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kitty-kat-art · 2 months ago

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🧍‍♂️Mental illness has won, I've written a little in-depth essay exploring Dale as a character and breaking down his personality, actions, and how it relates to Dev and Doug. Also I threw in a bunch of my own little headcanons 💀

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ‼️ This post will contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, and eating disorders. I don't go into uncomfortable detail, but still! Keep this warning in mind when reading on. Obviously, you are very much free to disregard any takes I have if they don't align with what you perceive, especially in regards to what I personally headcannon lololol. I am highkey projecting onto Dale because I like where they took his character compared to his first appearance in the original FOP. It presents MANY questions regarding what led him to end up the way he did, and that's something I always LOVE exploring!

Anyways, please also feel free to expand on anything I bring up here! There's a LOT, and I'm sure I still forgot to mention something somewhere... 😭 (Also, keep in mind I am only on episode 20 atm, so I have more Dale content to analyze besides the fact, so I may add onto this in the future or change my onions JSKDJSKDJLSJDKSJ)

The way Dale has been portrayed in FOPANW as one of the main antagonists presents a compelling exploration of Dale's character development, particularly in relation to Dev and Doug. It suggests that Dale's journey to becoming the father he is today stems directly from the influence of Doug, who, upon Dale's release from Vicky's lemonade dungeon, very briefly acknowledges him before shifting his focus entirely to Timmy. Dale doesn't even get a moment to greet his father before Doug redirects his attention to Timmy... This moment encapsulates the emotional neglect Dale experiences at the hands of Doug literally in an instant, as Doug doesn't even let his son get a single word in before moving on to prioritizes another child he doesn't even know, no doubt leaving Dale caught in a whirlwind of emotions—from initial excitement to a profound sense of emptiness at the realization that he's just going from one location lacking in proper support to another.

(Literally "WOW IT'S MY DAD 😃" to "... 😐" in seconds when he is ignored after 7 years of trauma just so his dad can yap at some other kid 😭)

Moreover, I believe that Doug’s obsession with monetary success profoundly impacted Dale's own self-worth. Before living with Doug, Dale was already fixated on hard work to please Vicky, aiming to generate wealth. Living under Doug's influence only magnifies this mentality, leading Dale to internalize that his identity is tied to his status as a Dimmadome, where financial success equates to personal value. This relentless pursuit of wealth distorts Dale's perception of self-worth, establishing a direct correlation between his earnings and his sense of purpose. If he fails to meet his own financial expectations, he feels worthles. It's been pointed out before that he falls into despair when his ability to make money is hindered.

While I don't think Doug was as absent in Dale's life as Dale is in Dev's (obviously we can't know for sure unless ANW explores that), the emotional absence is certainly palpable. I personally like to think that Dale is aware of his own flaws, yet his pride prevents him from acknowledging them. Maybe he has the incessant voice of Doug in his head, reinforcing the belief that he must constantly generate income to avoid feeling useless... This toxic mindset might lead Dale to distance himself from Dev on purpose, as he recognizes the love he never received and perceives Dev’s lack of gratitude for his own circumstances as a stark reminder of his own impoverished childhood. Dale's bitterness and jealousy manifest in a misguided perception that Dev has everything he, Dale, has ever desired, failing to recognize that Dev's true yearning is for paternal love and attention—elements Dale is ill-equipped to provide due to his own upbringing and emotional immaturity due to having never received unconditional love and support from his own dad, which can be assumed based on Doug's priorities and personality as portrayed in the original show... (If we get more seasons for A New Wish, I hope that they get a chance to explore Dales dynamic with Doug one on one, that could be something very interesting, I think, even if it is only mentioned briefly...)

Dale's behavior is UNDENIABLY selfish and manipulative, painting him as a narcissist. However, these traits can also be viewed as a defense mechanism, a survival strategy developed in response to a lifetime of neglect and abuse. There is a possibility that throughout his life, Dale has learned to trust no one but himself, leading to a bottled-up emotional state that makes him appear aloof on the surface. Consequently, he mirrors the tactics used against him by Vicky, employing similar strategies to cope with his own vulnerabilities, manipulating others and prioritizing money over the well-being of others. To outsiders, he may appear as a self-important narcissist, but this could easily be a façade that masks his desperate need for validation on his self-worth, which he vainly seeks through material wealth and accolades. When someone has no control over their life, they seek control through other means...

The accumulation of wealth becomes a means for Dale to convince himself of his greatness. Surrounded by paintings and statues of himself, he clings to the notion that financial success equates to personal value. It's a tragic cycle of self-deception; he rationalizes his wealth as proof of his worthiness, seeking external validation to fill the void within with which he lacks the proper tools to confront in a meaningful and healthy way. This could very well be an example of him attempting to take control of his own thoughts and feelings towards himself.

Dale clings to his wealth as a tangible affirmation of his worth as an individual, a testament to his perceived success and brilliance. 'Look at all this money I have! I have literally everything I could ever want and more! Don't you agree? Don't you think I'm rich? Aren't I doing well carrying my father's legacy as a Dimmadome? (Please recognize my status. Tell me I’m good. Validate my worth by giving me money.)' That type of mentality. This desperate plea for acknowledgment underscores a deeper insecurity, revealing his need for external validation to reinforce his self-esteem. He is the kind of man who believes that money solves all your problems, and maybe there's a chance that he has told himself that enough times that he finally started to believe it. He even seems to speak of his own traumatic experience working for Vicky as something that built his character. He LITERALLY carries a picture of his trauma around in his pocket and happily shows it to Dev...

"When I was you're age, I spent my Saturdays working in a FACTORY underneath a lemonade stand, for SEVEN YEARS. That's 364 Saturdays, do you know how many Saturday morning cartoons I missed out on!? ALL OF THEM... And look at the man I turned out to be." This quote vividly paints him as a bitter and jealous adult because he missed out on having a proper childhood, all while emphasizing that he views his trauma almost like a GOOD thing... Because otherwise he wouldn't be where he is now, so it HAD to be good, right? Just look at the man he turned out to be! (This guy is coping so hard! 😭)

In contrast, Dev appears to be navigating his OWN identity through the lens of his father's image, perhaps in an attempt to earn his approval. It's a common phenomenon for children to reflect their parents' behaviors, whether through mimicking their language, fashion, or taking on their parent's interests as their own... I believe it was Dev's choice to emulate his father's style... The white jacket and boots with gold accents paired with dark pants and slicked back hair... It suggests a conscious effort to mirror Dale on Dev's part. It seems unlikely that Dale actively encourages this mimicry; rather, it appears to stem from Dev's own desire for recognition, and the age old inclination nearly every child has with idolizing their parents and wanting to grow up to be JUST like them... Whether Dale is oblivious to this or simply indifferent remains a bit of a mystery.

Something else I've thought about is that Dev's tendency to wear sunglasses could also signify his own struggle with vulnerability, as he often obscures his eyes, maybe in an attempt to shield himself from the world or prevent himself from revealing to much emotion, much like his father. Yet, I've noticed a pattern with Dev. Sometimes, when he is feeling particularly vulnerable or upset, he removes the shades, revealing a desire to be seen and understood— a stark contrast to Dale, who prefers to hide behind his wealth and image and avoid eye contact at all costs unless the topic of discussion is money.

I like to think that Dale’s tendency to avoid eye contact could be interpreted as a defense mechanism against the judgment he feels from others, as if he can't stand seeing the way people judge him (This is just my own personal HC). This avoidance would stem from a deep-seated insecurity that was planted in him at a young age and never got uprooted before it took hold. Perhaps he feels scrutinized and exposed, with the exception being when the conversation shifts to financials... In these instances, he may feel a temporary sense of control, something he has lacked his WHOLE life, on top of never being properly loved when it mattered most in regards to the development of his brain.

I feel like Dale's pride would keep him from confronting his emotional turmoil, leading him to suffer in silence. He guards his vulnerabilities closely, perhaps fearing that revealing his pain would make it 'real'. The prospect of others discovering his deep-seated feelings of inadequacy terrifies him, reinforcing his need to maintain a façade of success. Because of this, he ends up reflecting narcissistic traits on the surface to make up for his own incompetence.

I also HC that Dale's emotional distance from Dev is a conscious choice rooted in his own experiences of fatherly love—or rather, the lack thereof. His upbringing under Doug no doubt left Dale with a warped understanding of affection and how one goes about loving another person. I mean... Just look back at their first interaction in the original cartoon where Doug didn't even give Dale a second to say anything before turning his attention to Timmy, basically saying 'You are not as important as the thing that can give me money or free labor', which is an attitude he carries into adulthood with Dev.

Dale's perception of his son also seems clouded by envy, as he watches Dev embrace the childhood experiences he himself was deprived of. This dynamic could explain why Dale sometimes appears 'burdened' by Dev's presence; he may be grappling with the painful reminder of what he missed out on. The interplay between their identities and emotional needs highlights the complexities of familial relationships, particularly in the context of legacy and the expectations placed upon them. The cyclical nature of this dynamic becomes a poignant exploration of how unresolved issues from one generation can profoundly impact the next if left unresolved. In this context, it becomes apparent that Dale’s deliberate push against any emotional attatchment with Dev is a projection of his own unresolved feelings.

Dale's existence has been predominantly defined by work and money, reducing him to a mere instrument for generating wealth—essentially, the heir to the Dimmadome fortune. This is not a matter of opinion, but fact... And this type of upbringing has deprived him of the fundamental aspects of being treated as a person with emotional needs, to which he passes onto his own son. To Vicky, Dale was barely human. Left with a gaggle of other presumably kidnapped or trafficked children that she used to generate money for herself while neglecting their basic needs, like providing them with food, water, proper sunlight and places to sleep. Just look at Dale's body right after he is freed compared to his appearance when he's older. He was significantly skinnier and much paler than Timmy and his dad. Not to mention the tattered clothes that barely fit him and the dirt and grime covering his body.

Expanding off his abuse under Vicky, if we consider the realisfic ramifications regarding that whole situation, I HC that Dale would struggle with food consumption in the sense that he might over indulge due to the ingrained fear of not knowing the next time he's going to eat, and then feeling self conscious about himself after the fact and 'punishing' himself by not eating for extended periods of time. Additionally, though it's said as a joke in the original show, Dale expresses his discomfort seeing natural light... "The light! It burns!"

(Also note how skinny the kid in the background on the right is! Holy shit! Vicky was obviously NOT concerned with their well being, this would absolutely affect Dale mentally)

But if we take this throwaway line seriously, it's important to note that people who are kept in the dark for extended periods of time can have their vision permanently damaged. So, I like to imagine that Dale wears contacts or even reading glasses on occasion when no one else is around. (Just cause I think reading glasses are cute... 😭 Also I love over analyzing cartoon men... 🫶 Also I love taking things too seriously in regards to my headcanons teehee 😇)

Ultimately, Dale's emotional landscape is one of confusion and disconnection, leaving him with no framework for how to genuinely love someone. His interactions with Dev reveal a complex web of projection, unfulfilled desires, and a tragic inability to break free from the cycle of emotional neglect that has defined his life.

In conclusion...

#fairly oddparents #fopanw #fairly oddparents a new wish #dale dimmadome #dev dimmadome #doug dimmadome #headcanons #headcanon #long post #I enjoy psychoanalyzing cartoon characters 🫶

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darlingshane · 1 year ago

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Salt of the Earth ~ Part 3 (Final)

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Friends to lovers, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Smut, Shower Sex, BJ's, P in V, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Addiction, Alcohol, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy, Undisclosed age gap.

Word Count: 12.3k // Chapters 8-10 // AO3 Link.

— Part 1 (Chapters 1-4) // Part 2 (Chapters 5-7)

A/N: This part includes my version of the famous 'Fishes' episode. Though having Maya in it changed a few things, most of it is pretty faithful to the actual script. I also borrowed some of the dialogue to keep it as close as possible.

Chapter 8: As warm as toast

Maya is hugging Michael’s back when the warm breath of her dog is pressed against her ear. She tells the dog to go back to sleep, but Coco, ignoring her request, whines a couple of times until Maya has no choice but to get up. Though it's still terribly early, she takes Coco out to the park down the street from Michael’s building. It's freezing outside, but that doesn’t stop Coco from zooming across the park a hundred times until she’s spent while Maya paces along the fence, wrapped in thick layers of hat, scarf, mittens and a bulky coat.

Upon their return, Maya fills Coco’s bowl and makes some coffee.

They’ve fallen into a nice routine with Michael. He’s made room in his life for them, as much as they’ve welcomed him open into theirs. Half a week they spent in his apartment, and the other half at Maya’s house.

While she sips on her coffee, she tries to guess what's inside the big wrapped box that has been sitting in Michael’s living room for a week. Curiosity has been killing her since she saw it the other day. Her fingers tap on one of the sides and lightly pull on the edge of the red and white paper, trying to sneak a peek of the box.

“I told you to leave that alone, Maybird. That’s not for you.” Michael catches her red-handed as he comes out of the bedroom.

“C’mon, Bear, let me open it already. It’s Christmas.”

“Uh-uh, it’s Christmas Eve.”

“Is it a sex swing? It feels like a sex swing.” She keeps tapping on the box.

“It's not a sex swing. Keep guessing.” Michael snorts, leaning over to kiss her good morning. “Your face is cold, did you go out?”

“Uh-huh.” She glances at Coco, who’s currently devouring her food by the kitchen. “She woke me up and dragged me outside.”

“At least she knows how to hold it and ask for the head.” Michael goes around the breakfast bar to fill a mug with coffee. “Remember that yorkie that Francie had that couldn’t stop peeing everywhere.”

“Well, training goes a long way.”

“That's what everyone kept telling her, but her parents ended up leaving a poor thing in the kennel.”

“I mean it's Francie. I'm not surprised. She really can't be trusted to take care of anything. How's she? I haven't seen her in ages.”

“She's around. I think. Last time I saw her was probably a couple of years ago. She’s banned from our house.”

“Why?”

“Beats me. It's a Sugar thing. I think Francie tried to hit on Pete or something. You'll have to ask Sug.”

“Really? Just when I thought she couldn’t sink lower.”

“Tell me about it.” He pulls up his sweats as he takes a seat on the couch next to her.

“Okay, stop trying to distract me. So, if it’s not a sex swing, or a pizza oven, which I really wanted by the way…”

“The sex swing?” He lifts a brow at her and takes a sip of his mug.

“The pizza oven, smartass. How about… a weighted blanket?”

“First, you don’t need any of those. You can cook pizza already in your oven, and why do you need a weighted blanket or a sex swing when you have me?”

“That’s true.”

“You know what? Go ahead and open it, but you’re gonna need Coco, cause like I told you, that’s not for you. C’mere Coco Girl.”

Coco’s floppy ears perk up at Michael’s call. The dog turns her head to look at Michael for a second before continuing chewing her food.

“She’s too busy to open presents right now.”

“Figures.”

They wait till she’s done, and Maya beams in delight, quickly tearing apart the flashy wrapping paper. That delight turns into a mocking frown when she finds out it’s a big, fluffy dog bed for Coco.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding. It’s not for me.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, sweetheart. You know I have something else for you. She needed a bed here. This couch is so uncomfortable, no even a dog wants to lay here. She’s always either hoarding the bed or sleeping on the rug.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her lips curve up, watching Coco inspect her present before attempting to curl inside. “That’s it, baby, lay down. Good girl.”

“Are we still up for tomorrow?”

Maya sighs, “yeah, I think so. Did you tell them I was coming?”

“I said you might. Just in case you change your mind.”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No,” he strokes her hair with his free hand. “I really want you there.”

“What are we going to tell, y’know… everyone?”

Everyone – meaning Carmy. Though their relationship is practically nonexistent, the last thing she wants to do is show up holding hands with Michael and flaunt it on anyone’s face without a warning.

“Well, Richie is the only one who knows.” Cause he caught them last week making out at their usual bar. “I guess Tiff knows too. Does it freak you out? Do you wanna back out now?”

“No, no. I just… I guess I’m not ready to announce it on a day like this. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay, baby. I get it. It’s driving me crazy, too.”

“If they find out, that’s great, but I don’t just wanna put it out there right away.”

“We’ll just have to keep a low profile, then. How hard can it be?”

“I’ve never had a secret relationship before. It could be fun pretending, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

“We just have to hope Richie doesn’t blow our cover.”

“Oh, we’re screwed.”

“I don’t know about that. But I can tell someone is about to get screwed. Shower?” His brow playfully arches.

“Hmm, you’ve read my mind.”

It’s that rush of excitement of being with someone new that leads them quickly to the bathroom. He undresses her just as fast as she pulls his sweats and underwear off him. He hasn’t finished taking off her bra and his lips automatically invite themselves into her neck as she fumbles to get the water going so it warms up before stepping inside.

Under the warm spray of the water, their bodies fuse together. Lips against lips share a vicious amount of kisses and laughs. Their arms tangle around the other, her hands become his, and vice versa. The steam filling the room boils hotter when Michael turns Maya around and presses himself on her ass while one of his hands slides between her legs. Her palms brace the tiled wall, as his mouth bites the flesh at the curve of her neck. Her moans and curses sound like heaven when the blunt tip of his cock slides into her opening. His hips push painfully slow as her walls stretch inch after inch. Once he’s fully sheathed in her tender pussy, his eyes squeeze shut, he lets his desire guide the pacing of his thrusts. Maya waves her hips at the same time, countering his moves until both find the same rhythm. One of his hands clutches the curve of her ass, keeping her secured, as the other stays right on her pussy, rubbing her swollen clit with passion.

His back turns red as the hot water keeps pouring over him. The fiery pressure rising up in his core makes his cock throb inside her. He looks down to see his length disappear inside her fast with each push. At the same time, his mind dissipates somewhere up, above the mist of the bathroom, somewhere above clouds. It’s like he’s traded one addiction for another. As long as he’s with her, he’s safe. It’s not the healthiest way to deal with it, but right now he doesn’t give a shit. The climb to that high is way faster, it feels better, it’s less toxic, but it lasts shorter. That’s the only downside.

“Michael… please,” her breathing swallows, as she inches close to the finish line.

“I know, sweetheart, shh…. Come for me. C’mon…”

Following her plea, he pushes a little harder, rubs a little faster until her body seizes up. She lets out a strained moan that bounces off the steamed walls, as her opening contracts around him harder than he’s ever felt. Maybe it’s the position. It feels like pure bliss to have her squeezing every last drop of him.

Catching his own breath, he hangs his head down to rest on her nape for a moment. While still riding that high, he slowly slips out of her and drops to his knees on the shower floor. His hands handle her body around so she's facing him. As her abdomen lines up with his face, he glances up to capture her glowing aura, stunning as ever. Maya’s still floating in that same sea of ecstasy he floats on. It makes her look like a goddess from his position. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, sticks to her skin as it touches the curves of her chest. Water trails down her body as if she was standing under a waterfall. And like the Goddess she is, he aims to devout himself only to her.

He gently holds one of her legs up, letting his lips glide across the surface of her thigh as he drapes her leg over his shoulder. His mouth waters as it gets closer to her center. Licking his lips, his eager tongue just to taste the heaven between her legs. It's slicked and tender, ready to consume. His mouth fits perfectly against it. Wide open. Desperate to please her with the flick of his tongue and ease his own affliction.

Maya leans her back on the wall, anchors her only feet hard to the floor, and grips at his soaked hair as his tongue works restlessly all over her sex. He sucks her clit between his lips, licks her folds, circles her dripping opening, and revels in tasting both, him and her. In a wild frenzy, he devours it all. It consumes his need and desperation for more. Her moans are exquisite. Her body writhes in his hold as she rises up gracefully to a higher plane.

Chapter 9: Bigger fishes to fry

“Are you really going to wear that?” Asks Maya as soon as she sees the outfit Michael has chosen for Christmas dinner.

“What’s wrong with this?” He gazes at his blue Under Armour shirt and jeans ensemble.

“Workout shirt, jeans and kicks, really? Why don’t you put on a nice sweater at least?”

“Baby, it’s just dinner at my house with the same fucking people I see every year. It's not like the Queen of England is gonna show up to have tea and biscuits.”

“C’mon, Bear, do it for me?” Maya pulls out her big adorable eyes and disarming smile.

“Ugh, alright, only for you.” Unable to resist her power, he easily yields and goes into his bedroom. From a drawer, he collects a dark blue fisherman sweater. Then he sticks his hand into the closet to pick up the vintage jacket she bought him for his birthday. To finish his new getup, he trades his sneakers for ankle boots.

Maya is taking out a dessert from the fridge that she bought this morning to take to The Berzattos.

“Wow,” her head turns when hearing his footfalls. “See, you look so much better now.”

“Yeah? You clean up pretty nice too,” he picks up her hand and makes her spin under his arm, capturing the stunning shape of her body hugged in a cream knitted dress that almost touches her knees. Right below, black leather boots cover the rest of her legs.

“Thanks, handsome bear.” After her spin, her head tilts to the side, capturing a chaste kiss from his lips.

“What’s that?” Michael points at the dish covered in tin foil on the breakfast bar.

“It's a strawberry tart.”

“You made a tart?” He lifts part of the foil to uncover the well-crafted pastry.

“What? Surprised that this tart made a tart?”

“Well, yeah. You almost poisoned me the last time you cooked.”

“You got me. I didn't make it. I bought it this morning when I took Coco out.”

Michael softly chuckles. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring that. Have you forgotten about pudding-gate? Donna's going to eat you alive if you show up with food.”

“Oh, I think that night was the first time I got drunk. I don't remember the details. But I do remember the pudding and eating a bowl with Carmy in the garage. Who brought it?”

“Uncle Jimmy's first wife.”

“That's right. She was never seen again after that. Okay, I guess I could bring a bottle of wine.”

“You're gonna make me look bad if I show up with nothing.”

“You could bring the tart, and say that you made it. I bet Donna will be delighted if it comes from the golden child.”

“That's a great idea, baby. It'll be a great distraction when she starts strangling me that people won't even notice this other tart.” His hand boldly squeezes her ass.

“Hey!” she swats his shoulder with the back of her hand. “I thought we agreed to keep our hands off each other.”

“I meant later. Here, I can still get a piece if I want.” He links his arms around her waist and peppers the curve of her neck with kisses, making her laugh with the coarse tickle of his beard.

“Oh, this is gonna be harder than I thought,” she whines when his lips nibble her earlobe.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He laughs against her ear, gripping tightly at her hips. “I’m not sure how long I can make it without touching you like this.”

“Well, we better think of something…”

Ready to go, they hop in the car and drop Coco first at Maya’s house. While Michael waits in the car she collects a bottle of wine to bring for dinner.

It’s then that she gets jittery about the whole ordeal. It’s been years since she attended one of their functions. Christmas at the Berzattos was never a walk in the park, and as she has heard recently, they still aren’t. But she’s not the one to talk cause the Silvas have always had their own issues, proof of that is her desertion from her own family dinner.

“Okay, kiss me one more time,” she requests after parking at the end of the street. They both lean in to meet in the middle over the center console for a chaste kiss. “One more.”

Michael delves into her mouth a little deeper, hoping it’d ease her up.

As they walk up to the house, they pass Maya’s empty childhood home, and Michael just wraps an arm around her and kisses her hair.

“Their loss,” he mumbles. “Don’t think about them, Maybird.”

“I won’t.”

His arm unfurls away from her body as they get closer to the Berzattos’ house. When they reach the door, they stay there for a minute, filling their lungs with cold air as they muster the courage to cross the threshold.

The house is loud with people talking and laughing when they step inside.

Maya can see Michael's face changing as the door closes behind them. That raw vulnerability, his bashful expression he's not afraid to show her slips once again behind that mask he's fought so hard to get rid of. She can't hold it against him. Everyone has their coping mechanisms and this is Michael's.

She becomes suddenly the new sensation, everyone openly welcomes her as if they hadn't seen her in ages. Which is actually the case. She's bombarded with questions she doesn't really want to answer like — How are your parents? How does it feel being back? Are you seeing someone?

Mirroring Michael's, she just draws her best smile and tries to satisfy their curiosity while Michael takes a smoke break with Sugar leaving her to be eaten by wolves before she can protest.

To Maya’s disbelief, after the third degree, she’s welcomed with open arms by Donna Berzatto, who is just as intense as she remembers. Hair on point, makeup on point, fresh manicure softly scratches Maya’s jaw when she briefly holds her face.

“We've missed you, Mayhem Maya.” Donna actually coined that nickname after that incident when she broke one of her figurines when she was a kid. And she'd never live that down. It makes her feel like a child every time she calls her that or the way she manages to compliment her and patronize her at the same time.

“Hey,” she hears the familiar voice as Donna disappears into the kitchen.

Maya turns around to see Carmy climbing down the stairs.

“Hey, you made it,” she says a little hesitant, trying to decide whether to hug him or just shake his hand as he reaches the last step.

“You too.”

Hug. She goes for it and tucks her arms around his shoulders for no more than two seconds. It feels a little awkward and cold given their history but understandable. They're not as close anymore, and it doesn't come as natural as it used to. She tries to internalize that as best as she can, but there’s still something that doesn’t feel right. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to show up back again into his life. Being Michael’s girlfriend, no less. Perhaps deciding to hide that wasn’t the best choice after all. It sounded reasonable when she chose that, but right now, it feels like she’s betraying him.

“How's Copenhagen?”

“Cold. How is being back?”

“Weird.”

“Tell me about it… Never thought I'd see you again in one of these functions.”

“Yeah, Michael insisted. You knew I was coming, right?”

He nods. “Sugar told me.”

They shoot back and forth meaningless questions without really diving into anything substantial. For the first time, she looks at his cold blue eyes and realizes they're not best friends anymore. She might have known everything about him once upon a time, but now it feels like talking to a stranger, and it breaks her heart not being able to pass that invisible wall between them.

Maya stares at him one last time as they are interrupted by the rest of the party. He’s dragged to a mindless conversation with Neil and Ted Fak, while Michelle brings Maya a drink and settles with her on the couch to catch up.

Carmy manages to escape the Faks and asks for some help from his siblings that were hiding outside.

Michael does another quick round before disappearing again somewhere with Richie.

“I thought you weren’t serious about bringing her.” Richie takes him to the garage where they open a couple of beers.

“I was dead serious. And please, don’t say anything. Tonight, we’re just friends, alright?” he gives him a menacing look.

“You’re dead for sure when Carmy finds out. Don’t get me wrong I love Maya, but is she all that? Is she worth the trouble, Cousin?”

“She’s all that and a basket of biscuits.”

Soon, Michael thinks. Soon everyone will know how much he loves her but for now, this is for the best. This is what she wants and he respects that.

When they go back into the house, Michael goes checking if she needs a break from socializing. Figures, she probably does as much as he does. She's not in the living room anymore, or anywhere on the first floor. He climbs upstairs and from the cracked door to his room, he finds her snooping around the bedroom with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Hey. What are you doing up here?”

“The bathroom downstairs was occupied, so I came up here, and I realized I never really saw your room. Was it always like this?”

“Kinda. It’s cleaner for starters. The walls used to be covered in Red Sox merchandise and movie posters. It’s all in the basement at The Beef now.”

“Traitor,” Maya mockingly squints her eyes before taking a sip of her glass.

“Why do you care, you don’t even watch baseball?”

“Yeah, but if I had to pick I wouldn’t even dream of going against my own home team,” she says, scanning a pile of CD’s on the corner of the desk and picking one from the middle. “Marky Mark, really? Who are you?”

“That’s Sugar’s.”

“Sure it is,” she laughs.

“This is why you came up here, to make fun of me?”

“Nope, I just like snooping.” She turns around and keeps flicking through those albums while Michael shuts the door to seize that as an opportunity to kiss her again.

“Hey, c’mere.” Quickly wetting his lips, he cups her face as it turns to the side and gently captures the flavor of her mouth soaked in white wine.

“Hmm, we’re a lost cause,” she says as his lips bounce a few times against her.

“I know.” Michael hums, unable to stop himself from going deeper into her mouth.

As she places her glass on the desk, his tongue swipes past her lips.

Michael moves his hands to her hips, as Maya links her arms around his neck, letting her tongue slowly play with his.

His mouth grows hungrier and desperate for more. She can feel it at the eager tip of his tongue demanding more action. He blindly guides Maya to the bed, and almost without breaking from the other, as she settles on her back, he pushes all the coats people left on his bed to the side. Michael lies on top of her, nestling between her legs, claiming ferociously another kiss from her mouth.

From zero to sixty, his hand slips beneath the hem of her dress and hikes the skirt up to her waist to grab her ass. He digs his fingers on her skin over her tights. He could rip the fabric apart in a second if he pressed a little harder.

Maya hums in his mouth, struggling to keep up with the burning passion he's pouring into her lips as the coarse texture of his beard scratches her face.

The setting is a little off-putting for her right now no matter how much she wants him and as his bulge hardens between her legs, she promptly puts a halt on.

“Michael, baby, shh. We can’t do this here.”

“We’re just making out. The door is closed.”

“We’re not just making out. You’re already hard. What if someone comes in?”

“There’s a lock on the door. I closed it.”

“The lock is not the problem. It's this place. This house.”

“The house is cock-blocking you?”

“Pretty much. Yeah. Let’s just take a breath and go back down. We’ll finish this later at home. See, this is why we can’t be left alone.”

“Okay,” he begrudgingly rolls to the side with a sigh, feeling a little disappointed to be honest and stares at the ceiling. “Is it the house or is it Carmy being here?”

“I don't know. Maybe both.” She leans on her elbow to look at him.

“I see.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to. I do. More than you know, Bear. I just feel weird about doing this right here. We said the other day that we should be honest with each other to make this work. And this is me being honest.”

“I know, baby. I get it. I just… All I wanna do is be with you right now. Can't stop thinking about you. That’s why this happens…” he gestures vaguely as his crotch.

“Now, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to give you blue balls. I know how much that hurts.”

“I don’t think you do,” he snorts.

“I’m sorry,” her palm covers her smile. “I really am. But I… I guess I could do something about it. Don’t move.”

Maya’s fingers glide over his crotch to undo his fly.

“Wait, are you changing your mind?”

“No, but I don’t wanna leave you like that either. Just trust me.” She shifts on the bed as her hand slides under the fabric to feel the pressure of his straining erection.

Biting her lip, she locks eyes with him as her fist curls around his shaft as Michael’s hand wraps around hers.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I wanna. Just because I can’t, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. Let me do this for you. Please.”

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” he sighs, letting her hand move up and down his hardness.

“I know. Just relax for me. I'll make it quick.”

Maya leans closer to his face to lock her lips with his. His low grunts echo in her mouth while her fist prompts him to spill his early drops of arousal. They help her pump more swiftly. He has to bury his sounds deep in his throat when she parts from his mouth and moves her head down his torso so he can finish him with a blow.

“Fuck, Maybird,” he moans as her lips wrap tightly around his swollen gland. Her hand keeps a nice pressure at the base as her head bobs quickly to have him climaxing all over her tongue.

She cleans him up, licks her lips and makes sure nothing was spilled on their clothes before taking a long swig of the glass of wine on the desk to get rid of the aftertaste of his cum.

“God, sweetheart, that was…” he stands up and pulls his clothes together while she finishes her drink. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You better.” She collects a pocket mirror from her purse to check her makeup. As she moves Michael's jacket out of the way, something falls from its pocket — a round pill container lands at her feet.

She means to bend down and pick up, but she freezes. It's Michael the one to reach and grab it. Maya stiffens, stares at him as he quickly tucks in his pocket. Unable to process any thought at all, she pins that in her head to revise later. As she intended to do, she fixes her hair and makeup.

Michael should have left those at home. He didn’t even mean to grab them. It was just exactly that– a habit he can’t break yet. Especially on a night like this.

“Hey,” he says softly, holding her chin under his finger and tilts her head up so he can capture her eyes. “We'll talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay.”

She checks her face in the mirror a second time to make sure there’s no visual signs of her just going down on Michael before leaving the room.

Their hands are still linked together when they step into the hallway, and it isn't until they spot Natalie coming from another room that they quickly pull them apart.

So much for being sneaky… There's no way she didn't see that. The shock flashing across her face is telling.

“Michael, can I talk to you?”

“We should go downstairs before… Carmy can't handle all those people.”

“This won't take a minute,” she says firmly.

He glances at Maya, and they nod at the other.

As Maya returns to the party, Sugar can't help but question Michael about it.

“I don't know what you saw, but it's not what you think, Sug.”

“You came out of your room holding hands. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Are you dating her?”

“Would you have a problem with that?”

“I don't know… It's just… She's Maya. She practically grew up here. In this house. She and Carmy were… you haven't told him, have you?”

“Nobody knows yet. Well, just Richie. But it hasn't been going on for long, and we just thought it'd be best to wait.”

“And you brought her here tonight?”

“I didn't want her to spend the night alone. Do you think it's weird, me and her?”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I… I guess it's a little unexpected. It just caught me off guard. If you had given me a warning…”

“You wouldn't be so shocked. I'm sorry. I wanna tell everyone, but it's all so new, and she's…”

“Maya.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, it's an adjustment, but if you're happy with her, then I'm happy, Bear. Does she make you happy?”

“She does,” he smiles bashfully.

When Michael and Natalie join the rest, Cicero and his wife arrive. Uncle Lee follows.

The delicious smell of food cooking fills every nook with the house and Maya's stomach rumbles under layers of wine. She desperately needs to soak all that alcohol before it's too late.

She goes into the kitchen to find Michael casually leaning on the counter bantering with his mother as she works against the clock, cooking those seven fishes that’s the staple dish of her house.

“You doing good?” He gives Maya a look as she props her hands on the breakfast bar.

“Hm-hm.”

“You hungry too?” He guesses and Maya only nods at his question as Donna points at the meatball casserole on the counter.

“Here,” Michael grabs one meatball from the casserole, dabs the sauce on the edge so it drips as he lifts it up to her mouth. His eyes light up as she carefully bites half of it directly from his fingers. Then he shoves the other half into his mouth. Smiling at the other, both thinking about what they did earlier as they fight the urge of eating each other's mouths again.

A beat after, Maya looks to the side to see Carmy standing by the door as Donna barks something at him. She swallows, watching people come and go out of the kitchen. The timer goes off as voices get louder all around. Maya helps herself to another drink in the middle of the whirlwind of chaos of the heart of the house while Carmy takes him upon himself to organize the mess of the kitchen against Donna's wishes.

“Ma, why don't you let him help you? It's all he fucking does.” Michael picks up another meatball and offers it again to Maya, but she declines this time.

“What was that?” Carmy glances annoyed at Michael. “Like uh, that was a shot or…”

“Wasn’t a fucking shot.”

“Mikey, he’s helping me. Back off.”

“Yeah, that was a shot.” Carmen states more sternly this time. “I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? You-you, uh… You start 100 different businesses and have zero follow-through.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Maya rolls her eyes, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Yeah, what are you doing here? Thought you had a husband.”

“Wow. Leave her out of this, Carm. She’s here cause I asked her to.”

“It’s fine, Michael. Let Annie Oakley take her shots at me.”

“Okay, this is why I didn't wanna come home. This is why.”

“Fuck you!” Donna shouts.

“What the fuck? Why the fuck would you say that?” Michael raises his voice. “It's fuckin' Christmas. Why would you say something like that?”

“Whatever, okay? Whatever.”

“Maya, sweetie, can you bring some ice from the freezer in the garage?” Asks Donna in the middle of the argument, and she just silently agrees.

All their voices ebb as Maya disappears into the hallway that leads to the garage to grab some ice and pull herself together. She stays there for longer than she should, collecting her thoughts and checking her phone for all her friends and co-workers messages and sending some of her own. Her eyes pull away from the screen when the door swings open.

She tucks her phone in her pocket as Carmy climbs down the two steps into the room.

“What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing some ice.” She glances at the freezer where her ass is propped.

“No. I mean, why did you come here at all?”

She shrugs, folding her arms against her stomach.

“Michael invited me.”

“It’s pretty fucking weird, don’t you think?”

“Why? I used to come here all the time when we were kids. Hell, the first time I got drunk was right in this garage with you.”

“Yeah, that’s my point. You and I aren’t friends anymore, Maya. It doesn’t make sense that you’d come anymore.”

“You've made that clear but hey, you’re the one who stopped talking to me in the first place.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. I’m not psychic, Carmen.”

“Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“No? It matters to me.”

“Guess I got tired of waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? You’re completely delusional, you know that?”

“Am I? I thought you were different, but you’re just…”

“Just what? Are you going to call me a slut or something? You better watch your mouth.”

“No. You’re… reckless.”

“I'm reckless? For what? Living my life? Growing up? Marrying another guy?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather be reckless than be anything like you, Carmen. You think you're better than me, than anyone in here, but you're not. You're conceited. You've always looked at everyone down from your ivory tower like you've never made a mistake in your life. You said you were waiting for me? You had many opportunities to say what you felt, and you never did, why is that? Because you’re a fuckin’ coward. I’ve watched string along girls you weren’t into for longer than you should have. Anytime anyone has shown you an ounce of love, you’ve run the other way. You've shut down me and everyone out cause you don’t know how to love anyone but your self-righteous, narcissistic ass.”

“That’s rich coming for someone who’s fucking my brother.” His voice comes out deeply loud as Maya swallows. “You think I’m dumb? It’s written all over your face.”

Her posture stiffens all of a sudden. She opens her mouth to contradict his words, but she can't. It's pointless. He's chosen to attack, and she's going to stand and take blow after blow without throwing some of her own.

“You had your chance, Carmen, and you never took it. And the worst part is that you expected me to do something about it, but it really wasn’t up to me. I’m sorry I never felt anything for you… but I don’t think you ever loved me like you wanted either. You only thought you did cause I was there all the time. It was easy, right? We were friends. Best friends. And you ruined that.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, we can agree on that.”

“It’s fucked-up, y’know?”

“What is?”

“You and my brother.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” She pegs him with a harsh twisted brow. “You. Coming here judging everyone and pretending you know anything about me or him. Say, when was the last time you said I love you just cause you wanted to and not because someone said it first? When was the last time you were in a relationship that lasted more than two dates? When was the last time you woke up next to someone and the thought of leaving them ripped your heart apart? I'd rather take risks and be called reckless than feel nothing, do nothing, say nothing at all, and turn into a bitter asshole like you.”

Maya walks past him and heads out the door without giving him the opportunity to respond.

As tears threaten to come out, she stops in her tracks and draws a fortifying breath to keep herself from falling apart. Though she knew sooner or later she’d have to deal with Carmy, that conversation was truly more difficult to deal with than she expected. She couldn't handle that better if he wasn't acting like an asshole.

Disheartened… Maya feels just at home. It really is no different from being with her own family. Next year, she swears she's going to take a trip or just stay at home with Coco, which sounds like something she should've done today. Coming here tonight was a mistake. If she could turn back time to earlier in the day and convince herself to stay at home she would.

In the never-ending night of riffs, she overhears Donna yelling at Natalie in the kitchen as she crosses the hallway. In the living room, Michael has everyone's attention while telling one of his stories. Every one seems entertained except for Uncle Lee that has to poke the bear as usual.

It feels like an eternity until dinner is finally served it doesn't get better once everyone is sitting at the table. No. Because, of course, there can't be a moment of peace, everything escalates from that point.

Maya’s taking a swallow of her glass when Lee starts telling the story about the seven fishes and the Dutch oven when Michael makes a buzzing sound and throws a fork at him. It hits his shoulder.

“Wrong answer.”

“Did you just throw a fork at me?” Lee's high-pitched tone breaks.

“I did,” Michael snorts.

They both start bitching back and forth. The tension strains harder after every word, every sentence interrupted, every thought unfinished.

She places her glass down as the animated conversation grows more heated by the second. The voices get louder. There's a countdown hovering over the table showing how many seconds are left for the bomb to go off. Maya hears the ticking in her head, or maybe that's just the sound of her own heart racing.

In the heat of the moment, Michael borrows a second fork from Fak and repeats the same action. This time he misses Lee's head by an inch.

Everyone tries to put off the fire before it rises, but Michael is too far gone into his own head, nobody can talk sense into him.

“Cousin, you're scaring the normals.” Richie nervously laughs.

“This is fine. It's nothing.”

“Mikey, can you hear me, buddy?”

“Not now, Stevie.”

“Cut it out.”

“Hey, look, here's the thing.” He leans back on his chair ignoring everyone. “You see, I can throw forks cause this is our father's house. My father's house.”

“Okay you have everyone's attention so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.”

“That's good Lee.” He laughs manically while Lee goes on a rant about him living off his mom and borrowing money from everyone.

“… I don't know what the fuck you're on, but if you can hear me through the fog, throw another fork at me, you're gonna get fuckin’ rocked!”

There's a long moment of silence. Michael scratches his beard and gazes to his side, where Maya is sitting trying to process the whole thing happening before her eyes.

“Hey, Maybird.” He says softly, and waits until she looks at him. “I just… You think I could just borrow that for one second…” he points at her fork.

“Michael don't,” she tries to say, but the rest of the table speaks louder over her voice.

“It's okay, baby.” It slips out as he picks up her fork. “This is fine. I’m fine.”

“Michael. Please don't do this!” It's Natalie's words that stand out over the others. “Hey!” She calls his attention and when Michael glances at the opposite side of the table and Sugar lowers her voice. “I love you. Okay?”

“I love you, too, Sug.”

“I'm begging you. Don't do it.”

He vaguely nods. But he's dead set on making everyone shift in their chairs as the ridiculous dispute picks up again.

The flames touch the ceiling, and there's nothing she can do to smother the fire.

Maya nudges his thigh under the table with her knee, and says his name softly, hoping it'd be enough to calm him down. But it's too late, he's already so riled up that not even her can't stop him from rising from his chair, fork in hand taunting Lee non-stop.

Petrified, she stares at the man she loves, the one who looked like a dreamboat when she woke up next to him this morning, turning into something completely different. The cracks of his mask can't hold any longer. Behind it, it all slips out. His haunted expression taking over the rough edges of his face, the sorrow in his eyes, and his tired voice, makes her heart hurt.

“Bear.” She resorts to a term of endearment, but there is no use. He's on a different plane now, guided by his addiction.

Her eyes well up as Lee keeps repeating that he’s nothing. She can see his gears spinning in a different direction and for a moment everyone stays still watching everything unfold until Donna comes into the room.

That only puts a temporary patch on the wound. It's only a matter of time before someone takes it away to let blood spill all over the table. Michael sits back down, pushing his hair back before clutching the fork again in his fist as Donna lights up a cigarette and takes a seat.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing.”

“I missed something.”

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie's about to say grace, Ma.”

“Ooh, good, yes.”

“Go ahead and take it away there, Stevie.”

“I uh… I don't think…”

“Just say the fucking thing, Stevie.”

The tension eases up for those couple of minutes while Steve improvises grace. It all seems perfect for a moment, they all nod and smile a Steve’s kind words, but that countdown is still ticking down every last fucking second.

Everything afterward is a tableau of surreal events tangled together that would play in Maya’s head for years to come… Donna’s meltdown, Michael throwing the last fork, flipping the table and taking a more physical approach against uncle Lee, Donna losing her hinges and crashing the car into the house, the police attending the disturbance…

Out of all the memorable dinners she's had in this house, this one really takes the cake.

It's the shitshow of a lifetime that nobody will ever forget.

Chapter 10: Basket of biscuits

It’s past the witching hour when all the voices, all the noise, all the sirens, and rumblings of his own thoughts quiet down in his head when he closes the door as he settles on the driver's seat. And at once, the only voice he wanted to hear the most echoes in his head with one simple word — his name. The fear in her tone haunts him. He probably scared the shit out of her after what went down. Staring at the ruins of the front of his childhood home, Michael turns on the engine and takes a final look before steering Maya’s car out of that place.

Maya left earlier, after the police took everyone’s statement. Though she wasn’t as drunk as he was, he begged her to take a cab back home. While Donna refused to leave the house, everyone eventually left as well. Michael stayed all the way through while they boarded up the hole in the wall as a temporary measure.

Sobering down, the road gets clearer the closer he gets to Maya. He can't stand the thought of her being witness to his frantic meltdown. All he can see now, clear as day, the utter disbelief and fright in her eyes when she was pleading him to stop. He should have listened. He should have held himself better in that situation. Drugs or not, there's nothing or no one to blame but himself. That was… Embarrassing. Even for him. He swore he'd never sink that low, that he'd never let anyone see that part of him. It was bound to happen. He lost control and everyone saw. And if he wasn't for Donna interrupting his act, he's not sure how far he'd have gone.

For a split moment, he blames it on something else taking over his actions, like being possessed by one of his demons. But it doesn't last long. He can’t continue denying the fact that he’s the only one responsible for his actions. Claiming otherwise would only delay the inevitable.

They say all roads lead to Rome, and if keeps driving in the same direction, he’d surely find the only possible outcome to this. It’s time to veer off the path and find that there’s more world to see besides Rome.

He has to find a new way, and she is the only thing that could save him from this right now. However, after tonight, it wouldn't surprise him if she was already thinking about kicking him to the curve. He would blame her.

Christmas lights and empty streets quickly take him to her house. He can even imagine what’s going through her head right now… but it’s time to find out.

He parks on the driveway and takes measured steps toward the front door as the weight of the world perches on his shoulders. He feels like shit and the biggest asshole in the world for breaking his promise.

The glow of the TV and tree lights shine faintly behind the curtains when he knocks on the door. He should have called before, he realizes on that spot. Or even just text her to say he was coming so she would know what to expect. But there’s not going back now.

She takes her time to open the door and when she does, he’s met with the reflection of all his fears coming true. It flashes across her face the disappointment and disgust and utter terror of what happened at the table.

“I brought your car.” He reaches out to hand her the keys.

Hesitantly, she collects them, and makes room for him to enter before closing the door behind him.

“I… You shouldn't be driving.”

“It's fine. Sobered out pretty soon after… Where's Coco?”

“Upstairs. Hoarding the bed.” Maya puts the keys on the console table as they stand by the staircase railing. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, Carm and Sug stayed with her at the house for the night. Everyone else left. ”

“She wouldn't leave?”

“No, she locked herself in her room.”

“That's crazy.”

“Yeah, another Christmas at The Berzattos. Hey, but at least none of us got locked up.”

“That's not funny, Michael.”

“It wasn't meant to be funny.”

“I think you should go… You should've stayed with them.”

“I wanted to check on you.”

“I'm fine.” Her tone says otherwise.

“Are you?”

“I was about to go to sleep.” She’s already slipped into her pj’s and was just watching TV cause she couldn’t fall asleep.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“What do you want me to say? Of course, I'm not okay. You lied to me.”

“What… When did I lie to you?”

She fights the urge of rolling her eyes and instead, crosses her arms against her midsection to keep herself together.

“You said you weren't using when you were with me, but tonight you did. Instead of coming to me and saying — hey I'm dealing with this and that, you straight up hid it, and then you just… went off. I thought we were being honest with each other.”

He hangs his head down as she tiredly leans her back against the wall.

“I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Michael.”

“There's nothing you could've done.”

“Maybe not but you didn't even give me the chance to. I'm really concerned about you and after tonight… I don't know… I'm out of my depth here. I knew it was bad, but it's worse than I thought… If you're not seeing that, if you're not willing to admit that… Then maybe we should take a step back and consider our options before going further.”

“Consider our options? You're getting cold feet now?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just…” she sighs in exhaustion. “You should go. It's been a long night. And I'm not in the mood for this.”

“If you're gonna break up with me, just say it. Don't wait till tomorrow.” Though it’d be the right decision for her to do, he can’t stand the thought of not being with her now that he’s seen what it is to have her in her life. It would rip his soul and heart apart to hear her say those words.

“I don't wanna break up with you, but I can see that you're going through something right now, and I think it’d be best to talk about this tomorrow or the day after with clear heads.”

“Okay, okay…” he says under a heavy breath, as he shortens the distance between them.

Michael cups her jaw, and places his lips gently on her forehead.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He tries to not sound desperate but it fails so badly.

“Michael…” He grabs his wrist and takes a step back to detach herself from his hold.

“Please, Maybird, I don't wanna go. I… I can’t be alone right now. I’d… I don’t know what I’d do…” There’s something brewing inside him and if tonight wasn’t bad enough, not being able to be with her would send him down to that hole of despair he’s dug himself.

“You're scaring me, Michael.”

“Fuck, I know… I know I’m an asshole. I just…” He frantically runs a palm over his beard as he keeps pleading. “I need you. Don’t make me leave. I'm begging you.”

Those words put her between the sword and the wall. As much as he loves him, as much as she’d want him to stay, she’s still shaken and would rather be alone right now. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to him because she sent him away.

Before she has the chance to reply, while she gathers her thoughts he dramatically drops to his knees on the verge of tears.

“Please. I’d do anything for you, but don’t ask me to go.”

“Michael…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he grabs her waist, pulls her close, and links his arms around her hips, planting his full face on her abdomen. He swallows his sobs in his relentless ramble. “Please, baby, I need you… I’m sorry I lied to you… I’m so sorry that I'm scaring you… I swear I’d never hurt you…”

Her eyes brim with tears and unable to pull away she just holds his head protectively in her hands, threading her fingers in her hair to calm him down.

“You’re everything to me, Maybird. I know I’m a pathetic loser and that I don’t deserve you, but I’m fucking ready… just tell me what to do… I don’t know how to fix this… please just… let me stay…”

“Shh, it’s okay, Bear.” She’s so overcome by the love she has for him, she doesn’t have the strength to kick him out. So, she just gives up to his implore. “We’ll figure it out.”

Michael’s breaking point came like the most unexpected Christmas gift he didn't ask for. He can't return it or exchange it for something else. It's only up to him to either throw it away and pretend it didn't happen or use that as the catalyst to his recovery. They say that sometimes you have to break down to break through. And he went down so many levels, that there’s only one option but to go up from there. No because he feels like he has to, but he'd do anything to stay with Maya, and he knows the only way to do it is to climb out of the dirt.

After falling asleep in Maya’s arms, he wakes up in her bed alone the next morning. The clock says it is 10am when he looks up to her night stand and from the feet of the bed is only Coco, keeping a close watch of him. Her tail starts wagging when he gazes at her and extends his hand to scratch her head.

“Hey, Coco girl.” His voice rasps as she climbs up closer to lick his face relentlessly, slobbering all over his beard. “Okay, okay, that's enough, sweetheart.”

He holds her close and scratches her neck to calm her down, as Maya’s measured footfalls make the stairs creak when she climbs up. He looks to the door and watches her as she enters the room. She's fully dressed and by the amount of layers she's clad in, it looks like she's been outside.

“Morning.” She smiles softly as she proceeds to take off her hat and scarf.

“Morning.” He props himself on his elbow while Coco jumps suddenly out of the bed and circles around Maya’s legs before leaving the room at once. “Went out?”

“Yeah, just went for a drive and grabbed some breakfast. You two looked so cozy together, I thought I should let you sleep a bit longer. You're not opening today, right?”

“No. C’mere, sweetheart.” He finds her hand and gently tugs on it so she would sit down next to him. “I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have come here like that. I thought I was…”

“Sh, it's okay. You already apologized, hon.”

“No. That wasn't me. That was fucking embarrassing.”

“Is this you now?” She tenderly moves his straightened hair away from his forehead and combs it softly.

“Think so.”

“You look better.” Her fingers keep gently peppering him with caresses all over his head and neck.

“I feel like shit.” He gets a hold of her hand and kisses her knuckles. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No. I can’t really stay mad at you for long. You know that. And the good thing about all this is that since last night, I haven't really thought about being ditched for Christmas by my family.”

“Fuck, I'm such an asshole… I had all these plans with you after dinner… and I totally ruined everything. We didn't even get to open our presents.”

“It's okay. I promise. We'll try again next year. Maybe just the two of us.”

“You still think we'll be together next year?”

“I have no idea. But I'm hoping so… I want to.”

“God, you’re a fucking angel.”

“I’m not,” she laughs softly.

“Yeah, heaven-sent. You took care of me last night when you had your own thing going on. Not many people would’ve done that.”

Maya leans in and kisses his temple before wrapping her arms around his neck. She bathes him with love cause she’s not sure what else to do than to show him that she needs him just as much.

“How about we get some food in you?” She smooches his head and as she attempts to stand up, he curls his arms around her, pulling her down with him.

“Not yet, baby. Let's stay here for a minute. I'm not hungry.”

She relaxes in his hold and cuddles with him until his phone goes off.

“It's Sugar.” Maya sees on the screen. “Are you gonna pick it up?”

He vacillates, but he ends up taking the call while Maya dislodges herself from his embrace. She collects a tray and some food from the kitchen while Natalie tells Michael that they finally got their mother out of the house. She'll be at Nat's for a few days until they fix the front of the house.

“Yeah… I'll take care of it. See you later.” Maya overhears as she returns to the bedroom with his breakfast.

“Everything alright?” She sits down on the mattress, placing the tray in the middle.

“Yeah. She asked me to go talk to uncle Jimmy's friend. You know, the contractor? He said he could get it done fast.”

“That's good, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What's wrong?”

“I don't know… I just… how can I look at these people in the face after what I did.”

“Because you're Michael fucking Berzatto. And you don't take shit from no one.” She tries cheering him up. “Uncle Lee was an asshole. Nobody cares that you threw a couple of forks at him. They're worried about you. And I don't think anyone remembers what you did. Donna upstaged the two of you, I'm afraid.”

“How do you manage to put a positive spin on everything?”

“Someone has to.”

As much as he loves hearing her talk like that is time for a reality check. Besides Maya being the brightest light in his life from the past few months, the rest have been hell. The restaurant has been struggling for way longer than he’d like to admit and has become the biggest failure of his life. His dependency has only been exacerbated by the pressure he’s put on himself to try to fix all by himself. All the lies, the high expectations, and the way his family look up to him for answers and comfort have become a lead weight on him.

The Beef was an inherited mess that was passed down to him when his father died. He took it upon himself to carry the family business to keep the family afloat, especially since Carmen and Natalie were merely teens, and there was nobody else but him to provide for all of them. He always thought he’d had his own restaurant and part of that pipe dream was bringing Carmy along. That dream faded as soon as he got hit with the hard cold truth that managing a restaurant, even a sandwich shop wasn’t as easy as his father made it look. But to be fair the late Berzatto didn’t have the best system either. It was all back door deals and handshakes and fucking agreements with this guy and this other guy. It made him wonder if the old trio had some shady business going on. Even Maya’s uncle was involved at some point, he recalls seeing his name a couple of times in one of the accounting books.

To sum it all up, he was set up with a business that was already failing before got it. His optimism and passion could only keep him trying for so long. The last couple of years have been hell, and at this point he’s not sure if he wants to run it anymore. He’s toyed with the idea of burning it to the ground and starting over, or just selling it and walking away. But there are a lot of factors in play that are stopping him from doing that. Like disappointing his family or the people who work for him. And let's not forget the big question of what Michael would do if he didn’t have The Beef.

With a heavy heart he finally pours everything out to Maya. If someone can understand, it’s her. She knew when her life needed a turn and took it. He’s at the same crossroads right now, but unlike her, he doesn’t feel brave enough to do what needs to be done.

Maya draws a breath, absorbing every single thing Michael has laid out. It’s a lot to process, but her mind is already spinning ideas and questions that could potentially help him.

“You could sell and start over. The Beef is not your failure. It wasn’t even your dream to begin with. And I don’t think anyone will hold it against you if you give it away.”

“I guess I’m not ready to give up, you know? I don’t know what I’d do if I walked away now.” He shifts in the bed, laying on his side, placing his head on her lap while she plays with his hair.

“What about the restaurant you wanted to open with Carmy? It was all you talked about once upon a time. ”

“I can't bring him into this. He's better off without me.”

“He's not. Your brother is fucking miserable.”

“How do you know that? Did he tell you that?”

“No… but we shared some words last night, I don't want to get into the whole thing right now, but I could tell that he's not happy either.”

“Last night… He gave me this thing. It was a sketch he did about that restaurant… I just don't know how to make you both understand that I have no idea how to make it true. He's worked so hard to be where he is now…. I won’t be the one to keep it away from all that.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you could learn something from him and that teaming up would solve all your problems?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t want to take that chance. I won’t ruin his career. He’s where he’s supposed to be.”

“You know, you’ve talked a lot about not wanting to let everyone down and keeping everyone happy. But when are you gonna start taking care of yourself, Bear? All those people you’re caring for, they’re pretty much grown up. They don’t need you to keep holding their hand. Not Natalie, nor Carmy, nor your mother. And don’t get me wrong, the way you care for them is part of the reason I care for you… but at some point you’re going to have to care for yourself too. Cause I can’t keep an eye on you 24/7.”

“Did you go to shrink school or something?” He scoffs, glancing up at her eyes from his comfortable spot.

“No, I wish! It’s hard to put yourself above anyone else… I get it. But you’re going to have to, Michael. If you don’t, it’ll eventually catch up with you. The pressure, the pills, the need to please everyone…”

“What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not. I promise it’s not. I know it seems that way, but you, asking the right questions… That tells me it’s not too late. And the thing is that you don't have to decide anything right now. But hypothetically speaking, if you didn't have The Beef to take care of, and could do anything in the world, what would you do?”

“Well, If I could do anything, I'd stay in this bed, day, and night with you for a year.”

“Okay, let's say you've done that now. You wake up, get out of bed and where do you go?”

“I've always….” he pauses as the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“What? Tell me.” Her hand fists his hair without pulling.

“I've always wanted to buy a bike and drive across every state.”

“I could see you doing that.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Stop doing that. It's not an unattainable dream, Bear. You can do whatever you want.”

“Would you come with me if I asked you?”

“Hm, I don’t know… I’m not a huge fan of bikes. But I guess if I could follow along with my car and bring Coco with us, I’d go.”

“How about next summer?”

“Bring it on.”

“You know I’m joking, right?” He scoffs.

“I’m not. If you really wanna do that. Do it. What’s that thing you always say… Let one rip?”

“Let it rip,” he snorts and shakes his head, utterly amused by her way of messing up his motto.

“So, let it rip!”

“How? How do you walk away from everything?”

“You put one foot in front of the other and repeat.”

“Well, thank you for just describing walking, baby.”

“I’m serious, Michael. You take enough small steps and one day you’ll look back and won’t be able to see what you left behind.”

She holds his face firmly and dips to leave a small peck on his lips, then plants her forehead on top of his.

“I’d go anywhere with you. Would you?”

“Yeah, always.”

Michael’s palm slides along her jaw as his lips capture her mouth one more time. In this room, on this bed, he feels more safe and loved than ever before.

In the evening, Maya takes Michael to meet the contractor who comes into the house to survey the damage. After that, they swing by Natalie’s to check how Donna is doing.

Maya stays in the car. Her choice. She’s not ready to have another Berzatto reunion so soon.

She’s listening to the radio when all of a sudden a tap on the glass startles her. She glances to the side and finds Carmy motioning with his hand to roll down the window.

Sighting, she turns off the radio, as the glass slides down.

“Hey, can we talk?” His breath manifests in the air.

“I'm not in the mood for you to keep jabbing at me.”

“I wasn’t going to… I just…” he props his forearm on the roof of the car. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. You were right about… well, about almost everything. I have no right to tell you how to live your life and shouldn’t have talked to you that way. I still think it’s pretty weird that you’re dating my brother… but I guess I’ll have to get over it.”

Maya swallows, staring at her hands curling around the steering wheel. It feels forced to hear him say that so soon, but not completely dishonest. He’s making an effort, and she appreciates that.

“Thank you for saying that. I’m sorry that you had to find that way and that I called you a self-serving asshole that doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I know you cared about me… I just…”

“Hey, I get it. We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know… I couldn’t sleep last night and Sugar and I started talking, we were up for hours… I guess she knocked some sense into me.”

“Do you think we could ever be friends again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could we pretend that we are just for five minutes? I need to ask you something.”

“I… I suppose we could. Can I get in? It's freezing out here.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Carmy goes around the car and hops into the passenger seat as Maya closes the window.

“What is it?”

“How's Copenhagen? Are you liking it there? Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”

“It's one of the best jobs I've ever had.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“I… I don't know what you want me to say… I guess I always thought I'd end up here with Michael… But I don't think he even wants me here anymore. Why are you asking me this?”

“God, he's going to kill me for telling you this… But hypothetically, what if he was in trouble and was too prideful to ask for help? What if he wanted to build that restaurant you dreamed of but wouldn't want you to give up your career for him? What if he was thinking of selling the shop but was too afraid of disappointing all of you?”

“Fuck, that's a lot of what ifs, Maya. Is that all true?”

“I can't tell you that, but if that were all true would you consider coming back?”

“You know better than anybody that all I wanted to do is work with him. If he asked, I'd be here in a second. But he's not going to ask, is he?”

“I don't think he's ready yet. I'm trying to help him as best as I can, but I feel like I'm not enough.”

“What do you think I could do if he doesn't want anyone's help… ”

“I don't know… he's too stubborn to ask for help. I'm just running out of ideas here… and he's looking at me like I have all the answers…”

“You think if I came back that'll change?”

“Maybe not, but if there's just a small chance that you were considering doing what you always wanted to do… if he saw that you weren't going anywhere, perhaps it’d point him in the right direction.”

“It takes guts to ask for help like that. And I'm not talking about him. I know you wouldn't be asking if it wasn't serious.”

“Yeah, like I said, if he knew I was telling you this…”

“I won't tell, if you don't.” He smiles softly.

“Thank you.”

“I'll think about it though.”

“Yeah? I'll keep trying too.”

As Carmy leaves the car, Michael comes out of the front door. They meet in the middle and Maya watches them quickly sharing some words before saying goodbye.

“Everything good here?” Asks Michael once he's taken his seat and closes the door.

“Yeah, we were just straightening some things up. I didn't want to tell you earlier, but we had an argument last night. It's all good now…” and she feels like an asshole for going behind his back, but if Michael is too proud or ashamed to ask for help, someone has to. She'd love to have all the answers laid out for him, but she has no idea what she's doing half of the time.

“He knows about us, does he?”

“Yeah, we weren't as careful as we wanted. Even Sugar saw. I mean… you even called me baby at the table. Don’t think anyone really noticed but… I guess it’s out now.”

“Does it freak you out that they know?”

“No. It was never about that. I just wanted to keep it just between us for a little longer.”

As they drive back home they toy with the idea of recreating the Christmas dinner they never go to have the previous night. They make a quick stop at a couple of places to gather some ingredients and scramble something together.

Michael has a lot of faults, but he's a natural in the kitchen. He feels right in his element when he's crafting a meal, especially when it’s for her. There’s no pressure laying on the counter, no bills to worry about, but the need to impress her makes him rise to the occasion.

After dinner, they exchange those gifts they put under the tree in her living room a couple of days ago. There’s a gift basket for Coco with toys, her favorite snacks, a blanket, and bathing products. While the dog is distracted with a chew on the rug, they sit on the couch to open theirs.

Maya’s gift to Michael is considerably bigger than what he got for her, which is a thin flat box as long as her palm.

“You want me to go first?” Asks Maya.

“Yeah, sure. Go on, baby.”

She’s kneeled by his side on the cushion, and he closely watches her hand unwrap the jewelry box that contains a dainty gold necklace with two twin pendants. Two small discs share an M etched on one side but are different on the back. One of them has the outline of a bear, and the other a dog paw.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, Mikey Bear.” Her free palm slides at his nape. “Thank you.”

“Thought you could wear this one,” he points at the one with the bear, “and I could take the other.”

“Yeah, that’d be perfect.” She inspects the pendants for a bit longer before sliding the one with the paw on it out the chain. “We’re kind of an institution now, like M&Ms.”

“Or Eminem.”

“For sure,” she laughs at the same time she clasps the chain around her neck. “Are you gonna open yours?”

Michael nods and extends his hand to open the big wrapped box waiting on the coffee table. In it there's a record player set with speakers and a couple of Otis Redding albums.

“You’re the best, you know that?” He holds his chin on top of his fist for a second, mesmerized by how much he adores her.

“Hm, I’ve been told.” She smugly slings her arm around his lower back as he inspects his new gift and starts setting all the components on. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Otis, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“Yeah, I dig it. Everyone loves the king of soul.”

Tucking her palm under the hem of his shirt, she kisses his shoulder, as he carefully slides one of the vinyls out of its sleeve before placing it on the platter.

“I haven’t used one of these in a while, let’s see if I remember…” he thinks for a beat, staring at the levels and buttons as he figures out how to set it up.

“You know, there are instructions on the box, right?” She playfully scratches his back.

“Don’t need instructions.”

“Typical male response,” she scoffs.

“Look, it’s done.” After settling the needle in position he hits the on button and stares at the record as it starts spinning. It rotates a couple of times before the first track comes out of the speakers.

Michael curls his arm around her, pulling her flush against his chest as they lean back on the couch. Maya drapes her legs on his lap, pillowing her head on his shoulder as the ever so beautiful melody of These Arms Of Mine plays on the speakers.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Maya tucks her hand in her jean's pocket to collect a keychain of a miniature motorcycle she got at the gas station earlier. “I also got you this when we stopped for gas. I didn't have time to get you a real bike in time but– what do you say, you wanna go on a road trip with me and Coco?”

“A Harley-Davidson? I don't think the three of us can fit here.” He dangles the keychain between his fingers. “But we'll see.”

Maya smiles against his shoulder as he kisses her head.

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” His voice changes to a softer tone.

“Uh-huh.”

He knows this is far from perfect and that he's probably going to screw everything up at some point, but whether it's perfect or not, right here, in her arms, everything is like it's supposed to be.

“I love you, Maybird.”

She tilts her chin up so he can capture the glint of eyes. She doesn't say it right away, it takes her a couple of beats to build up the courage to say back…

“I love you too, Bear.”

The End.

#jon bernthal #michael berzatto #michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #carmy berzatto #natalie berzatto #richie jerimovich #fanfiction #angst #smut #fluff #darlingwrites #salt of the earth

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sscieloz · 1 year ago

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Softcore

Kim Dahyun x member!reader

Synopsis: dahyun wanted you to reminisce the old times, so you snuck out to one of her friend’s gathering, but things get messy.

Warnings: drinking. angst. reader is recovering from an od episode. mentions of drugs. vomit. mentions of vomit. sensitive content. guilt, pain. tw: overd0se, recovery. everyone’s hurting. they’re trying to help and they’re stressed too.

Word count: 2.4k

Notes: only slightly proofread

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5 | Pt.6 | Pt.7

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” You told Dahyun, adjusting your jacket to suppress a shiver as you waited for the elevator. Your hands were clasped together, since she was too easy to lose in a crowd, and you clung onto the small girl tightly.

“Come on, y/n! You’ve been locked up in your room like some brunette Rapunzel for over a month now. It’s time you start living again, don’t you think?” She left the elevator without looking back, breathing in the penthouse’s atmosphere.

Dayhun had stormed into your room a few hours before, telling you to dress up for a reserved party the two of you were, apparently, attending. Naturally, you tried to argue your way out of it, but she had soon looked at you with those puppy eyes of hers, and you lost it, not having any other option other than doing as told. She meant no harm, you knew it was much; it was simply her way of trying to help you out. You just weren’t sure you were ready — yet.

Sensing your discomfort, Dahyun dropped her fast pace, making a turn to pay you full attention.

“I thought you liked parties. We enjoyed going together before… you know, the thing happened.” Her voice was full of hesitation, one you felt guilty of.

“It’s not that. It’s just…” You sighed, looking around. “Nevermind. Let’s go.”

Your sister shot you a bright smile as the two of you entered the lavish penthouse. The moment you were in, all the eyes were on you, watching your every move. You knew most of them meant no harm: they were all just colleagues, curious and worried to know how you were doing after such a messy incident. However, you’ve never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, much content with staying in the sides of the spotlight. This way, you could have the idol life you knew you were made for, but still maintain your privacy and reserved nature.

Of course, said privacy and respect—the ones you’ve worked so hard to earn— were worth nothing — now. You were back to being the prey, the media’s target and scared little lamb, deprived of confidence and courage to speak up about the things that made you uncomfortable.

Aware of that, you clung onto Dahyun even further, wishing you could simply hide behind her and disappear. It would all be so much easier for everybody, then. If you weren’t currently attending that stupid party, if you hadn’t fucked up your group’s reputation, if you hadn—

“Hello, unnie! How have you been?” Dahyun’s livid tone was quick to snap you out of your thoughts. She gave one of your arms, the one you were holding onto hers for dear life, a gentle squeeze, too, with her fingers tracing patters on your skin with such gentleness only herself could provide.

You don’t need to be wary, her touch said. I’m here with you.

Being the little sunshine she was, Dahyun was unable to go anywhere without greeting someone, chatting her thoughts away whilst you limited yourself to distributing a few small smiles and formal bows.

Suddenly, you found yourself caught in a bubble of people you knew too well. They all shared the same burdens and struggles as you did, trying to navigate the idol industry as best as they could. All the people in this big fucking penthouse were familiar to you and with you, somehow.

It left you with the urge to throw up.

“I will go find something to drink.” You told Dahyun, storming off to find the kitchen before her big, dark eyes were able to process your words properly. She intended to follow you, and she really meant it, but someone had just caught her arm and she got herself into such an interesting conversation—

She decided to check in on you immediately after the conversation is over, then. It’s settled.

Meanwhile, you opened the kitchen’s door abruptly, not opting to attend the bar because there were too many people there. Too many familiar people.

You still couldn’t deal with crowds. It was the reason you've been calling in sick in every fansign, airport dropout and outdoor dates ever since you’ve gotten off the hospital.

Not bothering to care about the staff who looked at you petrified, you merely bowed and hummed something incoherent as you made your way towards the balcony, filled with drinks. Thankfully, they got your favorite. Rum was nice, and the Coca-Cola would assure your body had the glucose it needed for you to not pass out, allowing you to not be sober and make this whole experience bearable without further issues.

The liquid tasted like heaven as it made its way down your throat. You hummed in pleasure— it had been months since you’ve been allowed anything besides juice and water. It tasted like secrecy, like sin. It was punishment.

For the first time in so long, you felt something apart from sorrow and guilt. As your nerves were gradually subsided, you poured yourself another cup.

You threw up on the bushes for the 4th time. It was your fault, you knew it as much. You were nervous, so you drank too much. It would’ve been too much even if you weren’t on your recovering program’s strict diet, anyway.

You cursed yourself, trying to get the long, vomited strands of hair out of your face with shaky fingers. You knew you weren’t done; you could feel the effect of the drinks on your fragile stomach, which still couldn’t quite hold anything long enough to provide the rest of your body the nutrients it needed to ensure you a healthy state.

Once again, you were dealing with the consequences of your impulsive choices.

Leaning the upper half of your torso once again, you discharged the bile onto the green leafs until nothing but your reflex’s sounds came out, followed up with salty tears.

You weren’t sure you could still this for much longer.

“Y/n?” You heard Nayeon’s faint voice from behind you, “Hey, girls. Found her!”

Soon, two pairs of small, strong hands were lifting you up and holding you against them. Their touch was so strong you could barely breathe— but, surprisingly, it didn’t feel suffocating.

If anything, it was comforting, nurturing. This touch felt safe, like love.

Your sobs were slowly subsiding, and you confirmed your hypothesis as soon as fresh mint invaded your nostrils. Jihyo’s shampoo was one of your favorite smells in the world.

“Shh, we found you, it’s ok.” She hummed, still not resuming her grip. “We’re here, darling. You’re all ok.”

You buried your head against the crook of her neck, sensing how the shadows of the others came into your peripheral vision through Jihyo’s dark hair. They circled you, providing a warm bubble as they waited for you to calm down.

Which, after numerous deep breaths, you did, unclasping yourself from Jihyo’s touch. You hated to feel the lack of her warmth, yet you knew you couldn’t hide yourself forever.

At least, not at the moment. You were exposed, raw and so deep in the imperfections you’ve worked so hard to hide from your bandmates and best friends. Your efforts were all in vain, once again shining through the cracks of your skin.

You tried speaking many times, always faltering when not a sound was heard. You desperately wanted to explain, to tell them how it felt to be exhausted, drained and confused about the mess that was going on inside of you.

Instead, you just threw up on the bushes once again.

“Come on, let’s go home.” Nayeon stated, handling you around like a doll as soon as you stopped throwing up.

“She’s clearly not good to go yet, Nayeon. Don’t push it.” Sana’s tone was sharp, and you looked up to find her staring angrily at the oldest member.

“Well, excuse me if I don’t want dispatch to show up and see Y/n like that. It’s like you don’t fucking think, Sana.” The member snapped back, crossing her arms at her friend.

As much as you wished, you couldn’t muster the energy to ask them to stop. After all, the last thing you wanted was for your sisters to argue because of you, or your stupidity. Before you even realize it, your teeth were knitted, and you were shivering, unable to keep your shoulders from shaking or your body to stay still. You felt a big, warm leather jacket rest on your shoulders, as another pair of hands held a firm grip on the side of your body, then.

“Let’s go to the van, ok?” Momo smiled, blocking your vision from the scene unraveling in front of the apartment complex’s garden. “We can wait for the others there. Jihyo just went to get dahyun before we leave. She was looking for you in the north area. She was the one who called Jihyo, actually.”

You nodded, not paying much attention to the dancer’s words. Still, you allowed her to guide you to the vehicle until you were sitting by the door. Momo showed you two small water bottles, handing out one of them.

“Here, take little sips, just so you won’t be too dehydrated.” Momo waited for you to acknowledge her command, smiling with reassurance as you drank, glossy eyes losing a bit of its previous dullness. “Perfect, baby. Now, I’ll use this one to clean your hair, ok? Her hands went to your chin, to hold your head into place, and you winced once you felt a few droplets of cold water reach your skin. “I’m sorry, I know you’re shivering, but we have to get your hair clean. Just stay still for me, please? It won’t take long, promise.”

You did as told, sighing in relief once Momo’s fingers untangled the front strands of your humid hair. She murmured praises after she got her task done with, helping you to get properly seated. You waited for the others in silence, and only thing grounding you was Momo’s warm touch around your shoulders. She caressed your hair, too, and soon you could feel sleep overcome the nausea, making it difficult for your eyes to stay open. You didn’t give in, though. You were terrified of waking up alone, without them by your side.

Fortunately, the rest of the girls got inside soon, too. You felt relieved to see Sana and Nayeon standing next to each other, whispering in hushed tones as they sent you worried, reassuring smiles every once in a while. Jihyo kissed your cheek, exchanging a silent conversation with Momo before going to the passenger’s seat, which left Dahyun, who hesitantly made her way to you.

She looked like a mess: her eyes were swollen, and her cheeks were red, clearly from crying. Her hair, always neatly in place, was pretty much disheveled, as if she’d messed it up in hopes of easing her nervousness.

You knew that as a fact; you knew Dahyun as much as she knew you. You were sisters, after all.

“I-I'm sorry.” You managed to say, in a weakened tone. Dahyun’s mouth dropped into an “o”, clearly stunned, and she chocked on her saliva. You didn’t let her say anything, though, gaining confidence from Momo’s reassuring grip on your skin. “I fucked it up. I shouldn’t have had anything to drink. It’s my fault, only.”

Dahyun looked up, unable to keep the tears from streaming down her face. She was relieved to know you weren’t mad at her, but also completely enraged at herself for being the reason you were in such a state. So small and frail, like a porcelain doll.

That was what you were: their little doll, for the girls to take care of, dote and love. Once again, Dahyun had failed that. She despised herself for it.

“It’s my fault, little angel. My fault.” Dahyun gave you a sad smile, caressing your face. “I… I thought it would give you good memories, to sneak out and party a little, like we used to. I’m to blame: I brought you here, and I left you by yourself, too. I’m so, so sorry.”

You shook your head, hugging her as hard as you could in your weakened state. The van was moving too much, and you were starting to feel nauseous again, yet you didn’t say a word. You simply held Dahyun close to you, reminiscing the fun times you had: when you’d party, laugh, and be extremely hangover, coming home by sunrise while the others pretended not to hear your drunken clumsiness whenever you tried to get into your rooms. Those were great memories, filled with laughter and the opportunity of being normal for a few hours. Just a girl attending a party, for once.

You understood why Dahyun had wanted you to come, then.

“I know, Dahyunie. I know.” You murmured, caressing her hair, just as Momo had done to you. It was a cycle of pain and guilt, one you desperately wanted to end. And the only thing you did was fuck things up further and further. “Thank you for remembering that. We had lots of fun, back then. Right?”

Momo, noticing your breathing becoming quicker, and erratic, drew your head onto her chest. “Close your eyes, my sweet. It’s been a long night. You can talk later.”

You tried to argue, but it seemed as if your body had recognized the command instantly. Your eyelids grew heavy, and the last thing you spotted was Dahyun’s relieved, small smile at you, before you gave into darkness.

Your weariness grew heavy on the girl’s bones, too. They all left the van with exhaustion in their eyes, not a single word exchanged on the way to their apartment. Momo went first, carrying the asleep girl in her arms with ease. You didn’t even move when she placed you in bed with uttermost care, letting the others change you into comfortable pajamas as she went to her bedroom.

Nayeon left once she was done discharging your dirty clothes, too, followed by Sana, after the latter left you water and fruits on your nightstand.

That left Jihyo, who stared into your moving chest with her arms crossed, much like a statue, and Dahyun, small and quiet besides the leader.

“I really didn’t mean it, unnie.” Dahyun murmured, desperate for Jihyo to understand. She was having a hard time figuring out how to help you-- they all were, and feeling the older girl’s disapproval only made her feel worse. “I shouldn’t have snuck her out, and I’m deeply sorry. Please. I only wanted to make things go back to how they were.”

With a sigh, Jihyo finally looked at Dahyun, who eagerly returned the stare. Whatever the leader intended to say, though, was suppressed quickly. Maintaining her blank face, Jihyo excited the room, no words exchanged.

#sol writes #twice angst #dahyun x reader #jihyo x reader #jihyo angst #dahyun angst #momo angst #minatozaki sana x yn #nayeon x reader #kpop angst #s.writes

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sugolara · 2 years ago

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𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Feat. Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

An ongoing series.

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down its borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's too late for some people. The dead have risen and are looking for revenge.

Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, heavy angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, updates thursday/sunday, slow burn, wd: 1k - 5k, its a quirkless! au, so u.a is a private high school with general education along with classes that have hands-on experience; like a trade school.

✓ HEAVILY EDITED: s1 - s5 has been heavily edited as of 7/15/24 - 9/16/24, s6 - s9 has finally been edited as of 9/16/24 - 11/22/23, so a few things may not make sense if you are re-reading or the comments do not make sense.

Inspired by, ''The Walking Dead''

Table of contents:

Season 1: The beginning of us. Episode 1: Begin Episode 2: Not alone Episode 3: Gone but not forgotten Episode 4: You belong in this world Episode 5: Because all life is precious Episode 6: Musutafu, we'll meet again Episode 7: Izuku: I'd always thought there be more time

Season 2: The setting I lived for. Episode 8: During these two weeks Episode 9: Diopside, like your eyes Episode 10: For the first time in a long time Episode 11: Determined to survive, stay alive Episode 12: Imperturbable Episode 13: Almost complete Episode 14: Katsuki: You are going to beat this world

Season 3: The completion of us. Episode 15: Away with you Episode 16: Three months ago Episode 17: Disappear Episode 18: Thin ice Episode 19: Nothing else to lose Episode 20: My savior Episode 21: Shoto: Everything you would be will be gone

Season 4: The torture realization. Episode 22: Trouble Episode 23: For however long that'll be Episode 24: The fallen city Episode 25: Stay who you are Episode 26: Here with you Episode 27: All together Episode 28: F/n: A soul yet to be mourn

Season 5: The dawn to you. Episode 29: Back on road Episode 30: Lost Episode 31: Safe in your arms Episode 32: And so it begins Episode 33: At stake Episode 34: To be forgiven Episode 35: Familiar face

Season 6: The journey to you. Episode 36: Solace Episode 37: A stab through my ticker Episode 38: Never to easy Episode 39: To good for death Episode 40: Dreams of my hateful memories Episode 41: A stroke of luck Episode 42: Be aware Episode 43: Bait Episode 44: A thump in my heart Episode 45: Belong to me Episode 46: One step closer (Towards you)

Season 7: The ache in my heart. Episode 47: Sorston Episode 48: Bitter tenderness Episode 49: Here to stay Episode 50: The start Episode 51: Powder Episode 52: Good morning and goodbye Episode 53: For they may be my last Episode 54: An end to sorrow, grief & regret Episode 55: Even when I'm sleeping Episode 56: Reporting to duty Episode 57: I dream of you like I'm afraid tomorrow will be the last I see you

Season 8: The beauty of choice. Episode 58: Not who you were Episode 59: Just you, me and the others Episode 60: The Plaza Episode 61: The other side Episode 62: To be ready Episode 63: You're here Episode 64: My dear Episode 65: Secrets you'll soon share Episode 66: Discard me Episode 67: To wish you well Episode 68: For as long as we live Episode 69: Like a flower I bloom and then later fade away

Season 9: The missing. Episode 70: I'll see you in a while Episode 71: So wait for me Episode 72: Hushed secrets Episode 73: I wanna get it through to you Episode 74: It won't be long Episode 75: My heart echoes Episode 76: Amend Episode 77: Consumed in dark Episode 78: When you wake up, you'll remember this, I promise you Episode 79: Just a little longer Episode 80: Last man standing

Season 10: The end of us. Episode 81: The day came in which you left me Episode 82: And all I have is nothing but memories of you Episode 83: While I pass these lonely hours listen to my lullaby Episode 84: Flurry night

To be continued...

Playlist!

Space junk - Wang Chung Wolf - First Aid Kit Into The Black - Chromatics My Life In Rewind Run Boy Run - Woodkid Bad Before Good - Day One You're so Cool - Jonathon Bree So Bored - Gorgeous Bully Operations - Duster Civilian - Wye Oak Can't Stop - Red Hot Chili Peppers Sweet Child O' Mine - Guns N' Roses Skyfall - Adele Up the wolves - The Mountains Goats Be Gone Dull Cage - Kiev Into Dust - Mazzy Star Tomorrow Is a Long Time - Bob Dylan Poison Tree - Grouper Rhymes Of An Hour - Mazzy Star You Are The Wilderness - Voxhaul Broadcast Running - Delta Spirit People, Turn Around - Delta Spirit The Lion's Roar - First Aid Kit Pain - Boy Harsher Setup - Favored Nations This Old Death - Ben Nichols Revolution - Red Shahan Mr. Splitfoot - Paris Motel The Man Who Sold The World - Nirvana Beautiful Mess - Balian The Day The World Went Away - Nine Inch Nails Empty Words - Bowery Electric No Longer Making Time - Slowdive Hush - Trills Struggling Man - Emily Kinney The Last Pale Light In the West - Ben Nichols Blackbird Song - Lee Dewyze Step Away From the Cliff - Blue-Eyed Son Take Care (To Comb Your Hair) - Ty Segall Paradise - Silverberg No Peace At All - Aldous Harding Glad I Had a Friend - Galt MacDermot Machine Gun - Portishead Shadows of Planes - Duster Save Us from Ourselves - Digital Daggers Salt in the Wound - Delta Spirit I'm No Heroine - Emily Wells It's All Right - Sam Cooke To Build A Home - The Cinematic 6 Underground - Sneaker Pimps Edge Of The World- Dayshell Bye Bye Bye - School of Seven Bells You Are Not Alone - Mavis Staples Welcome - Harmonia & Eno '76 Hope We Can Again - Nine Inch Nails outside - Oneheart sleepless - Odyzon Arsonist's Lullabye - Hozier It's All Over - Johnny Cash The Stars Just Blink for Us - Say Hi Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division Knockin' On Heaven's Door - Guns N' Roses Runnin' Down A Dream - Tom Petty Fly Like An Eagle - Steve Miller Band Alesund - Sun Kil Moon Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd Wicked Game - Chris Isaak 1908 - Repulsive Rule of Rose OST - Playing Airship I Shall Cross This River - The Black Atlantic Easy Way Out - Low Roar Don Abandons Alice - John Murphy Wherever You Are - Ulrich Schnauss Waitin' Around to Die - Townes Van Zandt Hope Prevails - Jesper Kyd Take Me Home - Lazyroom A Song For You - Leon Russell

taglist: @mikeyswifie @k0z3me @sky-angel101 @stevenknightmarc @nahwajinswhore @mn-0p @a-helen113 @azrral @mary-jinx @chixkadee @flowers-4-you @im-the-groot @v3n7s @karishaetheblog

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axkirak · 4 months ago

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The Curse of Cassandra [EP : XIII]

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings : Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader) [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+ Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

Summary : The last bloodline of House Atreides is about to reach its own conclusion. Both Yord and you understand what lies ahead and are ready to do whatever it takes to protect each other, even if it means one of you may have to sacrifice their life.

Status: just finished writing this fic! (It will end in Episode 14)

A/N : Just one chapter left until the end, and I'm feeling sad to see that many have stopped reading my fic. It's been tough to stay motivated to continue, but I want to finish what I've started. I hope those who are still following along are enjoying the story. Thank you for sticking with me

Ps.If you enjoy my work, please reblog it. Just liking the post won’t help others discover it.

➡ Intro // EP : 1 // EP : 2 // EP : 3 // EP : 4 // EP : 5 // EP : 6 // EP : 7 // EP : 8 // EP : 9 // EP : 10 // EP : 11 // EP : 12 // EP : 14 (Completed)

Special OS : Phantom Thread // My mother is my enemy

[Episodes 13] Here I am, here I remain.

"Run away with me."

You aren't particularly surprised to find Yord standing at your doorstep in the early evening; however, his sudden plea still manages to catch you off guard.

Yord is still panting, one hand gripping the doorframe tightly. His face glistens with sweat dripping from his forehead, a sign of how hard he must have pushed himself to rush here. His wide eyes looking at you reflect a whirlwind of emotions—anxiety, concern, and anger.

"You don't have to do this," Yord says, his voice serious as he continues when you remain silent. "Those plans are complete nonsense! How desperate do they have to be to drag you into such madness?"

Ah, so he knows everything, you think to yourself, assuming it was likely Jackie or Sol who told him.

The plan Yord refers to is Sol’s secret scheme, a final attempt after repeated failures to capture the new Sith Lord. It involves using you as both bait and a means to force Qimir into revealing himself.

Qimir is an unparalleled assassin known for his perfection, having never left any evidence or shown any vulnerability that could lead to his capture. The Jedi call him ‘The Stranger,’ a faceless phantom, an identity-less shadow. No one knows who he is, when he will appear, or who his next victim will be.

Until now, only you and Sol know about Qimir's past, but even that hasn’t helped solve the case. All records of his time as a Padawan were erased long ago, and Vernestra, who could have confirmed everything, is dead.

The final solution comes down to you. Your visions and the deep connection you share with Qimir are the only keys Sol believes can stop him.

You remember when Sol came to you personally to discuss the plan. You sensed the weight of his desperation and the pressure he was under to make this choice, despite the warnings you had already given him.

In your vision, Sol wasn’t even a match for Qimir. The chances of him throwing his life away in this plan were dangerously high.

Yet, despite knowing this, Sol remained determined.

"Perhaps this is the only way I can atone for what I did at Brendok," he told you in a calm voice, his eyes reflecting his weariness. "We all have sins to repay and fates we cannot escape. Let me face mine as a Jedi."

His words took root in your heart. You knew that fate wasn't just pursuing Sol—it was after you as well.

Your thoughts return to the present. You turn away, unable to meet Yord’s eyes. "It’s impossible," you finally reply, trying to keep your voice steady, but the words come out in a trembling whisper. "You're a Jedi Knight, Yord. You can't throw everything away for me."

"Fuck the Jedi and the Sith! They don’t even care if you live or die!"

You flinch. You’ve never seen Yord explode with such rage before.

Noticing your reaction, Yord realizes he's let his emotions spiral out of control. He wipes a hand over his face, taking a deep breath to calm the fury still simmering within.

“Please, I’m begging you... just come with me,” his tone softens, shifting from anger to a plea. “There’s still time for us to run. I’ll make sure no one finds you. You’ll be safe with me. I swear.”

Yord grips your hand tightly, and you can feel the tremor in his hold. The Bene Gesserit training tells you immediately what’s behind it—he’s afraid. But afraid of what?

“This has nothing to do with you, Yord,” you say, feeling a pang of sympathy but not knowing how to comfort him. “But I’ve seen clearly… it’s impossible.”

You know that facing Qimir again is inevitable. Even if you fled with Yord now, it would only delay the inevitable. Eventually, Qimir will find you, and this path would lead Yord to a cruel, tragic end—something you would never allow to happen to your only living relative.

“But I’ve seen it too!” Yord blurts, still refusing to accept your decision. “I dreamt of you... of your death, at his hands. I won’t let that happen.”

His words don’t surprise you. Instead, you offer him a soft smile. The bond inherited from Paul Atreides stirs within your heart, prompting you to instinctively caress his cheek with loving concern.

"You may have just seen it for the first time, but I've seen it a thousand times," you say, weariness lacing your voice.

You’ve seen every choice, every possible outcome, and every death of your own—both in dreams and while awake. It feels as if you’ve lived through countless deaths, and the fear you once held has long faded into numb acceptance.

This is the torment of one doomed to see everything—a suffering no ordinary person could ever understand or endure.

"But death isn't the only path," you continue. "There are still many futures that can be changed, even if just slightly. But even a slight change can make all the difference. That's why I have to follow this plan."

"Then I’m coming with you," Yord insists.

You study the determination in his eyes under the temple’s dim light, realizing just how serious he is. "Yord, I’m not sure if..."

“You can’t stop me,” he interrupts, cutting you off as if he already knows what you’re thinking. “If you won’t go with me, then I’ll go with you.”

You want to argue, but you choose silence instead. You don't want him to come, yet you know that trying to stop him would be futile. Yord will do anything to stay by your side, to make sure you’re safe from every danger—even if it costs him his life.

And deep down, you know you’d do the same for him.

In that moment, both of you feel an unbreakable bond woven from a shared consciousness through the memories of your ancestors. The sibling love between Paul and Alia from the past intermingles with your own memories, merging into a blood bond that binds you both to your very souls.

Every path of fate and coincidence has intertwined to lead to this moment, where the last remnants of the Atreides bloodline stand before each other, waiting to take the final step toward the end of everything, together.

You press your lips tightly, your heart trembling with emotions too complex to name. Finally, you throw yourself into his arms. “I love you,” you whisper before pulling away.

Your unexpected action catches Yord off guard. He looks at you in surprise, noticing the silent fear in your eyes—the fear you refuse to voice and the fear he chooses not to ask about.

"I love you too," Yord replies, entwining his fingers with yours. In that instant, he feels as if the past and future have collapsed into one, compressing and enveloping both of you. His mind suddenly understands, without the need for explanation, that fate has already changed its course.

And though Yord can’t see visions as clearly as you do, he can still feel it…

...feel that this might be the last time he will ever see your face.

Eiram

Most of this planet is covered by vast oceans, with only a few forests deep within the islands. Scattered remnants of past disasters still litter the landscape—derelict houses crumbled by violent storms, massive trees left in unnatural positions, and the decaying remains of the Starlight Beacon, now completely covered in moss.

The ship lands silently on the beach of a deserted island. The ocean stretches behind them, dense forest lies ahead. It is peaceful and beautiful—an ideal spot for a tourist destination. Yet, Yord can’t shake the unease that gripped him the moment they arrived. Something feels wrong, but he can’t put his finger on why.

Yord tells himself it’s just the stress of the mission, but deep down, he knows it’s more. He’s sure you sense it too—the worry on your face confirms it.

“Are you all right?” Yord asks, his voice full of concern as he notices you dabbing a handkerchief to your bleeding nose.

He’s only recently learned that this always happens when you use your visions. You’ve told him it’s the price of defying nature—that each time you dive into heightened awareness, you pay the toll with your body. Yord feels sympathy for you, but there’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t have the power you do, and he has no idea how to ease the pain you endure.

“Not great, but I’ll manage,” you reply, your voice unusually cold as you nod at him. “Let’s keep going. We have a lot to deal with.”

Your gaze is steady as you look toward the wild forest ahead, the place where you told the Jedi The Stranger was hiding.

At that moment, Yord doesn’t catch the underlying meaning in your words or actions.

He doesn’t realize... until after it has already happened.

Why?

This thought races in Yord’s mind during his final moments of consciousness. His body slumps against a tree, completely immobile. Pain radiates in his head and back, and his vision slowly darkens. Yet he can still see you clearly. You stand above him with an expressionless face, holding the stun blaster—the very one he gave you for protection. It’s the same weapon you just used to shoot him from behind.

He furrows his brow, desperately trying to understand what just happened. What mistake led him to this situation?

His recent memories flash back to when the Jedi group, led by Sol and Jackie, ventured into the forest on your guidance. Yord had chosen to stay behind with you, ensuring your safety in case anything went wrong.

But they had unknowingly walked into the trap of a Sith Lord. None of them had suspected they were being watched the entire time—until the attack came suddenly when a tall man in a dark cloak lunged at them with a red lightsaber in hand. Though the man’s face was concealed beneath a strange helmet, Yord had known immediately who he was—The Stranger, the Sith Lord they had been chasing all along.

The battle erupted in a chaotic frenzy. Yord quickly realized how skilled Qimir was. His skills were no less than a master's, perhaps even beyond that. Despite being attacked simultaneously by multiple Jedi, Qimir maintained his defense steadily without flinching, countering with swift and powerful strikes. The brilliant red beam cut through the air with deadly precision. He moved too fast for anyone to keep up, and one by one, the Jedi fell before him, as if killing Jedi was no more than a simple task for him.

Yord could only watch in horror. Fear gripped his heart as he tightened his hold on his own lightsaber. In all his years as a Jedi Knight, he had never faced an opponent this terrifying.

“Yord! Get her out of here! Master and I will handle him!"

Jackie's shout snapped Yord back to his senses. He quickly grabbed your hand, taking advantage of the chaos to escape immediately. He wasn’t even sure which direction the ship was in—all he knew was that he had to get you as far away from Qimir as possible.

A deep instinct told him that if Qimir reached you, something terrible would happen.

Yord stopped running when you suddenly pulled your hand away from his. At first, he thought you were just exhausted from running, but before he could turn to check on you, an immense force slammed into him. His body was thrown violently and crashed hard against a tree, the impact knocking the wind out of him.

And now, here he is—helpless, barely conscious, and fading fast.

His mind races, but no answers come. His blurry eyes focus on you, filled with confusion. Gathering the last bit of strength he can muster, he manages to ask, “Why?”

You slowly kneel before him. For a brief moment, Yord sees guilt in your eyes, but it quickly fades back into cold indifference.

“Because of love,” you answer him. "That's why I had to do this. Please forgive me."

Your voice sounds distant and faint. Yord wants to ask more, but the darkness spreads too quickly, swallowing him whole and completely overtaking his consciousness.

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stranger-fanfiction-n-things · 7 months ago

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CHAPTER 7: THE BATHTUB

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I can't believe we only have two more episodes left! Thank you all for your patience! Let me know what y'all think. I read everything and respond!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3252

Masterlist

PART I || PART II ||

HAWKINS POLICE STATION – CHERRY STREET

As soon as I open the front door, a gust of cold wind blows and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. The cool air feels nice on my skin despite the cold. I wish I wore a jacket instead of a plaid shirt. I look around trying to figure out where I should go. I can’t walk too far away from the station in case Chief Hopper comes back. I decide to go left up Cherry Street. The series of unfortunate events leading up to this moment all play out in my head and I rub my temples trying to ease the dull pulsating ache.

Today, Jonathan, Nancy and I started to forge a plan to kill the monster and find Will and Barb. How will we find them in that place? How will we find the tree? It closed after Jonathan pulled me out of it. I can’t imagine how alone and scared Barb must be inside that place by herself. It’s been days since I last saw her and with the police thinking she left town; they won’t try finding her. The Hollands. I blink back tears, flaring my nostrils to keep them from falling. I hope they don’t think badly of Nancy and I for lying. I feel like we owe it to them to find Barb and bring her back. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, sniffing softly.

There are still so many loose ends to tie up like where can we lure the monster if not in the forest where it lives? How do we have the upper hand in killing the monster? Hawkins is a small town, there is nowhere to put this thing without drawing attention to ourselves especially now that we are on the radar of cops. I let out a noise of frustration, stomping on the ground. How are we going to execute the plan now? Nancy and I can’t leave Jonathan at the station. What if they put him in jail?

If it weren’t for Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve, we would be able to properly plan.

This all happened because Jonathan was in Nancy’s room? There’s no doubt in my mind that they weren’t doing anything compromising. How could they after what happened? Nancy almost died last night. If it weren’t for Jonathan who knows what could have happened to her—to me. Also, Nancy liked Steve too much to do anything that could jeopardize her relationship with him. The voice in the back of my head questions: But what about Jonathan?

As if you didn’t know from the start, Sinclair! It would explain why you’re always protecting the pervert.

I frown pushing strands of hair away from my face. It’s clear Steve and Jonathan do not like each other. I thought it was because of stupid boy ego and bravado. Both boys can be arrogant. It explains why they clash. But I feel unsettled by what Steve said in the alley. As if you didn’t know from the start. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t believe it to be true, would he?

Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And that damn stupid.

I don’t agree with what Flo said to Nancy and I about Jonathan’s reasons for fighting back in the alley, but with all that has happened this week, all that was said, especially in the forest about believing Nancy was “trying to be someone else” yet doing what every other suburban girl does, rebel until the phase passes and end up marrying “some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and live out a perfectly boring life at the end of a cul-de-sac”. I didn’t realize it back then, but now that I think about it, Jonathan was talking about Steve. I stop walking and look around. It’s like everything clicked and that unsettling feeling became stronger, heavier.

Does Jonathan like Nancy?

My brain feels like a tangled web of confusion. How did I not notice it before? The signs are all there. It was all subtle and platonic in the moment, but the more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. I laugh in disbelief shaking my head.

This is such a mess.

I shiver against the strong gust of wind whooshing in my ear and tuck my chin into my chest, continuing to walk. Neither Jonathan or Steve hid their dislike for each other. Part of me regrets standing up for Steve yesterday, especially after today. But the argument in the forest was about Jonathan taking those photos. It always comes down to that stupid lapse in judgement. Though I don’t agree with Steve breaking Jonathan’s camera, I understand why he did it. To protect Nancy’s honour and to protect himself. As I told Jonathan, Steve’s privacy was violated too. All of ours were. What Jonathan did was gross and Steve did what he thought was best. Steve had a right to be upset.

He just takes it too far.

Breaking Jonathan’s camera, the marquee, the awful things he said to both Nancy and Jonathan. I know Steve is hurt. I saw it in his eyes. From his perspective the optics aren’t great. He did what he thought was right in the moment to protect Nancy, checked up on her to see if she was okay, only to find Nancy in her room with Jonathan, the boy he was trying to protect her from. I get it, but the rigmarole after. Unacceptable.

Steve wanted that fight with Jonathan back in the alley and Jonathan was ready to give him that fight. A chill runs down my spine. The sound of skin hitting skin replays in my head. The power behind every punch still scares me. For as long as I’ve known Jonathan, he’s been a quiet, somewhat brooding person who often kept to himself. He doesn’t bother nor really talk to anyone. It was always him and his camera. It’s why the way he was fighting Steve concerned me.

Even though our little brothers are best friends, this week has been the most I have ever spoken to Jonathan. We’ve exchanged a few words when I helped him with his photography project, but other than that, we rarely crossed paths. I am aware of his home life based on what Lucas would say during dinner about Will not being able to come over to hang out with the rest of the boys because he’s spending time with his dad. Based on his tone alone, it’s clear Will is uncomfortable around him. At the funeral, I remember observing the way he was acting. There was something sly about Mr. Byers because I haven’t seen or heard about him until Will’s funeral. It’s clear he isn’t present in both boys lives because Jonathan doesn’t know how to tie a tie. Even when Steve was saying horrible things about his dad, Jonathan didn’t flinch.

“Excuse me, sorry,” I say, pushing past a couple standing in the middle of the street.

He didn’t do anything until Steve started saying terrible things about Miss Byers and Will. I looked in his eyes, that flash of rage, but it was too late. Jonathan’s punches were direct and intentional…familiar almost. Where did he learn to fight? Did his dad teach him? Or was Jonathan used to having to protect himself all the time? Even though our unlikely alliance came out of something tragic, I like being around him. I care about him. I puff out my cheeks, running my fingers through my hair. There was so much I needed to talk to Jonathan about.

HAWKINS CINEMA

My feet come to a stop in front of the building that started it all. I stare up at the large marquee feeling many different emotions all at once. Shock. Disgust. Anger. Disappointment. It’s been almost 45 minutes since I first saw the horrible display of affection and though there wasn’t a crowd circling Hawkins Cinema to see the spectacle, the bright red letters still commanded attention.

NANCY THE SLUT WHEELER

How did we get here? The question has been burning a hole in my brain all morning. I scowl at Tommy’s messy handwriting. That boy is the absolute worse. The unsettling image of Tommy watching me from afar makes me sick to my stomach. It’s one thing to pick on me, but to follow me around and loathe me for talking to someone who has been nothing but kind to me. I clench my hands into fists, grinding my teeth against each other. The perception people have of Eddie is starting to annoy me and I can’t help but feel protective of him. He’s not like anyone in town and I can relate to that. Being different. Eddie makes it look easy and I love that about him. I envy that about him as well.

From the corner of my eye, I see a tall person and glance in their direction. Realizing who it is, I scoff shaking my head. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Sinclair?”

I ignore Steve walking fast back down Cherry Street.

“Hey, wait!” Steve shouts. I keep my head down avoiding the confused stares of bystanders.

“Sinclair!”

I press my lips together feeling the bubbling anger in my stomach rise to my chest. Sinclair? Who does he think he is, calling me Sinclair. As if I’m a teammate on the basketball team. He knows my name. I look around ready to cross the street when I feel Steve run up beside me.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” He pants, holding his side.

“No.” I say looking anywhere to avoid looking at him. When the coast is clear I jog across the street.

“Please,” Steve huffs jogging beside me. “Just hear me out.”

“No.”

“Look, I just want to apologize.”

I roll my eyes, snorting in disbelief. “Again? Save it. I don’t need an apology because I know you’re going to do something for it to not mean anything.”

“Oh, c’mon, Sinclair—”

I whip around so fast Steve flinches as my hair hits him across his chest. “Don’t call me that!” I snap, glaring angrily at him. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t say anything! Leave me alone!”

Steve’s brows shoot up in surprise. As suspected looking at Jonathan’s swollen knuckles, the entire left side of his face is battered and bruised. From the split on his left brow, the bridge of his nose and right side of his lip in addition to all the dry blood smeared and crusting around his face, Jonathan got him good. I would’ve been more horrified and compassionate if it weren’t for what he did to get beaten and how rude and impolite he is to me right now.

I walk pass him continuing down Cherry Street. The nerve of him. I am not one of his loyal followers. I am not his friend, especially after what he did and said back in the alley. I perk up feeling another wave of anger build in me. Jonathan, Nancy and I had to be escorted to the police station while, Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve got off scot-free when they were the ones causing the problems in the first place. No one has been accounted for that disgusting sign, yet Jonathan is literally handcuffed for defending himself.

I am sick and tired of people being terrible and getting a slap on the wrist because of their popularity. I turn around, stomping back to Steve who hadn’t moved from his spot, staring wide eyed and confused at the building of Hawkins Post.

“I don’t know what that was or who you think you are,” I continue. “But if the person I saw back there is the real you. I will make sure Nancy stays far, far away. That I promise you, Harrington.” I threaten. Steve opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off quick. “Do you know how traumatic this is for her?”

“Traumatic?” Steve shouts, staring at me in disbelief. “She cheated on me!”

“No, she didn’t!” I shout back, defending my best friend. Nancy wouldn’t do that. She likes him too much. “You only caught a glimpse of something and ran with it.”

“You didn’t see what I saw, Sin—” Steve’s words die in his throat. I squint, daring him to call me by my last name again. Steve shifts to lean on one leg, putting one hand on his hip and takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge between his nose with his other. He winces slightly, dropping his hand to his other hip and glares down at me. “They were sitting on her bed and he had—he had his arm around her.”

I blink waiting for more information. Steve stares back at me waiting for my response. I frown. “That’s it?”

“Yes!” He throws his hands up in annoyance.

“That’s why you’re upset?”

Steve groans out of frustration, combing his fingers through his hair. “I know what I saw and I know what Nancy did!”

“Did you ever stop and think maybe Nancy was confiding in Jonathan because they both lost someone important to them? Is that too hard to believe?” Steve scoffs shaking his head. “If you really believed she cheated on you, instead of running to Tommy, Carol, and Nicole, knowing how they are, why didn’t you just call Nancy and talk to her!”

“I saw what I saw.” Steve says. His voice is quiet and even, but the anger and hurt in his eyes remain. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“So, because there’s ‘nothing to talk about’,” I use air quotes, mocking him. “You decided to slut-shame Nancy in front of the entire town.” I yell, extending an arm out, pointing with disdain at the source of irritation. “You’re sick!” I hiss, pointing at him before turning away.

“That was all Tommy, not me!” Steve yells. “I didn’t write that about Nancy!”

I turn around rushing toward him. “But you didn’t stop Tommy from doing it and that’s always been my issue with you!” I cry, lifting my hands up in the air. “You never stop it. You never do anything. You stand there and let it happen!” Steve jerks his head back, drawing his brows together. I drop my hands down to my sides. “Whether you like it or not, everything falls back on you because you’re King Steve. You have this—this persona to uphold and you cannot choose when it does and does not apply to you because it always does!”

“I didn’t ask to be King Steve.” Steve says between clenched teeth.

“You look fine when you’re reaping the benefits when it serves you.” I point out. “But when something like this happens, when your back is against the wall, now it’s I didn’t ask to be King Steve? Give me a break!” Steve avoids eye contact, clenching his teeth until I see the tick in his jaw. “It’s so frustrating to see you act the way you do when you're around Tommy and Carol or any one of your stupid jock friends because I know that’s not you and deep down,” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “I know you know it too. I know you know better. You’re not like them, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes lock with mines. The lines between his brows smoothen and I see that look again, the one I saw briefly in the alley. I stare up at him, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip and shake my head, looking up at the sky.

“Believe it or not, I think your better than them. You can be such a jerk—an asshole even, but you are better than them.” I speak softly, looking back at him. “Every time I start to think ‘maybe Steve Harrington isn’t that bad. Maybe he’s actually a good person’. You do something to make me take back my words and I feel foolish enough to believe you can be.”

Steve draws his brows in sadly. His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I am a good person.” He murmurs.

“Are you?” I challenge, pointing at the marquee again. “Is that who you are? Is that who you want to be?”

“I—” Steve trails off unsure of what to say.

I drop my hand, crossing my arms above my chest to keep warm. I’m not wearing a proper jacket or any jacket; just a plaid shirt.

“I know you’re embarrassed by the pictures.” I begin, swiping strands of hair out of my face as a gust of wind blows in our direction. “You were in them and your privacy was invaded just as much as Nancy’s. I promise you; I do not condone what Jonathan did and he knows that. It was disgusting and stupid. I’ve had that conversation with him. However, that is no excuse to say all those things about him and his family. I know you’re hurt because of Nancy, but, Jesus, Steve.” I look down at my shoes, kicking a pebble onto the road.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You wanted that fight with Jonathan, admit it.” His silence is enough to confirm my sentiment. I shake my head.

“You do realize he buried his brother yesterday, don’t you? His brother. My little brother’s best friend was buried yesterday and we still—” I stop, trying to catch my breath. I put my hand on my chest blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “We still can’t find Barb.”

“Have you heard anything from the cops?” Steve asks. I don’t respond right away looking at the blood stains on his shirt. Flashes of the monster in the woods, eating that deer appear in my mind and I close my eyes trying to rid it from my memory.

“Diana.” My eyebrows twitch and I open my eyes. Steve is looking at me with such intensity my breathing becomes shallow. This is the first time Steve has said my name. The first time acknowledging me as a person, not just Nancy’s best friend. The way he says my name…the yearning in his voice. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Steve licks his bottom up shifting uncomfortably back and forth. “Please.” He begs. “I know something’s wrong. It’s—It’s why I went over to Nancy’s in the first place.” He sighs in defeat. “I just want to help.”

Part of me believes him. The part of me who believes Steve is a good person. I want to tell him what happened to Nancy and I last night in the forest, about Jonathan saving us from near-death. I want to tell him about the police finding Barbs car at a bus station. I want to tell him everything…but I look at the marquee again. I can’t get too close to Steve. Suddenly becoming hyper aware of how close Steve and I were to each other. I blink, taking a step back creating space between us. Steve moves to take a step toward me, but decides against it. I fix my posture, shaking my head.

“You can’t.” I say coldly, walking backwards and away from him. “You seriously need to figure out how to express your emotions because I don’t know how you come back from this. I really don’t. If I were Nancy, I would never want to see or speak to you again.”

NEXT -> PART II

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

#stranger things rewrite #stranger things #stranger things fic #sinclair!reader #dianasinclair #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x oc!reader #eddie munson x oc!reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

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the-queen-and-the-king · 4 days ago

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A little piece of paradise - 7

Summary: Emily and Aaron want to share an intimate moment together. But as they were doing it, someone knock on the door.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid

Contents: mention of CM stuff (not explicit), angst, guilt, anger and tiny bit of smut (don't blink, you'll miss it) NSFW/Minors DNI

This text will be an AU with a sudden canon-divergence. I wrote it when I was rewatching the show, so many chapters will be directly related to some episodes of season 4. There will be 28 chapters.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

Read on AO3 / lire sur AO3

___

Emily slowly slid down his erect member until she was sitting on Aaron's thighs. The couple were sitting on the couch in his living room, enjoying an intimate moment together after dinner. They'd just come back from an investigation that hadn't given them a chance to see each other on the sly, and they were hungry for the other. It hadn't taken them long to find themselves in this position, and the few undulations of the female profiler were enough to raise their excitement level. With their eyes both closed, they savored the pleasant sensations that took hold of their bodies. Their choppy breathing heralded an approaching orgasm.

Someone knocked on the door. They froze immediately, ears perked up, hearts pounding against their ribs. We knocked again.

“Are you expecting someone?”

“We are at your place, idiot.”

“But I’m expecting no one.”

As if to help them solve this mystery, a voice came from beyond the door.

“Hotch, it’s Spencer. I need to talk.”

The lovers' shoulders slumped.

“I'm coming!” replied the tenant of the premises, without having moved.

“Aaron!” hissed Emily, still on top of him.

She had given him a dark look that spoke volumes about the depth of her thinking. She had nothing against the young agent, but his timing was really bad in her opinion.

“What? Reacted the interested party. I remind you that I'm supposed to be available at all times to listen to you all.”

“I know, but don't you think we were a little busy right now?”

“Yes, but… we’ll come back to it later.”

“Hotch...” whined Reid, who had no idea what he'd unleashed.

“I’m coming, repeated the agency manager. A moment please.”

He looked at his partner, who understood she had no choice but to capitulate. So, she released him, got to her feet, and collected her belongings scattered on the floor before locking herself in the bedroom. Before pushing the door back, she whispered to the giant:

“If you don't want him to wonder, you should take a breath.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. She lowered her eyes, and he imitated her. He still had an erection. Not as much as a few minutes earlier, but enough for it not to go unnoticed. His irises rolled skyward.

“Don't hang around too long.”

“I will do what I can.”

They kissed and Aaron returned to the living room, trying to think of horrible things.

“Hotch?”

“Yes! Give me a second!”

He threw the leftover food piled on their plates in the garbage can and put them, along with the cutlery and glasses, in the dishwasher. He looked around to make sure there was no sign of Emily's presence, then hurried towards the entrance. He couldn't keep his subordinate waiting any longer without arousing his suspicions. Before opening, he made sure he was presentable – he was – and unlocked the door. He met the multi-graduate's brilliant gaze right away, relieved to see him finally appear.

“Sorry, I have to…”

He realized he had no idea what he was going to say.

“Never mind. Come in.”

Spencer obeyed, dragging his feet to the armchair where he let himself fall. His superior inwardly thanked the intangible authority watching over him and his companion. At least he hadn't sat on the sofa where they'd been having a good time less than a quarter of an hour earlier.

“Do… Would you like something to drink? I've got water and grape juice,” he offered, his hand on the refrigerator handle.

“Do you have anything stronger?” asked Reid's head, popping up over the back of the couch.

“I’ve got whisky, gin, rhum and vodka.”

Mostly bottles he'd been offered, as his allegiance was to the most peaty alcohol of the lot, which he consumed in moderation, however.

“I’ll take the grape juice.”

He almost retorted that he suspected as much, but refrained and filled a glass, which he then brought to him. He settled for a glass of water and resumed his seat.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s… it's because of the investigation, stammered his guest, tears welling up in his eyes. I…”

He went no further, two pearls rolling down his cheeks. Aaron placed his glass on the coffee table and moved closer.

“Spencer, none of us wanted it to end this way, but unfortunately, you can't win them all.”

“But if we'd chosen the other option, maybe...”

“Maybe it would have been worse, he cut him off instantly. We don't know, and we never will. Don't start torturing your mind with "ifs", you'll never sleep again.”

An advice he should have applied to himself, but his galloping anxiety was turning a deaf ear to this kind of enlightened advice. Reid had brought his hand up to his mouth, fingers folded, as he did every time stress overcame him.

“Spencer, what happened is terrible, but we can't take it back. We're going to have to digest what's happened and use it to avoid making the same mistake again. Okay?”

The tall beanpole looked at the condensation painting furrows on his glass without answering. Aaron, for his part, imagined Emily stomping around the room, surely listening to their conversation as best she could from as far away and through the door.

“I’m afraid.”

“… What are you afraid of?” he replied, redirecting his attention to his protégé.

“I'm afraid to close my eyes and see... that scene again and again.”

“That's what's going to happen to all of us tonight, admitted the agency head, who was as prone to nightmares as his peers. But you have to sleep anyway. Staying up all night won’t help.”

“I'll never be able to go to sleep knowing I'm going to see this again,” he whimpered, raising a pleading eyebrow at his host.

Normally, he would have invited him to spend the night home to reassure him, but given who he was already hosting, he had to be cunning.

“You know, maybe if you watched a movie, an episode of a series you like – or even a documentary – it would help you fall asleep thinking about something else. And, eventually, you might not even dream about the file we've just completed.”

The young man's fine eyebrows wrinkled as he pondered this suggestion. His neighbor hoped he would jump on the bait and return to his own place.

“Would you watch it with me?”

Emily made a leap back as the door handle suddenly came down. She had tried to follow the discussion from a distance, but the apartment's acoustics hadn't been much help. Nor did her companion's very deep voice. It was he who stood in front of her now, entering the room at a brisk pace. He closed the gate behind him and walked past her to his closet.

“So?” she inquired, curious.

“So, he wants me to come over and watch an episode of Dr. Who at his place to help him sleep.”

“What?” she choked, surprised.

“It's either that or he sleeps in the living room.”

Anger rolled through the young woman's veins. She couldn't believe what he'd just said.

“You're telling me that while I'm sitting here alone, you're going to go watch TV with Spencer. Seriously?”

“You can come with us if you can explain what you're doing in my house, at this time of night, in your underwear.”

Aaron received the lightning bolts from his lover's eyes with full force. He understood her annoyance, but his hands were undoubtedly tied.

“What do you want me to say? he defended himself, pulling on a pair of socks. That he has to fend for himself because I want to have sex with his colleague?”

Emily pouted, then sighed, defeated in turn. She sat down on the mattress beside the giant, her shoulder touching his.

“Just one episode then.”

“Promise.”

He stood up, kissed her, and left. Elizabeth Prentiss's daughter sprawled on the sheets, thoughtful. Sleeping with the director of an FBI agency had its drawbacks. Many drawbacks, in fact. In the living room, he was putting on his shoes, keys to his apartment in hand, while Spencer had left the armchair.

“Why do you have Emily’s phone?”

“Excuse me?” retorted Hotch, straighten up abruptly.

The agent pointed to the cell phone that sat prominently on the coffee table. His interlocutor stifled a curse.

“Wha… why do you think it's Prentiss's?” he questioned, trying to control his voice as best he could.

His heart was pounding in his temples.

“I saw her texting with it the other day.”

“Oh. Uh… - he thought at full speed. Thanks for the information. I found it on the breakfast table this morning, I didn't know whose it was. I… I'll be able to give it back to her. Tomorrow.”

Reid seemed very proud to have been able to do him this favor and went out into the corridor looking more cheerful than when he arrived. In the bedroom, Emily heard the door close, and silence fell over her. Now all she had to do was wait. And so, she did. For a long time. A very long time. When Aaron deigned to reappear, she jumped on him, seething with rage.

“What were you doing?!”

“He insisted on seeing his favorite Dr. Who episode, and it happens to be over an hour long. And then he asked me to stay until he fell asleep,” he explained, very calmly.

“Do you have any idea how long you've been gone?”

She stared at him. He hesitated and suggested:

“An… an hour at least.”

“Two twenty-seven! she belched; her irritation fanned by the smirk she could see on his lips. I've been waiting for you to come back for two hours and twenty-seven minutes!”

She hit him on the shoulder to relieve his urge to laugh and vent some of her frustration.

“Sorry, he apologized, rolling his arms around her. Really, if I could have escaped earlier, I would have.”

She could have pushed him away, but wrapped up in his warmth, her fury gradually subsided and her muscles relaxed. He placed a kiss on her neck, and she smiled. He kissed her cheek; she caressed his face. He stood in front of her, and she kissed him. Seconds later, she was lying on her back while Aaron's mouth lingered on the contours of her torso. Under normal circumstances, these attentions would have had the desired effect, but tonight, parasitic thoughts were annihilating his efforts. Which he soon realized.

“What's wrong?” he asked, coming to lie beside her, one hand slipped under her nightie.

“I heard what Spencer said.”

He immediately raised his eyes to the sky and rolled onto the mattress, sighing. He had just understood that his evening was over.

“Sorry, she said, rising on one elbow to stroke his chest through his T-shirt. But you have to admit he's right. How could we have screwed up so badly?”

“If I knew, we wouldn't have screwed up.”

She could hear the disappointment in his tone of voice, but couldn't help cogitating, like her younger colleague.

“Come here.”

He hadn't even looked up to speak to her. Nevertheless, she did as he wished and found herself snuggled up against him, his arm girdled around her shoulders. Obviously, he didn't hold a grudge. To thank him, she kissed his nearest pectoral and announced:

“We’ll have sex tomorrow morning.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

They kissed, then began discussing their latest mission until sleep fell on them two hours later.

___

@sirpotys This one is for you. You were waiting for a fic where Spencer pops up at the wrong time, having no clue about what's going on between Hotch and Emily: here it is! :D

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First chapter >> https://www.tumblr.com/the-queen-and-the-king/771016298484334592/a-little-piece-of-paradise-1?source=share

#hotchniss #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #hotch #smut #angst #spencer reid

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 10 months ago

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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x22 There's No Place Like Home (Part 1)

Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 484

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (26) (27) (28)

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Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.

With Snow White off to secure reinforcements, Killian was left alone with the younger version of Emma’s father. There was a long moment of somewhat awkward silence, and Killian couldn’t help but wonder what Emma was enduring at the hands of the queen. The anxiety swelled at the thought. She was in danger, and he was wasting time simply sitting before a fire. He wanted to be off. Now. He wanted to find her, to save her.

But he was and had always been a strategic thinker, and he knew Lady Snow’s plan was a good one. He must content himself with remaining in place and waiting.

Nothing, however, said he must waste the intervening time. Perhaps he could find a way to steer Charming toward his ultimate destiny.

“Are you excited for your nuptials?” Killian asked casually.

The prince shook his head and smiled self-deprecatingly. “Hm,” he said, “marrying Midas’s daughter. What’s not to be excited about?”

“I don’t mean to pry, mate,” Killian said carefully, “but you don’t exactly look like someone who’s doing this by choice.”

David was silent for a moment, staring sightlessly into the fire. “I always thought I’d marry for love, and here I’m about to enter into what amounts to a business transaction, a merger of two kingdoms,” he said. “I don’t know. This whole ordeal makes me wonder if there's even such a thing as true love.”

Prince Charming was questioning the very concept of true love? Things were even more dire than he’d imagined.

“I once felt as you did mate,” Killian said, “and all it took was meeting the right person, and everything changed.”

“Princess Leia, the one we’re rescuing?”

Warmth filled Killian as he thought of Emma. “Aye. I’d go to the end of the word for her. Or time.”

“And she for you, I take it?”

Would she? Would she go to such lengths for him? He knew she had feelings for him, but she’d been running for so long–running from him, running from her family, running from love. Would she follow him through a time portal?

Killian chuckled “I don’t know.”

Charming looked surprised at that. “What’s the problem?”

That was far more than a short, fireside conversation, so Killian merely brushed it aside “There are many complications.”

“Family?” Charming asked. “Because my father is making things quite difficult for me.

“Aye, there’s that,” Killian said, suppressing a grin at the irony of the question. “I’m not so sure her parents approve of me.”

“Given the lengths you’ve gone to to save her, they’d be crazy not too.”

Killian did chuckle. “I hope you remember that.”

Further conversation came to a halt at the sound of someone approaching. Killian and Charming got to their feet, their swords drawn and pointed to the potential threat.

It looked like further discussion on the topic of their respective love lives would have to wait.

NEXT CHAPTER->

#season 3 rewatch drabbles #captain charming bromance fanfic #killian getting approval from Emma's dad #even if Emma's dad doesn't know what's happening

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chaand-jalne-laga · 10 months ago

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CJL LIVE BLOG SEASON 1 [EPISODE 1]

So. I know, this is wrong. Coz I put the IPK one on hold and now i am starting another, but I thought, this one is just for 82 epis(SO SHORT? WTF? CHALA HI NAHI SHOW?!?!?) So, it wont take much time to complete this and I also wanted to keep this content and ipk content separate. Hence, a separate blog. I know y'all might be hard-core Arshi fans and ipk fans, but, give this one, a chance, as well, ok? Just for entertainment's sake? Please? Baaki, it's your choice ofc :) Hope you enjoy this.

1.) Hmm. Pune. Maharashtra. A girl peeping out through the car window. Enjoying the 'jaadu' in the air. Btw, I like the BG score, here.

2.) In the flashback, we see two kids sitting on a white horse and the horse is galloping in its full galore. The girl confirms the magic in the air as her hands are flying. Lol. Typical kids.

3.) Tara di's sister is asking about her opinion on her looks. IDK but I cringed real hard when she said, "Achi lag rahi hun naa?"(Like yeah darling, you look average. Lol. JK. You look stunning but stop with that cringe acting, ok?)

4.) Tara Di opens her hair and A SECOND-LITERALLY A SECOND AGO, she was irritated but then immediately she is impressed with her di's improvisation. Whatever. Lol.

5.) Selfies. Di is excited so she starts taking selfies and her younger sister is suspicious instantly. Why? Does she not take selfies on any normal day? Maybe. *shrugs*

6.) How typical of people to instantly assume that if a girl seems excited then she might be having a 'chakkar' with some boy. Why girl? Your sister can't be happy for her own self, just like that, without any reason? *hmph* Do you make her that upset? Lol. That now her excitement seems abnormal.

7.) NGL but this Tara di's sister is a really bad actor, whoever she is. Sorry. Lol.

8.) Tara Di gets off the car and lets them drive by. Then, she quickly runs to the Bus Station to catch a bus for--?--whatever.

A Side Gyaan : But that's such a bad way to catch a bus, actually. First, you catch the attention of the bus driver coz they are at a considerable height and then they stop the vehicle ONLY THEN you cross it and get on the bus, okay? My readers? Don't be like Tara Didi, okay? Good. Now, we come back to the epi.

9.) So. Tara didi is changing her shoes. I really thought for a sec that she will change her outfit too. Lol. A kid is staring at her antiques and she notices people are staring at her. So.

What do you think will she do?

a) ignore them

b) make faces at them

c) sunaoify (rudely) them for staring at a slightly differently dressed girl

d) give them a five page ka gyaan on social etiquettes as a soon-to-be 'Starplus Bahu'

Yeah. You are neither right nor wrong, coz she will randomly pull out a jar of lollipops and distribute it to appease them. Yes. We all do that. We all step out of our homes, thinking we might happen to be in a bus and can then distribute it among the children on the said bus. Whatever.

10.) TD gets off the bus and buys chana and gur for--?--*shrugs*

11.) TD is now sitting in a-tempo?-transport vehicle. Whatever. Driver announces her destination which is- "Sehgal Estate"

12.) The driver assuming her to be a tourist, warns her, of the place having been shut down for quite a few years now and he tells her that an accident had taken place, many years ago. TD flashes back to that 'haadsa' and politely dismisses him by stating that she is a local.

13.) Ok, ladies, so all things aside, who all can climb up and cross that gate, that high, with a WHITE SAREE and that too without staining it!?!? Anyone? No? See, our Tara D (Lol. I have so many name ideas for this girl.) CAN. She is a champion at this. (Okay so i wanted to take a screenshot of that long-ass gate but Jio Cinema didn't let me. Fudge you, Ambanis'. Whatever. Lol.)

14.) She takes help from Deva's flash back advice when he had first guided her to climb that (same?) gate. Okay, so that saxophone BG score is cute, okay? Lol.

15.) Gosh. How did they manage to find a small girl who looks exactly like Kanika Mann? Wow. Casting directors take a bow. *bows down with joined hands*

16.) Okay, so the titular song has started in the BG and I am loving it. Meanwhile, TD is going about the mansion and recalling that 'haadsa'.

17.) I am actually kinda liking this kid, Deva. How sweet of him. He extends a bunch of yellow flowers (symbolizing friendship). And damn, he has one hell of a head full of soft and flowy tresses. Wow. Any hair care tips for us, girls, Deva? Lol. Whatever.

18.) She digs out the 'nishaani' of their friendship which is basically two thick stones(or rocks?) joining like a puzzle piece and 'Badshah' along with caricatures of Deva and Tara, carved on the two pieces.

19.) She becomes very emotional, holding the symbol of a once very beautiful bond she had with some boy named- Deva. And then out of the blue we hear a horse neighing and Tara instantly brightens as she recognizes Badshah.

20.) Sure enough, we see Badshah running towards Tara and Tara on reaching close to it, touches it affectionately on it's jaws. We see that Badshah is indeed angry and disappointed on Tara. He starts running away as Tara tries to pacify it(him?). Oh. So. The chana and gur was for a horse. Ok. Nice.

Fun-Fact : All things set aside, Kanika genuinely had to interact with a horse in the middle of the shoot. I wonder if there's some story to this episode which she might have, like she was hell scared of horses and yet had to learn how to interact even if it's a well trained horse, we are talking about. Okay. Enough. Now back to the epi.

21.) Basant Kaka has come to see Tara Bitiya. What's with that line?-"Main janta tha ki aaj ka din tu bhulegi naayi, zarur aayegi." Kya hai aaj ke din mein aisa? Tara's demeanor changes as she recalls the incidents that took place in today's date.

22.) She tells BK that today is the day she met HIM (Deva?) and she reveals that he was the only one who made her Tara from 'Phus Tara' (Deflated Star or according to Jio Cinema's caption-'Timid Tara'. Basically an insulting nick name.)

(Lol. See. I got another name. But. Sorry i won't use that coz it triggers her childhood trauma.)

22.) Do I see vengeance there, Tara? Okay. So, we are being taken 15 years back.

23.) Wow. What an a__hole of a brother. He is chasing Tara all over the house with a bunch of crackers (chataai?) Tara is hidden inside the cupboard but she wants to come out because she is scared of darkness and it's all dark inside the cupboard. Ronak bhaiya fools her to come out but lays the chataai bomb and lights it with a matchstick giving her a 'Sehgal Promise'. These Sehgals seem to be too stuck up of a family tho.

Not-So-Fun Fact : God, these are the worst kind of crackers not only coz of the sound but also they keep scattering everywhere, while bursting, once lit. Even I am hell scared of these and always stand at least 1 Km away from these. Lol.

24.) Not knowing better (how would she? she is just a kid of 7-8 something.) Tara trusts her wicked brother, who has already run away to the veneration, steps out of the cupboard but it's too late the crackers keep scattering everywhere and bursting in the meantime and the poor kid is hell scared she starts calling out for her father ("Baba").

25.) Baba is doing aarti of Devi Maiyya (Oh. Hello DM. How are you? How are Khushi-Arnav and their munchkins doing? Lol. Sorry. I get carried away a bit.)

26.) WAIT. WHAT!?!!?!?! Is that the same guy, who was in Sheesh Mahal, on the fashion show night and Khushi came, asked him for directions but instead got to listen to an Urdu Shayari? Wow. See. A crossover we didn't deserve but got anyway. Whatever.

27.) Baba was doing aarti when his hell scared daughter comes and merely touches his back and the veneration plate skips away from his hand. Lol. What kind of a diet Baba takes that he couldn't even handle a gentle push from a mere kid of 7? Whatever.

But the thing that surprises me more is that he is about to lash out at her in front of the whole-family?- bunch of people. This is where I thought that there's some major tiff going on, in the family, like, everyone is against a mere kid.

28.) Baba, your daughter was hell scared, that too, coz of your a__hole of a son. A lil bit of compassion would go a long way. Thank you.

29.) Wow. A__hole father, a__hole brother. Tara. Run. I said. RUN. Whatever. Poor kid. Is getting blamed for the thing that she couldn't have any control of. So. Baba's wife died at childbirth. So. Now. He has got a lifetime license of blaming and punishing his daughter for it. WoW. jUsT. wOw.

30.) Some one please call a gynecologist and enlighten him that it hardly has anything to do with the child but has everything to do with proper timely medical care. Whatever.

31.) OH. She is crying in front her mother's portrait. Asking if she would ever be loved by anyone or not. I so desperately want to go and give her a looooooong jaadu ki jhappi. Uff. I am getting goosebumps now.

32.) She hears a melody being played out from a harmonica and is instantly drawn to its source. She sees, a boy riding a horse named Badshah and carrying balloons on it's saddle. She is kind of intrigued by this boy.

33.) The boy introduces himself as Deva and in the process, mocks Ronak. Ronak is kind of irritated of this boy already and tries to take over the horse and orders BK to light a long-ass chataai (do they have nothing else in the name of crackers? Lol. 'sEhGaLs') But, Deva is frantic and warns not to burst crackers as it will make Badshah go crazy and mocks him again and Ronak pushes him and Deva falls down.

34.) BK, following his master's orders, lights the chataai and Badshah goes crazy, starts running around violently. There is chaos everywhere, somewhere in the midst, Baba also shouts. The horse Badshah is now running towards Tara and Tara is frightened to the core. She freezes at her spot and covers her face ready to face the impact. Deva pulls off a high jump stunt and lands on the horse's back and calms him down in the process.

35.) Deva tries to cheer Tara up and is successful and from there on they both spend time together and thus become hard core friends.

36.) Deva lightens up her world. She smiles more, laughs more, conquers her fears a lil bit more, every time she is with Deva. And one fine day, they both are celebrating Deva's birthday and Tara has brought a cake for him. A candle is perched on its top. Deva lights it up and blows it away to make a wish. But the candle keeps lighting up again and again automatically, this surprises Deva and Tara falls into a pit of laughter and we see grown up Tara laughing in front of BK recalling the incident. This show is really moving something inside me. It's so heart warming tbh.

37.) Ok. So now they are celebrating BK's b'day and she has a cake-cum-aate-ka-halwa. BK lights up a matchstick and the small speck of fire again ignites that trauma in Tara. Poor girl is traumatized on loosing her only best friend.

38.) Tara and BK think that Deva is dead. And, Badshah has been bought by someone in exchange of lakhon rupiye. Altho, Bhojariya ji had a deal with Tara that she would pay him to keep Badshah in the Sehgal Estate but upon getting a greater amount of money, naturally, Bhojariya Ji sells it.

39.) Tara is heart-broken that she could not keep his only belonging safe and so apologizes to Deva (who she thinks is in heaven) and we are instantly taken to a hilltop where we see a man, also in white. So. Deva. He is alive and probably a reech buzinez man, i think? And, now, the plot is quite predictable, Tara will try to take back Badshah from that 'man' and he will in turn not reveal that he is indeed Deva becoz there is some misunderstanding on both of their side. So. He will try to seek revenge from Tara for what he had to go through in the past. As it is clear from the line, "Bohot jal chuka suraj, ab chaand ko jalna hoga." Wow. What a beautiful parallel tho. (Suraj-Deva and Chaand-Tara and also the title of the story makes a lot more sense now.)

40.) Ok. So. Jalebi reminded me that I did not mention Deva's entry scene. So. Yeah. Deva's entry scene, huh? Wow. Yeah. Sirf. Wow. I had literal goosebumps already and then that drone shot from the hilltop. The teapot hanging above the fire. Lol. What a traditional way to make chai amidst nowhere. Btw where did he get chai ki patti from? And what about chini? Cup? Lol. Banda puri taiyyari ke saath aaya tha. So. Yeah. Amazing scene. Handsome Deva. Beautiful white suit. Already swooning.

Not-so-Fun Fact : Damn this reminds me that I have been chai-deprived since yesterday coz chai was finished and no one in our house(as in me and my parents) were bothered enough to bring it from the general store altho we all were very much bothered for not being able to have a cup of chai. uGh. Whatever.

41.) Wow. Wow. Wow. This show has already started to cast its spell on me, to be honest. And it's just the first episode.

P.S. : So. Yeah. Very beautiful. Very very very beautiful indeed. Cinematography wise. Script wise. Costume wise. Look wise. Everything is perfect for Chaand Jalne Laga. TBH I was underestimating this show but it indeed is beautiful. Please do give it watch. Ok. Then. Bye. God bless you.

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probssomethingorother · 1 year ago

Text

🚨 NEW CHAPTER! 🚨

I said I was going to turn this out and I did! Whoop whoop. Unfortunately, I have done barely any review on it so good luck folks. Will go back and make fixes soon. Feel free to call out anything glaring/jarring. @eedsknees gave me the idea to include (SPOILER) some nightmare content, so they are lowkey responsible for jump starting the writing process on this one.

Back & Forth: a the last of us fic

post-episode 8 Silver Lake hurt/comfort

Ellie & Joel, both riding the struggle bus, canon compliant

Rating: Mature for dark themes, nothing more than the show

It was Joel who stumbled first. He had felt the strength seeping out of him with every step so viscerally it was like his body was a container with a slow leak. His gate would falter and his hand would slip further down her shoulder, power waning. He would cough in his throat and blink forcefully trying to reignite the spark of energy that had carried him to Ellie just hours ago, but it was all a losing battle. And eventually, he lost it. It was Ellie who moved first after that.

chp 1 | chp 2 | chp 3 | chp 4 | chp 5 | chp 6 | chp 7 | chp 8 / chp 8 |

chp 9 !!! YAY !!

read on Ao3 with the link above or below the cut, and remember comment where you can! <3

Chapter 9: (warning not proof read, will do that in the AM)

A lifetime ago, he was warned that raising a teenager - a teen girl at that - was going to be one of the hardest things he was going to live through. Joel had just started into the moody teenage years with Sarah before he lost her, they had their small arguments here and there, but really hadn’t quite hit that point where she was talking back, slamming doors, walking away, or giving him the silent treatment. Still, he had done all the mental preparation for the day his teenage girl would suddenly start putting him to the test, but he never thought in a million years that the teenage girl doing it was not going to be his Sarah. No, it was Ellie.

Ellie, who had gone from pouting in silence on the couch to fitfully falling back asleep. From his spot a few feet away, Joel had first thought she was muttering under her breath, talking through something and trying to vent her frustrations, but then he noticed the way her body rose and sank rhythmically. Still turned away from him, he couldn’t see her face to confirm, but after countless nights of looking over her while he took watch, he knew her breathing patterns like a parent knowing their child’s distinct cries.

She was asleep, and deeply; unfortunately, it just wasn’t peacefully.

For a long few minutes, Joel waited in the wingback chair, knee bouncing as he debated how long to let the restlessness go on before intervening. Hunched over with his arms on his knees, he wrung out his hands as he watched each one of her breaths and acutely listened in for what was slipping from her mouth, even turning his head so his good ear pointed more in her direction.

Over the months together he had seen her have a few occasionally, but he had never woken her, and eventually, she did always settle. But now, this just felt different. She had been struggling in her waking hours, it seemed cruel to also let her suffer in her sleep.

“I’m not…don’t,” she softly muttered. The words were more distinct than much of the rest that had been coming from her, and the sense of desperation behind them was painfully evident.

Sighing, Joel stood up with a groan and silently moved closer to her. The blankets were still tightly wrapped around her, constricting her movements to small twitches of her body, clearly unable to manage anything more against the weighty fabric. Her hair splayed across the cushion and fell down her back, which just made Joel realize it now was fully out of its normal ponytail, elastic lost somewhere - maybe forever. In the soft light of the fire, her hair looked almost golden. However, it also meant its tangles and mats were highlighted, strands clumped and bunched in weird spots.

“No….stop…no,” Ellie cried out again, still a soft and breathy slew of words, her body twitching again before settling.

For a moment, it actually looked like she might be calming for good, heavy breaths petering out for a second; so Joel hesitated before making any further moves, hand lingering just above her shoulder. From above, he could now see more of her face. It was contorted with a tightness, brows pushed together and jaw clenched. It looked like she was trying to turn it more into the cushion, hide it away from something, but she could only push in so much into the fabric without smothering herself - even her unconscious body seemed to know that.

Wherever she was, or whatever she was seeing, in her head, couldn’t be anything good.

Suddenly, Ellie’s breathing hitched, a whimper escaping her lips, her eyes fluttering beneath her lids as she relived whatever terror she was experiencing. “Please…,” she whispered.

The sounds tore at Joel's heart.

Enough was enough.

Taking a deep breath, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder, trying to shake her awake, “Hey…hey, Ellie. Wake up,” he murmured, voice thick with concern.

But his soft murmurs only seemed to increase her unease. Her breathing grew more rapid, each exhale punctuated by a soft whimper of distress.

"Ellie.." Joel tried again, placing more pressure on her shoulder to tip her onto her back. Her body complied, and she was now supine, but that also only seemed to make things worse for her. The whimpers started to get caught in her throat, her face screwing up like she was about to cry.

"Kiddo, time to wake up," Joel said, a little more sternly as he brought a gentle hand to the top of her head in a small gesture of comfort. It was an old instinct, something he used to do for Sarah when she was too afraid to sleep- gently caressing the top of her head, brushing back her beautiful curls to lull her down. (He later learned she should be in a bonnet when she slept, hair tucked away, but oh well).

He brushed back some of Ellie’s hair too, trying not to get distracted by how utterly dirty it was, bits sticking together by something, making it feel almost crunchy.

“Ple….don’t….that’s…you’re hurting mmm….”

She sounded like she was talking to someone now, and just being in proximity to it made Joel riddled with guilt as if he was the one it was directed at. With another soft sigh, Joel’s hand trailed down her head, past her shoulder, and onto her arm, giving it a squeeze. The move was a bad choice.

Ellie's body immediately jerked away from him, eyes shooting open in terror, as her arm flung out in a wild, blind attempt to get the touch off her.

Her hand connected solidly with the most vulnerable part of Joel- her loose fist hitting his barely stitched-together stab wound, dead center.

Ellie’s hand was tiny, but even so, it fucking hurt so bad. Time seemed to freeze, the sheer intensity of the pain anchoring Joel in agonizing stillness before the sensation hit him in full, like a tidal wave. He saw stars, the bright flecks dancing in front of his eyes as every nerve in his body screamed in agony. It felt like a thousand needles were being driven into his side, radiating outwards in a hot, searing wave of pinpricks that washed through his body from head to toe.

He stumbled back with an unstable step, knocking into the edge of the coffee table before trying to catch himself, only for his legs to do the opposite and give out beneath him. He crumpled to the floor with a deep pained groan, voice ragged and raw, landing with a thump.

For a very long moment, the world seemed distant, muffled, as if he was underwater as he sat still on the floor, hands not even able to clutch at the spot, just ghosting above it. For that same very long moment, Ellie’s eyes stayed fixed wide, now with a different form of terror as she came to terms with what she had just done. Both rattled by the sudden change of events, everything became eerily still between them as the room turned scarily quiet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, played on repeat in Ellie’s head, until finally she was was scrambling to sit up, blankets tangling around her, restricting her movements. With a frustrated groan, she yanked and kicked them away, tossing them angrily aside as she popped off the couch, desperate to check on Joel.

She almost tripped and fell down too, feet getting caught up in the pile of discarded fabric on the floor. The stumble became a somewhat coordinated descent, and she dropped to her knees at his side.

”Oh God, Fuck, fuck, Joel?,” Ellie stammered, her voice laden with guilt. She knelt anxiously beside him, hands hovering, unsure of where to touch, or how to help. His eyes were squinted, brow furrowed, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead. He looked as he did when she first put him on that dingy mattress in the basement, just constipated with pain. It made her want to vomit knowing she was now the one to cause it this time.

Still filled with lingering anxiety from her nightmares, Ellie’s body was cracking under all the emotion, tears pricking at her waterline. She fluttered her eyes quickly, trying to get it to stop, but the longer she stared down at Joel the more she felt the tears threaten to spill over.

“Joel? Dude..what- tell me what I can do,” she stumbled out desperately.

Joel could barely register her voice much less what she was saying. A ringing in his ears was now taking over making everything just seem a bit staticky. His eyes wandered around the ceiling for a second before screwing shut, trying to stave off an incoming wave of dizziness.

He couldn’t understand why it hurt so bad, why a hit less than a punch had literally knocked him on his ass.

God fuck if she was able to do this, how was he going to defend them against anything if something did happen?

He groaned then, but from the thought of his inability not the pain. The pain was on a level that far surpassed groans.

“Okay..okay just,” Ellie began, taking his shaky hovering hands and moving them away, “let me look. I’m sorry.. sorry.. sorry,” she finished, biting at her lip as she slowly tried to raise his shirt to see the damage she had caused.

But Joel wasn’t going to let her feel bad for this. Certainly wasn’t going to allow her to make it her responsibility to fix him again. Absolutely not.

Despite the waves of pain that threatened to overwhelm him, Joel managed to open his eyes. Through the haze, he saw Ellie's panicked face, her deep brown eyes wide with fear.

She had barely gotten his shirt up, it sticking to him with dried blood. "S'okay," he rasped, bringing a hand up to push down the fabric and stop her before she could get much further. "Don’t," slipped out, although he had been going for “don’t worry.”

Ellie stopped moving, but didn’t release the grip on his shirt, worried now that anything she would do would just make it worse. “I- okay - just what - how? What do you need?”

Realizing his poor attempt at speaking before had only made her more anxious, Joel didn’t rush into replying this time. He took a long breath in and out, controlled through his mouth. It made his stomach produce a deep pain when his diaphragm filled and released the air, chest cavity rising and deflating. He pushed his head further back into the cold ground, trying to focus on a different sort of feeling than something beside his side.

“Just gimme…a second.” He pushed out, words complete and mostly steady this time.

Ellie bit her lip, regret evident in her eyes. Releasing his shirt, and with a deep exhale she sat back on her heels, giving Joel space but still close enough to assist him if he needed.

She couldn’t believe she had fucking hurt him. He was still fucking fragile and she really could have done some damage - she knew it. It wasn’t like she had given him world-class first aid in the first place.

“Did I get your stitches?” She asked with apprehension. They were probably so fucked.

“Ellie.” Her name reverberated through the sparsely furnished room, the sound trailing out shakily from a Joel. He might as well have just said, “shut up,” because somehow that’s what it sounded like to Ellie’s ears.

Silence started and dragged on then for several moments as they both waited for Joel’s pain began to recede, neither moving much at all. Every so often there was a small sniffle as Ellie tried to bite back tears.

Joel's voice, rough and filled with exhaustion, broke the monotony.

“Already feeling better,” he offered, after the third sniffle. Ellie had been trying to hide being on the brink of crying, but there wasn’t much space between them for things to be going unheard.

With a roll of her eyes and a huff, she wiped at them with the back of her hands.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying…I’m not a fricken crybaby,” she mumbled, clearly frustrated with herself. Joel hummed in agreement as he began to reposition himself, more focused on not causing himself any more pain than producing a reply to her.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Cause you don’t look okay…” Ellie pushed anxiously, trying to get the focus back on him.

“I’m fine. Just caught me off guard is all.”

They both knew that was a bit of an oversimplification and by the look on Ellie’s face, she wasn’t too happy with his attempt to brush this under the carpet.

"It wasn't your fault," Joel murmured, pushing himself to a sitting position with a wince. Every movement he made seemed to be a battle, a very annoying struggle against the pain that radiated from his side. "You were just reacting... to something else…. probably my fault anyhow.”

Joel's eyes inadvertently flicked down to Ellie's bare thighs, the blue-black hues of bruises evident even in the dim light, as she knelt next to him. He had noticed them earlier, but the immediate crisis then had pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind. Now, they came flooding back, mind zoning out as his gaze lingered on the red flags that marred her body.

She had been reacting to something else.

“I said don’t touch me motherfucker!”

Broken pants.

“Don’t do it, please don’t do it.”

Scratches on her waistline.

“you’re hurting-”

Begging, even in her sleep.

“Please don’t.”

"Quit staring," Ellie muttered with a hint of bitterness. Drawn from spiraling thoughts, Joel’s eye flicked back up to hers, filled with a genuine concern, and a bit of remorse.

"I wasn’t—“

“You were," she cut him off, her voice filled turning to something else, a mix of exhaustion and defiance as she pulled down her sweatshirt the best she could to cover her thighs. It barely did a thing.

”Let me see your side," she said, moving toward his shirt once more. He held out a hand, stopping her.

He wasn’t going to let her keep avoiding this.

“Tit for tat - you wanna check on me, I wanna check on you,” Joel rasped, his voice carrying an edge of firmness, making it clear that this was really non-negotiable even if presenting it as such.

Ellie’s jaw clenched. “I’m fine,” she said sternly.

“You ain’t,” he countered, eyes again flicking down to her legs, purposefully this time, brows raised before he came back to meet her eyes. They were as terse as he’d ever seen.

They darted away from his view as she muttered, "It's nothing,” her voice low, but Joel caught the slight tremor in it.

“It ain’t 'nothing'," he pressed firmly.

With an irritated exhale, Ellie rose as her eyes rolled. She stared down at him for a long moment before shooting her hand out for him to grab.

Joel looked at it, and then at her, and then back to it. He hadn’t really anticipated getting up this soon, but he wasn’t going to deny the hand she was extending, metaphorical or physical. He hoped that despite the anger her face showed, the gesture was as much about reconciliation as it was assistance.

Of course, he wouldn’t be so lucky.

With more force than he thought she capable, Ellie helped him move to stand, pulling him vertically and giving him a tight grip to sink into it. She didn’t say a word about the heavy groan that ripped through his body during it all or the way his strong grasp made the cut on the side of her hand burn. She turned away her head from his as he made his way up, not wanting to meet his gaze, and not wanting him to see the way she was making her own body ache with the effort of supporting him. Head drooping toward the floor, she stayed by his side for a moment as he panted through the residual pain, bent at the waist just slightly his free hand on his hip. When he seemed steady enough, Ellie slipped her hand from his, giving it a little shake to rid the irritation in her fingers from his clenched hold.

Marching back to the couch, she aggressively snatched the blankets off the ground and plopped herself onto the worn cushions with a glare and a huff, deliberately positioning the university quilts over her legs to hide it all away.

“Fuck you,” she spat stoically as her body hunched down, arms crossing over her chest.

It had flipped so easily inside her, the switch back to anger and frustration, that it was almost catching her own self off guard. Her stomach felt like it was hanging low, her muscles were all tense, her throat was aching to scream, and her body desperately just felt like picking up the closest thing and heaving it across the room.

She bit the impulse back, stifled down the brewing aggression and frustration - but just barely.

The last time she let herself get swept up in the same feelings a man’s head became sludge on the carpet. Ellie knew she wouldn’t do that to Joel - ever - but she also didn’t want to go anywhere near the emotions that she knew could fuel that sort of thing.

But, that was much harder said than done. And right now, her mind and heart were at odds, unsure of which was actually in control, but either way, one was telling her to make Joel hurt. To make him sad and angry. To make him feel the way she was suddenly starting to again.

“You took off my pants.”

The regret was immediate as she spat the words out with venom, but there was also a sweet satisfaction that came afterward, when the words hung heavy in the air, when the look on his face told her she had it - that soft spot inside of him, that protector persona - easily crushed.

“Ellie..”

She shouldn’t be doing this, not to him, none of this was his fault, but for some reason, she couldn’t make herself stop.

“You wouldn’t’ve even known… I never said you could do that, ” she muttered, eyes narrowing.

The color drained from Joel’s face, and for a moment he looked as if he was about to topple over again. He sucked in a long breath, a deep feeling of culpability settling in his heart. It was almost more painful than Ellie’s hand connecting with his wound just moments before - actually, he might prefer round two of that now, then this, or whatever this was shaping up to be.

He knew what he did, knew it had been necessary, but it made him feel dirty all the same. She didn’t have to do much to bring out the guilt when he already felt ashamed.

Slowly, Joel turned and eased himself into the wingback, taking up refuge in the same spot he had watched her battle through the nightmare earlier - a nightmare he was suddenly worried was somehow about him.

Head low, forearms resting on his thighs, palms, and hands anxiously rubbing together, he ground his teeth back and forth, her screams echoing in his ears once again.

A blip of his large hands encircling her tiny bruised wrists as he moved them away, came to mind, coming back to haunt him like he knew it would when had done it. He hummed at the thought, wondering for a second if perhaps he had done something wrong.

Rushed through it, overstepped, and caused more harm than good.

But then thought of how she was fading in and out, how she shaking - so badly - how her skin was like ice - might as well have been a dead body, cold like a corpse.

Joel nodded his head up and down, convincing himself of what he already knew.

There were lots to feel guilty over, but this couldn’t be one of them.

Anxiously, he raised his head and met hers, trying to read her face and not her words. Ellie’s expression was one filled with contempt, but her eyes held a completely different story - a kid broken and scared.

She was hurting, and if the look in her eyes wasn’t enough, the bruises on her face and the blood splatter still staining her complexion were more than enough of a pointed reminder that Joel needed to tread lightly even if she was marching full steam ahead, raging at the world - at him.

She was doing this on purpose, pushing him, but he wouldn’t push her - couldn’t.

He thought back to before, when he came rushing back into the living room fearing she had slipped away in the few moments he had taken to get the blankets. He remembered the small smile on her face when he made his way into her sights, and how she cracked open his heart with her candid confession:

“I’m always gonna come back.”

“I like when you do.”

Centering himself on that memory, and not her screams, Joel ran a hand down the length of his face before brushing it back and forth against the scruff of his beard. He let out a long sigh, a little worried he was about to say the wrong thing.

"I had to..." he began, his voice coming out more as a gravelly murmur than anything else. He stopped, swallowed hard, and tried again. "You were freezin’..." he said remorsefully, but pointedly, a statement of fact and an apology, side by side.

Ellie nodded with a blank expression, purposefully trying to keep her face deadpan. She didn’t remember all that much, but she wasn’t stupid - logically, she knew that’s what happened.

That hadn’t been the point of bringing it up.

“You couldn’t do it yourself, so I had’ta.”

“I told you to stop,” she countered.

Truthfully, she still didn’t remember much of the whole ordeal, but bits were coming back slowly. There were some moments, vague, but there, she could use against him if she wanted - paint a certain image, true or not. All she could see was her arms and hands pushing against his, small fists banging against his forearms, yelling at him.

Her gaze found the fire for a moment, landing on the red and orange licks of flames, just past his shoulder.

Hands pushing against his, small fists banging against his forearms, red carpet, flames.

“…I was yelling and you kept going…” she said, almost absently, head somewhere else for a twinkle of a second.

She gulped down a growing lump in her throat as her eyes quickly flicked back to Joel, and with a few blinks cleared the images of him away.

Joel opened his mouth to reply but shut it quickly, giving her a nod instead. She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either.

In the very back of Ellie’s head, a small voice was screaming at her to not be an idiot. To stop whatever this was, now, before she took it too far. That he wasn’t him. That this is leftover aggression stuck inside, threatening to ruin something good.

But she couldn’t.

Her jaw clenched tighter as her eyes went hard and steely. Her head was really starting to throb again, and the hot feeling that had been in her gut was now starting to travel up her body, making her throat tight as it also ushered in a bit of nausea.

She was seething so much that she was making herself sick from the intensity of it all. And for what?

She wiggled in her seat, hands going to grip the sides of the couch, knuckles going white, as she lowered her head to stare at the floor, wondering why he wasn’t getting mad like she thought he would.

“I know, you were..” Joel confirmed, hoping that not denying, or trying to belittle it would somehow make this better for her.

He was able to see her demeanor going colder and colder with every moment she sat on the couch, coming to slow a boil like a pot on a stove. Part of him did want to defend himself and go toe to toe with her - it was only natural - but a bigger part of him just wanted to gather her up in another hug and just never let go. Make her emotions quell, stop the roiling.

"I know what your doin'..." he said, shaking his head, "I know you don't mean what you're sayin’."

"I - ah ..," Ellie stuttered, not expecting to be called out. ”Asshole," she said, trying to recover, albeit not strongly, before tumbling along, words spilling from her mouth. “You’re an asshole, and you - if you gave a shit about me then, you wouldn’t have -“

“- Hey now…“ Joel interjected quickly, a grovel in his voice clearly revealing that his calm exterior was cracking away, her words now hitting him with a certain potency. Ellie’s voice trailed off at the sound of his, focus going to watching the change in his body language, his shoulders tensing, eyes moving away, hand rubbing at his thigh.

Of course, he gave a shit about her. After everything?

She really wasn’t making this easy, and now the underlying guilt that still coursed in his veins - that was practically a part of him now - even though he knew it was misplaced - was turning to frustration, and frustration into precarious anger.

And Ellie knew it too, and now she couldn’t hold back. She wanted to pry that spark of anger from behind his eyes and ignite it. Light it on fire like that fucking restaurant.

“Would you have done that to Sa-“

“Enough.” Joel spat, jaw tight, eyes hard.

Sarah.

It was a low blow, even for Ellie.

His heart was thumping in his chest, whooshing in his ears. He knew where the sentence was going the minute, it was coming out of her, and he couldn’t let it stand. He had sidestepped what she had been insulting the entire time - the dark impropriety of it all - because it was just so far from the truth that it wasn’t even worth playing into. But now, bring up something like that, almost accusing him, with his daughter…no. It crossed a line.

With a deep inhale, Joel pushed himself off the chair the pain of it all buried monetarily under his own indignation, only a small wince escaping. The old wood creaked under him, the sound echoing the tension in the room. With a slow-paced stride, his leather boots thudded against the floor, the rhythmic sound resonating through the still air, each deliberate step echoing ominously. His fists were balled tightly as he sad and his face stern.

Ellie watched as he got closer, content that she had finally pushed him over the edge.

She hated herself, but not just for this.

Coming to a still directly in front of her, he lowly began, “You don’t-,” he dragged in a long breath, “you don’t bring her anywhere in this….that ain’t right, and you know it.”

His intention wasn’t to be intimidating - just firm, but standing above her as he was, was a little bit menacing. Ellie gave him a slow nod, eyes looking forward, not up towards him. Her quickening pulse was echoing in her ears, mouth getting a little watery with apprehension.

Joel looked anywhere but down towards her, not wanting to show her any more anger than he already had let slip out. His fingers ran against his palms, still tightly screwed together, as his eyes wandered around the area behind the couch, scanning the kitchen, hoping to use it mundanity as a means to steady himself.

Exhaling through his nose, Joel took a long step back, and then another away, turning his back toward Ellie.

God, bringing his Sarah up like that, now. What was she thinkin’?

Drawing his head up to the ceiling, he called back to that feeling in his gut when he woke up alone in the basement. That feeling in his chest, when he thought he was about to find her body a the end of a trail of blood. That feeling in his heart, when she fell into his arm, scared as all hell.

He shook his head. Ellie was his too.

An oppressive silence stretched between them, the weight of unsaid words becoming almost palpable as Joel swayed back and forth on the balls of his feet, debating what to say, how to carry on. It was clear she was just lashing out, generally, but he couldn't let it all slide. Not that easily.

"Trauma ain't a hall pass" - Tommy told him that once.

Sucking in a final long breath, hands going to his hips, Joel turned to face Ellie.

“I know I wasn’t there. But I got to eyes. And I know somethin’ happened to you. And if this is - was? - you tryin’ to make sense about that then, fine. Spit whatever you want at me, okay? Hit me, yell at me, I don’t care…I’ll take it.. I deserve that…cause that’s on me for leaving you alone.” His voice was eerily steady, low, and coarse like how Ellie knew it when he was barking orders at her, way back at the beginning of their journey together. The tenderness that he had exhibited since coming back together seemed to be gone, even though his words painted a different picture. For better of worse, this was the Joel she knew.

“But listen to me. I’m serious Ellie - Listen here.” Joel waited for Ellie to look up and meet his eyes. When she did so, he continued. “Sarah stays far out of it.”

Ellie didn’t make a move, a little stunned by the way he seemed to have his emotions under control, especially after she had expected so much more.

He was going to end it at that, but a nagging voice in the back of his head told him he might as well dot all his ‘I’s and cross his ’T’s too.

“And to be clear, I didn’t do anythin’, would never, do anythin’ to you- like what you were getting at.. makes me sick just thinking about it,” his tone was serious, yet his words danced around the hard topic like he wasn’t confident using the real words for it. His mouth turned down as the thought of it stayed in his brain, festering for a moment before fading out.

The look in his eyes had Ellie swallowing back some guilt, tears even beginning to prick at her waterline again.

Joel's hand came to his neck, rubbing away the much-accumulated tension, while looking around the room to search for something else to focus on. His eyes landed on her again - how could they not - and he paused. Blood, bruises, brewing with anger. He could fix some of that.

His eyes went to the pot of water still resting on the coffee table after all this time and then over toward the hallway.

He cleared his throat. “Now, I’m gonna go see if there ain’t something around here to clean you up with.”

It’s said with genuine care, but it's not hard to read that perhaps it’s also a distraction - a misdirection- to take away from the fraught way the conversation had come to a close.

Joel scooted past the couch with a slight limp, heading toward the hallway and out the room, leaving Ellie sitting alone.

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