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carmenized-onions · 4 months ago

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Two Steps Back. | Advanced Payment

logline; it's time to retrace your steps. both of you.

[!!!] series history, this is the thirteenth; nothing distresses me more than when i see people read this out of order PLEASE BABY PLEASE

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. constant headache was actually in season 3? my brain. my power.

Or, maybe you'd like a playlist made especially for this chapter? Consider this my Fishes special.

portion; 17k new record again, please god tell me it gets shorter from here on i'm so. tired..

possible allergies; you will know exactly what trigger warnings you need upon reading seeing the first line. Also! I watched Season 3, and injected some lines from it into this, including the finale. I don't consider it full spoilers, because it's an entirely new context, but you might wanna catch up before you read this one!

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader so excessively gendered, in this chapter. my bad.

it's my birthday so if you typically lurk legally you have to tell me your thoughts on this one! Also it's once again the new longest, so like. cmon.

“What are you, Amish?”

You blink, craning your head back to look up at this annoying giant. You’re too tired for this shit. This is your one day off this week and you’re spending it fixing faulty lights with your dad, at some shit diner. Why did you agree to start coming on jobs? Why’s this guy gotta bother you on your lunch break? What’s wrong with you not wanting to smoke? Pardon you for not wanting to kill yourself with tobacco—

“Ah, no, I’m just uhm—” You gesture your hand to your head. “I get migraines, kinda easy, so I can’t, uh— Can’t indulge.”

He nods, he opts to stand next to you, while you’re sitting on the curb. At least the smoke will blow over your head, this way. You try to eat your lunch in peace. He does not let you have this moment of peace.

“Jack, right?” He nudges your foot with his. “That’s what your pop’s calls you, at least?”

“Yeah. Everyone calls me Jack.” You nod. Guess this is a conversation now, whether you want it or not. “You’re Mikey? The owner?”

“The Original Chicago Beef, in the flesh.” He nods, and he says it like he’s proud but he doesn’t look it. He leers at your partially consumed tin foil wrapped sandwich. “You bring your own lunch?”

You shrug. “Uh, yeah, grilled cheese with pork—”

“Why would you—” The door to the kitchen swings open, as Mikey grimaces. You both turn your heads to see another guy come out— Oh it’s that one, the one that cannot stop talking about his divorce— Mikey consults him. “Yo, Rich, do I look like some jamoke, to you? Just wonderin’.”

Rich, tilts his head, and his legs follow after him, “No, cousin, whatssup?” He takes the cigarette from Mikey, when it’s offered up.

“Well, our little fixer friend here—” Mikey nudges you, again. “—seems to think me a fuckin’ ass.”

Now when did you say anything like that? “Wha—”

“Stop making lunches, I’ve been watching you come in here with your little lunch pail the past few jobs, you eat free ‘ere, aright? You’re workin’.” Doesn’t matter what you said. Mikey sees you. Mikey’s always seen you.

‘workin’’ is a bit generous. The most you do is hand your dad tools, hold a flashlight, and ask too many questions. You definitely could do more, but he knows you're too tired. He really just wants to spend time with you. You pretend to not know his ulterior motives.

“We’re gentlemen here, sweetheart.” Rich bends down, so you can see him past Mikey’s frame, at your level. He reaches a hand out for you to shake. “Richie. Jerimovich.”

You’re not gonna remember that. You take his hand and shake it. “Jack. It’s— I’m just Jack.”

You’ve only got one hand on your sandwich, to shake Richie’s hand. So, like a school bully, Michael takes your loosened grip as his opportunity to grab it from you. “Yoink—!”

You whine, “C’mon—” “Let me make you a real fuckin’ sandwich, sweetheart—” “I’d just like my sandwich, alright?” “Oh, it’ll be your sandwich, alright? You think I don’t make good sandwiches? Richie, she doesn’t think I make good sandwiches.”

“Fuckin’ insane, cousin.”

You attempt to defend yourself from the peanut gallery of one guy. “Not what I said!”

“Why do you keep bringing lunch, then?”

Because it’s easy? Because it’s orderly? Because you’ve been in a full state of autopilot for the last threeish years and every day you’ve eaten the same breakfast and made the same lunch and then you go on your shift and then someone nearly dies and sobs in your arms and then you sit on the edge of the ambulance and you eat your grilled cheese and pork? Because if you break the routine it’s all gonna hit?

“I just like making my own lunch.”

“Well, stop. You’re breaking my heart.” Michael takes a bite of your sandwich. You click your teeth. Germs. You’re going to chastise him, but he doesn’t let you. “You like pork more than beef?”

“I think beef is fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

You take too long to respond, meaning the lie won’t be believable, so you have to tell the truth. You have to tell The Original Chicago Beef that— “I… I like pork more.”

“How dare you—” Barks Richie, the guard dog, apparently. Mikey stops him, putting a hand up.

“No, no, I asked the lady a question. She’s wrong but I asked. Fair’s fair. We express our fury like gentlemen, Cousin.” He nods, to himself. Thinking. About what is beyond you. God, so much for a lunch break. You point to your sandwich in his hand.

“Can I have that back—” “No. I’m makin’ you a goddamn real sandwich.”

You all but growl, really. You start to stand up. God, this guy is pushy. “I just said, I prefer—”

Mikey’s already making his way back into the kitchen, with the last half of your lunch as hostage. “Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ pork sandwich, aright?”

Mikey’s guard dog stamps out the butt of the shared cigarette, walking backwards into the kitchen, following Mikey but watching you. “He’s gonna make you fuckin’ pork, aright?”

“Aright!” Is all you can yell back, at your wits with the two dumbest most stubborn middle-aged geezers you’ve ever met.

Richie holds the door open for you, so you don’t get locked out. Alright, maybe he is a gentleman. You hear Mikey’s voice ring, from inside the kitchen. “And if you’re not doin’ nothin’ for your dad, try to fix the fuckin’ coffee machine, would you?”

This fucking guy.

You have waved at him a couple times, here and there, while helping out your dad. But now, you’ve officially had Michael Bear Berzatto in your life for a solid ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it.

Carmen Anthony Bear Berzatto has officially not had you in his life for ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like you’ve been gone for years. But you’re probably still just outside, talking to Richie and Syd. How is it still Friday? What time is it? Almost six? They’ve still got four fucking hours of service to go? No, that’s a good thing. This is a good thing. Doesn’t give him time to think. Everyone needs to stop staring at him.

What a fucking monster. What did he even say? He can’t remember anymore. He remembered ten minutes ago, and now it’s gone. Completely walled off in his memory. What did he say? Why did you make that face? What did he say to Richie, again? Why did you step in front of him? What did you say, again? What did Richie say? What happened? He can’t remember. He knows he did something fucked up but Carmen cannot remember what happened twenty minutes ago. That’s bad, right?

“I need hands!” Carmen does not recognize the fact that he’s working until he hears his own voice.

Right. He’s on expo. He’s doing expo. That’s what was happening twenty minutes ago, he thinks. That’s what was happening, right? Doesn’t matter. This is what he’s doing now. Fak comes back in and takes the tray to run. He looks around for a moment, confused.

“Where’s Tony?”

“She’s gone.”

Fak pauses. You don’t leave, that doesn’t match up in his brain. It doesn’t really match up in Carmen’s either, but this is what’s happening now. “What’d’you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she’s fucking gone, Fak.” Carmen barks back, practically. Such a fucking monster. Could Fak tell him what he said? Doesn’t matter. Carmen nods to the plate. “Table twenty-five, go.”

“...Where’d she go—” “Fucking go, Fak!”

There is a loud, thrumming buzz. The type that goes off after a game. Or maybe after a wrong answer. Expo clock. Since when did it have a sound setting? The kitchen flinches, including Carmen, including a meek-made Neil, and look to the clock behind them.

Time has stopped. 0ERR is all it displays now. The sign ‘EVERY SECOND COUNTS’ is real ironic, now. What the fuck happened? You would know. You’re still outside, Carmen could get you. Carmen could get you and say he’s sorry for whatever happened. The back of his head feels like it’s hemorrhaging. He needs to go to a doctor. Maybe a paramedic. Carmen could get you, ask you what he said, and also ask if he is actively dying, right now.

“Fak.”

“Carm?”

“Table twenty-five.” Carmen points at the plate again, with his sharpie. Then points behind him, to the broken clock. “Then fix that.”

“Why not call To—” “Do you want a fucking job here or not?” “I—I do—” “Then do your fucking job, Fak.”

Carmen doesn’t need you. The Bear doesn’t need you. They can function just fine. Everything’s fine, without you. Everything’s normal. Everything is the way that it should be. He is shaking so much— When did he eat? Has he eaten? What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened twenty minutes ago? Or was it twenty-five? No. That’s table twenty-five, he’s mixing up his numbers. What time is it? He doesn’t know. The whole kitchen doesn’t know what time it is, anymore. You are gone and so are the minutes.

Fak leaves, with the plate. Shrunken. Following orders. Carmen just turns everyone into himself, doesn’t he? What a fucking monster. He knows how bad it is to be him, and yet he still does it. Look at the orders, Carmen. Run fucking expo. So fucking slow, Carmen. Look at the orders.

The crumpled piece of paper you handed him twenty minutes— Thirty? Fuck. The fucking note you handed him some amount of time ago. It sits on his table, next to all the actual orders. He rereads it, instead of the five cavatellis he’s supposed to be yelling about, right now.

Walk-In Hotfix, $80

Plumbing Repair (Service + 4 Hours), $250

Oven Wiring Fix (House call), $70

Oven Hotfix + Replacement Thermocouple, $120

Non-Gratis: Pinot Grigio, -$20

Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. -$2,500

You forgot the booths. And taxes. And you should probably get paid a half day, for serving for the past half hour. You also forgot all the times he called you, texted you, came over, the bookshelf you brought him, the basil, the rosemary water, cleaning up his trash, every time you tried food for him, every time you told him everything was going to be okay, every time you made everyone breath in here like it was going to be okay— You forgot everything you do. Priceless. Easily, you are owed millions, from Carmen.

He flips over the note. He reads Sweeps’ quick scribings from David, the fucking asshole out front, the fucking asshole in his head.

Cherry + Lamb, good flavour. A lot of elements. Fresh, Unique. Overall good? Ig? Weird tone.

Said he’d like to speak to ‘Wine Girl’ (ick), mentioned Michelin connect? Number = Connect? (Ick)

You didn’t eat the cherry and lamb dish. That just connected, in his head. You didn’t get to eat it. Not only did you not get to eat it, the motherfucker outside did. Fuck. You were trying to be nice, but you’ve fucked him. Unique is practically a slur to his Exec. Carmen has fun when he makes things for you— He plays— That’s not what his Exec wants. He wants two elements, max. The fact that David actually liked the flavour is nothing short of a fucking miracle. Carmen could throw up. He’s definitely getting an ulcer, again. Where’s your Tums? Fuck, you took it with you, didn’t you?

It’s embarrassing how many rules he forgets to implement, when he cooks for you. Boundless, unrestricted— When he cooks for you. Doesn't cut a single concept. It’s mortifying that someone other than you ate it, let alone David fucking Fields.

Carmen’s eyes feather, almost closing, but not completely. He scratches his fingers through his hair, destroying the cast of gel it’s been stuck in. His curls are desperately trying and failing to reform. It doesn’t matter how much he runs his hands through it, he cannot get it to smell like you again. He cannot find you in himself, he cannot find you in his kitchen. That’s what annoyed him, earlier, wasn’t it? That you were everywhere? That you were carved in, everywhere? He thought he didn’t want that?

His knees bounce where he stands, he bumps into his jacket under the table. Right. You left it. Are you cold? Turtleneck was thin. You looked so good. You always look good. Better, in his clothes, but you always look good. Did he remember to tell you that? Probably not.

“Where—” Fuck, he really is going to throw up. “Where we at on Booth Twelve’s dessert tray, Chef?”

You said it was okay for Carmen to give your number out. You gave your dish out. You shelled yourself out, for Carmen. It feels like a cave is being hollowed out, in his throat. He is so angry and he doesn’t know who it’s for. He doesn’t know where to put it. Is that what happened twenty-three— twenty-four minutes ago? Did he give it to you? No, he gave it to Richie, right? That’s how it started. Marcus hands off the dessert paddle to expo, silently. No one wants to talk to Carmen. That’s probably fair. What did he say? Probably bad. It’s already huge they haven’t walked out on him, yet. Has anyone walked out, yet?

Marcus is here, Syd is still out back— Well, actually, she might’ve left with you, she should if she can. Are you still out there? Tina wipes her eyes, working at the oven you fixed thirty— No, forty— Fuck— Earlier. It’s probably the onions from the broth making her tear up. No, it definitely is. Fak is out front, Sweeps is out front, Richie is still out back.

What did he say to Richie? Something about kids? There are no servers to hand off dessert to stupid fucking booth twelve. Carmen cannot keep looking at the family he’s ruined, in whatever way he managed to ruin it. He grabs the dessert tray. He’ll deliver it himself. He can do it all himself. He’s good by himself.

You’ve been out of Carmen’s life for 0ERR minutes. Yeah. That’s exactly how long it feels like.

“Try it try it try it.” You mumble, hurriedly, excitedly, to Marcus. The bread guy. He’s the nicest of the bunch, so far. You hand him the mug. He takes a sip of the coffee you’ve been perfecting for the last six jobs here, give or take. You’ve been in The Beef’s life for two months or so.

“Holy shit.” He nods, digesting it— Actually digesting it, which means— “It’s edible.”

“I know!” You all but shout, too excited to hide it. You’ve finally figured out how to make this thing produce what it’s supposed to— Instead of what is essentially arsenic with coffee flavouring.

Your excitement makes a line cook behind you grimace. The one you’ve still got yet to win over. “My ears, kid.”

“Sorry.” You reply lightly. Your back is turned to her, so she can’t see you cringe to Marcus, crying for help, practically. He’s sympathetic. He kept saying you just need to prove yourself, but it’s been taking forever, what else can you prove?

He decides to fast track you. “Yo, T.” She nods. She respects Marcus. But you’re just some girl that’s been in her walkway for the past seven weeks. “Try it.” He hands her your edible coffee.

She rolls her eyes, already nonplussed, but she takes the coffee. She is genuinely impressed, for a split second, before it turns into a coy sarcasm. “Wow— You’ve made not poison, great job, baby.”

“I’m gonna get better.” You respond instantly. That’s something you noticed Tina likes. Quickness. “I’m gonna make you a good coffee.” Determination, too.

“Bold.”

“Thank you—”

“No.” She pushes the coffee to your chest; you grab it before it spills. “I like it bold.”

God, she’s so scary. “Heard.” She’s so cool.

She watches you, for a second; wants to see if you crack. You don’t, thankfully. She folds. She finally kinda likes you— Or rather, is willing to admit it, in some small way. “You can come tonight.”

You can come to family, tonight. It takes everything in you not to cheer. You should mix them drinks. Or is that too try hard? No, it’s the perfect amount of try— Right? It was your old party trick in college, you should use it. Prove yourself.

“Cool.” Is all you can say, without seeming like a desperate nerd.

You've been slowly cutting away at every relationship in your life, par for your family— And even that hangs by a thread— And you thought you were fine with that. You thought you were good like that, but once you got used to The Weirdos of The Beef, you cannot help but desperately want friends, again.

Every moment you get outside of your twelve to twenty-four hour EMS shifts, you spend it here. You’re tired, but it might actually be worth it; to talk to people instead of rotting in your apartment for half a week every week.

What month is it? March? When's Squid's birthday again? Did you miss it? It's the one time a year you get to talk without the underlying pressure that you have to hang out now.

Happy Birthday, what have you been up to? Oh, same thing as last year? You're irrevocably a different person now but you're also still the same? Nothing much? Same here. We should see each other soon. We won't. I won't say I love you because I don't want to be weird. Even though we used to say it every day. I will never know you like I used to, and so I won't even try. Same time next year?

Working in The Beef reminds you of her. Reminds you of the other stubborn cook in your life. Was in your life? Don’t think about that. Sometimes you hear her dad's voice out front, buying himself a half-hot half-sweet braised beef sandwich. Sometimes you think about going out there and saying hi. Sometimes you think about asking about Syd. Sometimes you think about asking how the catering gig is going. Sometimes you think about asking if she needs you anymore.

You never do.

“Aye.” Mikey claps your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. You didn't even realize he was behind you. He digs his hands in, a sudden and always painful massage. His preferred way of saying stop fucking tweaking. He leans over your shoulder, looking at the coffee cup that doesn't look as pitiful as it usually does. “Good job, kid.”

“Thank you—” “Now figure out how to make it worth drinking.”

You scoff, rolling your shoulders to push him off you. “I'm fuckin’ trying!”

His hands stay in place, but his massage does become gentle, and actually decent. Per usual. You’re not sure how he always manages to get the knots. “T say you can come to family?”

You had to get all yeses that you are now in fact family to join for family. You look over your shoulder to face him. “Mhm.”

“Good.” He looks around. “Your dad here?”

You nod. “In the basement, something about your furnace? It's fucking beyond my skill set, so I'm up here until he needs me.” As much as your dad started doing this to hang out with you, heads got too hot with you fucking up which tools to hand him one too many times; repeatedly yelling same team in a more and more distressed tone did not seem to be helping either. Whatever. Gave you more time with the coffee machine. You’re going to make this thing your bitch, one day. One day this thing is going to sing for you.

“Oh, good.” And with that, he's already pulling you to his station. “You can help me with family brisket, then.”

“Nooooo—” “If you want family you gotta be family, Jack.”

You whine, but you don't mind this at all. Mikey sees you. Mikey knows you; probably better than he should. He knows you always need something to do.

“Pork?” “Pork.” “Fine.” It's your recipe, so you must oblige.

He's good. Mikey is good. Mikey pays attention. Mikey's made the cycle break in a way that doesn't hurt.

Carmen needs to apologize to Richie, for never taking his stress over running front of house seriously.

Carmen hates being out front already and he’s only just stepped out. Why is everyone looking at him out here, too? He should also apologize for whatever he said forty minutes ago. Thirty-five? Doesn’t matter. What’s important is handing this dessert tray to the fucking jagoff. The man who Carmen dreamed of becoming, the man who he’s now scared he’s become. David Fields. Former Executive Chef. Too many accolades to list.

“Dessert is served, hope you enjoy, Chef.” Carmen manages to bite his tongue for this guy, so why can’t he do it for the people he actually gives a fuck about? He’s a fucking coward. He swallows, setting the dessert paddle down in front of the stupid five fucking guests. Far too big a party, for a fucking walk in. And all they got for dessert was the fucking tasting paddle? Why are they skimping now? Assholes. All of them. Carmen knows all of these people. Well. Knows their faces. Remembers working with them, but never really talked to any of them. Why would he? He was focused. He was good.

“Thank you, Chef.” Says David. It feels like lightning, to hear those words. But not in a good way. It should feel like an accomplishment, to hear this guy say anything remotely positive, to Carmen, but it doesn’t. It feels the opposite, honestly. Feels like something’s wrong. Getting this guy’s approval is wrong.

This is the part where Carmen is supposed to leave. This is the part where the server goes back to the kitchen and continues their job. But he can’t. He’s stuck in place. He’s back in front of the fire, and he’s not putting it out. Carmen swallows hard and his spit feels like glass all the way down his throat. His Exec stares at him, nearly coy— Like he knows. Like he can see the invisible snake coiling around Carmen. Like he knows that Carmen desperately has something to say.

“Let’s have it, Chef.” David goads.

Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck it. Not like the night can get worse. “Can we step out, for a second, Chef?”

“Lookit this.” Mikey pivots his phone to you, for you to see a photo he's just been sent.

It's of… “What the fuck is that?” You've got no clue. Some weird spiralling array of colours.

“I've no fucking clue. Food? Apparently?”

It's April, and Mikey has let you in. You will not realize how big a deal this is until it's too late. But right now, you're just happy to be hanging out with him before open. Without your dad, too.

Their most frequent regular’s favourite chair broke, one of the legs just fully gave out underneath him. It's an easy fix. Mikey could probably do it himself. Fak or whatever the fuck his name is could absolutely do it himself. Mikey called you, instead. Called you. Not your dad. You think this'll be your first and last solo job. Naive.

“Carmy?” You assume, he's the only person that's on that rich people shit. Michelin Star Chef, baby boy with big dreams.

“Yessir. He’s still killin’ it.” Is all Mikey says, tucking his phone away. You frown at him, screwing the chair leg in, sitting on the floor. He groans. “Don't gimme those eyes, Jack.”

“You should reply!”

“He doesn't need a fuckin' reply.”

You tilt your head, the look you give him translates to ‘Are you forreal?’

He just sighs, exasperated. “You don't get brothers, Jack.”

“I literally have brothers, Michael.”

“Yeah but it's—” He gestures to the general air, attempting to explain nothing. “It's different. We communicate different.”

“Sure.” You can admit that. “I'm sure the dynamic is very different brother to brother, brother to sister. But like—” You jiggle the chair leg, alright maybe it's not that easy of a fix. “It sucks bein’ the baby, I know that much.”

“You're the baby?”

“Yeah, why?” You lift your head from the chair back to him. “I got middle child energy? I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

“No, no— Oldest.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Thought you were one of me, Jack. My own blood.”

You scoff. But it’s not something you haven’t heard before. You’ve got the blood of people who’ve had to take care of people. “Well, being the only sister kinda made me the oldest sister.”

You pad your hand around the floor, searching, before looking up to Michael, again. “You see the fuckin—?”

He tosses you the chair leg cap, before you can finish asking for it. “You’d like Nat. Similar ideologies.”

“I would love to know how your younger sister fuckin’ survived you, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, at that. “She’s a trooper. Surrounded by some of the worst men Chicago has to offer.” He looks at the coffee that you painstakingly crafted for him, this morning. “This is actually kinda fuckin’ good, Jack.”

“Do you have to add actually and kinda?”

He rolls his head back, neck straining. “For what you had, it’s fuckin’ perfection, alright? Happy?”

“Fuckin’ delighted.” You throw the chair up onto its legs, and it stands. “You?”

He gets up from his seat to try out the chair. He takes the coffee with him. There’s a split second where you’re scared that actually this was too hard a job for you and Mikey is going to fall and the hot coffee is going to careen everywhere and fucking scald him and you told him he needed to get a first-aid kit in here but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet—

Mikey sits, and the chair works. He takes another sip of your chai coffee blend, like a vote of his confidence. He never had any doubt you could get the coffee machine to work, never had any doubt you could make a good coffee, never had any doubt you could get the chair to stand strong. Mikey has always always believed in your capabilities, even when you haven’t, and has always been happy to prove yourself to yourself. Mikey is really good at being an older brother, you think. And forget that he never texted back the real baby of his real family.

“Fuckin’ delighted, Jackie.”

“Never fuckin’ call me Jackie.”

“Heard.”

Two executive chefs stand in front of a restaurant, there’s probably a joke in here somewhere. Carmen doesn’t care to find it. He watches your car drive out onto the road, out of the corner of his eye. That’s it, then. You’re gone. He fishes a pack of cigarettes out from the chest pocket of his chef’s uniform.

“You should quit.” Says David, so high and fucking mighty. As if he doesn’t house a bottle of wine daily.

“I’m aware.” Carmen lights it anyways. You don’t smoke. Did his mouth taste bad, every time he’d kiss you? Probably. You probably just bore it for his sake. Maybe that’s why you so rarely went for his lips. He takes a puff, it doesn’t calm him down.

“Your hair is fucked.”

“And the food?”

“Busy. You can lose the basil and eggplant. You’ll re-learn.” David tilts his head, thinking, smarmy. “Someone got in your head.”

“Someone other than you, yeah.”

“Awe.” David smiles, something he so rarely did in the kitchen, but perfected in public. His tone is so perfectly pouty, like it’s disappointing he’s not the only one living rent free in Carmen’s brain anymore.

Carmen steadies his eyes forward, to the street. He cannot look his own personal nightmare in the eyes, but he can say what he’s always wanted to say. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

“How am I an asshole?” “Can you stay ‘til after close?” “You’re welcome.”

Carmen turns his head to face him now, eyes wide like plates. “I— I’m welcome? For—For-for what?”

“You were an okay chef, when you started with me.” David doesn’t fear eye contact. David’s probably never had a bad day in his fucking life. “And you left an excellent chef, so you’re welcome.”

Carmen’s never even heard the fucking word excellent come out of this man’s mouth. Let alone to describe him. It doesn’t feel good, for some reason. It still doesn’t feel good to receive praise from him, despite the fact that he’s everything.

“You…” Carmen needs a second, to catch his breath. He probably should quit smoking. “You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and— and nightmares— You— You know that? You understand that?”

“Yeah.” David’s entirely unfazed. All he’s heard is a list of benefits, in his head. “I gave you confidence and leadership and ability— It fucking worked.”

Is this what it working is supposed to feel like? Is this what it feels like to function? Is this what it means, to make it? If it is, then what the fuck does not making it feel like?

“I’m— I’m, I’m— I’m actually fuckin’ stunned, right now, I—” Carmen rubs his hands over his eyes. “My life stopped.”

“That’s the point.”

“That’s the point?”

“You wanted to be excellent. You got rid of all the bullshit, you concentrated, you focused— And you got excellent. And it worked. You’re here.”

You’re not bullshit. You’re not bullshit and he shouldn’t have done whatever he did to make you leave. Carmen is anything but excellent, without the people behind him, and he’s realizing that now. He’s an idiot, because you told him this, the second day of knowing him you told him this. He has a wonderful team— A family— A family he now considers you a part of. And he tanked all of it, everyone— Why? Because he had a bad fucking day? Because a dish got sent back? Because he fucked up tremendously? Boo-fucking-hoo, Carmen. It takes an idiot like David, who thinks he’s a genius, for Carmen to realize they look exactly the fucking same— And that is the actual thing that’s mortifying, tonight.

The real mortifying thing, isn’t that you were so fucking sweet and considerate of his stupid fucking brain and his stupid insane aspirations— It isn’t your dish. The mortifying thing is he prioritized the man in front of him, in any regard. It’s mortifying that Carmen made you feel like you had to prioritize the man in front of him.

“I just— I just made the—The only fuckin’ good thing in my life leave because— Because you got in my fucking head.”

David just raises his brows, like Carmen’s fucking stupid. Like there’s not a problem here. Because to him, there isn’t. And once again, the stupid fucking Exec repeats. “You’re welcome?”

“I’m—” The door opens, and for a moment, despite the fact that he watched your car disappear minutes ago, Carmen still thinks there’s a chance it’s gonna be you; begs a higher power that it’s going to be you. It’s not. It’s Richie.

“Hey asshole—” Richie stops, when he sees David. “Ah. You’re needed, Chef Carmen.”

“Cousin— You’re needed, pronto.”

“Not your Cousin.”

“Heard and resented.”

Richie’s had a habit of calling you cousin, lately. You pull your head out of the back of the Ball-Breaker arcade machine. Its controls are allegedly on the fritz, but you’re pretty sure Chi-Chi just sucks at this game. “Whaddya need? Do I have to run front a-fucking-gain?”

That was a fun out of nowhere three hour shift with zero restaurant experience— Par for bar. It will not be the last.

“Nono— Just a cuppa coffee? More like six.”

You kiss your teeth, tutting him. “You know how the fuckin’ machine works—”

“Want your coffee?” He corrects, like stroking your ego will make you fold. It does. You stand up, stretching your legs.

“Fine. Just get me a list of everyone’s—” He slaps a folded note against your forehead. “Orders.”

“Fucker.” You take it off your head to read. “Whatta ‘bout Mikey’s?” He’s missing from the list.

Richie shrugs. “Surprise him, he’s out back— In one of his moods.”

You don’t know how uncommon it is for Mikey to be so out of it. You’re meeting Mikey during his slow but certain downward spiral, but you don’t know that. No. How could you? No, so you think it’s normal for Mikey to occasionally leave rooms and turn inward.

“Aye aye, Rich.”

He kisses your temple as you pass him, making an all too aggressive ‘muah’ noise, because that’s what fake Italians do, as a form of thanks, and lets you go work your magic on the coffee machine.

You’re pretty integrated into The Beef, at this point. How long has it been? You don’t really need this list of orders, but it’s good to visually ingrain in your brain. You’re thankful to Mikey for investing in a bunch of Torani’s syrups for your coffee dreams. You’re here enough for it to be worth it, anyways.

You’re probably gonna start being here a lot more, soon. Well, maybe.

You haven’t told anyone yet, about what your dad told you this morning. That he’s gotta retire, soon. Like soon, soon. Now, you’re faced with a decision— Keep going with this EMS thing until your body fails and you need to be wheeled out by your own coworkers, or take on ownership of a small family business directly after the fucking pandemic. Really good options, here.

You’re leaning towards the latter, at the moment. You’re leaning towards being called here, for half your jobs. It’d be hard to make ends meet on just whatever crack change Mikey is able to pay you— But you used to bartend in college— You could work dailies whenever you’re short. Probably. It probably won’t be that hard. Could it be harder than what you’re doing now? Could it be harder than watching someone flat line? Probably not.

Ebra, watered down black coffee. T, two sugars, one milk, cinnamon and chocolate syrup. Marcus, spiced coffee. Sweeps, water in a deli cup— A delicacy. Richie, two sugars, cinnamon syrup, ideally boiling hot.

But to be fair, people need someone like you. People need paramedics. Is it selfish for you to decide you can’t handle it anymore? Should you let your body break before you let yourself go on one? Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Mikey? You’re feeling the knots build up again.

Out back. Richie said he’s out back. You pick up your coffee, and Mikey’s— cinnamon and caramel, this time— And head out back.

And you see a sight that you’ve actually seen plenty of times.

You’ve just never seen it in the back alley of The Beef. You’ve just never seen it happen to a friend. You’ve just never seen it happen to Mikey. You don’t drop your coffee cups in some sort of dramatic shock, or anything like that. Because that would take time. It’d take too much time to be shocked. You just turn around, immediately, partially crashing into the door as you run back in, breaking the mugs and spilling scalding hot coffee over your hands and chest— You don’t feel it, you don’t give a fuck.

“Cousin!”

You’re a mom friend. That’s what Syd used to say. You carry Tums, painkillers, cough drops, pepto— All in your purse or pockets. You keep a lighter on hand. You keep safety pins— All ranging in size, just in case of a clothing mishap. You keep kid’s band-aids in your wallet. You’re a mom friend. Everyone used to find you also carrying a naloxone kit a bit dramatic, like you were overdoing it. You always hoped they were right; that it would never be used. Regardless, you'd always replace it when it expired.

“Cousin get my fucking bag, now!”

“Right.” Carmen’s honestly kind of surprised, to be needed. But it’s probably just cover, to talk. People don’t typically need people like him, especially not Richie. He nods to David. “Chef.”

“Chef.” David nods back. He looks at Richie. “Where’d your translator go?”

The fuck? Richie does not look phased, at all. He also looks like he’s been crying— So it might just be that nothing phases him, right now— But at the very least, Carmen would expect some surprise. So this disrespect must not be new. Why didn’t he tell him?

Maybe he did, actually. Maybe that’s what happened forty minutes ago? How’d that lead to you leaving?

“My what?” Richie knows exactly what David’s getting at, but he asks anyways, to embarrass the fucker.

But David doesn’t feel embarrassment, it’s just not in him. “Your somme.”

“She had to leave early.”

“Ah,” He nods, “You’ve got her number, by chance?”

A deep and sharp exhale, through Richie’s nose, as he desperately tries to be a good host. Tries to be star material. But he runs his tongue across his top teeth and he just can’t bring himself to bite it. Richie hates both of the men in front of him right now. “I do, I do, actually— I’ve had her number for three years, memorized, y’know why?”

David shrugs, delighted to upset someone. “She your wife or something?”

A sharp, terrifying chuckle, honestly— One that hides any sign of a smile. Rich steps forward. “Oh, I should be so lucky. I would be so fucking lucky, if a woman like that—” And he pivots his head, to speak very deliberately, to Carmen. “Decided for some Godforsaken fuckin’ reason, that I was worth an ounce of her precious time— Let alone her hand.”

“If only, truly, David.” Still looking at Carmen, squarely in his face. “If fuckin’ only. If I had someone like that— I’d be on hand and fucking knee, for her.”

“Chef.” Carmen’s talking to David but looking at Richie, but that might also be because he can’t look anywhere else.

“Chef.” David shrugs, whatever fight here is beyond him. He doesn’t fucking care. Carmen knows the Michelin thing was bullshit—Certainly David can put in a good word, but inspectors are anonymous, that’s the whole point. But his stupid fucking Exec wanted to see if Carmen would stoop so low as to take the bait. It also wouldn’t hurt to get your number, you’re perfect. Carmen doesn’t think he’d have taken the bait, but the fact that he’s not sure speaks volumes.

David steps back into The Bear, and an Executive Chef and his dead brother’s best friend stand outside their restaurant. There’s a joke in here somewhere, and it’s probably Carmen.

“I’d fucking kill him.” You shake your head, when Mikey tries to brush off the end of his story like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe no one fuckin’ said anything.”

“They might’ve.” He sniffs, arms crossed— Guarding himself. He sits opposite of you, both sitting on the floor of his office, backs against either wall. “But I couldn’t fuckin’ hear anything but him— And then the fucking car, obviously.”

You can tell he’s trying to move on. He wants you to ask if his mom was okay. You don’t honestly care, and you don’t care if that makes you a bad person, either.

“You’re not nothing, Mikey.”

It’s close to midnight, a humid but cool August midnight. A week or so, since Mikey’s overdose. You’re finally christening your jumpsuit with a patch from The Beef, on the left shoulder. You do keep stabbing yourself with the sewing needle— If you were sleeping beauty you’d be fucking dead.

“I know.”

“Mikey, you’re not.”

“Don’t fucking Good Will Hunting me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You both laugh, but you’re still stuck with him, at that dining table, in your head. You’re still hearing Uncle Lee screaming, despite never actually hearing it. “They should’ve said something.”

“It’s different when you’re there.” He shrugs, again. “Hard to speak in those rooms.”

Your lips stay tight, for a moment. There’s a long silence of just staring at each other, because you want him to know that you’re completely serious when you say— “I would’ve said something.”

“Sug tried to say somethin—” “She told you to stop, that’s bullshit.” “She was mediating—”

“And why the fuck were you the one that needed to calm down, exactly?” You frown, deeply. You don’t have anything against Sug, but this story just rubs you the wrong way. The way no one was on his side verbally. “Just cause you’re the guy, means you can’t stick up for yourself? I hate that shit.”

He thinks on that, for a moment; because no one has ever said the thing out loud, never acknowledged it. He nods, tucking one knee up to rest an arm on it. “It sucks, being the guy.”

“It fucking sucks to be the guy!” You shout back, emphatic, practically jumping to agree— You jab yourself again. “Fuck, ow— Yes, it sucks.”

“And—” You’ve really opened a faucet for him. “And no one wants you to acknowledge that you’re the guy— Like you can take the compliment, but you can never say ‘I know, I’m doing it on purpose.’”

You poke at the tip of your nose with one hand and then to Mikey with the other, bang on. “No one wants the guy to know they’re the guy!”

“We always know!” “We always fucking know!” “We’re the guy on purpose!”

It’s rare for people like you two to talk and actually get along. The typical stereotype is that two sweethearts will always end up butting heads, too intimidated— But instead, you’re both just able to honestly commiserate over being who you are. The Guy. The Dependable One. The Head.

“You shouldn’t have to always be good and—and like, understanding of every single fucking person— Especially when they’re a dick!” You yell, exasperated. “You are allowed to fucking stick up for yourself!”

He tightens his lips in a line, because he agrees, but he has been so trained to lay down and take it. To take the teeth; it’s one of the many many jobs of being the guy. You know it just as well. He sighs, “I know.”

“You’re worth standing up for, Mikey.” You emphasize. They should’ve said something. It shouldn’t have been on you. You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself. They should’ve protected you, like you did for them. Like you always do for them.

His eyes flicker, a bit. He clears his throat and punches his chest, shaking his head out of it, because if he doesn’t, he might actually fucking cry, and that’s not what the guy does. “Okay.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He kicks your foot with his. “Now tell me some fucked up thing that happened to you, Jack.”

You laugh, and it quickly turns into a groan as you try to come up with something. “I uh… Oh! I fuckin’ hate the nickname ‘Jack’, that’s something.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, teasingly intrigued— You’ve thrown him a bone, because you’re the guy, too. He’s able to focus on this in lieu of himself.

You nod and continue. “My dad gave it to me, when I was really really little, like five or six— And it was ‘cause I like— For a kid, I was really into uhm, like— Like everything?”

“Like a nerd?” “Like a nerd.”

You chuckle. “I liked helping him go on jobs, and barely being able to hold flashlights. And I liked learning what all the wires and the pipes do— I liked doing chores and like— Making shit for people, or doing shit for people, if it made ‘em happy.” You’re a little too zoned in, on your sewing. The motion helps keep you grounded. “And so he would go like Awe, my helpful little Jack of all Trades, you can do it all.”

You pull the string up and out of the fabric, taught, dramatically high. “Which like, of course he was trying to be like, a good dad and hype me up— But my kid brain just garbled it and translated ‘you can do it all’ to ‘you have to do it all.’”

“Damn.” He cringes but laughs, sympathizing. “You got ‘guy’d’ at fuckin’ five?”

“Well, when did you get ‘guy’d?!” You snap back, he takes a moment to think about it, sighing.

He shrugs. “Probably five.” “Exactly!”

You both laugh, a bit too aggressively, honestly; compensating for the sting. Mikey sniffs, adding. “So that’s why you hate it? ‘Cause of the weight?”

“‘Cause of the weight.” You nod. “Like a constant reminder, that I need to be like— constantly at service.”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes looking down. Thinking about far too much, and though you have become his closest confidant, there are still parts of him that he won’t show. “Drinking helped?”

“Drinking helped.” You close the last stitch on the patch. “Which is funny, because that whole thing started from wanting to be helpful.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“There was uhm—” You can’t help but laugh a little, at the ridiculousness of it. “There was this girl, and she was my best friend, and she fucking loved— Or I guess still loves— Cooking. And even as a dinky little highschooler, she’d have me try shit, and it’d be like— So luxe.”

“Right.” Mikey smiles, thinking of all the dishes that have been foisted on him by the precocious cook in his life.

“And I wanted to be like… equally impressive. So I started doing research on wine pairings and shit, so I could have something to talk to her about, have somethin’ to say other than wow great job— Because I could tell she always wanted more.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “I haven’t gotten there yet!” “Well stop burying the lead!” “Oh don’t you point a finger when it comes to burying a fucking lead.” “Oh, fuck you.”

“Anyways!” You clap a hand on your knee, casting aside the completed sew job. “I’d give her pairings based on research— still teens, so we couldn’t drink yet, but she appreciated the thought. And then I went to college and she went to CIA and we were talking and then we graduated and suddenly we weren’t…” You knock your fist against your hand a couple times. “We weren’t talking, anymore.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “Kinda.” “Oh. I was being sarcastic.” “Yeah, dontchu feel guilty as fuck now?” “What happened?”

“It was easy.” You shrug. “I started working at pubs in college, I was getting free drinks all the time, I was trying more wines for her— I didn’t really see it as a problem, because like, I didn’t do it to function, I never reached for anything like ‘oh I fucking need this.’”

“That’s how it starts.”

“That’s how it fuckin’ starts.” You nod. “Then suddenly we weren’t talking and I became an E-M-T, and then suddenly I was watching people y’know, live through the worst moment of their lives or die, and I— Suddenly I did need that drink.” You should’ve just called her. She would’ve done a lot more for you than a bottle could. But you were stupid and tired, and still are.

“Who coulda thunk it?” “I know! Ridiculous.”

“How long you been stable, again?”

“Six months, four days… But who’s counting?” You laugh, and so does he.

You’re both very literally counting. And the buzzer of a timer going off on your phone reminds you of that. You both stare at it, in a daze, as it officially hits Twelve in the morning. Once you silence it, you look to Mikey.

“Michael The Bear Berzatto, you have officially been sober for twenty-four hours.”

He smiles, no teeth, but he smiles. “Gimme.”

“Be patient!” “I am being the most patient a person can be.” “Yeah that’s fair.”

You opt to go for the cupcake first, a big One candle sticking out of it. “This is stupid.” Says Mikey. “Have some fucking whimsy in the face of adversity.” Says you, pulling out your disposable camera.

“Do we need photos?” “What the fuck else are we gonna put in my folder?” “I dunno, write me sonnets.”

“Do you want sonnets?” You ask, and the worst part is Michael can tell you’re being sincere. You would write him sonnets, if he only asked. You would do anything, if he only asked. You quit being an EMT, immediately after seeing the state he was in, last week. You are here for Michael, and he only has to ask.

He shakes his head and blows out the candle when you lift the cupcake to his face, and he makes a wish to whatever higher power exists, that he won’t drag you down with him.

You thread a 24 Hours in Recovery chip onto the embroidery thread you were using and tie it off. When you present it to him, he bends his head down. “Chip me.”

“That’s not what chip me means.” “It means something?” “I’m pretty sure chipping someone means shooting someone—” “Well Google it, Chip.” “Well, fuck, ok— Chip?”

He shrugs, “Better than Jack, no?”

You throw the necklace over his neck, like you’re knighting him. You grow a great degree softer. Even when he’s deliberately not supposed to be The Guy, when he’s supposed to be working on himself, he’s still your guy. Still looking out for you just as much as you look out for him. He will never realize that you consider the exchange equal.

“Yeah, better than Jack.”

“This sobriety thing is going to be easy.” “ —Okay, so— The thing is, everyone kinda says that after twenty-four hours and then a week or two in, it actually hits—” “It’s gonna be so easy.” “I love that you think that and I want you to keep that hope up, I also think maybe let’s just be easy on ourselves if it gets hard—” “It’s not gonna get hard.” “That’s what she said—” “Fucking gross!”

He throws his arm over your shoulder, a loving noogie, but a noogie nonetheless. You try to hit him from below, it’s a failed flailing. You both start laughing and he stops, opting to just hold you there. You hold his forearm with your hands, and sigh.

“...Even when it’s not easy, we’re on the same team, okay? Don’t forget that. That we’re on the same team and I love you.”

He squeezes you a little, bicep curling. In fifteen seconds you will complain that he’s choking you, but right now, he says, “I’m not gonna forget you love me, Chip.” and neither of you know this is a lie, yet.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen sniffs, is he actually going to cry? Holy shit, he might cry. “I don’t know what I said—”

“You don’t know what you said?” Richie scoffs, he can’t help but laugh. “You don’t know what you fuckin’ said? Ah— It’s— It’s all good, man. You don’t know what you said, so it’s all good—”

“I’m apologizing—” “Nonono— No— It’s all good, I don’t need a fuckin’ apology. I know how you feel now, so it’s all fuckin’ good.”

“I love you—” “You love me? You love me? Oh, that would’ve been nice to hear half a fucking hour ago.”

Has it really only been thirty minutes?

“No— No, you know what?” Richie takes a choked breath, pressing his index finger over his nose and mouth, then points it to Carmen. “If that’s what your fuckin’ love is— I don’t fuckin’ want it. And I don’t want that shit for Chip, either— So leave her the fuck out of your fuckin’ love or whatever the fuck you think that is, too.”

That one hurts, because it’s true. Carmen can’t say anything to that; the silence just eggs Richie on more. “Oh, was that a low blow, to you? Cause I’d say saying it was her fault was a pretty low fucking blow— Kinda below the belt shit, if you ask me—”

“What?”

A silence louder than anything either of them have ever heard hangs in the air.

“Fuck you mean what?”

“I said what?” Carmen’s spit still feels like glass, he is destroying his throat. “What—What did I say?”

Stunned, Richie is stunned. And he can’t tell if Carm’s lack of cognizance in the situation makes him more or less angry. He’s pretty sure it’s more. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Cousin, what the fuck did I say to her?”

“You said she failed him.”

Yeah, Carmen’s gonna cry. Carmen is absolutely going to cry. Not weeping, but a tear. Just the one. Just the one, and the dry heaving. The dry heaving and just short of falling over, managing at the last minute to fall onto his rear. He slides his back against the full length window of The Bear. All the guests will get to witness his full blown meltdown. Who fucking cares. He cards through his semi-matted hair, again— It’s not fucking working. It’s not working and he might as well tear his hair out because there’s no reason for it anymore if you're not in it.

“I am a monster.” Not said like a question, not said with emphasis, not choked. Completely monotone. Zero pulse. Said as a fact as simple as the sky is blue. And it is. Because now that he remembers that one thread, he can follow it back. “I am bullshit.”

It’s hard to kick someone, when they’re down. It’s hard to say all the things you want to say to a person, when they’re just saying it about themselves. Richie just stares, debating his options. He could so easily choose to destroy what’s left of Carmen. Frankly, Carm’s sitting at the perfect angle to kick his fucking teeth in. Richie came out here with full intent of throwing Carmen through the window. Came out here with the full intent of proving he’s a fucking problem.

“...I don’t know how to fix it.” But Carmen looks up at him, with a never before seen level of humility. “How do I fix it?”

His best friend loved this guy, and unfortunately you also seem to be on the verge of loving this guy. And even more regrettably, Richie loves this guy. He shrugs, and to any onlookers, his response would seem to be lacking any level of empathy.

“Stop being you.”

“You don’t love me!”

“Of course we fuckin’ love you!”

“You don’t fucking love me!”

Like tidal waves, Richie and Mikey crash against either side of the walk-in freezer door. Mikey desperately trying to escape the freezer; you and Richie desperately trying to keep him in.

Your phone rings, in the middle of this. “Ah, shit, she’s calling back, hold on—” You slide your back off the door slowly, giving Richie time to place extra weight where your body was to keep it closed as Mikey relentlessly slams. He’s pivoted to screaming like— Well, a bear, now.

You move just a few feet away— Enough to fog up the yelling, but not enough that you couldn’t run back to Richie if his arms start to numb.

“Yo, T.” You answer, thankful that somebody has finally returned your fucking calls. To be fair, it’s painfully early— But how is no one awake an hour before they have to clock in? C’mon.

“We’re doing this because we love you, fuckin’ numb nuts!”

“Don’t be fuckin’ mean when he’s in a vulnerable state!” You kiss your teeth, yelling to Richie behind you, just as Tina tries to say hi.

“I am not a fucking patient, Chip!” Another slam, another violent jiggling of the door handle. You’re pretty sure that shit is going to break off one day, if he keeps doing that. You don’t know how right you are now, but you will in a year or so. “Open the fucking door!”

You only remember you’re on the phone with Tina when she pipes up, vaguely hearing the yelling on her end. “...Two week milestone going well?”

“Just fucking peachy, T.” You grimace, rubbing the space between your brows. “You think it’s healthy to lock him in the freezer? I feel like we are fucking this up.”

“Why’s he in the freezer?”

“Guess who was—” You turn your head to Richie, when you speak into the phone. “So fucking stupid— And left his fucking xanax just out in the open with his unfinished breakfast?”

“I apologized—” “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, Cousin! Now open the fucking door!”

“Yeah, I think freezer is the right call.” Says Tina; you’re both not sure if that’s true, but at the very least when he’s in there he can’t hurt himself or either of you. But fuck, he must be cold. Maybe that’s good for his nervous system? Every yell just mounts with guilt— But you’re his sponsor now. You are not his friend right now, you’re his mentor and you’re meant to do this. This is definitely— slam— the right thing—scream—to do.

“Yeah, probably.” You nod, to no one. “Well, basically, if you can let everyone know to just— Not fucking come in, today, or at the very least not come in for like— At least three hours. Maybe six. It’s not like you can work anyways, the freezer’s off limits until further notice.”

“You sure you don’t need us to come in?”

“Ah, T, that’s a nice thought but—” You wince, as you hear a crash from inside the walk-in. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse, for more people to witness this.”

Richie can tell what the crash is, because he himself has dropped shit an innumerable number of times in that walk-in before. “—Did you just knock over the fuckin’ stock—” “Fuck yourself! Fuck yourself! This is my fucking restaurant! Let me the fuck out, Richard!”

“Let’s just say call me back in three hours.” Is what you settle on. You don’t want to see this, and you don’t want anyone else to have to see this. And when Mikey eventually comes out of his rage state, he will be glad that the only two people that actually saw him like this, are his two closest friends. “Can you let everyone else know?”

“Yeah baby, I’ll let ‘em know.” First time Tina’s called you baby with sincerity instead of sarcasm, you wish you could savour it, but you’re so distracted with everything else that you really don’t even notice it. “Keep yourself safe too, alright?”

“Okay, Mama.” You reply with what is really only half sarcasm, and let her go. You sidle up to Richie, back on holding the door closed duty. Backs against the walk-in door, holding Mikey in, despite punch after punch after punch. He’ll wear himself out, eventually, but you’re terrified about how long that’s going to take. So is Richie.

He nods to your phone. “How long?”

You don’t need to check to know. “In six hours, he’ll be at two weeks.” You wince as one of Mikey’s hits against the door very directly targets your back, putting it in knots. “But it’s not like he’s suddenly going to go, oh well it’s been two weeks so I’m normal now, though.”

Richie just nods, pensive. “M’sorry.”

You shake your head. “I was just bein’ a bitch, we’re all getting used to it, I gettit, just try to be safer.”

He nods again, looking down at you as the beating seems to slow down. Richie tries to imagine a world where you two aren’t here right now; for some reason, he finds that universe more miserable. “We’re so fucked.” Because here it’s you two. You’re so fucked but it’s you two. It will take more than a year for you to figure out that’s how Richie feels.

“I know.” You punch back against the door, alerting Mikey— Not that he wasn’t already alert, and speak to both of them. “Same team, though!”

One last resounding body slam into the door, with everything Mikey has— It moves, just a bit, but not at all enough to open it. And then, a long silence. To the point where you and Richie look at each other, worried if Michael has somehow just died in there. But then a quiet voice speaks, like a white flag being raised.

“Same team.”

You look to Richie for permission, he’s just as clueless as you are here, as to what the right call is. With the most trepidation one could have, you put your hand on the handle and just start to pull on it, not even close to opening it. But Mikey notices the way the hinge moves by a hair, on the other side.

“Don’t open it.” You know he’s up to the door, just opposite of you. Not capable of looking at you; not capable of looking at him. “Six hours. It’s just six hours.”

But you can hear each other. And maybe that’s all you really ever needed. To be able to hear each other, even when he’s not here.

“Six hours. Same team.”

“I don’t know how.” Carmen’s nose twitches. “I don’t know how to stop being fucking—Garbage— I’ve tried—” “Have you?”

It’s a bit knife twisting, from Richie, but necessary. “Have you done the work? Cause it’s— I don’t think you have, Carm.”

“...What the fuck kinda work can I do, to fix me—?” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen, interrupting him. “That— That is the exact fuckin’ problem with you, Cousin.”

Carmen almost rolls his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “What, that I’m self-aware?”

“That you just fuckin’ give up.” “I don’t just give up—” “You do! You give up and you go wah, I’m a Chef with issues and I’m gonna make it everyone else’s fucking problem—” “I am asking for help—” “Are you? Because the last person that helped you just ran out crying.”

Richie exhales, eyes closed. There’s a long forced silence, as a few tables full of patrons exit The Bear, awkwardly shuffling past what is clearly a crisis between the people that have been serving them tonight.

“That was below the belt, I’ll admit.” Says Rich, once they’re out of earshot.

Carmen just shakes his head, though he cannot look at Richie, though he can’t refute anything.

Richie steps next to where Carmen sits, and like an olive branch, Carmen lifts up his arm to offer his cigarette. Richie accepts, thank God— Thank you, for softening him up, because if you hadn’t, again, Carmen would be going headfirst through the fucking window right now.

“Don’t yell ‘t me—” That honestly hurts more than getting thrown through a window. “But I don’t think you got Andrea, at all.”

Andrea? Oh. “Chef Terry?” The Ever’s owner, Richie means.

“Andrea.” Richie nods, taking a puff. “Every second counts— I don’t think you got it.”

Carmen just shrugs, shaking his head, sure, he worked there for years and Richie worked there for days, but sure, he’s the one that didn’t get it. “Yeah? What’d I miss?”

“It’s not meant to make you fuckin—” He gestures to the general form of Carmen. “Tweak. It’s not about speed or— or— like firin’ off on all fuckin’ cylinders.”

“Then what is it?”

“It counts because it counts.” Richie hands the cig back to Carmen. “It’s— The fucking—” He kisses his teeth, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “When you took like, a million goddamn years to make that fuckin’ mont— Mont— What was it?”

“Montmorency.” Your cherry sauce. Carmen spent too fucking long reducing it, yesterday. He redid it like five times. He’d redone it so many times the autopilot in his brain fucked up that fucking plate yesterday, and it threw his entire life into a spiral. No. That's not what happened. He threw his life into a spiral.

“That was worth it, cause it— Cause it took time. Does that— Am I making any fuckin’ sense? Terry did this shit better, fuck.” Richie rubs a hand over his face, you’d probably be able to explain this better too. “It’s not the thing you’re doing that makes it count, it counts because you’re doing it.”

The value is in the time, not what is delivered. It does not need to be the most special, hyper condensed, hyper focused, upper echelon second to count. It will count because it counts. Time spent is worth it, no matter what was bought. Every second you spend, will always count. All the work and the not work and the love and the not love— It all counts. It counts because it counts. You care therefore you care. Any effort made is good effort.

Why does Carmen keep taking eons to learn what you are always trying to tell him?

The door opens, again. Instead of more patrons, Syd steps out— Wondering where the fuck her Exec and Host have gone. “Are we good?”

“No.” Says her Exec and Host. She nods, that’s good, cause she’s not good either.

“Who’s runnin’ house?”

“No one.” Lies Syd, Tina’s running the back, Sweeps is running the front, but she wants to freak Carmen out a little. She grabs the cigarette from Richie. “Burn the money, I say.”

“So, what you’re asking me to do— If I’m understanding, correctly, which— I might not be— You want me to take all my money, okay, and place it in a fucking furnace? Is that right?”

“So I’m sensing—” You curl your hand in the air. “A touch of hostility, which is fair.”

Bargaining with Uncle Jimmy isn’t the easiest thing in the world— Especially when this is your first time meeting him— And you’re begging him for money. Well, helping Mikey beg him for money.

“Listen, Uncle, please.” Mikey swallows, leaning in, elbows on the table. It’s nearly the end of January. New year, fresh start. No better time to pitch a half-baked pipe dream in the middle of The Beef’s dining room. “It’s not like I’m brand new to the restaurant gig— We turn profit, here, we can fuckin’ pay people.”

“Can you pay me?” “We will—” “Or you could just let me cut my losses—” “I wanna do something real, Uncle.”

“Why’s she here, again?” You shrink, when Cicero points at you. You swallow.

“I’m here as… Proof… That he wants to do something real.” You have to stop yourself from doing jazz hands, doubling down on the awkwardness will not make it go away, that is sadly not how that works.

Jimmy stares, for a moment, the cogs in his brain almost audibly whirring, as he stares at the space between you and Mikey, where you sit, at the other side of the booth. “Are you having a fuckin’ baby or somethin?”

The visceral reaction from your side of the booth is immediate. The worst part is he’s not even the first one to ask something like this— No, the manager at Wells Fargo was.

“What the fuck!” “Come on, Uncle…” “Do I— Do I look like a Milf, what the fuck is going on—” “She could be my daughter!” “Alright— So that is a little far, but the sentiment—”

“Alright, shut the fuck up, what is so fucking real that I’m suddenly going to hack up—”

Mikey tosses his necklace onto the table. It shouldn’t be physically possible, because it’s on a string, but it still manages to roll for a comically long time, like a coin, over to Jimmy. To thine own self be true. One Month.

“You will not be giving your money to some fucking junkie, Uncle—”

You wave a hand, interrupting Mikey. “Verbiage.”

He swallows and nods, taking the note. A hard lesson to learn. “You will not be giving your money to— To— You— You’re gonna give your money to someone who is trying, alright?”

Uncle Jimmy hasn’t looked up from the chip since it landed; Mikey continues. “And— And I’m gonna bring Carmy on, and we’re gonna do like—Like high level shit. Like a real fuckin’ Michelin level—”

“How many times have you gotten to a month?”

“First time.”

Jimmy frowns, crossing his arms. “How many times have you tried getting to a month?”

“Five.” Michael says, “Six.” you correct. Christmas was hard. Christmas was extremely fucking hard. You weren’t with the Berzattos, upon Mikey’s request— And neither was Carmen, upon Mikey’s ignoring him completely. And that made things a little fucking hard.

Jimmy just nods, arms still crossed. He’s forming some sort of plan, in his head, you’re just not sure what it is yet. He looks to you. “So you’re his sponsor, then?”

“Yessir.” “Do you feel qualified to do that?” “No-sir.”

Mikey kicks you under the table, your proclivity for honesty is not doing a great job selling this whole restaurant idea. You kick him back. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel qualified.”

“You sober?” “Not really.” “Well that’s kind of a key factor, I’ve heard.”

You sigh and lean forward, putting your hands in your lap. This is Mikey’s Uncle— Well, is he, actually? Unsure. But he gives as much of a fuck as you do, so you spill your guts, because you know he’s poking because he’s worried that some kid is taking care of Mikey and it’s the blind leading the fucking blind.

“I’m stable. I drink, sometimes— But never more than one glass, and never multiple days in a row. I’m coming up on a year, I still attend A-A— Though not as often as I’m told I should— And I’ve told Mikey that turbulent month long benders and a full blown decade long opioid addiction are not the same thing and I really shouldn’t be his sponsor.”

Mikey leans forward as well, then, meeting your level. “And I told Chip— And our coord— That I won’t do the program without her.”

After a long moment of silence, taking his time to digest every bit of information, Jimmy nods to the folder on the table. “N’ this?”

“It’s like a… Proposal?” You look to Mikey for help, he shrugs. This motherfucker— You’re not even a stakeholder in this, why are you talking? You turn back to Jimmy. “It’s like a promise.”

You open the folder, there’s loose sketches you’ve put together of The Bear’s signage, plus Carmen’s original piece— It was fun and weird, to work off of an artist you’ve never met before. There’s also cut outs from the New York Time’s and Food and Wine magazine showing off his award winning talents.

“We make money now.” Mikey finally chimes in, crossing his arms. “Imagine what we could do with him.”

“It would be cool!” You wingman. A little too excited for someone who’s never even breathed in a Michelin restaurant. “It’d be cool to have, like, a fine-dining establishment on North Orleans.”

“Or you’d completely cut out the audience that already likes The Beef.”

Mikey defends, “The people don’t know what they like, yet.” while you spread out some more papers across the table, showing off screenshots of food Carmen’s texted, that Mikey has never replied to. “They will like this shit— It’s— It’s art, Uncle. When they see this, they won’t give a shit about sandwiches.”

“They’ll give a shit about the price.”

“Uncle, I’m the guy.” Mikey uncrosses his arms, straightening up his posture, because now it’s serious. “I can— We can do this.”

As you continue to spread out papers, Uncle Jimmy stops you, seeing a peculiar page in the pile. He points to it, so you fish it out and hand it to him. He squints. “Joint bank account?”

You nod. “It’s so I can keep an eye on his spending and withdrawals.” Mikey tries not to wince at the fact a kid is in charge of managing his finances. You try not to wince at the fact that despite managing his finances, he's still reset six times.

“Y’know banks are a fuckin’ scam, right?”

You do not entertain Jimmy for a second, finally losing your whimsy. Your leg is shaking underneath the table— Thank God these tables are bolted. “I know that this is the first time in twenty years that my best friend is keeping savings.”

Not just living paycheck to paycheck, anymore. Not spending every penny on painkillers, anymore. Mikey is saving up because now there is a future to spend it on. Cicero swallows, nodding, eyes looking down, thinking deeply.

When he speaks again, it’s to say the most insane thing you’ve ever heard. “Ten grand a week.”

Your reply is in sync with Mikey, both jumping forward in your seats. “What?”

“Every week.” Jimmy pushes the chip back to your side of the table. “Every week that you keep going, that’s ten grand.”

You flail your hand under the table, grabbing for Mikey’s— He does the same, and it’s like a contest for who’s going to break who’s hand first, with how hard you’re holding each other.

Mikey’s first to ask the question, “Is that… Starting now or starting since I—”

“I’m so glad you asked, fuck no, that’s starting now.” He points to you, now. You flinch. “You’re gonna piss test him every fuckin’ week. I’m not fucking around about this.”

“Right. Heard.” You can only nod, because if you express anything else, it might just be screaming forever and ever. He pivots back to Mikey.

“And it’s gonna be cash— It’s not going in that fuckin’ joint, aright?” “Heard.”

“...Alright. Deal.” Cicero comes forward in his seat, and shakes Mikey’s hand. And despite not being a stakeholder, he reaches for yours, too; you shake it, and after a moment, he ruins this excitement stirring in the room, moving out of the booth. “I gotta piss, now.”

When he leaves for the bathroom, Mikey leans his head to you, putting his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Art of the deal.”

You push his face away immediately, laughing. “Shut the fuck up! Why did you make me lead that shit!?”

Tomorrow Mikey will relapse again, and you’ll reset his necklace for the seventh time, but you don’t know that yet. Carmen’s gonna be so excited, when he finally comes back to Chicago and gets a sober brother and his dream restaurant. You’re excited to meet the guy, one day. Fingers crossed he likes you.

“That was fucking nuts.” Sydney decides that’s the best way to surmise it. “Like more than usual.”

“I’m aware.” Carmen can only nod, and despite the fact that he’s just going to lie down and take this, it does not remove the bitter feeling in her heart at all. Syd’s fucking mad, and she wants him to know.

“I’ve— I’ve literally only ever seen her cry like, like during Pixar movies or when we graduated. Like she just— That’s not a thing she does. I, I’m so— I literally don’t know what the fuck to do, right now.” For a second, she thinks her vision is flickering. “Oh my god, am I finally having a stroke?”

The three restaurateurs look up to see their neon white logo of a bear’s head, flickering and occasionally buzzing out. Richie’s the first to speak, as they all blankly stare at it. “Who are we gonna call, f’this?”

If this was yesterday, or maybe even if this was an hour ago, it wouldn’t be a question as to who they’d call. Carmen scratches the back of his head, the flaking hair gel is getting itchy. “Ted?”

“Who’s Ted?” Asks Syd; that’s not Tony, Terry or Tommy.

“Ted Fak.” Richie and Carmen answer at once, she almost gasps.

“They’re multiplying?”

Richie rolls back into his memory. “There’s eight— No, fuck, nine of them— I always forget Avery.”

Sydney just nods and hugs her shoulders for warmth. They all keep staring at the flickering bear, like moths.

“I don’t—I don’t have anyone, except her, y’know?” Syd sniffs. “Like after my dad, it’s— it’s literally just her. She’s my best and only friend.”

Carmen presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, “Heard.”

“I don’t want to choose between her and my career.” Carmen thinks she’s pausing, so he waits, but she’s not talking. That was the end of the sentence.

“Heard.”

“If that’s what getting a star takes, I don’t want it.” That’s huge. That’s a big statement, from Syd of all people. That gets the men to turn their heads from the light to her.

Syd continues to stare at the flickering bear, which lights up the two single straight streams of tears perfectly. It’s silent. She’s not snivelling or anything, she just shakes her head in tight swivels, biting her inner cheek. “It’s just— it’s just not worth that.”

“How can I fix it?” Maybe Syd will have a better answer than Richie did, something a little more actionable. She finally flits her gaze from the light down to Carmen, where he sits.

“Can you stay after close?”

“—Nobody in this motherfucking city knows transit etiquette— Why does everyone get on and go ‘wow I love standing in the walkway’— I’m so— There was so much seating just ahead of the blockage, Mikey, I’m so pressed, I’m literally—” You massage your brows, finishing up your rant from this morning’s commute. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“If you weren’t a little passenger princess, this wouldn’t be a problem, Chippy.” “I have my fucking license! I just don’t have a car!” “Then buy one!” “With who’s money!?” “Mine?”

A terrible running joke, from Mikey, is telling you to spend his money— The money he gets from staying sober. The money he’s saving for The Bear. The reason why he thinks this is funny, is because you have no fucking idea where he’s been putting it. But you know he hasn’t spent it, so that’s all that really matters.

You just huff, leaning back against the wall of his office as you watch him work, arms crossed and cringing as he futzes with the wiring. “You’re going to light us up like a Roman fucking candle.”

“It’s Jewish lightning—” “Top twenty-thousand reasons we do not say that— Number One—” “It’s gonna work! Just trust me!”

Mikey’s office looks a lot more lively, lately. He never cleans up the mugs of coffee you give him, every morning. He says it’s his way of tracking which flavour is his favourite, since you’re always switching up. It will never change from the chai spiced blend, and you both know that. It’d be more accurate of him to say he likes the sticky notes you tack on to each mug, saying you love him and saying he needs to keep going.

“I could fix it, y’know.” At that, Mikey turns away from his distressing handiwork to look at you.

“I know. But I wanna prove I can, too.”

That hits you right in the chest. You want to tell Mikey that he never has to prove anything, with you; never has to lift a goddamn finger. But he would hate to hear that. “Okay.”

You hear from outside the office, the back door opening. “Child incoming, no expletives please!”

“What the fuck is an expletive?” Mikey asks you, whispering.

You whisper back, leaning forward off the wall to close in on him. “It’s what you just did.”

Eva runs in, the way that kids do— The way they kinda waddle. Immediately up to you and Mikey. Uncle Mike and Aunty Chip, she calls you both. Sometimes Uncle Jack— Because she hasn’t completely grasped the concept of gender yet— Good, no one should.

“Watch!” You have yet to even say hi, before she immediately attempts to do a cartwheel in the middle of this very small office.

“Good job, Evie!” You clap, after she just barely lands safely on her shins.

She nods, “Can you do that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think I can.” You look up from her to Mikey. “Can you?”

“Can I cartwheel?” He stumbles back, slapping his hand over his chest. Gutted. “Can I cartwheel? Eve— She doesn’t think I can cartwheel.”

“Insane, Uncle.”

“Not what I said!” You can’t hold back your laughter, what a shining this kid has taken to her dad. “I’d love to see it, I really would!”

Mikey just shakes his head, kissing his teeth. How dare you offend his honour, in this way? This forty-two year old man can absolutely cartwheel with the best of them. In five minutes he definitely isn’t gonna eat shit in the dining room of his restaurant. He pats Eva on the shoulder. “You go with your dad and clear out some tables out front, I’m gonna need space.”

“You’re gonna break your neck, Mike.” Richie chimes in, standing in the doorway now, waiting for Eva to return to him. “I don’t wanna plan your funeral.”

“Please, you would plan a terrible funeral.” “That’s bull—”

“Expletive!” You cover Eva’s ears. She just laughs, looking up at you with that cute and bizarre blank kid stare. What a little patoot.

Richie looks to you, forgetting the bit for a moment, “Y'need a grocery run, tonight?”

You nod, removing your hands from Eva, but then she holds them there. Goddamnit, kids are an awful idea but she's fucking cute. “Pay you gas money in the form of Wendy's?”

“Marone!” Richie exclaims, poorly, grabbing your face by the chin and top of your head to kiss your cheek just short of a million times. “The perfect woman—”

“Not Italian!” is the synchronous reply from you and Mikey.

Richie rolls his eyes, “Not Italian— Fu—”

Eva interrupts him, taking as much as a shining to you as she does her father. “Exp—Expultive!” She looks at you for approval and you nod in delight.

“Just go set up front, would ‘ya?” Mikey brushes Rich off, the man just rolls his eyes, picking up his daughter from you to fly her off like an airplane.

“Let's set the stage for your Uncle’s neck injury, sweets. Bwwwwrrr—” Richie makes good airplane noises. Richie’s a good dad. You will never find a good time to tell him this. You watch Mikey’s back flex, as he cracks back into the hole of wires in the wall. He's been working hard on a lot of little things lately.

You will not realize he is trying to make things clean and square, until it is too late. Right now, you’re just happy, because, “You’re already at three weeks again, and you haven’t even noticed.”

“Oh, I fucking noticed.” He doesn’t face you, when he says it, but it’s with a hearty chuckle. He’s noticed it violently, he’s just getting very good at the first month, now— Well acquainted with the burn out. “But now there’s money on the line, I can’t lose.”

It’s not that money’s on the line. It’s that his brother is on the line now. And Mikey couldn’t do this for himself— but the guy could do it for his brother. So he’ll just be the guy, that’s what the guy’s do. Six hours, same team. Nine weeks, Mikey, come on.

“Well you’re doing good, I’m proud of you.”

“You believe in me?” He says it like he doubts your conviction. You nearly punch him in the back of the head.

“Of course I believe in you.”

Mikey bites his inner cheek, though you can’t see his face. “...Why are we keeping the candles?”

Ah. You’ve still got the one and two candles in his drawer with a lighter, ready for the next cupcake. They’re slowly but surely melting with each reset, eventually they’ll be incomprehensible. Do you believe in me? If you do, why are you saving them? Do you think we’ll need them? That’s what Mikey’s asking. You scoff.

“You’re so stupid.” “What the— I confide in you and I get this—”

You interrupt him, arms crossed. “One day, one week, one month, one year, fuckin— When we get to double digits? Ten months? One decade?”

He’s mum, at that. You add. “We’re getting our fucking mileage out of these candles, Mikey. I believe in you.” You think Mikey has a future, still. Mikey knows he doesn’t. He changes the subject because if he doesn’t, he’ll tell you everything and you will stop it.

“I want you to start talking to Carmen, when he comes back.” You should’ve asked Mikey why he was so certain Carmen would be coming back. But you weren’t smart enough.

“What the fuck?” You snort. “Okay, out of literally nowhere—” “You’d like him.”

“He sounds very nice.” “He’s not. He’s a—” “Ball buster, yes, you’ve told me.” “He’d like you.” “Why?” “Cause you’re you.”

“Wow, pretty inarguable there.” You can only smile, unable to see the wheels turn in Michael’s head. “Guess we’ll be besties.”

“I meant talk like talk—” “Are you trying to hook me up right now?” “He’s a virgin, so it’s definitely not a good deal for you—” “And— And why are we talking about your brother's sex life— Did we already explode and this is hell?” “I just want you to be prepared for what you’re getting into, he gets performance anxiety so—” “Mikey!”

“You’ll talk to him?” Mikey turns away from the wall, wanting you to look him in the eyes and promise him.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but stick a hand out for the Berzatto to shake. “Yes, Bear, I’ll talk to your virgin Michelin star ranked brother.”

“Thank you! I ask for so little.”

After close, after everyone but Carmen, Sydney, and Richie leave, the three make plans to meet in Michael’s office. Carmen will go in ahead to hide your folder because he doesn’t want to see it himself and he absolutely doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Even if one of them could very well explain it, because he’s fucking in them. It’s fine. He looks at your wrapped up painting in the corner of his office. Carmen considers for what feels like a decade, whether or not he should open it. But he hasn’t earned a gift from you, so he doesn’t— Not for now, at least. He hasn’t earned your art right now.

Underneath your ICE folder is his notepad— The one he was scribbling recipes for his Exec into, the one he scribbled your recipe into, and underneath all that torn up paper— His list, from this morning. The non-negotiable rules he wanted— Wants? To add to The Bear. There’s twenty-seven. Half of them are spelt wrong as he wrote them while absolutely losing his shit, this morning. This list did not go over well, when it was proposed during family, at two in the afternoon. Some of these could still work though, right? At least the technique and the boxes and the—

Richie comes in, not knocking, and immediately spots the list. “Oh good.” He grabs the notepad and rips off the twenty seven points. Leaving only the title, NON-NEGOTIABLES.

“Come the fuck on—” Says Carmen. Richie rolls his eyes, tossing the list onto the desk. Richie can tear him and his stupid fucking list a new one another time— Richie and Carmen can sort out their own part of the fight in a week, when they take a twelve hour road trip. Right now though, they are both completely focused on you.

Sydney comes in with two labelled deli containers of coke. Time codes and everything, she can't turn it off. She hands one to Rich, the other one is for herself. That’s fine, soda on Carmen’s shredded throat really wouldn’t be great right now anyways. She takes a sip, looking over Carm's shoulder. “Oh, we’re doing a real list, now?”

Carmen just sighs, letting the dig go, because he deserves it. He clicks his pen, sitting down, ready to write, without hesitation. “Go.”

Richie leads, “You need to fucking relax.”

“Lay off her,” Sydney waves her hand over her neck. “Leave her the fuck alone, for like a week, minimum.”

“No— What? No— You should call her like now—” “Absolutely not the right move—” “Solve it hard and fast—” “Why hard—?”

“I’m just gonna wait.” Carmen decides, typically Syd is the right one, anyways. Plus if he hears your voice right now he might throw up and he doesn’t have your tums, anymore. “Next?”

“An exorcism.” Richie doesn’t laugh, when he says it. “Also read fuckin’ Runnin’ on Empty— By Doctor Webb.”

The two cooks just look at him, like Richie’s grown five thousand heads. He groans before they even say anything. “I’m fuckin’ well read, shut the fuck up— It’s—” He snaps his fingers, pointing to Carmen’s list, “It’s an audiobook, too, on fuckin’ Spotify— Listen to that shit on your commute you have no excuse.”

“Yes, Chef.” Carmen writes it down, he also writes down under things to look into, catastrophizing, while he’s at it. Richie watches over his shoulder, and adds, “Look into sublimation and behavourial dysfunction.”

Syd’s still reeling over the sudden character growth. “You need to relax with the self-help books.”

“Yeah, well you need to read Mark Wolynn’s ‘It Didn’t Start With You.’” Richie’s got lists of books now, instead of zingers. They somehow hit harder.

She’s got no come back for that other than a surprised pout and nod, taking her own phone out to write it down. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmen pipes in, not looking up from his list of to dos “Should I also read that one—” “Yes.” “Heard, Chef. Next?”

“It cannot be on Tony to be your fucking punching bag. If you’re tweaking— Keep that shit between you and your therapist—” Syd switches from her notes app to search, “We’re finding you a fuckin’ therapist.”

“Is that covered in our contract?” Didn’t he write it? Carmen doesn’t know.

“Doesn’t matter. Also I don’t know, but doesn’t matter.” Syd hasn’t read it yet. She also doesn’t know.

You are worth a couple out of pocket fees. Well, more importantly, Carmen is worth a couple out of pocket fees— Well, alright, he’ll discuss his weaknesses of self-prioritization with the therapist.

Before Carmen can even say next, Richie adds. “Also you smell like shit.” The hair gel is pungent in a bad way.

And before he can defend himself, Sydney adds, not looking up from her phone, “We’re going to fuckin’ Kohl’s after this and we’re getting you a skincare— And haircare— routine. You’re seconds away from breaking out, I bet you use fuckin’ Palmolive dish soap.”

“Well— I’ve been using Tony’s, actually—” “We know.” It’s a completely synchronized interruption.

“It’s been her signature scent, since highschool.” “Who do you think took her grocery shopping when she didn’t have a car?” “I thought I was having a flashback everytime you walked by in the kitchen, this past week.” “You should go back to it.”

“I know. I will.” He’s got every intention of re-upping on your shampoo and conditioner, when he’s taken on a shopping spree to get his shit together. Hopefully you won’t mind him copying you. “No more Five in One.”

“You’ve been using fucking five in one!?”

Carmen thought, yesterday, naively, that he would do right by you on Friday. He didn’t, he did the very opposite— But even if he did, that’s weak shit. Carmen’s not gonna do right by you for just one single fucking day. Carmen’s gonna do right by you, for the rest of his life. The three get to well over twenty seven points, and he has every intention of showing up to it. He’s gonna be your man, and he’s going to fucking earn that title. He’s going to prove it.

“Okay. So can you tell me what happened on February 22nd?” She’s a shit therapist. You’re imagining both you and her dead in your head. You’ve been imagining a lot of people dead in your head, for the last two weeks. Every time your dad comes to check on you, you imagine that he’s a ghost.

You imagine having a passing conversation with someone, maybe catching up with Syd, one day. And she’ll ask you ‘Meet any interesting people?’ and you’ll say ‘Yeah. But he killed himself.’ That’s gonna suck. You didn’t prepare for that one. So you need to prepare now. Look at all of your friends and family, and imagine they are dead— And introduce them as such. ‘That’s my friend Richie, he died.’ Make it hurt now, so it doesn’t hurt then.

You didn’t prepare enough. Didn’t do enough. Countless little mistakes and moments you missed. The therapist is looking at you, oh right, it’s your turn to talk again. You’ve told her all these cute little stories but now she wants to hear how the sad shit went. Or maybe it was all sad shit. Maybe it’s all coated in a film of grief, now.

You’ll tell her that Mikey was very thorough, with his plan that you didn’t know about. He waited until he thought you were out of the city— When he knew you’d be out of the city. When your sister in law delivered your nephew and you went to Oak Park to visit.

Just days before, you celebrated three months of sobriety with him and Richie— You’ll tell the therapist, excitedly, that this was his longest streak so far, it took him a year to reach three months— It was a big fucking deal. You were beaming all day. You didn’t realize, however, that days after Uncle Jimmy had made his deal with you two, that Mikey did the math. Figured out exactly how many weeks he’d have to be sober, to get three-hundred grand.

Thirty weeks. Roughly seven months and two weeks. He did it. Not in sequence, but he did it. You’re still not sure where that money is. Uncle isn’t either. Maybe Carmen will figure it out. It’s meant for him anyways. You’ll say that Carmen will figure it out in such a way that she asks— “And do you hold animosity? Towards his younger brother?”

You look at her like she’s a psycho, because she is. Replying incredulously, “I don’t fucking know him.”

‘My best friend Michael is dead.’ ‘My best friend, Mikey, is dead.’ Doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

“Do you wish you did?”

“I really couldn’t say I give a shit, ma’am. Can I tell you about the guy I did know, though?”

She nods, you roll the fuck on. You tell her that the morning after you got to your brother’s place— February 22nd, you all decided instead of staying for the week, as you’d planned, as Mikey planned, you’d instead go home early. Because as much as you wanted to be helpful, having more people in the house was stressing the new mom the fuck out. Understandable. So you took a train back to Chicago early.

You got home, and you found that you’d gotten some mail, waiting for you on the floor, shoved through the mail slot of your door. Bill, bill, invoice, spam, coupons, handwritten envelope— Ah. Mikey’s handwriting. A deep unsettling feeling burrowed its way into you. It just says For Chip. There’s no letter inside. No. There’s a debit card, his, of your joint bank account, there’s a key, yours, a copy of your key to this apartment, and a necklace, his— With his three month sobriety chip hanging off of it.

You call him, immediately. He doesn’t answer the first time. You call him again. He answers on the last possible ring.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life— Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call with an old friend.

“Yo, Ice-y!” A classic nickname, reserved purely for phone calls with Mikey. Because in his phone, you’re 0ICEChip, so you’ll show up at the top of his contact list, if he’s ever found unresponsive. Typically a pro-tip reserved for those in hospice care.

You don’t entertain him. “Where are you?”

“I’m just out for a walk, sweetheart.” “Shut the fuck up out for a walk— Where the fuck are you?”

He hums at your snarky tone. “Nephew didn’t take a liking to you?” “I came home early.”

The silence is long, and you can hear the heavy wind coming through his phone. He’s outside. He’s somewhere outside. It’s a cold night. It’s usually not this cold at the end of February, but it really fucking came down, this morning.

“Oh.”

“Why did you leave this shit at my door? Where are you?” You thought of 0ICE but you didn’t think to have him turn his location on? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot. You didn’t do enough. ‘My friend, Bear, is dead.’ You didn’t prepare enough. “Bear, c’mon, what’s going on? I told you, if we need to reset, it’s two steps forward, one step back, it’s okay—”

“It’s not.” “It is! We will get there!” “I’m not. You’re gonna get there, I’m not.” “That’s not true!” “I love you but we both know this was a pipe dream.”

“Mikey—”

“Chip, I’m not going anywhere. You’re— You’re fucking going somewhere. I can’t— I can’t let— We both know where I’m going and it’s nowhere you should begin to be.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me. You don’t get to make that call. I decide what I bet on— Mikey, where are you?” You’re walking out of your place, you hadn’t even closed the door before leaving again.

Fucking idiot, you should’ve bought a car. How are you supposed to get to him on foot and train? Fucking idiot. The snow is beating down, the wind is cutting into your face. ‘My best friend died on February 22nd. On the State Street Bridge.’— Why didn’t you get a fucking car? You didn’t do enough. You can’t remember any of your training, right now. What are you supposed to say? “Are you using?”

“No. No. I’m— This is me, Chip.” “No it’s fucking not, Mikey! Shut the fuck up, where are you!?”

“I love you, I didn’t want this to be— I-I—I’m not killing myself, Chip.”

“You’re not?”

You shouldn’t have believed him. You should’ve just kept walking. You would’ve figured out where he was, eventually. You should’ve called the coast guard, or some shit. Should’ve just figured it out.

“I’m not. I’m— I’m okay, I’m really just going for a walk— I-I just— I had a… I— I don’t want you to be my sponsor anymore. That’s it.” It made sense. He didn't want you to feel hurt, so he was hesitant. It made sense.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re a kid, and I can’t make you responsible for what I do.”

“I’m not a kid.” “To me, you are.” “Then we’ll find you someone else.” “Yeah, okay.”

You pause, for a good bit, listening to the shakiness of his breath. “You’re cold, Mikey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re just cold.” That’s all that’s wrong. He’s just cold and he doesn't want you to be his sponsor anymore. “Go inside, soon. Come home.”

“I will.”

Mikey always had that way of making you think everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t. “Okay.”

“I want you to start treating our joint like an advanced payment, by the way. A million things are always fucking breaking at The Beef, there’s no point in wiring all the time.”

Mikey wants this to be clean and square, too. Because he couldn’t figure out the wiring by himself— He needs to make sure his baby brother is taken care of, he needs to make sure his restaurant is taken care of, he needs to make sure that you have something to do because Michael fucking saw you.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nod to no one. “I think your toilets fucked, speaking of.” You laugh, everything’s okay. There’s a long silence, and you think he’s hung up.

“Good. Okay— You should— You should come fix it, sometime soon… Love you, Chip.”

“Love you, Bear.”

You will tell your therapist that after that phone call, you went back inside, cleaned yourself up, unpacked unused toiletries, changed out of your borrowed brother’s sweats into your nice pajamas, because Mikey said he would come home. He said he would come home and you believed him because he never lied to you before. You set up the things he left for you in your handmade clay dish tray; so he can take them back. Just because you’re not his sponsor, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his chips.

You will tell your therapist that you fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Michael. You will tell her you woke up to a phone call from Richie, and all he said, wavering, was, “You should come over.” Richie doesn’t ask things. Richie will always say, come over. You don’t know why that’s the signal you get, since you seemingly must have missed so many other obvious signs, but you know then that your— Your— Your best— Fuck, the knots are fucking debilitating, fuck fuck fuck.

You will not come over. You will walk, in the cold, to your dad’s place. You will not bring anything with you. You will stay there and rot for two weeks, as will everything in your apartment. He will force you to go to this several hour long therapy appointment because he can’t keep watching you do this, and you will resent the woman you are telling all this.

You will continue to see her, for five more sessions, because the first six are covered under your insurance. She will help in a lot of ways, she will hurt in others.

Wells-Fargo will ask if you want to close your account. You don’t want to, but it’ll accrue monthly banking fees, so you take the money out and close it. You buy a shitty maroon 2004 Dodge Intrepid off Facebook Marketplace with the two and a half grand. It barely functions as a car. But it will drive. The next time someone needs you. You can drive. Next time you’ll think of everything, next time you won’t fail.

You stop paying the phone bill, for your business line. It goes defunct. You just don’t think you should be trusted to be helpful, for the next little while. You will blame your father for this, when people ask about it.

On the day of his funeral, you will go. You will go, and you will sit on the curb across from the church, and you will not go inside. It's just not possible. You will buy a pork chop-cheese sandwich from a bodega nearby and you will eat it on that curb and it’s only then, after shoving it down for so long, that you will scream and cry.

You will leave before anyone sees you, and you will go to State Street Bridge, and you will set up a small vigil. You will finnick with the candles and the flowers until you feel they are perfect. They will never get perfect. You just don’t want to leave. You have a tendency to do that.

You will stare at the little stuffed bear, the roses, the picture frame of him, and you will finally say it aloud.

“My best friend, Mikey, died.”

When Carmen shows up, two hours later, not honestly that long after you finally left, he will add a bouquet and a prayer candle. He will readjust all of your work, to his preference, and then readjust it again and again and again— and he will finally say it aloud.

“My brother, Mikey, shot himself.”

No matter how you say it, it won’t roll off the tongue.

And about thirty-nine weeks from that day, you will be in New York, at a wedding, talking with the virgin Michelin star ranked brother, as you promised.

You will have abandoned your bar after making confessions under the counter, and have instead co-opted the single stall gender-neutral bathroom to have ample time and space to tell each other everything you’ve told your therapists. Even now, neither of you can get the words to roll off the tongue.

But Carmen manages to make “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry— I will never be able to surmise, how sorry—” roll off well enough. Alas, he’s interrupted, by a knock on the gender-neutral bathroom door, made by the only fuckers that knows you two are in here.

“Guys I— Guys I don’t know how to run bar, and I don’t think I should’ve been trusted, with this.”

Carmen will not look away from your bleary-eyed face, he will not break his focus even when you laugh at the sudden tension break. He will just tell the Faks to fuck off and figure it out.

“I’m gonna fix it.” Carmen will tell you, and you will nod and say, “I will too.”

Because it’s not just on one of you, anymore. It can be both. The shared burden. The shared grief. No more fucking shoes, because it's all out now.

It’s not negotiable.

I love when tumblr drafts fully start to lag and my macbook lights on fire because the post is too fucking long. I have so much to say about this chapter but I think I will just make a separate post entirely about this. Because I’m. I’m really proud tbh not to toot my own horn but I think I kind of maybe a little bit ate with this one.

Fun fact, that you may or may not believe: The Carmen scenes? Not planned. Fully did not plan to do any of that. This was going to be entirely Mikey flashbacks, originally— There might’ve ended up being more honestly, if I didn’t add Carmen, but after Something to Do when I started writing I was like,,, these cats aren’t cooking, Carmen’s side is missing a second beat before the third. And so, here it is.

I know everyone was expecting a depression week for Carmen— And to be fair, I also kind of was. But I then thought, nah. They’d done too much work, and I don’t think Rich/Syd would allow him to wallow. Like get your shit together, not for you, for her. Ugh.

Speaking of Rich and Syd— FUCK man my heart. The way their scenes from the past and present meshed together in such a deeply painful way I’m sooo SICK WITH IT!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!! Just fuckin— The way Tony was too scared to reach out to Syd but it’s SO FUCKING OBVIOUS that Syd was on the other side of Chicago thinking the exact same shit i’m SO SICK!!!!! I’M HACKING UP A LUNG HERE!!

Anyways it’s my birthday send me well wishes and an essay on what you thought I’d love to hear it. I know this was a tough one. Thank you for getting through it with me lmao. Tag list! Hope I didn’t forget anyone, pwease note i ownwee add pweople who swend theiw twoughts— It also may or may not hurt my feelings when people don’t read this text at the bottom. It might. It might a lot.

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #carmen x oc #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

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roses-for-rosalyn · 8 months ago

Text

Cowboys

Ellie x reader

Part 1

Part 3

Summary: a trip to the local saloon? With a man?!

Wc: 2.1 k (shorter ik sorry)

For the ao3 girlies

Cw: cowboy! Ellie x fem! reader, drinking, reader gets drunk, Jesse (just a little side character), mentions of domestic violence, reader has trauma!, reader has scars, lesbian touching and yearning, lots of talking

Minors DNI (fr)

Seriously there’s some descriptions of abuse here y’all I tried to keep it vague, but it’s important I promise! I am not the kind of author who gives the reader trauma for literally no reason. That being said if this isn’t your cup of tea I’ll see you in another chapter or different fic!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK

You wake up with the sun. The warm light forced its way through your eyelids, refusing to be ignored. You got up and attempted to get dressed as quietly as possible. You use the reflection of a steel pan to pin your hair back.

You liked the mornings, normally you were very alone, but even with company, it was a peaceful time. Golden light filters through your windows, everything and everyone is still beginning to wake up. It’s quiet.

A face appears behind yours in the reflection of the pan.

“Mornin.” Her voice was a bit low and gravelly.

“Mornin, where are you off to today?” You finish flattening out the last little stubborn hairs and turn towards her. Her eyes were still heavy with sleep, and bruises had begun to form on her face, but with the way she carried herself, you would never know what happened last night.

“Was thinking of going to the next town over, I have a few people to talk to.” You grab your boots from the floor and sit in the same wooden chair Ellie had last night. You try not to think about how close you were or how warm she felt against your fingertips as you lace up your shoes.

“You’re lucky you have that bandana.” You stand up and grab the hem of the fabric. “You’re a bit of a mess.” You pinch her chin between your thumb and forefinger and force her to turn to the side, and for some reason she lets you. You turn her the other way, inspecting the intensity of the bruises. “These’ll be gone in a week.” You brush your finger over a particularly deep purple bruise on her jaw, she flinches a bit even at your featherlight touch. “This one maybe two.”

“Whatever you say doc,” she replies with a laugh. You let go of her chin and head towards the door.

“I have to go, but you’ll be back before dark right?” Ellie just nods and you leave, hoping that she does actually come back.

** **

Today when you’re locking up the schoolhouse you hear a different voice, “Hi there, sunshine!”

You turn around and see Jesse. You usually didn’t see him at this time of day. He walks towards you like he has something to say.

“What’re you up to today?” He asks with a charming smile on his face.

“I was just going to head home and have dinner. How about you?” You really didn’t care to hear his plans for the day, but you had to be polite.

“I was hopin’ you might accompany me to a show at Buckhorn tonight?” His eyes are hopeful, he reminded you of a little boy, he hadn’t had the same life you did. You had really hoped you wouldn’t have to deal with him asking to court you, not completely sure you could manage to say no. You didn’t have a good reason for refusing, and who knows what he would say about you if you denied him.

“Um, alright, I suppose I could go. I can’t stay too late though, I don’t like ridin’ in the dark.” You manage a smile. Jesse looks like he is just barely keeping himself from jumping up and down in celebration.

He nods, “I will make sure you get home safe and sound darlin’. Suppose we should head on over then.” You untie your horse and take her by the lead, walking beside Jesse to the saloon.

You didn’t have much to talk about, the conversation was mostly small talk. You let him ramble on about his journeys to Santa Fe, the Apaches he’s encountered, hostile cowboys, thieves. No one ever actually threatened him, just passed by, but with the way he told the stories you would think he would be covered in scars and bruises.

You finally make it to the saloon, Jesse orders you both whiskey. You down it like a shot and Jesse seems surprised, but not appalled like you would have expected. “You want another?” he asks with raised eyebrows and a laugh.

“Yes please.” You smile up at him, a little more genuine. Maybe you could have fun, with enough liquor in your system you could get along with anyone. Drunk you was charming, magnetic, bubbly, men usually tolerated that a little better. Plus the drinks were free.

The band starts playing and you pull Jesse out on the wooden dancefloor. The music pulls at your limbs. As you dance with him you feel smooth as water, the more you drink the smoother you feel. Soon enough you’re leaning into his chest, swaying to the music. The night went by in a blur. You are at the bar getting another round of drinks when you see a familiar set of eyes appear at the entrance.

She makes a beeline towards you, shouldering people out of the way as she approaches. Her eyes look angry, but all she does is brush her hand down your arm like she was making sure you were real.

“I couldn’t find you.” She says, and you swear everything and everyone else melts away as she speaks.

She was looking for you.

“I was here.” You say with a drunk smile, relieved to see her. “With Jesse.” you point over to him. She doesn’t even bother to look. You lean in towards her to whisper, “He’s pretty boring, but he gave me free drinks.” you hold up a glass of whiskey as proof, slightly swaying with the movement.

“I’m gonna take you home.” She says gently.

“That would be very nice, I’m sure Jesse wouldn’t want to take me all the way out there. Just let me go tell him.” You haven’t stopped smiling since you saw her.

“Alright,” she nods, “I’ll be waitin’ for ya by the door.”

You stumble over to him, “Jesse, I gotta head home.”

“Ok let me go get my-”

“No need, my bodyguard over there is takin’ me home.” You point to the masked cowgirl by the door. Jesse looks at you, confused.

“I’ll explain it to you another time, I promise I’m safe with him.” You pat him on the shoulder for reassurance.

“Can I at least talk to him? So I can know you’re safe.” Well at least he seemed to actually care about you, not just the concept of you.

“I don’t see why not,” you grab his hand, it’s large and rough, his palm felt like sandpaper against yours, “follow me.” You lead him towards the cowgirl. She’s standing with her arms crossed, observing the drunkards surrounding her.

“Hi,” her head snaps towards the sound of your voice, her eyes soften.

“Hello darlin’,” she runs her hand alongside your arm again. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her touch. She looks behind you at the man you’ve brought over to her. “Who’s this?”

“This is Jesse,” you pull him so he’s standing alongside you causing him to stumble a bit. You giggle. “He wanted to make sure you were gettin’ me home safe. Said he wanted to talk to you.”

Ellie reaches out her hand to shake his, “M’ Joel,” she says in a gruff voice. Jesse’s eyes widen a bit. You hadn’t heard her man voice yet, it was a little silly. “Why don’t you go wait by my horse darlin’? I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Um, alright.” You didn’t love being booted from a conversation like that, but you were starting to get tired and your feet were starting to ache.

You walked out of the saloon to Ellie’s horse. You feel light and heavy at the same time. Then you remember you brought your own horse here. Your thoughts were so jumbled.

You walk over to grab her, untying her lead after a bit of a struggle. Figuring you would pony her over to the house. You would not ride horseback drunk. Again.

By the time you get back to Ellie’s horse she’s waiting for you. She grabs the lead from your hands and helps you up onto the horse. You were going to try like hell to remember the feeling of her hands on your hips.

“Thank you good sir,” you say with a giggle. She just shakes her head and mounts the horse, grabbing your horses lead before her horse begins to trot away from the saloon towards the quiet desert.

You probably couldn’t help the way you leaned against her back, pressing your body to hers. She was so warm. Your hands wrapped nice and tight around her waist and she hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even moved. She stayed sitting right up staring straight ahead. You couldn’t bring yourself to remember why you shouldn’t be doing this. You only knew that you wanted to and that’s what mattered right now.

“Who’s Joel?” You asked, cheek pressed against her leather coat.

“He’s- he was a friend.” She can barely disguise the sorrow in her voice.

“Was he your husband or somethin’?” Questions tend to just pour out of you in this state with no regard for the person you’re asking.

“No, no he was a good friend.”

“Mm, you’re lucky you never had a husband.”

“Why?”

“Well I don’t know if all husbands are like how mine was, but I wouldn’t try it again, just in case.”

“What happened?” You let the sound of the horses hooves hitting the dirt path fill the silence for a moment. You hadn’t really told anyone what happened in your house on the edge of town, where no one could hear you or see you.

“Well, I’ll start at the beginning I suppose. My daddy got sick, real sick and he wanted me to have a man to take care of me after he was gone. So I married a man he chose for me. I didn’t know him, I barely saw him before we got married. But I wanted to make sure my daddy could die knowing I’d be taken care of, so I did it. I still regret going through with it.” You nuzzle your cheek into her back, trying to get impossibly closer. “I still don’t like to think about our wedding night.”

“I’m sorry darlin’ you don’t have to-”

“No I want to, I haven’t said anything to anyone about this before. Kinda feels nice, I feel lighter. Anyways, we moved into that tiny house. It didn’t take long for him to get mean, real mean. Since we lived so far away, no one could hear the screamin’ and yellin’. I still have some scars from that him, that’s why I had that medical kit for you when you got hurt. I’ve had to clean myself up more times than I’d like to admit.” You let out an empty laugh.

“Where is he now?” Ellie’s voice has an anger in it that was terrifying, the type that was calm and sure. She knew exactly how she would remedy it.

“Well, every time he would hurt me I would threaten to shoot ‘em. He would laugh in my face like I had told some sort of fucked up joke. Here let me show you somethin’.” You hike up your dress, exposing the large scar on your thigh. You grab Ellie’s hand from the reins and place it on the Scar, her fingertips run gently across it, like she would hurt you if she pressed too hard. She traces around the jagged raised skin, it was like she was trying to put a picture of it together in her head. “The night he did that I shot him right in the chest. He was an evil, evil man. No one missed him. He’s buried about 500 feet from the house, his grave is unmarked.”

You feel Ellie’s body relax a bit. “That’s good. You did good.” She’s still absentmindedly running her hand along your thigh. The feeling made your breath hitch. Your whole body grows hot. You hadn’t ever felt anything like that. “He deserved it, I hope you know that.”

“Still doesn’t feel good though, didn’t make me feel any better when he was dead. The only thing that changed was that I was safe again.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when her hand slowly leaves your thigh, pulling your dress back down for you.

“Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. Sometimes it feels like the only solution though.”

“Yeah it does.”

** **

You’re half asleep by the time the horse stops in front of your house. You barely manage to lift your head up, but somehow you get off the horse.

“Go on inside, I’ll get the horses settled.” She didn’t have to tell you twice.

You were halfway to the house when you remembered, “Ellie,”

“Yes?”

“Come and sleep inside tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Taglist: @elliewilliamgfooc @bready101 @sakiigami @wishbones999 @a-little-bit-of-everybody @ellabssweetheart @lily-fics-11

If ur name is crossed out it wouldn’t let me tag u

Lmk what yall think! Notes, comments and reposts always appreciated! Thank you for all the support!

Ch. 3

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #cowboy!ellie #western! au #cowboy!au #cowboys #cowgirl #the last of us 2

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mistress-ofmagic · 7 months ago

Text

Around the Realms in 80 days - chapter 22

Pairing: Reader x Loki

Story summary: You have fallen through a portal during the convergence into Asgard and come face to face with Thor, and his brother Loki. With no way to return, you must travel with the two men and their hoard of asgardian soldiers to get back home. Things get from bad to worse when you have to share a tent with the god of mischief himself.

Notes:

Okay I don't know if any of you guys are still out there and still wanting an update for this story but I'm providing one anyway! I really do hope that you're still with me (and if you can't remember what happened that feels like a good time for a re-read right??)

Read this story on a03!

find all parts to this story on Tumblr here:

You’d had better days, you mused.

Better weeks, months, years…

“If you continue pulling that face it will get stuck and you’ll get wrinkles” Loki chimed behind you.

You glared up at him, scowling even harder out of spite.

He grinned down at you.

After Loki’s admission two days ago, his mood had been…interesting. He had stayed beside you in the hospital when he could, but he kept swapping between being distant and being close.

No real change there then, you thought.

You hadn’t brought the whole being a frost Giant thing up again, despite your thousands of questions in case you pushed him too far and he got annoyed with you and decided to stop visiting.

Now however, he seemed to be in a good mood although you felt that had more to do with the fact he was currently pushing you around in a wheelchair.

His eyes had lit up when the nurses had suggested it, despite the fact you felt well enough to walk really and for most of your journey you would just be in the lift anyway. You had protested multiple times but now Loki had got the idea in his head there was really no persuading him otherwise.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asked, too jovial for your liking.

You put your tongue out and rolled your eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking.

“I saw that you little chit.”

He rocked the wheelchair like he was going to tip you out.

“LOKI!” You yelled, gripping to the sides of your chair.

The lift attendant had looked pale when you’d first stepped in, and now he looked rather green.

Loki roared with laughter.

“Oh come on darling, you really think I would throw a vulnerable maiden out of her chair?”

Before having to face that your answer to that question might actually be no and that you knew Loki would never do anything to hurt you, or the fact that this was the third time he had called you darling, the doors of the lift opened onto the floor where you were meeting with Stark and the Avengers.

Apparently Tony had wanted to wait until you were a bit better before doing a debrief on what had gone down on Muspelheim.

Loki wheeled you down small corridor and into the large meeting room. Like many of the rooms in Stark towers, the windows were completely glass and looking down onto the city below. It was as far as being outside as you had got in the past few days and you stared out, longingly.

Distracting you slightly from the view, was the Avengers sat around the table. Thor was there of course, as well as Captain America, Natasha and Dr Bruce Banner. A smaller cohort that had welcomed you in when you had first arrived.

Natasha seemed to assess you with cool eyes, but Bruce shot you a sympathetic look which you felt was a lot to do with the fact you were wearing a very cool and flattering nightie with Shrek’s face all over it as it was the only thing that could fit over your bandages.

Loki wheeled you into a space that had been left chair-less for you as he took the one next to you.

Tony gave you a tired smile.

“How you feeling kid?”

“Better thank you. And thank you for the care on your wards too!”

He brushed you off with a wave of his hand.

“I suppose I should thank you for saving Rock of Ages life too.” Tony shot Loki a disgruntled look. “He is helping us with this situation after all.” He said, as if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. “Its nice to see you taking your babysitting duties very seriously, although next time I’d appreciate it if you stay away from certain death, he’s not worth it.”

Loki gave a half shrug, “that’s one thing we agree on.”

You scowled again.

“Plus now you are officially hired as a member of my workforce, it reflects badly on me.”

You snorted, “If the babysitter club ever want a new member i’ll be the first in line. And don’t worry, I have no desire to face certain death ever again.”

Although I would save Loki again, a little voice in your head added that you pushed down into the depths of your subconscious.

“So, Wonderland’s still with us, but we still no nothing about the current alien threat to Earth.” Stark said gloomily.

“Well, we found out Surtur’s made some sort of deal with someone to er…cause something.” Thor supplied.

Stark pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Next to nothing then. Natasha?”

She shrugged. “Nothing at any of the reported sites, no sign of anything coming in or out.”

“We did learn that they are taking humans for something.” You piped up.

Everyone stared at you and you immediately regretted speaking at all.

“One of the fire demons told me.” You mumbled.

“Is there no help from your…lot?” Steve asked to Thor.

“Sadly, Ragnarok is a myth across the other realms too, not just on Midgard. There will be many that don’t take it seriously seriously. And, no one would be bothered enough about a few missing humans to get involved in an intergalactic war.” Loki shrugged.

Stark scoffed “A few?”

He pulled up a page a hologram of various news stories over the past few weeks, of humans going missing, seemingly vanishing without a trace.

It was worse than you thought, and it seemed the rates where going up by the day.

“The fire demon I spoke with, he told me I could go with him, somewhere where they could make me more powerful.” You spoke again.

Tony and Bruce swapped concerned faces.

“Did he say anything else?”

“No, not really, just promises of a greater future or something.”

“Well it might not be much but, good work.” Steve said, and flashed you an all American pearly smile and you blushed in spite of yourself.

“Yes, Latte has proved herself to be truly courageous on this trip.” Thor agreed.

“Oh well, I don’t know about all that.” You murmured feeling your face burn up. It was only an accident anyway that you had found anything out, it’s not like you’d stormed up to a fire demon and demand he speak to you.

Nevertheless, you were only a few beats away from kicking your feet and giggling but you refrained yourself.

Loki muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “suck up” and you glared at him, taking a long swig of water to cool yourself down.

“You reap what you sow kid, I’ll be recruiting you to do further missions with Loki if you’re not careful. Who knew the worlds rudest goth could make friends? And a lowly earthling at that.” Stark challenged.

You tensed. You weren’t really 100% sure if Loki actually did consider you a friend, or if he would take offence at the insinuation.

But Loki leaned back in his chair, “We are friends, friends with benefits.”

You choked on your water and it spilled down Shreks face as Thor gave you a pat on the back that nearly sent your lungs through your mouth.

While you recovered no one knew what to say, Steve and Bruce looked alarmed, you weren’t sure if that was at Lokis statement or the fact you had spat out half a glass of water and Starks mouth was hung wide open, his eyes open comically large, Natasha looked mildly amused.

“Its not…” You said between coughing. “That’s not true…Loki…Loki doesn’t know what that term means…he…he can’t….”

You turned to him.

“Where did you even hear that being said?” You spluttered.

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You deny that we are friends in front of Stark and his goonies?”

“I’m not denying were friends Loki, I’m denying were friends with benefits. That doesn’t mean what you think it does it means something really specific on Earth. What…What benefits does our friendship bring?”

Loki shuffled in his seat “Well…you have taught me how to use a midgardian communication device and I have taught you…”

You cut him off “Great, expect thats not what friends with benefits means here it means…” You blushed heavily again.

“It means friends who…” you tried again.

Loki was watching you carefully with an eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth starting to twitch and your uncomfortableness.

“Friends who fuck.” Natasha finished off helpfully.

You felt your face grow even redder if that were possible.

“Ah.” Loki said, in a measured tone although you thought you noticed a very light blush across his pale complexion. “I understand now that that might have been misleading.”

“Well thank God we cleared that up.” Stark sighed, “I thought we were going to have to admit you to the psych ward instead of the burns ward.”

You stared down to avoid eye contact with Loki, feeling a bit awkward.

“What’s the plan?” Steve asked.

“Asgardians?” Stark aimed at Thor.

“We won’t get anything more information from Surtur…”

“The people of this planet are disappearing! Into thin air! And some Alien thingies are the culprit! How can I be the protector of the human race if I don’t even have any leads!” Stark yelled.

Thor and Steve swapped looks.

“There might be more information we can gather across the other realms” Thor shrugged, “If the true enemy behind this is thought not to be human then they could potentially come from another Realm.”

“We would have no idea where to start though, it’s not like the nine realms are a small area to cover.” Loki argued.

“Doctor Foster does a lot of research into the nine realms, will she have any information for us?” Tony asked Thor hopefully.

“I…I can ask her to see what she has found.” Thor placated.

“In the meantime, we have our best scientists searching the skies for any sign of alien invasions.” Bruce added. “Tony I’m sure we will find something, we’ve got people going to sites where people have disappeared and looking into traces and signals that have been left behind, something is bound to flag up. And the researchers will keep monitoring the fire demons.”

Stark sighed. And you got a feeling that until this thing was settled he was never be satisfied, knowing the people of Earth were in danger.

“Meeting adjourned or whatever… I need a fucking drink.”

***

“13 down, 7 letters, a drawing intended to explain how something happens.”

“Diagram?”

Oliver nodded, writing it down.

“Okay… 5 across, 5 letters, spaghetti for example that’s got to be pasta…what about this one, 8 letters, endurance.”

“Stamina? No wait, that’s only 7…patience?”

“Yeah, has to be.”

It was the day after Starks meeting. Loki had wheeled you back into your hospital room after the meeting and then he’d had to then leave pretty sharpish, stating he had something he needed to do although you wondered if he still felt awkward about the whole friends with benefits thing. Then again, you wondered if Loki ever really felt awkward about anything, or if he was immune to embarrassment.

After the meeting you had been so damn tired that by the time he’d wheeled you back you’d been nearly asleep. The meeting was the most you had done since the attack and it had exhausted you.

Plus you were still pretty drowsy from all the pain medication you were on. You’d expected him to call over a nurse but instead he’d actually gotten you the medication you needed and then to your extreme surprise, he’d picked you up from your chair bridal style and put you into bed.

You were almost too sleepy to have noticed what was going on, but shockingly you were certain he had left a featherlight kiss on your forehead before he left.

Maybe you had imagined it in your sleepy state, after all he hadn’t been in to see you today.

The nurse had visited today and checked you over, changing your bandages. She had assured you your burns were healing nicely, and Loki’s fast thinking of applying his cold skin to your stomach and chest had saved most of your skin resulting in you only needing a smallish emergency skin graft.

You’d also been joined by Oliver, who had come prepared for the nurses recommendation of resting as much as possible by providing cross-words.

“You’re pretty good at these.” He gave his lopsided grin.

“Symptoms of a misguided youth I’m afraid. I might not have gone to Harvard but I am pretty nifty with a crossword.”

“Harvard’s overrated.”

“Alright for you to say Mr Ivy League.”

Oliver chuckled. “Wait this is a cryptic one, it says ‘to tantalise the left is a plant.’

“Huh? Wait let me see.”

Oliver stood up from the chair and brought the book over to you. He perched himself on the edge of your hospital bed and you moved over to give him more room.

“Do you need any more medication?” Oliver suddenly asked.

“I should be good thank you.” You smiled at him.

Man he was so sweet. Loki had done the same thing yesterday but still. It was nice to have someone else here who cared about you.

You caught his blue eyes. He had nice looking eyes you noticed, but they missed the tint of green you were used to seeing in Loki’s eyes.

Actually, why where you thinking about Lokis eyes at all?

Oliver placing his hand over yours on the bed brought you back to the present moment.

“I was thinking, maybe when you’re feeling better I could take you….”

Before Oliver could finish his sentence, the door to your room opened and Loki strode in.

Loki took in your close proximity to Oliver, and the fact you were holding hands and his eyes narrowed.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and for some reason your natural instinct was to jump back sheepishly from Oliver. Despite having no reason at all to feel guilt, you still felt…something.

“I had come to see how you were faring, but I see you have company already.” Those blue/green eyes you had just been thinking about were harsher than you had seen them in a while.

“We were just doing cross words.” You said, lamely.

Instead of keeping your mouth shut you continued like an imbecile. “Erm were stuck on a cryptic one if you wanted to help…”

“And intrude on this…personal moment.” He sneered.

“That wasn’t…I mean we were just…” You started and then sat up further in bed, trying to look authoritative, which was harder than you might think for someone attached to an IV drip. “Actually I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Oh, I see.” His voice was cold, and it felt like the room got colder too.

“What do you see?”

Loki ignored you.

“Get out.” He directed at Oliver.

Your temper started to rise.

“Hey, he doesn’t have to leave we were in the middle of something.”

“Look, um maybe I should just go.” Oliver spoke up squeezing your hand before standing up.

“I’ll leave the book here for you for when you get bored. I hope you feel better, I’ll come visit again soon and bring some more stuff.” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Kudos to Oliver, he walked past Loki out of the room without crying or screaming.

After he had left, Loki breezed into the room and arranged the flowers at the table at the bottom of the table like he hadn’t just yelled at your friend to leave.

“Dude what is wrong with you?” You directed at Loki. “I am allowed to have friends!”

He rolled his eyes.

“He clearly wants to be more than friends.”

You made a funny noise in the back of your throat. You wouldn’t be totally against Oliver having more than friendly feelings, a distraction from these insane feelings for Loki that keep creeping up out of no where might be a good thing, right?

Not that you had any feelings for Loki, obviously.

Loki studied you closely before clearing his throat.

“Are you and this mortal…friends with benefits?”

“Loki!” You glared at him.

His facial expression remained calm as he continued staring at you.

“I’m simply asking."

“No! No, God I wish you had never learnt what that term meant. Also I am sleeping next to you every night where would I find the time?”

“Yes, you are aren’t you.” He said, too smugly for your liking.

“Although I do have every right to explore…you know, that side of things with someone if I want to.”

His eyes narrowed again, and stood up taller.

“We are in the middle of a crisis here. Is now the right time to be engaging in a dalliance?”

“You can’t be serious!” You said indignantly.

“I’m being very serious!” He matched your tone.

"Are you giving me a lecture right now on my love life?” When he didn’t say anything you continued.

“You don’t even care about humans, why are you even bothered about this crisis suddenly?”

“You’re being ridiculous, you can’t seriously mean to engage with this… mere mortal. ”

“I’m being ridiculous? You’re being ridiculous! In case you forgot, I happen to be a mere mortal too!”

Loki kind of did look taken a back for a second, as if he had actually forgotten that.

“What I get up to is not even any of your business.” You told him

“Fine.” He sneered, walking towards the door.

“Fine!” You shouted back.

He slammed the door behind him as you threw your puzzle book at him.

“Ah!” You screamed to yourself.

The cheek of that asshole to have a go at you for letting yourself engage in some dating when he was the one that slept with Ylva while you were touring around Asgard.

You tossed and turned around in your bed, but eventually the drowsiness kicked back in and you managed to fall asleep.

***

One moment, you were fast asleep, the next moment you heard an explosion. You sat up quickly, disorientated and confused. Another explosion sounded and you got up and ran to the window.

You blinked and blinked again.

A piece of metal fell seemingly from the sky and you looked up.

The tower was under attack.

Notes: I hoped you guys enjoyed this and are still liking the story!!

Taglist:

@creationsbyme @kikster606 @slytherinintj13 @th0rswh0res @huntress-artemiss @jannieka394 @stefffrs @misswimberly @thedistractedagglomeration @yoongissidebitchh @purplekitten30 @mischief2sarawr @johnmurphys-sass

@lonadane @imalovernotahater @lokisgoodgirl @laliceee @dlwrish @paetonnn @lovelysizzlingbluebird @reas-writing @buttercupcookies-blog @acidcasualties @alialiclouds

@buckybarneslovesteve @evelyn-rathmore

@Im-a-slut-for-fluff @jainaeatsstars @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic

#loki #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki of asgard

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zeroclockk · 5 months ago

Text

— ⋆˙⟡ Love Your Feeling (JJK) || Chapter two

- Making Mistakes₊˚⊹♡

He looks in my eyes, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You look good today” he says. That's it, I kiss him.

Pair: jjk x femOC, college students, best friends

Word count: 6.6k

Warning: this chapter includes explicit scenes⚠️

masterlist || taglist

!Friends to Lovers, Protective Brother, Secret Dating, Friends with Benefits, Angst, Mature content, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, Smut, Mentions of Alcoholism and Abuse

——————————————————————₊˚⊹♡

It's a perfect warm spring day, perfect for a party. I see the bus coming into my peripheral vision, looking up from my phone. AirPods in my ears, blasting some ransom hype playlist Spotify made for me. I check in and sit down.

Last party I've been to must've been a few weeks ago, so needless to say I'm quite excited for tonight. Need to get my mind off of school for a second. The bus ride feels slow. Arriving at Jia's and Nabi's place, a little before 6.30.

They only live 5 minutes away from campus. Bought their own little apartment when they enrolled here. It's nothing fancy, right outside of the campus area, into an alley. It's mostly 20+ year olds living here since it's so close to school.

They all got to know each other over time. To the left are the residential units. They look like the big Minecraft houses. The two story oak plank houses, with double doors, staircase in the middle and a farm in front of it.

It's basically like that. Big two story house, staircase in the middle of it, leading to two doors. One on the left and one on the the right.

It's basically split in four parts. Jia and Nabi live on the left upper floor. The bottom floor belongs to someone else.

On the right side you have the exact same layout, only mirrored. The person who has the top floor is blessed with an attic, whilst the bottom floor can enjoy a little bit of garden space.

It might look small, but it's actually not. It'll surprise you how spacious it is. There's 3 of these units pasted next to each other, Counting a left and right side of a unit one.

On the right side of the alley there's a convenience store. At the end of the path it curves left around the store, to access either the big road or more units. Never been there, so I wouldn’t really know.

Jia and Nabi live in unit one. the first one to your right, as you walk through the alley. I go up the stairs, turn my body to the left and ring the doorbell.

Staring at the welcome mat beneath my feet, I hear some rummaging behind the door. At the same time I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and I look to see who’s approaching me. It’s Minnie.

"HEYY!" I say opening my arms to hug her. "Missed you yesterday you know" I smiled.

"Sorry" she giggles, smile from ear to ear.

We hear a big thud from behind the door, turning our heads to where the sound came from. "Ouch"

I try not to laugh, pressing my lips together and covering them with my hand. Then the door swings open. "FINALLY!" Jia says

"We're on time Gi" I say setting foot in their house.

“EVEN ME!” Minnie says. She does tend to get late.

"Expected you earlier" she says walking past us, running upstairs. Both Minnie and I follow her, to the attic. They've got two bedrooms, a bathroom, living room and a kitchen, on the first floor.

They turned the entire attic into a walk in closet, devided into two parts. One side for Nabi, vanity on the left wall. Other side for Jia, mirroring Nabi's side.

"So.. I was thinking" Jia starts "Black denim, mini skirts" she smiles.

"I hear ya" I say.

She starts frantically looking through her closet. "We need to look hot and sexy, but also casual"

"Gigi it's just a house party" Minnie rolls her eyes, sitting down in her vanity chair.

"Kai's house party" she says "Wrong.. the football teams house party" She answers. Tilting her head back, dyed platinum blonde hair hanging over the back rest. "Yeah and Kai is gonna be there"

She continues pulling out pieces of clothing from her closet, occasionally moving to Nabi's side to find specific pieces of clothing. Slowly creating 4 different, matching outfits.

"Where's Nabi at?" I wonder. "Oh! She's getting groceries, she's cooking pasta" she answers. Head buried in between the clothes.

There's not really much to do for me. Nabi's in charge of dinner, and Jia's in charge of the outfits.

Outfit one:

Classic black denim mini skirt, has a light wash to it. White crop top on top of it. White socks, and platform converses for foot wear.

Outfit two:

Same classic black denim mini skirt, with the light wash to it. A black crop top. And again the same white sock, and platform converses.

Outfit three:

Black denim mini skirt again, it has a star on the right side of it. Classic black crop top. White socks, black adidas campus shoes.

Outfit four:

Black denim mini skirt, this time it ruffles midway through. Instead of the usual tight fit. White crop top. Again white socks, white new balance 550's. It's certainly matching.

"This one's for Minnie" she says. Grabbing the stacked pieces of clothing in one hand, the shoes in the other.

"Ruffles for you" she smiles, eyes sparkling. Stretching her arms out, handing her the outfit.

"No platform for you two since you're the tallest ones" she once smiles again. Chin down a little. Eyes up, looking at Minnie through her lashes.

It's true, we're not specifically 'tall'. Nabi and Jia are just really short. Had fought about it many times to see who’s taller. Since Nabi and I only have a height difference of two centimeters. The rest doesn’t need discussion, Minnie sticks out compared to the rest of us. And Jia well… you can certainly see she’s the shortest. Shes 153cm, only wears platforms to appear taller. Minnie is right about 167cm. I'm next reaching 160cm.

She walks back to where she's put the different outfits, then we hear the door open. It must be Nabi coming back from the store, she's a really good cook.

There was this time. I couldnt to stay home, for many reasons. Ran to their unit, crying. Phone was smashed, cards left at home. I was unable to pay for the bus, took me a while to get there. They took me in for about 3 weeks, until I decided it was enough. Couldn't keep living under their roof for ever.

Nabi even gave up her room for me, slept in a bed with Jia the entire time. They told me not to worry, and that I'm welcome anytime. Just felt like I was being a burden sometimes, when they had guests of family over.

Needless to say I know what her cooking tastes like, and it never disappoints.

"NABS COME UP HERE, BRING WINE!" Jia yells, from her closet. And not much later, Nabi comes upstairs. Four wine glasses, and a bottle of rosé in her hands.

"Heyy!!" She says to us. Lifting the bottle of wine up in the air, swinging it a little as she smiles. Scurrying over to Jia's vanity, the one Minnie's sitting at again.

She places down the four glasses, and fills them with the rosé.

"Ohh we're matching matching?" She asks. looking up at Jia, giving her, her glass.

"What? How could you tell?" I say laughing within the words. Utterly confused, I mean there's still three outfits lying there.

She turns around, looking at me. "Do you really think she'd give you the platforms? It’s an easy giveaway, you're second tallest" she explains. It’ll always be a petty competition. You’re taller, you do it! Whilst the gap isn’t even that big. Jia shrugs, satisfied smile plastered on her face “What can I say, she knows me” I gotta give her that.

Then Nabi walks over to me, gives me one of the glasses she's holding and sits next to me on the stool. The kind of stools you see in one of those fancy walk in closets, I guess you could call this a fancy walk in closet.

"Sooo.. Minnie" I laugh, leaning over to look at her, past Nabi. "Who's the lucky guy?" I raise my eye brows. She groans, leaning her head back once again.

"You know we'll find out one day, especially with Jia's detective skills" Nabi says.

"Oh please let me know once you do, I'll enjoy the privacy in the mean time" she answers, sipping her wine. Everyone just sighs, clicking their tongues.

"Okay okay, calm down" she says, Signing with her hands to 'sush' us. "He's tall, black hair, broad shoulders, he's got thick lips and is utterly handsome, he's funny, a gentleman and he goes to our school" she says.

"Oh god, do we know him?" I ask. "Stop no this is so exciting!!" Jia exclaims. Minnie just stays quiet, keeps on sipping her wine.

"C'mon, show us a picture" I say, but all she does is just shake his head. "Someday babes, just not today" she laughs.

"Enough about mystery boy, you guys should get changed."

"Here" Jia says, grabbing My outfit. The one with the star on the skirt, and gives it to me.

Walks back to the two outfits that are left. Grabs the one with the black top, and gives it to Nabi. Getting all of us changed, Jia then does our hair and makeup. Doesnt forget to drench herself in glitter spray, shes always so glittery. It suits her personality though.

All of us are already have a hard time getting out the glitter she leaves on us, let alone if we spray ourselves aswell.

Nabi cooks us dinner, chicken pasta. Already drooling at the name of it. Usually with a bunch of garlic, but not today. They're planning on getting it on with their crushes, what worse than to smell like a humanied piece of garlic. It tastes delicious though, even with the lack of garlic.

——————————————————————————

"Alrightyy let's go!" Nabi cheers

We all down the shots infront of us. Shake away the burning sensation in our throats, and walk towards the door. Asses nearly out, but still casual enough for it to not be weird.

I secretly I hope the outfit grabs the attention of a certain someone, won't admit it to them though. Though I wear mini skirts more often, it’s nothing special for me.

We walk over the big of campus. Dark out, all four of our arms intertwined with each other. I can hear the party's music from far, the cheers of people. It makes me feel excited, sounds like tonight will be fun.

Jia is immediately welcomed by many people, won't take her long to find Kai.

I look around the room, filled with people. They've got drinks in their hands, talking to their friends. Some are even dancing.

It doesn't take me long to spot the kitchen. Sometimes I think my kitchens dirty, this takes it to a whole other level. I grab Minnie's hand from behind me, sign to her that I know where the alcohols at.

We walk past Jia and Nabi, who are still saying hi to random people. I place my hands on front of me, on the kitchen counter. Stretched out, leaning on them.

"So, what you want 'm lady?" I ask Minnie.

"I have a strong desire for a vodka sunset ma'am" she replies. Pursing her lips, keeping a formal tone to her voice. "It is my pleasure" I smile, turning around on my heels.

Found the orange juice, in the fridge. and some strawberry syrup next to it, on the counter. Vodka wasn't difficult to find, and so I have all ingredients to make a 'vodka sunset', my specialty.

I see Jia and Nabi walking up to us, automatically assume they'll want sunsets too. Put them in front of them, as they sit down.

“Welcome ladies!” I hear behind me.

The look on Jia's and Nabi's face gives away easily who's standing behind me, so I turn around. Keeping my cool, hear absolutely going insane.

"Hello boys" I say, we all smile. "Craving some sunsets? It's my specialty" I look up at Taehyung standing in front of me. He’s so gorgeous, even up close. As much as you can call it 'in front' though, they're not that close.

They're standing there as if they're in a movie, clearly popular guys. Taehyung, Kai and Jimin. He laughs "Sure" And so I make three more sunsets. I could get addicted to that laugh, feel like I’m gonna fall to my knees just be looking at it.

"Extra sweet for the pretty ones amongst us" I joke. Clearly flirting, as I look up into Taehyungs eyes.

We all say cheers, down our shots.

"Damn, these really are your specialty" he says. Jia and Nabi are clearly eyeing the other two boys.

"So.. you guys party a lot?" Jimin asks. Jia looks down, shes shy. Shes never really 'shy', shes the social butterfly amongst us. Seems like she might really have an eye on Kai, standing next to Jimin.

Nabi had decided to sit down on the bar stool, that's placed beside the kitchen island. Legs crossed, chin leaning on her hand. Batting her eyelashes, as Jimin speaks.

I’m standing closer to the guys, therefore decide to answer his question. "Jia does! Personally not really tho" Turning my head to look at the girls, behind me. Jia looks up. She smiles softly, and raises her hand a little.

"We noticed some.. new followings on insta" I say teasingly. Taehyung laughs a little. He looks down at the floor, his hand reaching for the back of his neck. I swear I’m going insane.

"Aha yeah.. well we noticed some fangirls so"

I try not to laugh at that, smiles obvious on my face. Close my eyes, and shake my head just a little. Before turning my heels, back to the kitchen island.

These men i swear to god.

He’s charming, Taehyung. I’ve heard the stories, girls go feral for him. Talking so casually to him like this, makes me feel as if I have a chance with him. Works me in my delusions, something I’ve dreamed of for months now.

"Another round?" I look around myself, everyone agrees. So I make 7 new sunsets. We talk, we have fun. Nabi started talking to Jimin, finally. And Jia to Kai. Minnie wondered off, probably meeting her boyfriend somewhere.

——————————————————————————

"So why haven't we spoken before" he laughs. "I don't know" i respond, rolling my eyes playfully.

"Maybe because I don't want all of the girls in school to hate me! I don't know our status are just too different I guess" I laugh. It's true. He's a popular school jock, I'm a well.. a normal student.

"Jia is quite popular, could've gotten to us through her for sure" he answers. Sorta is what happened. If it wasn't for Nabi and Jia's fangirling, i wouldnt have sat here.

We're sat on a couch at this point. It's late, don't know what time though. It's still full, it's a Saturday so I don't expect anyone to leave soon.

Taehyung is sat next to me, my legs over his lap. Too far gone to go insane, we're chatting nicely. Some girls walking past have eyed me, but the amounts of alcohol I've had by now makes me not care about that.

With the stress of all the homework and tests I've been having, I feel like I'm allowed to treat myself. "You want another drink?" I say, getting up from the couch.

"Oh no I'm alright" he says. I get up, and walk back to the kitchen again.

Working myself through the crowd of people, there's not too many people though. Stumbling across the room, nearly tripping over my feet multiple times. I manage to get myself to the kitchen counter. "Ugh what do I fancy~"

I lean onto the counter with the palms of my hands, rocking on my feet a little. One of them red, American, cups will do. I scan the messy counter, different kinds of alcohol, different brands, different sodas.

I could kill for a vodka Red Bull actually, doesn't matter that I've probably already had enough alcohol for the day.

Can't even bother to measure my drink out, it's probably gonna taste like shit. And when I take a sip, it confirms my assumptions.. yeah tastes like shit.

I turn around, decide to make my way back to Taehyung.

This is why I hate partying. There's sweaty people crawling the place, and I don't even have to bother with the cleanup. Can't imagine what a real club is like, this is just a normal house party.

I do have to say, it loosened up my conversations with Taehyung. I'm not particularly the shy type, just don't like stepping out to others that much. Especially since Taehyung and I are in such different status levels, it would've been weird if I just randomly started speaking to him. Gosh he'd laugh in my face if I’d done that.

I never expected him to be this nice though, he seems actually interested. Well he shows interest in my private life. Looks at me a certain way that makes my cheeks burn hot. And for what reason? He doesn’t like me. We literally just met. I could definitely see him being my first boyfriend, have been.. I mean can you blame me? He’s complete and total bout-

What..

I stop my tracks, eyes wide. I feel as if I'm somewhere I shouldn't be, as if I just caught someone and should apologize profusely.

In the small amount of time it took me to get my drink and get back, he managed to move onto the next girl.. someone who's a lot easier than me apparently.

Took him too long to get into my pants and figured to just get some easy slut to do the job or something?

There's.. a girl. On his.. lap? Really?

Five minutes, FIVE MINUTES ID BEEN GONE??

God why do I even care, I've known the guy for what. Two hours? Still the short scene, makes my world spin a little.

I chug down the drink I had just gotten, and go back to the kitchen to make another one. More vodka in it than last time, tastes even more disgusting than the first one. Chugging it down, nearly gagging, hanging over the sink.

"YOO BUNNY" there's only one person who calls me that. "Didn't expect you here"

He stands next to me, ass leaning onto the counter. Arms crossed, looking into the crowd.

I look up at him, out of breath as if I just puked my brains out. Eyes pained. "You alright?" Jungkook asks.

"Uhm" I clear my throat. "Yeah no ofcourse" I say whilst shaking my head.

"Why are you here?" Stupid question, anyone can just come in and join. Don't need a special invitation or anything.

"Well, sorry for interrupting Yun. Let's dance, it'll take ur mind off of things" He tends to be be the kind of person that takes your mind off of things, rather than talking about it. If I do need to have a serious talk, he's always there for me.

He grabs my wrist, and drags me to the dance floor. There isn't really a 'dance floor', the living room has just been repurposed as one.

The world spins a tiny bit, just nothing too bad. I don't feel like I'm about to throw up anymore, like I've felt copious amounts of times. I genuinely hate it.

I have my back turned to the sofa, Taehyung and I were sitting at. I didn't check if he was still sitting there, as we walked over. But the way Jungkook shifts his gaze between me and the sofa, has me guessing that he is.

"Gon’ tell me what happened?" He asks

I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to talk about it. "Wanna make him jealous?" He then asks again. I raise my eyebrows. "Jealous?"

He doesn't say anything. He places his hands on my hips, to make me step closer. He then takes my arms, and places them on top of his shoulders behind his neck.

He placed his hands on my hips again. Moves his hips himself, swaying to the music. Guiding my hips with his hands to do the exact same thing, 'swaying to the music'.

The moment, somewhat caught me off guard. The alcohol is getting to my head, and it's making me that that Jungkook is looking a little too good tonight.

It's probably the way my stomach just turned, when I saw Taehyung there. To have someone's attention feels nice. It's dark in the room, music is blasting through my ears. And all I can seem to focus on, is the way he's so in the moment.

He seems so unbothered, faint smile on his face from the drinks he's had. The smallest trail of sweat running down the side of his neck, because of how hot it is in here. Yet he doesn't smell bad, good even.

"Yun!" He says, raising his voice just a little bit. "Huh what?" I say, shaken out of my own thoughts.

"Taehyung, he's watching" he nudges his head a little, to where Taehyung was sitting. Now knowing that Taehyung is watching, I wanted to get revenge.

Taehyung probably wouldn't even care, but atleast it's for my peace of mind. Anyone can tell the droopy, sad, expression on my face. I really just want to leave.

But still I choose to not admit to that just yet, focusing on Jungkook once again. Following his guide, to dancing together.

Though, I feel like my emotions are making him feel sad as well. "You here with someone?" I ask him.

Im done with this party, it's been an emotional roller coaster. I was having fun, and I'm letting some useless boy ruin that.

He shakes his head. "Can I stay at yours?"

I don't want to go home, be put up with Yoongi. He'll see right through me, will investigate who hurt me. Just to run off and hurt them.

On one hand, it's nice to have someone care like that. On the other hand, it hurts me too. I keep being left alone, dealing with myself. And having to take care of mum, with Yoongi ran off.

I'm just not in the mood for it tonight. Plus, I've stayed at Jungkooks house copious amounts of times.

He doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Leading me out of the house. Him up front, hand stuck out behind him to stabilize me a little.

He doesn't live too far. But walking is certainly the longer route. Will take a while.

Jungkook is definitely a better drunk, than me. I can tell by the way he looks, smells and acts, that he's had quite some drinks. Though he's still able to walk properly, act somewhat normal.

Were walking on the sidewalk, I try not to stumble. Focusing on the pavement, watching my feet closely. One foot in front of the other and switch. But it doesn't work, I trip. Face down.

"Ah!" I immediately reach for the stinging sensation on my knee. It's not terrible, nothing I'd usually cry over. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"Nayun! Are you okay?" Jungkook immediately rushes over to me. "Ah yeah, my knee just hurts."

I sit down on the ground, as Jungkook kneels beside me

He grazes his fingers over my hurt knee, blows on it. “Just a little scratch, can you walk?” He asks as he helps me up.

I’m on the verge of tears, world crashing down. As if he knows, he crouches down in front of me, signing for me to get in his back. “U sure you can handle my weight” I ask. “Yun. don’t even start, I can handle you perfectly fine” he reassures me.

I get on his back, even though I could’ve just walked myself. The gesture is nice.

Not really in the mood to talk we eventually reach his apartment. He shares it with his friend, Mingyu. He’s nice, only really see him whenever I stay over.

He sets me down on my feet in front of his apartment, and opens the door for me. “Mingyu’s not home, I can take his bed if you want”

Usually we grab 2 separate covers, and sleep in his bed.

I don’t move, don’t know why. My expression feels droopy, empty, hurt. Mustn’t look nice from a third persons perspective. Can’t seem to take my eyes off him. his fluffy hair, that’s wildly distributed because of his dancing. His big hands that are holding the door open. His pretty face that looks at me as he asks.

“Is everything okay?” Answering him feels too difficult, with what’s going on in my head. I’ve never denied the fact that he grew up to be good looking, but to observe him the way I have tonight? Were there shrooms in the pasta or something?

So I don’t answer at all. switch my gaze to look inside of his apartment, and walk in.

“Go sit on the kitchen counter” he tells me, I silently obey his words. Walking to the kitchen and sitting on the empty counter, next to the sink.

He takes a little before he walks over to me, box in his hands. Places it beside me and inspects my knee. I watch him carefully as he takes the disinfection spray, sprays it on my knee. It stings a little but I’ve felt worse.

“Hurts?” He asks looking up at me. I quickly look at me knee, pretending I hadn’t had my eyes glued on him since he started taking care of my knee. Shake me head, because it doesn’t.

He wets a cloth with warm water and dabs in on the skin, before he dries it of plasters it shut with a band aid.

Hips leaning on the counter, hands on both sides of my legs on the counter. He looks in my eyes, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. I gulp, for some reason.

“You look good today” he says.

Why. Why does he say that? I’m not in the right state of mind to be handling this right now. I’m afraid I'm going to make wrong decisions, decisions I shouldn’t. But he looks so damn good.. so damn good..

My eyes search his face, no expression. I like my lips, clearly some version of nervous. Still somewhere drunk, I cup his cheeks with my hands. Lean in, close my eyes, and kiss him. And he kisses me back, he actually kisses back. He doesn’t move a lot though, but also doesn’t move away.

As if a switch in my mind flipped, I break the kiss. Hands off him. “Omg, I-I’m so sorry” I apologize. Get back on my feet, ready to flee the scene walking past him.

But he catches my wrist, I swing around back to him. Hair flying around me, almost cinematically. And he kisses me again. More forceful this time, pushing my back against the counter again. He brushes a hand through my hair and rests it on my neck. Before placing me on top of it again.

He licks the bottom of my lip, testing the waters. I copy his movements. Tongue exploring my mouth, I let a moan slip. With the amount of alcohol I’ve had today, embarrassing is a stage I’ve far surpassed.

He takes it as a sign. kisses me along my jaw, down my neck. Moving my head to the side to give him easy access. His hands on my waist.

“You look good too I guess” I say. He laughs at that, sending vibrations all through my body.

“Shut up” he says with a slight chuckle in his voice.

“Make me” what in the word possessed me to say that. He’s my best friend, I don’t want this. Expected it to be Taehyung.

He stops what he’s doing, looks me in the eyes. “Sure?” He says. “yes..” I whisper. No, no is what I should’ve said. But it feels too good to stop, feels wrong for it to be him. But feels so good.

As if he doesn’t need telling twice, he connects his lips with mine again. Rougher this time, as if they’ve been wanting it for years. Though it’s just a one time thing. Doesn’t see him like that.

He picks me up from the counter, my legs wrapping around his waist. No idea where he brings me to as my back is turned to the apartment, too busy focusing on his lips.

“Gon make you feel so good” he says between kisses. Until my back hits the back of his bed. Legs still wrapped around his waist.

He takes off his shirt, he’s certainly been working out. Big biceps, soft skin, toned abs. Oh do I love muscles.. “Like the view huh?” He cocks. GOD do I want to roll my eyes at him. But instead I take my shirt off as well. Left in my bra, and skirt.

“Expected someone?” Is the first thing he said at the sight of my bra. “No” I lied. He doesn’t respond. far too occupied kissing my chest now, as my moans occupy the room.

He trails his fingers across my thighs, teasing me. He stops kissing me, looks me in my eyes. Don’t know what to say to him. No words come to mind. Brows furrowed, biting down on my lip.

“What you want bunny” he teases higher up on my inner thighs, should’ve worn safety shorts but decided not to. Wearing a baby pink, lacy thong, that matches my bra.

“Don’t call me that” I say breathily, hate it when he calls me that. Called him bunny once because I thought it was funny, he’d call me bunny too. Mine stuck, his didn’t. He knows I hate it.

“What?.. Bunny?” As he says that, he presses down on my clit. Receiving a soft moan from me. “Seems like you like it” he smirks. Hate that smirk.

He dares to shoot even lower, finger at my entrance. He circles around, not wanting to put them in yet.

I want to speak up, talk back. Tell him to shut his mouth. “I-ah, fuck” failed miserably. Just as I want to tell him off, he dips one finger in.

“Fuck, you’re so wet bunny” that stupid name again. My hand shoots up to his bicep, holding onto it for dear life. “More” he’s not even really doing anything, yet I want his big hands to stretch me out further.

He obliges, adding another finger.

“How bad do you want it bun” he asks, pumping his fingers in and out painfully slow.

“Shut up” I hiss. Though u have to admit, I clench around his fingers as he calls me that.

“Tell me” he says again and still his fingers completely. “Finger me Koo” I look at him, doe eyed. I can feel him fucking twitch against my leg as I say that. He looks at me for a few seconds, completely still “Koo?” He breathes in heavily, leaving a groan as he releases his breath.

He crashes his lips against mine, moving his fingers again. He's certainly skilled to say the least. two fingers moving in and out of me again, curling inside of me, hitting the exact right places. Thumb on my clit circling around it.

My mouth falters open, unable to kiss him back. The back of my head burying deep in the mattress. Eyes shut. Fuck it feels good.

He kisses down my collarbone. If he continues like this I'm actually going to come soon.

"Fuck, Koo" I moan loudly, he can feel my walls clench around his fingers. He stops kissing me. "Look at me when you cum" He says, well.. more like demands. "Look who's making you feel like this yun" I absolutely try my best to look at him, eyes faltering shut before opening them again. "That's it" He praises, That's what it does for me. My orgasm hitting me hard, as I try my absolute best to look at him. Tears nearly peeping through.

Both our heads snap at his door, before we look at each other shocked. "I thought you said Mingyu wasn't home" I say as he quickly pulls his fingers out of me, feeling empty inside. "He told me he was staying at his girlfriends house" quickly closing his bedroom door as the front door opens.

We both find our discarded shirts on the ground putting them back on. I run to his mirror checking if I look presentable. we both stay completely silent, holding our breath afraid to make a single sound.

We can hear Mingyu walk past the door, to his own bedroom slamming his door shut. both letting out a breath we've been holding for far too long.

Jungkook leans his head back against the door. I can see the disappointment in his face. the walls are thin, heard Mingyu in action one time.

I feel disappointed, bad for him. Poor dude getting blue balled. I'm afraid to admit I was kind of looking forward to returning the favour to him.

Who says we still can't?

I walk over to him, as quiet as I can. As soon as I approach him I trail my finger across his abdomen, placing kisses on his shoulder and collarbone.

"Bun? what ar-" I cut him off, shushing him wish a kiss to his mouth. "Just stay quiet" I whisper against his ear. my hands at his waist band, unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans. dropping down to my knees.

to be honest I have no idea what I'm doing. mimicking things I've seen, and read. Pulling his jeans down a little, placing a kiss on his clothed cock. I can feel he's still rock hard. I can hear his breath hitch as I place a kiss on it.

Not wanting to waste too much time, I pull his boxers down too. nearly jump scaring me as he springs free. I need a moment to register what I'm seeing, I've always seen dicks as something pretty ugly. But having him in front of me like this, makes me think otherwise. He's big. Bigger than I thought existed in real life. But nothing abnormal. "Stop staring" He whispers. I meet his eyes. shaking me out of my thoughts. There's no way in hell I can take all of him.

I place my hands at his base, Notice he's struggling not to moan at my touch. Place a kiss on the side of his cock, licking a long stripe across the vein that goes from the base to his tip. placing a kiss on it as I reach the end. swiping my tongue across his slit, tasting his precum. And take him in my mouth.

I can tell he's struggling to keep quiet, his hand finding it's way into my hair. I try to take as much of him as I can, without trying to gag on him. bobbing my head up and down, moving my hands wherever I cant reach.

Never would I have thought, giving a blowjob can be arousing for the one whose giving it as well. noticing I'm rubbing my thighs together as if I didn't just orgasm around the same fingers that are in my hair right now.

he pushes my head down a little, making me moan softly against him making him groan in response. I look at him through my lashes, eyes meeting his as he was already looking at me.

I squish his balls lightly, sending him over the edge. he pushes my head down hard, tears peeking through the corner of my eyes. he comes down my throat. soft humming coming from above me as he tries his best to stay quiet. warm liquid trickling down my throat as I swallow all of it.

sucking him empty and letting go with a plop. He wipes the corner of my mouth, as I smile at him proudly. "Good girl" he says, making me clench on absolutely nothing.

He puts himself back in his boxers, putting his jeans back on as well as I get back to my feet. He nudges his head to his door that he's still leaning against.

"U can take a shower if you want to. take a tee of mine" I nod at him, swinging around to his dresser stealing one of his shirts. running off to the bathroom.

Been to his house so many times is normal for me to be here.

I walk back to his room after my shower, hair blow dried, big shirt of Jungkook's. he switches places with me and disappears into the bathroom.

suddenly it all feels empty again, quiet. events of this evening reoccurring in my head. Jungkook seemed to take my mind of Taehyung for a little. but now that, that moment is over, it all comes flushing back.

I feel so stupid to think I had an actual chance with him.

I make my way to Jungkook's bed, curling up under his covers. Too empty to even open my phone to see my missed messages. Or to look at TikTok to pass the time.

Time passes so slowly, staring right in front of me. No thoughts running through my mind, but at the same time so many.

Jungkook makes his way back into his room. I didn’t even notice until he was in squatting next to me. tucking a piece of hair behind my ear as I'm laid on my side. I look at him, only my eyes moving to find his.

"you sure you're alright?" I don't want to answer him, feel embarrassed about what happened. I feel so naïve.

"Lets pretend nothing happened okay?" I tell him. He nods. a simple "okay" leaving his mouth.

he walks over to the other side of his bed. back facing me, my back facing him. I feel like I shouldn't leave him in the dark on what happened.

"had a crush on Taehyung" I admit to him, feel like I'm admitting it to myself as I tell him. "Was talking with him at the party for like 2 hours.." he stays silent, not sure if he's listening or maybe already sleeping. "left for a drink, saw another girl on his lap when I came back"

"I felt so naïve, to think he'd like me back. but he just wanted to get in my pants. was devastated when I saw them, felt like I was gonna throw up" I tell him "Oh yeah and then I fell." I add.

He's completely silent. no clue if he's even awake, maybe he's wearing headphones. maybe he fell asleep, I don't know.

"Koo?" I say softly. I get a soft "yeah?" back, almost like a whisper.

"Wasn’t sure if you were listening" I say. there's so much room between us. I left to his house to feel comfortable, to not be alone. knew my brother would be a pain in the arse at home. and if he wouldn't, than mum would be. I feel.. empty, even tough my night was so full.

After everything that happened with Jungkook tonight, how is my mind still with Taehyung? "Koo?.." I say again. "yeah?.." Somehow I’m nervous for what I'm about to ask him, afraid he’ll reject me. Part of me knows he wouldn't. Part of me knows it isn't usually weird. Just after what happened today I'm unsure.

"Can we cuddle?" I ask quietly, Almost embarrassed.

He doesn't reply, all he does I move. Move closer to me in his bed. And as I look over I see him holding his arm up. Open for me to join him. Not a single moment in my mind that doubts rolling over to him.

He wraps me up in his arms as I hug his waist tightly, not wanting to let go of someone else at the moment. So desperately in need of physical touch, is sad.

A tear falls down from my face. too much going on at the moment. too much for me to handle. I know he can feel me sob in his embrace, I know his shirt is getting salty wet because of my tears. he doesn't mention it. caresses my hair and suits circles on my back. even places a kiss on my forehead.

"Back to normal tomorrow m'kay?" He whispers, hearing the vibrations from his chest through my cheeks, are soothing. secretly wishing they could last forever.

I nod, and fall asleep quite vastly.

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#jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x original character #jungkook fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfction #bts smut #jungkook fluff #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #jjk smut #smut #smut fanfiction #jjk #jjk x oc

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huramuna · 9 months ago

Text

banshee's lament - chapter 4.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

a/n: this chapter might be a bit slower. it's building some things up and i wanted to brush up on my combat writing. it's a bit scuffed but i hope you enjoy! aemond is kind of feral in this chapter.

wordcount: 4.2k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing

story playlist

‘Little wolf spider’ Helaena had called her. She remembered Helaena’s incessant facts about them specifically– why, of all things, did she remember that? She remembered Helaena citing that they were excellent hunters with superb eyesight. They did not spin webs, most being wanderers without permanent homes.

It almost made her want to laugh. It truly described her well, didn’t it? Besides the eyesight part… and the hunting part– she was indeed, a little wolf spider– doomed to be alone and not able to make her own home, a rolling stone amongst the waves that threatened to drown her.

After the betrothal announcement dinner and subsequent breakdown of Shera, she stayed in her chambers for a few days, not feeling well enough to socialize, nor see the faces of people that would’ve heard her crying. Cregan visited a few times, bringing her a meal or two and forcing her to bathe– it was agitating her to be forced to do something she loved, something she wished to do alone.

He, thankfully, had maids do the actual washing part– but this still annoyed Shera to bits. She hated being touched, being fretted over by them as they looked upon her like she was lesser, like she wasn’t capable of doing things herself. She felt suffocated in a place that usually brought her peace, simpering tiny whines as they pulled at her hair.

I can do it, I can do it– just let me do it!

She wanted to scream and claw their wandering eyes out, then go and kick Cregan in the balls– this was his fault, his fault–

Finally, the maids left and she felt like a freshly plucked duck, ready to be roasted over the fire. Her skin was red and pink, emanating heat that she could almost see, steam roiling over her overwrought skin.

Moongeist whined at the closed washroom door– they had locked him out, the absolute fiends. She wrapped in a robe, pinning her hair up with a whale bone pin and opened the door.

“Come here, lovey,” she cooed, voice broken and hoarse still. “They locked you out– my poor bubby.” Shera pat his head, descending onto her knees. She was still weak from the emotional turmoil she’d gone through, bleeding into her physical state, but she would need to be bed bound before she would ever forsake Moongeist proper scratches. Her hands glided through his black fur and she pressed her face to him, taking in his familiar scent.

Everyone said he smelled like a dog, but that was simply untrue. He smelled… clean, he smelled like wolf– which was much different than smelling like dog. It was primal and heady, deep and warm like fir trees and pine nettles and all the things that were so synonymous with him. She scratched behind his ears and his leg thumped on the ground.

Cregan returned to her chamber, a plate of something sweet smelling in his hand. He put it down on the dining table. “Are you feeling better today?”

Shera’s mouth pursed into a thin line as she got back to her feet— with Moongeist’s assistance— and meandered to the table. “Define better.” she murmured, inspecting the plate. It was piled high with her favorite treat; sticky honey walnut cakes. Her mouth filled with saliva instantly and her brow raised to Cregan. Perhaps her brother was more considerate than she thought.

“Better as in you’d be able to walk the Keep— Jacaerys and I are going to be skirmishing in the training yard at noon.”

She all but scowled as she pilfered one of the pastries, biting into it without much decorum. It was a messy dessert, designed to be eaten with a fork and knife— but damn that, she would be sticky faced like a honey drunk bear if she pleased! She melded into the flavors, the nostalgia of it tampering her mood. “… I suppose I could watch.”

“He asked for you, you know.”

Shera’s brow raised. ‘He’ could mean a lot of people. “Who?”

“Jacaerys. He asked if you were alright and wished his condolences for your… illness.”

“Is that what we are saying it is now? An illness?” she muttered, taking another bite of the cake. Yes, how diminishing it felt to pass off her fragility of mind as an illness. Of course— how else could it be put? She was surprised that it wasn’t being spread as a ‘malady of woman’, or some other pompous innocuous name for whatever was really wrong with her.

“What would you call it then?”

She made a noncommittal noise and continued eating. After finishing, she let out a sigh. “Thank you for the cakes, Cregan.”

“I didn’t bring them— they were at your chamber door when I came back.”

She tilted her head. “They were just… there?”

“I didn’t even know you liked honey walnut cakes, Shera.”

She clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll be at the yard at noon. I need to get ready, if you please.” she said, the nicest way of putting it. Leave, brother. You’re annoying.

–

Dressed in a lighter garment than usual, she descended the steps carefully. A light blue tulle train flowed behind her, rippling and waving in the breeze like the white capped crests upon the Blackwater. It was different from her normal style of muted, monotone colors— mayhaps it was a way to uplift herself.

It was a lovely blue and green hue, embroidered with filigree patterns. The sleeves were long, accompanied by a sweeping circular decolletage, exposing her soft collarbone and the faintest swell of breast. She had felt so confident leaving her chambers— she even went with a shorter veil than usual, the lace falling just past her jaw.

Walking down the hall, Moongeist nosed her hand to his head, as if to remind her of something. She felt… exposed. A bit too much for her liking. Her fingers glided over her wolf’s soft fur… and she remembered, swiftly turning around to grab her fur stole from her room. “Thank you for reminding me, sweet boy,” she hummed, snuggling into the comforting, familiar fur.

Descending down to the training yard, she fanned herself with an errant hand. Even with less layers than usual and lighter colors, she was still broiling under the sun. Moongeist panted near her, tongue lolled out in silent agreement.

“A parasol might do you well, my lady,” a bored voice drawled. “Your pale complexion does you wonders, but I wonder if you still flay in the sun like as a child.”

“Aegon,” Shera recognized the lazy, tired voice of the eldest child of Alicent. He had been one of her companions back in the day, but also one of her greatest foes– before the incident of course. “I’m surprised to see you outside. I’ve heard you’re solely a creature of the dark now.”

“I am full of surprises, dear Shera,” he caught up to her, looping their arms together all too readily. He had a dopey smile on his face, but it didn’t match the pure exhaustion in his eyes. Dark bags fell under those violet orbs like a dreary storm. “I happen to be coming back from… such nightly activities.”

Moongeist let out a growl as he touched her, but Shera silenced him. She didn’t believe that she had any reason to fear Aegon and thought him almost as pathetic as she. “Very well.”

“I heard about… the dinner. I’m glad I slipped out when I did, I knew it’d be a shit show,” he was fiddling with his rings on his free arm, all while stringing her along to the training yard. “Curious how Aemond said you were a bashed up mess under that veil of yours, and yet– he is challenging your betrothed and your brother to a duel?”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my ways– eyes and ears everywhere.”

“Helaena told you, didn’t she?”

“... mm. Maybe– even so, I don’t think it’s wholly terrible under there, is it?” he peered at her, a single hand lifting her veil to peek underneath.

She promptly slapped his hand away and wrenched herself from his grasp, followed by Moongeist giving a warning snap to the air. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Sleeping off your night, mayhaps?”

“Well– yes,” Aegon backed up, putting his hands in the air in surrender. “I just wanted to catch up. Is that so terrible?”

“Yes.”

He patted down imaginary dust from his doublet, twisting his rings again as they reached the landing to the training yard observation deck. He leaned his head to look out and survey it for a moment before a devilish smirk perked at his mouth once more. “You are going to wish that it was me talking to you soon enough, Shera. Have fun, zokla.” Wolf.

Shera watched him jaunt off with an air of confusion, turning to walk onto the rampart. She saw Jacaerys there already with Cregan, talking and laughing with… Rhaena and Baela. Daemon was there, too, stalking in the background.

Fuck.

She took a deep breath, glancing to the dirt grounds where Aemond was sparring with Criston.

Cregan’s voice echoed in her mind. They’re not your friends, not anymore. She pulled her stole closer to herself, walking forward. I don’t have any friends here. Except for Helaena, it seemed. Steeling her nerves, she made her way to the small congregation. “Brother, Jacaerys,” she greeted first, dipping her head. Cregan seemed jovial and in good spirits– he always was around Jacaerys and vice versa. “Lady Baela, Lady Rhaena.” she spoke then, trying to keep her quivering voice even. They hadn’t spoken since Baela had slashed her eye and attempted to kill her. Shera took in her appearance best she could– she had grown up, as they all had, but especially resembled her mother, Laena. Shera remembers seeing Laena’s portraits in Driftmark– and her statuesque coffin depiction before she was pushed into the sea.

“Shera,” Jacaerys grinned, taking her hand– which she did not offer him– and kissed it. So gallant, so princely. It made her want to vomit. “It’s a lovely day today, isn’t it?”

Yes, it’s a lovely day, stifling hot in the hells. “... it could do with a breeze, mayhaps. But yes, quite nice.” she responded coolly.

“‘Tis my turn to spar Aemond next– apparently he has been here since the crack of dawn with Criston. Do you think he’s getting exhausted yet, my lady?” Jace asked, guiding Shera to her seat and handing her a fan. At least he noticed that she was positively broiling.

She leaned and looked over the rampart to the skirmishing ring, where Aemond kept up his pace. “Since dawn, you say?” she asked, raising a brow as she fanned herself.

Aemond was using a shortsword, which seemed to be his weapon of choice against all others. Ser Criston was wielding a morningstar with spiked barbs around it. Her lone eye was entranced on the prince’s movements as he danced around his teacher, footwork impeccable as if he were simply floating across the dirt, whipping up hardly any dust in his wake. Shera wished she was a bit closer so she could see it better, but his movements didn’t seem to be exhausted in the slightest– he was like grebe skimming over the water, in his element.

Criston raised his morningstar, twirling it before making his advance to the prince, to which Aemond did not move. Move, Aemond. Move! What are you doing? Shera clenched her fist in her lap and leaned forward even farther to try and parse exactly what Aemond’s plan was– certainly not to face a morningstar head on with a simple shortsword? She held her breath as he was within bludgeoning range of the flail, the chains clinking as Criston didn’t waiver– it was like they were in a real fight. Was he about to kill Aemond?

She rose to her feet quickly, startled by what she thought was about to be a murder– only to watch Aemond roll deftly out of the way as the kingsguard’s weapon stuck into the dirt, lodged a few inches in by the heft of his lunge. This was a clear opportunity for Aemond, one he calculated so carefully. He stuck the tip of his shortsword through the links of the flail, keeping it pinned to the ground and hovered a dagger at Ser Cole’s neck with his other hand.

“I yield, my prince.” Criston huffed, bowing his head.

“Very good,” Aemond grinned– but it wasn’t a grin of joy, this seemed to be a recurring theme with Aemond– he smiled but it was nothing of mirth. It was simply a reflex, like a snake opening its jaws to stretch its fangs, one might think it was laughing. “Who’s next?”

Shera realized the kerfuffle she’d made, her hand white knuckled against her chest as she stared at Aemond in abject horror, still not getting past the fact that she had been deathly worried about Aemond– even after the horrible things he had said. If Ser Cole’s flail had met the prince’s head, she would’ve jumped the rampart with Moongeist and mauled that sordid Kingsguard without a second thought.

She blinked, letting out a breath. Where did that come from? She was usually so well versed in her moods, as tumultuous as they could be. But this rage had snuck up on her, her blood boiling slightly. She glanced to her side, Moongeist was up and raring to go, as if sharing her sentiment.

Aemond wiped sweat from his forehead, finally looking to the ramparts. Their eyes met once again and he smirked. Smirked. It wasn’t a reflexive, mirthless smirk either. It was taunting, pompous. “Lady Shera,” he drawled, dislodging his sword from the ground and twirled it with ease, like it was an attachment of his own body. “You are dressed… brightly today.” he walked to the edge of the ring, looking directly up at her.

Shera looked behind her for a moment– the rest of the party was occupied with talking with one another. She pressed her arms on the wall and leaned down. “I am. You are not.”

“When have I ever been?”

“You used to like green.”

“Hm,” he snorted, wiping some errant dirt from his face. “If I were in a tourney, would you cast down your favor to me?”

“I thought you didn’t care for tournaments, my prince.”

“I don’t.” he responded coolly, his eye trained on her so intensely. He was looking at something– did she have something on her face?

She realized quickly the air coming up from under her veil, the shorter one she wore today, and her angle. She was looking… down at him, and the veil stayed in place. He could see her face. He was looking at her, studying her like a book. Shera let out a soft sheepish noise, pushing back from the rampart and sitting back at her seat.

She heard him laugh as he walked away to stow his weapon on the rack and pick another. He was laughing at her– surely because he thought her ugly. Wilting into herself, she adjusted her veil so that she might not have any more mishaps.

“Jacaerys, I believe it’s your turn,” she murmured, fanning herself again, then fanning Moongeist.

“Ah, very good. Wish me luck, my lady.”

“Good luck, Jacaerys.” she hummed. I do wish you don’t get your brains splattered in the pit by Aemond. I am not getting up again.

Cregan clasped Jace on the shoulder with such ferocity he almost knocked the prince over, walking down to the pit with him. Shera rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat.

“So, Lady Stark,” Baela hummed, pulling her seat up next to Shera. Uncomfortably close. “Cregan is your brother, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.” she responded, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Forgive me– you two don’t look much alike, so I was just making sure.”

You cannot even see my face, how do you know we do not look alike? The last time you saw my face, you mauled it. “Cregan takes after our father more than I. I am more like our mother– or so I’ve been told. I’ve not met her.” she fiddled with her fur stole to ease her growing irritation. Add mother issues to the list of things I have wrong with me. Shera’s mother died shortly after her birth– all she knew is that she had copper hair. Their father had put away portraits and any semblance of her existence after– and never remarried.

Baela carefully sidestepped the issue of Shera’s mother, keeping her pressed about Cregan. “My stepmother says that mayhaps after you and Jacaerys are wed, she will propose a betrothal between Cregan and I.”

Oh, of course. Let’s have Winterfell all but indebted to dragons. “I hadn’t heard. Have you been North, my lady?”

“No– but I imagine it cannot be any harsher than the roiling tides of Driftmark.”

Fuck you. “Having been both places– they are very different, Lady Baela,” Shera knew she was being short and not doing well in containing her agitation at this whole situation, being in proximity to her would-be murderer. “The North is harsher than any tide and is not the best climate for everyone. I do not think dragons fair well in the North,” she paused to breathe, her pace of speaking beginning to burn her throat. She was fueled by disconcertment and barely contained anger alone. “... that is what I have heard. Vermax loathes the snow.”

“Well,” Baela kept a smile on her face. “Cregan is handsome, don’t you think?”

“I cannot say, my lady. I don’t really see him in such a manner— I am not a Targaryen, after all.” Shera said back, finally regaining some control in her voice.

She heard Daemon laugh behind her. She fought the urge to turn around and sneer, focusing on the melee happening in the pit. It was well on its way and Jacaerys was… faring. She didn’t know how he was faring, but he wasn’t knocked out yet.

Aemond was circling him like a wolf upon prey– a totally different technique than what he had done with Criston. He had let Criston come to him, rather than facing him head on. It was almost sickly how he was playing with him before the slaughter. There was a dangerous glint in Aemond’s eye that only Shera seemed to catch– did he mean to kill Jace? She remembered a similar glint in his eye when he raised the rock to Jacaerys’ head in the tunnels under Driftmark–

Aemond surged forward and steel met steel, their swords clashing together. Jace had chosen a shortsword as well, parrying his opponent’s thrust– barely. He knocked the white-haired prince back slightly, catching his breath.

Once again, that sickly smile spread across Aemond’s face. “Tired already, Jacaerys? We’ve barely begun!” he continued his walk around his nephew, twirling his sword.

“Hardly, uncle. All you’ve done is dance around me. How about an actual fight, ey?” Jace quipped back.

Shera had to give him credit where it was due. Jace was brazen. Taunting an already unhinged Aemond and being mayhaps a bit stupid– but brazen nonetheless.

“A swordsman knows how to pick his fights and when to wait, doesn’t he?” Aemond’s eye flicked to the ramparts where Daemon was still looming. “Has your stepfather not taught you that?”

“You’re both talking a bit too much for my liking,” Cregan grunted, his hand itching on his own sword, which he had already unsheathed. It was the Stark’s ancestral weapon, a huge greatsword aptly called Ice. Cregan handled it with ease– Shera wouldn’t even be able to lift it. “Go on, Jacaerys.”

“Go on, Jacaerys,” Aemond taunted in a similar tone, his hackles raised. He looked slightly manic in the moment. “Let's see what your stepfather has taught you– if anything. I thought you were supposed to be strong.”

Jacaerys raged forward, spurred by his rising anger. Their swords clashed again with such force that sparks flew from the metal. Aemond thwarted him off, pushing him backwards into the dirt, shrugging his shoulders.

Despite being pushed down, Jace still got up, coming at Aemond again and again, each slash more sloppy than the last, but fueled with spite. His uncle continued to parry him, to push him, to sweep him aside with ease– it was a game to him.

“Keep your attacks focused, Jacaerys,” Cregan commanded. “He’s getting tired, I can see it.”

“I can go all day, Stark!” Aemond barked, his violet eye pierced solely on Cregan now as he thwarted Jacaerys’ heavy-handed blows without even looking at him. “Let’s make a wager, shall we? If your… pup here wins, I’ll personally pay for you and your troops to have a trip to the Silk Street– the best brothel. If I win– I get to take your sister for a ride on my dragon.”

Ah, fuck. Cregan’s hackles rose and he shoved off his fur cape. “Don’t talk about my sister, you beast,” the vein in Cregan’s neck throbbed and Shera knew it would come to blows between the Warden of the North and the One-Eyed prince. “You wouldn’t know a real fight if it hit you in the face.”

“Oh, please– now give me a moment so I can pummel your little pup into the ground and show your sister a real dra–” Aemond’s voice was cut off as Cregan punched him squarely in the face, right in his nose. Blood dripped from his nostrils and he then raised his sword to Cregan. “Fine.”

Their bodies tensed and Jacaerys saw the opportunity to walk away, thoroughly exhausted and not wanting to get in between the two of them.

They were about to clash swords once more in a very real manner and Shera stood up from her chair hastily, opening her mouth to say something– but she was cut off.

“Aemond!” an authoritative voice called from the rampart. It was Otto Hightower, hand of the King– and Aemond’s grandsire. “Forgo your petty spar and meet me in the Tower of the Hand. Promptly.”

The mania in Aemond’s eyes and aura faded, snuffing it out once more– just like his rage at the dinner. “Of course. Good fight, Jacaerys,” he nodded his head to his nephew, then looked to Cregan. “Stark.” he uttered before spitting blood onto the dirt, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand. He didn’t even look at Shera as he ascended the steps and followed his grandsire.

“I notice you did not greet me, Lady Stark,” Daemon hummed as he loomed behind her. “Am I not worthy of your respect?”

“... you were quite far away, Prince Daemon. I simply cannot project my voice that far, forgive me.” she droned, blinking profusely at the turn of events.

“My nephew said he would’ve taken you on a ride upon his dragon– care to enlighten me what that might mean?” he continued, tapping ringed fingers on the stone barrier.

“I presume he would take me on a ride on Vhagar,” she muttered, edging away from Daemon. “He would find it hard to get me upon his beast, even if he won the bet.”

“I’m sure he would. Your brother has a temper when it comes to you, it seems?”

“All men have tempers when it comes to women in their lives, do they not?”

“That’s true.”

“I don’t imagine you would wish your daughter,” she cleared her throat, eyes looking to Baela, who was speaking to Jacaerys off to the side. “To be absconded to the North. Nor do I imagine you’re entirely pleased at the prospect of more Andal blood tainting your line.”

“An apt observation, wolf. Though, I am not sure the North is meant for northerners, either. Some people just do not belong anywhere, it seems.”

Fuck off, old man. “I wish you a good day, prince Daemon.” Shera whispered, bowing her head, careful of her veil placement. She could feel his gaze on her, leering at her, trying to figure out what was beneath.

“Cregan– I am going to lunch with Helaena,” Shera tried to call down, but her voice didn’t project. He was caught up talking very animatedly to Jacaerys and Baela– Rhaena was off to the side, not saying much.

Shera let out an errant puff of agitation and left the training yard. She stopped at her chambers before going to Helaena’s– she took off the errant piece of flowing fabric from her outfit and put it on the desk.

–

Aemond returned to his chambers hours later after being thoroughly chewed out by his grandsire for ‘behavior unbecoming of a prince’. Is this how it felt to be Aegon?

His nose ached and he was sure that northern beast had broken it. It mattered not, it will mend. Most things do in time.

He began to unlace his jerkin as he noticed a piece of cerulean fabric on his desk, pinned with a note.

My favor, for you.

There was no signature to whom had written it, only a crude drawing of a wolf. He rolled his eye, picking up the fabric. It was soft between his calloused fingers and smelled heavily of lavender and rosemary. It smelled of her– he could absorb it even with his broken nose.

A tiny smile perked at his lips for a moment. ‘Twas a real one.

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 5 months ago

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen

TW: nsfw, angst

You wake up to the smell of bacon, coffee, and something sweet in the skillet.

Usually such a thing would mean you are dreaming, and you need to wake your ass up before you’re late for work. But you roll over to look into your tiny kitchen, finding a sight fit for Playgirl Magazine before your disbelieving eyes.

Dear Penthouse, I can’t believe this actually happened to me…

Detective Tom Ludlow is in your kitchen, making pancakes…in nothing but a towel around his trim waist. His dark hair is combed back, still wet from the shower. His broad shoulders are something to write home about–Kansas farm boys had nothing on this beautiful specimen of masculinity.

Had the night before even been real?

As though he senses your return to consciousness–or maybe the weight of your gawker’s stare upon him–he turns to look at you. “Morning, beautiful.”

You blink with surprise, because he is talking to you.

“Hi,” you greet, clever as ever, and goddammit but are you blushing?

“Whacha looking at?” he teases, spatula in hand. The very picture of domestic bliss. God help you, but in that moment you were 300 percent ready to put a ring on this man.

“Just…the most best thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, knowing you’ll kick yourself for it later.

However, the smile he pays you, smug yet somehow gentle–it fries your brain entirely.

“Likewise, sweetheart.” He crosses the short space with a few long strides to press his lips to yours. “You like pancakes with blueberries?”

You’d bought the ingredients–and promptly stuck them in the cupboards–for just such a purpose, thinking that someday, when you had time, and weren’t bone fucking tired from working 12 hour shifts days in a row, you’d make a point to treat yourself.

Funny, how that never happened, until Tom Ludlow came around.

Here you are, getting emotional about blueberry fucking pancakes.

“Yes,” is the only answer you can muster, and he kisses you so sweetly that it curls your toes.

His soft smile down at you will be the death of you. “Sleep well?”

“Like a well-fucked rock,” you tell him, winning a bark of masculine laughter.

“Likewise, beautiful. Definitely likewise.” He vacates the couch to flip his pancake. You continue to stare, still dumbfounded.

“Tom?” you ask, still struggling to wake up.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Did last night…actually happen?”

“Sure did. Don’t you remember driving to Vegas? We got the best Elvis in the building.”

You blink stupidly for a few moments, before registering his absolutely shit-eating grin.

“Very funny. And the joke would be on you, if you married me on a drunken lark.”

“Why?” he asks, seemingly amused by your discomfort.

“I told you. I’m a fucking mess.”

“Far as I can tell? You’re fucking perfect, and I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.”

You’re not really sure why this pithy little compliment brings tears to your eyes, your lip quivering. Only a beat later does he notice, and he rushes over again.

“Hey, hey, no crying, baby, I’m sorry. What’s wrong? I was just joking.”

You swipe at your eyes with the heels of your hands, embarrassed. “You’re just..so sweet, and I actually fucking believe you, when you say this shit, ok?”

He blinks, but god bless, it only takes him a moment to assess, and act. He presses his soft lips to yours, then his forehead to your forehead, as though he can will you to accept his declarations through osmosis. “Believe it,” he tells you. “It’s true…well. Not the Elvis bit. We can do that next weekend if you want.”

You know he’s joking…but it still doesn’t fail to utterly melt your insides. This man who manhandled and harrassed you has turned out to be the biggest fucking softy, and you just might lose your shit.

You’ve already cried in front of him too many times, though, so you play it off and act like what he’s saying is no big deal. “Really? I think I’d rather have Michael Jackson instead.”

You wonder if he misses being married. If he fucked his wife like he’d fucked you last night…you can’t fathom stepping out on him. But then you also know, that sometimes cops can also be married to their jobs. It could make for a difficult threesome. You imagine going without him, while he was working an intense case, would be absolute hell.

Tom snorts. “Whatever floats my lady’s boat,” he answers, flipping another pancake onto the stack. He ports them to the table with a flourish. “Come eat, sweet girl. You gotta work today?”

“Later. Unfortunately.”

He sticks his full lip out in a pout that should be illegal on a grown ass man. “Then eat quickly, because I’m not done with you yet.” he informs you with a wicked smirk that causes a brand new flood between your already sticky thighs.

He turns, that broad, tapered back on full display, to finish plating breakfast, and you can’t not watch the tight muscle in his butt shift in the thin towel. You get this sudden strange urge to sink your teeth into him and latch on, and wonder if ancient cavewomen bit their partners to lay claims. Because that’s what Tom Ludlow works on—the part of your spongy brain that developed before speech and theory—the part that wants to bite and howl.

Evolution is a bitch.

Oh no, he can cook. And cook good. The pancakes he sets in front of you, drizzled with honey and topped with fresh blueberries, taste like a fluffy heaven in your mouth. Even the coffee is splendid, done up blonde and sugary just the way you prefer. “Tom, damn,” you compliment between mouthfuls. “You went out to get blueberries?” It’s selfish, but the thought of him leaving you alone even to run out and grab something for you makes your insides twist uncomfortably.

“Oh, no, I borrowed some from your neighbor.”

Of course at that moment you have an entire mouthful of coffee that you almost spray on his bare, beautiful chest. “What?!”

He adopts a bemused smile. “Very nice lady.”

“Please tell me you had more than just a towel on?”

“Less, actually.”

He bursts into laughter and the astonished look on your face.

“I’m gonna kick your ass, Ludlow.”

“She asked me something really interesting.” He wipes a little honey off your top lip and sucks it into his mouth, making you dumb enough to forget you’re annoyed. “She asked me if I’m the nightmare?”

“I have no idea what she’s talking about.”

“You are a terrible little liar, you know that? I can see your tell from a mile away.”

“Oh, what is it?” You smirk, shove a bite of pancake into your mouth.

“You’re lucky I’m hungry,” he threatens, playful and promising, sending a thrill through your chest.

You grab a glob of honey on your finger and kitten lick it off, almost bold enough to make direct eye contact with him for more than five seconds while you’re doing it. “Or what?”

He pops up from his seat, and your first instinct is run. Run away. You make it two steps before he has you grabbed around the waist and is dragging you back to his place at the table.

Your squeals of nervous laughter crescendo into a moan when he pulls you down onto his big cock. It surprises you as much as it did last night, how well he fills and stretches you. Not a piece of your fluttery hole unpunished by his silky, maddening pressure. You immediately grind, eager for that pressure to shift and rub and build you, but he stills you with a mitt on your waist.

Then his big hands bunch in the ruffled fabric of your sundress, which somehow you never managed to remove amidst both of your eagerness to get to other parts of you instead. Slowly he draws it up over your head, tossing it away somewhere across the room. Before you can even begin to think about feeling self conscious he makes a low sound of appreciation behind you, running his hands down your curves.

“So fucking beautiful. I just wanna stay inside this pretty little pussy all day,” he tells you, smoothing his wet tongue across your shoulder. You arch into him, and he nips your skin for the retaliation. “Feel her throb while I tell you what I wanna do to her. Jesus, you’re soaked.”

You try to squeeze your thighs together for precious friction on your clit, but he tugs them back open, chuckling at the pathetic attempt. “You wanna fuck yourself, baby?”

“Yes. Fu-uhck.”

“Want me to pet that pretty clit while you ride me?” He kisses up your neck, into your hairline, tugs your ear between his teeth and you see white fire.

“Yes, Tom. Yes. Please.”

“Then eat your breakfast.”

It’s impossible to focus on the delicious food anymore. The chunks of stuff getting forked into your mouth are no match for the small taste of him. It isn’t long before he’s done with silverware and hand feeding you, making you lick and suck his sticky fingers clean.

“Atta girl. Keeping me all warm and cozy.” His mouth traces circles on your upper back that make you twitch and gasp while his heavy pointer and index finger rest on your tongue, sweet and salty-pleasure and pain-the desire to move trumping all of it.

When his fingers trail up your side and land on your nipple, rolling and pinching, you clench your thighs shut again. He grunts at you, although you think it was meant to be a sound of disapproval before you clenched deliberately on his cock.

“You want to cum?”

“Yessss.”

“Then open your legs back up.”

You obey with a groan of frustration, widening your hips so that the tantalizing pressure is off your throbbing clit. That means all you can focus on is having him inside you, and that would be great if he would just fucking thrust.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He grabs your hips to hold you in place. “You’re busy.”

“Could be important,” you say.

“More important than this?” He grinds up, into your cervix, into all the sensitive soaked walls of your cunt, and the answer to his question is no. Absolutely not. There is nothing more important than him or his cock.

“Tom,” you hiss.

He sighs. “Alright. I’ll get it. Get dressed.”

How empty you feel, when you slide off of his cock as you stand on trembling legs. He halts your progress by gripping your hips, pressing his mouth to the curve of your buttocks. You forget about the door, and everything else, turning in his arms so that he can bury his face in your cleavage. “These beautiful–” He kisses one breast cupped in his hand, “Naughty,” a kiss for the other, just beside your nipple, the tease, “titties are in so much trouble.” He sucks on your perked nipple with a pop, making you cry out.

Knock knock knock.

“Someone’s fucking determined,” he grumbles against your skin.

Reluctantly you manage to pull away from him, and you remember this state of the art technology in your door called a peephole. Naked as a jaybird, you peer through the tiny lens–and gasp at the sight on the other side.

This clearly interests Tom, his head canting at an angle in question. You shake your head, just knowing a perfect storm is brewing. “It’s no one. Ignore it,” you say quietly, hoping they don’t hear you on the other side, praying they have the sense to go away. You try to distract Tom again with kisses and by trying to pull him towards the bedroom, but dammit this man is solid as a fucking tree when he doesn’t want to move.

“Who is it?” he asks with a lifted brow.

Knock knock. “Y/n? I know you’re home.”

Goddammit.

What can only be described as a wicked grin spreads over Tom’s handsome features. “Oh. Let’s say hello, shall we?”

#tom ludlow x reader #keanuverse fic #keanuverse

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its-in-the-woods · 6 months ago

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Down the Rabbit Hole Chapter 6

Chapter one here, two here, three here, four here , five here

Pairing: Walton Goggins x You

Rating/Warning: As always minor get out. Little angst, lots of fluff, handholding,kissing, Very Fluffy, Pinch of Angst, Relationship Development, Hurt/Comfort, Older man/ Younger(30s) women, Alternative universe, fictional work (IDK WHY BUT I AM PUTTING IT) Probably more as I go.

Synopsis: Working in film as a make-up artist is hard enough, but then Walton Goggins requests you, well it's way too easy to fall down the rabbit hole.

Note: they are both single, all for fun.

I think I may have an ending now. Posts will continue to be 2-3k long. Every other day more than likely. The whole fic will be around 30k words.

Thank you all again and again for taking the time to read the stories I put out.

***

Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing, your head is a little fuzzy but not nearly as bad as you’d experienced. Opening your eyes you flip the phone over to see it’s nearly twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Blinking a few times you make yourself sit up in bed flipping your phone on to see a deluge of text messages. Groaning you turn your phone off and stretch. Before any messages were answered you need coffee and maybe a shower.

Showered and suitably caffeinated you finally flip open the text messages.

Trevor:

9 am: So what happened?

9:1 5:Hello?

9:30: Look do I need to call the police?

10:30: It’s been hours….

10:32: You never texted me when you got home

11:01: Okay it’s after eleven. You never sleep in.

12:45: I am coming over in thirty minutes if I don’t hear from you.

You reply:

I am fine, I just got home super late. I hope you’re not coming over

Trevor:

You scared me!

Why didn’t you text me back?

How late were you out

Wait did you go back to his place?????

You groan squeezing your eyes close and drinking a healthy swig of coffee.

You:

We went for sushi, then went down to the beach.

Trevor:

That’s all you're giving me! What kinda 1950s dating scene is this?

You chuckle replying:

We stayed at the beach until 3 am.

Trevor: Wait did you have sex on the beach

You:

TREVOR!

Trevor:

It’s an important question. Don’t want to find out on the gossip train.

You:

why can’t I have nice things TREVOR. No there was no sex in PUBLIC, we kissed and held hands. Can I not do that????

Trevor: Are you secretly asexual? There is nothing wrong with that. I think it’s romantic.

You:

I am going to become asexual if it means you stop asking me these questions.

You could almost hear him laughing at you.

Trevor:

You like it!

You snorted and switched messages.

Walton:

10 am: Hey beautiful, wanted to check in. See how you’re doing this morning.

11 am: I was wondering about maybe going out to bar a city over next Friday?

11:10 am: Promise I am not trying to kidnap you.

12:20 pm: Thought you never slept in?

You:

Hey handsome, sorry I actually slept in. Kept me out past my bedtime.

I would love to go out with you next Friday, fingers crossed they don’t keep us late

You set your phone down, pondering if you still trusted the milk in the fridge to make pancakes. Getting up you get a refill of coffee, phone buzzing.

Walton:

If they do we can always go out saturday? Can’t be keeping you up so late. Got make sure you can keep up with this old man.

You:

Oh I am sure I can keep up with you 😉

Walton:

Careful little lady, I might have to come by and test that theory.

Your face goes bright red and that heat coils low in your belly.

You: Promises, promises,

Walton:

If I didn’t have a zoom meeting in ten minutes 😠

You:

Maybe next Friday.

You’re not sure why you’ve become a tease, but you’re enjoying winding him up.

Walton:

Monday will be more like it.

You:

😜 Your trailer or mine.

Walton:

Yours just so Trevor will stop texting me.

You let out a laugh, seemed like Trevor was also enjoying winding him up. You spend the rest of the day chatting with both of them. Sunday is a bit quieter, more zoom calls for Walt and Trevor had gone to Decon’s.

*** Monday goes by in a blur, Walton keeps his hands to himself when others are around. But it doesn’t stop him from following you behind the food tent to steal kisses. You are now sporting a permanent flush and some of your co-workers are raising eyebrows. You are ever grateful that Trevor has kept his mouth shut. Liz is as pissy as ever but seems to be letting it lay. Katie has slowly warmed up to you again, why you weren’t sure.

The rest of the week is pretty similar. Early mornings bleed into later evenings, the endless weeks have worn on you. Then Walton slides into your chair with his latest story and you feel like a weight is lifted off of you. The man once more touches you gently and gives you lingering cheek kisses as he goes over to set or costumes.

Friday night rolls around and it’s going to be a long one. You fiddle with a few of your brushes when the door opens quickly.

“We are being released. There was a fire on stage, and it looks like we are out at least until Monday,” Liz rolls in looking flustered, her normal perfect facade gone. She looks haggard and frazzled.

“There was a fire on set?” You ask sitting up and feeling much more awake. Panic shoots down the back of your neck.

“Yep, green sparky left a light on too close to set.” Liz sat in the chair grabbing cleaner. You had stayed in the trailer to start tucking things away as Walton was off-screen for the first three setups. You are out the door before she has time to say more. You stop at costumes knocking at the door.

Rebeccas opens it and looks down at you, she looks flustered but still has a smile on. “Hey, I am guessing you heard about the fire?”

“Yes, I did,” You say trying not to sound panicked, even though your mind is racing. The thought of him being hurt makes you nauseous. “Umm -is.”

Rebecca looks into the trailer, “Walt. You almost done in there?” There is a bunch of commotion going on in the trailer, with people moving back and forth, and different actors in various stages of undress.

You looked at her puzzled at how she knew you were looking for him.

Rebecca turns back to you, “He never shuts up about you, so figured that’s why you are here,” She replies, and you immediately feel flustered, clearly rumors are moving again.

“Oh- umm- Yeah. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.”

Walton pops his head above Rebecca his fingers nimbly button up his shirt. “Be right out.”

You blush and look away, “Sorry, I should probably go.”

Rebeca waved her hand at you, “Your secret is safe with me,” she winked. You wonder not for the first time if you were the only one who was never included in the rumor mill.

Walton pops down the stairs, and has on grey button-up sleeves rolled up, navy wash jeans. He tilts his head when he looks at you. You let out a sigh seeing him unscathed.

“You okay?” He asks, his hand touching your shoulder. You nod your head, turning to walk back towards the makeup trailer. You really don’t want to make a scene right now, there were way too many eyes on you both right now.

“I know I said we should go to the bar tonight,” Walton says, his fingers brushing against yours. You try not to grab his hands, just to know he is still there. “But maybe we should get take out at my place?”

You get to the trailer, unable to stop looking around. He looks right at you, the way he could focus on you was both flattering and unnerving. Especially as you are trying to keep things under wraps.

“Have to stop and grab a few things first.” You say trying to keep your voice from carrying. “Have you pick me up again?”

He smiles, “I would pick you up any day.”

You are bright red, as you open the door and follow the man into the trailer.

***

A large paper bag of Chinese food was acquired, along with a couple of bottles of wine. You both devest at the door, slipping off your shoes, and placing the wine on the counter. You watch him move around the kitchen. Practice ease, you watch his muscles move under his shirt. You were tired as anything but being in his kitchen, waiting to eat greasy Chinese food couldn’t have been more perfect.

You grab plates from him, laying out the smorgasbord board of different food. The two of you scooped a little of everything, before sitting down at the table and pouring some wine.

“I feel like I should apologize for having you over instead of going out somewhere,” Walton says taking a sip of wine. “I don’t want you to think I am taking advantage of you being here.”

You chuckle, “Don’t know what you mean Mr. Goggins. I thought you invited me to your place to play some chess and listen to swing jazz.”

Walton nearly loses his food at the comment, his hand covering his mouth. “Swing jazz? How old do you think I am?”

“Oh you got to be at least in your seventies,” You tease back taking a bite out of your spring roll.

Walton coughs, “I didn’t realize you where into grandfathers.”

You choke a little, “Well to be fair,” You wave your hand, “I am usually good with trying anything once.”

Walton sips on his wine eyebrows raised, “Anything?”

You nod your head, a smile spreading across your face. “Can’t say I don’t like it unless I try it.”

He puts his glass down, watching you carefully as you finish your cup. “I could make some coffee while we clean up.”

You grab his plate stacking it with your own as he grabs the glasses. You two make it over to the kitchen, there is tension in the air as you clean things up. He grabs a French press out of the cupboards aswell as some coffee and cups.

You slide over to the counter and sit on top of it. Feet kicking back and forth as you watch the man ready things. Flicking the kettle on to heat the water. He comes over and moves himself in between your legs.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He whispers, placing hands on either side of your hips. Face inches from you.

You wrap your hands lazily over his shoulders, opening your legs to let him in closer.

“No, you haven't today.” You lean in to kiss him, kissing him will never get old.

“You are stunning.” He whispers against your ear. Sending shivers down your spine. The kettle clicks and he's moving away from you. You watch him pour grinds and then water into the press.

“Why did you wait so long to ask?” You inquire, moving your feet back and forth. Letting yourself briefly wonder if maybe the question was too forward.

He turned to look at you, bottom lip caught in his teeth. “Umm-”

Leaving the coffee he came over to you. Cheeks slightly pink, he tucked his hair behind his ear.

“I - ahh. I didn't think you'd want to go out with me.”

Your mouth falls open, “Are you serious?”

He shrugs, fingers fiddling with the outer seam of your jeans. You take his hand in yours using the moment to drag him back between your legs. Once he is there, you tip Walton’s head up to look right at you.

“You're so dumb,” You grin leaning in to kiss him. He chuckles and leans into the kiss, strong arms wrapping around you. “I am also dumb, 'cause I thought the same thing about you.”

Walton pulls back looking at you, eyebrows scrunched. “Didn't you just call me dumb? Seems like we both may have missed the sign somewhere along the way.”

You grin one hand finding its way to rub along his jawline. “Took us long enough.”

He smiled, “Trevor is never going to let us live this down.”

You let out a groan, “He is beyond impossible. I am gonna have a small textbook of text messages.”

Walton’s eyes glint, and he pulls his phone out. “Why don't we give him an update.”

You can't help but laugh, “Oh absolutely!”

Walton flips his phone on turning on the camera he flips it to the two of you. You lean in and kiss him deeply as he clicks the button. The phone is placed on the counter as you wrap your legs around his waist. You pull out a deep moan that rumbles out of his chest when you bite at his bottom lip. It doesn't stop you from pushing your tongue in. Rocking your hips a little, the room feels hot.

Walton pulls away, breathless, “If you keep doing that, I am liable to forget about our coffee.”

You let out a sigh, “I suppose a little coffee couldn't won't hurt.” You unwrap yourself from him.

He moves down the counter as you slide off it. He mixes your coffee just the way you like it, handing you the cup as he fixes his own. You wait, watching him work, he turns and gestures toward the living room. You make your way over to the couch.

Folding yourself up on the end of the sofa, tucking one leg underneath the other. You sip on the coffee, it is delicious and beats any store bought. Walton comes over and sits beside you, taking a long sip of his drink. Looking out the windows you can see part of downtown and the north shore. The lights still dazzling, as the evening wore on.

“I know, before, I said I wasn’t sure you would want to go out with me,” He said looking out at the window as he spoke. “I tried, unsuccessfully to give you space. But the further I got away the more I missed being near you. Then when we went out for sushi, it all just kinda clicked. This isn’t conventional.” He gestures between the two of you. You hold your cup listening intently.

“I am, ahh, older than you. And my life is not exactly straightforward. I don’t take relationships lightly, not that this is that. Or.” You can’t suppress the smile as he tries to explain himself. “I am terrible at this. I don’t want to move too fast, but also. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You put your cup down, and gesture for him to come closer. He places his cup down beside yours and moves over. Patting your lap, he slips down and lays his head on your lap. You run your hands through his hair, his eyes close and he hums softly against your legs.

“I can’t tell you what's going to happen,” You say softly, “I am also not good at this, but I am willing to try. However fast or slow you want to go. As for the age thing, I don’t care, it’s never bothered me.”

Walton’s breath slows and his hand slips under your thigh holding you close. You sit there a while longer, letting him just relax against you. Again you are struck by how simple it is, to just sit here with a warm cup of coffee and the city lights. You could get used to weekends like this. But as always he is moving sitting up and smoothing out his hair, grabbing his cup of coffee and taking a sip.

“Would you like to come to bed with me?” He asks, you turn away from the lights. His eyes fixed on you, not hungry but curious.

“I would like that a lot,” You say licking your lips and heart pounding in your chest.

Walton stands up offering you a hand, which you take, pulling yourself to your feet. The coffee is left on the table as you follow him. Fingers laced together like they are two puzzle pieces. You pass by the guest room and there is a door at the end of the hallway. He opens it and you walk into the large room. There are floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the sea, a large king-sized bed on a wooden platform. The room is sparse, with two side tables with lamps. A large walk-in closet to your left along with a bathroom beside it. You wonder for a moment how often he has brought others back here. The thought lingers in the back of your mind as you wander over to sit on the edge of the bed. Walton has disappeared into the bathroom.

“I think I have another toothbrush in here,” He calls out, poking his head around the corner.

You smile and move towards him, “I thought you wanted to take things slow?”

He’s blushing again and handing you the unopened toothbrush, “I–I umm. Just figure I’d offer.”

You move into the bathroom grabbing some toothpaste off the counter and leaning against it, “I appreciate it, besides don’t want to have coffee breath. Would you happen to have makeup wipes?”

Walton thinks for a moment before he scoots you out of the way, as you brush your teeth. He pops up with a bottle of cleanser and a fresh hand towel. “I knew I had it here somewhere.”

You grin and thank him, he brushes his teeth before disappearing again. You take the moment to clean off your face and neck. Looking into the mirror you got a permanent smile on your face. Letting out a happy sigh you finish up, telling yourself not to put the cart in front of the horses. You walk out and Walton is standing there shirtless, blinds drawn. He slips into a grey cotton t-shirt, that you currently hate, and black sweatpants. Sensing you staring he turns around to see you.

Chapter seven

*tiny cliffhanger. I always need at least one 😜*

*As always if you'd like to be tagged let me know! *

*reblogs, likes, and comments appreciated! *

#walton goggins #wallton goggins x reader #x reader #fan fiction #fantasy #fluff #fanfic #writing #angst #hurt comfort #au #alternate universe #older man x younger women #down the rabbit hole

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headfullof-ideas · 2 months ago

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Rivalries (at least ones that aren’t in the pre-existing lore, Ala Viggo and riders, Alpheus and Ant, so on and so forth…)

I genuinely don’t really see Snotlout and Alpheus getting along. Their personalities clash too much, and Snotlout just gets beef with anyone new in this story, due to trying to protect the other riders. Alpheus being a little pompous and cocky and ‘so this is the brainless muscle-head?’ Upon first meeting didn’t really help either. Lots of petty pranks and fights between these two, with poor Ant playing mediator, albeit reluctantly due to not knowing Alpheus too well himself, he just knows Snotlout. Honestly I’m not sure about Alpheus and Dagur either, i don’t know if Alpheus would play nice with someone named Deranged, though I do see Dagur enjoying messing with him, but that’s neither here nor there-

Kaiko and Viggo have had beef for longer than Fontaine has been alive, so Viggo starts sweating when he realizes that Ant is Kaikos kid. She also scares him a little bit…or a lot a bit. Assassination attempts have been had, on both sides. As well as petty smack downs with whatever they can get their hands on. Like the drawing above, where little-sibling-extraordinaire Viggo (not to be confused to these two being siblings, just that their fights can resemble sibling fights sometimes) is utterly losing.

Camicazi and Mad Madeline are a case of thief meets thief, but Madeline is better at it than Camicazi, with the additional bonus of being a sea-faring pirate, and also being nearly five to six years younger than Camicazi. And Camicazi HATES someone being better at something than she is, especially something she insists on being so good at. So naturally they clash. Maddie spends most of it just messing with Camicazi, much to the older girls infuriation.

I would like to clarify that Astrid and Fontaine’s rivalry has nothing to do with race, though Astrid has never really interacted with a person of color due to the overall whiteness of the Archipelago, Ant being the only person with darker skin she’s ever met till she leaves the Archipelago. No, it’s because they’re both stubborn, Astrid hates being called out on her not-so-great actions, and being held responsible for those actions, and Fontaine loves pointing this out and poking the metaphorical sleeping bear that is an easy-to-piss-off Astrid Hofferson. There may be a bit of petty grudge-holding due to what Fontaine has heard about stuff that happened between Astrid and Ant too, which also pisses Astrid off. Fontaine has the same flaw of being incapable of acknowledging her own mistakes though, so Astrid makes plenty of jabs in her direction too with the same effectiveness.

Heather is obsessed with Kari’s dragon Ardyn, and Kari is mad about the time she straight up tried to run off with Ardyn. This is probably the pettiest of rivalries here, next to Camicazi and Madeline anyways. Heather pretty much just pulled an Alpheus and started having beef with a thirteen year old for no real reason beyond spite and petty rage. Granted, little Kari is a menace who is not above biting, and has bitten Heather, so there’s some of a reasonable grudge there. (Especially not helped by Heathers older brother teaching the little brat how to shoot a crossbow-) It’s hard to feel justified venting to someone about it though when you’re reminded you’re getting into squabbles with a tweenager a head and a half shorter than you who hasn’t even started puberty yet. Heather’s younger than Alpheus is in the show, so it’s a little less embarrassing when she loses, especially when it’s over something wildly different

These are the ones I can think of, and I’ve got doodles i want to draw to further elaborate on these dynamics, that might not come to light in the actual story itself. I dunno yet, we’ll see. I’m juggling a couple of things irl at the moment, so new stuff might be a bit scarce, but i’m hoping to send chapter three to my beta in a few days! So hopefully chapter three comes out sometime in the next few weeks

#if it were a little hard to tell. alpheus is wearing that giant trench coat he has in his concept #and it’s upturned over his head #don’t ask where Kaiko got the flipper im too lazy to come up with an excuse #lets say spite #i got really lazy with the coloring #I’ve also finally finally FINALLY settled on something or another for the Nektons #especially Fontaine #in regards to design anyways im still working out backstory and lore and location #fontaine’s going to actually end up with two designs. as there’s a time skip down the line #im also playing around with buffstrid in this story #she’s a baby buffstrid in the beginning #but she gets a little more buff further down the line #not nearly as buff as I’ve drawn Scarl and Agatha #but she doesn’t have noodle arms either #she throws a giant ax around everywhere. give the girl some muscle!#the deep 2015 #the deep cartoon #httyd #httyd/the deep crossover #alpheus benthos #snotlout jorgenson #httyd hookfang #kaiko nekton #httyd viggo #httyd oc #the deep oc #mad madeline #fontaine nekton #astrid hofferson #httyd heather

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slytheringlambert91 · 2 months ago

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No, Tim, You’re Not Being Kidnapped! (Except Maybe You Are…) Chapter 3

Chapter 3 is finally posted!

The next morning, Bruce meets them in the kitchen.

“Morning, boys, I thought I’d drive you to school today, that alright?”

Jason nods, grabbing some fruit off the counter as Alfred places their plates on the counter.

Tim only stares, somewhat bewildered. Jason guesses he’s never had his parents drive him to school, or at the very least it has been a very, very, long time.

Jason reacted the same way the first time Bruce drove him to school.

When they reach the school, Jason and Tim get ready to get out of the car.

“My meeting with the principal is after school,since I have a morning client meeting to get to, ok Jay?”

“Ok, see ya, B!”

“Have a good day, boys.”

Tim watches Bruce pull away, a somewhat mystified look on his face.

“Is it always like this?”

“Nah, most days Alfred brings me to school,”

“Do I need to take the bus after school, since you guys have your meeting?”

“Hell no. It shouldn’t take too long, Bruce can drive both of us home afterward. There’s no point in you taking the bus.”

English that day is…interesting, to say the least. When he walks in—and hands in the work from last class—Mrs. Campbell barely acknowledges him. After that, she opens class the same way she did before, but with a slightly more creative writing prompt: “What’s your favorite piece of literature and why?”

Jason keeps his head down and does his work, and aside a few pointed comments about respecting elders and whatnot, and the weird smugness oozing from her—as if she’s actually won, Jason wants to roll his eyes at the thought—class is peaceful.

It’s strange how peaceful it is.

Until the end, that is.

“Mr. Todd, see me after class. Everyone else is dismissed.”

Tim hesitates, eyeing Jason and Mrs. Campbell, then mouths “don’t do anything stupid,” at him.

Rude. He’s never done a stupid thing in his life.

Once everyone’s left, Mrs. Campbell calls him up to her desk.

“Just to confirm, the meeting with Mr. Wayne is after school, correct?”

“Yes, I—”

“Yes, ma’am. Not that I’d expect a street rat like you to understand, but in civilized society we respect our elders.”

“I respect those who deserve it. You definitely do not.”

“Why, you little—” she cuts herself off, takes a breath, and starts again. “You better fix your attitude, Todd. you might just find yourself dumped back on the street, seeing as how you are just Mr. Wayne’s ward. He’ll get tired of you soon enough, I assure you,”

No, Jason knows Bruce won’t abandon him, Bruce wouldn’t do that.

But what if—

No.

“Actually, ma’am, dumping me back on the streets would be child abandonment regardless of the situation, and he wouldn’t do that. Furthermore,” He revels in the shocked look on her face when he throws out a ‘big’ word, “I was adopted two years ago. Legally I am his child, and I would appreciate it if you recognized that. Now, I need to be going to class, seeing as how this little—pointless—meeting has made me late to biology.” He stalks out without waiting for a response, leaving the teacher to stew.

Bruce isn’t going to abandon him…right?

No.

No, he promised he wouldn’t.

Jason just needs to trust him, that’s easy, right?

Bruce has proven to be very trustworthy.

He’d thought he’d gotten over this fear, Bruce had shown him time and time again he wasn’t going to abandon Jason, but…

What if it was all a lie?

Only 3 and a half more hours. He needs to focus.

When he got to math a bit later, Tim met his gaze, “Everything ok?” He mouths.

Jason nods, and finds his seat.

“Why are you late, Jason?” The teacher, Mr. Gilbert, asks.

“Mrs. Campbell wanted to speak with me, she didn’t give me a note or anything though. If you want to confirm, you'll have to ask her.”

Mr.Gilbert grumbles under his breath, but turns back to the board and resumes teaching.

Jason struggles to focus, even though he knows he should. Math is his worst subject, and yet he can’t drag his thoughts from the whirlwind of fears running through his mind.

Bruce could get tired of him, nevermind that he hasn’t in the last 3 and a half years.

Jason runs through the rest of the day on autopilot, barely managing to take notes in his classes.

Tim meets him outside his last class of the day, History, and they head to the office to wait on Bruce. He leans against the wall, while Tim finds a seat on a bench outside the door.

When Bruce comes in a few minutes, he barely quirks an eyebrow at Jason’s blank stare. He squeezes Jason’s shoulder, snapping him out of his daze.

“Everything ok, Jay?”

Jason just nods mutely, not meeting Bruce’s gaze.

“He’s been quiet since after English.”

“Why? What happened in English?”

“The class itself was normal, but Mrs. Campbell made Jason stay back to talk to her afterwards. I don’t know what she said.”

Jason shoots a glare at Tim, “S’not a big deal. Let’s just get the meetin’ over with.” He scuffs his shoe on the ground and pushes off the wall.

Bruce sighs, but lets it go. He leads them into the office after quietly telling Tim they’ll be right back. He keeps a hand on Jason’s shoulders, and he has to force himself not to lean into it.

Bruce greets the secretary with his most charming ‘Brucie’ smile, trying to ignore how tense his son feels. He doesn’t know what that teacher said to him, but by god if he isn’t going to find out. This isn’t like Jason.

Jason meets everything with a sarcastic smile or sharp comment. He doesn’t shut down and go quiet.

The secretary waves them into the office, and he sees who he presumes is Mrs. Campbell sitting Primly in a chair across from the principal.

“Ah, Mr. Wayne, Now that you’re here we can finally begin.” The principal—Dave Horton, maybe?—begins. “I’ll be honest, I am very disappointed we are already having another meeting to discuss Mr. Todd’s behavior, it is only the 3rd day of school, after all.”

“His name is Jason Todd-Wayne and I expect you to respect that.” Bruce’s voice is hard, he is sick of dealing with this asshole of a principle. He’d had enough issues with Dick, and then it only got worse when Bruce adopted Jason. He should have just put Jason in another school.

“Yes, of course. Frankly, Mr. Wayne, I don’t know that Jason belongs at Gotham Academy. He is clearly uncivilized, and unable to meet our standards.”

“What makes you say that? Jason has been near the top of his class since I first enrolled him.”

“Be that as it may, he refuses to respect the faculty and staff, and if this continues we’ll—”

“Does he ‘disrespect’ the faculty that don’t make him feel inferior or question his place here? Because from what I’ve heard, it was Mrs. Campbell who started it, by refusing to acknowledge Jason’s proper name.”

The principal opens his mouth to respond, but Mrs. Campbell beat him to it.

“I was merely reminding Mr. Todd that his place here is, ultimately, temporary. He doesn’t belong here, and eventually, you will send him back to Crime Alley where he belongs.”

When he felt Jason tense even more under his hand, he realized what had probably triggered the borderline dissociation, the teacher had managed to hit Jason’s most deep-rooted fear.

“I don’t think that’s your decision. Jason is my son, in every sense but biologically. What would ever give you the idea that I would willingly abandon him?”

“Well, isn’t that what happened to the gypsy? You took him in, and now you haven’t been seen together in public in a very long time. Clearly you got tired of him and replaced him with a younger model.” The teacher says it all with a wicked smirk on her face, and hot rage washes over Bruce. Before he can react though, she’s continuing.

“I mean, it only makes sense, right? Why else would you replace the old one as soon as he becomes an adult, if you’re not using them?”

Before Bruce can respond, Jason is lunging at Mrs. Campbell. He barely manages to catch him before he hits her.

“Jay, stop. Either calm yourself down or go sit outside with Tim.”

Jason glowers, but settles himself down. “Fine.”

“I did not replace my son, Mrs. Campbell. He had career aspirations that led him to Bludhaven. I couldn’t just ignore Jason when I saw he needed help. Dick and I are still on perfectly good terms, and there was no replacing of anyone. However, I am wondering how the school is going to replace my funding once I pull my son from your school? Need I remind you of the generous donations I make yearly, on top of my tuition payments?” The principal paled, “You do realize that’s inevitable, right? I won’t stand for this treatment of my son. I shouldn’t have allowed it to continue for so long, but the truth was I was too optimistic in hoping for change. We’re done here. I will be pulling my son, and all my funding, out of this school.” Bruce revels in the shocked faces of the faculty. How could they expect this wouldn’t be the outcome? Maybe if they had actually been respectful and at least attempted to apologize and change their behavior, this wouldn’t have happened.

But they didn’t, they were rude from the start. Of course Bruce isn’t going to leave his son in a hostile environment.

Speaking of his son, Jason seems to have shut down again after his outburst. Bruce loops an arm over his shoulder and steers him out of the room.

Tim stands as soon as he sees them come out the door, wringing his hands nervously. Jason forces a smile and pulls out from underneath Bruce’s arm.

Hm. He’d have to talk to Jason about the abandonment thing again.

“Alright, let’s get going. I’m sure Alfred will have more cookies or other snacks prepared for you when we get home.” He leads the way out to the car, vaguely aware of Tim trying to break Jason out of whatever trance he’s in.

By the time they get home, Jason is engaging a bit more.

“C’mere, Jay.” Bruce gestures when they get out of the car. Tim steps slightly awkwardly off to the side, and Jason rounds the car to stand in front of Bruce.

“Yeah?”

Bruce doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms to offer a hug. Jay collapses against him and buries his face in Bruce’s chest.

“You know I love you, right lad? I’m never giving you up. I promise.” Bruce barely feels him nod, but doesn’t say anything else.

At some point he opens an arm to Tim, who hesitates for a while before joining.

Bruce loses track of how long he stands there holding his son and the boy he is fighting to get guardianship of, but eventually they do separate.

When they get into the manor, Dick is waiting for them.

…on the banister.

On the 2nd floor.

“‘Sup Dickhead. Ya come just to be a jackass again?”

Well, at least Jason’s in a better mood.

“...Should we be concerned?” Tim leans over to ask Bruce.

“He does this all the time, he’ll be fine.”

“You’re one to talk, but no. I came to apologize. Bruce and I had a disagreement,” Dick pointedly doesn’t look at Bruce, “and I took my frustrations out on you and Tim.” Dick flips off the balcony, and Bruce swears his heart stops until he is landing safely in a roll.

“Dammit, Dick, how many times have I told you not to do that?”

“Yeah, yeah, B. It’s fine. Anyway, I’m sorry guys. You didn’t deserve that. Especially you Tim—”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, Jay. Tim, you’re a guest, you definitely didn’t deserve my anger yesterday.”

Tim just nods, seemingly unsure of how to respond to that.

“Dick.”

“Language.”

“It’s his name!”

“Not when you say it like that.” Jason just rolls his eyes, and it’s a useless battle. “Dick, you staying? I’m sure Alfred has a snack in the kitchen.”

“Nah, I got practice in a bit. I’m already running a bit late since I was waiting for you guys.” He starts sauntering towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “I’m taking the Ducati.”

“Wait—” Bruce rushes to follow Dick.

“Right. That’s our cue to leave, they’re gonna get in a fight about safety again or somethin’.” Jason steers Tim towards the kitchen. “Whatcha wanna do today?”

“Is it always like this?”

“What?”

“Families. Are they always like this?”

“I dunno, I think this one’s jus’ fucked.”

“I love it. It feels so relaxed.”

“I think we gotta work on your definition of relaxed, Tim Tam. Those two are always at each other’s throats.”

“At least they’re around.” Tim quiets, staring at his feet.

“There is that, at least”. Jason’s voice gets more somber too, and they stay silent until they reach the kitchen.

The rest of the day passes smoothly, with Jason and Tim relaxing in the library.

Everything is fine.

Until Tim gets a call, his face immediately pales and he rushes to leave the room.

********

Tim’s heart drops the second he reads his mother’s name flashing across his phone.

He rushes from the room, entering another one down the hall.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Timothy, what is this nonsense about you not being at the house?”

”I am at the Wayne’s, you’ve always said connections are important, so I assumed you would approve of endearing myself to them.”

”Well you assumed incorrectly, Timothy, that is just absolute nonsense! Why would I want you to associate with a street rat and a gypsy? And that nuisance of a business man is in no way suitable for your company!”

”But—“ the phone is gently pulled from his grasp before he can finish his argument, and a quick glance shows Bruce holding it.

Jason tugs him out of the room, “C’mon, Bruce will handle it.”

They head to the sitting room and set up the game console.

The next hour or so passes slowly, with Tim’s anxiety building.

”What could be taking them this long?”

”Dunno, Bruce should be back soon though.”

Tim can’t focus on the game anymore, he drops his control and his fingers tap on his thigh.

Jason glances quickly at him, “It’ll be fine Timbo, promise.”

Before Tim can respond, Bruce comes back downstairs and hands Tim his phone.

“It’s handled, officially nothing has changed, but privately I will have custody of you for as long as they are out of the country.”

Something in Tim relaxes, he loved his parents, but after seeing how the Waynes act with each other—though they are so far from being a normal family—-he can’t help but crave that.

He wants a real family, not a mausoleum of a house.

The relief must show on his face, because Bruce is pulling him into a hug.

“Does it make me a bad person to feel relieved?” Tim mumbles against Bruce’s chest.

“Of course not, sweetheart, you just recognize that this isn’t normal, and you want something closer to it. You’re not a bad person, I promise.” Bruce’s voice is low, and he’s running a hand through Tim’s hair soothingly. He shifts back, looking at Jason and then Tim, “C’mon, it’s getting late. Why don’t you guys go get ready for bed?”

They both nod and scurry upstairs.

Jason barges into Tim’s room after he brushes his teeth, and scoops the boy off his feet. “How the fuck are you this light?”

“Rude.”

”Whatever.” Jason somehow carries Tim all the way to BRuce’s room, and again a=barges in without knocking.

”Bruce!”

An amused smile spread across Bruce’s face, “What’s up, Jaylad?”

”Hold the child. He doesn’t get enough physical affection.” He drops Tim on the bed, then shoves him over and climbs in after him. “Bedtime.”

”Ok, Jay.” Bruce laughs, then switches off the lamp and wraps his arms around both his boys.

@morganbritton132 @the-booty-crusader @ursulasteffany @raphyo @passing-through-bd @aidenxcz @seannasideblog @suffering-for-eternity @malflora @crow-in-trash @fhteehj @mysecret02 @idekwutoput @comicbooker16 @narration-ator @wothmzn @sp0rksupremacy @montywithchildhoodtrauma @nix-illustrating @shinelie

#jason todd #batfam #batman #my fics #jason todd fic #tim drake #and sweet jason #fic writing #fics #bruce wayne #No capes au

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jasntodds · 1 year ago

Text

Petrichor [3]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 15,168

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, oral (m receiving), a smidge of angst, violence, blood, description of bruises, mentions of scars, titans isn’t descriptive about Jason’s dad so I’m pulling from Arkham Knight verse because I can, mentions of abuse (Arkham knight!canon),mentions of previous homelessness, mentions of being tortured and held captive

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: Hey, look we’re getting somewhere lol There’s so much in this chapter that comes up later so I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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A couple of days later, Bruce informs Jason and you he has a Justice League thing so he’ll be out of town for the next few days. He mostly just asks you both not to get into trouble while he’s gone. No joyrides in the Batmobile and no riding motorcycles in the Manor. Jason has a smirk while Bruce said it, as if he does all of it on purpose. But, you both agree to be on your best behavior while he’s gone. And this first day, you are.

For most of the day, you hang around the manor together. You have a few training sessions, you not getting so lucky this time but it’s training. And you help Jason make a pasta dish for dinner. The day itself is pretty casual with nothing really happening but the two of you actually feel really comfortable. Bruce leaves you both alone for the most part but he’s not here at all and it’s kind of nice having the manor to yourselves.

“So, he just leaves you here alone when he has a thing?” You ask, plopping down next to Jason on the couch, practically sitting on top of him.

Jason snaps his attention away from his book to look at you with furrowed brows. “Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “Whole place to myself.” He stretches out one of his arms, as if to be claiming the manor.

“Sounds boring.” You state, leaning your head back.

The manor is already big. It already can feel a little less than homey. It’s too big for even three people to be living here. Boring wasn’t quite the right word, but saying lonely seemed a bit much. But, that’s what you think. It would be lonely being here alone. The tower felt empty even and you had Gar and Krypto, then Conner when he woke up. It just seems a little sad to you.

“Well, you’re here, can’t be too bored now.” The corner of Jason’s mouth perks into a grin.

“You’re right, I’m very entertaining.” You let out a laugh as the sarcasm hangs from your words and you pick your head up.

Jason furrows his brows and he’s not letting you have that one. He gives you a shove, not too hard but enough to make you fall to the side.

“Hey!” Your laugh reverberates against the walls and the warmest smile comes to Jason’s face. “That’s my thing.”

“No, that was entertaining.” Jason laughs.

“Asshole.” You groan and instead of getting up, you lay on your back and swing your legs over him.

“Fuck you.” Jason chuckles and you have this grin that makes his stomach spin. “Hey,” Jason swings his arm over the back of the couch, turning to face you, careful to keep your legs on him.

“Hey.” You mock him and he’s got that look. You know he’s about to have a bad idea that you will absolutely go along with.

“Wanna do something tonight?” The right side of his mouth tugs up and he wiggles his brows at you.

“There is something mildly unsettling about you asking me that.” You blink up at him and Jason gives you a devious smirk. “What exactly were you thinking?”

“Wanna do a bust? There’s a group of dealers near Crime Alley, could take ‘em down.”

“Mmh,” You sit up, getting closer to his face. “And why exactly would we do that now when Bruce isn’t here?”

Jason shrugs, tilting his head to the right slightly. “Could be fun.”

“Oh, for fun?” You mock him. “Because hanging out here with me isn’t fun enough?”

Jason glances between your eyes and lips, landing on your eyes again. “You could spice it up a bit.”

“Oh, I could?” You let out a booming laugh, leaning back slightly. “Do tell, Jay.” You close more the distance between you this time.

Jason feels his cheeks start to warm. “Got the whole Manor to ourselves.” Jason avoids the question, letting you imagine whatever you want.

You smirk at him. “That’s forward.” You let out a laugh.

“I didn’t say shit. I’m just saying, whatever you’re thinking is all you, babe.”

“Okay, so right here on the couch? Right now?” You quip and Jason’s heart completely stops in his chest, eyes bugging out of his head.

“I’m not sure how, but that’s a fucking trap.” Jason states and he wishes it wasn’t.

“Maybe.” You chuckle softly. It’s not a trap. “When did you wanna go, Batboy?” Your eyes widen and of course you aren’t going to turn this down. You aren’t ready to get out there fully yet but this is just you and Jason. It will likely be fun as long as this goes better than Deathstroke.

Jason smirks down at you. “Get ready now?”

You roll your eyes. “Patience is a virtue, Jay.”

“So is kicking ass, Babe.”

You let out a sigh and lean back, swinging your legs off of him. “Fine. Taking the bike?”

“Hell yeah.” Jason states watching as you get up. “You should be able to get your license soon. You’re doing pretty good.”

“Well, if we’re going to be doing this shit together, it’s a lot more efficient to take one bike rather than two.” You shrug. “Less noise.”

“Pretty sure you just like holding onto me.” Jason offers with a shrug.

“Yeah, that too, I guess.” You roll your shoulders dramatically and sometimes you might just like to fill his ego a little.

The two of you get up and head your separate ways to get ready. You’re actually kind of excited to get back out there. You haven’t dared to ask Bruce if you could tag along during patrol. That seems weird to you and that’s Jason’s whole thing. Patrolling with Batman. You’d never overstep on his thing. But, this? This is just the two of you and this time, it’s on your turf. You both know the city. You both know the bad guys, Jason a lot more than you but you both know. You both know all of the ins and outs, how to get away. All of it. This isn’t Jerry or Deathstroke. These are dealers who are likely dealing to kids, getting them killed and this shouldn’t be too difficult.

Jason and you take his bike to Crime Alley and to a warehouse that’s currently being used. It’s always a warehouse. Can’t they get a little more creative? But, the two of you have a plan. You go in and you bust them. Beat them up a bit, tie them up, and call it good. You’ll call the GCPD with a tip and be home free. It’s a simple plan. Jason’s been looking into them a little bit and none of them are master criminals. He’s pretty confident and you trust his research.

The two of you use your grappling hooks to access the roof and entire through the rooftop door. You’re quiet as you head to the loft, ducking behind some large and dusty boxes. You both peek around the boxes and get a look at five men with several boxes around them. There are two men standing at a table, looking to be sorting something. Another man is standing by the door with a rifle. The fourth man is opening the boxes and the last man is standing in front of all of them with his phone in hand.

“Think they’re moving it tonight?” You whisper to Jason as you both duck back behind the boxes.

“Seems that way.” Jason nods. “Guy with the phone probably runs this sorry excuse of a business.”

“You take him and I’ll take the so-called guard?” You question.

Jason shakes his head and he doesn’t like that idea very much. “No, I got him.”

“You sure?” You ask and you’re suddenly feeling uneasy about it.

Jason can handle himself, you’re positive of that. But, he does come home often enough with bruises that it concerns you. And, if you’re being honest, it just seems better for you to go after the one with a long-range weapon. You can shoot acid at him if you need to, you have your knives and your throwing is accurate. Jason’s is too, of course, but you have the extra benefit of the clairvoyance.

“Yeah, I got this, babe.” Jason offers you a grin and while a large part of his reasoning is that he doesn’t want you to deal with a gun and risk getting shot, he always wants the adrenaline boost.

He wants to face the fear head-on because that’s the only way he’ll get over it. At least that’s what he tells himself. He needs to go out there, feel the adrenaline flow through his blood. Through his entire body. He needs the rush of it all. He’s dealt with this before, more than a handful of times. This should be easy.

“Alright.” You suck in a breath. “Be careful, Jay.”

“Always am. You, too.” Jason nods at you and you nod in response, Jason getting a glimpse of a smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, I’ll walk towards the stairs and when I get there, make a distraction.” Jason states. “So that way I don’t get fucking shot.”

“Will do.” You whisper.

“Ready?”

“Hell yeah.” You nod your head and gain a giant smirk.

Jason gets to his feet, keeping his stance so he’s still hidden behind the boxes as he walks past you. He stays behind some of the industrial equipment as he walks closer to the stairs that are closer to the man guarding the door. You get to a crouching position and watch Jason carefully. You can feel the rush coming over you and you’d be lying if you said you don’t miss this feeling. Sure, pain makes you feel alive but so does this. The adrenaline rush of being a situation that’s just a little dangerous, doing something you definitely probably should not be doing. The helping people because that’s what this is all about at the end of the day. The greater good kind of deal. And then there’s the added benefit of working with Jason. You feel alive as you watch him get to the last bit of equipment that can hide him properly so you grab a knife from your belt, readying yourself to move.

You suck in a breath and pop up from the boxes. Your grip on your knife is tight but you’re ready to go as soon as they notice you. Jason is watching you and when he said to cause a distraction, he definitely did not mean that. He absolutely means to knock something over or throw something not be the bait. And if you both weren’t about to do this right now, he might even be a little annoyed by it. The whole point is that you don’t get hurt and you throw yourself in the way of fire. Maybe it’s something he would do.

“Hey, fuckfaces!” You call, getting the attention of the five men. “Come on, it’s a Thursday night, don’t you have anything better to do than distribute drugs?” You quip while the men collectively stare at you in confusion. “I mean, there’s a river you could drown in instead. Maybe head over to Amusement Mile and test your luck there.”

“Shoot her!” The headman yells while the guard points his gun at you.

The throbbing kickstarts in the front of your head just as Jason pops up, projecting the grappling hook into the door and sliding down the wire, kicking the guy in the chest. You use yours to jump down to the main floor just as Jason makes contact. One of the men at the tables pulls out a gun, aiming it at you just as you throw your knife and it connects with his abdomen immediately followed by a second knife just below it. Blood seeps out as the man drops his gun and the other men pull out their guns and the throbbing is located on all of the men as you grab a knife in one hand and the other hand starts to glow.

You don’t want to use the acid but these are not master criminals. And it’s five against two, four of them have guns. You can only throw two knives at a time, the acid can, at the very least, buy you a little bit of time while Jason gets the guard down. Plus, you’re here with Jason and you’re certain using the acid with him around is safe.

Jason wrestles the guy for his gun as you shoot acid at the men with the guns, a good distraction as they try not to get burned. And you use that opportunity to throw a knife at the man in charge, nailing him in the chest and immediately following it with a knife to his thigh as he goes to the ground. Jason gets the gun away and uses it to knock the guard out and starts attacking one of the other men with a gun.

The last guy holds his gun steady at you and you offer him a smile as you move just before the gun goes off. Jason gets his guy down quickly and moves to the guy who still has a gun pointed at you. But this time, the guy turns to Jason and aims it right at his face just as Jason was nearing him. Jason stands just a few inches from the barrel of the gun and you expect him to be fine. To do something. But instead, you’re watching him completely freeze. He doesn’t move. He looks down the barrel of the gun and doesn’t do a single thing. You don’t even think he’s breathing.

“Robin’s got himself a sidekick.” The man quips and you’re thankful this guy seems to be the arrogant type. They’re always the dumb ones. Want to have bragging rights and go on this huge speech about how great they are, wasting time. Boring.

You don’t offer him any reaction, instead, you reach for two knives and throw them both. You hit the man’s neck, the knife sticking out as blood spills out and the other hits his wrist. The tip of the knife hits the main vein and he drops the gun as he falls to his knees and then to his back. You swear you can see Jason sucking in a breath as you walk up to him.

“Thanks.” Jason mutters. “Let’s tie ‘em up and get outta here.” Jason nods his head but before you can get to the rest of your plan, you can hear sirens in closing in on you.

Jason grabs you by the hand, yanking you with him and the two of you take off back where you came. You’re quick to get on the bike and Jason takes off as soon as he feels you secure around his waste. The place starts getting surrounded by GCPD as you’re trying to escape. Jason veers off, almost a little too quickly to dodge one of the cop cars. Unfortunately, the car does see you and starts following you.

“What if we get caught?” You ask through your com system.

“You suddenly worried about getting caught?” Jason quips, swerving around a car.

“No, but you’re Robin and in your suit.” You state.

“We won’t get caught, hold on.” Jason tells you, pulling back the throttle and kicking the bike up into third. Your grip tightens around him, the flashing lights shine behind you.

As you round a corner, Jason spots an alley and veers right into it before the cop makes it all the way around the corner. Jason shuts the bike off in the dark alley, getting off the bike as he takes his helmet off. He walks over the entrance, looking out but still hidden in the shadows. You follow his lead and stand opposite him, looking the other way to see if you can see anything.

Jason glances to you and most of your face is covered in the shadows but he swears you are enthralling. Your breathing is rapid from adrenaline and you’re standing a little close to him. He can’t help but watch you because you really went into this with him. He brings it up and you go with it, you have a plan and stick with it. And you looked out for him tonight when it never should have been your job. And you can handle yourself.

He remembers your first few weeks of training and you were less than good but tonight, you could have taken down all five men by yourself and Jason thinks you’re incredible. Despite it all, you show no fear in any of this. Between Jerry and Deathstroke, you go into this ready to roll and that’s the end of it. Jason finds you courageous and admirable and completely and utterly enthralling. All he wants is you. Him and Rose would do this, but Rose kind of did her own thing. They weren’t really a team but Jason and you work together really well. You look out for each other and you listen to each other. You’re in it together, always. And Jason swears you’re everything to him.

You can feel his stare on you so you look back at him, and you’re almost standing chest-to-chest. The alley is a tight squeeze and you’re so close. You can hear your heart in your ears and your stomach swirls. You can see Jason’s signature smirk in the low light and it makes you almost laugh. He’s here smirking while you’re hiding from the cops and you can’t wipe the smile off of your face. He gets just a big a kick out of this as you do. No one ever understood it. The running from cops thing. It’s fun. Adrenaline-inducing, even knowing you won’t get caught. Jason gets it though and he’s looking at you and you feel exposed in a good way.

“Hey.” You whisper to him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

“Hey.” Jason’s voice is low and his heart is stuck between thunder and stopping. His breath hitches in his throat and he’s so close.

“Hey.” You repeat and you don’t know what else to say.

All you do know is that you’re happy you both did this. You both took down some bad men and you did it together. You swear you wouldn’t have it any other way. Being a vigilante is cool and it’s fun in itself but working with Jason, that’s different. It’s different because it’s him and he makes everything better.

Jason starts leaning his head down closer to you and your entire being completely freezes. You want to close the distance between you but you can’t bring yourself to. You want to kiss him so badly it physically aches the very center of your chest. It’s all you’ve ever wanted to do since the first time you did it.

“Thanks for coming.” Jason’s voice is so low, you barely even hear him.

“I’ll always come with you.” You match the lowness and you reach forward, grabbing his cape in one hand.

Jason glances between your eyes and lips, his breathing growing quicker. And for a split second, he finally has the thought of “fuck it”. He presses his forehead to yours and you brush your nose against his. Neither of you can even breathe properly. Jason can feel your breath ragged against his lips as his mouth runs dry. And it’s as if this is the moment all of this has led up.

A kiss where there are no stakes in it. It’s not because one of you almost died. It’s because you’re running from the cops in an environment where you both feel comfortable and somehow, safe. Safe enough. And Jason’s head swims, almost completely oblivious to the sounds around you or the way his hands are inductively coming to your hips. You close your eyes and you want to exist in this moment for the rest of your life. In this moment where it’s just you and him in a dark alley surrounded by Gotham’s humid air of summer. With this lip brushing yours. And that is all Jason wants, too.

But, then you both hear the sirens and you’re snapped right out of it. You both look to the side, seeing the flashing lights and Jason squeezes your hips, moving you to the side allowing you both to be further in the shadows of the alley. Your heart sinks and you think maybe you should have went for it. It’s bound to happen and you know it. But, you did nothing anyway. And you have never been more disappointed by anything. Jason swears it’s hard for him to commit to it. Like, maybe if you just…did it. No need for a discussion or anything. Maybe you could just do it. There really wasn’t a discussion with Rose, though and that all worked out so well. But, this is you and he thinks kissing you might make things easier. But then he comes back to not wanting his heart broken again. And definitely not wanting to break yours.

“We should get out of here.” Jason clears his throat, his voice still a whisper.

“Yeah, good idea.” You nod your head, grabbing your helmet from the bike.

The two of you get on and Jason drives back to the Manor neither of you saying a word through the entire drive. When you get back to the Manor, Jason heads off to take the suit off and you head to your room to change. You take one of your knives from the belt and put it in between the mattress and bedframe, making sure it’s always there, just in case. You put the rest of her knives on a dresser, laying your belt flat and call it good before grabbing a change of clothes and heading to the shower.

Jason waits for his turn to shower in his room and his hands are still shaking. He tries to convince himself it’s just the adrenaline dump. It happened the first few weeks as Robin. He’d go out with Bruce and he’d be so excited and happy to be there. He’d be out helping, kicking ass with Batman and then he’d come back to the Manor still roaring from the high and his hands would shake from the unfiltered excitement. It’s like his body just didn’t know what to do with the feeling so it just vibrated. But, he knows this is not that.

He froze and you had to bail him out. It sucks and that part scares him even more. What’s he going to do if he can’t come back from this? He can’t be out there being Robin and freeze. He’ll get killed, he’ll get other people killed. He feels weak and useless.

“Your turn.” You offer him a soft smile as you walk into his room.

Jason's thoughts dissolve away as he looks up seeing your hair still wet from the shower. You’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts, something he’s seen in a hundred time but you look really comfortable. Jason thinks if comfort were a person, maybe it’d be you.

“Thanks.” Jason gets up from his spot on the bed and his tired eyes and slight limp don’t go unnoticed.

“You okay, Jay?” You look at him with gentle eyes.

“All good.” Jason shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll be back, you wanna watch something when I get back?” Jason dodges the conversation because he can’t admit that he’s weak to you. He can’t say the words out loud and make them real. He can’t cement them into the universe and he can’t let you know him differently.

You nod and offer him a sweet smile. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ll wait here.” You walk past him and take a seat on his bed. “Did you have a preference?”

“Nope.” Jason lets himself chuckle, looking over his shoulder. “You have alright taste.” He scrunches his nose.

“Shut up. I have a superior taste.” You hold your head up high.

“Sure, you do, babe. Alright, I’ll be back.” Jason lets out a sigh before he heads out of his room.

You look around and you think it’s weird he hasn’t made this place his own. There’s still a framed poster for the Flying Graysons on one wall and besides a bookshelf with several books and clothes on the floor, it doesn’t feel very Jasony. At the tower, he moved a bike into his room, skateboard, and graffiti on the walls. There were things that were his on display. But, not here.

Jason talks a lot of shit about Dick but you kind of wonders if he talks shit about Dick for the same reasons you do. His name is literally Dick, he set that up himself. But, also because it’s easier. Sure, they have bigger problems and Dick was the first Robin, the first son to Bruce Wayne. Sure, and that’s gonna cause it’s own drama because they’re brothers. But, you wonder if it’s also because despite it all, despite Dick being an ass sometimes, he'd look out for all of you.

He let you all exist. When you’d pull a prank, he never got really mad. He let you prank each other, let you prank him. If any of you wanted anything for your rooms or clothes or food or video games or supplies for hobbies, anything, all you had to do was ask and Dick would give you a credit card. He’d join you all for movie nights sometimes, never complaining about it. Dick always acted more like an older brother to all of you than anything else. And you wonder if that’s why Jason acts like he doesn’t like him half the time. It’s a lot easier to fight than admit sometimes Dick isn’t so bad. That someone is actually making an effort when they’re in a position of authority because one day he might leave. He did. Maybe there’s a point to that. But, maybe Dick always a point at the end of the day. And maybe it’s easier because in a way, Jason is kind of Dick’s replacement and that’s probably hard trying to fill his shoes.

Jason froze tonight which definitely seems uncharacteristic. you remember when he fought Dr. Light. You held him off for a minute or so while Jason regained himself. But, it was just a few seconds and Jason dove right in to fight at first anyway. Jason didn’t miss a beat and once he was back on his feet, Dr. Light should have been done for. He would have been if it weren’t for Deathstroke. And you’ve seen the videos. Jason doesn’t freeze. But, tonight he did. And you wonder if he’s been freezing on patrol and that’s why he’s coming home with bruises.

Jason is skilled and he’s been doing this for a while. You expect him to come home injured from time to time, of course, he’s not invincible but the way he talks about it, that they got lucky, it makes you think something is up. He went through something horrible and traumatic and you’re not judging him for that but you’re worried. He looks tired and he’s limping but he didn’t take as single hit to the leg. Jason Todd does not freeze and you’re worried about him.

“What’s up?” Jason asks as he enters his room wearing a black t-shirt and black shorts, his wet hair sticking to his forehead.

You snap your attention back to him, eyes slightly wide and you didn’t realize you’d been sitting here thinking for that long. “Nothing.” You shake your head. “Just…are you sure you’re okay, Jay?” You furrow your brows while Jason walks over to the bed, standing in front of you, quirking a brow.

“Yeah, why?”

The shower helped clear his head. The warmth of the steam usually does it but honestly, the only thing he wants to do right about now is lay down with you. Not this talking shit. He’s fine. Maybe if he says it enough times, he will be.

“You froze tonight.” You state, looking up at him.

“I didn’t freeze.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“I mean…” You trail off. “You paused and I had to bail you out which is fine, of course. It was just weird for you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You watch his face, the way his eyes dart up to the left for a split second before coming back to you.

“I’m fucking fine, alright? It’s not a thing.” Jason snips and he goes to move away but you grab his hand.

“Hey,” You search his face as he turns back around. “It’s you and me, like literally, no one else is even here. What the hell is going on?”

Jason sucks in a breath and he’s really good at lying. He doesn’t want to lie to you but that seems so much better than talking about the terror he’s living through every day. When it’s just you, here at the Manor or walking around Gotham, it distracts him. It distracts him from all of it and you make him feel okay. He doesn’t feel scared around you but then he goes out and it’s like he’s trapped with Deathstroke again. He doesn’t get it and it sucks. It makes him feel useless. Broken. Damaged. So, he lies to avoid ever saying those words to you.

“Okay, look, I hurt my back on patrol last night. It’s fine.”

Your eyes narrow and you don’t believe it. He’s been fine, physically. You are almost certain you would notice because you notice that after your third training session of the day, he’s always favoring his leg. You don’t ask, but you’re always a little cautious when you sit with him or lay with him and you offer to get him things more. Jason is good at hiding pain, he’s been doing it his entire life but he’s also relaxed around you and that’s why you know about his leg. If his back hurt, you’d know.

“You seemed fine earlier?”

Jason shakes his head and shakes his hand from yours, resting both of his hands on your shoulders. “I’m fine, alright? It’s just a pulled muscle, must have aggravated it during sparring today.”

He’s lying. Jason is really good at lying but he’s dodging your eyes and not looking at your lips. You’re gathering that’s his tell. For whatever reason, he’s lying to you and it kind of bothers you. But, it’s Jason and you’re patient with him. He’ll tell you when he’s ready and you accept that. You figure you’ll keep an eye on him a little more than usual and see how it goes. You swear that if you see him slipping again, you’ll talk to Bruce. You’ll call Dick, Gar, Kory, you’ll call everyone you have to to make sure Jason is okay.

“Did you want me to rub your back then?” You offer, looking up at him.

Jason gains a smirk and the back isn’t a total lie. It is sore. It’s not just the leg pain. Conner caught him which saved his life and saved him from any catastrophic injury but he’s noticed his back tends to hurt a bit more ever since. He landed right on top of Conner, on his back. It wasn’t exactly graceful or painless. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong, but it gets sore.

“Are you flirting with me?” Jason smirks, squeezing your shoulders.

Your cheeks start to burn as you suck in a breath. You’re down to play the game again. You tilt your head barely to the right and then back up. “What if I am, Jay?”

Jason lets out a breath, moving his jaw to the left as he grins. “You could be a little better at it.”

Your eyebrows shoot up as your mouth falls open. If he wants to play that game, you’ll play. You lift your hand and slide your first finger into the waistband of his shorts and pull him closer to you, never letting your eyes leave his and Jason feels his heart come up to his throat as he moves closer to you. You bat your eyes at him and you know that won’t be nearly enough to shut him the fuck up. So, you slide your hand from his waistband, to the collar of his shirt and pull him down to you as you lean back, Jason catching himself with his hand. His palms land on the mattress, on either side of your head.

Jason’s breath hitches in his throat as he looks at you. You move your hands to his face, cupping his cheeks and Jason’s mind starts to race with the thundering of his heart. He’s thinking you’re going to actually bring this beyond flirting. He is silently begging to the universe for you to take this beyond flirting. His eyes dart to your lips and he thinks about doing it first, just to win. He thinks about it for a split second but what if you’re just screwing with him like always? Just being flirty? So, he doesn’t move and instead, keeps his eyes on your lips.

You lean up, moving your hand away from his left cheek. He feels your breath hot on his skin and he feels like he’s going to combust right into the stratosphere. You make your way down to his neck and nips at the skin. Jason lets out a soft groan at it, his head dipping and you know you’ve just won. You come back to his cheek, and lick him.

“Ah!” Jason groans, scrunching his nose as he quickly moves his hand to his cheek to wipe the spit off but he’s laughing while you lay back down.

“Was that good enough for you?” You quip and you have this proud smile that Jason thinks might send him into cardiac arrest.

This was definitely good enough for him but Jason likes to play. It’s his game to win and maybe he’s hoping you’ll keep upping your tactics until there is nothing else left to do. Maybe you can meet in the middle.

His brows furrow as he places his hand back down near the side of your head. “Nope, I can do better.”

You let out a laugh and you love the way your heart goes into your stomach. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Take off your shirt and let me rub your back.” Jason’s voice is low and you feel the rollercoaster start between your heart and stomach. And you almost do it just to fuck with him.

“You just wanna see my boobs.” You manage to get out and you hope he doesn’t notice the quiver of your voice.

He does and he gains the most devious grin you’ve ever seen. “I’m not opposed.” Jason chuckles from above you.

“Keep dreaming, Jay.” You grin at him before you clear your throat because if you stay like this, you’ll cave. You’re so certain of that because you’re looking up at him and whenever you’re this close, you get to see just how green and pretty his eyes are. You’re almost certain you’ll never get tired of the shade of green. “So, uh, I think I won that one. Got a pretty noise out of you.” Jason swears he just swallowed his own vocal cord with the comment. It was a pretty noise and you kind of want to see what else you can get out of him. But, that’s not your place. You are friends, despite the fact you both know you are not. “Seriously,” You suck in a breath. “I can rub your back if you think it’ll help. I don’t mind.”

Jason lets out a chuckle and then what seems to be a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment falls from his lips. He pushes himself up, you sitting up with him. “Thanks.” Jason nods his head with a soft smile and gets on the bed.

You beam and you reach for the remote on his nightstand while Jason tugs his shirt over his head. He lays on his stomach, facing the TV while you turns on a show for background. You take a second, looking over at Jason and his back is nicely toned. His shoulder muscles are stretched as he has his hands under his chin to hold his head up and you’d be lying if you didn’t find it very attractive. But, you can’t just stare so you move to sit on top of him so you can rub his back. And that’s when you see it.

You move to look over to his right side where you can see a large blotch of deep maroon peaking around to his back and your entire heart sinks. It doesn’t matter that he’s Robin. That’s not the issue. That will never be the issue. The issue is that yo’uve seen all of these videos, of him as Robin, barely taking hits. Sure, he gets knocked around sometimes, but this seems bad.

“Jay?” You call your voice soft and Jason can tell by your movement you’ve found the bruise.

“It’s fine.” Jason assures you.

“Is it?” You ask. “It looks pretty bad. I mean, I would know.” Jason can hear the worry in your voice and he hates worrying you.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Was this from last night or the night before?”

“Night before.” He thinks about lying to you but that’s not fair. You don’t lie to him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jason looks over his shoulder to see the look of unfiltered concern across your face. “Didn’t want you to fucking worry. I’m fine.” The left corner of his mouth twitches up and he always does that when he’s trying to convince you he’s fine.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I think I’m gonna make you a swear jar but instead it’ll be an ‘I’m fine’ jar.” You quip.

“You know we get hurt out there sometimes. It’s not a thing.” Jason gives you a fake cocky grin.

You know that’s true. Maybe it was a bad night. You’re uneasy about it but he makes a good point. And maybe you’re just worried because it’s him and you’re so sure about your feelings. And tonight happened where he froze and maybe you’re overthinking it. You hope you’re overthinking it.

“Yeah, okay.” You nod your head. “Did you want like ice though? I mean…it is bad.”

“No.” Jason chuckles, turning his head back forward. “I’m alright. Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, okay.” You let out a sigh as you rest your hands on his back, lightly rubbing over his warm skin. You look over his back where you notices a few old scars. There’s one up on his shoulder blade and another down by his left kidney. Your finger traces over the one on his shoulder blade. “Where’s it hurt?” Your voice is so gentle it sends a rush of goosebumps down his spine.

“All over.” Jason has his eyes closed and he doesn’t even realize he answered so easily but it makes you smile softly.

“How’d you get the scars?” You ask as you start at his shoulders.

Jason lets out a groan, no one’s ever done this before. “Uh, shoulder was a fight. Fucker had a knife and I had my fists.”

“Ouch.” Your brows furrow. “Before Robin?”

“Yeah, first year on the streets.”

“How long were on the streets for?” You keep working on his shoulders.

“Four years, in and out of foster care.” Jason lets out a sigh as you work out a knot.

“Wow.” You say quietly and you didn’t realize he was on the streets that long. “That’s a long time.”

“Yeah, it’s alright though.” Jason sucks in a breath. “Worked out, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but that’s still rough. When did you find that school?” You ask and it warms Jason’s heart that you remember.

“I don’t know, after two years I think. Uh, it was winter, cold as shit outside. But, the school was open. It was somewhere warm with a roof. No one to bother me.”

“I’m glad you found that place.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Jason lets out a sigh because he knows that winter would have been tough if not.

The shelters aren’t always a good place. They don’t have a lot of space and there are rules. Jason doesn’t like the rules very much and then you have bad people who don’t have kid’s best interests at heart. The school was safe.

“Wasn’t all bad, I did like that place.”

You get a soft smile as you slide your hands down his back. “Good, I’m glad you had a place to go at least. And it sparked an interest.” You let out a soft laugh and you feel Jason chuckle under you. You tap the other scar gently. “This one?”

“Fight with my dad.” Jason clears his throat. No one knows about that. He really hates talking about it.

You stiffen and you know his dad sucked but you didn’t realize it was like that. You lean over, looking at his face and his eyes are open now, distant and sad. “What do you mean a fight with your dad?”

“Mom and me were better off without him.” Jason clenches his jaw and you get it, your heart breaking for him. And you wonder if he’s ever had a break in his entire life.

“I’m really sorry, Jay.” You trace the scar gently before going back to rubbing his back. “You deserved better.”

Jason laughs softly from under you because that’s a lot easier than letting the world know it hurts. “I’m Robin, babe. All good.”

“You always do that. Something bad happens and you say it’s good because you’re Robin.” You find a knot in his back and start to work on it, Jason groaning from under you. “I mean, it’s great but, uh…” You pause for a few seconds, Jason listening closing. “You just… remember that night with Jerry?”

“Of course.”

“You asked if I felt better and I said no. Do you remember why?”

Jason could never forget what you said. He remembers your entire rant because in your rant about Jerry, he’s the one that felt seen. Because you let him see you. “Because it happened to you.”

“Yeah, like…it didn’t matter if I ran from it or into it because it still fucking happened. I don’t know. You, uh, you just…you got that. You didn’t expect me to be fine about it or okay with it. It happened to me and you accepted that as a part of me but not in that traumatic way but just that it was a part of my life. I don’t really know how to phrase that.” You laugh awkwardly but you have Jason’s undivided attention. “Like, uh, it matters because it happened to me and there’s nothing I can do to erase it but it doesn’t have to matter in a huge way because I have you.” You shrug and you keep your eyes on your hands, trying to get the knot out. Jason can see you from the corner of his eyes. “It matters because it happened to me but it’s not my defying quality and it doesn’t need to be fixed. Just worked through when I’m ready and in a way I feel comfortable with. You, uh, you taught me that.” You clear your throat. “So, I guess the point of that run-on sentence was that you don’t have to do that. Like, brush it off and shit. Not with me anyway. It happened to you to you, too and that’s okay. It’s not your defining quality and you don’t have to be fine or okay with it. With anything bad that happens because you’ll get through it, one way or another and you’ll have me.”

Jason turns his head to look at the TV and no one gets him like you do and he can’t even understand it. His chest physically aches because it means almost too much to him. It’s something he knows he’ll never be able to comprehend. He’ll never understand why he matters to you. Or why you care so much about him. He’ll never understand why you’re like this with him or how he’d ever be good enough for you. He swears he doesn’t deserve you or your kindness and understanding. You went through hell and Jason has seen it. You’re snarky as hell, a fire he can’t put out. He almost thinks if he looks at you too long, he’ll turn into ash. But, here you are, rubbing knots out of his back with gentle fingers and gentle words.

“Thank you.” Jason finally says. “Yeah, I don’t fucking talk about. Never told Bruce. I’m sure he fucking knows but I never told him or Alfred.”

“I won’t tell him.” You assure him. “Dads are the worst.”

“Yeah, fucking right.” Jason shakes his head. “What about you? You were on the streets a year, yeah?”

“Mhm.” You hum. “Mom died and two days later CPS showed up so I bailed. Bounced around shelters and slept under one of the overpasses sometimes.”

“I’m sorry.” Jason says quietly. You really had no time to grieve. You were thrown right into the thick of it. Jason was shipped off to his uncle and then into foster care when his mom and uncle died.

“It's alright, got a lot worse.” You let out a laugh as the sarcasm drips from your words. “No, but, uh, Gotham ya know? It’s home whether I’m on the streets or in fucking Bruce Wayne’s Manor, I guess.”

Jason laughs from under you. “Takes getting used to.”

"No shit, it's fucking weird." You smile softly. "But thank you for asking him to take me in."

Jason looks at you again. "I'd do anything for your ass."

"I'd do anything for you." You repeat back.

And the two of you fall into a comfortable silence while you work on his back. He's tense all over and you don't think he should be. Jason Todd deserves to relax, let his guard down. He doesn't need to be so stressed all of the time. He's too good for it. Life has not been kind to him and you make a silent promise to yourself that if life is going to keep treating him so cruelly, you never will. You'll fight every horrible, terrible, bad thing that comes near him because he should have a break. And you really like him. You really, really, like him.

"You have a nice back." You blurt out.

Jason lets out a booming laugh almost unsure if he heard you correctly. "What?"

"You have a nice back." You repeat, this time with more confidence.

"Thanks?" Jason questions, unsure what else he's supposed to say. In your friendship this far, you've never really complimented each other's appearances. It's something Jason didn't realize until now. There was that one time the first day you met but other than that, you've never said anything to each other. "You've got a nice ass."

You pause, laughing from above him. "Thank you? I guess?"

"You're welcome." Jason answers confidently.

You roll your eyes. "Shithead."

"Babe." Jason clears his throat and that was a deep conversation. Time for some fun again. "Anything else nice about me?" The sarcasm drips from his words like honey.

"Are you digging for a compliment?"

"Nah, but you're the one sitting on my ass and complimenting my back."

"Alright, fine." You let out a sigh and decide to just take the bait and see where it goes with no one home. "I do like your face." You admit and Jason twists his head, nearly shifting his entire body to look at you. "What? I literally told you that the first day I met you."

Jason remembers you doing that to try and distract him. "Thought you were fucking with me."

"Eh, that too but it's true." You shrug. "You gotta nice face." You smile softly, keeping your eyes on his back almost nervous to look at him.

Jason chuckles and you have a nice face, too. "Sit up for a sec."

"Uh, okay?" You question, sitting up on your knees and Jason shifts under you, turning around to face you. You feel your stomach flip and your heart start to race. "Yes?" Sam try to play it cool as you sit back down on him. You suddenly have no idea what to do with your hands. You’ve never so unsure of where to put them or aware of their existence until right now.

"You have a nice face, too." Jason mocks you and you roll your eyes.

"I'll take it back." You defend because you’re almost certain he's just teasing you.

"You can't take it back." Jason defends as he rests his hands on your thighs and your breath catches in your throat. "It's true though."

You finally decide to place your hands on his chest and he's so warm under you. His skin is smooth here, unlike his hands that are always calloused and rough. And he's tough, the muscle under his skin. He's so sturdy and it's not all that surprising. He trains a lot but it is very attractive. And it's making you a little nervous.

"Taking it back." You taunt him but there's a fire that's fallen in your words and Jason raises a brow at you.

"What's up?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. Your eyes are wider than usual and you aren't sure where to look. His chest and abs are a little distracting. But so is his face while you’re sitting on top of him. His hands are on your thighs and you’re ready to explode into a million pieces. "Nothing. What?"

A sly grin paints itself across Jason's face. "You look nervous."

"I'm not nervous!" You rush your words, putting pressure on his chest in defense. He can't know you’re nervous.

"You sure?" He's taunting you but you are nervous. He makes you nervous sometimes and it's different. This is a lot different because he's facing you and you’re sitting on him. His hands creep further up your thighs, goosebumps spreading over your skin. What the hell is he up to?

"What're you doing, Jay?" You shake your head at him and it's as if you’ve been glued in this exact position.

"Nothing." Jason smirk up at you. He's wondering how far he can push this until you move or make some quip that'll make him burst into a fit of laughter. Payback for earlier.

"Oh, nothing? Not trying to pull some shit?" You raise a brow at him, narrowing your eyes and he is always up to something. That is one of his defining characteristics.

"Nope." The smirk stays steady on his lips but he's holding back a laugh.

"Liar." You raise your brows at him and you’re begging for him to just do it. Do something.

"What shit do you think I'm pulling?"

"I dunno." You shrug, your thumbs rubbing over his skin softly. "Playing chicken."

"We're always doing that."

"Uh-huh, but I'm on top of you now." You offer him a grin, trying to swallow your own nerves.

Jason lets out a breath and he isn't sure how to commit to this. He doesn't know how. When he tried with Rose, it blew up. She avoided it until she couldn't anymore. Jason doesn't want to do that to you but he doesn't know how to go about it. What if you leave? What if being more than whatever the hell you are is too much? He doesn't know how that could be the case but maybe it is. That's when Rose decide to come clean. She used him. You aren't Rose but it's still a fresh wound and he can't wrap his head around someone sticking it out with him. But he wants you to. He doesn't know how to fully commit to it besides your game so he sits up and decides to push the game a little further.

"Is that an issue?" Jason is sitting on the way up, hands now on the bed to hold himself up.

You can't help but notice how cold your thighs are without his hands on them anymore and you’re already wanting to yank his hands back into place. But, instead, you look to his lips and you think maybe this is easier than committing to it. You don't have to talk about it, if something happens. You had to at the tower because Gar was involved, too many people around. It was complicated. It doesn't have to be now because it's just you and him.

You shake your head. "No." Your voice is quiet. You move your hands to his shoulders and you can't breathe. But it always feels cathartic with him. "Issue for you?"

"No." Jason's voice is low and he hasn't stopped looking at your lips.

You can see his chest moving with every breath, as if he can't decide if he should do it so you decide, you'll make the move. You won't chicken out this time because what do you have to lose at this point? You'll leave the door wide open for him and it's up to him what he does with it.

"Nervous?" You ask and you close some of the distance between you.

Jason's heart plummets in his stomach. "Fuck no." His voice is groveled as he swallows thickly glancing to your eyes and his breathing quickens just enough for you to notice.

"Really? Cause you seem a little nervous." You taunt him and Jason looks back to your eyes and his eyes are darken than usual.

He will never let you think he's nervous but he’s also a little worried you can actually hear the thundering in his chest. It’s almost deafening to him.

Jason grabs your hips and pulls you closer to him and he hears you gasp, your grip tightening on his shoulders. "Not a fucking chance, babe."

You see your opening. "Prove it." You bite back without missing a beat. Jason's eyes widen and he swears his heart just stopped beating. "We don't have to do that talking shit after." You rest your forehead against his. "Prove it, Jay." You taunt and Jason can't take it anymore.

Jason grabs your face and slams his lips against yours. You completely melt against him. You slide your hands up his neck and into his hair. You give the strands a light tug, Jason letting out a groan into your mouth. Jason lets himself get lost in your kiss. It's even better than your kiss from before. This is so much better because it's because you both want it and not because he almost died. It's led up to this moment and you don't have to have that talk. There is no feeling of being too exposed or the consequences of your actions. It's him and you. And you taste like a Sunday morning sunrise.

You taste bright and warm and calm. You’re a Sunday morning sunrise. The start of a new week, where nothing else matters from the other seven days. You taste like a fresh start where none of the horrors that took place on a Saturday night could ever matter because he made it to see the sunrise. He made it one more week and one more week next to you. You taste like the feeling of his bed after a long day of patrol. Your mouth moves with his and he swears he feels like he's been given a second chance at this life. You’re warm and comfortable and he thinks he might be able to do this all night if you'll let him He doesn't feel so damaged or broken, he just feels safe and alive.

He's intoxicating in the best possible way. You’re so enthralled by him. He's pretty and smart and funny. He's a smartass and strong, physically and mentally. He's kind with a little bit of a roughness to that kindness. He looks out for people and wants to protect strangers. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks of Jason Todd but to you, he is good. He is enough and he is perfectly flawed in a way that makes him perfect. And being with him, makes you feel so alive again.

In that basement, getting tortured, you couldn't remember what it felt like to be alive. To breathe with ease, to not feel endless dread and despair, to not feel numb to everything. You didn't remember what it was like to feel anything besides rage and sadness. But, you meet him and everything that happened to you, matters but in a way that has never made you feel like damaged goods. He sees you at your worst and instead of being mean or cruel, or running, he stays. He reads to you and trains with you. He smirks at you and flirts but never crosses that line because that wouldn't be fair. He accepts you for everything you are today and who you'll be tomorrow. Jason Todd is this bruised masterpiece of a person who deserves far more than he has ever been given.

Jason pulls away, catching his breath and he takes a second to rest his forehead against yours. His hands are still in your hair. A lazy smile dances gently onto his face and his mind is so clear right now. His only thought is you and the way his lips are tingling and his cheeks are aching in a way he wants to feel for the rest of his life. That drug bust today, means nothing because this is the happiest he's been since before Deathstroke. And when his eyes open, you’re barely looking at him, your eyes half-lidded. He's never felt this way about someone. He didn't even think he was capable of it.

"I win." Jason's voice is graveled and raspy as he lifts his forehead from yours, lettings his hands fall from your hair and down your back. But he's careful not to let his hands off you because the idea of letting go entirely almost makes him nauseous.

You narrow your eyes, daunting a smirk. "Did you though?" You quip but your voice is so much softer than usual, it's almost like velvet.

Jason tilts his head to the right, raising his brows. "Told me to prove it and I did so yeah." It's a nervous laugh that leaves his lips.

You nod your head and you don't care what you have to do, but you'll do anything right about now to keep kissing him. "Remember I told you that one day I'd commit to your little game and you wouldn't know what to do?" You laugh softly and Jason deadpans. "You said you would still win because I would cave. Hey, Jay," You vibrate on top of him as a laugh comes through your throat. "You committed to your own game so by your own logic, I just won."

Jason tilts his head forward, touching your forehead for just a second and he's so crazy about you. "You played me!" A laugh rips through Jason's chest as he tilts his head back and you nod quickly.

"Well, to be fair, I didn't think you'd do it." Your cheeks hurt from laughing and you want to play this game. This game is more fun. "I will say though," You let your laugh subside as Jason shakes his head and he can't believe you beat him at his own game. And that's why he likes you. "You were right, that's a win-win."

Jason's chest blooms with your words. "Yeah? And how's that?" Jason smirks at you, playing dumb as he shrugs his shoulders. He wants to hear you say it and you know that's what he's doing by the devious smirk on his face.

"I know what you're doing." Your eyes widen and you tilt your head side to side slightly, mocking him.

"Don't know what the fuck you're talking about." The smirk splits his face this time and he thinks he could do this all night with you. Back and forth, going for it again and then back and forth. Never having that talk that would change things a little too much for right now.

"Okay," You let out a scoff and roll your eyes. You decide you'll go ahead and just say it. The worst that can happen is he'll laugh and then you'll laugh with him. But, the best thing that can happen is that he'll kiss you again. "Because kissing you is kind of sort of fun, I guess."

"Oh, you guess?" Jason mocks you and he thinks the smirk might have nailed itself to his face. His heart is booming and all he can feel right now is absolute joy. "Think it's more than kind of sort of by the look on your face right now."

"Shut up. I don’t have a look!" You defend as you squeeze his shoulders.

"Yeah, ya do, babe.” Jason tilts his head as he glances to your lips and he's just waiting for a good opportunity to go again.

"Shut the fuck up." You lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder and Jason laughs.

For a second, you wonder if this is what it would be like, if you had the talk. You're both terrified of the talk changing things too much and putting too much pressure on this thing you have going. But, you wonder if maybe it wouldn't be so bad and this is what it would like. You'd say you like him and he'd say he likes you, too then tease you about it. And you'd tease him back before kissing him. And maybe it would work. Maybe you'd both be happy...together. But, you brush the thought away because you said you wouldn't have that talk.

You pick your head up after a few seconds and Jason was never this happy in San Francisco. You can see it across his face. It's the way his eyes are crinkled at the corners and the softness that glosses over his sea-green eyes.

"Okay," You suck in a breath. "What are we doing now?" You ask and Jason almost pauses, thinking you want to have the talk you said you wouldn't have to have. "Like, for the night." You clarify.

Jason shrugs and maybe this is kind of nice. His eyes look up as a smirk dances over his lips and he decides to go for it. "More of this?"

He offers it and he's completely serious despite the smirk. It's fun and he likes you, adores you. You’re everything he has ever wanted and never deserved. But, he thinks that committing to it, wholeheartedly with a conversation, is too hard. Too much pressure. This way, it's kind of like you get a trial in it. See how it goes, where it goes. Maybe you can fall into something more by accident. Everything between you this far has been some sort of accident. Accidents seem to work for you.

You narrow your eyes slightly and you can't tell if he's messing with you or not. It doesn't seem like he is but a part of you think he might be. While you might be certain there's more between you, there is that sliver of doubt that you’re imaging it. You like him so much so maybe you’re making it up to fill some part of your ego. Maybe having clarity there would be a lot more painful than you’re willing to admit.

"Hmm." You hum, Jason wiggling his brows at you and he's trying not to let on just how nervous he is for your answer. "You fucking with me?"

Jason lets out a chuckle. "Nope." Jason sucks in a breath that has the slightest quiver.

Jason's hoping you say yes because even though this wouldn't be anything serious or filled of commitment to each other, it would hurt if you said no. He has a lot of self-doubt. He doesn't think he's worthy or deserving. He'll never understand your kindness for him but a part of him, deep down, knows you feel the same way. So, he's hoping against every bad thought he's ever had, you'll be willing to do this by accident with him.

You tap your thumbs against his skin, thinking of how can you can ask for clarity without having that conversation. "So...what? Friends with benefits kind of deal or?" You grin at him and the flush of Jason's cheeks comes right back in full force.

Jason's thumbs are rubbing your sides lightly. "Could be fun." He tries to keep his calm despite the fire that's raging through his chest.

That's enough clarity for you and you think it might actually be a good idea. "Yeah," You let out a soft laugh. "Could be, make the game a bit more fun."

Jason lets out a laugh and it's so easy with you. "Could."

He's feeling a little more nervous, waiting for you to say you’re not about something like that. He's waiting for you to back out of it but he's hoping you don't. Jason knows you like to run when things get too good but maybe this can be good for you, too because friends with benefits is basically a no strings attached thing. Maybe you won't feel like you need to run.

You shakes your head and you think this is good because you fell for him by accident. You’re not exactly sure when it even happened, not for sure, but you know it was an accident. And then you picked him on purpose. So, maybe this will let you both do that, by accident at first and then on purpose.

And maybe you won't run and maybe he won't push. Maybe, just maybe, falling into this on accident and then on purpose, gives you both a chance at survival.

"Okay, Jay." You chew the inside of your cheek. "But it stays between you and me."

"You and me." Jason nods his head, inching closer to you.

You slide your hands from his shoulder to his neck before you close the distance and this time the kiss is softer as you tangle your hands in his hair. Jason lets out a breath as he smiles against you. You are everything he has ever wanted.

Jason deepens the kiss as his entire body erupts into a state of catharsis. You didn't turn this down. You didn't turn him down. He gets to kiss you and kiss you and kiss you again. It's like his days have blurred into one between patrol and nightmares. It's all become a deep dark blur of blues and reds but right now, it's as if everything is coming right back onto focus in perfect color. Nothing else besides you even matters in this exact moment because you pick him, in some way, you’re picking him and maybe he can be worthy of you. Because he has never felt so happy and cared for than he does when you’re with him.

The kiss grows sloppy and hungry, teeth clacking against each other as both of your hands grip for every part of each to bring yourselves closer together. Your hands settle to tangling in his damp hair and he tastes like Friday nights. It's those nights that are filled with neon lights and fireworks late at night on a beach where they are definitely not legal. He's the taste of roasted marshmallows over a warm bonfire and a lemon shakeup from that one booth at a carnival that gets them just right. He tastes like late Friday nights of staying out all night, running purely on adrenaline. He's the graffiti on the side of buildings and rush of getting caught. Jason tastes like freedom.

Jason bites your bottom lip, tugging softly and you groan against him, grinding down against him. You can feel Jason's rock-hard length growing under you and you can't help but grin to yourself.

"Didn't know I get you going so easily, Jay." Your voice is dropping and low against his lips before you kiss him again.

"So, why don't you do something about it?" Jason asks, kissing your lips to your cheek and then to your neck.

Your eyes close as you melt against the soft kisses he leaves behind. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

Jason bites down on your neck, sucking a bruise against your skin as you let out a soft moan. Jason grins against your skin. He could listen to you all night.

"Wouldn't be a threat." Jason mutters moving up your neck, coming back to your lips and slamming his against yours.

You slide your hands to his shoulders and push him back against the bed, following the motion down. You kiss down his cheek to his neck and it's your turn to leave a mark this time. You nip at the area, teasing him as he shifts under you. You bite down and sucks a deep purple mark right into his neck. You make sure it's in a spot he can cover...if he wants to. Jason groans under you and you love hearing him. And you decide to just go for it.

You start kissing your way down his chest and Jason feels his stomach flipping while his heart stutters. He watches you, pupils lust blown as you reach his shorts. You tug the band, kissing around his waist as Jason's breath catches in his throat and he flexes his stomach.

"You're a fucking tease." Jason groans and you snicker against his skin.

"You're so needy." You tease kissing up his abs again, staying in the spot as you feel him flex against your lips.

Jason bites down, clenching his jaw. You kiss back down to the waist of his shorts and he ruts his hips up, desperate for you to do something about it. You tug his shorts, Jason helping to pull them down. His cock bounces against his abs once it's released, rock hard and even bigger than you thought it'd be.

You take his length in one hand, giving it a few pumps before licking from the base to his red tip.

"Fuck." Jason groans with the action, his eyes shut.

You take him into your mouth, wrapping your lips around his shaft. Jason looks down and the sight alone makes him nearly burst. He slams his head back against the bed, tangling his hands in your hair. You take as much of him as you can in your mouth as you fall into a steady rhythm against his cock.

You can hear Jason grunting softly from above you and his hips jerk forward every few seconds. You use your free hand to push his hips down and keep him steady. You lick the very tip, your tongue sliding in the slit as you taste him. Jason lets out a hiss as his stomach churns.

Jason is ready to combust in a million pieces. His head is swimming and spinning. His cock throbs in your mouth. And he can feel himself inching closer, trying to buck his hips into your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens as his breathing quickens. You can feel it, too and you’re not letting him get off that easily. You suck the tip before popping off, Jason swears in through gritted teeth as you smirk up at him. He swears he's getting you back for that.

"You make pretty noises, Jay." You climb back up his body and the smirk you’re wearing makes Jason nearly lose the rest of his sanity.

Jason meets you halfway, sitting up as you straddle his lap. He collides his lips against yours in a desperate and heated kiss. Jason's hands slide to your ass, giving it a squeeze and pulling as close to him as humanly possible. Somehow, it still doesn't feel quite close enough. Jason slides his hands to the hem of your shirt, trying to slide it off but you stop him. Jason pulls away, furrowing his brows. If you don't want to, that's fine. But he's a bit confused by it given your current state.

"Don't make it weird." You say through a heaving breath, your lips kiss-blown.

Jason's chest rises quickly, scanning your face for an answer. "What do you mean?" Jason raises a brow and you're friends, you just gave him a blowjob. He's pretty sure you're passed the weirdness of it all.

You chew the inside of your cheek and you trust him with everything in your being. It's him. It's always going to be him. You’re certain this cute boy with more trauma than an ER is it for you. But, it makes you a little nervous anyway.

"Just...don't make it weird, okay?" You nod once.

"Okay..." Jason nods his head, pulling your shirt up and over your head, a lot more gently than originally intended.

He gets it once he has your shirt off. Jason notices everything. He's very observant and he notices the way you tug the sleeves over your hands when you’re nervous. He didn't know you before so he could never figure out if it was because of the ligature scars or if it were a nervous tick. You don't do it as much around him anymore so he chalked it up to a nervous tick but now he's realizing it's just because you’re comfortable with him. He found the scar on your hip and he swore he didn't care about it and he'd protect you. But, he didn't see it. And now he's getting the full view.

There's a scar from the very edge of your shoulder where your collarbone starts that goes down just above your breast. There's another one hugging your ribcage and then there's the one that hugs your hip. They're harsh reminders of the hell you went through and you wear hoodies usually because at least you’re guarded by more fabric. And Jason can feel rage filter into his blood.

"Jerry?" Jason ask through gritted teeth.

You chew the inside of your cheek and you hate those scars. They're reminders, every single day, they're reminders of what happened. And it's like he won. He didn't, you escaped and lived and he's rotting away. But, then you look in the mirror and it's like he still won because you’re the one still dealing with the scars of it all.

"Like I said, he did all sorts of shit to try and get my powers to show up." You don't feel nearly as ashamed of them as you did early today even. Jason has one from someone he was supposed to trust, too. He has scars. But you feel a little exposed anyway because no one knows. Just him and you. "There's more, too." You hang your head and Jason is not letting you do that to yourself.

"Hey." Jason cups your face, making you look at him. "I don't care." Jason shakes his head. "But I'll kill any fuck that tries to do this shit again to you, alright? I told you, they'll have to go through me."

You offer him a soft smile. "Awfully nice of you, Jay."

Jason offers you a grin. "I can be nice." Jason chuckles. "The scars are hot anyway." His voice drops and that signature smirk of his replaces the grin.

You let out a laugh, your nose scrunching. "So are yours."

Jason slams his lips against yours and he steals the air right from your lungs. You’ve never felt more comfortable being so exposed. He makes you comfortable. He makes you happy. He makes you feel alive again. You can breathe with ease around him. The world is light and airy with him around. He is this flawed perfect piece of graphite and you adore him with every fiber that makes you, you.

Jason undoes your bra, tossing it to the side before moving to your breast, pinching one of your nipples between his fingers. You let a quiet whimper, your hands holding his nick between your hands. Jason doesn't mess around long there before coming back up to your mouth. Jason pushes you back, switching so he's on top. With you flat on your back and your hands tingled in his hair, Jason slides a hand in your shorts, under your underwear. He gains a devious grin.

"You're soaked." His voice is rough and groveled.

You feel your cheeks burn. "So do you something about it." You quips against his lips.

Jason teases your opening before sliding in one finger. He pumps you a few times before sliding in a second finger and using his thumb to circle your clit. You’re unraveling right under him. You try to keep up with kissing him and it's filling Jason's ego. Your entire body is on fire and it's because of him.

He feels you clench around his fingers so he pulls out. You barely let out a frustrated whimper against him, clenching your jaw together.

"Shithead." You hiss against his lips.

"Babe." His voice nearly sends you into a tailspin. “Look who’s needy now.” Jason says in your mouth so you bite his bottom lip. Jason’s arms nearly give out with sensation.

He slides his fingers back in and goes slower this time. You swear he's the biggest tease on the face of the planet. And you wouldn't have him any other way as your head spins and your stomach does a hundred backflips.

"You have a condom?" You manage to ask against his lips.

Jason chuckles against you, sliding his hand away from you. "Course." Jason shifts towards his nightstand, opening it to grab a condom while you get under the blankets, discarding the rest of your clothes.

Jason gets the condom on before sliding under the blankets himself and on top of you. He lines himself up with your entrance before slowly sliding in. You whimper under him as he fills you up. Once he bottoms out, he takes a second to kiss you this time more gently than before allowing you to adjust to him. Then he starts pumping into you with smooth and steady strokes. You’re writhing under him and he want to hear more of you. He grab your thigh with one hand, lifting it up and towards you to give him more leverage and you swear under your breath.

Jason rests his forehead against yours. "Let me hear you." Jason's voice is so groveled you nearly explode right then and there.

You let out a moan, louder this time and Jason thrusts grow sloppier. He thinks he could drown in the sounds of you. You dig your nail into his back, tugging him closer to you. You bite his bottom lip so hard you nearly draw blood and you feel Jason stutter against you.

"Jay." You moan out his name, your nails scratching up his back.

"Shit." Jason hisses, stalling inside of you for a split second. "Keep doing that." Jason picks up his thrusts, quicker and harder this time.

"Jason." Your voice is louder this time, more desperate, your nails digging in deeper. You feel dizzy under him while Jason feels like he's bursting into flames.

"Come on, babe. Cum for me." Jason urges you and he's about to come undone.

"Jay!" You scream out, feeling the rubber band finally snap in your stomach as you shake against him. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and Jason pumps harder and faster into you.

"Fuck." Jason groans, feeling his own rubber band finally snap as he stalls inside of you, the two of you riding out your orgasms together.

Jason rests his forehead against yours with a hearing chest. You open your eyes and Jason's skin is glistening with a sheer layer of sweat and you think he's never looked prettier. You put a hand on his cheek and Jason opens his eyes. They're completely lust-blown and love drunk. Your lips are kiss-blown and you’re daunting the laziest but warmest smile Jason’s ever seen and Jason thinks you look beautiful.

Jason turns his head, kissing the palm of your hand before he rolls off of you, laying beside you. He gets rid of the condom in the trash can beside his bed before looking back at you. Your chest is still heaving but you look happy. Content. And you look back at him, and he looks happy, too.

"Well, that was fun." You let out a soft laugh.

"Have to do this more often." Jason gives you a toothy grin.

"I'm definitely not opposed." You lean over, poking the purple bruise you left him.

Jason's brows shoot up and he kind of thought this would be a one-time thing. "You fucking with me?" Jason asks.

"Nope." You laugh. "Completely serious. Like I said, you needed to get laid." You tease him and a part of you thought it might be a little awkward after because friends don't do that. But, nothing about this feels awkward. It feels, somehow, so normal.

"Fuck you!" Jason's laugh fills the entire room and you can't help the way you beam with the sound.

"I just did." You let out a laugh and there's a prideful smile at your lips. Jason almost grabs you and pulls you for another kiss.

"Round two?" Jason raises.

"Okay, Energizer Bunny, not letting you get too lucky. Fuck knows your ego doesn't need it."

"It definitely does." Jason gives you a fake pout.

You want to kiss the fake pout off his face. "Shtihead." You roll your eyes with a smile that might be permanently glued to your face.

"Babe." There's a softness to the way he says it this time.

You shake your head, turning away from him and leaning over the bed to grab your clothes. Jason watches you as you get dressed, not facing him. He gets a sight of a few more scars across your back, up near your shoulders. He sees these five scars in lines by your shoulders and he knows. He hates that piece of shit more than he hates anyone.

"You staring, Jay?" You ask, not liking Jason being silent.

"He do that, too?" Jason asks and you look over your shoulder at him before picking up his shirt from the floor.

"Mhm." You hums, tossing his shirt over your head.

There is nothing in this world Jason won't do to make sure that never happens again. He is pissed. Furious. Almost wishes he would have let you kill him. Just almost. You’re one of the most incredible people he's ever met. You didn't deserve that shit. You don't deserve those scars and the pain you go through. It's not fair. You deserve better.

"I'm fucking serious, anyone tries any shit with you, they're gonna deal with me." Jason's jaw is clenched and he swears it. No one ever lays a hand on you again.

You grab his shorts, turning back to face him and you’ve never seen that look on his face before. But something about it, brings you comfort. Your mom is the only one who's ever looked out for you like that but that was your mom. That was her job. This is not Jason's and he'll do it anyway.

Jason gains a soft smile looking at you in his shirt. He could get used to that.

You climb back on the bed, resting on your knees as you hand him his shorts. "Same to you, ya know?"

"I don't think I need your help, babe." Jason chuckles, sitting up.

You think it's not about whether he needs the help or not but rather, about knowing someone would do it anyway. And you would, it's not a lie. He's Robin and that's awesome, it's cool, and he's good at it. But he's also Jason Todd. And anyone that hurts him, is gonna have a hell of a bad day when you find out.

"Mhm, I know. But I mean it anyway. You being Robin is great and all, but if someone tries to hurt you as Jason Todd," You poke his chest gently. "They'll have to go through me."

Jason lets out a soft laugh and he can handle himself. But, he also knows you’re serious. He'd protect you from anything and everything and you would do the same for him. No one has ever looked out of him like that. Ever. Not until Bruce anyway. It's always just been him and while he never wants you to do that or expect that of you, his heart warms and he adores you for it.

"And I will melt their faces off." You grin widely at him, flashing your hands as they glow green and Jason lets out a booming laugh.

"How do you do that?" Jason asks, jerking his head up. "I mean, so easily."

You shrug. "I dunno, Dick asked that, too. I can just do it." You open and close your palms, the glowing going in and out with the movement. "Think about it and it happens."

"That's kind of sick." Jason offers you a grin. "Does it hurt?"

"Nope, just warm. I showed Gar, want me to show you?" You offer with ease. Jason's never really asked about your powers. Jus the combat clairvoyance. You got the idea that Jason isn't a fan of the powers thing. You get it, you definitely aren't either. But he doesn't seem bothered now.

"You gonna melt my face off?" Jason quips and he's a bit unsure of it. Rachel tried to kill him.

"Of course not." You chortle. "Who would I have to look at if I melted you?" The sarcasm fills your voice as your eyes widen.

Jason lets out a nervous chuckle, red creeping onto his cheeks. "Alright, show me."

You let your right hand glow, feeling your palm grow warm. You make a fist, making sure your entire palm is covered by your fingers before you rest your fist, fingers against his skin, to his chest. The spot right above Jason's heart grows warm with the touch. It doesn't hurt or burn or even tingle. It's just a warm like a heating pad. There's something incredible about it and the control you have over it. Jason will never fully get the powers thing but this is something he does find interesting and cool. You didn't get the whole cape thing until Jason told you about it, he's wondering if this is what that was like for you.

"See, that's it feels like it for me even when acid is literally dripping from my hands. It gets warmer but you get the idea." You pull your hand away, the glowing fading.

"That's awesome." Jason gushes. "Got your own set of hand warmers."

"Exactly!" You let out a laugh.

Tonight has been fun. It's some of the most fun Jason's hand in quite a while. Between the bust and being here with you, and everything that followed, it's just fun. And he feels free and alive and so genuinely happy. He finds himself not wanting to go to sleep or get ready for bed but not because he's worried about nightmares, but because he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want you to go to your room.

"Hey," Jason starts. "You wanna sleep in here?" He asks. "I mean, we turn on one of your movies and shit." Jason catches himself, you're still friends.

"That is a very tempting offer." You smirk at him and you were hoping he'd ask you to stay. "Might as well." You shrug before getting off the bed. "I'll be back. Turn on Tangled, Disney Plus."

"You're making me watch a Disney movie after that?" Jason chortles as he gets up to get dressed.

"Yeah, I'm in the mood to watch the lantern scene." You holds your up with confidence.

"I have no idea what that means." Jason shrugs, turning to face you once his shorts are on.

"It's the way Flynn looks at Rapunzel. And then what happens after." You give him a pout and he almost laughs because you’re so serious about it. It's the cutest thing in the world.

"Oh, so it's that serious?" There's sarcasm in his voice but he's still smiling gently at you.

"Jason, she was his new dream, you don't understand." You vibrate as laughter rip through you.

"I still have no fucking idea what that means." Jason laughs with you, looking to the floor and back to you. He wants to keep it going because the way you’re talking about this makes him fall harder for you.

"You'll see. I promise, it's great."

"You've said that about every movie you've made me watch."

"And I've been right about all of them."

"Yeah, okay." Jason lets out a fake huff before he sits back on the bed, reaching for his remote. "Hurry up then or I'll start it without you." Your eyes narrow at him and you open your mouth as Jason tries to beat you to punch. "Shithead."

"Babe." You say his line at the same time he says yours.

"Okay." A chortle escapes his lips. "You're proud of yourself for that one, huh?"

"A little yeah." You give him a cheeky smile, turning on your heels. "Do not," You turn around as you get to the door. "Start without me." You point a finger at him before darting out of the room before Jason can say anything else.

While Jason waits for you, he sits back on his bed, getting comfortable with the movie paused. And all he can think about is how much he likes you. His head swims with every detail about you and he doesn’t even notice the corners of his mouth perking up into an adoring smile. And he thinks about how maybe the manor did feel a little lonely when Bruce would leave him alone but he swears tonight, it doesn’t.

He’s spent a lot of his life feeling lonely. Sure, some of that he brought on himself with pushing everyone as far away from him as he possibly could. But, some of that was just his circumstances. And he’s thinking, just this small part of him, thinks maybe life isn’t supposed to feel lonely. It’s just the only thing he’s ever known. But, he doesn’t feel lonely when he’s with you.

When you come back a few minutes later, you have your gloves on and Jason lets himself smile. He's glad they work, he wasn't sure if they would or not. But clearly, they do. And it's kind of like you have a part of him when you sleep. Not really but kind of. It was his idea. Using the same fibers in his cape for the gloves. It's his thing. You slide into bed with him, resting your head on his now-clothed chest.

"You stole my shirt." Jason says as he slides his arm around you and he thinks you fit perfectly in this spot.

"You have plenty." You state, watching the opening scene with Mother Gothel.

"Oh, so you're gonna steal my clothes now?" Jason chortles as he moves his head to get a look at your face.

"Comfy." You hum against him before looking up at him. You can't tell, but he's never looked at you this way before. His eyes are soft, lacking of any devious plans or intentions. They're just soft and gentle, completely adoring of you. "Do you mind?" You ask and for a second, you worry his does.

He would never mind. And it looks better on you anyway. "No." Jason's voice is soft this time and butterflies explode through your blood. Maybe liking him isn't the right word.

"Good." You snuggle closer to him, while Jason slides his hand under your shirt, rubbing your back gently.

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kitthepurplepotato · 9 months ago

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Chapter 16 - A deep conversation

Summary: Deku’s worries float away with Rody’s surprise visit. Literally.

Izuku’s lips get loose after a few pints. (It was one single pint, but don’t tell him I told you that.)

Warnings: mentions of depression, really brief mention of suicide but I swear it’s a cute, fluffy chapter! 😂 also… alcohol. Drink responsibly. Don’t be a Deku.

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Rody?!” Izuku shrieks, completely dumbfounded.

You can’t help but smile fondly as Rody hugs Izuku and starts muttering death threats into his ears.

“If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll come over on my helicopter and kill you myself, you fucking asshole. You understand, buddy?” Rody mumbles while Pino cries on Izuku’s shoulders, snuggling into his hair. Izuku was right. Rody has the most interesting quirk you’ve ever seen.

“I’m so happy to see you, buddy.” Izuku sniffs because that’s who he is; if an emotion is even a tiny bit stronger than his normal, he cries about it, positive or negative. Rody rolls his eyes, but Pino still cries a river. Honestly, this guy a perfect example of how different humans act in front of of others. It’s mesmerizing. And sad. “I have so much to tell you, oh my god! You know how I got a roommate thanks to Jirou? She’s so pretty and so sweet, Rody, I fell in love with her right away, she’s also a big fan of me and …”

“Izuku, I’m here. I can hear you.” You giggle as Izuku starts to blush aggressively. “Why don’t you have this conversation with him after eating something? You can have a cider or a beer in the garden?”

“What about you?” Izuku gives you his biggest puppy eyes. Rody laughs fondly at your shenanigans.

“Oh boy, you have it bad.”

“Oh boy, he really does.” You giggle to yourself with a slight blush on your face. “I need to finish my commissions, Izu. I’ve been neglecting it in the past few days.” Izuku looks so heartbroken; he’s little libs wobble, his eyes are full of tears and… fuck, you are way too weak against his puppy eyes. “Okay, I’ll leave you two alone for an hour, then I’ll join. But let’s eat first. Rody must be hungry.” You sigh as Izuku attacks you with kisses on your cheeks, because this guy has no shame.

“I guess I don’t need to ask how the rest of the story went.” Rody gives you a knowing smile. Izuku is abssolutely out of it, literally floating around from the happiness. Floating. Like, for real. By the time he makes it into the kitchen he head bumps into the ceiling.

“Wow, are you sure you are not in love with Rody? You haven’t kissed the ceiling before.” You tease your man who only moans, incapable of getting down by himself. “I’ll get the ladder, you keep him away from the window.”

“Yes, sir!” Rody smirks.

You have no idea what’s happening, but one thing is for sure; you haven’t laughed this much in your whole fucking life. You really thought Izuku can not surprise you anymore, but clearly, you have a long way to go before you actually get to know this man. Thank god you have your whole life to get to know him.

~•🥦•~

“So…” Izuku scratches his head awkwardly as he comes back from the bedroom. He decided to call his doctor, just in case. “Apparently, my floating might be the after effect of my meds. The ones I got for my mood.”

“So you got overexcited like those puppies who pee themselves when they see their owner?” Rody chimes in with a smirk on his face. You swear you heard his tummy rumble, but you decide not to mention it yet.

“Basically, yes. I got some meds to lift my mood but I didn’t really need to take them today but I took it out of habit, then… a lot of good things happened and… yeah.”

“Well, at least you didn’t pee yourself.” You tease, tapping the seat next to you with a fond smile. “Come on puppy, Rody is starving.” You giggle as Izuku puts his pretty little bum down on the seat. Rody is so fucking ready to eat it’s actually quite hilarious; you don’t need Pino’s help to know he will devour whatever you put in front of him, even if it tastes like shit (hopefully, it does not.)

Just as expected, Rody jumps on the food right as you pop the serving in from him; you brought a little bowl over for Pino as well, not entirely sure if she eats human food or not, but you definitely did not want her to feel left out. You also brought over some seeds Izuku kept for the birds in his garden, just in case.

“I hope you payed for your ride this time.” Izuku looks at his friend with suspicion. You have no idea why this is the first question that comes out of your boyfriend’s mouth, but there is probably a story behind it.

“Yes and no.” Rody answers honestly and you can see Izuku’s frown deepen at that. “Wait! Jesus, just because I haven’t payed for a bus ride doesn’t mean I’m going to sneak on a fucking plane! That’s actual crime, Izuku!”

“Not paying for a bus ride is also a crime, Rody!” Izuku retorts. At this point, you are just blinking at the two, utterly confused.

“I haven’t payed for the ride itself, because I was the pilot. Your bestie, Katsuki, was nice enough to let me park at your agency’s helipad.” Rody admits. “Some of my friends wanted to visit Japan anyway and as you know, I work at a private jet charter company, so… they chipped in. Every pilot is allowed to use the planes once a year for personal reasons, I usually use mine to take my siblings away from the city but after I heard what happened from Katsuki, I decided to come over.”

So he was worried. That’s so sweet!

“Why didn’t you bring Roro and Lala over?!” Izuku pouts. Rody only laughs at that.

“They have school. They are big enough now to stay alone for a week but I asked my girlfriend to stay over at our house, just in case. They are probably having the time of their lives without me.”

“Your girlfriend?!” Izuku shrieks, almost choking on his soup. You gave him a proper bowl this time because you didn’t want him to feel like a kid in front of his buddy but he still managed to look like one, so all your efforts were in vain.

“Yeah, uhm…” Rody and Pino’s face reddens. “She’s works at the company. Super cute. I had a crush on her since day one. Then we went out drinking together with the guys and uhm… yeah. It’s not too romantic but we haven’t left each other’s side since. Life is great, you know… and I can only thank you for that. You opened my eyes and made me realize I can live a proper life and get money in a respectful way. I wouldn’t be here without you, you know. So thank you. I will bring my siblings over next year. They also want to thank you.”

Needless to say, Izuku cries again. Then he floats. Everyone screams. Thankfully, you manage to grab him before the whole table flips.

~•🥦•~

“Life has been hectic. I don’t… I don’t know what’s going to happen, you know. With my career, I mean. I might lose my spot… hell, I probably will.” Izuku mutters, playing with the condensation on his almost empty glass.

Saying that Izuku is okay now is an overstatement. The last few weeks were terrible. Everything felt empty, like he’s only a shell, an empty vessel with needs and desires, but they all felt so distant, so fake, he had to force himself to actually eat and shower. It was a struggle to keep himself alive, especially in the first week. The pain was excruciating, being unable to move was frustrating the hell out of him and not even the hot bubble bath and the massive amount of medicine could soothe his troubled soul and broken body. He hurt the most important person in his life, daily, he made Sweet Pea cry every night; he could hear it sometimes, barely there but loud enough for him to notice during the sleepless nights. He has so much atoning to do, so much to make up for but he also needs to heal so he can save people again and it’s really hard to find the perfect middle ground. He’s so happy but he’s also not… it’s like he’s in the pink clouds, but with weights pulling his legs down and he needs to work hundred times harder with to stay up there while before it was easy as breathing. Izuku wants to be his old self, he really wants to; he misses his old, silly self, or to be exact, he misses when he didn’t feel dread after every laugh, thinking that be should be out on the field, fighting instead of having fun with his girlfriend. Izuku knows this is something every hero needs to go through at least once; All Might himself told him he also felt the same when he had to retire, this constant guilt and dread every time he dared to feel happy about something. It’s normal but it doesn’t make it easier to endure.

“Does she know?” Rody gives Izuku a sad smile.

“Of course. She also knows I’m genuinely happy when I’m with her, I’m glad we can have some time together, to finally talk about our future and get used to each other properly. We didn’t have time to do that you know.” Izuku sighs. “I could barely be home. All she’s done in the past few weeks was waiting for me to come home and see me for a few hours. I couldn’t ruin that time with talking about deep stuff, but now we can actually… talk. It doesn’t make it that much easier though. I can’t lift this glass with my other hand, you know. I’m aware of it and it’s killing me. I would be completely useless if it’s not for black whip. But then she looks at me like I’m the most perfect human being on this whole planet, her pretty eyes shining and… I almost believe it’s true. That this is temporary and I’ll be back to my old self in a heartbeat. It’s not the truth though. I’ll get my heart broken several times before I make my way back to being a hero… and I’m not ready for it. I’m not ready to give up on being the number one. I worked my ass off for it. I cried blood, I sweat blood, yet here I am, on the verge of loosing everything. It makes me question if it was worth it, leaving my mother alone in that house, leaving Sweet Pea alone for days, weeks, breaking her heart over and over because I couldn’t make it home.” Rody is about to say something but Izuku stops him. Rody stays quiet but he slowly moves the glass of cider away from him, even though it’s already almost empty. “I know I’m being stupid. I know this is all in my head. The vestiges tell me that every day. They were talking to me so much when I was in my deepest, darkest phase. Whispering into my ears, telling me I did well, telling me this is not the end. I know that. I know I’m going to work my ass off again and again to get back where I was, it just sucks that I need to.”

“It’s normal to be frustrated when life isn’t going the way you wanted it to.” Rody mutters. “It suck even more when you loose your path thanks to something you can’t control. I know, I’ve been there.” He sighs. “When I lost everything after my father disappeared and I had to take care of two kids when I was supposed to be enjoying my youth, I was really frustrated. It only got worse once I realized I can’t make any money legally thanks to my age. There was a point when I wanted to end it all because I didn’t see the point in fighting. I felt like every step I make just makes the situation worse. But then I thought about my siblings. I thought about their future and about how I can at least make sure they have a good life. Without me, they would’ve been taken away. That kept me going. Then I met you. This is not the end, Deku. Once you fall deep enough, it’s only up from there. That’s what I want you to remember when the hero ratings are out.”

“You are right. I’m being an idiot. I have a roof above my head, enough money in the bank to cover my absence, I have amazing friends, family and an amazing girlfriend.” Izuku admits. “My friends are amazing heroes who can cover for me. It’s not the end of the world.”

“You are an idiot, yes, but I would question your humanity if you wouldn’t have thoughts like that. You are not a robot. You are doing really good compared to your circumstances, but don’t let that stop you from feeling like shit sometimes. Let the frustration out. Don’t bottle it up. This is your one chance to be a real human being without any consequences. Enjoy it. Heal yourself. Let us help, we are here for you.”

Izuku can’t help the tears, and he doesn’t want to; he lets them out, salty streaks trailing down his cheeks as he cuddles into his friend, body shaking like a leaf.

“I’ll be fine, because you guys are with me.” He cries. He feels weirdly dizzy all of a sudden. Hm. Interesting. “I’ll be fine because I want to have fun with everyone. I want to live my life with no regrets. I’ll do my best so I can welcome Roro and Lala with a smile on my face. I’ll do my best, Rody. I will!”

While Rody is clearly laughing at Izuku’s sudden shenanigans, Pino is bawling together with him so Izuku knows he’s not actually being laughed at.

“Okay, sweetheart, you had way too much drink.” Sweet Pea comes into Izuku’s view, giggling with teary eyes. Did she hear him? Was he yelling?

“I’ll make you happy!” Izuku yells into Y/N’s face, because… well… because he can. “I’ll make you really-really happy! And I’ll marry you! We will have five kids! You hear me?”

“Three kids max, Izu. Now let’s put you to bed.”

“But I don’t wanna!!!!”

“Hm.” Rody snickers to himself. “Only two more to go, you clearly have one kid already.”

“HEY!!!!!!!!”

“Why are you yelling?” Y/N giggles.

“Because I will make you happy! Can we get that dog now? I’ll name him All Bark.” Both of them burst out laughing. Why is he being manhandled right now?! He’s completely fine! He can make his way towards the bedroom himself, thank you very much! Okay, maybe once he started crying the booze went into his head a tiny bit but he’ll get better in no time!

“Okay, sweetie, it’s bed time. Rody’s staying in my room today, you guys can chat some more in the morning! Rody needs to sleep, he had a long ride.”

That’s fair. Izuku can live with that.

“Okay…”

~•🥦•~

Secret Winter Cabin Trip! Sponsored by Rody

Eijirou: Hey everyone! Izuku’s friend from Otheon is in town and would like to invite you all to a special “winter wonderland” trip! It’s a 3 days trip, private plane and private cabins! Make yourselves free if you can!

Shouto: What’s the point if I can’t be the driver?

Eijirou: You can still call names and be in charge!

Amajiki-kun: Why am I here?

Eijirou: Because Izuku likes you and you never come out drinking! You can bring your support animal!

Katsuki: You are here because Eijirou’s been moaning about not seeing you for ages.

Mirio: I’m the support animal! And I’m in!

Iida: Sadly, I can’t make it this time! Send me photos, please!

Mina: Ahh, such a bummer! I also can’t make it 😭

Katsuki: Nah, not coming

Mina: LOL, good joke.

Katsuki: I know

Kyouka: Count me in!

Kaminari: Me and my buddy are coming too!

Shinsou: Well, apparently I’m coming, thanks for asking before you wrote that in the group chat you asshole

Momo: I’m coming! I’ll keep an eye on everyone!

Shouto: Wait… winter cabin? It’s not… winter?

Katsuki: I can’t believe it took 30 minutes for someone to question that part. My friends are fucking idiots.

Kaminari: OMGOMG Bakubro called us friends 😭

Katsuki: That was not the point, second hand Pikachu.

Amajiki-kun: I was too scared to mention that.

Eijirou: Don’t worry about the details. You’ll see! Bring warm clothes!

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Hey guys! I made a Ko-fi page just in case you guys would like to support me! Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop writing if I don’t get any donations nor will I start writing quicker if I do! (I literally can’t. I’m writing every day after work already 😂) I also don’t do prompts for money, so please don’t send me any on that site! I’ll make a proper post about this in the future! My main reason to do this is that I really wanted to start digital drawing this year but I ended spending my iPad money on getting my stupid laptop repaired so… every penny helps 😂

Click here if you want to check my page or donate! Thank you!

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @themultifandomgirl @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku x fem!reader #midoriya izuku x y/n #midoriya fluff #midoriya x you #midoriya izuku x reader

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slightly-warmer-hibiscus-tea · 6 months ago

Text

CW: OC talk + Rambling / Blood / Gore / Censored Nudity (character sheet) / Mentions of Drugging

(idk why these warnings are so intense, but I swear it's all just silly OC talk T^T)

I’m kinda sorta working on more (comprehensible) TS OC stuff in between studying right now… I wanna hurry and talk about them but without info dumping (if given the opportunity I will without hesitation 😔…) because in terms of the best stories I have conjured up for OCs in general Naudedel and Noble are surprisingly good and I’m very excited to share how deranged they are together…

Right now it’s just about making Naudy readable and working on extra fun stuff… like monsters!

I’m trying to work out his “monster” form…. The concept is there, but the execution is just not ticking the right boxes for me right now… also, the line art at the end is old and probably will go unused, but thought it was something to add here because like hehe look at my deranged son :)

When it comes to the writing I'm going to split it into two chapters. The first half will be a summary+ of his upbringing, and the second on how he fucked up his arm and why. Just enough info to get a read on what his deal is pretty much. I just need to edit the first chapter and rewrite some parts then it's ready to annoy the world!

I'm trying to think of a good design for his original mother... I'm thinking dark hair and milf (¬‿¬)･ﾟ✧ ... honestly I need to start drawing out the designs for all the other TS OCs I've accumulated over the year (?) here's a fun list-

Hickery (bloodhound OC... dilf oc...I've already been made fun of for his name, but it stuck to me so I'm keeping it!)

Maya (another bloodhound OC)

Cove (Hound's ex-husband)

Cetcher's gf + informant, who still needs a good name...

and that one guy! (doesn't have a name yet... but is important in Hound's part of the story... she bashed some of his guys in the back of head with a hammer... it was a whole thing... Leander got involved... gang war stuff, don't worry about it...)

There are technically more OCs, like that Hightown lady Noble befriended during their first few weeks in town. However, I'm not sure if I'm including her in the final plot meeting. But yeah, anyway I'm rambling so on to Noble news!

For Noble, everything is plotted out in advance surprisingly…character playlist and all... just need to find the words to explain their story other than “parasite with a weird God complex feels guilty” I do have some old memes and art of them though!

Noble curse stuff...

Childhood cult stuff...

Current reality...

Poor person masquerade dress censored for tumblr...

Noble folks!

I actually wrote out a whole little thing for the black dress in a what-if scenario of...

"Oh! ,,,What if there is a masquerade in Hightown and Noble sneaks in to get some information on a certain individual who might know a thing or two about curses, but turns out the whole event if devious and their all eating babies or some fucked up shit,,,, and what if while sneaking around they see Leander and are like 'what's he doing here?' and they lock eyes but he ignores them as he ducks into a closed off area with some important looking people,,, once he comes out he walks past them and they lock eyes again as he leaves,,, Noble chases after him and once they catch up they get to see his cold and detached side right before he hides them from the other guest,,, after they talk for a bit, or more like Leander talking over them and their worries as he slowly wipes their memories while they protest that it's not fair only to wake up the next day back in their room,,, thankfully their curse is good for more then just silly bouts of insanity so they have a hunch on what happened, everyone around them who knew where they went the night before were obviously worried and the general consensus is that they might have been drugged and should go check in with Kuras just in case (wow this is getting long...) but on their way to the clinic they run into Leander and of course discusses their current problem with him ,,, words are exchanged,,, a kabedon may occur,,, as he whispers in their ear,,, all fun till he erases their memories again, or at least tires before receiving a little gift that makes him look at this whole curse thing from a different angle." DEEP BREATH! ...Anyways... yeah.

But it was taking so long to write out that I ended up losing motivation so yeah... like everything else we will pray the motivation comes back so I can finish that... plus who knows, I might make an x reader version of it if I can. (don't hold your breath... I'm extremely slow)

Anyway, I'm gonna to shut up now because I've yapped enough. I'mma make some hibiscus tea (ironic) and head to bed... Night night, if you made it this far, thank you for listening to my craziness <3

#rambles #oc: naudedel #oc: noble #touchstarved oc

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peakyltd · 1 year ago

Text

New Endings - Part 4

A/N: SORRY THAT THIS TOOK ME SO LONG. But I made this chapter a bit longer, so hope that compensates somewhat. On the other hand I got carried away and there was no way to make it shorter so here's a win-win for us all 😜

Warnings: Swearing, insulting, threatening, physical violence/abuse, manipulation, mentions of a gun, a little bit alluding to smut? (not the real deal though)

Word count: 6.7k

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

Particles of dust scattered all over the place as (Y/N) kept herself busy cleaning the house. After spending days inside with not much to occupy herself with, she started to get bored. The family house she stayed at remained basically untouched, so one and one made two.

Her cheeks were reddened from the warmth of the fire and the physical work she was putting into tidying the place. It felt satisfying to make herself useful while also getting time to think. Tommy’s harsh words lingered in her mind. He was right, she knew he was right but at the same time it felt so wrong. He was the last one to judge her, considering his own actions. The worst thing was that she hadn’t seen him anymore after their argument. The only person who’d stop by was Polly and although she appreciated her help, it didn’t feel right. Just as her mind took her further into a spiral of thoughts, she heard the front door open. She turned to see who it was, standing eye to eye with two men in long coats, both wearing peaked caps.

“Ello, love.” Arthur’s gruffy voice spoke up, a genuine smile on his face. John grinned at her as he stood beside his older brother. A smile started to break on her face and her eyes lit up as she took in the sight of the two brothers. “That's been a while."

“Nah, I spoke to you a few weeks ago.” John joked as he took his cap off. “How have you been holdin’ up ‘n here?” (Y/N) put the rag she was using, down. "I'm doing fine." She smiled at him. "How have you two been?"

"We're well." Arthur answered as he took his cap off. "We thought you'd might like some company." He slid the coat off his shoulders and hung it up on the rack. "Oh, well... I do actually." She chuckled. "Would you like some tea?"

"Nah, love. Tom said you got him some good whiskey. I'd like some of that." Arthur smiled. The mention of Arthur's nickname for Tommy made her think. He had talked about her, or probably at least about their evening. It made her wonder what else he had told them. "Did he send you to come see me?" She asked the oldest brother, questioning the sincerity of their visit. "No, like I said we thought you'd might like some company." He started as she watched him sit down on one of the chairs. "We're not here because of him."

She nodded, shifting her attention to John who just got rid of his cap and coat and had returned to the table. "Whiskey for you as well?" He shook his head as he rolled his toothpick to the other corner of his mouth. "Some tea for me." She chuckled softly, amused that the tough stance didn't say everything about him. " Alright, I'll be right back." John sat down and grinned. "Is that funny to you?"

"A little." She jokingly confessed. "I barely made it inside and she's making fun of me already." John complained to Arthur, his grin never leaving his face. "And you wonder why?" Arthur joked while leaning back in his chair.

"I'm having tea as well, you won't be the only odd one out here." (Y/N) teased as she made her way to the small kitchen. "Yeah, go on, make that tea. It's taking you long enough. It could've been done in the time you took to mock me." John called out, continuing his banter. He could hear her laugh coming from the kitchen which made him chuckle.

Once she returned with the drinks, she sat down with the two brothers. "I must say that I'm happy that you're here." She smiled at them. "It's pretty quiet sometimes."

"Can imagine. Don't you get out of the house?" Arthur wondered as he took a sip of his whiskey. She shook her head. "No. I... I'm too afraid, honestly." She softly confessed. Both brothers looked at her, not expecting the answer from her. "Afraid?" John repeated. "He's really been that bad to you, hm?"

"I guess so, yes." She uncomfortably moved in her seat. "We can go with you." Arthur kindly offered. "No need to be scared then." (Y/N) looked up at him, touched by his offer but unsure of accepting it. "I appreciate it but I don't want to bother you."

"It's no bother. What about this afternoon?" He suggested as he watched her nervously fumbling with her fingers. "Well, okay then." It would be good to get out of the house for a while and she finally could buy some things for herself, instead of asking Polly. This could be a first step back to the independence she had missed. "I'll pick you up at 2 then, yeah?"

"Thank you." She smiled before taking a sip of her tea. John took the warm cup between his hands. "I can't come, gotta do somethin' for Tom but I'm sure you two will be okay."

"Oh please don't worry about it." She tapped her fingers on her cup before putting it down. "I was actually wondering..." She looked at the two brothers in front of her as her heart started beating faster. "So I have been thinking a lot since I'm here and I..." She didn't understand why the words were so hard to get off her lips. "I was wondering if you maybe needed a hand at the betting shop? I mean Tommy gave me some money for food and clothes but he can't give me money forever. Besides that it just feels... weird."

John and Arthur looked at each other as silence followed after her question, both seeming to think about her question. "I mean no worries if you don't need anyone else. I-I just can't sit here and wait, you know? I'd rather work for it." She started rambling as her nerves and the uneasiness of the silence got the best of her.

John picked up on her uncomfortable state and smiled kindly at her. "First of all, calm down. It's just us." He chuckled. "But that's not something we decide about, although I think we could use a hand."

"Yeah, Tom and Pol are the ones concerning this." Arthur added, taking another sip of his whiskey. "Oh.. well, I haven't seen Tommy in days so I'll ask Polly when she's here again."

"I can ask them for you." John offered before Arthur interrupted him. "Or we could go see Tommy later this afternoon." His words made her palms feel sweaty, she didn't know if it was a great plan to go see him in his house unannounced. That, and she wasn't sure if she actually wanted to go there. "I don't know if that's a good idea." She retorted, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. "I think he's pretty busy." Arthur snorted as he shook his head. "He always is."

"We'll ask him first if it's okay, yeah? Think that makes her feel better." John interfered, knowing that there was something he couldn't quite put his finger on. She looked up at him, a small smile tugging on her lips. "It does."

"You can just tell us, love. We don't judge." Arthur's gruffy voice spoke up as he patted her shoulder gently. She shifted her gaze to him and chuckled softly. "I should've remembered."

After John and Arthur had left, she went back to doing her chores. While she hung her dresses to dry on the laundry rack, she thought about their visit. She enjoyed their company and it felt good to have a laugh with both of them. It reminded her of simpler times and how carefree she felt, although she probably wasn't the only one. She noticed how Arthur's face showed many signs of the stress he was enduring and despite John acting like he was alright, she could see he was suffering from it too. But what else could she expect from living a life like theirs. It was their choice and they had to deal with the consequences, however, she couldn't deny the fact that she'd rather had seen them in another state.

The honk of a horn brought her back to reality. She looked up at the clock to check the time and realized that Arthur was already back to pick her up. She quickly checked herself in the mirror, got her coat and purse and made her way outside. The chilly wind blew across her face, making her shiver before she took a deep breath of fresh air. Or, as fresh it could get in Small Heath. She took in her surroundings before she looked up at Arthur who was holding the car door open for her, like a real gentleman. She giggled as she approached him. "What do I owe this to?"

"I'm just treating the way you should be treated." He answered, a proud grin on his face. "Well, thank you sir. I appreciate it." She chuckled as she got in the car. Arthur shut the door and got in next to her, starting the car. "Tommy said he had time for you now." She turned her head to look at him, his words caught her by surprise. "Now?" She repeated, Arthur nodded in response. "Yeah, now. He was supposed to be at the betting shop but something came up or something." He shrugged while driving off. "I don't know but doesn't matter. We're meeting him at his house now."

"Right." It was the only word that she was able to say. An uneasy feeling made her stomach turn. She anxiously twisted the ring around her finger, trying to ease herself. During the ride she elaborated on some of the things she and Arthur spoke about that morning while he told a bit more about his current life. It helped her to get grip on the restless feeling and compose herself.

It wasn't until he pulled up to the driveway that led to Arrow House, her nerves came back while she was stunned by the huge mansion that was in front of her. "This is Tommy's house?" Her mouth was slightly agape as she stared at it in awe, not comprehending what she was looking at. "It is." Arthur chuckled. "Pretty big, eh?"

"Yeah... pretty big." She repeated as Arthur drove trough the gates. He parked the car in front of the enormous wooden doors. "My god." She muttered under her breath as she heard Arthur chuckle. "You should see inside, you can get lost in there." He told her before getting out. She opened the door herself and followed Arthur to the doors where he'd just knocked on. Not much later an older woman opened. "Ah, Mr. Shelby. Come in, your brother is waiting for you in his office." She kindly greeted him as she stepped aside. "Thank you, Frances." Arthur smiled at her as he walked in. "This is (Y/N), an old friend of ours." He introduced her to the maid.

"Nice to meet you." (Y/N) smiled at the older woman who kindly smiled back. "Nice to meet you too. Can I take your coat for you?" Frances questioned. "I- Yes, sure." She answered, she took her coat off and handed it to Frances. "Alright, come on. Tom is in 'ere." Arthur spoke up. She shot another smile at Frances before following the oldest brother.

She felt her heart racing as the uneasy feeling grew. She had to reassure herself it was just Tommy but that was the whole problem. It was Tommy. She didn't know what she could expect. Before she had the chance to think about it, Arthur had opened the office door already. "We're 'ere." He announced as he walked in, getting Tommy's attention. He looked up from the papers he was reading and let his eyes wander over her frame once she had entered. "Hi." Her voice was soft, her hands folded in front of her body. She took a quick glance at his office. The dark furniture stood out against the green walls while a few paintings of horses accompanied them.

"You can sit." His low voice filled the room as he gestured with his hand to the sofa in front of his desk. She looked at Arthur before she made her way to the sofa and sat down, putting her purse next to her. She leant her back against one of the soft cushions and rested her hands in her lap before looking up at him. "I didn't know you had glasses." She noticed, trying to break the tension. "Arthur, if you don't mind." He nodded his head towards the door. "Yeah, okay." A low mumble fell from his lips as he followed his younger brother's order.

His eyes focused back on the woman in front of him. She glanced right back at him, not wanting to show him how uncomfortable she felt. "I've had an injury." He explained it in his own way. "What?" She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "The glasses. I need them because of the injury." He simply stated. "Oh, I didn't know." She awkwardly mumbled.

"You came here because you needed something?" He swiftly changed the subject, not wanting to waste any time. "I was wondering if you might need a hand in the betting shop. It would be a great way to work for my money." She explained as her fingers played with the fabric of her dress. Tommy leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on his abdomen. "I mean, I can't just live of your money forever, can I?" She added, slightly nervous.

"You can but the question is if we both want that." His tone was emotionless as usual. She felt herself getting annoyed at his comment but decided to let it slide, the sooner she got out of there, the better. "Well I certainly don't want to."

"Then I'm sure you could help us out." He sighed. "You remember how to take bets?" He asked, leaning forward to get his glass of whiskey. She nodded. "I do."

"Tomorrow, 8 AM then." He took his glasses off and put them on top of his papers. Despite the weird tension between the two of them, she felt relieved. "I'll be there." She was about to get up when he spoke up again. "How are you?" His eyes curiously scanned her face. She unsurely leant back against the sofa again. "I'm doing okay. You?"

He nodded slowly as he got up, walking over to the front of his desk, making the gap between them closer. He leant against the edge of the wooden desk and crossed his arms. "Me too. I heard Arthur offered to go out with you?" She kept his gaze a little longer before breaking it, letting her eyes wander over the floor. "He did." Tommy grabbed his cigarette case and took one from it. "That's a great step forward for you." He wetted it between his lips before lighting it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She couldn't hide the irritation in her voice. Tommy sighed before taking a drag of his cigarette. "I'm just saying that it's a good thing. Nothing more, nothing less." He put the whiskey that was in his hand on his desk while she moved to the edge of the sofa and grabbed her purse. "Whatever." A soft mumble left her lips as she got up. "Thank you for the job opportunity, I'll be there tomorrow morning." She didn't want to wait for his answer and decided to made her way to the door.

"(Y/N)." He stopped her by grabbing her upper arm. She turned her head to face him. "Yes?" Her annoyed tone indispensable as she watched the smoke ascend from his lips. "What's wrong?" His question was supposed to sound genuine, like he actually cared about what she thought but instead she was looking at a face that showed nothing and listened to a voice that matched it perfectly. "I don't know, Tommy. You tell me."

"Is it about what I said that night?" His hand still rested on her arm, the warmth of it confused her. "That and the fact you just disappeared for days." He turned to put his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray before turning back to her. "I wanted you to see what has happened to you."

She rolled her eyes as she shook her arm out of his grip. "And you thought that was the way to do it?" Her voice remained calm while she felt her body tense up. "Let's be honest, you wouldn't listen to it in any other way."

"Let's be honest and reverse it, shall we? Have you ever looked at yourself? Because you're a ghost of the person you once was as well and you're only becoming worse." She returned the questioned he asked her a few nights ago. Perhaps it was unfair, she knew exactly what he meant and his harsh words were supposed to be a wake up call but it still didn't sat right with her. Tommy stared intensely at her as she came closer. "And don't you dare to tell me that I don't understand what you've been trough. Because I was fucking there." Her calm voice seemed to break while her nails were digging into her purse.

"I said it because you deserve better." He specified while standing up straight. "Because I know how much it hurts you and because I don't want to stand at your fucking grave, regretting that I didn't say anything." She scoffed at his words, they were almost the same. He was just repeating them again. "Oh fuck off." She shook her head. "And with deserving better you mean yourself, don't you?"

He kept quiet for a moment while he looked into her eyes. "Tell me you didn't feel the same things as I did." He dared her. She felt his breath on her face, realising how close they were. "I don't know what you mean."

"You do. Now, tell me right now you didn't feel the same." She took a deep breath and looked down. "I didn't." The touch of his fingers on her chin alerted her, he tipped it up so she had no other choice than to look at him. "Look in me eyes and tell me again." He encouraged her, her eyes finding his as words got stuck in her throat. She did feel it, all of it but it must've been a moment of weakness. She couldn't have those feelings for him after years and if she did, she didn't only lie to herself but also to the man she promised to marry.

She leant into his touch, their faces only mere inches away from each other. "Say it." His voice was soft but demanding, her lips parted slightly but no words came out. Tommy closed the gap and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. She had been waiting for this since they exchanged knowing gazes the night of their dinner.

She dropped her purse before she let her hands rest against his chest, feeling the warmth of his body and a heartbeat that matched her own. Her lips discovered his. The soft feeling of them against hers, mixed with the intoxicating taste of cigarettes and whiskey, was one she had missed for so long. His hand moved from her chin to her cheek while the other found its way to her waist, pulling her closer. Her tongue carefully grazed his lips, almost begging him for more. While he granted her access, their tongues explored each other curiously. A soft moan left her mouth while her arms wrapped around his neck.

Tommy deepened the kiss, his arms sneaking around her waist, holding her tightly against his body. Her fingers ran trough the longer strands of his hair, softly tugging on it until she felt his lips leaving hers. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him, finding him looking back at her, his lips slightly apart and swollen from their intense contact. It took her a few seconds to realize that she needed more. More intimacy, more of him and only him.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, pulling him back in for another kiss. Lips crashed together, gentleness made place for neediness, both ready to devour each other right in that moment. His hand fumbled with her dress while hers slid under his suit jacket. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, kissing her skin exactly the way he knew she loved it. Moans that came from her mouth only proving that he was doing the right thing.

As soon as she was able to get rid of his suit jacket and it hit the floor, her hands ran trough his hair, nails raking over the back of his neck as he softly sucked on her skin. She was lost in the moment until realisation struck her. "Tommy..." It sounded more like a moan than she intended to. He continued to kiss up to her jaw, his fingers struggling with the opening of her dress. "Tommy...wait." Her voice came out as a stammer, lost of any stability.

She felt his breath against her cheek as he had stopped kissing her. "What's wrong?" His low, hoarse voice gave her goosebumps. "I-I think we should stop here." Her eyes scanned his face, noticing his flushed face. "Alright." He pressed a soft kiss on her neck before his warm hands left her body. She took a deep breath and adjusted her dress while Tommy picked up his jacket and put it back on. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to give off the wrong signals." She apologized, picking her purse up from the floor.

"You didn't. I think you've told me enough with this." He responded, a knowing look in his eyes. A blush crept onto her face, turning her cheeks a rosy color. "Right." She mumbled as she took in the man in front of her once more. "You might want to get your hair a bit decent before Arthur comes in." She suggested, looking at the mess she made of his dark hair.

He ran his fingers a few times trough his hair to fix it. "I think he has seen worse things than that." Tommy deadpanned. "I don't want him to think that something happened." She confessed, her fingers nervously sliding over the straps of her purse. "Let him think." She nodded, unsure of what to do next. She glanced around the office before breaking the silence. "Well, I'll be at the betting shop at 8 then." She watched as Tommy lit a new cigarette and nodded. "Great."

As she turned to make her way to the door, Tommy spoke up again. "If everything goes well, I need you here tomorrow evening at 7." She turned back to look at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Dinner." He simply stated. Her lips turned into a small smile, which she tried to hide. "I'll keep my schedule empty."

She walked up to the door, giving Tommy a last, quick glance before leaving his office. Once she closed the door, she still wore the smile he managed to give her. She looked around the large hallway, trying to find a glimpse of Arthur. Besides the amount of portraits she hadn't noticed before, there was no sign of the oldest Shelby. That was, until she heard a low grumble coming from the dining room, followed by a few curse words.

"Fuckin' 'ell." (Y/N) entered the dining room, stunned by the longest table she had seen accompanied by many dark, wooden chairs. Above the head of the table she found another portrait of Tommy and a horse. "What happened?" She asked as she walked over to Arthur, who she found on his knees on the floor. "Dropped the fuckin' cup." He was holding the shards in his hands as he got up. "I don't get why they give me these smoll cups." She couldn't help but chuckle. "I hope they weren't too expensive." She joked, earning a smile from Arthur. "Ah well, Tommy can afford some new cups. Anyway," He put the shards on top of the table. "Got the job?" He questioned, hopefully looking at her. "I did." She smiled. "I can start tomorrow."

"Isn't that great news!" He exclaimed while he pulled her into a hug. "Welcome back, sister."

The car ride from Arrow House to the market felt much more relaxed, the tension was gone and after some banter with Arthur, she felt the best she had felt in months. While Arthur reminisced about the past and how his life in Small Heath used to be, she couldn't help but think about the kiss she had shared with Tommy. It was something she didn't knew she needed so badly. She never found the exact feeling he gave her with someone else and although David came close, it wasn't the same.

"Do you remember?" Arthur turned his head to look at (Y/N), getting her attention. "I- Yes of course I do." She lied, no clue what he was talking about. "You almost killed me." He laughed as he focused his eyes back on the road. "I hope you're better with guns now because I don't want to experience such a thing ever again."

She finally grasped what he was talking about, the memories of the brothers teaching her how to use a gun was pretty much an event itself. "Yeah, I'm still sorry about that. I panicked." She chuckled. "Me too." Arthur laughed. "It was only a few centimeters between life and death."

"I remember Polly wasn't too happy when she saw all of our scared faces when we came in and you made it even worse with your awful lie." (Y/N) giggled at the thought of the disappointed look on their aunts face. "Well Finn, could've fired the gun, ya know."

"Finn was with her the whole time." She countered. Arthur gave her quick glance as he thought about it. "Ah yeah, that was it." His answer made (Y/N) laugh. "Good ol' times." He chuckled as he parked his car on the sidewalk. She looked at the street in front of her, many market stalls stood on each side of it and a crowd of people were curiously looking at them. She just had to do it, after that it would become much easier. She took a deep breath and got out of the car, Arthur did the same and waited for her in front of it.

"Have you been here before?" She asked while she walked up to him. "I'm not the type of man that likes to go shopping." He chuckled. "I see." A smile formed on her face. "What about your wife?"

"Sometimes, although she prefers the smaller one, closer to home." He answered. She wanted to ask him another question when a young man approached him from behind. "Mr. Shelby? You have a flat tyre." He pointed at one of the tyres of the car. "For fucks sake." Arthur grumbled as he walked over to the back of the car, inspecting the tyre. "Fuck."

"Everything alright?" She wondered as she came up to the side of the car. "I have to fix this, love. It might take a bit of time." He replied as he looked up at her, she could see the guilt in his eyes. "It's fine." She looked at the crowded market over her shoulder before looking back at him. "I can go by myself."

"Are you sure?" He wondered, getting a nod from her in response. "If you stay here, I think I'll be alright." She gave him a nervous smile. "I won't but also can't go anywhere." He joked, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "I can help." The young man offered. "Might be even quicker then."

She looked at him and nodded before switching her attention back to Arthur. "I'll meet you back here." It sounded more like a question. "Yes ma'am." He gave her a reassuring wink. She answered his gesture with a small smile before making her way to the market. The grip on her purse tightened when she went up in the crowd of people, making sure to avoid any eye contact with anyone, only looking at the products vendors tried to sell.

While she passed the various stalls, the sun appeared from behind the clouds. Warm sunrays caressed her face, natures way to give her a needed embrace of comfort. A sigh escaped her mouth as she felt the tension on her shoulders lessen, a kind of lost confidence within her growing at the same time. It was the first time in weeks that it felt like everything would be okay.

She continued her walk past the stalls, buying flowers, food and even treated herself on a new dress. While having a brief conversation with the kind lady who stood behind the stall, she quickly glanced over to the spot where Arthur had parked his car. Although she could barely see him due to the people who blocked her view, it seemed he was still busy with the flattened tyre. After she finished her conversation she decided to go see one more stall before returning back to the car. She felt proud of herself that despite the fear of going out, she did it on her own. Just like she used to do.

While she turned around, her heart dropped and a cold feeling filled her senses. She turned back, her eyes frantically looking for Arthur as she pushed past a few people. A sickening wave of terror welled up from her stomach. She quickened her pace until someone blocked her path, a hand kept her from moving by holding her arm firmly. "There you are. I've been looking for you."

Her widened eyes looked in disbelief at the man in front of her. "David..." She tried to look past him, hoping that Arthur would've seen them and was on his way to come help her but he wasn't. "Why don't we go talk, hm?" He gently stroked his knuckles over her cheek while she tried not to flinch. "No, let me go." Her voice came out softer than she had hoped, all the confidence she had felt moments ago had left her body within seconds.

"Listen, we can play this the easy way or the hard way." His voice sounded kind but his eyes told her otherwise. She fought herself out of his grip and quickly ran past him, hoping to reach Arthur as fast as she could. She didn't came far as she had hoped when she got yanked back by her wrist, his other hand grabbed her neck harshly. They earned some questionable looks from a few people but nobody dared to speak up. She could feel his breath against her ear as he forced her to look at the car in the distance. "Hard way then." His grip tightened even more. "You see that guy who's helping that Shelby scum?" He growled in her ear, she nodded quickly in response.

"One order from me and he makes sure that changing a flattened tyre is the last thing Arthur Shelby will do. Understood?" The threatening words and immense fear brought tears to her eyes. "I said understood?" He shook her harshly. "Y-yes." She croaked out, her lip trembling. "Great, lets go somewhere quiet." He pushed her towards an alley, away from all the people who were her only chance for help. Once they were out of sight, he turned her around and pressed her back hard against the brick wall behind her, making her drop some of her groceries. A soft whimper left her lips as she felt a stinging pain in her back.

He trapped her with his body and grabbed her cheeks harshly between his fingers. "What a fucking surprise to find you here." His eyes were dark, spewing the anger that was raging inside him into her frightened ones. "You really think you'd be safe with Thomas fuckin' Shelby, didn't you? Is this why you met up with the bastard?"

She tried to shake her head but he restrained her from doing so. "Fucking speak!" He barked at her. "N-no, we just-" She panicked as she watched his face come closer. "You what?" He spat at her. "We just talked. It's true, everything I've told you, i-is true. It really is." She blurted out, afraid of what his next step could be. The morning when he forced to tell her what she had done the night she met with Tommy, playing in her head.

A humorless laugh fell off his lips. "You're going to tell me you just talked to someone we are trying to get rid of, then you run away from me and now you're living in his fucking house. Is that what it is? Because that’s exactly what it sounds like to me!" He narrowed his eyes, the grip on her face tightening. "What have you told those god damn gypsies?! Or were you working for them all along?! Like the fucking whore you are!" Her body trembled while he screamed at her, her hands pulling onto his, in hopes that he would let go of her face.

"I didn’t say anything. I just couldn't take it anymore." Her voice trembled with fear. "Couldn't take what anymore." He hissed. "The beating. It was too much." A few tears ran down her cheeks when he let go of her face and took ahold of her wrist. "But darling, you did that to yourself." He wiped away her tears with his thumb while she tried to turn her face away from him. He firmly grabbed her jaw. "See, you're doing it again. You never listen."

"Stop, David." She begged. "I don't want this anymore. Please. I don't want to marry you." A small smile appeared on his face as he shook his head. "Oh, don't say stupid things now." He lifted her hand, his fingers tapping the shiny ring on her finger. "Why are you still wearing this then?" Her eyes fell on the ring while she gulped harshly. "Because I didn't know. I-I didn't know what to do."

"Exactly. You know damn well that you want to go trough with this, you still love me. If you really wanted to end this all you would've got rid of it the moment you got in that fuckers car." He let go of her hand and took a step back while her eyes followed him. "You know I should take you home now, teach you a lesson about running away like a fucking child." He paused his sentence as he looked at her with the most vile look she had ever seen. "But since you wanted to play it the hard way, you'll get it the hard way."

He opened his coat, the holster of his gun appearing underneath it. Her heart starting beating faster and her lips began to tremble, she wanted to run but she stood frozen in the same spot. He took another gun out of his coat and held it up while he inspected it just a second too long. "David, please. I-I'll just come home, okay? I’m so sorry." He looked up at her and chuckled. "Oh, this one is not to kill you, love." He tapped on the gun holster underneath his coat. "However this one might."

He stepped closer to her, grabbing her hand while forcing her to take the gun from him. “You’ll show me how sorry you are.” The cold metal touched the skin of her trembling hands, her glossy eyes still focused on his face. “What do you mean?” Her voice was barely a whisper, scared of whatever he wanted from her. “You’re going to take those Shelby’s out. One by one.”

"No...No no, I won't. I refuse to do it." Tears streamed down her face. "I'll come home and I'll do whatever you want, I promise. I'm sorry David, I really am. I don't want to get involved in your business." She tried to hand him the gun back but he pushed her back into the wall behind her, a soft groan left her lips from the sudden impact, the other belongings in her hand dropping on the cobblestones. He shook his head. "Look at you, I can't believe you think that tinker's lifer is worth more than yours." He clenched his jaw while he wrapped his hand around her throat, making it hard for her to breath. "You have no choice. It's a fucking order. You brought this upon yourself, once again. Now deal with the fucking consequences."

She tried to tear his hand away from her throat but it only resulted of him tightening his grip and cutting of her air supply while she was scratching his arm in panic. "You don't want to be the reason each of your family members will end up with a bullet in their head, do you?" He stroked her cheek gently with his other hand until he released his other hand from her throat. She gasped desperately for air while more tears streamed down her face. "I'll give you 3 weeks." A sick, twisted smile grew on his face as he watched her regain her breath slowly.

"Look at the mess you made." He pointed at the stuff she bought, scattered all over the cobblestones. "Pick it up." He demanded as he watched her try to gather everything together, all while still trying to catch her breath. He let his hand rest on her back, making it seem as a nice gesture before giving her a firm push which caused her to fall hard. Her knees scraped over the stones, leaving a tear in her dress. A soft sob left her mouth before she looked up at him. He towered over her, looking at her like she was just a piece of garbage, unworthy to be even treated like a normal human being. "Midland next Thursday, 9AM. You can tell me about the progress then."

She watched as he walked away, leaving her alone in the quiet alley. He had humiliated her, like he had done so many times before but this time it wasn’t even the worst thing. He forced her to get involved into his problems or rather forced to solve his problems and there was no way for her to win. More tears fell down her cheeks while her trembling hands picked up her belongings. Her eyes fell on the gun David had forced upon her, she wanted to leave it there, far away from her, from everyone but the fear of him finding out was too big to ignore. She grabbed it and stuffed quickly into the side of her bra, safely under her dress so that Arthur wouldn't see it.

Arthur. Fuck. He was probably looking for her. She got up and took a deep breath. While she adjusted her dress she noticed that the tear in her dress stood out too much to hide. She had to think of something to tell him, just a quick believable lie. She made sure her coat covered her dress while she wiped away her tears. Her hands gripped tightly on her belongings before she left the alley and returned to the market.

While she walked back, she saw Arthur coming her way with a worried look on his face. "There you are. I was looking for ya." She smiled kindly at him while she tried not the break down the moment she heard his voice. He noticed her teary eyes and her ripped dress. "Are ya alright? What happened?" She looked down at her dress before looking back to him, a sigh left her lips. "I fell."

"I've walked back and forth over this damn market and hadn't seen a sign of you once. Where did you fell?" He asked, his suspicion raising. "I was trying to find a favorite spot of mine." She lied. "I came there often when I was little." Arthur looked at her. "You came here often?" He asked again. "With my grandma, yes. But I tripped and fell on those fucking cobblestones. Let me tell you, it still hurts as bad as when we're little." She joked while a soft chuckle escaped her mouth.

Arthur thought back at the painful childhood memory. It made sense, the ripped dress, the teary eyes. She must've fallen. He put his hand on her shoulder, his way of showing comfort. "Are you alright?" He sincerely wondered. "I'm alright."

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