playing house to entertain you. I need you to come back from the clouds right fucking now and listen closely. You're, too, sweet, for, me,” Wolffe all but growls. His hand screams in agony as he clutches the empty glass with white knuckles. There's a morbid humor that the crystal-like glass stands strong against his chokehold as his heart shatters in time the tears that softly trail down your face. His chest burns with regret that singes through him as he carves this moment in his memory. Without daring to meet your eyes, Wolffe turns his back on you.

Your glassy gaze stings as you recount that devastating night. You shake your head abruptly while rapidly blinking back the new onslaught of tears and try to collect your shaky breaths. You hastily bring the whiskey glass to your lips and take a sharp gulp. Bitterness blooms over your tongue and overpowers the burning desire for the amber liquor that you normally find solace with. With an elbow on the bar to lean your head on the empty glass, you raise your other hand to pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut. Melancholy and drunken fatigue sit heavy on your shoulders as you fall into the ritual like haze. It's not a storm of emotions that overcomes you. No, that's stopped at the one month mark. In the months after that, your heart began to slow into a dull rhythm that drew out all of life’s vibrancy. Self destruction swiftly wrapped its claws around you and beckoned you into this dark, unfamiliar place. By the six month mark, you stopped struggling against its ghostly touch and sought its company in it rather than your friends'. Not a single one of them could break through to pull you out of this fog as you slipped further and further from them. The silent agreement came into contract after the eighth month when they realized there was very little they could do that would actually help you rather than break you anymore. You would only indulge in your weekly ritual during Kiva’s shift at 79s. Speeder card was left at home as you rode in with him to work, and he would  bring you back to your apartment at the end of the night. A fresh sheet of sheets would always be made up for him, so he could spend the night in your guest room to ensure you were safe.  Should anything alarm him during the night, Kiva would immediately send a message to the group chat and your ritual would come to an early end with a severe reality check.

A dull clunk vaguely registers in the distance as you take a slow breath. “Normally, I'd be in a rush to close out and get us to home,” Kiva murmurs from across the bartop, “but I can wait this one out. Just try to enjoy the company of a person for a change”.

Your eyes flash open, and Kiva's back has already turned away from you before you can even open your mouth to call him back. Cool condensation causes goosebumps to rise over your skin when your hand bumps into a freshly made cocktail, and your attention snaps to the bar top. Your posture stiffens at the sight of what was once your favorite sweet beverage for nights out. Nausea rocks through you as you set your empty whiskey glass next to it with a shaky hand.

“C’yare,” he quietly calls out.

You take a sharp breath. Nearly a year to the date since the last time you heard his voice, and Wolffe still manages to make your skin flush from the pet name alone. But the warmth of past memories and alcohol can’t defend itself from the sudden chill that overcomes your body. An uncomfortable understanding overwhelms you, and his voice rings alarms in your mind once more in a mournful sense of deja vu. 

“Wolffe,” you force yourself to acknowledge.

Dread floods Wolffe, and the skin at the back of his neck stings. He takes a cautious step closer to you - sweeping his gaze over your stiff posture. The sharp glint that catches him from the coroner of your eye reminds him of a wild animal assessing a threat. Wolffe's heart rate spikes, shooting blood to the surface of his skin and burns. Everything is wrong. This is wrong. This is not you. This is not the same sweet love who he adores even with all the guilt and anger he holds for himself from the last time he saw you. “What's happened?" he cautiously asks. Though he already knows the answer, Wolffe holds on to the waning hope that he's wrong. For once in his life - Wolffe desperately wishes for his instincts to mislead him in this moment. 

It could be the remnants of your tipsy haze. It could be the disbelief that punches you to your core. It is most certainly a fucking combination of the two at the very least. Every muscle in your body tenses - ready to pounce. “Excuse you?” you quietly hiss. You narrow your eyes as anger flares through your chest. “What, happened?” you punctuate the words of his question and turn your body to face him dead on. You let your other arm drop to the bartop, avoiding the drink glasses and dig your nails into the cool durasteel. “Did you really care so little for me that you couldn't possibly fathom that your actions have consequences even off the battlefield?” A sickening sense of pride twists inside you at the sight of Wolffe unable to hold back a slight flinch. 

Bile builds at the base of his tongue, and Wolffe carefully slides on to the stool next to yours. Resting an elbow on the bar top, he leans his head on one hand while the other twitches on his thigh. Your stormy gaze holds Wolffe in a suffocating swell. Gliding his tongue across the back of his teeth, he takes a calculated pause before admitting: “I care for you so deeply that I would rather you hate me for the rest of our lives than hurt you. So seeing my cy’are before me as this new person - someone who I can barely piece together just how I was able to recognize - all because of the decision I made in hopes of keeping you safe but actually broke you? I would willingly volunteer for the next no-return assignment, because I cannot live in a galaxy where my sweet love is so bitter - by my marred hand no less”. Wolffe’s chest heaves as his heart crashes against its cage. His skin feels hot from the searing rush of blood cutting him from the inside, and he squeezes his fist on top of his thigh to stop himself from pulling on the collar of his blacks. He doesn't remember when he started to lean closer to you, but as his gaze flickers across your face, Wolffe swallows the lump at the back of his throat. Unease crawls over the stony façade of his usual confidence as the seconds slip by in deafening silence under the pulsing lights. 

A new wave of tears sting at your lash line, but you don't hide them. A part of your past self screams for you to listen and to believe in Wolffe’s words. “Liar,” you hiss. Hope cracks through your hard demeanor, and you desperately want him to prove you wrong.Your former self sobs, and it breaks past your snarl. “Why come back then?” you push further with a watery waver to your voice. “Just to revel in the consequences of your actions? To punish yourself for letting fear break your code of conduct that you so proudly follow on and off the battlefield?”

Wolf bows his head while flexing his hand across the scratched armor. Why is he doing this? Why did he run away from you in the first place? He can't remember a moment in his life where he was so overcome by a flood of emotions like that evening where he couldn't think rationally. Seeing you across the bar tonight as a shell of the person he loves, it felt as if his entire world had been blown to pieces. With a slow exhaled breath, Wolffe dares to look up at you. His stomach knots when he's met with the trails of tears that dance across the plains of your face. The wind is knocked out of his lungs in a sucker-punch when he pulls his gaze to look you in the eye and is met with a glimmer of his cy’are pulling through the broken mask. 

“Because I had hoped I would find you again”, he explains with a steady calmness despite the dizzying rush overcoming him. “For the past year, I laid awake in the dead of night wondering if I had done the right thing. It didn't matter what was happening around me - if I was in my cabin suffocated by silence or surrounded by the onslaught of blaster guns and bombs - I just needed to know that you would be safe and taken care of in a way that I couldn't promise you”. Wolffe pauses for a moment before cautiously reaching out to cup your jaw with his hand. A laugh of disbelief slips past his lips from how even through the thick, ballistic material of his glove he can still feel how soft your skin is beneath his touch. “The next time I saw you, I had hoped you would be tucked under the arm of some nat-born who’d be there for you each day and be able to come home to you every night without worry. In all the scenarios I came up with and constantly replayed in my mind, I never imagined we'd meet again here or like this. But that’s just who we are it seems”. Wolffe pauses to take you in with uncertainty in his eyes and tries to etch every detail of your face into his memory in case this is truly the last time he sees you. “Two very different people who are terrified of losing each other to the point where they push it out of mind until it rears its ugly head and makes us believe the irrational thoughts. So I’m telling you now - pushing you away that night is what keeps me up at night with guilt, and I promise to keep you safe, even from my own fear of losing you, if you’ll let me”.

Tears freely streamed down your cheeks and everything feels too much. Your skin prickles across the entirety of your body all except where Wolffe so carefully cups your jaw. As much as you want to shove him away and to scream at him and to leave him sitting here humiliated like he did with you one year ago - you can't. For the first time in such a long time, you feel things past the passize haze. “All I wanted to do is stand by your side and show you what it feels to experience a gentle love. Even when I was afraid that I wasn’t enough for you, I wanted to push that to the side to focus all my care and attention on us. Those insecurities felt so small in the grand scheme what you had to, and still have to, carry the burden of that I didn’t want to confide in you for the very reasons you used against me. I despise you for what you did to me”, you sob as you let yourself fall into his chest. The moment his arms catch you and envelops you with his body entirely, you let the mask fall completely. One hand clutches your hip and pulls you into Wolffe’s chest and the other rests on your shoulder as he supports you. Your head spins, and for as much as you should try to speak up and continue voicing how you'll need time to heal - you let yourself sink into the near forgotten feeling of comfort. The rods of tension that had cemented into your bones snap, and you press your face into Wolf's neck while wrapping your arms around him. His usual cologne still grounds you while shooting a dizzying sense of happiness through you. “I don't want to keep feeling like this, Wolffe. But I also don't want to let you back in if you're going to just shut me out. I can't do this again - I barely made it through this year. I can't survive another heartbreak so soul shattering. Especially from the same person who's now promised to keep me safe twice now”, you sob. 

Wolffe brings his hand up from your hip to rest at the nape of your neck. He gently sweeps his thumb back and forth as you try to reign in your uneven breathing. A dull throb hammers against your skull and grows at a rapid pace when a fresh wave of troopers cheer nearby and break through your private conversation. You wince, and Wolf glides both of his hands carefully to cover your ears. He moves one hand slightly to lean in close to your ear.

“There are not enough ways for me to express how sorry I am for not making the space for you in our relationship to feel like you could talk to me when you needed me, but I will show you in every possible way because an apology could never give you the justice you deserve for betraying you like that”, he quietly murmurs, “Let me walk you home as the first. I'll write my comlink connection for you, and when you're ready, you can give me a call to continue this conversation. Only if you want to speak to me again - we’ll do this on your terms. Just let me have the privilege to know you got home safely one last time”. 

Your fingertips press harder into his chest plate and trail down to where his blacks peek out between his body and leg armor - yearning to find contact with the man you adore and not the war that’s stolen everything from him. “I still have your com-connect”, you sheepishly admit. “I wasn't ready to say goodbye to you, either in the sense I would call you in a rage demanding … exactly this … or in hopes you would call saying it was a mistake … like this”. You feel the rumble of Wolffe’s chuckle where your chests press close together as the warm fan of breath that tickles the skin just underneath your ear. “I just want to go home, but I don't want to let you go though”. 

Wolf doesn't bother to stop the smile curling at the corner of his lips. He carefully leans into your embrace, and for once he's grateful for the armor separating the two of you as he’s sure that you would have been able to feel his heart crashing against his ribs to try and find its way back to yours. “You're still at the same complex, right?” he asks quietly. Barely catching your hum, Wolffe slowly nods and suggests: “If it's okay with you - and I mean that, only if it’s absolutely okay with you - I could stay in the guest room or on the couch. If it would help you rest easy knowing that I'm not going anywhere. And we can get breakfast to talk through things in the morning, because there's nothing that could keep me from you if you allow me the chance to prove myself to you”. 

You take a sharp inhale and pull yourself away only slightly to meet Wolffe’s soft yet determined gaze.”Promise?” you ask breathlessly.

 “I will live the rest of my life picking up the pieces of you that I broke, and I will stand by you as you learn to be yourself again. I promise, my sweet love, I'm not going anywhere without you”.

[marshmallowprotection]

You’re really good at analyzing the characters so what are some common mischaracterizations or head canons people in the fandom have about the characters that you don’t like?

Common? Well, there are a lot of things little things that I don't care for when I see them, but I know most people feel the same. Yoosung has a huge one. I hate when people make cousin jokes at his expense and I scroll and block when I see people make them at this point. It's not funny, and you don't understand Yoosung as a person. You don't understand his grief and frankly, that's insulting because that's a big part of his character arc.

People belittle him and make him feel like a kid when he's twenty-one years old and coming into his own. He's not a baby, sure, he going to learn a lot in the future because there's so much he hasn't gotten the chance to experience, but lack of experience doesn't mean that he's not capable of standing on his own. Yes, compared to the other RFA members, he hasn't done a lot, but that doesn't mean he's not super accomplished. He was a stellar student, he worked hard to get to the place he is, and the only reason he's floundering is due to the grief in his heart.

Grief plays a huge role in his story and if you want to understand him, you need to know his grief. Set aside the fact that Rika's still alive. He doesn't know that and in most routes, he never does. She was so very important to him because Yoosung was a lonely person even though he was a popular kid who didn't have trouble making friends. He was lonely and you can tell he's lonely if you look hard enough to see it in your own eyes.

Actually, if you want my headcanon about him, I think Yoosung was an oops baby. I think his sister was much older than he is and due to that fact, he was never super close to her. Sure, his family is the most normal in the entire game, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its own faults. His mother loves him, she does her best to take care of him, but it seems like his father is always rather busy at his job with the government. With a sister much older than him that he can't ever seem to relate to, and a mom who is trying her best but pushes him when he makes mistakes, and a father who isn't around all that much for him, it's got to be lonely.

Why else do you think he latched onto Rika when she came to speak to him? She saw him. She saw him and related to him. She was closer to his age and knew how to talk to him. It's no wonder Rika became a very important person in his life. She saw that he was lonely and that he needed others to root for him, and that's why she convinced him to stick around and join the RFA. Rika did care for Yoosung, she really wanted him him to do well in life back then, and pulling him into the RFA was the best thing Rika did for him because it gave him a place to have others to turn to for advice.

The RFA is a found family no matter what, and even though the RFA playfully bullies Yoosung sometimes, they're some of the only people who know the facets of who Yoosung is.

Zen isn't a narcissist and even if he was one, that's not a bad thing. However, I will say it's not a good look when folks shout that word and villainize personality disorders. Please, I implore people to do more research and be more mindful about how they speak about personality disorders, not just with narcissistic personality disorder, but BPD, OCD, etc.

He is overcompensating. When he is spouting compliments toward himself, it's because he's trying to convince himself that those words have power. Words do have power, let me tell you, and if you call yourself trash all the time, you are inevitably going to believe you are trash. 

I'm not saying you have to do what he's doing to build up your confidence, but I'm going to say that what he's doing can be quite helpful for people. You'll make a lot of progress if you're not trying to beat yourself down. The world isn't going to hold back its punches, so why in the world would you beat yourself down just to help the things that want to see you crumble? I know it's easier said than done, but it's good to be in the habit of not insulting yourself.

You don't have to compliment yourself, but don't call yourself trash. 

You know another thing about him that gets to me? It’s something he shares with Jumin that doesn’t get the conversation it needs. Both of them have more in common than they realize. They're both victims of sexual harassment, and one of the reasons why I love Zen Route has to do with the fact that they get to have a healthy conversation about their insecurities and what they've both experienced.

Jumin downplays his copious trauma all the time, but speaking with Zen is a way to front those demons with someone who won't mince words for his sake but will also be understanding and considerate at the same time. Jumin thinks he isn't allowed to complain to expend on his trauma because he's a man in a place of privilege. He thinks it isn't important in the grand scheme of things. He thinks he got lucky and others deserve far more sympathy than he does because they've not had as much fortune as he has.

Zen calls him on his shit for it. That's why I love when Zen and Jumin can truly begin to understand each other underneath their banter of "Zen hates Jumin because Jumin reminds him of his older brother in the worst way imaginable" and "Jumin lets Zen poke at him because it's fun to have debates and discussions with others and Zen doesn't hold back" and "Zen gets rightfully angry about how rich people can flaunt their wealth" and "Jumin doesn't even hate Zen, he just leans into what Zen expects because it's what Zen "wants.""

Zen and Jumin have a lot in common. Sure, some people understand that, but I think some of the little details get missed. It took me a long time to understand Jumin because he peeved me at first, but once I got to see who he is as a person, I realized that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, and that's a lesson we all know, but it's good to get it reinforced. You learn that in Zen's Route, and you can't shake it off when you get Jumin's Route when needs the same theory applied to it.

I just don't like it when put don't put weight on Jumin's trauma and entirely miss it when it's blatant.

Don't get me started on the bad ending. I don't like talking about his bad ending because people like to romanticize that relationship and call it canon. That's the problem for me. I also love indulging in Bad Endings myself, but I do not call them the good ending. My problem with Jumin’s BE is that there are people who claim the Bad Ending is healthy and fight to say that it’s a “better ending.”

Listen, my friend, if you want an ending with a relationship that has BDSM, you can have that. You can have that in the Good Ending. You do not have to get a Bad Ending to get it, you can write and imagine it in the Good Ending, and you can have the characters communicate consent and boundaries. You can imagine that and have it that way! I can't believe I have to say that! It is 100% okay to consume content for the Bad Ending and to create it.

But for the love of God, stop calling it a Good Ending and stop acting like it's healthy. Cheritz made a DLC for it because they knew people would pay for that. That's literally the only reason why that got made and I hate it. I hate that his trauma about his damn mother is hidden in a ending that emotionally destroys that man and you would never know anything about it unless you decided to play it. His mother is a piece of shit, by the way, but I'm sure most people know that by now.

All I want is for people to call the ending what it is and to tag it appropriately so I can avoid it. I don't want to consume anything for it and that's my choice. I'm not saying you can't enjoy it, please enjoy it if you want to enjoy it, but call it for what it is because I call all of the Bad Endings I consume Bad Endings for a reason.

I hate it when people say that Jaehee is bland. I hate it when people say that Jaehee is overbearing about Zen and then they bash her into the ground because she "gets in the way" of Zen/MC. I hate when I'm forced to see someone claim that Jaehee's route isn't romantic. Y'all do realize that Jaehee's route has the most realistic route, right? She isn't yet aware of her sexuality or her feelings toward other woman. It doesn't occur to her at first that her feelings for MC are romantic and it takes time for her to fall in love. She's not rushing this experience... she's indulging in it.

She wants to be your partner, your best friend, your closest person in the world first, and as you get closer, that's when you fall in love. She needs time to sort out her feelings, that's the kind of person she is. It takes her time to process her feelings. She's spent her entire life in a place where she's had to fight to earn her keep and look after herself. She went after a career field that would take care of her, and while it's great that she's good at being an assistant to Jumin, it's empty.

It doesn't make her happy. It gives her enough money to pay for all kinds of tickets to see Zen perform, sure, but it doesn't make her feel good about life. Jaehee's route is about someone who feels like they are trapped in a job that's killing them slowly because they don't think they can dream and try something risky because that risk might just be the thing that makes them happy and fulfilled.

I understand that people get frustrated when Zen gets to have hard conversations with Jaehee. I know that a lot of people would rather see the MC complete those visuals with Zen or do it themselves, but I think it’s important to understand why Zen is the one who talks to Jaehee about dreams and passion. Zen ran away from home to chase after his dream knowing it may not happen. It took him a while to get to the point he's at today, and not that many people are lucky when they chase after their dreams. He took a huge risk, which is very scary when you could take the easier path next to it, and to him, it was the risk worth taking.

Jaehee's afraid to take risks.

Having Zen, her idol, tell her to follow her passion, made a difference. On top of that, Saeyoung helped her, too. He could see that she was miserable and he offered to do that report for her so she wouldn't have to torture herself when she finally found something that put light in her eyes. Saeyoung, Zen, and MC are the real MVPs of that route.

While those two are doing their best, you’re doing the same work in the background. You are her confidant, the person who hears her, and the one who is there at the end of the day when all is said and done and she needs somebody to listen. 

That's how she starts to fall in love with you, and it's something she'll realize a little bit later after you two are working together to achieve a dream, and I think it's important to understand that. Your relationship builds from being friends to falling in love.

Yes, I understand there are jokes about them just being friends and this route being the platonic one, but I don't think people understand Mystic Messenger took a huge leap in 2016 by having a romanceable queer female route in the game. Progress is progress, and it's damn important to be happy when we have these milestones. I've seen so many other games come out after this leap was made and it's getting better with every new game that comes out that has male and female options. 

I know it can feel like such a minor thing after the fact, but little jumps are what make progress happen. Whether it's the wedding in Steven Universe that was fought by tooth and nail in 2018, or with Korrasami going canon in 2014, progress comes when we fight for it. Jaehee's route is one of those moments.

Pushing Cheritz for more gave us more romantic content in the game as well.

The Valentine’s DLC for Jaehee is much more blatant and even the Christmas DLC has its moment. Better yet, the birthday images over the years have become much more forthcoming in the fact that Jaehee and MC are in a relationship. You can be proud of the little things, and you can be proud of progress, because if you don't take a moment to appreciate the little things, it feels like the world is bleak and that's no way to live. 

I hate it when people misunderstand Saeyoung but that's something that's been fought over a lot over years so I don't think I need to say a lot about that. He is a multifaceted character and people limit him to being a silly guy. We all know where people go wrong with that at the end of the day and it's so much easier just to keep scrolling than it is to deal with someone who only wants to make him a joke. He isn't the butt of a joke. He's Saeyoung Choi.

However, I will say that I don't appreciate it when people don’t give him the same compassion as Saeran when it comes to his trauma. What I mean by that is I don’t see people talk about what Saeyoung suffered through because of Mother Choi—I don’t see a lot of talk about how Saeyoung was parentified and had to fight tooth and nail to take care of Saeran to the point where his identity became one in which his only reason for living was to take care of Saeran. People scratch the surface of this, but they don't get into the thick of it.

I don't see people talk about his feelings about his mother and how his parentification haunts him to this day. 

When people write (Secret Ending) Saeran to be an asshole. I have a lot of squicks about him fandom wise.

I have never enjoyed people writing him out to be cruel and vindictive but that is something people have done in the past, but fortunately enough, I haven't seen many people do it in the last year or so but it was a problem back in the day and it still irks me when I think about it. I get it, a lot of what we know about him has to be built on what we think as the player since there isn't information about him after his breakdown with his brother.

As fans, we had to build his personality ourselves and figure out his perspective. I don't think there's a right or wrong way to make some content for him, but I do hate it when people go out of their way to make him cruel. 

One of the reasons I wanted to start writing him in the first place was because every time I tried to read content for him, he would be such an asshole to Saeyoung. I get it. I know why people assume he would be that way, but he is baked in apathy and numbness. He does not have the energy to fight and made that abundantly clear in the end that he doesn’t have the strength to fight Saeyoung anymore. That's the main reason why he just stopped trying to... you know, get rid of himself.

His brother was never going to let him die. He accepted that he can't leave this world even if he wants to, so he's trying to make the best of what he has. He has the sky and he has ice cream, and that's pretty much all he has. 

He is sullen. He may not always be forthcoming or kind people, but he doesn't have the energy to be destructive anymore. It would take a lot to upset him. You would need to push every button in the book to get him to lash out. What's the point in lashing out at everyone when it doesn't solve anything? That's not to say he doesn't have moments where he can't see anything but the past and he lashes out because he's terrified, but that's different than actively choosing to be cruel to other people.

I don't think he has many people around him other than Saeyoung and MC. He doesn't know how to interact with other people and he doesn't particularly want to start at this point because he feels like it's too late. I also don't agree with the people who imply that he would be friends with the RFA. That is where I differ with a lot of people and I'm okay with that because that's just the way I imagine things to be and I don't try to force my opinion on others. 

It's nothing against the members of the RFA. I just don’t think he would want to be friends with them. Jumin and Yoosung especially. They were closest to Jihyun and Rika. It's not their fault they had that closeness with them, but because of that closeness, Saeran wouldn’t want to go near there.

Saeran killed Jihyun. We could argue up and down all day long if that was something he wanted to do when he raised that gun to defend himself thinking his brother was dead. But, he did do that even in the wrong state of mind and that's something he has to carry for the rest of his life. Jihyun was Jumin’s best friend. Saeran won't be able to look that man in the eye even if Jumin could look past it knowing the complexities of the situation.

Yoosung held Rika close after the events of the Secret Ending and shipped her off with Zen, don't get me started on how much I hate that because I write it out of anything I write with the Secret Ending. That never happens in my Secret Ending. Rika goes to jail to face the consequences of her crimes and gets some well-needed therapy for her own trauma that's been left to the wayside.

He wouldn't want to be around Zen or Jaehee, either. He stalked them for years. He put them through hell depending on the ending you're playing. He doesn't want to be around them and he doesn't want their "pity" friendship. Saeran knows they would be nice to him for Saeyoung's sake, and he doesn't want that. I get it, I love it when Saeran is friends with the RFA, but that isn't happening in the Secret Ending, I'm sorry. Your MC can be friends with them, but... I just can't say Saeran will.

It was actually a dream of mine to write a SE Saeran/Reader fic that had the characterization I wanted for years and I finally a few years ago because I said, "What the hell, people will read it if they want." If you want to see my take on SE Saeran, please, read my fic Iris, It will keep you busy for a while, it's 170k.

I've never been huge on Yooran in the context of SE Saeran/Yoosung because most of the basis is built around the Bad Ending and when I see content for them, I'm always wary of it because I know there's a subtle chance that the writer might make Saeran become an ass to everyone around him and treat Yoosung in ways I'm not going to even think about. You can write whatever you want, just tag it properly if it is an unhealthy dynamic, and back in the earlier days, there weren't a lot of warning tags so it really soured it for me given how I already felt about SE Saeran.

I do think the ship can be great when it is founded in Another Story, though. Yoosung admires Saeran and even admits to having a crush on him, and in this ending, hey, if you want to imagine Yoosung/MC/Saeran or Saeran/Yoosung post-Another Story? I would love to see it. Because, God, Yoosung treating VAE Ray and Saeran tenderly during fireworks because they're terrified of loud noises? Or, even better, I'm giddy at the thought of Yoosung and GE Saeran baking together in a French kitchen!

I have thoughts and feelings about Rika and V as well, but those don’t land most of the time for me because I have to consistently hammer home that I don’t condone what either of them did every time. Just because I try to understand their past and motivations doesn't mean I condone their bullshit. Motivation, Traumatic Backstory =/= excuses. There is no excuse for their actions and they need to face judgement for it. Hard to have a conversation about them because some people think I'm condoning or erasing their actions by trying to understand more about them as person.

So, I don't get too heavy into those two, but I will say that a lot of people don't understand Rika and V because they don't want to. I can't fault them for that, either.

I understand why most people would not want to touch them with a ten-foot pole. You are not being forced to learn more about them, why they are the way they are, or what brought them to the point in which they made their choices. If you never want to learn anything more about them, I can't blame you for that. But, if you want to talk about them in a larger capacity beyond "I hate them and I want them to go to face justice for this and that" (very valid take, by the way), it's important to understand their motivations, if nothing else. 

I think they are interesting characters and I want to understand more about them because looking at Jihyun is an uncomfortable mirror for me at times. It's helped me be a better person.