#or to avoid hearing my parents fight again and again and again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nadvs · 1 year ago

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home before dark (part four)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

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Rafe is being selfish again. When he offered to sleep in your room, it was so you’d feel safe. But that wasn’t entirely why he did it.

He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t for him, too. Something about being around you gives him a sense of quiet when he’s so used to noise.

It’s disorienting feeling a pull to someone he used to avoid, but life stopped making sense to him a long time ago, so why try to find the logic?

Rafe collects the blanket and pillow from the guest bed he slept on last night, figuring he’ll just sleep on your floor.

The way he touched you earlier tonight is playing like a song in his head. When did he get so soft? He’s hardly ever sober for this long. It must be messing with him. It was just a kiss on your cheek, but his heart pounds when he thinks about it.

Then you noticed his gun and looked at him with such disgust that he knows you’d be horrified to learn what his mind sounds like these days. To learn how much anger he has burning through his veins. You’d run in the opposite direction.

You told him you’ve never said anything bad about him. He’d like to keep it that way. So he’ll take all this fake stuff and enjoy it from a distance, far enough removed from you to avoid taking any risks.

You’ve been tucked into bed for a few minutes when Rafe comes through your open door, darkness filling every corner of the room.

After you accepted his offer downstairs, you parted tensely, as if either of you had said one wrong word, the agreement to sleep in your room together would lose all legitimacy.

Rafe’s tall figure quietly makes a bed on the floor a few feet away. He lets out a low grunt when he lies down, turned away from you.

You stare at his back, thinking about how he said whatever you did wrong wasn’t on purpose. You should probably let it go. He’ll never talk about it. But the curiosity is relentless.

After a few minutes of watching Rafe turn from his back to his side over and over, you break the silence.

“Is your brain doing it again?” you ask. Your voice makes the knot in his chest loosen.

“What?” he rasps.

“Is it not turning off?”

He doesn’t respond. You talked about this hours ago at the party, but it stayed with you. He’s not used to this much attention on him. He usually has to fight for it.

“If it isn’t, maybe I could bore you to sleep,” you offer.

“I bet you could.” A second later, Rafe feels a pillow you threw from your bed hit his chest and roll beside him. He smirks in the dark.

You clarify, “I meant I could distract you.”

“For real this time? I don’t need another interrogation.” You love that you can hear a smile in his voice and hate that you can’t see it. Little by little, he’s acting like your friend again.

“Since when is asking one question an interrogation?” Last night, all you did was ask why he was helping you.

“See?”

“Oh, my God,” you sigh with a laugh. “Okay, let me think… I can tell you about the errands I ran today?”

“I’ll be out cold in a minute.” You laugh again and Rafe smiles up at the ceiling. Making you feel safe feels good. Making you laugh like that feels even better.

“Rude,” you say. “Pass me that pillow so I can throw it at you again.”

In the dark, you watch him reach for the pillow on the floor and tuck it under his arm. You breathe out a chuckle.

You pull your duvet up to your chin, unable to believe that the same Rafe who ignored your every attempt to talk, who wouldn’t even hold eye contact with you, is on the floor of your room, joking around with you.

You start to ramble about the shopping you did after he left your house this morning, getting into every menial detail, down to the long line at the gas station.

At first, Rafe can’t imagine falling asleep to this. Your voice humming through the dark is soothing and even though you’re trying to make your story boring, he’s interested.

But eventually, his eyelids get heavier. You’re dozing off, too, but it’s not until you hear his breaths grow deeper that you allow yourself to succumb to the fatigue.

Your senses are blurred and bleeding into each other like paint on a messy canvas, and while you’re confused, you know one thing for sure: you’re terrified.

Ty’s behind the wheel and the car is barreling down the busy freeway at a vicious speed. It’s storming and he’s laughing and you can’t scream. You can’t even speak.

Anne’s car is coming right for yours and Ty won’t slow down no matter how hard you try to gain control of the wheel and you brace for impact, but suddenly you’re in your fifth grade class and you’re crying and everyone is staring at you.

You wake up to big hands holding your shoulders, gently shaking you. A low and soft voice whispers your name, coaxing you to wake up.

Your eyes open to see Rafe standing over you in the dark and you realize your cheeks are wet with tears. Consciousness slowly wraps around you. It was a nightmare.

Your adrenaline pushes you to sit up, your chest heaving. His hands drop off of you, but he’s still standing and leaning over your bed, inches away.

“Bad dream?” he asks over the sound of your shallow breaths. Your whimpers are what woke him up. Hearing you crying in your sleep like that was painful.

You rub both eyes with your knuckles and try to catch up with reality.

“I was in the car with Ty and he was driving too fast and then I saw your mom-” You immediately shut up. In your fog, you forgot what you’re allowed to say and what you’re not, and by the way Rafe stands straight, you know you messed up.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching for his hand. His fingers are still and don’t curl around yours. The fact that you pull him towards you shows just how disoriented you are. “Can you sleep up here?”

“What?”

“Can you sleep up here?” you mumble dazedly. Rafe’s already sinking onto the mattress before you finish asking your repeated question.

You turn to face him when he lies down. You curl into a ball, your hand still gripping his as you try to breathe slower. You remember your other pillow is on the floor and you lift your head to shift your pillow to the middle so that he can rest his head on it, too.

Rafe stares ahead, listening to your fast breathing and his loud heartbeat. He’s struck that even when you’re in a half-asleep trance, your instinct is to make sure he’s comfortable.

And to ask him to lie next to you. To be close when there’s nobody around to prove your pretend relationship to. You actually find comfort in him. He thought he was starting to find it in you, too, but then you mentioned her.

You shudder when Rafe’s hand twists out from yours, losing the anchor reminding you that none of it was real. But then you realize he did it to put his palm on your cheek.

“You’re good,” he reassures you. He frowns when he feels a tear on your skin. “It’s alright.”

You nod under his touch, your eyes shut, swallowing hard and cupping his wrist. He’s still trembling from withdrawal.

The dream took you to when you were ten and Rafe’s desk was empty and your teacher told the class he lost his mom a couple of nights ago, so you’d spend the period making sympathy cards for him.

It’s important we show him he’s not alone, she said and you were so upset that you didn’t know how to do that when you were supposed to be best friends. You stared at a blank piece of paper for long enough that your teacher told you that you could work on something else.

You did eventually make him a card. And you visited. And you called. And you tried talking to him over and over.

But nothing you did or said was ever good enough. He shut everybody out and you were no exception. Maybe someone else would be mad at him for it, but you couldn’t ever find it in your heart to be. You still can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you say into the dark, wishing he knew just how heavy the pain you carry for him is. You feel frantic now, the emotions washing over you with no mercy, as if you just learned she died all over again. “I’m sorry for everything. You were just a kid-”

“Don’t,” Rafe interrupts. “Just sleep.”

You sniffle and he swears he can feel his heart crack but he can’t indulge you. He can’t open the wound he pretends isn’t still bleeding. He can’t talk about how his life crumbled into ruins and he’s still sitting in the rubble.

He lost his mother, his security, and eventually his mind, and there’s no point in talking about what he can never get back.

Rafe’s hand slips off of your cheek but your fingers remain wrapped around his wrist. He lets you keep holding onto him as you fall back asleep.

The sunlight is coming through slitted blinds when Rafe’s eyes open. He couldn’t see your room last night, but now that he can study the space that is so you, his mind starts racing.

You’re asleep next to him, head tilted towards him on the pillow you’re sharing. He gazes over your pretty features, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips.

How could someone so sweet hurt him so fucking bad? Last night was brutal. You mentioning his mom without any warning was like a sharp jolt of electricity. He was an idiot to think he could find comfort in you.

You’ll always remind him of it. Of the helplessness and the horror and the agony. He can’t handle it. Even if you never talk about it again, your presence alone is a reminder.

You shuffle awake and reach out for him, but his side of the bed is cold. He’s not on the floor, either. You look out the window to see his motorcycle is still where he parked it last night.

When you come down to the front room, Rafe is in the same chair he sat in the night of the storm, grudgingly playing with his ring, staring ahead with a hard frown.

He sees you and immediately stands up, eyes darting away from you like the last few days didn’t happen at all. All his coldness is back.

“Finally,” he grunts. You watch him stalk past you with screwed up lips. “Lock the door behind me.”

You realize he was waiting for you to wake up. And now he’s acting like you’re contagious with something he’d rather die than catch, rushing out of your home, triggering the alarm when he opens the front door.

You follow him to punch the code into the security system and then quickly open the door he closed, watching him stride down the steps towards his bike.

You’re in a haze. Last night, he held you so gently and you fell asleep inches away from each other. This morning, he can’t get away fast enough.

It’s what you said. You mentioned his mom. You knew it was out of bounds, but you were so frightened and disoriented and spoke without thinking.

“Wait,” you say to his back. But Rafe continues on his way, making you feel just like you did in your nightmare. You’re speaking but it’s like nothing is coming out.

“Please don’t go back to ignoring me,” you call louder, a shake in your voice. This makes him pause. You swing the door shut behind you and close the distance, stepping out into the brisk morning air.

You face him and he looks absolutely wrecked. Guilt digs its sharp claws into your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I was out of it.”

Rafe stares down at the paved ground, his jaw tightening.

“You’re always gonna remind me,” he mutters.

His sentence is simple, but it carries the weight of your broken friendship. It hits you that you could never mention the past again, not a single memory or anything about his loss, and it still wouldn’t be enough. You’re a constant reminder.

“That’s why you never wanted anything to do with me?” you say. Rafe looks at you again. Your eyes have lost all their light.

It’s just a part of the reason the bridge between you can’t ever be rebuilt, but talking about it with you is torture, so he’ll let you believe that that’s all there is to it.

“You can go,” you say quietly, stepping back. If being with you just brings back painful memories to him, you won’t subject him to it any longer.

Every muscle in Rafe’s body aches as he drives home. His head is hammering with pain and his bones weigh a million pounds and he’d kill for a hit of anything right now. He needs the escape.

Just when he thought he found a place to slow down, you reminded him of why he’s always running. As soon as he’s sure your ex is done bothering you, he’s out.

As you watch Rafe drive away, the gate opens when the sensor detects a vehicle leaving the property, and you notice the mailbox is open.

You pick up the mail to see an envelope with your name handwritten on it. Panicked, you rush back inside, locking the door. You know it’s Ty, finding yet another way to contact you.

You would’ve noticed the mailbox was open when you got home with Rafe last night. He did this overnight or early this morning.

When you finally find the courage to read his letter, dread forces its way into your body so roughly that you’re not sure you’ll ever feel happy again.

You feel some relief when Sarah texts in the group chat a couple of hours later asking if anyone wants to go shopping. It’s the distraction you need.

It’s late afternoon when you meet her and your mutual friend Lia at the mall, trying to get your mind off of Rafe’s coldness and Ty’s persistence and your own pain.

Afterwards, Sarah invites you both to her house and soon, the three of you are sitting in her room, chatting and listening to music.

The door is open and when a figure passes by, you look up to see Rafe. He glances at you for a second, then goes right back to ignoring you, continuing on his way without another second of hesitation.

When he got home, he took a couple of shots before he fell asleep in his bed. He woke up still partly buzzed and he can’t handle seeing or talking to you right now.

Sarah shakes her head in the corner of your eye. She noticed him, too.

“Jesus, Rafe, that’s how you treat your girlfriend?” she half-shouts. Two pairs of eyes land on you as your friends await your reaction.

“We’re in a fight,” you say, anxious that the topic has come up and that you’ll have to lie your way through it.

“Already? Didn’t you just start dating?” Lia says.

“Yeah, it’s sad,” you say with a downcast laugh.

Rafe chews on his thumbnail as he kneels against the hallway wall. He should’ve kept walking, but he’s secretly hanging onto your every word.

“I still can’t believe you guys are together,” she says. “I didn’t even know you liked him.”

“I did,” Sarah laughs. You look at her with wide eyes. “Come on, you never let anyone say anything bad about him.”

“Why do you?” Your eyes jump to Lia.

“Why do I what?” you say, trying to play it off.

“Like him,” Lia replies.

You figure while all of this is a sham, you can at least answer this question with full honesty.

“He takes care of me,” you say. You think about how you laughed together in your bedroom last night. “And I have fun with him.”

Regret gnaws at Rafe. Even though you’re upset with him, you still speak of him kindly. His growing feelings for you would be so much easier to get rid of if you were like everybody else, writing him off, calling him psycho.

“Yeah, you look like you’re having a lot of fun,” Lia replies with a playful nudge, trying to bring some humor to the room. “Seriously, are you okay? You seem off.”

You believe it. Your mind doesn’t feel any clearer since last night’s nightmare.

“I’m really freaked out because of Ty,” you admit.

“It’s crazy that he’s still bothering you,” Sarah says.

“It is. He won’t stop. I saw footprints outside my front door last night and I think they were his. That would mean he found a way around the gate,” you tell them. “And then there was a letter from him in my mailbox this morning. It was so creepy.”

Rafe’s body stiffens.

“God, that’s like stalker level,” Lia says. “What’d it say?”

The sound of Rafe saying your name interrupts you. You look up to see him standing in the doorway, staring at you. He cocks his head, silently beckoning you to come out.

When you face him in the corner of the hallway, far from Sarah’s room, you cross your arms and let him start the conversation.

“That asshole left you a letter?” Rafe mutters quietly. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Embarrassment turns in your stomach. He was eavesdropping.

“You wouldn’t have answered,” you reply.

“Yeah, I would’ve,” he says sternly. “What’d he write?”

You bite your bottom lip in anguish, choking back your tears.

You’re clearly shaken up. Rafe’s protective instinct overpowers him. He grasps your arm, squeezing gently, giving into his every impulse around you like he always does. You breathe slowly, eyes darting away.

“What did he write?” he repeats. His hand is so warm, a hard contrast from how cold you know he can be.

Your mind turns over the scribbled words on the crumpled page Ty left for you. It was mainly nonsensical, but some phrases stuck with you like a dagger to your heart.

“That he and I are meant to be,” you recall. “And that I know deep down we’re supposed to be together and he’ll keep waiting until I realize it.”

“What a fucking creep,” Rafe snarls, dropping his hand off of you. He’s not going to miss the next opportunity to beat the hell out of the guy and get him away for you for good.

The intensity of your nightmare and the shock from your argument still hurts, and as you look at Rafe, his hair falling over his forehead, his skin pale and his lips pursed in anger, you don’t have it in you to ask him to continue doing this for you.

“You don’t have to do this anymore,” you say. “I’ll stay with friends until my parents get back.”

“What?” Rafe’s pulse quickens. This thing with you isn’t real, he knows that, but it feels like you’re breaking up with him.

“We’re just hurting each other,” you tell him.

“No,” he says. “No. I’m keeping you safe. I’m taking care of you.”

He can’t possibly be hurting you. He can’t be fucking up yet another thing in his life.

“Rafe,” you exhale, defeated. “This whole thing was a bad idea. I’m just a reminder to you. And you’re…”

“I’m what?” he asks.

“You’re always going to keep me at a distance,” you say.

You hang on to what feels like your last shred of hope. You wait, hoping he’ll deny it, hoping he’ll finally meet you in the middle. You thought you had infinite faith that he’d let you in again. But after this morning, you’ve reached the end.

“Listen, I’m…” Rafe begins. Being with you hurts sometimes, but he can’t allow you to be in any danger. “I’m not letting you deal with him on your own.”

“I won’t be on my own,” you respond. He scoffs. Your friends couldn’t scare him off like he can.

“I can’t risk anything happening to you,” he says quickly. “Just… we’ll keep doing this until he finally gets it, alright?”

You’ve been barely grasping onto hope and his words are enough to keep you from letting go. That’s when you accept the fact that you’re doomed. You’ll never give up on him.

“Alright,” you say. Until he finally gets it. Your time with Rafe is limited. But nonetheless, it’s time.

He breathes out in relief. The possibility of disappointing you is more painful than he imagined. He can’t mess this up.

You leave him standing in the hallway, knowing you’ll have to walk away for good when all of this is over. You wonder if you’ll be able to do it without it breaking your heart.

Later in the evening, Sarah invites a few more friends over, who then invite their friends, and soon, the backyard of the Cameron estate is buzzing with conversation and laughter, the beach a glittering backdrop to the spontaneous party. You’re not surprised the space filled up so fast. This is all Kooks do these long summer days.

You find relief in the fact that Ty probably wouldn’t come. Not to Rafe’s house. You stand by your group of friends under the setting sun, the crowd growing around you.

When you spot one of Ty’s friends, your stomach sinks. If he’s here, maybe your ex is, too. It’s best to be cautious.

You search the crowd for Rafe. You noticed him a little while back, drinking with his friends, but he’s nowhere to be found now.

When you break from your group to ask Rafe’s friends where he went, they only offer you shrugs.

You slip into the quiet house, your heart starting to pound at the possibility of Ty finding you and Rafe not being around.

You find Rafe’s name in your phone and dash up the grand stairs, your phone to your ear as you decide to hide in Sarah’s room until you’re sure you’re safe.

It rings once before he answers.

“You okay?” he says.

“Where are you?”

“I’m - uh…” Rafe starts to clean away the lines of coke he made on his nightstand. He never hid it before, but with you around, he’s ashamed of his drug use now. That he needs it. That he couldn’t stay away. He finished his first line before you called. “I’m in my room.”

“I’ll be right there,” you say.

He panics, spilling the powder in his rush, wondering how many seconds he has left before you catch him mid-relapse.

The door opens and he catches your eyes darting to the hardwood floor, covered with coke he didn’t clean up on time.

Rafe’s at the edge of his bed, glaring up at you.

The last time you were in this room, he was just an innocent kid, and now he’s hunched over and drugged up and living through grief you’re not sure he’ll ever be able to bear.

He tries to shove past the shame, focusing on what he’s supposed to be focusing on.

“Is he here?” Rafe asks, standing up, filled with a rush of energy from the drugs.

He approaches you, his pupils blown, rubbing his nose. You stare up at him with concern. He’s so obviously trying to hide the fact that he just used.

“I don’t know,” you say. “I saw his friend and I thought I should find you in case he came.”

“Shit,” he mumbles, erratically shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have left you alone out there.”

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not,” Rafe says, his agitation growing. He was fighting the urge to use as long as he could. Then he told himself he’d just do a couple of lines and go back downstairs, but something could have happened to you in those few minutes. “It’s not okay. I fucked up. All I do is fuck up.”

You watch him pace back towards his bed, raking his hand through his hair. He’s nearly hysterical.

“That’s not true,” you say. Is that really what he thinks of himself?

“You don’t…” Rafe lets out a defeated huff as he sits on his bed, his head in his hands. “You don’t know me.”

It’s a painful reminder. But he’s right.

He stands up again, his breaths heavy. He needs to get this anxiety and anger and fear out the best way he knows how. With a fight.

“He better not be here,” he mutters.

Rafe stalks past you quickly and you follow him as he rushes down the stairs.

He darts towards the crowd scattered across the backyard. You trail him as he pushes through groups, his fists clenched tight.

He realizes your ex isn’t here and turns to look down at you in the middle of the crowd.

“Who’s his friend?” he asks, panting. You can tell that at this point, he just wants to hit someone. He doesn’t care who. And you’re not going to lead him to a guy who hasn’t done anything wrong.

“He has nothing to do with this,” you say over the chattering surrounding you. “Ty isn’t here, okay? That’s what matters. I’m safe. You didn’t fuck anything up.”

The worry in your eyes is almost too much for Rafe. He doesn’t get you. Whatever you see in him doesn’t exist. He feels like he needs to prove to you how wrong you are.

“I couldn’t last two nights,” he says. “I wanted to get clean and I couldn’t last two nights.”

Your face falls. The ground you’re both on feels shaky. You didn’t know he thought so low of himself.

“It’s not all or nothing,” you say. “You don’t have to get it on the first try. It’s…” You almost say an addiction, but you don’t want to insult him.

“It’s a habit and it takes time to break,” you conclude.

Rafe exhales shakily, his body jittery. He looks so upset that you couldn’t leave his side if you tried.

“I need to get away from all this noise,” you say. “Can we go down to the water?”

Rafe curtly nods. He needs to get away, too. The commotion around him is only fuelling his rage.

You stride towards the boardwalk leading to the private beach. The party wasn’t too loud for you at all, but he looked overwhelmed, so you fibbed just to get him out of the chaos.

You quietly walk towards the beach under the dark orange sky. Even with the baggage between you, it feels good to be by his side like this. You just wish it didn’t hurt him to be around you.

You ran up and down this boardwalk so many times as kids. One morning, you fell and scraped your knee and even though you were fine, Rafe put his arm around you to lean on him the whole way back up to the house so his mother could bandage you up.

Now it’s your turn to help him. However you can.

You make it to the sand. The crowd’s sound is just a dull roar behind you now that you’ve reached the beach.

You look over at Rafe to see his chest still rapidly rising and falling as he gazes out at the sea. You wonder why he was hiding it. He never shied away from snorting lines in the middle of a party before.

But by the look on his face, you can tell. He’s ashamed. His words ring in your head. All I do is fuck up.

“You can do it,” you tell him. “You can quit.”

Rafe looks at you and expels a dismissive scoff.

“Doubt it,” he murmurs.

You settle onto the sand, legs stretched out towards the water.

“Why?” you ask.

He stares out at the sea again, the shallow waves curling and tumbling into the shore beneath the setting sun. When he thinks about the hours you two spent out here, it’s like the memories aren’t even his.

He leans to sit next to you, arms resting on his propped up knees. You want so badly to talk about all the silly games and conversations you had out here years ago, but you know better now.

“Why do you care so much?” Rafe finally says, his voice low. You gaze at his profile and notice his lower lip just barely tremble. There’s a fragility in his face that you’ve never seen before.

You take a breath. How can you possibly answer without bringing up the past?

“I just do. Whether you want me to or not.” You say it with a soft chuckle in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

His shoulders slump. Before all this started, he was sure nobody cared about him. Not really. Not when it mattered. But you do.

You bite your lip, desperate to make him feel better.

“I’m not scared of him when you’re around,” you say. “I didn’t think that was possible. And maybe you weren’t downstairs when I was looking for you, but you answered my call right away. So, no, you don’t fuck everything up. You’re helping me when you don’t even have to.”

“I do have to,” he replies.

“Why do you think that?” You know he has a sense of loyalty towards you, a sense of owing you something, but maybe, just maybe, he’ll give you a warmer answer this time.

Rafe’s heart is racing. He’s failed so much. He failed making his own dad like him. He failed staying away from the coke. He’s not going to fail you.

“You’re the only person left who gives a shit,” he admits, unable to say about me out loud.

His words send a shiver through you. Just like in your bed last night, even though there’s nobody around to prove anything to, you touch him. You cup your hand around the inside of his elbow and squeeze.

Feeling your skin on his is a rush for him every time. The only contact he’s had with other people for years has been violent. But you’re so gentle with him and it unravels his anger.

Rafe swallows the lump in his throat. Or he tries to. But he can’t. The coke is making him manic. He took too much. He’s overwhelmed by your affection and he can’t stop what his body’s doing in response.

When you watch a tear run over the curve of his cheek, your shock and concern and sadness give you an ache so painful, your breath hitches.

Before he can try to leave, you lean on him, your temple pressed against his shoulder.

He’s humiliated. He’s actually fucking crying in front of you. So much for being the strong person keeping you safe. Behind everything he pretends to be, he’s weak.

It’s odd to cry in front of someone and not have them tell him to man up. You simply nuzzle against him and tighten your grip.

“Rafe!” someone calls in the distance. “Dude, what the hell? Why’d you leave?”

You both look back to see a group of his buddies stumbling down the boardwalk, laughing drunkenly.

“Shit,” Rafe grunts, wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands. His friends are probably looking for some blow. They can’t see him like this. He’s pissed you’re seeing him like this.

You can see how his guard is suddenly up again, how frantic he is to cover his tears.

“Should I…” you stammer, “try to get them to go?”

Rafe shrugs, at a loss, pulling the collar of his shirt up to wipe the evidence off of his face.

You watch his friends get closer and your mind rushes through how you can possibly get them to leave him alone.

It’s ridiculous, but it may be the only thing that’ll work.

“Maybe…” You take a breath to gain a bit of courage. “Maybe we just do what we did at the party last night?”

Glossy blue eyes land on you. He thinks back to the way you held each other, the way he kissed your cheek.

“I don’t know,” you say, words rushed. “Maybe if they think you’re in the middle of a hook-up, they won’t interrupt? It’s stupid, but I don’t know what else we could do.”

The invitation ignites a fire in him. Suddenly, Rafe’s hand cradles your jaw and he pulls you in. You were expecting a hug or something tame. But he kisses you.

Everything that felt heavy in you lightens. His lips are even softer than you imagined. Your mouths melt together and it feels so natural that you almost forget this is all a tactic.

Everything in and around Rafe blurs when he kisses you. He doesn’t feel weak or fucked up or like a failure. He just feels you. Kissing him back. Tasting him like he’s tasting you.

You hear Rafe’s friends’ voices grow louder and you pull back, glaring at them.

“He’s busy!” you shout. Some of them laugh, others holler, but the guy at the front of the group throws his arms up and turns around.

“Say no more,” he slurs, laughing. “But hurry it up, will you?”

You watch them stumble back towards the house and you realize you can hear your heartbeat. You wish it was from the rush of getting away with a lie. But it’s not. It’s from the lie feeling this good.

“It worked,” you say. When you focus on Rafe again, his eyes are on your lips. Then, he quickly looks away, his hand lifting off of you.

The air between you is thick and awkward and you nervously clasp your hands together.

He looks out at the water again. So do you. You’re not touching anymore. And even though he’s right next to you, he suddenly feels miles away.

(part five)

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#yall ive never had a series with parts THIS LONG i dont think #but i just cant put a pause to the story until it feels right lol 😭#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #yet it always ends in

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

Note

Hey I have a request!!

Capitol!Reader is from a rich and wealthy family which makes her an eligible wife for Snow who is in his second year as president which makes him 24. Reader is just about to turn 18 and she’s still in the academy. She’s being forced into a marriage the moment she is of age (18) but she very much dislikes Coriolanus. She is forced to hang out with him but she is sometimes a brat to him because she loathes him, she does not love him. The day she turns 18, Snow waits outside of the academy for her with white roses but she gets furious that he’s at her school infront of everyone and everyone now knows that they sale courting each other. She causes a scene (up to you what happens) and snow becomes incredibly mad at her. Honestly would love to see dark!coriolanus.

Thank you! Btw I love your fics sm 😭 I’ve been here since you started writing house of the dragon fics!

Fallen Roses || Young President! Coriolanus Snow x Capitol!Reader

A/n: Thank you so much for this request! And thank you for sticking with me through my changes 😂

Warnings: possessive snow?

Wc:

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“He’s in his second year as President, and he needs a wife. You are perfect for it, y/n.” Your mothers whispers harshly to you as you sat there, arms crossed, looking to the side. You had been called out of High Biology and into Dr. Gaul's office.

"I don't want to be his wife! I don't even know him!" You argue back to your mother as her face stiffens and her eyes darken. You gulp. "Listen here, daughter. When you turn 18 in a couple of days, you will marry President Snow whether you like it or not. You will have the honor of becoming the First Lady of Panem. Be grateful that you have this opportunity. Do not ruin this for us!" Your mother fires back.

Dr. Gaul sits across the desk from the two of you, watching as mother and daughter fight. "There is something you must understand Miss Y/L/N, Coriolanus Snow picked you himself to be his wife. That is the most highest honour he could ever give. You will live in the Presidential Mansion with him, not lift a single finger, and bask in your riches-" You loudly scoff.

"Hell sounds better than that," You spat in annoyance as you could see your mother shooting daggers your way from your peripheral vision. That was not the life that you wanted to have for yourself in the future. Your life right now was worse. You hated being the centre of attention; although that could never be avoided due to your high status, your parents, and your enormous wealth.

You were grateful without a doubt, but you'd rather give away your riches to people who actually needed it. You hated being forced into events, wearing outfits that were far too uncomfortable, making conversation about the weather and whatnot. It was not your cup of tea even though you were brought up with this kind of lifestyle your entire life. The thought of doing that all over again but as the second most important person in all of Panem? That would be absolute torture.

Dr. Gaul sighs, looking at your mother before closing her mouth again. You liked to argue and shut people up, and you were pretty darn good at it. "President Snow will be here shortly to meet you. I hope you show him the respect that he well deserves." She gives you a knowing look as you roll your eyes.

"Great," You mutter under your breath. The three of your all sat in his office in silence for a few minutes before the door opened behind you. Your mother and Dr. Gaul stand up to greet the President as you stayed sitting, staring at the wall behind Dr. Gaul.

"President Snow," Your mother greets him in her sickly fake voice that you hear every time you are at social events. "Coraline, lovely to see you again," You hear him say as you feel him move closer to you and your mother as he kisses her cheek.

"Dr. Gaul, always lovely to see you," He shakes her hand, "As to you Mr. Snow," She chuckles. Then it was silent. You were still sat in your seat. You could tell Snow was staring at you. "Y/n, it's lovely to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you." You lightly chuckle, turning your head to look up at him.

"Wish I could say the same," You remark, "Now can I leave? I really don't want to be missing out on the lesson," Your eyes move to your mother and Dr. Gaul. "Your schedule has been cleared for the whole day Miss Y/l/n, you will instead, accompany President Snow to his home," Dr. Gaul exaplains.

"What?" You sit up in your seat, hands gripping the arms tightly as they turn white. "You want me to be alone with him?" "You're going to have to get used to it, sweetheart." Snow chuckles behind you as you grip the arms even tighter, your knuckles turning white. "Y/n." Your mother sternly says as you let out a sigh from your nose.

"This is ridiculous, you can't force me into this!" You yell at your mother, "She can't. But I most certainly can. Now shall we?" Snow offers his arm as you stare at him in disbelief. You abruptly stand up making the chair screech against the floor and sling your bag over your shoulder.

Your heals click on the marble floor as you quickly leave the room. "I knew I would like her," Snow comments making your mother turn a slight colour of red from embarrassment. Students were still in their classrooms. The last thing you wanted was even more attention from everyone when they see you and the President together.

You make a sharp turn from the usual route to outside. "Where are you going?" Snow calls out as you turn to him, "Like hell I'm letting other people see me with you, alone." You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him. He stands there, hands tucked into his jacket as he looks down, chuckling.

"Like I said, sweetheart, you're going to have to get used to it. You will be Panem's First Lady after all." He tilts his head at you. You kiss your teeth, letting your arms fall to your sides. "Yeah well I want to savour the final last moments of my freedom, so let me, yeah?" And with that you turn around disappearing from sight.

For the next couple of days, you had been forced into hanging out with Coriolanus. Whether it be having a meal with him in the presidential mansion, or him accompanying you as you are forced to go shopping for even more clothes. You had slightly warmed up to him, he could tell. But your disapproval of the whole situation was still there. Your attitude towards him was a clear give away.

Coriolanus quite enjoys your witty remarks. It entices him. Part of the reason as to why he picked you was that you hated your lifestyle and knew you had quite the tongue. He figured you were entertaining to tease. And of course, he found you the prettiest out of all the girls at the academy.

The dreadful day had finally come. You turned 18. Which meant that you could kiss your last ounces of freedom and happiness goodbye the minute Snow slips a ring on your finger. You had school that day. You figured you would be pulled out from your first class to meet with Snow but that was not the case.

Throughout the day you grew anxious by the second. You had yet to be pulled out. The bell rang indicating the school day was over and nothing happened. Did Snow pull out? Did he change his mind? You hoped it was the latter.

You pack up your things and wave goodbye to your friends as they all start to pour out of the main doors of the Academy. From afar you could see a small crowd forming. You make your way towards the crowd and was horrified to see Snow leaned up against a car, a bouquet of white roses in one hand.

"Mrs. Snow," He smirks the second he sets eyes on you as the crowd around you gasp in shock. You felt pure rage and hatred towards the man standing in front of you. You storm closer to him, yanking the flowers from his hands and throwing it on the floor. "Do not call me that," You spat, venom laced in your tone as Snow's eyes darken. He grips your upper arm as the peacekeepers open the car door.

Snow roughly pushes you inside the car as he slams the door. "You have been acting like an ungrateful little brat. Show some fucking respect to your husband." He grips your chin as your eyes begin to water. "You are not my husband." You say as he grips your chin even tighter making you wince. "I will be, whether you like it or not, darling." He smirks at you, all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off his lips.

You push him off of you as you sit furthest away from him. A tear rolls down your cheek. This was going to be your life from now on. "First thing you should now about being Panem's First Lady." Snow turns his head towards you, his hands roll up his sleeves, "Do not. Refuse. My flowers. Clear?" You don't say anything.

"I said, do I make myself clear!" He yells as you flinch. You tore your eyes away from the window. "Crystal clear." You choke out as he grins in satisfaction. "Good."

#coriolanus snow #president snow #the hunger games #the hunger games ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow imagine #imagine #the hunger games fanfiction #tbosas #tbosas imagine

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imaginespazzi · 8 months ago

Text

Part 9: These Moments Of Ours

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Just crash, it's our time now (to make this work second time around)

(In which a people-pleasing author gives the people what they've been begging for)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff with a little bit Angst

Words: 7.2K Words

TW: Explicit Sexual Content, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Thank you for being oh so patient with me because I know I really made y'all wait and hopefully it'll be worth the wait. I'm gonna keep this pretty short and sweet today so onto the usual. Please keep sending me your thoughts and theories; they're the best motivation a girl could ask for. I did edit but feel free to point out the inevitable typos/mistakes. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves :)

April 2030

UConn 84 Notre Dame 82

The blue and white section of the Moda Center crowd erupts in cheers as the final buzzer rings through the stadium. Confetti rains down on the court as the UConn Huskies are crowned national champions once again. Paige’s scream is drowned out by KK’s louder whoop as the two of them excitedly wrap their arms around each other, jumping up and down like they’re college students all over again.

“Oh okay, love the inclusion,” Ice rolls her eyes but it morphs into a grin as her former teammates pull her into their group hug, all three of them making a ruckus that’s drowned out by the crowd around them roaring in excitement.

“Can y’all be a little quieter. I’m tryna mourn my Irish in peace,” Sonia says lousily, glaring at them in irritation as she fiddles with her clover bracelet.

“Oh cheer up Citron,” Paige teases her Wings teammate, “at least y’all finally made it back to the Final Four.”

“Fuck all the way off Bueckers-”

“GO HUSKIES,” a loud voice interrupts Sonia’s grumbling as Jana rushes into their section, the Valkyries center smiling vibrantly as she crashes into her old friends, “BLEED BLUE BABY!”

“Bleed blue!” the three UConn faithful chorus back as Sonia glumly saunters over to Maddy Westbeld who had come over with Jana, the two Fighting Irish alum sharing a commiserating hug.

“This is why everyone finds you Huskies insufferable,” Maddy says with disgust.

“Because we just keep winning? There, there little leprechauns,” Ice taunts, light-heartedly patting Maddy and Sonia’s heads as both of them bristle and flash the Wings forward with a synchronized middle finger, “I’m sure you’ll catch up to us never.”

Paige is about to join in on the ribbing when KK turns to Jana with a frown, “where’s Azzi? I thought all of y’all came together.”

She shouldn’t care this much anymore. It’s been five years and Paige thinks it’s a little ridiculous how quickly her ears perks up at the mention of her girlfriend, thinks it’s a little pathetic how she leans in closer to Jana, embarrassingly eager to hear the answer to KK’s question.

“We did. She wanted to go call her parents to check on Stephie,” Jana explains.

KK rolls her eyes, her face as disappointed as Paige feels, “of course she did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jana narrows her eyes at the shorter woman, a protective edge to her tone.

“It means that this avoidance bullshit Azzi’s on is pretty fucking tired,” KK sneers.

“KK bro chill,” Ice steps in immediately, looking worriedly between her two friends as Jana’s eyes flash with fire.

“She’s checking on her daughter KK. She’s not trying to avoid anything,” Jana’s quietness is in stark contrast with the loud cheers around them and Paige swallows the guilt clawing at her throat. This is their fault. Her and Azzi’s. They’d caused an earthquake in their own lives and the aftershocks had rippled throughout their friends and families, creating rubble where there had once been solid foundations.

KK laughs bitterly, “she had to check on her daughter right now? The game ended like three fucking seconds ago and she couldn’t just wait?”

“You’re being unfair.”

“Why are you always defending her?”

“Because she’s my teammate and it’s not all her fault,” Jana spits out, eyes briefly darting towards Paige who digs her fingernails into her palm, “it’s not her fault that she doesn’t always feel welcome around certain people.”

“And how about the rest of us people who’d really like to see her once in a while?” hurt tinges in KK’s words, “she can’t put the other shit aside for one fucking second?”

Jana opens her mouth, ready to defend her Azzi again but before she can speak, a calm voice cuts in, “hi guys.”

Goosebumps rush up Paige’s arms as she takes in the sight of the ex-girlfriend. There’s nothing extravagant to Azzi’s outfit, a simple UConn sweatshirt paired with black ripped jeans and minimal jewelry but she looks as radiant as always. There’s an awkward tension in the air as Azzi warily takes in the way KK and Jana are still glaring at each other. Her eyes accidentally lock with Paige and the blonde can see the same guilt of this is our collateral damage reflected back in those dark brown orbs.

“Hi Azzi,” Ice is the first one to break the silence, wrapping the Valkyries shooting guard in a hug, “how’s Stephanie?”

Paige watches as Azzi’s eyes light up at the mention of her daughter's name, all of her previous apprehension gone as she begins to gush about the little girl, “she’s good. Somehow manipulated my dad into letting her stay up past her bedtime but good. She’s only two years old but already such a damn menace,” the brunette’s gaze wanders over to KK, “I guess that was to be expected huh? Any child of mine was bound to be one.”

KK cracks a half smile, bumping her shoulder against Jana’s as a truce sign, “you call it being menace, we call it being smart as hell right El Alfy?”

“Dude that’s what I tell her every time,” Jana immediately accepts the white flag, slinging an arm around the shorter woman, “Azzi just has genius children. Me, you, Nés and now Stephie.”

Ice gawks at the two of them, “seriously?”

“Well you see Ice, statistically she can’t have all genius children. Someone needed to be average,” KK mocks, high-fiving a giggling Jana.

“Are y’all seeing this bullying?” Ice rounds on Paige and Azzi, hands on her hips with dramatically wide eyes, “are y’all really gonna let them bully your favorite child like this?”

“We don’t have favorites,” Paige and Azzi say at the same, pausing abruptly at the resurgence of familiar synchronicity between them. They glance briefly at each other, shuffling nervously, before immediately looking away.

“I hate all of y’all,” Ice pouts, petulantly folding her arms against her chest.

“Aw cheer up Icey,” Jana pats the top of Ice’s head, “how about a round of shots at the hotel bar to cheer you up?” she turns to Maddy and Sonia, who’d been having their own conversation, with a devilish grin, “losing team’s paying.”

“Y’all are sore winners,” Maddy huffs.

Paige’s eyes dart towards Azzi, waiting for the younger woman to come up with a shallow excuse like she usually does to get out of having to spend more time with the blonde than necessary. And she knows that it’s unfair of her, knows that it’s only natural for someone to actively avoid being stuck in the same place as their past -thinks only a fool like her could want to be in their ex’s presence- but every time Azzi escapes being around her, Paige can’t help the disappointment that curls in her stomach.

“Y’all coming,” KK asks, a slight edge to her voice as she twists to look at Paige and Azzi.

“Of course,” Paige grins, locking arms with Sonia who immediately groans, “I’m not passing up free drinks. Especially not when the Irish are paying.”

“Az?” KK’s eyes are hopeful.

Azzi bites her lip and Paige can almost see the cogs turning in her brain before she schools her features into a soft smile, “yeah. I’ll come.”

***

Paige isn’t sure how it happens. Well actually, that’s not quite right. She definitely has an idea of how it happened. She’s not quite sure when KK, Ice and Jana had had time to devise the plan but she’s certain that’s how it happened. Because really, there’s no other reasonable explanation for how she and Azzi have ended up being the only two people, from their previous party of seven, that are still sitting at the bar. Maddy and Sonia had left first, muttering under their breaths about not wanting to be around insufferable winners. Ice had been the next to leave, making up an excuse about how she wanted to call her boyfriend. Then Jana had apparently needed the bathroom. When she hadn’t returned in a solid 15 minutes, it was KK’s turn. A barely disguised grin and a hard-to-believe lie of I think Jana got lost, I should go help her on her lips as she’d excused herself to the sound of Paige and Azzi’s protests.

The two of them sit in awkward silence for a bit until Azzi suddenly bursts out laughing, the corner of her eyes crinkling. Paige regards her with amusement, trying to ignore the way the sound of the younger woman laughing feels like hearing her favorite song come on in the car on a warm summer road trip.

“You’re a little young to be going crazy,” she remarks.

“Shut up,” Azzi rolls her eyes, lightly punching Paige’s shoulder, “it’s just- they’re still all really shitty liars.”

Paige laughs, “and they still come up with the dumbest plans.”

“Do you remember when they locked us in the Werth changing rooms when we had that stupid fight-”

“Hey,” Paige interrupts indignantly, “it wasn’t stupid-”

“It was definitely stupid-”

“You asked Carol to drive you to rehab instead of me.”

“Because you had practice at the same time.”

“I wouldn’t have minded being five minutes late to practice.”

Azzi snorts, “more like half an hour and you sure as shit wouldn’t have been fine when coach would have yelled at you and made you run suicides after.”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Paige shrugs, “running suicides would have been worth it for an extra hour with you.”

Azzi stares at her, mouth opening and closing several times before she finally looks away, a soft sigh falling from her lips, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige says, unable to keep the defensiveness from creeping into her words.

“You are,” Azzi slips off the barstool, “you are and you don’t even know it.”

“Azzi,” Paige curls her hand around the other woman’s bicep, pulling her in to stop her from leaving and it’s a bad idea because now they’re too close and her heartbeat quickens immediately at the fact that if she leaned in just a little bit more, there would be no more space left between them, “what am I doing?”

“You’re- you-” Azzi stutters, gulping as her eyes briefly flicker down to Paige’s lips, “you’re making me feel.”

“Making you feel what?” Paige presses.

For a second, Paige thinks Azzi might just give in to her heart, might just tell the truth but then something hardens in her face, and the next word that slips out of her mouth has both of them going rigid, “how’s your wife Paige?”

“Az-”

“I should go to bed,” Azzi says firmly, trying to wriggle out of Paige’s tightening grip.

“Azzi-”

“I have an early flight and I should probably wake up a little earlier than I normally would cause you know Jana’s gonna need me to wake her up,” Azzi rambles still trying to twist her arm out of Paige’s hold.

“Hold on-”

“Can you just let go of me-”

“I’m trying to tell-”

“I really need to get to bed-’

“Az-”

“I have to go-”

“Azzi I’m getting a divorce,” Paige bursts out; the admission feels light a heavy weight off her chest.

Azzi stops fighting against the blonde’s grip, “oh.”

“We’ve- um-” Paige’s throat feels dry as Azzi’s eyes continue to bore into her, “we’ve been separated for a while and I finally-uh- finally filed the papers a little while ago. So um- to your question- I uh- I don’t know how she is because I- I don’t- there uh- there isn’t- there isn’t a wife.”

There’s silence for a bit as Azzi’s head bops up and down as she processes Paige’s revelation, “I’m um-” she clears her throat, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like it’s your fault,” and that’s not completely true -not when Olivia had repeatedly thrown the past back in Paige’s face- but she doesn’t think Azzi needs to know that, doesn’t want the younger woman to feel guilty for things beyond her control. She’s confused when Azzi flinches, like a memory has just pinched her nerves.

“Right,” Azzi bites, “I really should- I really should be going to bed.”

Something gloomy settles across Paige’s heart as she nods at the brunette’s words, slipping out of her own chair as they start walking towards the elevator in the lobby. She feels antsy, like she’s leaving something incomplete. The silence rings loud between them as they wait for the elevator doors to open, keeping as much distance as they can from each other. It feels like ages before the familiar ding! finally rings out around them. Despite the abundance of room inside, the doorway into the elevator is rather condensed and their shoulders brush against each other as they make their way inside. Audible sighs involuntarily roll off of their tongues at the brief second of contact as they both shiver from each other’s familiar touch. There’s enough space now that they could easily move away -they probably should move away- but instead they stay pressed together. The sound of their uneven breathing fills the elevator as the doors close in front of them.

“I’m uh- I’m on the third floor,” Azzi says as she presses the #3 button, “you?”

“Fifth,” Paige breathes out, eyes fixated on the goosebumps that appear on the back of Azzi’s neck as her hands shake while pushing the #5 button.

The elevator jolts up and Paige immediately reaches for Azzi’s hips to steady her, eliciting a small gasp from the other woman. She waits for Azzi to move away but the brunette stays put and Paige doesn’t move her hands.

The doors open on the third floor. Both of them suck in a sharp breath.

Azzi doesn’t get out.

***

Paige wakes up to the dreadful sound of her alarm clock blaring around her room. It takes a second before the memories of last night start pounding against her skull. Her body aches in the best way possible. The room is still dark -just like it had been last night- and she closes her eyes, trying to revisit the feeling of Azzi’s lips pressed against her forehead, right before the younger woman -with her hair disheveled and bitemarks littered across her jawline- had left Paige’s room.

Paige hadn’t asked Azzi to stay. She wonders if she should have; wonders if Azzi would have agreed if she’d asked. But she hadn’t asked and Azzi hadn’t stayed. She regrets it a little bit. She wonders if Azzi does too. And Paige thinks that maybe that’s just the melancholic truth about their tragic story.

Maybe they’re destined to always regret.

***

April 2033

Paige thinks Azzi’s guest room air conditioning must be broken or something. There’s no other explanation for why, despite having kicked off every single blanket, she feels like she’s tossing and turning in red hot lava. She feels restless, like she has a purpose that she’s leaving unfulfilled. All the different scenes from tonight are rushing through her head, but her heart keeps stuttering on the last one; an image of the way Azzi had looked at her before they’d kissed good night.

Azzi had asked her to stay even if she’d hidden it under a lame disguise of it being too late and Paige being too angry to drive home alone. And it’s not completely false that her blood is still boiling, their little encounter with fucking asshole still dangerously lingering in her mind as she thinks of the 101 ways she would have liked to murder him. But they both know that the minute Azzi had run her hand down Paige’s back, the moment she’d called her baby, the moment she’d given her the reassurance she was too scared to ask for but needed desperately, Paige had felt all the anger in her body replaced by that familiar sense of calm only Azzi had ever been able to provide.

And after that had been decided, they’d both hesitated in the hallway, looking back and forth between Azzi’s master bedroom and the guestroom. Paige doesn’t know what had possessed her, why she’d decided tonight of all nights to play this false chivalrous rule-abiding good girl persona when it was the last thing she wanted to do. Because the last couple of weeks had been hell. The stupid rules had been hell. Going slow had been hell. Having to pull away from Azzi and walk out the door every night when all she wanted to was to lose herself in the brunette’s arms had been hell. But she’d done it for Azzi. She’d done it because there isn’t a thing in the world that she wouldn’t do for Azzi. Except tonight had been different. There had been that look on Azzi’s face -the way the younger woman had bitten her lips, the way her eyes had been hooded over, the way her cheeks had been flushed as her gaze roamed over Paige’s body- and it had morphed into one of pure disappointment when Paige had said she’d take the guestroom.

You’re a fucking idiot Paige Bueckers, she thinks to herself as she bolts right up, the image finally burning a little too bright behind her eyelids to continue this façade of trying to sleep. Perhaps it’s pointless. It’s late and Azzi loves her sleep; there’s no way she’s awake. But Paige slides out of bed anyways, breathing unevenly as she turns on the nightlight and walks towards her door. She doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t have any idea what she’d even say if Azzi is, by some miracle of god, even awake. But fuck it, Paige needs to see this through. She pauses at the door, hands wrapping around the cold handle as she gives herself one more chance to back out. Really, she doesn’t even know why she’s so nervous. It’s Azzi. Her Azzi.

Paige twists the handle to tug the door open.

Azzi’s eyes widen in surprise, her fisted hand -that had clearly been raised to knock on the mahogany door- freezing in place as she swallows and Paige is mesmerized by the way it highlights the veins in her neck. Her eyes move downwards, fixating on where Azzi’s oversized t-shirt hangs looser on one-side, leaving her right shoulder and collarbone on display. The shirt right above her thighs, giving Paige the perfect display of Azzi’s toned long legs looming beneath and the blonde gulps at the sight.

“Hi,” Azzi speaks first, the low graveliness in her tone causing a coil of want to wrap itself around Paige’s stomach.

“Hey,” Paige whispers back, “couldn’t sleep?”

Azzi bites her lip, “no- I just uh-, people always say- like when Jana sleeps over or something- she always says that- that the guest room is um- it’s too cold so I just- I wanted to make sure- wanted to ask-” she clears her throat, taking a step forward as she look earnestly at Paige, “are you cold?”

“So cold,” Paige confirms, moving closer to Azzi so their chests are almost touching.

“You could um-” Azzi licks her teeth, “you could stay in Stephie’s room-”

“I could?” Paige asks, pressing herself flush against the younger woman, hands wrapping around her waist. There’s barely space for air between them but she wants to get closer, wants to stitch herself into Azzi’s skin and keep them intertwined forever.

“You could but,” Azzi’s hand trails Paige’s biceps, causing the blonde to shiver, before finally interlocking around her neck, “I think- I think her bed might be a little small for you.”

“Way too small,” Paige breathes against Azzi’s skin as she nips at the brunette’s jawline, before ghosting her lips against her neck, leaving a trail of mine mine mine down her throat.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice is breathless as she tilts her head, hissing when Paige bites harshly right above her collarbone, immediately soothing it with her tongue, “I think- I think-fuck” she cuts herself with a moan as Paige turns them around, maneuvering them back towards the bed that suddenly looks far more inviting then it had before, “I just think-”

“You think too much,” Paige says softly, finally removing her lips from Azzi’s skin -she misses the taste of it immediately- so she can smile teasingly at the brunette.

“Do I?” Azzi grins dopily.

Paige rolls her eyes, continuing to walk them backwards, “way, way too much.”

They’re forced to a halt when the back of Azzi’s thighs collide against the backframe of the bed. It feels like a turning point, like they could unlock a new chapter or keep themselves on the one they’re already on. And while Paige would really to skip forward, she’ll be okay with whatever happens next as long as the story being written is still theirs, still about her and Azzi.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers again -and Paige loves the way Azzi’s lips curl around the syllable of her name- as she bunches the blonde’s shirt in her hands, “make me stop thinking.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Paige promises before they both go tumbling into the mattress, their lips colliding in a heated kiss. It feels like they’re trying to meld themselves into each other, like their bodies are carving out an indent of you and i just always feel right against the bedsheets.

“I want this off,” Azzi breathes out between kisses, hands lifting the edge of Paige’s shirt, “off, off, off.”

“So bossy,” Paige smirks, leaning up off of Azzi to take off her shirt in a tantalizingly slow manner, enjoying the way the brunette’s eyes darken as they glide across her abs first and then her breasts, “enjoying the sho- fuck Az.”

The words are stolen from her mouth as Azzi swirls her tongue around one erect nipple, her hands cupping Paige’s ass to balance the blonde on top of her. She’s always known exactly how to get Paige to shut the fuck up. Paige groans as Azzi flips them over, shifting herself to press her thigh in between Paige’s legs and the blonde can’t help but grind up against it, desperate for some much needed friction, as Azzi sucks a possessive bruise against her jaw.

“Missed this,” Azzi whispers, as she kisses down Paige’s neck, “and this,” a kiss pressed against her collarbone, “and these,” Azzi presses her lips softly to each breast, “and this,” against Paige’s stomach, “and these,” two featherlight kisses are peppered against her hip bones, “and I really missed these.”

“Azzi,” Paige moans as the brunette’s lips glide across the inside of her thighs, taking her sweet time marking only i could ever make you feel like this against every inch of Paige’s skin.

Azzi stops right above the edge of Paige’s boxers before slowly peeling them off as sparkling brown eyes staring up at her with a myriad of unspoken emotions that Paige could spend a lifetime trying to memorize, “missed all of this. Missed everything about you. Missed you so much baby.”

Vulnerability echoes in Azzi’s voice as she slowly moves herself back up, hands coming to cup Paige’s face as they press their foreheads together. And it’s not like she hadn’t known that Azzi must have missed her in these last couple of years. But there’s a part of Paige that had thought that there was no way Azzi could have missed her as much as she missed Azzi. Because missing Azzi had felt all consuming, like there was a constant noose around her neck that got tighter and tighter with every day that passed by. But there’s something about the way the words reverberate around the room, something about the way Azzi looks like she can finally breathe again after saying it out loud that it hits Paige; it hits her that they’ve both been suffocating without each other.

“I missed you too,” she breathes out, tears pooling at the edge of her eyes, “missed you so fucking much Azzi.”

“Yeah?” Azzi whispers, lips catching the lone tear that falls from Paige’s eyes, “how much?”

Paige shudders as Azzi’s fingers teasingly ghost over her wet folds, “s-so much. Azzi please. Need it so bad. Need you so bad.”

“Whatever you want baby,” Azzi repeats Paige’s own words back to her before she finally gives her what she’s desperately been craving, two fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of her pussy as her thumb rubs circles against Paige’s clit.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that-” a litany of curses waterfall from Paige’s lips as she bucks her hips up against Azzi’s hand, “fuck please.”

“Please what?” Azzi asks coyly, fingers moving at a faster face as she hides a grin against Paige’s neck, “gotta tell me what you want baby.”

“W-want your mouth please- please Azzi-baby please,” Paige begs, writhing underneath her when Azzi immediately complies, lips attaching to her clit as she adds another finger, “fuck Azzi- I’m so close.”

“I know baby,” the words vibrate against Paige’s core, sending another bout of ecstasy shooting up her spine as she feels that familiar buildup in her stomach.

“Azz I’m gonna-”

“I know. Let go baby. I’ve got you. I’m gonna catch you I promise,” Azzi whispers.

And it’s those words, that promise, that sends Paige over the edge, a cry of Azzi’s name falling from her lips. Because she knows Azzi means them for a lot more than just this moment, that those words -the promise- are born out of something deeper than lust. And maybe neither of them are quite ready to acknowledge that yet, not ready to make vows that teeter dangerously close to the ones they watched themselves break in the past, but it lingers between them, like a string made of we’ve always been inevitable connecting their hearts to each other.

Azzi slowly eases her fingers out of Paige, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the older woman’s stomach as she recovers from her high, before looking up at her with a smirk. Never breaking eye contact, Azzi slips her fingers into her own mouth, leisurely sucking at them as she watches Paige’s face contort with desire.

“Was I good?” she asks teasingly and Paige growls.

“How have you gotten better at that? Actually you know what never mind,” Paige shakes her head, “I don’t want to know that.”

Azzi laughs, hiding her face against Paige’s neck, “only that good for you.”

“Good,” Paige tightens her arms around the woman on top of her and then scrunches her face as she feels the material of Azzi’s shirt itch against her wrists, “well this is unfair.”

“What is?” Azzi hum backs.

“I’m fully fucking naked and you haven’t taken a single thing off,” Paige grumbles as she coaxes Azzi’s face out of her neck, hands gripping the edge of her shit, “take this off.”

Azzi stills, her previous serene expression replaced by something more nervous, as she lifts herself up so she’s straddling the older woman’s hips, “Paige-”

“What’s wrong?” Paige’s senses are on high alert immediately as she rises up herself, maneuvering them so Azzi’s fully on her lap.

“I just-,” Azzi draws in a deep breath, looking downwards as she chews her lips.

“Hey,” Paige whispers, lifting the younger woman’s chin back up before pressing their foreheads together, “talk to me baby.”

“Can we just-” Azzi plays with the end of Paige’s hair, “can we maybe just-” she cocks her head towards the nightlight on the desk, “do you think we could turn the light off?”

“What?” Paige asks confusedly, “Azzi I’ve seen you naked-”

“Not since- not since I had Stephie,” Azzi interrupts, cowering under Paige’s intense stare, “the lights- the lights were off that one time and the other time I don't think- I don’t think we were sober enough for me to care or for you to remember so can we just-”

“Azzi,” Paige cups the younger woman’s face, “baby there is no amount of alcohol in the world that could make me forget you. Trust me I’ve tried,” she slips her hand under Azzi’s shirt, caressing the skin underneath, “but every time I see you baby, I memorize every little part of you,” she dances her fingertips across where she remembers those stretch marks -the ones Azzi is so afraid of her seeing again- are littered across her stomach, “and whether I’m sober or drunk or something in between, I always think every little bit of you is perfect.”

“Paige,” Azzi says softly, something akin to awe coating her voice.

“Just wanna make you feel as good as you made me feel baby. Please,” Paige wraps her fingers around the edge of Azzi’s shirt again, “can I?”

“Okay,” Azzi concedes quietly, lifting her arms so Paige can finally tug the offending shirt off.

Paige gives herself a moment to look at the woman in front of her, the woman whose body she’s seen countless times yet she swears that it feels like a different adventure every time. And then she lets herself have a taste, running her tongue lazily across Azzi’s skin, as she slowly maneuvers them so she can hover above the younger woman. A soft smile flitter across her face as she rubs her fingers over the tattoo printed across Azzi’s ribcage. It’s a purple S tattoo, with butterfly wings fanning out on either side. For Stephie.

Keeping her eyes trained on the darker-skinned , she brushes her lips across the stretch marks on the darker-skinned woman’s abdomen and she hopes that Azzi can read the all of your imperfections are still made for me that Paige is spelling out against her skin. She uses her teeth to pull down Azzi’s panties, smirking to herself when she hears the younger woman's breath hitch above her. Eyes still interlocked with Azzi’s, Paige is purposefully slow as she licks a stripe up Azzi’s folds, relishing the way the other woman’s eyes roll back into her head.

“So fucking wet,” she hums, “all for me?”

“You know-” Azzi shudders when Paige’s lips brush against her clit, still teasing, “you know it is.”

Paige smirks, “only for me.”

“Please,” Azzi begs as Paige continues to lazily lap at her pussy, giving her something but not quite enough.

“Say it,” Paige demands, harshly biting against Azzi’s inner thigh as she brings up a hand to rub infinity signs around Azzi’s clit, “say it’s only for me.”

“It’s only for you-” Azzi cuts herself off with a scream as Paige plunges her tongue deep inside her, setting a tempo she knows will have Azzi seeing stars.

“Doing so good for me baby,” Paige coos as she adds two fingers with her tongue, “always so good for me.”

“Fuck,” Azzi fists the bedsheets, trying to gain some semblance of control as she writhes under Paige’s touch, “feels so good. Paige please.”

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know what you need baby.”

And that’s the thing about them. That’s why it’s good every single time. Because Paige knows every little crevice of Azzi’s body like it’s her own, knows exactly where to touch and how to touch to elicit those little gasps of pleasure that she wishes she could record and listen to on loop. And it doesn’t matter how long they go without each other in between, coming back always feels like home. But as much as she loves the feeling of coming back, Paige never wants to feel it again. Because this time, she hopes there is no in between without each other. She hopes that this time, they both stay.

“Paige,” Azzi moans again, her name falling from her mouth like a prayer.

“I’ve got you,” Paige whispers, capturing Azzi’s lips with her own as she continues her ministrations with her hand, “fall apart for me baby. I swear I’ll put you back together.”

There’s nothing quite like watching Azzi come undone and Paige drinks in the sight of the other woman quivering as she grabs the blonde’s bicep so tight that it’s bound to leave a victory mark. Paige coaxes her through it, nibbling at Azzi’s jawline as the younger woman slowly climbs down from her peak, going limp in Paige’s arms.

They’re quiet for a while, languorously pressing delicate kisses against each other's skin, soft hands exploring all over each other’s familiar bodies as they tangle their legs together; close not being close enough.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Paige whines when Azzi starts to move out of her grasp.

“I got what I came for,” Azzi teases, “so I’m going back to my own bed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige scowls, pulling the younger woman back into her chest.

Azzi laughs, kissing away Paige’s pout as she wriggles out of her grip and slips out of the bed, “relax. I’m just getting something to clean us up with.”

“Well hurry up. I’m already cold,” Paige mewls before letting out a wolf-whistle as her eyes drift over Azzi’s naked retreating form, appreciating the tautness of the brunette’s back muscles down to her perfectly curved ass.

“You’re 31 years old Paige Bueckers,” Azzi chides as she walks into the ensuite bathroom but Paige can hear the blush in her voice.

“And you’re hot as fuck Azzi Fudd,” Paige calls out with a smirk, keeping the and you’re all mine as a secret in her own thoughts.

“You’re not bad yourself Bueckers,” Azzi returns from the bathroom with a smile and a damp cloth as she hops back onto the bed, gently dabbing it between Paige’s thighs.

It’s a simple act but Paige feels tears prickle at the corner of the eyes. Because it signifies so much more than just this moment. For most of her life, Paige had grown accustomed to the idea that no one would take care of her unless she took care of them first. She didn't know it was possible that someone could reach out first, that they could hold her first without any expectation of anything else in return. Until Azzi.

“Baby?” Azzi’s voice is wrapped in concern as she takes notice of Paige’s tears, immediately rising up to brush them away, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just-” Paige loops her arms around Azzi’s neck, shuddering slightly at how earnest the younger woman’s face is, “I really fucking missed you.”

Azzi’s eyes soften as she caresses Paige’s cheek before pressing her lips against her forehead, “I really fucking missed you too.”

***

Paige’s eyes flutter awake to sunlight peeking through the blue curtains of Azzi’s guest bedroom. She groans, shifting to bury her face further into the brunette’s stomach, pinching it when Azzi laughs above her. Lifting her head slightly, Paige can’t help but smile at the woman above her. Azzi’s got her glasses on, a book in her hands as she peers down at Paige with nothing but pure fondness. Something aches in Paige’s chest as countless visions of mornings just like this fill her head. She’d resigned herself to believing that she’d never get this back again, that she’d have to rely on memories of the past to fill the empty void that rattled hollowly against her chest every time she’d woken up without Azzi by her side.

“Morning sleepy head,” Azzi says softly, putting her book down to brush her fingers through Paige’s hair, “assuming you slept well considering you didn’t even notice when I left to grab my glasses and a book from my room.”

Paige frowns, “you left me?”

“I was bored,” Azzi defends herself, “you were fast asleep and I had nothing to occupy myself with.”

“I can believe you left me,” Paige petulantly accuses again.

“I didn’t leave-”

“You left me!”

“Okay fine,” Azzi concedes with an eyeroll, “but I came back.”

“Yeah you did,” a soft smile takes over Paige’s features as she leans up to brush her lips against Azzi’s, “you came back.”

“I did,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s mouth, cupping the older woman’s face with her hands.

Paige is about to deepen the kiss, her hands beginning to slip lower, when the sound of a doorbell ruins any chances of putting in motion any of the uncordial ideas that had taken birth in her mind. She groans as Azzi immediately pulls away.

“Shit, I didn’t realize they’d be here so early.” the younger woman curses, hurriedly tossing Paige’s discarded clothes at her, “here, put your clothes on. I’ll go down first while you change.”

“I- I can come down?” Paige asks slowly.

Azzi crinkles her eyes in confusion, “what do you mean? What else would you do?”

“I just. I dunno-” Paige shrugs, “I just assumed you uh- you wouldn’t want Stephie to know I stayed the night. I figured I’d sneak out of the window or something.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, walking over to grip the older girl’s hands, “you’re not- you’re not my dirty little secret or anything. I’m not- I’m not quite ready to tell Stephie about us- hell I’m not even really sure what we are yet but I know- I know that I don’t want to hide you from her. Besides,” she nudges Paige humorously, “we’re on the 2nd floor babe. I don’t need you trying to climb out the window and breaking your knee before the season even starts.”

Paige watches quietly as Azzi walks out the door. She doesn’t think the younger woman quite understands how much she had needed to hear those words, how much she had needed to not feel like a secret again. It fills Paige with a sense of hope, hope that maybe things would be different this time. Maybe things would be better this time.

***

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals from Azzi’s arms as she spots Paige descending down the stairs, “you’re already here!”

Paige smiles at the little girl, tapping her nose over Azzi’s shoulder, “I promised you I’d be here bright and early didn’t I?”

“Very bright and early,” Katie cocks an eyebrow as she smirks at Paige and Azzi, “how did you get here so early Paige?”

“Don’t be silly Nanna. She drove of course,” Stephie says matter-of-factly before scrunching up her nose, “but Miss Buecks. How come your car isn’t outside then?”

“That’s a great question Stephie,” Katie says and Paige thinks the woman’s a little bit too peppy for a grandmother, “why isn’t your car outside Paige?”

“Because-” Azzi gives her mother an exasperated look before fixing her eyes on her daughter, “because Paige slept over last night.”

“Miss Buecks slept over last night?” Stephie repeats.

“I did,” Paige confirms, glaring at Katie as she snickers in the corner.

“Mama can you please put me down,” Stephie says finally.

The little girl looks upset and Paige feels her heart constrict with fear. In general, she doesn’t really do well with people being mad at her. But she definitely doesn't think she can take Stephie of all people being mad at her. The little girl has chiseled herself into Paige’s heart and if she ever left, Paige thinks she’d leave a hole so big, her entire heart would cease working.

Azzi shares a nervous look with Paige as she sets her daughter down before crouching down to Stephie’s level, “what’s wrong Stephie-bean?”

Stephie’s bottom lip trembles as she looks between her mother and Paige, “you let Miss Buecks sleepover.”

“I-” Azzi looks helplessly between her own mother and Paige, both of whom look just as tense, “I did but sweetheart why is that upsetting you? You like Miss Buecks.”

“I love Miss Buecks,” Stephie wails and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, the little girl's words wrapping themselves around her like a warm blanket.

Azzi blanches for a second, “I don’t understand then what’s the problem-”

“YOU GUYS HAD A SLEEPOVER WITHOUT ME,” Stephie yells, stomping her tiny feet.

Oh.

“Stephie-” Azzi says softly, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me Mama,” Stephie sniffs as she turns to Paige with a betrayed expression, “and you Miss Buecks. How could you guys have a sleepover without me?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Paige falls to her knees beside Azzi, trying not to smile when Stephie dramatically turns her face away from them, “we didn’t mean to. It was just really late when we got back from the party-”

“The party,” Stephie cries out, “first you went to a party without me and then you had a sleepover without me. I can’t bel-ieve you guys would do that to me. Don’t you guys love me at all?”

“We’re really sorry Stephie,” Paige says as seriously as she can, reaching out to fold Stephie’s tiny hands into her much larger one.

“Very, very, sorry,” Azzi echoes.

“I don’t know,” Katie supplies unhelpfully from where she’s watching the whole situation with pure amusement, “they don’t seem that sorry Stephie.”

“Mom!” “Katie!”

Katie raises her hands in mock surrender as both Paige and Azzi glare at her, “just looking out for my granddaughter’s best interest.”

“Stephie-bean,” Paige says again, maneuvering the little girl’s body to face her, “your Mama and I are very, very, sorry for having a sleepover without you. Please forgive us.”

Stephie looks at the adults kneeling in front of her with a contemplative expression, “you promise you’ll never do it again?”

“Never,” Azzi promises as Paige nods along.

“And when we go to the park today I can get three scoops of ice cream?” the little girl asks, the hint of a smile starting to breakthrough her lips.

“I don’t know about that one sweetheart. That’s a lot of ice-”

“Of course you can!”

“Paige!” Azzi hisses.

“And you’ll push me on the swing at the park for twenty minutes?”

“I’ll even push you for thirty minutes if you want,” Paige says and Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Just had to one-up it didn’t you Bueckers,” she mutters under her breath.

“And even though Miss Buecks said she’d get me fries at the park, I can get In-N-Out for dinner too?”

“You’re pushing it Stephie-bean-”

“In-N-Out for dinner sounds perfect,” Paige winks at Stephie as a full smile finally overtakes the little girl’s face.

“You’re hopeless,” Azzi chides the blonde, throwing her hands up exasperatedly but there’s no denying the grin on her face as she looks back at Stephie, “is that all your highness? Are we finally forgiven or did you want to ask us for more unhealthy things?”

“Just one more thing,” Stephie’s eyes twinkle with mischief, “Miss Buecks has to sleepover tonight too.”

Paige and Azzi share a toothy smile with each other before turning to the little girl.

“I think that could be arranged.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Stephie goes tumbling into her and Azzi, tiny arms somehow wrapping around both of their necks as she pulls them into a group hug. The two adults laugh, cocooning the little girl in between them as she rambles on about how excited she is. And Paige thinks that when all is said and done, when she looks back on her life, she’ll remember this moment as the one where everything started to finally come together. Right now, with Stephie's arms wrapped around her neck and Azzi’s hands curling around the little girl’s back to intertwine their fingers together, this moment here feels perfect. This moment feels like it belongs to Paige.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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eriklehnsherrific · 2 months ago

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re: jackie

okay i've been thinking about this for WEEKS and i think some of the younger yj fandom needs to hear this because we are getting stuck in this overly dualistic pattern of thinking where it has to be either "jackie was a mean girl" or "jackie was a sweet, perfect girl", when neither of those perspectives is 100% correct.

shauna's betrayal objectively made her a bad friend to jackie, but i think it would be a disservice to jackie's character to act like she was a good friend to shauna. yes, obviously what shauna did was worse, but let's not forget how the show makes a point of establishing jackie as a sweet, popular, but sometimes controlling/self-centered person during multiple moments in the first season.

for example, in the very first episode, jackie insults shauna's music taste and taste in fashion. at first, it's in sort of a joking manner that feels like that's how she and shauna banter, but the whole "wear the red dress moment" is there intentionally to show that jackie kind of steamrolls shauna, as evidenced by shauna snapping at her after. it's one thing to joke with friends, and its another to insult your best friend's taste to her face multiple times and then be shocked when her feelings are hurt. not to mention that shauna got into brown, an ivy league school, and never told jackie because she didn't want to disappoint her. i saw a tiktok comment that explained it really well, saying "even if the whole jeff/shauna thing never happened, jackie and shauna's friendship would still likely implode once they went to college, as jackie would likely see shauna going to brown as a betrayal".

in the wilderness, when shauna votes with tai to head down to the lake, jackie ices her out right away. she slutshames nat and again insults shauna to her face about how she "makes people feel judged" when shauna is literally the only one defending her for not contributing. during the fight, when shauna admits she only did soccer to please jackie and actually doesn't even like it, there's a sad implication there that shauna could've avoided being on that plane if she had stood up to jackie's steamrolling/if jackie didn't pressure her to do what she does.

that's why the notion that jackie was simply "too pure" for the wilderness isn't quite correct in my mind; in my opinion, one of the reason jackie struggles so much with adapting to the wilderness is that she is one of the few yellowjackets that hasn't experienced that much strife at home. it is mentioned that shauna's parents split up when she was quite young (plus the fact that her room is in what looks like an attic, which gives the impression that she doesn't get a lot of support from her family), tai had that whole experience with her grandma/the one eyed man, van's mother is an alcoholic, nat's mother is an alcoholic and her father was abusive (not to mention the horrible way he died in front of her), misty was severely bullied, mari saw her 4 yr old cousin die from cancer when she was only 12, etc. unlike the rest of her teammates, jackie lived a relatively sheltered life with a big and fancy house, parents who were still together, and was popular at school. that's not to say she didn't ever struggle (ex: she mentions how her mother is on a bunch of pills), but compared to the rest of the girls, jackie hasn't exactly been challenged in life the way they have. that's why she wasn't as ready to adapt as the rest of the girls; she didn't really have to overcome obstacles like this, at least independently of her parents, the way some of her teammates did. the result was a dynamic in which the girl who, at least on the surface, is rich, beautiful, popular, talented, and smart, was one of the first to die because she became alienated from her team.

all this to say, jackie objectively didn't deserve to die the way she did. but let's not forget she tried to kick shauna out first, and it was only because of the aforementioned reasons that made her not contribute that nobody except tai tried to stop it. hell, even coach didn't go out to get her and he was the only adult there. that's why i think the whole "jackie would never have let shauna sleep outside" argument doesn't really hold up. they are all teenagers, and while what shauna did with jeff is selfish and stupid and cruel, she was also just a teenage girl. none of them had any idea it would snow the next day. none of them had even considered that jackie could die out there. and it especially irks me that a lot of people say "shauna is the reason all the bad things happened to her, its her own fault", because nobody deserves to experience child loss (let alone a scared teenage girl who had to give birth without any medication or the support of her family, only for her baby to die). her relationship with jackie, regardless of how much shauna hurt her, did not cause her stillbirth.

what makes shauna's relationship with jackie so compelling is that she does have legitimate reason to resent jackie and jackie has legitimate reason to resent shauna. the idea that only one of them is a bad friend and only one of them is a good friend is an extreme oversimplification that removes the complexity of jackie as a character and their relationship as a whole.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets s3 #shauna shipman #jackie taylor #jackieshauna

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paulyenvol6 · 3 months ago

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Bruised, Not Broken

Based on this lovely request! Thank you so much for the idea and I hope you like it :)

Daemon and you have an ugly fight which leads to him leaving the red keep and you having a panic attack.

Contains: angst, anxiety, mentions of a miscarriage, very slight smut, mentions of physical pain, hotd typical themes like death and fighting, comfort

Wordcount: ~4.43k

Masterlist

The sun was about to touch the horizon when you looked out of the window and it looked so pretty that for a moment you forgot about your upset state of mind.

"Darling, can we please talk about this another time?" Daemon's voice brought you back to the moment and you rapidly turned your head to your husband remembering what he had just said.

"No, we can't. I can't believe you didn't even talk to me before agreeing."

Daemon shook his head like he was speaking to a child that couldn't comprehend the easiest connections and you felt the blood rushing in your ears.

"I'm pregnant, Daemon. I want you by my side when I deliver our child and I most certainly don't want our child to grow up without its father."

You walked towards him putting every emotion you felt in your eyes but his nostrils flared dangerously.

"So you think I would get killed off just like that by some idiot follower of the crabfeeder? My wife thinks I can't fight properly?"

You exhaled deeply and grabbed his upper arm.

"Of course I do. But don't you get the point? It is dangerous and you can't deny that. And as I said, what if you're not with me when I give birth?"

Daemon briefly looked down to the well-visible swell of your belly but then glared at you again.

"I will be back in time," was all he pressed but now your eyes filled with tears.

"You don't know that," you whispered your hands gripping the fabric of his tunic.

"I do, y/n, seven hells. The maesters say you're gonna deliver in two moons. That's plenty of time for me to put this crabfeeder in his place."

"But what if not? And what if the child comes too early?"

You searched for his eyes but this time Daemon avoided your gaze and instead looked to the side.

"This is our first child together, Daemon and I – I'm scared. You know that. I want you with me when it happens."

Now it was him who exhaled loudly and his lips curled in anger. "I will be with you. I promise you that."

"You can't promise me that."

Daemon scoffed and turned away from you all of the sudden.

"Then tell me what kind of marriage this is if my wife does not trust me? Mhm? If my wife thinks that I won't make it at the stepstones and thinks I'm too weak. And if my wife tells me what to do."

He pointed at you with small eyes but you wouldn't let him intimidate you. You pressed your lips together and made a step towards him.

"I fucking wish I could tell you what to do, Daemon Targaryen."

He threw his head back laughing loudly and aimlessly walked around the room.

"You do it all the time, y/n. You do it from the moment I wake up. The last thing I hear before falling asleep is you telling me what clothes to wear in the morning."

Your heartbeat fastened and you clenched your fists trying to fight the urge to scratch or squeeze something.

"How dare you. I want the best for this family and all I do is try to make sure that you're fine and that my child has a good life."

"Oh wait. So you're telling me what to wear because… You want the best for our child?"

You grinded your teeth. "This happened once," you hissed quietly but loud enough so you were sure he would hear you. "And it was because your brother wanted you to behave and present yourself nicely because he had guests."

"Yes. Exactly. So it is not enough to control my life but you're also conspiring with my brother because wild and messy Daemon needs to be controlled and can't be left alone because he might do something stupid. I'm not a fucking child and I don't need your or my brother to act like you're my parents."

You panted heavily and placed your head on your forehead.

"You really don't get it, do you?"

He closed his eyes and laughed uncontrolled. "Do you know that you always do this? You throw all these things at my head and when I don't agree with you you tell me that I'm just too stupid to understand you."

"That's enough, Daemon," you shouted and pushed yourself away from the table you had leaned against. "You don't listen to me, that's why. As soon as I critises something about you you always get into this defensive attitude instead of just listening. I'm not saying these things because I want to upset you."

"Mhm yes, you're just so caring and kind and it's me who brings in all the trouble. Why did you marry me then, huh? Have you only just now noticed that I'm not gonna spend my life chained to our chambers in king's landing while my men are fighting for our comfortable lives at the stepstones? Did you think I'd change my entire personality once we're married and I fucked your cunt once?"

"Shut up, Daemon. I mean it," you hissed close to tears.

"It's good, yes. Fucking you, I mean. But it's not that good."

"OUT. GET OUT RIGHT NOW!" you screamed and pushed against his chest.

For a brief moment he stood still ignoring your attempts of pushing him away and not moving an inch but soon he flared his nostrils one last time and then turned around to leave your chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daemon stomped rather than walked through the streets of king's landing and he was almost certain that there was actual smoke leaking out of his nose. His whole body was on fire and he knew that only two things could calm him now.

The first one was very difficult to do because he didn't know where to find a person that would willingly let him beat him up so Daemon now headed to his favourite brothel that was located on the street of silk. He rarely went there anymore now that he was married and had found a partner that enjoyed sex just as much as he did but tonight he found that he didn't have a choice but to return to this place that had once been his favourite place to be. You wouldn't open your legs for him tonight so someone else had to. There was no way Daemon would be able to sleep or eat or do anything in this state of mind so he had to calm himself.

He saw the familiar wooden sign from the far and contently sighed. There was this signiture smell of this part of the city and when he had been a young boy and Viserys had taken him to a brothel for the first time he had found it to be disgusting and obscene. Today he was in some way used to it. Oddly enough it smelled like a woman's cunt and as filthy as it felt, the scent now excited him.

Daemon entered the brothel and immediately noticed all the women lolling lasciviously on the couches. In the dim light the owner of the brothel, a short man that everyone only called One-Eyes Rog because he had lost his left eye in a fight in an inn a few years ago, didn't notice him at first but when his eyes fell on his silver hair he immediately bowed his head.

"My prince. What an honour it is to welcome you here."

It was obvious that One-Eyed Rog had suspected to have lost his loyal guest to you after his marriage which was why he was so surprised by his unexpected visit.

"What can I do for you, my prince? I just got a handful of new girls from the north. One of them, Ysa is her name, is the loveliest redhead you'll ever see. So young and soft, you'll feel like you're touching a maiden."

He laughed loudly which sounded more like a horse snorting and held his stomach as if he couldn't keep himself up. Perhaps he actually couldn't. Daemon didn't feel like spending so much time in One-Eyed Rog's presence so he rolled his eyes while walking past the man.

"Bring her up to my room. I expect I still have my own room," he whispered quietly and it sounded a lot more threatening that he had intended to.

"Of course, of course, my prince," the owner of the brothel assured him while bowing again. "Please, let me know if there is anything you require. Anything you want, we will bring it to you."

Daemon almost didn't hear his words because he was already making his way up the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

You panted heavily and placed your hand on your chest.

You just couldn't help it, his words had hurt you like little knives that he had driven right into your heart. And now you couldn't reach inside to pull them out so all you could do was wait and stare at the door.

You didn't even know whether you wanted Daemon to return. After all it had been you who threw him out but still you wanted him to tell you how sorry he was and that everything had been a big mistake.

'Fuck,' you thought and squeezed your eyes. Everything spinned around you and you quickly gripped the table to your right so you wouldn't fall to the ground. What if you would never reconcile? What if Daemon just left to fight at the stepstones and wouldn't come back? What if you would never see him again? What if your child would grow up without its father and what if you would have to raise it on your own?

The sob came unexpected but since you were alone in your room you didn't fight the waves of tears washing over you. You allowed yourself around ten minutes of self-pity during which you imagined the worst things that could happen but after there were no tears left to cry you raised your head again and inhaled a few times.

Your surrounding were still spinning so you blinked a few times until you felt brave enough to take a step forward. The stumbling that followed wasn't caused by your dizziness but rather by how powerless you felt and suddenly you remembered that it had been hours since you had eaten something. And that was although your doctors had told you to eat enough.

Fresh tears formed in your eyes because how was it that you didn't manage to care for your babe before it was even born? You sat down on a chair and stared at the bowl of fruit in front of you. You had to eat something, that much was clear but you didn't crave anything. For some reason the sight of the apple made your stomach turn and you were aware that you would have to force yourself.

Your trembling hand reached out for the bowl thinking that a peach was the least unbearable food to eat right now so you grabbed it and examined it closely. Despite feeling the rejection from your belly you moved it to your lips and took a careful bite.

It wasn't like it tasted bad. It was a peach after all. And still you almost wanted to throw up and immediately put the fruit down. Your face was drawn with disgust and despite everything the maesters had told you, you would have to ignore their advice tonight. You just couldn't eat anything.

Feeling very helpless and pathetic suddenly you placed your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. You didn't know how long you were laying there like this. Strangely, you suddenly felt numb and so tired that you couldn't even feel anger towards Daemon, so you just waited and wished you could go to sleep and wake up to find everything as it was before your ugly fight.

But of course none of the gods granted you this wish and instead you were soon disrupted by an awful pain in your core. It started as a light pull but soon you had to straighten up because you thought the position might be the problem. But it only became worse and you anxiously touched your belly.

'What is going on?' you thought and gasped for air when a sharp and intense ache spread throughout your body. It was way too early for you to give birth, that was clear, but what was this? You were more than familiar with the usual and normal difficulties during pregnancy, like morning sickness or your aching back but you had never felt something like this.

'Daemon,' was the first thing that shot into your head but in the very same second you remembered what had happened between the two of you and you wished you could slap yourself. Or Daemon.

Gods, why did this happen right now? You needed him now and you had no idea where he was. You tried to stand up because either way, you needed a maester to look after you and the babe but your knees were so wobbly that you instantly fell down on the chair again which caused another wave of pain. Shouting, it was then.

"Ser Tomas," you said loudly on the verge of crying and after repeating your words two more times the door sprang open and the knight rushed into the room.

"Princess. What is it?"

You held your heart trying to fight the panic that was slowly but surely creeping up on you.

"I-I… Something's wrong. Please get the maester," you whined and you felt your toes curl at the pain. What was happening? This couldn't be true, no. You didn't even want to form the thought in your head but what if – What if you were losing the child.

Suddenly, and you didn't even know when it had started, tears were rolling down your face and combined with your dizziness you feared that you might faint. Ser Tomas had answered you but you hadn't been able to understand him so all you could do was wait while the knight left the room as quickly as he had entered it and you just hoped that he went to get someone.

Daemon. You needed him so badly. You needed him to hold your hand and stroke your hair and tell you that everything would be fine. You needed him to rub over your belly and hear his voice close to your ear. Your eyes sprang open at another sting and you watched your stomach as if you could see if something was wrong that way.

And then, you didn't know how much time had passed the door opened again and Maester Fynnes rushed in as swiftly as his old body allowed him to.

"Princess," he shouted and although he was not the person you wished to see it gave you comfort to have somebody at your side.

"I-I don't know what's wrong," you managed to press. "It hurts, it hurts so bad. W-What i-if I… I don't wanna lose it."

Once again the veil of tears didn't allow you to make out your surroundings but this was your smallest problem right now.

"Breathe, princess. Breathe. That's the most important thing."

You tried to follow his advice and inhaled deeply but it didn't help you at all. It rather increased your panic because you feared you would suffocate as the lack of air entering your body made your head turn.

"I-I don't know what to do," you sobbed hands gripping the chair you were sitting on. The maester had sat down next to you and watched you concerned.

"It's too early for the child to arrive."

"I'm losing it," you cried panting hectically. "I-I think I'm losing the child."

"No, my princess. You need to calm down, it might just be – "

"NO," you interrupted him and threw your head back. "Fuckkkk…. I need Daemon. Please. Get him here. Now."

Maester Fynnes almost jumped to his feet and ran to the door. The next few minutes passed without you comprehending what was happening around you but you were too focused on the pain and trying to breathe to listen to the maester. Only when he was next to you again did you hear him.

"They will search for Daemon. I'm sure he will be back soon."

"Where is he?" you whispered and grabbed the maester's hand. "Where is he, why is he not here with me?"

Fynnes actually looked pitiful when your eyes had found his and soothingly ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

"I don't know, princess. But they will find him."

"I need him now. I need him, fuck… He's the only one – Please, find him. What if he has left? Is Caraxes still here, has he left on his back – "

"Shhh," Fynnes made. "This is not helping. It would be better for you to try and relax."

But how were you supposed to do that? Your thoughts were spinning, your heart was beating so fast that it was almost uncomfortable and your whole body was aching.

"I will bring you milk of the poppy, princess. It might help you sleep."

It took you a moment to comprehend his words but once you did you were shaking your head rapidly.

"No, no, no. I need to help the child. I can't sleep, I have to save it."

Maester Fynnes rose to his feet while patting your shoulder.

"The child will be fine. There is nothing you have to do beside calming yourself."

When the maester returned with a cup your head was still shaking. It was still shaking when he offered you the cup. But then at some point you were simply too tired to refuse and you were actually quite thirsty.

So even before your lips touched the cup your brain already felt cloudy and the liquid evenutally did the rest.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daemon licked over his lip and tasted sweat. He had his eyes closed and his head thrown back in pleasure but somehow he still wasn't in the present moment. His thoughts wandered to you over and over again no matter how deep he fucked Ysa or how tight she clenched around him.

"Oh fuck," she moaned and Daemon registered how her hands gripped the bed sheets but his body felt disconnected to his mind. He felt the pleasure he was receiving but it didn't reach his brain.

And yet he went on to chase his release, gripped her hips and reached around her body to cup her breasts but just as felt himself getting closer to the edge the door opened and Daemon exhaled in dissatisfaction.

He stopped fucking Ysa but stayed inside of her while turning his head to see who had disrupted them. Noticing that it was a knight from the red keep, he frowned.

"My prince. There is an urgent matter. You have to come back to the red keep, your wife has requested your presence!"

At first Daemon hesitated but he knew you so well. And he knew how proud you were. Never would you swallow your pride and ask for him if it wasn't a serious matter. That was why Daemon quickly pulled out of Ysa without looking at her for another second.

"What happened? Is she alright?" he asked while putting on his clothes. He didn't care whether the man would be able to recognise the concern in his voice; it was about getting a grip of the situation now as fast as possible.

"I don't know, my prince. I was just sent to search for you and I was told to be quick."

Daemon nodded and closed the buttons of his shirt with his slightly shaking fingers. "Let's go then."

The prince rushed through the streets next to the knight whose name he didn't know and the longer they went the more scared Daemon became. He wasn't the kind of person that was scared a lot, because what did he, the rogue prince have to be scared of?

But he knew that this was a different situation. You would never ask for him to come to you during a fight if it wasn't important. He remembered all too well how you didn't speak to him for 4 days last year after Daemon had called your traditional wedding gown "prim". You were stubborn. And you wouldn't send knights searching for him just to yell at him again.

That was why when the two men finally arrived at the keep Daemon felt a bitter feeling in his stomach. He really needed to check on you now and make sure that you were alright because despite all the fighting and disagreements he loved you deeply and would never leave your side.

"Where is she? Is she in my rooms?"

The knight nodded and Daemon noticed how he looked anxious as well which didn't exactly calm him either.

"I-I think so. They told me to bring you to your chambers."

"I will find the way."

With these words the prince started to walk through the corridor and once he was around the corner he started to run. Although he wasn't a particulary religious person suddenly he caught himself praying that you were fine. And then he finally arrived, energetically opened the door to your rooms and his eyes sprang open.

A man with a black scarf over his head stood by your bed, and Daemon could see the tip of a dagger glinting in the moonlight. His brain quickly processed and then he hasted towards him exactly in the same moment as the assassin started to approach your sleeping figure.

That was the moment the man noticed Daemon and shifted his attention to the prince as well.

"Little bastard," Daemon hissed while the man made his way to him and quickly pulled out his sword. By now you had woken up from the noise and shrieked when your mind comprehended what was happening.

"Daemon," you gasped and watched with big eyes how your husband swang his sword at the assassin.

It would be an exaggeration to say that it was a long fight. He was Daemon Targaryen after all and within seconds he had managed to disarm the man and then drew his sword through his throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, the man sank to the floor and then everything was quiet so all Daemon heard was your sobbing.

You had buried your face in your hands and uncontrollably cried and of course your husband had to do something about it now. He swiftly cleaned his sword with the assassin's cloak, dropped the weapon and then made his way towards you.

"Come here, darling," he whispered and lifted you up by your arms to pull you against his chest. "It's alright, I'm here. I'm here, love and you're safe."

His left hand held your back while his right stroked your hair and it felt so surreal and good at the same time that you simply couldn't stop crying.

"D-Daemon," you sobbed and buried your hands in his muscular arms.

"Yes, I know. Everything will be alright now."

"I-I… I," you muttered and looked up to him with teary and round eyes.

"What is it, babygirl? What happened?"

You crouched against his strong body hoping that everything would be easier if only you were as close as physically possible and in this moment you were so grateful for the way his arms wrapped around your back. He just knew you and what you needed right now.

It took you a few more minutes until you felt calm enough to explain to him what happened but even then your voice was trembling.

"It was so… It was terrible, I… A-After you left… I j-just sat there," you started and your husband nodded encouragingly.

"A-And then after s-some time…. I felt a p-pain in my stomach. I-I was so scared, Daemon…"

New tears welled in your eyes and your whole body was shaking while you buried your face in his neck that smelled so much like Daemon. His soft voice cut through the air while his hand repeatedly ran over the back of your head.

"What happened then, love?"

"I panicked. And I-I thought t-that I… That I'm g-gonna lose our child. S-So the maester came and I don't know… I don't remember everything. B-But I asked f-for you b-because I w-was so scared and then… Fynnes g-gave me milk of the p-poppy a-and I slept. Until now."

You finally looked at him again and his eyes looked so soft that you wondered how this was the same person you had fought with a few hours ago.

"Oh darling," he said quietly and pressed a kiss on your forehead. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. How are you now? Are you still in pain?"

Slowly you shook your head because to your relief the ache had actually vanished.

"No, it's better."

"That's so good to hear, my love."

You quietly let him hold you for a while until you couldn't wait anymore; you just had to share your biggest fear.

"B-But what if I actually l-lost it, Daemon? What if I had a miscarriage in my sleep?"

Your voice sounded so thin and weak that in any other case you would've felt embarrassed but right now you just couldn't think of anything but the babe in your womb.

"No, honey. Do you see any blood on the bed? You would've bled if you'd lost it." He placed a hand on your swollen belly. "Let's see. Perhaps we will hear it."

He rubbed over your skin a few times while kissing your shoulder. For a few minutes you only paid attention to Daemon's steady breathing and the warmth of his hand on your body until you felt something inside of you. It was a kick and you instantly teared up again.

"I-I felt it," you gasped and heard him chuckle softly.

"There you have it. It's alive and it's healthy, sweetling."

You slowly nodded and then lowered your tired head until you leaned against his shoulder.

"That's right, y/n. You can sleep. We will figure out everything tomorrow."

You were too tired to even think about his words. All you knew was that everything would be fine.

It didn't matter how much the two of you fought or if you had different opinions on some matters.

You loved it each other and this love would overshadow anything stepping in your way.

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thatonesonicfanfictionwriter · 4 months ago

Note

I got a super cute idea of Shadow and reader going out in the snow and playing around, having a snowball fight then crashing down together in a big pile of snow while laughing and smiling

(inspired by the fact that I went out and played in the snow bc you’re never too old to do that and It reminded me of a scene from my first anime ‘Wolf children’)

Also ello once more😄👋🏼

“Fun in the Snow”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Requested: Yes (by @shadowchan009 ).

Description: Shadow never really liked the snow. Good thing you were there to change his mind!

Notes: Eeee more excuses for fluff let’s goooo! I hope you enjoy! And hello again! ^^

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Ah, another winter day.

You were snuggled against your fluffy partner, Shadow, snow falling from the sky outside your window.

Wait, snow?

Sitting up, Shadow’s arms still around your waist, you look outside. Sure enough, there’s quite a lot of snow outside, probably about five inches. You mentally thank yourself for reminding Shadow to park his motorcycle in the garage.

You hear Shadow grumble from the bed, missing your warmth.

You smile at him, petting between his ears, causing him to start doing his click-like purr.

“Morning to you as well, Shadow,” you say.

“It’s too early,” Shadow mutters. “Come back to bed.”

“Shadow, it’s nearly nine,” you tell him. “I need to make us breakfast.”

He grumbles but lets go of your waist, and you give him a kiss on the forehead, getting up from the bed and heading off to the kitchen. Shadow follows behind, letting out a yawn.

“Eggs sound good?” you ask him.

Shadow makes a hum of affirmation, taking a spoon out from the utensil drawer before taking his coffee beans off of the counter and to the table with him. He eats a spoonful before looking over at the window, seeing the snow. He grumbles, but he feels thankful you reminded him to put his motorcycle in the garage.

“Alright! Eggs are done, made ‘em how you like ‘em, over-easy,” you say, placing the plate in front of Shadow, the plate housing the egg and two pieces of buttered toast.

“Thank you,” he says with a small smile. He always enjoyed your cooking.

While eating, your gaze falls on the snow again and you start remembering how you would play in the snow with your parents and the neighborhood kids.

Shadow didn’t get to experience any good memories with snow, you realize.

“Hey, Shadow?” you ask.

Shadow tilts his head in confusion.

“Would you want to go play in the snow?” you ask before quickly adding, “With me, of course.”

“Why would you want to play in the snow?” Shadow asks. “It’s cold and serves no purpose.”

“Come onnn, pleeeeease?” you ask.

Shadow lets out a sigh.

“Fine. But you’re wearing layers,” Shadow states.

“You’re wearing layers too, mister,” you tell him. “And don’t give me any of that ultimate lifeform crap.”

“Fine, fine,” Shadow mutters. “Finish your breakfast first.”

After you two finish said breakfast and finish getting ready for the day, the two of you start dressing up for the cold, with you putting on your snow pants, peacoat, normal coat, scarf, hat, boots, and double gloves on, forcing Shadow to do the same, minus the boots.

“I look like an idiot,” Shadow grumbles through his layers.

“You look fine, now come on! The snow awaits!” you say, dragging him outside.

As soon as you’re outside, you find a good place to sit, laying down on your back and making a snow angel with your arms and legs, Shadow watching with curiosity.

Once you deem the angel done, you sit back up and push yourself off the ground, admiring your creation.

“Ta-daaa! Snow angel!” you say.

“Hm. Interesting,” Shadow mutters. “What else is there to do?”

“Weeeell, we could do a snowball fight,” you tell him. Shadow tilts his head in confusion. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. You make a snowball with your gloves,” you start, doing so. “Then you throw ‘em at your opponent!”

You throw your snowball at Shadow and he ducks to avoid it, his hat being hit off in the process.

“Oh, you’re so on,” Shadow says with a playful smirk.

Game on.

The two of you rush to different patches of snow, with you being able to make more snowballs quicker due to you being experienced, but Shadow quickly catches on, you and him throwing snowball after snowball at each other until eventually, a snowball hits Shadow in the back of the head, one that wasn’t from you.

Shadow looks behind him and gets hit in the face with a snowball thrown by none other than Sonic the Hedgehog.

“Ha-ha! Gotcha, Shads!” Sonic says.

Shadow shakes his head, getting the snow off his face, and you and Shadow share a look, the both of you smirking.

“Uh, guys, what’s with the evil smirks?” Sonic asks.

You and Shadow both prepare a snowball, standing side-by-side, grinning evilly at Sonic.

“…Oh no,” Sonic mutters.

“TAG TEAMMM!” you yell out, you and Shadow throwing snowball after snowball at the running and screaming blue hedgehog, laughing your butts off.

After chasing Sonic off, the two of you fall back into the snow, out of breath, but also while laughing, a big smile on both of your faces.

“Did ya have fun?” you ask him.

“It was…interesting, to say the least,” Shadow states. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

You inwardly cheer.

“Wanna go in and get some hot cocoa?” you ask.

“That sounds perfect,” he says.

Shadow gets up and holds out a hand, pulling you out of the snow, the two of you heading inside after your awesome day out.

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic fanfiction #sonic characters x reader #sonic character x reader #x reader #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow the hedgehog #etc #insert tag here #tosffw writes #snow day shenanigans

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amyzworldds · 1 month ago

Text

Part Three: Shattered Roads

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Alt Ending

Y/N’s solo debut prep silences Seventeen’s dorm, the boys clinging to her cardboard cutout—until a devastating car accident lands her in a coma. Torn between tour duties and despair, they rally for her recovery. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Humor, Angst

Weeks had bled into a haze, and Y/N still hadn’t woken. Before the crash, Seventeen was mid-world tour, a whirlwind of stages and screams, with a month-long break planned before the Asia leg. Y/N had seized that gap to finish her solo debut, sy/ncing her promo with their return to the road. But the accident shattered everything—her coma stretched on, and the boys faced a gut-wrenching reality: the tour couldn’t stop. Fans had paid, venues were booked, and the machine of K-pop churned on, merciless.

At the airport, they shuffled through the crowd, a lifeless procession of hoodies and hats. Seungcheol led, eyes hollow, jaw tight. Carats waved signs—“We love you!” “Fighting!”—but the boys’ smiles were plastic, rehearsed. They’d visited Y/N that morning, a ritual now—her hospital room a shrine of their guilt and hope. Her parents were there too, taking shifts, but the boys still came, talking to her still form, singing off-key just to fill the silence. “Y/N-ah, you’d hate this quiet,” Seungcheol had murmured, squeezing her hand. “Wake up and yell at us, okay?”

DK had knelt by her bed, voice cracking, “We’re leaving for tour… don’t be mad we’re not here. We’ll be back fast.”

Hoshi lingered, staring at her bandaged head. “Your standee’s mocking us at home. I’d trade it for you in a heartbeat.”

Wonwoo adjusted her blanket, whispering, “Rest up… we need you back…”

Jun patted her arm, faint smile fading, “No pranks ‘til you’re here to laugh…”

Minghao traced her hand, voice soft, “Dance battle’s on hold—don’t forget…”

On the plane, the usual chaos was dead. No Y/N bouncing down the aisle, chattering—“Hoshi oppa, stop hogging the snacks!” or “Dino-yah, let’s film a tiktok!” Just silence, broken by the hum of engines. Seungcheol stared out the window, replaying her scream. Jeonghan clutched a pillow, eyes red. Vernon scrolled his phone, avoiding crash pics still circulating online. They were ghosts, bracing to fake it for millions.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Two countries down—Singapore, Jakarta—and they’d pulled it off. On stage, they smiled, danced, laughed, feeding Carats the energy they craved. Offstage, they collapsed, calling Y/N’s parents daily. “Any change?” Seungcheol would ask, voice tight.

“Still sleeping,” her mom would say, gentle but heavy. “She’s stable… just waiting.”

DK cried after every call, “She’s missing this—she’d love these crowds…”

Seungkwan nodded, wiping tears, “We’re half a group without her noise…”

Mingyu stared at his phone, her Weverse kimbap post still pinned. “I’d kill to hear her nag me again…”

Wonwoo pushed his glasses up, voice low, “She’d hate us being this quiet…”

Jun fidgeted, “I keep expecting her to jump out, yelling ‘Gotcha!’…”

Minghao sighed, “She’s the pulse… this feels wrong…” They soldiered on, but each show carved deeper into their hollow shells.

--------------------------------------------------------------

At the hospital, weeks had stacked into a gray blur. Then, one quiet afternoon, Y/N stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, the harsh light stabbing. She squinted, head throbbing, the room spinning into focus—white walls, beeping machines, flowers wilting by the bed. Her mind was a fog—flashes of headlights, a scream, the crash. Nothing else. “W-Where… what day is it?” she croaked, voice rusty.

The door creaked, and her mom stepped in, freezing. “Y/N?!” She dropped her bag, rushing over, tears spilling as she hugged her. “Oh my God, you’re awake—you’re awake!”

Her dad bolted out, shouting, “Doctor! She’s up!” Nurses and doctors swarmed, checking vitals, shining lights in her eyes. “She’s stable,” one said, smiling. “Needs rest, but she’s out of the woods—can leave soon.” The head bandage was gone, just bruises and a faint scar left.

Her mom sobbed, stroking her hair. “We were so scared… the boys too—they’ve been here every chance, wrecked. Especially Seungcheol—he still blames himself, even though we told him it’s not his fault.”

Y/N managed a weak laugh, throat dry. “Dorks… all of them. Cheol oppa’s probably crying into his apron still.” She paused, eyes lighting up. “Mom, don’t tell them I’m awake. I wanna surprise those idiots—they deserve a shock after all this.”

Her mom chuckled through tears, nodding. “You’re evil… fine, my lips are sealed.” She texted Manager Kim instead—“Y/N’s awake, don’t tell the boys—she wants to surprise them.” Kim grinned at his phone, replying, “She’s back—oh, they’re gonna lose it.”

Her dad squeezed her hand, teary but smiling. “You scared us, kid. Rest up—your oppas are gonna need oxygen when you pull this off.”

Y/N smirked, sinking into the pillows, already plotting. The tour trudged on without her, but she was awake—and ready to reclaim her chaos crown.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks had passed since Y/N woke from her coma, and though she wasn’t fully recovered—still a bit wobbly, head tender—she was back to her scheming self. The boys remained in the dark, slogging through their tour, and she wasn’t about to let them off easy. “Sorry, oppas, you’ll suffer a little longer—it’s me, Y/N, deal with it,” she muttered to herself, smirking in her hospital room. She’d been resting, regaining strength, and plotting a comeback that’d knock their socks off.

One afternoon, she cornered her doctor, eyes gleaming. “Doc, can I dance yet? Sing? I need to know—I’ve got plans!”

The doctor chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “No dancing—not yet, your body’s still healing. But singing? Go for it, just don’t push too hard.” Y/N grinned, clapping weakly. As a thank-you to the nurses and doctors who’d nursed her back from the brink, she staged a mini-concert right there in her private room. Propped on her bed, she belted one of her album tracks—voice a little raspy but alive—nurses tearing up, doctors swaying. “No posting this, okay?” she winked, mid-note. “It’s a secret—I’m cooking something big!” They nodded, charmed, pocketing their phones as she finished with a dramatic bow, nearly toppling off the bed.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, Seventeen trudged through their final tour leg, a robotic parade of forced smiles and lifeless steps. On stage, they dazzled Carats—Seungcheol’s dimples flashing, Hoshi’s tiger roars echoing—but backstage, they flopped onto couches like deflated balloons, texting Y/N’s mom for updates. “Still not awake,” her reply buzzed back, same as always.

DK groaned, sprawling across Mingyu. “It’s been months—how’s she still out? Is she Sleeping Beauty now?!”

Seungkwan snorted, though his eyes were red. “Yeah, waiting for her prince to kiss her awake—maybe we should send San.”

“Hey!” Hoshi yelped, tossing a water bottle at him. “I’d wake her with my tiger charm, but she’d just yell at me for drooling on her!”

Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, voice low, “She’s tougher than Sleeping Beauty… but it’s too long…”

Vernon slumped, staring at the ceiling, “I keep thinking she’ll barge in, yelling about my messy bunk…”

Minghao fidgeted with his rings, muttering, “She’d hate this quiet… it’s not her…”

Seungcheol forced a laugh, hollow. “Maybe she’s faking it—testing how long we’ll cry before she jumps us.” They chuckled, but the fear lingered, gnawing deeper with every show.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Unbeknownst to them, Y/N was orchestrating a masterpiece. Fully discharged but still on the down-low, she’d called Manager Kim, voice brimming with glee. “Oppa, I’ve got a plan—huge surprise, for the boys and Carats! Can we pull it off at their last show?”

“What now, you gremlin?” Kim laughed, already hooked.

“Okay, listen—we fake a technical glitch mid-concert, stop their performance. I hide in a room, lights go out, boys get ushered offstage. Then I sneak on, lights stay off, and I sing a song from my album—boom, surprise! They’ll lose their minds!”

Kim cackled, “You’re evil—I love it. Let’s do it.”

Now, at the final concert venue, Y/N sat in a tucked-away room, makeup artist dabbing at her face, stylist fussing with her outfit—a sparkly number that screamed “I’m back, losers!” She was still a little shaky, but her spirit was ablaze. “They’re gonna cry harder than when they thought I ditched them,” she snickered, peering at her reflection. “Perfect—time to ruin their day in the best way.”

Her makeup artist grinned, “They’ve got no clue—you’re a menace.”

“It’s my love language,” Y/N shot back, stretching her voice with a soft hum. She waited for her cue—two songs from the end—heart pounding with mischief. The boys, oblivious robots on stage, had no idea their Sleeping Beauty was about to wake up and wreck their world.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The boys was mid-“Super” performance, tearing up the stage—Seungcheol belting, Hoshi roaring, Mingyu flexing —when the music screeched to a halt. Lights snapped off, plunging the arena into dark chaos. Carats gasped, the boys froze mid-step, and confusion erupted.

“What the—?!” Seungcheol barked, spinning around. “Did the sound guy fall asleep?!”

“Hyung, what’s happening?!” DK yelped, clutching Mingyu’s arm. “Are the lights gonna spark? What if the stage catches fire?! Carats are out there!”

“Calm down, it’s not a disaster movie!” Mingyu hissed, though he looked spooked too. “But seriously, what’s up? Are we cursed now?!”

A staff member bolted onstage, flustered, whispering to Seungcheol, “Technical glitch—backstage, now!” His panic was contagious, and the boys stumbled off, muttering.

“Technical glitch my foot!” Hoshi grumbled, tripping over a cable. “This better not be Hoshi sabotage—I’m too pretty to die in a spark shower!”

Backstage, they piled into a room, sweaty and jittery. “Okay, someone explain!” Seungcheol snapped, pacing like a caged lion. “What’s broken? The fans—Carats—what happens to them?!”

DK flopped onto a couch, dramatic. “First Y/N, now this? The universe hates us!”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” Jun muttered, half-serious. “She’s punishing us from her coma…”

“Don’t say that!” Seungkwan whacked him, eyes wide. “She’s just sleeping—don’t jinx it!”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, in a hidden room, Y/N was a one-woman hurricane—twirling in her sparkly pink cocktail dress, chaotically “dancing” to no music. Manager Kim grabbed her shoulders, “Y/N, sit down! You’re still recovering—doctor said no dancing!”

She cackled, spinning out of his grip. “Relax, oppa! I could dance Maestro backward and Aju Nice upside down! I’m back—deal with it!”

“You’re a menace,” Kim groaned, throwing up his hands. “Fine, but if you collapse, I’m not carrying you!”

“Pfft, I’d make you anyway,” she shot back, winking. A staff member peeked in, signaling—showtime. Y/N tiptoed out, giggling, “Time to ruin their night—let’s go!” The hall was pitch-black, staff bustling onstage “fixing” things, Carats whispering in confusion. Y/N slipped into position—center stage, mic in hand—unseen, a pink shadow in the dark.

A minute ticked by, staff scurried off, and then—her song kicked in, soft and haunting from her album. She sang, voice ringing clear, and the lights flared up, spotlight pinning her in all her glittery glory. Carats lost it—screams shook the roof, “Y/N! Y/N!” echoing like a tidal wave.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Backstage, the boys were a mess. Seungcheol ranted, “These technicians—do they even test stuff?! We’re mid-tour, and now we’re stuck in a blackout—Carats deserve better!”

“Coups, chill,” Joshua tried, but Seungcheol spun on him.

“Chill?! What if this cuts the show short? Fans paid for this!”

Minghao slumped, “Maybe it’s just bad wiring… or Y/N’s ghost…”

“She’s not a ghost!” Wonwoo snapped, glasses slipping. “But yeah, this sucks…”

Then—the screams hit. Not panic—pure joy. The boys froze as “Y/N! Y/N!” chants roared through the walls, followed by her voice—live, singing her solo track. Seungcheol stopped pacing, “Wait… that’s—?!”

DK bolted upright, “Her song?! Is this a prank?!”

Hoshi peeked out the door—no one there. “That’s her voice—live! She’s here?!”

They locked eyes, disbelief morphing to glee. “She’s awake!” Seungkwan shrieked, and they tore out, sprinting to the stage like kids on sugar.

There she was—Y/N, mid-stage, pink dress twinkling, belting her heart out. Smiles cracked their faces, and restraint vanished. Hoshi led the charge, “Y/N-IE!”—and they swarmed her, a 13-man pile-on. The mic flew from her hand, clattering as she laughed, buried under hugs.

“You’re back! You’re alive!” DK wailed, squeezing her like a teddy bear.

“Our princess—our chaos queen!” Seungkwan yelled, jumping.

“I knew you’d wake up!” Mingyu sobbed, nearly lifting her off the ground.

“Never scare us like that again!” Seungcheol roared, ruffling her hair, tears streaking.

Wonwoo grinned, glasses fogged, “You owe me a book talk—don’t forget!”

Jun laughed, “Prank’s on us now, huh? You win!”

Minghao spun her gently, “Dance battle’s back on—you’re mine!”

Y/N shoved them off, cackling, snatching her mic. “Eww, get off me, you sweaty dorks! I’m a princess—can’t you see I’m mid-concert?! You’re crashing my stage like sasaengs—out!” She waved them away, dramatic, but her grin was pure sunshine.

“Crashing?!” Hoshi yelped, clutching her arm. “We’re your VIPs! We’re staying!”

“Yeah, good luck kicking us off!” Dino taunted, hopping around her.

“You’re back—that’s all that matters!” Vernon laughed, filming the chaos.

“I’ll allow it,” she smirked, then faced the crowd, “Carats, say hi to my annoying members—they missed me too much to stay away!” The arena erupted, fans screaming as the boys bounced like overexcited puppies.

“We’re never letting you out of sight again!” Jeonghan declared, slinging an arm around her.

“Try it—I’ll hide with 13 more standees!” she fired back, and they groaned, laughing.

The concert rolled on, Y/N finishing her song with 13 giddy shadows behind her, their chaos queen reclaimed—pink dress and all.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N barely got through her solo song before Seventeen turned it into a hug-fest. She’d belt a line—“I’m shining bright, oh yeah!”—and DK would snatch her into a bear hug, “You’re back, my sunshine!” She’d wiggle free, hit another note, only for Mingyu to swoop in, “Never leaving you again!”—lifting her off her feet. Seungkwan dove next, “My turn, you pink gremlin!”—and she’d screech, “Let me sing, you dorks!” The mic became a hot potato, bouncing between her and the floor as Carats howled with laughter.

The staff finally intervened, rushing onstage like zookeepers. “Y/N, off—now!” one barked, grabbing her arm. “Doctor’s orders—no overdoing it!”

“What?! I’m fine!” she protested, flailing as they dragged her off. “I just sang three lines—let me live!”

Manager Kim loomed backstage, arms crossed, “You just got out of a coma—no dancing, no chaos! You’re watching, not performing!”

“Boo, you’re no fun!” Y/N pouted, plopping onto a chair, legs kicking. “Fine, let the boys sweat it out—I’ll be the princess in the back!”

The boys took the stage, powering through their set—Super, Clap, Hot—sweat flying, smiles plastered for Carats. Y/N watched, smirking, plotting. “They think I’m done? Cute,” she muttered, eyeing the encore like a hawk.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The final encore hit—Aju Nice—and the boys were jumps, Carats waving lightsticks, when Y/N decided rules were optional. She bolted from backstage, pink dress glittering, and leapt onto the stage like a caffeinated bunny. “Surprise, losers—I’m back!” she yelled, jumping, spinning, and running laps around them.

Seungcheol’s jaw dropped, “Y/N, what are you doing?! Sit down!” He lunged to grab her, but she dodged, cackling.

“No way, Cheol-oppa—I’m alive, let me jump!” She hopped like a kangaroo, mic in hand, belting off-key, “Oneul nan maryaaAaaAA!!!

DK flailed, “You’re gonna collapse! Stop it!” He chased her, arms out, but she zigzagged, giggling.

“Catch me if you can, slowpoke!” she taunted, darting past Mingyu, who yelped, “Y/N-ah, the doctor’s gonna kill us!”

Woozi groaned, still singing, “Someone get her—she’s a liability!”

But Hoshi? Hoshi was her chaos soulmate. He grinned, “That’s my girl—let’s go!” He joined her, leaping like a tiger on a trampoline, “Jump with me, Y/N-ie!”

“Hoshi oppa, you’re the best!” she cheered, and they bounced together, a pink tornado of madness. Carats screamed louder, loving the anarchy.

Seungcheol roared, “Hoshi, don’t encourage her! She’s fragile!”

“Fragile?!” Y/N spun, mock-offended. “I survived a car flip—I’m invincible! Watch this!” She attempted a backflip, wobbled, and Jun caught her mid-stumble, “Nice try, princess—stick to jumping!”

“I’m helping!” Hoshi argued, hopping beside her. “She’s happier this way!”

Minghao sighed, “You’re both gonna end up in casts…”—but he couldn’t hide his grin.

Vernon filmed, laughing, “This is gold—Y/N’s back, and we’re doomed!”

Seungkwan tackled her into a hug, “Stop moving, you pink disaster—I missed you too much to lose you again!”

“Get off, I’m mid-performance!” she squawked, shoving him, only for Joshua to scoop her up, “Time out, chaos queen—sing, don’t sprint!”

“Put me down, Shua-oppa—I’m the encore star!” she flailed, kicking, as Wonwoo chuckled, “You’re starring in a hospital sequel if you keep this up!”

The staff hovered, panicked, but Manager Kim threw up his hands backstage, “She’s unstoppable—let her have it!”

Y/N broke free, grabbed her mic, and belted the final note—“Oneul nan maryaAa!!!”—jumping one last time before collapsing into Hoshi’s arms, laughing. “Told you I’m fine!”

“You’re insane!” Seungcheol yelled, but his smile betrayed him as they swarmed her again, a sweaty, giggling mess.

Carats chanted her name, the boys half-scolding, half-celebrating, and Hoshi high-fived her, “Best encore ever—let’s do it again tomorrow!”

“Over my dead body!” Kim shouted from the wings, and Y/N just winked, “Too late, oppa—I’m back!”

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trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

Text

dreamland: the rough patch

authors note: idk. i wanted to write something. this is what came out of my opening google docs. been sitting on this concept for a while anyway, so why not?

not really tagging anyone, cause idk, this is too short for a taglist. if ya see it, ya see it. 😭

warnings: angst

*** gif belongs to @dejameflorecer ***

words: 1.7k (see, i can write short shit!)

The door being closed does nothing.

It muffles, but it doesn’t sound it out completely. Doesn’t provide the soundproof barrier prayed and hoped for by Leya who sits on her bed, her baby sister pressed up against her side, the story book of the night on her lap.

Though something tells her that Aroha isn’t paying attention to the tale of a beautiful princess and the handsome prince who came to save her.

She’s paying attention to something else entirely.

“And the princess said to the prince—”

“Leya?”

The minute Aroha’s soft voice interrupts Cataleya from finishing her sentence, she knows what’s about to be asked. She just does.

Leya does her best to maintain her smile. “Yes, Roro?”

Aroha’s previously neutral expression slips into something solemn and almost fearful. “Why are mommy and daddy fighting again?”

Leya’s eyes shut.

She knew it.

Knew it was only a matter of time before it was asked. Aroha may only be five, but she has eyes. Eyes that can see every time their parents avoid eye contact or minimally interact when in the same room. Can see every time it’s Leya who knocks on her door to read her a bedtime story cause mommy and daddy are “busy.” Ears that can hear the arguing that’s transpired more often than usual for their parents.

Arguing that’s been happening the past two weeks. Increasing in frequency. And intensity.

But, Aroha is also only five, thus she doesn’t need to know all the ins and outs. Truth be told, Cataleya doesn’t either. She tries not to think too much about it, as it spikes her own anxiety. Causes her to face what could be a devastating reality.

A knock on the door leads to it opening, followed by a set of faces. Leya and Aroha’s siblings. All of them.

And, they all look the same sans Tama and Lina.

Worried.

Wordlessly, the kids load into Leya’s room, Lina closing the door behind them. Samaria is the first to speak.

“They’re fighting again.”

Leya casts a glance over to her twin, grateful for her sudden presence. Lina has always been much better at handling things like this.

“Couples fight sometimes, Aria,” she supplies, forcing a small smile. Leya and Tama see right through it. “It happens.”

Koa is the first to speak up, poking a hole in the defense. “But, they’ve been fighting a lot.” He looks over at his twin, prompting Kai to supply his own counter as well.

“And mom and dad never fight.”

Leya doesn’t say anything. That’s not necessarily true. She’s definitely seen them argue on an occasion or two.

But….never like this.

It’s never been like this.

“They’ve just got a lot going on, you guys.” Tama attempts to cheer up his younger siblings, seeing the worry on all their faces. “That’s all.”

But, it’s Aroha who says and voices what all of the Reign’s kids are secretly thinking, just afraid to say.

Looking up at Leya, Lina, and Tama, her biggest siblings, she asks in the most innocent, heartbreaking voice, “are mommy and daddy gonna get a divorce?” Just hearing it makes Leya’s stomach drop. A shared sentiment for all the kids.

Still, she does her best to remain calm. “Aroha….” Cataleya closes the book, pulling Aroha onto her lap as the rest of the kids sit on the edge of her bed and the seats spread across her room. “Where—where did you learn about that?”

Aroha pouts, her voice so soft and sweet in nature. “My friend Raya’s mommy and daddy got a divorce, and now she only sometimes sees her mommy and sometimes sees her daddy.” Aroha’s eyes begin to water, followed by sniffling. “I don’t wanna live with mommy or daddy. I wanna live with mommy and daddy.”

“Oh, Roro….” Cataleya welcomes her into her chest, allowing her to silent cry, to let out her emotions. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Mom and dad would never get a divorce….right?” A tentative, nervous question asked by Samaria but issued to the OG’s.

“They would never split us up,” Kai says with a level of conviction that wavers and fumbles as he too falls victim to his fears. “Right?”

It’s only then when the indecision washes over to Lina that she takes charge. “No.” She says, voice firm, drawing the attention of everyone to her. “Mom and dad are not going to get a divorce. No one is separating us. We’re a family, and that’s never going to change.”

Tama nods, recognizing that even if he’s struggling with his own anxiety about the unexpected onset of his parents' marriage problems, there’s no need to worry his siblings more than they already are. “Lina’s right. Mom and dad love each other. They’re just going through something. They’ll figure it out.”

Words that seem to somewhat settle Samaria, Koa, and Kai. Aroha requires a little more consolation from Leya, gentle kisses pressed to the top of her bonnet covered head.

But, as the Reigns’ children work to comfort each other, the cause of said distress continues, thrives, prolongs longer than necessary down the hall, behind closed doors but never out of hearing distance.

Not from the children.

“Roman.” Solana closes her eyes and rubs her temples. This all feels so circular. “I don’t understand what you’re not understanding.” Because, she truly doesn’t. “I’m just asking you to commu—”

“Communicate with you, I know,” he cuts her off. Solana focuses on him. He looks just as exhausted as she feels. “I heard you the first time, Solana.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” She snaps, shaking her head. “Why do I have to keep repeating myself?” Without giving him a chance to respond, she continues, pointing out, “it takes five seconds to text me and tell me you’ll be home late—”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I don’t have five seconds, okay?” He cuts her off once more, running his hand over his face. “I text you when I can, Sol. I always do.”

She scoffs, looking away before crossing her arms. “A half hour after dinner time is not soon enough, Roman.” She points out what was an issue once again just earlier this evening. “I’m worried about you. The kids are wondering where you are—”

“They should know I’m working,” he counters, adding with a level of a defensiveness. “You should tell them I’m working, so they don’t worry.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll just add it to the list of the other 50 million things I’m doing.” Solana says with all the sarcasm before switching back to seriousness. “Roman, I am stretched so thin right now—”

“And you don’t think I am?” He challenges. “Why do you think I’ve been getting back so late?”

Solana hesitates to respond, readying for a generic answer but ultimately settles on the truth. “I don’t even know anymore.”

If she didn’t have her husband’s attention, she most definitely has it now. Roman’s face drops. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She doesn’t say anything at first, partially wishing she hadn’t let the intrusive thoughts win. But, with the genie out the bottle, there’s no backing away from it now.

“You’re secretive. You come home much later than you have before. You….you don’t talk to me like you used to, and and you—you haven’t touched me—” She stops herself, hating the emotion building up. One minute she was angry with him, and now she’s on the brink of tears. “I just don’t know what’s going on—”

“What are you accusing me of, Solana?” A pointed, straight-forward question that he answers for himself, the devastation, hurt, and anger all palpable. “What, you think I’m fucking cheating on you? Is that what you think?”

Solana shakes her head, standing up from the bed. This is too much. “I can’t do this right now, Roman.”

“No.” He stops her, moving before her, blocking her path from the bathroom. Her destination. “We’re gonna have this discussion right now—”

“I said I don’t want to, Roman.”

“I don’t care.”

The wrong answer, because as saddened as Solana was before, she’s irritated now. Stepping past him, she stalks over to her dresser, pulling out a change of clothes. “I said no, Roman.” Swallowing, she turns around and matches his intense gaze. “You used to listen to me when I said that.”

A slap in the face. It’s evident in the hurt that flashes in his eyes. That’s heard as he replies, evenly, “and, you used to trust me.”

A devastating blow. On both ends. One that renders both silent for a good moment or two, before Roman is back at it.

“Solana, we need to talk about thi—”

“I can’t, Roman—”

“Avoiding it isn’t going—”

“They found something when I went in for my mammogram.”

Probably the most unexpected thing to leave either set of mouths and most definitelysomething Solana didn’t want to share. Not right now. Not like this.

Because the look on Roman’s face is something she can barely stand to tolerate. His tone and volume have shifted almost entirely. “Wh—what?” She looks away, the tears finally spilling over. “What do you mean they fo—”

“I have follow up testing next week, but in the meantime, I need to not deal with all this stress.” She clasps her hands together, taking a deep breath, voice cracking at the end. “So, when I say I can’t deal with this shit right now, Roman…I can’t deal with it.”

Solana could and maybe should give him more than that. Should elaborate on what is easily the biggest bombshell he—and she—have faced in a while. If, she’s even facing it, because the fact that she’s been sitting on such a thing for almost two weeks speaks volumes. Roman’s correct in that they need to talk, need to sit down and actually try to conversate without it turning into an argument.

But, not tonight.

Tonight, she can’t and won’t think about anything.

Because thinking about it means confronting what could easily be a terrifying reality.

One she refuses to acknowledge.

Not….not unless it becomes something.

#roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #arisnotebook

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jscrawls · 5 days ago

Text

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, familial fighting, mentions of coma.

Part 24: big boy talk

🔹🔹🔹

Damian’s sneakers tap loudly on the hardwood floor on his bedroom.

damian hasn’t felt settled since that talk with (name), the panicked look in their eyes, the avoidant body language, it’s been nagging at him. Haunting his thoughts at the most inopportune times. when he’s pacing the halls of the manor right after they'd silently left him, the next morning when alfred stiffly handed him a plate as a suffocating silence permeated the kitchen, when the gym teachers droning on about safety protocols during emergencies, it’s starting to drive him nuts. How is he supposed to train like this?….

they’re so….what does he even call it, erratic? manic? he’s never pictured himself struggling to really word things quite like this, has he been in denial plenty of times? yes, he can admit that to himself easily. but this stumps him, (name) stumps him. he likes routine, order. and (name) was very routine until they weren’t.

’The man attacked me and…. My child, attempted to kidnap me and threatened to murder the boy. You might not like how it looks but I did my job as a guardian.’

’….damian, you’re not responsible for me. in any way, shape or form. i’m an adult, you’re a child. you’re supposed to do….child things, i don’t know. The point is that anything that happens to me isn't your fault. Neither you or Bruce are my guard dogs.’

’…are you okay?’

(name) wasn’t routine anymore, they don’t let him protect them. do what he needs to do, his time in the manor was something that could be marked by how his relationship with his step-parent evolved, his first months here were rough. living in a new country, new languages and rules, it was tough. not that he complained. he was of strong stock after all, but his first interactions with (name) weren’t…..great.

he’d felt like the doting was a poor attempt to replace talia, the little snacks, scheduled lessons after school, trying to persuade him from the robin mantle when dick had offered it to him, he felt stifled…..then he watched them doing it to everyone else, pestering dick to take his vitamins everyday, taking tim’s sodas away when it was late, going to jason’s apartment to make sure he was eating properly, having the manor renovated to be wheelchair accessible for when barbara visited.

it didn’t hit him all at once, it was a gradual process in realizing that (name) was just….soft. they weren’t gruff and hardtack like bruce, refined and ambitious like Talia, (name) was their own thing entirely.

he’d grown comfortable in their care, and that comfort had turned into a desire to protect that comfort and tenderness they offered. that was just his place here, then his role just had to be disrupted when he failed to do his duty….

damian stops his pacing, his fists clench hard enough to hurt as he thinks about that stupid night at the gala. their limp, bloody body on the floor as damian tried his hardest to staunch the bleeding without jostling them, his hands and suit were stained by the time tim had shoved through the chaos to find them. he’d cried like a little child when they’d stopped breathing…..

he can’t deal with this right now, he just can’t. with a huff damian slips out of his room, stomping down the halls aimlessly in search of something to distract himself with, maybe he’ll go walk titus, or train in the cave.

the muted voices of his family in the library brings him to a stop, damian’s brows furrowing as he steps closer to listen in, are they arguing?

“-i’m sorry, alfred but i can’t just ignore the potential security risk here. thing’s could go south in a blink!” damian hears soft crunching steps accompanying tim’s voice, he’s wearing his shoes on the carpet again isn’t he.

damian slowly presses his ear against the door, straining to hear who else is in the room, obviously there’s tim and alfred….

“calm down and let’s just think about this, okay? haven’t you been doing research on amnesia? how’s that going?” dick speaks up, clearly there was a tense discussion being held without damian.

“ugh, don’t even remind me of that. if i read one more journal entry about-” tim gets cut off before he can continue. “so, nothing new at all. got it.” damian can practically hear the eyeroll and the look dick or alfred give jason as he speaks, is there a dang family reunion in there?

“boy’s, knock it off. i just wanted to….update you all, on our next steps moving forward with operator.” bruce’s voice groans out exasperatedly, sounding quieter despite damian’s efforts to quiet his breathing, slow his heartbeat. maybe he’s across the room? the mention of operator certainly gets his attention, damian leans harder against the door, eyes subconsciously narrowing as he tries to make out who’s saying what.

in the momentary silence he hears a small rattle, like someone bumped the coffee table maybe? “i think he’s officially fully gone off the deep end, babs. you and cass owe me five dollars and a coffee with extra whip.”

okay, damian nearly sighs as he hears stephanie stage whispering to presumably barbara, maybe cass too? what the hell is going on here!? they’re really talking about (name) without even thinking to tell him? it’s not like he’s not involved in this.

the door suddenly cracks open, startled, damian meets cass’ dark eyes with an awkward grimace as he straightens up and tries to pretend he wasn’t just….eavesdropping on them. to her credit, cass doesn’t look surprised to see him at all, she just pulls the door fully open and gestures with a tilt of her head for him to join the party. “hey.”

damian suppresses any expression when cass’ acknowledgement of him pulls attention towards the libraries doors, many sets of eyes focus on him. “…..hey cass.”

bruce quickly sidesteps the coffee table, dodging a stray stephanie to stand in front of him while damian glances around the room at all the faces. dick smiles thinly at him from where he’s sitting on the arm of an armchair near the long-empty fireplace, his legs crossed in a weirdly polite pose. jason nods his head at him in that specific way he does, jerking his chin up at him without bothering to even sit up from the couch he’s sprawled out on.

barbara briefly nods at him from dick’s right-hand side, her attention seems to mostly be glued to her phone in her lap. stephanie pats his shoulder when she slips past him to go pester barbara just as cass slipped behind everyone to observe the room. alfred and duke both occupy the couch opposite jasons, wearing differing expressions as they acknowledge damians presence. tim’s the only other one standing, his arms are tightly crossed over his chest as he looks up at the ceiling with a distainful scowl on his face, the sight of him triggers damians little brother instinct to piss him off.

a long hush falls over over the library, everyone exchanging knowing glances like damian’s an intruder to some secret knowledge, an annoyed tension clicks in his jaw at the implication. “….hey, what’s going on here?…..”

damian tries not to sound accusatory as he looks up at his father standing before him, damian quickly takes in the slightly disheveled appearance of the usually proud man. the multicolored bruise on his face standing out like a harsh reminder of how far things have spiraled in their lives.

“just having a chat, were you spying on us?” bruce looks half as much amused as he does exhausted, a small, knowing smile pulls the bruise on his face in a way that makes damian wince just the slightest bit. bruce puts his hands on his hips with an expectant air about him as he looks damian in the eye. “……no? i was just walking by…..why are you guys talking about (name) without me?”

“this isn’t about (name) specifically…it’s nothing that should concern you damian, you should go get ready for tonight.” bruce gestures his head towards the grandfather clock against the far wall before pawing through his unkempt hair subconsciously if the slight pause before he quickly drops his hand says anything.

damians’s nose wrinkles at the dismissive tone he uses, is he not worth even talking to about this? but everyone else is here?? Minor discomfort gives way to irritation as he looks up at his father. Is he keeping things from him?

“…i think it does, though... nearly all these incidents have revolved around me in some way, haven’t they?” he frowns up at Bruce and resists the urge to cross his arms, he's trying not to look like a petulant little boy stamping his foot at any perceived slight.

Tim though, snorts through his nose in irritation and throws a pointed look at Damian, leaning over to see around Bruce's back and for a moment, Damian imagine him tripping over his own two feet and falling flat on his face in front of everyone. But alas he remains standing.

“oh come off it, me and duke and cass could say the same dude. let the adults have a conversation about adult topics.” Tim's words are accompanied by a slight eye roll and another snort. Is he really doing this right here and now?

Damian’s mood plummets quickly as Steph coughs into her fist and Barbara sighs loudly, sensing where this is heading. What's his fucking problem? He's been getting on his nerves more and more lately and Damian is fed. Up.

With a snarl on his lips Damian snaps at Tim. “shut your face, you’ve been a judgemental dick ever since the hospital thing. you just love having an excuse to act like a paranoid -”

“damian, enough.” Bruce's stern command cuts him off before he can really let Tim know what he thinks, he gives Tim a pointed look over his shoulder but quickly grabs the back of Damian's shirt like he thinks he's going to make a run for the older boy. Damian's thinking about it but shush.

Alfred stands up from his place on the couch and shuffles over to the both of them, placing a hand on Damian's shoulder “young man, this isn’t the time nor the place to air our grievances. Please, don't start any fights with your family.”

This feels so unfair! They're literally doing just that but he can't get a word in edgewise? With an angry huff Damian shrugs the two older men's hands off and steps back, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks over every person in the room before his eyes again settle on his father. Expression hardening when he sees Bruce sigh and look up at the ceiling as if anticipating something.

“you mean it’s not the place for me to air my grievances. but you two and tim and the fucking mailman get to say whatever you want about my incidents. right.”

“young man, language.” Alfred sighs out without much bite while at the same time Bruce frowns.

“damian chill out.” Dick shakes his head disapprovingly at the boy but quickly turns his attention towards Bruce. “…he does have a point though, B. the stuff with operator affects everyone.”

Bruce grimaces slightly as his oldest boy points out the obvious to him, he slides a hand through his graying hair again before he gestures for Damian to come closer. “I….i’m sorry damian, no one here was trying to make you feel like your opinion doesn’t count. it does. this is just a difficult topic that’s clearly bothering you a lot…”

Damian's not pleased with just some placating words though.

“then stop treating me like a little child, i’m probably more mature about this than drake. i shouldn’t be shoehorned into the closet just so you don’t have to think about my side of things. the way i see it you’re all treating (name) so oddly i’m starting to think you’re waiting for them to snap.”

He's mad, but more than that he's frustrated. With the situation, the others, himself. He's watched his parent struggle and withdraw from everyone, going from curious and polite to nearly hostile in their fear ever since they returned home. Why is he the only one really trying to actually reach out to them? Why is it so easy for the family to cut themselves off from (name)?

Jason clears his throat and mumbles under his breath with an amused gleam in his eye. “the kid’s got a point. ” Barbara rolls her eyes and just shushes Jason. “jay, don’t.”

Tim glances between Jason and Damian with furrowed brows and his scowl deepens as he huffs with a near scolding tone. “no he doesn’t, don’t encourage him jason. damian’s letting guilt dictate his view of the clearly weird situation here, just because you were with them at the gala doesn’t mean you have to ignore the massive red flags waving above their head now dude.”

Tim looks him directly in the eye as he speaks, it's like he thinks Damian's a damn moron for wanting to trust their parent. If Damian was trying to keep his cool before he's certainly not now, he's not so unself aware as to let something actually dangerous slip by just because he feels a little bad.

Bruce quickly steps in-between the boys line of vision before anything physical could potentially happen. “tim! that’s enough you two. this isn’t brawl hour.”

Bruce sighs loudly and steps forward to wrap an arm around Damian's shoulder comfortingly, hand rubbing up and down his back. Damian just feels more irritated when he sees how his father can be so…. This, for his young, but not his own spouse.

Stephanie decides now is the time to helpfully chime in. “just let them work it out, things have been tense for too long anyhow.”

She shrugs while winking at Damian, clearly half the people in this room want him to be their entertainment. Damian can do that.

“steph don’t encourage the brat…” Tim sighs out while turning his back to him and their father, moving to find a seat on one of the couches near Alfred. He drops down with a weary grunt like an old man with bad knees.

Damian's quick to snap back at him, shrugging away from Bruce to stand in the middle of the library and address his annoying older brother. “don’t call me a brat when you’ve been whining for months about this. tim let me ask you something, i’ll ask all of you actually. are you happy they woke up? if (name) never woke up from their coma would that be better.”

He knows it's a cruel question, he just wants someone to actually listen to him.

“damian, enough.” Bruce sounds genuinely upset as he tells him off, but Damian doesn't shrink back just yet.

Alfred quickly chimes in, trying to soothe the frazzled tempers with his gentle explanations. “of course them being awake is preferred….i think we expected the same person who fell into the coma to come back out…”

It sounds like an excuse to Damian, does that mean they can't rebuild something with (name)?

“well i prefer (name) alive, different or not. at least they still love us enough to bleed for us! isn’t that the standard you’ve all set in this family?”

a pregnant pause falls over the room after that, looks are exchanged between people like whispers. but Damian is focused on Bruce now, he's nearly pleading with him with a look to just…. He doesn't know what he wants here.

Maybe he's just tired of tiptoeing around his own home.

“…only if it’s when B says, apparently.” Jason mumbles under his breath with a roll of his eyes, dick throws him a look and a muttered response. “shut up dude.”

“i mean….you all would’ve gotten blown up if they hadn’t…” duke trails off when everyone looks at him, his lips thin as he looks around the room like the books are much more interesting suddenly.

Tim stands back up and crosses the room quickly to stand in front of the younger boy, he shoves his hands in his pockets as he tries to get a read on his expression.

“…do you really not care if they’re a stranger? a potential unknown who’s gathering information on all of us? i thought you of all people wouldn’t trust like that.”

Damian's eyes narrow, but Dick quickly cuts in before he can. “tim don’t go there, how about we all take a breather? we can talk about this later in the cave.”

He jumps up with forced optimism and gestures towards the grandfather clock with a tight smile on his face, Alfred smiles at Dick and starts shuffling towards the doorway with surprising spryness.

“yes that sounds necessary right about now, how about i fix a tea for everyone?”

“that’d be nice, damian will you help me find the tea set for alfred?” Bruce gestures with a nod of his head towards the doorway and gives him a pointed look.

Damian almost falters, but the words Tim used and the look on his face was like he was spitting at him. He stubbornly remains rooted in place and addresses Tim sharply.

“no. i want to hear what drake means by his comment. what about me of all people?”

He can practically hear the collective groans of frustration from around the room, but he doesn't break eye contact until Tim finally, after a moment speaks. “….you know what i mean.”

“just say it you pussy.”

Damian ignores the scolding Alfred gives him, he's not picking his words carefully here if Tim isn't.

“oooh he’s swearing mad now.” Jason Snickers into his hand while throwing an amused look at Duke who returns it.

“my moneys on dami kicking the shit out of him.” Steph whispers to Babs and Cass loud enough to be heard. “i don’t think bruce or dick will let them fight. but i agree damian has the anger advantage.” Cass murmurs back.

“…i mean the fact that the child assassin is okay with letting someone do whatever they want is shocking to me, maybe it reminds you of home huh?”

You could hear a pin drop after Tim uttered those words, the discomfort on everyone's faces is somehow just as infuriating as the words themselves. It's like people think Damian's gonna blow up at the slightest reminder of his past.

“okay that’s it, time out everyone. tim, apologize to your brother, we don’t hold things like that against people. damian, i know you’ve got a lot in this, but let’s not make things more tense in the home. this isn’t an us vs them situation. we’re stressed, (name’s) stressed, we’re all gonna have to deal with things in a healthier manner from now on. all of us.”

Bruce finally has enough of the situation and wraps an arm around Damian's shoulder and starts pulling him towards the grandfather clock, he throws a warning glance at Tim as he passes. But otherwise leaves it to Alfred to scold the young man so he can calm Damian down. Alone.

in all the commotion and arguments in the room, no one noticed the quiet steps moving away from the living room after all was said and done.

🔹🔹🔹

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A/n: apologies y'all! As I've said in a few posts I'm very busy, and I wound up taking a small break from anything creative since I felt like I was getting to the point of burn out. ((Blame the oblivion remaster for how long it was lol)) I realized it's been a while since I did someone else's POV so we got Damian being an angsty lil boy and some peeks into everyone's mindset rn 😔

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet @omnivirgo @shirp-collector-of-fixations @spidermanluvr444 @br33zy-blizzardz @lunarapple @findingjaxx @4rachn3 @buckturd @tsxukikami @paastaboi @duskeras @ibelyss @1abi @that-creepy-girl-000 @kaylaphantomhive @viilan @karmaxq @dr7girl @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue @esposadomd

#dc x y/n #dc x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batfamily x reader #batman fanfiction #batfam x reader #bruce wayne x gn!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #black widow reader

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chelseeebe · 8 months ago

Text

never leave (nevermind)

18+ mdni. canon compliant sorta kinda. takes place during the events of s4. violent scenes described. r and eddie are exes. reader gets vecna'd. lots of angst.

a/n: i've been writing this on and off for what feels like months and it's definitely noticeable in parts where my writing improves drastically. howeverrr, i've been wanting to write something s4 related for a while bc most of my fics are au's and as fun as they are, the canon material is also v fun (just very difficult to translate into a fic)

8.9k words.

being home for spring break meant one thing; avoiding eddie munson like the plague.

it wasn’t exactly easy what with being practically neighbours but you’d certainly tried to make yourself invisible around the trailer park.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you hadn’t seen him for eleven months, not even a trace of that wild hair until one friday night when his van screamed down the gravel road, music bleating loud enough for you to hear inside. you’d known it was d&d night, he still held the club at the high school and no doubt would still be in charge of it, even after he eventually graduates.

you shouldn’t have even looked. it’s not like you wanted to see him. just curious as to why he felt the need to make so much noise so late at night.

that’s when your eyes saw her, green hawkins high skirt and the fluffy ponytail to match, flouncing out of the van without a care in the world.

chrissy cunningham wasn’t exactly who you’d imagined eddie would go for. she was prim and proper, wasn’t into smoking weed and talking about ozzy osbourne but pom poms and cheer routines instead.

it shouldn’t even hurt.

you’d been broken up for the best part of a year, away to college, living what was supposed to be your best life.

but it does.

pangs through your chest in insurmountable waves, rushing to duck down beneath the window before either of them saw you peeking.

you don’t dare look out again, maybe it was the fear of being caught or more likely for fear of hurting yourself anymore.

eddie’s single, he can do what or whomever he likes.

slinking back into the couch, hoping the crackly tv would drown out any of the lingering thoughts.

a sharp, stabbing sensation rings through your head, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to shut it down.

only since you’d been back here, in hawkins had you felt it. people always whispered about how this town was cursed, perhaps it was you after all, bringing the bad luck to the innocent people of this shit hole.

you drag your feet along the corridor to your bedroom, deciding that being buried beneath your blanket was better than constantly punishing yourself with sly glances out the window.

a multitude of fists pummel at your door, sunlight just barely breaking through the clouds as your eyes open.

nothing in this world could be so important to cause this reaction, especially not at this time of the day.

you slink to the door, grumbling your way through the trailer.

the door swings open, revealing a very out of breath dustin henderson and max mayfield, looking frantic as they pant on your doorstep.

“what the hell? it’s nine am,” you grunt, wondering how the two even knew you were home.

being with eddie had meant you’d come to adopt the gaggle of kids he played d&d with, driving them to and from games, offering a place to stay when their parents thought they were at each others houses while they were actually fighting monsters.

the usual.

the monster stuff was secondary, getting thrown into the deep end last summer after what was supposed to be a shitty mall job to save up for college, had turned into slimy monsters trying to kill you.

eddie had only really seen the aftermath, the piles of what remained of starcourt on the floor and the cuts that littered your limbs. you had told him that night what had actually happened, terrified that the government were listening at your door, ready and waiting to throw you in jail for speaking about what you’d seen.

dustin had made it very clear that you had to be careful not to talk too openly about it, delving into the whole world that rumbled beneath your town.

you weren’t exactly eager to relive that night in the mall, a haze of slobbering monsters and telekinetic little girls. putting it to the back of your mind as some weird fever dream, a symptom of living in hawkins.

“eddie’s in trouble,” dustin frowns, “is your mom here?” forcing himself into the trailer, max at his heels.

“no she’s not-” closing the door behind the rude tweens, “i’m sorry- what’d you say?” hoping you’d misheard him.

he peers down the hall, lousily checking the perimeter, “eddie’s in trouble,” completely serious.

“and what does that have to do with me?” putting your hands on your hips, hoping to display some sort of authority, though it rendered useless against their stubborn attitudes.

“remember the mall?” he deadpans, grabbing the phone from your wall as max pulls out a list of numbers.

“yeah? i’m still not.. why’re you here? you can’t help him at his trailer?”

dustin sighs, long and exaggerated, “he’s not at his trailer. we don’t know where he is,” aggressively punching in numbers, “and why didn’t you tell me you were back? i thought we were friends!” ever the sarcastic little dweeb you’d always had a soft spot for.

“i didn’t tell anyone,” shrugging as you slink into the kitchen, deciding that if they were going to stay, you were at least going to need coffee, “i still don’t understand what’s going on!”

“we’ll explain later,” max yells, fumbling around in her backpack.

you tut, relieved that the pounding in your head had subsided at least.

you’re somehow roped into driving the two to family video, receiving the details on the drive over.

cops had swarmed the trailer park by the time you were ready, piling into wayne’s trailer, talking in hushed voices and yelling at anyone that dared to leave their own homes.

wayne had come back from work this morning to find chrissy cunningham’s body on his floor. limbs broken and her eyes weeping with blood.

any sane human would assume it was eddie’s doing. he didn’t exactly hold the best reputation in this damned town, but you knew murder wasn’t anything he was capable of.

“that monster, from the mall,” dustin continues, leaning over the centre console, “that has something to do with this, i know it,” speaking with such confidence that you had no choice but to believe him.

“how do you know that?” you question wearily, pulling into the parking lot, “i’m not saying i don’t believe you, but how do you know for sure?”

“well,” he buffers, “i don’t, but i’m 99.9 percent certain,” hopping out of the car before you can get another word in.

you contemplate just waiting in the car for them to be done with whatever the fuck it is they’re even doing. not keen on seeing more people you really didn’t want to.

you follow them in either way, ducking your head in some half-assed disguise.

“-dustin!” robin squeals, reaching out to grab his arm, “those are my returns, you dweeb!”

she and steve turn to you, perfectly in-sync, “when the hell did you get back?” speaking in unison. it’d be unsettling if you hadn’t spent the entirety of last summer with them both.

you shake your head, “uh..” regretting your decision not to just wait in the car, “a few days ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” robin huffs, thankfully distracted with the mess dustin was inflicting upon her store to chastise you too badly.

“sorry,” you say meekly, picking up the fallen tapes from the floor as a shitty kind of apology.

she smiles gently at you, before turning back to dustin with a seeding hatred in her eyes, “what are you little nerds even doing here? do you not have anyone else to piss off on a saturday morning?”

“eddie’s in trouble,” dustin repeats for what is probably the thousandth time today, holding the receiver up to his ear.

“oh eddie?” steve quips, “what’d he do this time?”

dustin holds his finger up to shush him, unloading his rehearsed spiel down the phone to whoever.

steve looks over to you for some clarity but you just shrug, not really any wiser on what was actually going than he was.

this goes on for what feels like hours, listening to dustin and max inquire about eddie to each and every person on their call list, just to end up with a dejected frown when absolutely nobody has heard from him.

“rick,” dustin nods, drumming his fingers against the desk, “rick! he said he was going to meet rick today! d’you know where reefer rick lives?” swivelling in his chair to glare at you.

“reefer rick?” robin repeats with such disdain, it’d honestly have been nicer if she’d just laughed in his face.

you shrug, “i don’t know.. maybe?” offering absolutely zero insight whatsoever.

“you know, you were only together for four years,” he snarls, doing nothing to help his cause.

“oh i’m so sorry that i can’t remember every single place we went together,” you hiss back.

dustin eyes the empty computer and you can almost see the lightbulb go off above his head. tapping into the family video system as if he had any right to be here.

“you’re not supposed to be on that!” robin hollers, reaching for the mouse though his hands are quicker.

“stop it!” he screeches, typing rapidly into the computer, “jesus christ, how many rick’s are there?” scrolling the plethora of rick names that had appeared.

he figures it out pretty quickly.

realising that reefer rick probably wasn’t using the local video rental store to watch sixteen candles or risky business.

“you know where that is?” he asks steve, tapping the address on screen.

“uh.. i think so,” steve wavers, squinting his eyes.

“great,” dustin shoots up, grabbing his backpack without a second thought, “you drive,” pointing at steve, “you follow,” turning to you, giving zero alternative or chance to protest before he’s out the door, tugging at the handle of steve’s car.

you do as he says, obviously. fearing that if he were to be left alone with robin for too long, she might just wring his neck.

eddie’s nowhere to be found, the house looks empty and his van isn’t here leaving you back at square one.

“he has to be here,” dustin frets, pointing at the large shed on the other side of the yard, “let’s just have a look.. you wanna find him don’t you?” turning to you specifically.

a few years ago you would’ve said yes with zero hesitation but now you’re not sure if you even care. the thought of seeing eddie again makes you a little nauseous. not even owing to the fact that he was a potential murder suspect.

“why’re you looking at me?” you scowl, “i think we should just leave this to the police.”

“no!” stopping dead in his tracks, “they’ll kill him and you know that,” his eyes sharp as everyone falls into silence.

he was right, as he often is. which makes this all the more irritating.

you nod, gesturing for him to continue to the rundown shack behind the house.

there’s nothing in there, at least no signs of one eddie munson.

it all just seems useless. if eddie had used the neglected brain in his head, he’d be far away

from hawkins by now. he was nifty enough to survive on his own, you were sure about that.

steve jabs at the tarpaulin as you peer out of the door and into the quickly darkening night sky, spinning rapidly as the tarp crinkles and something comes flying out.

eddie.

with his hands now pinning steve back against the wall, chest heaving with sheer, seething anger.

only dropping his hold on him when it registers who it actually is, eyes wide and startled.

a million and one feelings rush through your veins. you hadn’t prepared to actually see him again, to now be stilled by the sight of him locking eyes with you.

the slow realisation dawns on him, quickly forgetting that he was a wanted man, all encompassed by your presence in this suddenly stifling shed.

steve gasps for air, breaking the tension and pulling the attention back to him. robin’s quick to soothe his arm while dustin launches into a quick scolding for eddie.

it’s not long before he moves onto the next phase of his master plan, dragging max to the corner to loudly discuss what they should do.

“when’d you get back?” eddie asks, leaning against the dusty wood panelling, “i haven’t seen you..” his voice cracks but he’s unwavering.

good, you thought. though really it was all useless now.

“couple’a days ago..” picking at the wood splinter on the wall, “when’d you start murdering teenagers?” hoping it wasn’t too harsh of a dig.

“ha ha,” he deadpans, running his hand over his face, “you don’t think i did it, do you?” worry seeping through his tone.

you shake your head no, choosing to meet his eyes, a little reassurance that even if you did think he was a loser, you definitely didn’t think he was a murderer too.

he nods, sighing into his palm, “fuck,” deflated, exhausted by the day he had endured, “they’re gonna kill me,” shrunken into himself, resembling a dejected little puppy.

“they’re not gonna kill you,” but your voice shakes a little, not unnoticed by eddie.

“you don’t sound so sure,” he chuckles, turning his gaze to the rotting floorboards. he looked horrible, to put it nicely. the bags under his eyes were dark and his hair an even wilder mess than usual.

“i’m not really,” refusing to lie to him, even now.

he looks up again, unwavering melancholy in his eye, “how’d you find me?”

you glance over at dustin’s busybody, passionately explaining the next steps to an exhausted looking steve, his hands gesturing for a fight. “he tracked down rick’s address from family video and then wouldn’t let us leave until we found you.”

eddie grin grows, finding the motivation to get himself off of the dirty floor, “yeah.. sounds about right.”

you’re too close for comfort now that you’re eye to eye, uncomfortably close while your relationship was still so fragile.

he breaks away first, striding over to dustin, “what’s the plan? i really need you to save my ass, dude.”

dustin nods, vowing to keep eddie alive, no matter what it takes.

dustin doesn’t hang around.

the minute the suns risen, he’s pounding on the bedroom door, waking the sleeping pile of limbs you’d collapsed in.

“i’m gonna kill him.. i’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” robin grumbles, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, staring daggers at the door.

“eddie’s not answering!” he hollers, busting through the door, “we have to go back to rick’s! now!” pulling at nancy’s arm, presuming that steve had told him no to driving him around this early.

you rouse just enough to really see the panicked look on his face, swinging your legs off of the bed to grab his shoulders, “what happened? we can go i just need five minutes.”

“he’s not answering,” panting between his words, “i told him to check in at six! it’s nearly six thirty.. something’s wrong.”

“okay,” you nod, trying to wake yourself up, “okay.. let me get dressed,” finding your discarded pants and practically jumping into them.

dustin’s in the passenger seat before you can even run a brush through your hair, only just able to brush your teeth before he’s got his fist on the horn.

“jesus christ dude,” you exclaim, shoving the keys into the ignition and speeding off before he has the chance to chastise you again.

you’re grateful that it’s still early and the chances of getting a ticket are slim because you most definitely had broken some kind of speed limit, but truthfully it was mostly to get dustin to shut the hell up.

knowing eddie meant that you knew he was probably fast asleep, ignoring the cracklings of the walkie for the sake of a couple extra minutes of shuteye.

you turn down the long wooded drive, wondering if rick was back yet and just how he’d react to eddie’s ex-girlfriend and some random kid showing up on his doorstep at seven in the morning.

you’re forced to slam on the breaks, almost sending dustin through the windscreen as eddie’s face appears before you, his hands slam the hood, screaming something nonsensical.

“ohmygodohmygod,” he rushes, throwing himself into the backseat of your car, “you need to drive!”

“what the hell happened?” dustin probes as you turn around, only now seeing the barrage of cars parked outside of the house.

“jason..” he gasps, “those fucking meatheads he hangs around with.. they just showed up,” sliding down into the footwell just as jason rounds the corner of the house, yelling something about your car as you hightail the fuck out of there.

“they.. they- they think i’m the devil or some shit,” eddie gasps, his petrified face appearing in the gap between your seats, “they’re fucking crazy man.. fuck!”

your fingers tighten around the steering wheel, hoping to speed away before they got wise enough to follow you.

jason wasn’t much but his lackeys would have zero issue beating the shit out of eddie, or you for that matter.

you instinctively go to the first place you can think of, which in hindsight seems like a mistake now the gravel is crunching beneath your wheels.

forest hills was still crawling with cops trying to determine who or what had killed chrissy, though thankfully at daybreak their presence seemed to have dwindled a little.

“we should be okay here for a while.. stay in the car until i get the door open,” flashing him a harsh glare to make sure he really understands.

the three of you barrel into your trailer, grateful for the silence, unsure of how you’d ever explain this entire situation to your mom.

“shit man,” eddie marvels the walls, mouth hung open, “haven’t seen the inside of this thing for.. a while,” a sadness to his tone.

“yup,” choosing to ignore his glum cadence in favour of keeping the peace, “you can sleep in my bed,” tossing your keys into the bowl.

“you sure?” eddie asks, though he’s already making his way up the hall, all too familiar with your trailer.

“knock yourself out,” collapsing onto the couch to resume your own interrupted slumber. in a time not so long ago, you’d have relished crawling up next to eddie in bed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to tuck you up under his armpit.

you brush off the glum feeling, wrapping your own arms around your body instead.

dustin gets to alerting the wheeler residence, informing them all that eddie’s okay and you were going to hang out here until he came up with some plan.

it’s almost noon before eddie rises again, asking if he can take a shower before dustin unleashes his plan.

that horrid buzzing niggles it’s way back into your brain. a dull pain that quickly becomes sharp, stabbing at the sides of your head.

“are you okay?” dustin questions nervously, ditching his notebook to step closer with caution.

your fingers clutch your temple, unable to form a coherent sentence as the pain throbs through your frontal lobe. features screwed up in searing pain.

“eddie!” he screeches, his fists pummelling against the bathroom door.

eddie emerges, towel slung around his waist, barely able to turn the water on yet, “what? what the hell is going on?” quickly shutting up when he sees your sorry state. “are you okay? what happened?” rushing over without a second thought.

dustin stands in horror just behind, watching as eddie’s thumb swipes the underside of your nose, coming back an unexpected shade of maroon.

“she just dropped! i-i don’t.. i’ve never seen this before!”

“you’re bleeding,” eddie fuses, “dustin.. tissue now,” tilting your chin upwards.

the pain subsides slightly, allowing your eyes to reopen and meet his, “there’s.. tylenol in the drawer,” letting him keep your chin between his fingers.

dustin speeds around the room, collecting supplies as your laboured breaths become easier, the ache dissipating as quickly as it came on.

eddie dabs at your nose until it’s clean, shaking out two of the pills onto his palm for you to take. “what the hell was that?” nagging yet concerned all rolled into one.

“i dunno, i’ve been getting these.. headaches, since i’ve been back,” looking between dustin’s horrified face and eddie’s distressed one. “it’s probably nothing.”

“that didn’t look like nothing,” dustin adds, still wary of your state. with all of the supernatural happenings at the moment, he had right to be.

“it’s fine,” shrugging them both off before the questions got too much. “what’s the plan dustin?”

he and eddie share another glance, pretending that you weren’t right there in front of them. “uh..” erring the line of caution before jumping right into it, “okay so we need to go down.. down there.”

it’s stupid, reckless even.

but what other choice do you have when the world is caving in and your ex-boyfriend is on the run from the police?

eddie climbs through the window of the rv, pulling your eyes away with a quickness as his shirt rises up to reveal his lower back.

the door swings open some moments later, gesturing for you all to climb inside as he gets to hot-wiring the gargantuan vehicle.

you pile into the back, ducking below the windows while his fingers fiddle with the live wires.

“do you even know what you’re doing?” nancy asks, her eyebrow raised in quiet concern.

“nancy please,” eddie huffs, “while your dad was teaching you how to ride a bike, my dad was teaching me how to hot-wire a car.. i know what i’m doing.”

she hums, settling into the passenger seat without another word.

it shouldn’t be attractive. you should think it’s utterly reprehensible to steal and engage with such criminal behaviour.

but you can’t.

not with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth like that, his hands whirring away as robin looks on with a screwed up face.

the engine roars loud, alerting the entire trailer park to your existence. eddie hightails it into the back, choosing the empty spot next to you as he yells for steve to drive.

this all so ridiculous, flying about the back of the rv as steve speeds out of town. finding somewhere solitary for you all to prepare.

everyone seems to be in cahoots about something, scarpering from the rv the second you walk inside. leaving you and eddie to navigate through the uncomfortable tension alone.

you take a seat anyway, picking up the discarded knife on the table, running your finger along the dull blade with a sigh.

you’d never imagined that the two of you could ever be so awkward together, having been close for the entirety of your lives, it felt awful to not even want to look at him now.

“i’m sorry.. about chrissy,” you swallow, still sharpening the knife, hoping he won’t say something to make you drive it into his throat.

the rest of the group ‘prepare’ loudly outside. dustin screeching at the top of his lungs for steve to put him down while robin tuts in annoyance.

eddie looks up, a little glum, “yeah.. she was a good girl, she didn’t deserve that,” dropping his own knife on the table in front of you with a clatter.

“i didn’t realise you two were.. together or whatever,” the look on his face immediately forces you to regret your words, hoping the ground would just swallow you whole.

he scoffs, “together?” knocking his knee into yours softly, “you thought we were together?”

oh my god. it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. cheeks burning as your eyes meet his, “oh! i thought.. someone said.. i don’t- i don’t know,” clinging onto the knife with sweaty palms, deciding whether to slice your own mouth off so nothing else could fall out of it.

“she was buying weed,” he laughs quietly, “pretty girl but.. not really my type, you know?”

you nod, looking back at the table in hopes that he’d just drop it now. so much for being the nonchalant, cool ex. all you’d done is solidify your psycho status.

“i haven’t really..” he begins again, never knowing when to leave well enough alone, “i haven’t moved on, i guess,” shrugging as his own gaze slips.

if you were going to live through the end of the world, you hoped it’d come soon. the tension in this cramped rv was enough to make whatever was happening with the underworld seem like a dream.

“oh!” is all you can conjure up. unsure of what response he was expecting from you. the breakup had been amicable.. sort of. to you, it made sense to breakup. you were away to college and he was repeating senior year again. you had almost died in the town you grew up in, he hadn’t.

it was a multitude of happenings that forced you apart. grief and it’s intertwining webs of despair had proved too much for your relationship. too much for you to handle on your own.

eddie hadn’t agreed.

he couldn’t understand it, why you needed out of hawkins so bad. but he wasn’t there, hadn’t seen the things you had.

the guilt had wrecked you for the first few months, afraid that you’d abandoned him in that very town for a new life after promising for so long that you wouldn’t.

“sorry, i shouldn’t have said that- i didn’t mean anything by it,” he fumbles, pulling on his bottom lip, “well i did! just.. not the time or place, you get me?” digging himself further into his hole.

your eyes meet his again, gnawing at the skin on your bottom lip, “it’s okay.. you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“i think what i meant to say was that i missed you.. i’m glad you’re back,” eddie coughs, un-jumbling his words at last.

it’s simple enough and really shouldn’t make your heart swell the way it does. you weren’t together. he wasn’t yours. that was that.

but maybe there’s something about experiencing the end of the world with someone that makes you a little reminiscent.

“i missed you too,” you smile, hoping that the overwhelming feeling of adrenaline is just from the interdimensional monster that lay beneath you and absolutely nothing to do with his doe eyes and plump lips.

his eyes flicker, trailing from your eyes to your lips. the air seems to shift around you, leaving the room at an expedient rate.

“you missed me?” eddie growls, looking back into your eyes, “then why’d you leave me here?” a deep set frown forming on his lips that wasn’t there a minute earlier.

“what?” you question, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanour.

“you left me. you left me here to die after you told me you wouldn’t,” he snarls, leaning closer.

his eyes are glossy now, glazed over with what looks like tears.

“i didn’t.. no,” backing away from him, “you were supposed to come with me.. you.. you..” shaking your head.

eddie’s eyes change completely now, pupils turning a slick grey. a dark cloud fills the room, overflowing out of the tiny window, covering the furniture and your body with the thick smog.

“it’s your fault,” the voice rumbles, no longer bearing any semblance to eddie’s, the walls decay in front of your eyes, wallpaper rotting as they crack and crumble.

“it’s your fault,” it repeats, louder this time, “he’s going to die,” it cackles, filling the room with the booming voice.

“no,” you scream into the void, thrashing around to find the source, “take me! take me instead!” yelling as loud as your throat would allow, but it’s futile.

there’s no one here.

eddie had gone. crumbled into a pile of ash on the floor, left on your own in some barren wasteland, the blood-curdling screams of menacing creatures travel through your body.

“you can’t save yourself,” the voice booms, pulling your eyes to the horrific humanoid figure stood amongst the ruins.

“what do you want?” you scream, stepping backwards over the rubble.

the man.. thing just smiles, “i’ve been watching you for some time, you shouldn’t have come back here,” walking towards your cowering frame.

“w-why? who are you?” fingers trembling as you attempt to grab onto something, anything to bring you back to earth.

everything you grasp crumbles into ashes, disappearing before your eyes as you struggle to breathe. wheezing through the dark clouds, not an inch of relief.

“we’ve met before,” completely ominous, “you don’t remember me?” tilting his head to the side.

it feels like you’ve seen it before, somewhere in a far away dreamland.

that’s when it clicks.

the bad dreams you’d been having, there had always been something there, a presence you couldn’t ever see clearly.

but now it makes sense.

“h-how did you do that? how did you get into my dreams?” the rubble beneath your feet disappeared with every step.

his head shakes and the landscape rumbles, a clattering of stones fall to the ground, jolting your body backwards.

“you let me in,” he rumbles, stepping closer, “you’re the reason any of this is happening.. it’s time for you to pay.”

his spindly fingers reach out, forcing you further and further back until your foot catches against a stone, sending you flying backwards into a sudden abyss.

you awaken with a harsh gasp, eyes opening to find eddie towering above, his brows threaded together in fear as the others screech around you.

“she’s awake! are you okay?” eddie rushes, holding your face between his palms, “oh my god,” as white as a sheet, shock rippling through his body.

you nod, blinking in the sudden bright light, exhausted from doing nothing at all. nothing felt real except eddie’s fingers brushing over your worn skin.

too tired for tears, too afraid to speak. your eyes shut on their own, trying to ground yourself back in this reality.

you relax into his hold, your breathing falling into line with his as their voices turn into humming background noise, focusing on the path of eddie’s fingertips instead.

eddie hadn’t dared to leave your side, following you around like a lost puppy, watchful eyes widening every time you moved or breathed too loud.

it would’ve felt suffocating if you weren’t scared to death. instead, it was a welcome comfort. a sense of familiarity in the most awful time.

you felt immense guilt, knowing that the end of the world had to happen for you to speak to him again. the man you’d gotten married to a thousand times in your head, the man you’d had a plethora of baby names with. it was all so insane.

dustin hadn’t exactly instilled much confidence in you. with news of fred benson and patrick mckinney’s deaths, he had figured out the pattern of attack.

they’d all died the same way, eyes burst and their limbs snapped one by one.

eddie had recalled how chrissy went into a similar trance, her eyes glossed over, completely unresponsive. though the moment he’d said it, his heart sank, realising that chrissy wasn’t the only one he’d witnessed like that.

logically, that meant that you were next.

dustin had uncovered what was essentially a countdown to your death. nobody wanted to say it, or even acknowledge it, but you weren’t stupid.

that meant that whatever plan he had, he had to perfect tonight, ready to attack tomorrow.

before it’s too late.

he’d said the quiet part out loud. a shared grimace encompassing the room, pitiful glances in your direction.

despite the fact that your demise was quickly approaching, you had felt a strange sense of peace. perhaps actually knowing your fate was better than not knowing.

there would be an end to all of this.

steve had offered his house for you all, his parents away on some trip for the next week meaning eddie could hide out in peace. a much better arrangement than the wheeler’s house again, ted had started to despise the groups of teenagers in his basement.

sleeping bags and blankets strewn across his gigantic living room, sleeping bodies filling every spare inch of carpet. none of you wanted to be apart for more than five minutes. sleeping on top one another was the ultimate comfort.

eddie had volunteered for first watch, keeping his eye steady on you from the corner of the room.

it’s a little difficult to fall asleep knowing that he was watching you like a hawk, surveying every tiny change and movement.

dustin was supposed to take over at some point in the early hours, but judging by the sounds of his rumbling snore, that wouldn’t be happening.

you sit up, shuffling over to eddie’s perch, avoiding your sleeping friends on the ground.

his eyes dart to the floor, as if he hadn’t been staring intensely at you for the last hour.

“d’you have a cigarette?” you whisper, knocking your knee into his.

he nods, raising his brow, “you don’t smoke?” baffled by your question.

you shrug, smiling into the darkness, “how would you know?” hoping it didn’t come across as snappy as it seemed.

he doesn’t reply, just shuffles around in his pocket, producing the scuffed up box with his lighter.

you nod towards the door, getting up from the floor with a small groan. limbs still aching and weary from your run in with death earlier.

he follows behind, glancing at the room of sleeping teens before slipping out onto the porch with you.

steve’s house was secluded, the massive back yard and the trees that surrounded it made sure that no one would find him here.

you perch on one of the lounge chairs, gesturing for eddie to join you, watching the steam from the pool dissipate into the chilly march night air. despite being in the same tiny town, his house was worlds apart from the trailer park you two grew up on.

he places a cigarette in your palm before sliding one between his own lips, passing you the lighter first.

it’s a silent exchange, unsure if you could talk about anything without crying, though it’s meaningful. eddie had been selfish plenty of times during your relationship but at his core, he’d put you before himself each and every time.

you light the cigarette, gazing off into the distance. hoping to god that he wouldn’t bring what had happened earlier up.

“when’d you start smoking?” he asks, keeping a respectable distance between you though he wishes that wasn’t something he had to worry about.

“when i found out that i was dying tomorrow,” exhaling slow, trying not to let your voice wobble.

he sighs, “you’re not gonna die,” with less conviction than you’d have liked, “you can’t die,” shaking his head at such a ridiculous thought, “you won’t.. you won’t,” mostly for his own sake.

your eyes squeeze shut, heart aching, squeezing your chest tight. last week you’d been terrified about your literature final and now none of it even mattered.

“what if i do?” you ask earnestly, finally meeting his eyes, “everyone else has? we don’t know if dustin’s right.. if we can beat him,” shrugging helplessly.

chrissy had died, patrick had died, fred had died. that meant you were next.

his jaw clenches, wishing you’d stop, “you’re not,” throwing his cigarette butt to the side, “i won’t let you, okay?”

you nod, albeit not believing a word he said. it was difficult to be so optimistic when the only evidence you had, said otherwise.

“this vecna..” eddie begins again, “he doesn’t know what’s about to hit him,” sounding slightly more confident than before, “we’re gonna kill him and you’re.. you’re gonna live and graduate and do all that great shit you still have to do.”

you don’t mistake the pain in his voice, the knowing that he should be there for all of that and that it had been his own fault for now being a footnote in the story of your life.

“i really do miss you,” you clarify, “i’m not sure how much of our conversation earlier was a vision or not..”

eddie chuckles, breath shaky and unstable, “no.. you said that before, you know- before you got possessed,” bumping his shoulder into yours, thankfully injecting his fucked up humour into the otherwise dark conversation.

“was it scary?”

he scoffs, almost offended that you’d even ask, “i shit my pants,” smiling with the side of his mouth, not fully committed, “reminded me of that stupid movie you made me watch.”

he had never liked horror movies, this tough guy exterior that exclusively listened to metal was all a guise. he’d watched the film through his fingers, clinging onto your arm.

“you were very brave though,” letting your cigarette fall to the floor, sure to be lectured by steve in the morning.

he shies away, looking down for a brief second, “i’m not gonna let what happened to chrissy happen to you too..” meeting your gaze once more, “i promise.”

“i don’t think you can promise that,” sharing a meaningful glance.

“i can and i will.”

you nod hesitantly. his words, as much as you’d like to believe them, meant nothing when the supernatural was at play.

his eyes flicker down to your lips, just like they used to so many months ago. but you don’t pull back, only leaning in further.

if you lived past tomorrow, you’d no doubt regret this but as that wasn’t looking at all likely, what was a kiss between traumatised exes?

eddie makes the first real move, his palm coming to cradle your cheek. you hope to god this isn’t another vision, that he won’t be cruelly torn away from you this time.

“is this real?” you can’t stop yourself from asking, sighing as you do.

“this is real,” he assures, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “d’you want to stop?”

“no,” closing the already dwindling space between you, placing your hand on his in such earnest intimacy, a sensation you’d missed so deeply for an entire year.

your lips touch, your eyes falling shut as his breaths start to steady, humming into your mouth in satisfaction.

it didn’t feel so bad now, nothing could be so utterly terrifying while you’re touching him like this.

eddie breaks away first, only a few inches of distance, just to gaze into your starry eyes, “i never thought i’d be able to do that again,” with utmost sincerity.

“you weren’t supposed to,” shaking your head. if things had gone according to your plan, you’d have never seen him again.

but it doesn’t work that way.

fate had other plans for you.

his lips twitch into a small smile, thumb drawing over your tired cheeks, “can i do it again?”

“please.”

connecting your lips once more, the cold tip of his nose bumping softly against yours. it was impossible not to notice how well you fit together, moving in synchronicity and with such tenderly care.

inside, dustin wakes up in a cold sweat. looking over at the empty spot on the floor where you should be, but now we’re not.

“shitshitshit,” he panics, whispering loudly to himself as he crashes around the house, stepping over the sleeping bodies.

dustin’s panicked face shoots up from the window, gawping at the barely visible sight, straining to make out what the fuck he was even seeing.

it only dawns on him when your lips leave eddie’s, foreheads resting together that it would be in his best interest to not interject and end up with his ass beat.

you come back in some twenty minutes later, after a plethora of shared kisses and soothing words. deciding to settle in the same empty spot on the floor, his hand only comfortable enough to grace your waist, under the blanket.

now wasn’t the time for questions or prying eyes judging your decision. you weren’t even too sure yourself.

it’s the only time you’ve felt comfortable enough to sleep tonight, watching his chest rise and fall, knowing that he was here, alive and that for right now, you were too.

the carnage pulls you from your sleep, people yelling over pancakes and glass clattering as max’s shrill voice scolds lucas for being too loud.

you look around at the mess of blankets and empty sleeping bags, the door to the living room was closed though it made no difference.

you’d have preferred to stay in the empty room, unwilling to address the situation with eddie last night but your stomach rumbles, pulling you out of the room and into the bright, bustling hallway.

robin swings out of the kitchen at the sound of your presence. she’d clearly tried to help with the breakfast efforts, though unsuccessfully, emerging with flour down her shirt, jeans and somehow in her hair. she smiles gently at your weary eyes, “we didn’t wanna wake you.. you were knocked out.”

“thanks rob,” even though their incessant arguing and yelling did eventually rouse you from your sleep.

in the kitchen, dustin sits with his feet swinging off the tall stool, a too-wide, toothy grin growing on his face the second he spots you, “well good morning! how’d you sleep?” a sarcastic little quip that you know holds something deeper.

“great thanks, you?” narrowing your eyes as you fill a mug with coffee.

he waits for steve to exit the room, turning back to you with the biggest shit-eating grin imaginable, “yeah, really good,” he twists his body to peer out of the door, ensuring no one could hear, “so you and eddie huh?”

“me and eddie what?” refusing to entertain his cryptic questions.

“i saw you two last night, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” wiggling his stupid brows as he shovels yet another pancake into his uncontrollable, jabbering mouth.

“and i saw you wet the bed last year, do you want to go there?” flinging his taunting right back at him.

dustin’s mouth falls open, “you can be a real bitch, you know that?” taking his heaped plate back into the living room.

steve strolls back in, staring down dustin’s scowl before his eyes trail to you, “what’s wrong with him?”

you smile, tight-lipped and fully loaded as you pour a cup of coffee, “oh nothing,” looking over the food with slight disgust. the hunger hadn’t really hit you yet, too occupied with trying not to die to care about pancakes.

eddie interrupts your noisy brain, cackling as he comes into the kitchen, “maybe you should stop being such a smart-ass then,” immediately quietening down when he spots you.

you don’t speak, instead communicating with a shared look before you focus on the cup of coffee in your hand.

steve looks slowly between the two of you, “you good?”

“yeah.”

“yup.”

you both simultaneously reply, refusing to acknowledge the tension in the empty kitchen.

“o-kay,” steve whistles, deciding that sitting with dustin and his terrible attitude would be far better than whatever this was.

it’s not supposed to be awkward.

it was just a kiss. or multiple.

a few kisses between exes during the end of the world. that’s all.

“d’you sleep okay?” he dares to ask, feeling comfortable enough to make eye contact now that steve had left.

“yeah.. thank you, for looking after me,” smiling gently at the bleary eyed boy.

“i told you i would,” he reaffirms, “you’re not doing this on your own.”

“i know,” you nod, swallowing the growing lump, “but i’m scared eds.. i don’t want you to die because of me.”

eddie tuts, rounding the counter to place his hand on your arm, “that’s not-,”

dustin hollers, falling through the kitchen door, giving away the groups prying position, “ow shithead!” shoving lucas backwards as they materialise one by one.

dustin, lucas, max, erica.

in that order.

“are you fucking serious?” you screech, throwing your arms into the air.

this was low even for dustin.

“sorry! sorry! go back to confessing your love or whatever the hell was happening!” scurrying off to finish his pancakes and no doubt inform robin and steve what they’d witnessed.

“i can’t believe him,” you frown, turning to eddie who’s stifling his laugh. “it’s not funny,” but your lips twitch anyway.

“it’s kinda funny,” his hand still lingering on your arm, his smile reaching his eyes, “you don’t care if they know.. do you?”

you shrug, perhaps you did care a little bit. you were the one who’d broken up with him, deserted him for college. maybe you didn’t deserve a second chance.

“it’s okay..” he nods, as understanding as always, “this is weird, i get it," as understanding as he was, he wasn't able to conceal the dejected puppy gleam in his eye.

"it's not that," pathetically reaching for his hand, "i'm just.. i'm supposed to die today, i don't want to.. lead you on, or get your hopes up or whatever," putting your finger up to stop eddie from interrupting, "i don't need you to tell me that i'm not. just let me spiral about this," smiling as you speak, truly a means to soothe yourself, not just eddie.

"o..okay," his whole speech shut down, leaving him with nothing. his eyes flit over to the mountains of food steve had whipped up, "you should eat.. you've got a busy day of not dying to get through," smirking right through your snide glare.

something feels off, a nervous twisting in your stomach that makes you want to call the entire thing off.

you could go down there and fight this with them. screw whatever prophetic visions you’d had.

eddie hadn’t even wanted to go, desperate to stay in the attic with you, watching over in fear of losing you again.

“what if.. what if something happens and they don’t know how to fix it? they’re kids.” he’d pleaded, sat on the porch outside of the large house in your final moments of peace.

“dustin can’t do this on his own,” you cooed, only slightly wishing that he could execute this plan on his own. “you have to go. i’ll be okay..okay?” not entirely certain about the truthfulness of your words.

he takes a sharp intake of breath, fingers forming a weak fist, “you better be,” the moon reflecting off of his caramel iris’, capturing the entire universe in two tiny orbs, “i don’t want to lose you again.”

your head dips, quickly losing the ability to look him in the eye, overwhelmed with guilt and the reminder that you had been the one to end things.

“it’s okay,” grabbing your hand to place on his bouncing knee, “i’m not.. mad about it, or upset and you shouldn’t be either,” squeezing your fingers in a bid to draw your eyes back to him.

“i don’t-,” huffing a frustrated sigh, unable to form a coherent thought when the impending battle loomed over your heads. “everything is so fucked and i don’t know if we’re gonna make it this time.”

eddie’s fingers lace between yours, holding your hand tighter, “we’re gonna be fine.. okay? everyone is gonna be fine,” inching closer in the thick of the night, “i’m gonna be right back here, as soon as that bastard is dead.. i promise.”

this time, you punctuate his sentence for him, springing forward to latch your lips to his, using your free hand to cradle his stubbly cheek.

you long to kiss him forever, never escaping this embrace, knowing that there’s a chance it won’t happen again. his lips soft, desperate to stay attached to you, too.

“oh! shit! uhm-,” robin stutters, clattering out of the door.

you break apart, containing the low groan of disappointment, “sorry rob.. ‘s everything okay?” eddie’s as bashful as ever, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet, even in the darkness.

“yeah! uh.. nancy told me to tell you that we’ve gotta go now or it’ll be too late,” swinging from the door as she speaks.

he glances at you again, longing for just one more minute of this peace. one more second of your touch.

but it doesn’t come.

they leave in a hurry, cycling maniacally away to the trailer park, leaving you, lucas, max and erica to conduct the rest of the plan. only fragments of hope left as you watch them disappear over the hill, praying for someone, anyone to just keep him safe.

everything is eerily calm, far too silent for the situation at hand.

you sit cross-legged in the attic, looking between lucas and max who had taken it upon themselves to converse through a notepad.

they reminded you of you and eddie once upon a time, giggling teenagers trying to navigate love together.

it’s sweet, full of the same adolescent innocence you were desperately trying to regain.

eventually they break apart, lucas traipsing over the creaky floorboards to check on you, equally confused by the serenity.

he turns to walk away, almost frozen as his brows furrow and his pupils dilate, “you killed them.”

your mouth falls open, immediately hushing him so as to not screw up nancy and dustin’s carefully thought out plan.

“you killed them all,” he parrots, a sinister air surrounding him. “eddie trusted you and you killed him.. you’re a murderer,” the venom flying off of his tongue, severing your heart in two.

the plan had worked. you were back in wherever it was you were taken before, confirmed by the sudden darkness, the wallpaper splintering and putrid stench that had filled your nose.

lucas isn’t lucas at all.

a mimic to the higher power cursing your town, only a small part of his master plan to destroy hawkins.

your surroundings melt away, lucas nor max no longer appearing before you. instead, you’re faced with a flash of red, and a maniacal cackle.

henry, as you’d since learnt he was called, begins his tirade, just as you’d planned.

“why didn’t you stop them?” he booms, appearing in the corner, “you let them go after everything i showed you.”

he didn’t scare you, not anymore. when the time was right, lucas would slide max’s walkman over your ears and pull you right out of this hellscape.

“they’re going to kill you,” standing stoic, resistant under his thumb. “you can’t hurt anybody else.. not anymore,” gritting your teeth, such determination to have him hear you.

his burnt frame disappears right before your eyes, a loud, blaring laugh appears from behind.

once again turning to darkness, only this time it’s accompanied by a chorus of screeching. feral creatures and familiar voices circle around your head.

his torment is ruthless, voices, namely eddie’s rattle around your brain, wailing and screaming, loud enough to make your ears ring and your head ache.

your eyes open to your trailer, watching yourself argue and cry at eddie.

the day you broke up.

“you’re just gonna leave me?” he despairs, just as feeble as the first time he’d said it.

“i can’t stay here eddie! you don’t get it! i nearly died.. i can’t do that again,” and yet, here you are.

a shrill, shrieking sound fills the room before the scene crumbles before your eyes leaving you to the decaying scene you bore witness to before. remnants of the creel house float through the scarlet sky, threatening to crash into each other.

“maybe i can’t hurt you, but you can hurt yourself,” vecna’s voice squawks, flashing forward to a scene you’ve never seen before.

eddie, with his back against a door, you can only assume he’s trying to keep something out. a grotesque mix of blood, sweat and tears seep down his cheeks, the door beginning to thump from the pressure of whatever was on the other side.

“this all could’ve been so easy,” rapidly wiping the imagine from your view, only to appear mere inches away, decrepit hand rising above your face. “don’t you wish you had just listened? don’t you wish that you had just come with me?” now mocking with his tone, condescending even though he’d gotten you exactly where you’d wanted.

“no.. no no no,” arms suddenly restricted by a slimy tendril, forcing your face to meet his, “you’re not real.. you’re not-“ a sudden, awful constriction wraps around your lungs, squeezing the air from your body.

“i’m not.. real?” he mocks, the corners of his mouth creep upwards, “i didn’t want this to happen this way but you’ve left me no choice.”

you gasp loudly for breath, struggling within his grasp for a means out of it. where was lucas? or max? what happened to the plan?

over the last few days, you’d become quite comfortable with the idea of dying. it became fact, an inevitable consequence of getting yourself tangled up in this entire thing.

but now, as it looms over your head, you want out.

you want to be with eddie. you want a dozen kids and a quaint house on the corner of maple. maybe a dog or a cat that he’d picked up on the side of the road. slow dancing in the kitchen after a day of warm sun.

you want to live.

his fist closes, leaving your lips blue and begging for oxygen. “this is what had to happen.. your time-“ his rambling cut off by a ground shattering boom, the tendril dropping your body at once.

he stumbles backwards, grabbing onto his chest. your vision too blurry to coherently make out what was happening, a mixture of colours that swirls away quickly.

your aching bones thump to the floor, gasping for air as the familiarity of the creel’s attic fills your peripheral.

max and lucas swarm your body, muttering over one another, their small hands shaking in fear as your head is placed on max’s lap.

“what the fuck? what the fuck do we do? lucas!” she hollers at lucas, as if either of them had any idea.

they shouldn’t have to be concerned with any of this, nor tasked with the pressure of keeping you alive. your breathing steadies though your chest still heaves, leaving the comfort of her hold to scan the room. making sure that this was real, that you were home.

four pairs of feet appear before you and not one of them the dusty pair of reebok’s you were waiting to see.

collapsing once again, in a crumpled heap on the dusty floorboards, your voice cracks, broken as you speak. still reeling from the onslaught of abuse you’d endured.

“where’s eddie?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader

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moonmunson · 3 months ago

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just breathe

anon asked: can you write a wally fic where the reader has like an anxiety attack or starts freaking out bc her parents come to get her things from the school and he calms her down?

a/n: ty for the request! this might be a little different than what you asked for, but i have a similar scene in the other wally fic in my masterlist!

cw: descriptions of grief, angst, hurt/comfort, detailed panic attack

wc: 1.3k

You weren't expecting to see your parents today.

Knowing they'd have to come to the school to claim your belongings was one thing, but actually seeing it happen? Nothing could've prepared you for it, not really. Wally had attempted to, recounting his reaction the first time he'd seen his parents after his own death.

He'd said the worst part is them not being able to hear you. Not being able to manipulate the objects around you - to give them a sign that you're with them, that all things considered you feel okay. To be stuck here, unable to quell their fear, or to lessen their grief.

You thought you wouldn't have to worry about it for a little while longer. The impromptu memorial surrounding your locker - flowers littering the floor along with notes of condolences pasted to the metal - had served as a reminder of what happened, but you'd been avoiding it.

The universe has a sick sense of humor, waiting for the day you're walking down the hallway with Wally near your locker, to send you careening. You almost don't recognize them, your parents. Your mother stands stock-still holding a cardboard box, dressed in casual clothing rather than her usual business attire. Your father, gingerly placing textbooks and notebooks into the box, looks like he hasn't slept in weeks.

They communicate as they always have, with sidelong glances and the raises of their brows. They've never needed words, and something twinges in your gut. You're almost thankful for it - their silence - because you don't know if you could handle hearing them speak. It's your mom's laugh, upon seeing the carton of cigarettes you'd hidden in the back of your locker, that breaks you.

The urge to run, to hide, to get away from here is overwhelming. But Wally is holding your hand, grounding you to the spot you're standing in. He's silent - his usual demeanor quieted for a moment. You can feel his gaze on your face, monitoring you to try and figure out what you might need from him.

You take a step forward, dragging Wally with you toward your parents. You rethink it for a moment when you open your mouth to speak, turning to Wally for reassurance. He nods, encouraging you to say something.

"Hey, guys," your parents make no moves, no acknowledgement of your presence. It stings worse than you thought it would, "I love you, and I, I-" your throat feels too tight. It's too warm in the hallway, Wally's hand is clammy in yours, and you can't breathe.

You backtrack, dropping Wally's hand in the process. You can't do this. You can't talk to them, you can't pretend like they can hear you. It's fucking pointless. You're dead. Oh fuck, you're actually dead and you will be forever, and there's no escape, no peace.

The hyperventilation isn't satisfying in the way it was when you were alive. There's no heartbeat to beat out of your chest, no blood rushing into your ears to muffle the noises around you.

When you'd first been getting used to being dead, the lack of a heartbeat was so disconcerting. Like static noise that never leaves, you'd gotten so used to your heartbeat that not having one felt like something important had been taken from you. Now, you'd give anything to feel it again.

“I can’t - I can’t,” you stutter over your own words, fighting to get them out of your mouth, “I can’t do this, I-” your eyes are flitting around wildly, lids blinking rapidly and unable to stay still for longer than a second. The tears come soon after, big and hot and streaming down your face.

Wally’s gaze is burning a hole into the side of your face, the way he’s staring at you. You don’t look at him, you can’t, because you know all you’ll see is pity. Cloying, suffocating pity. When he attempts to put a hand on your shoulder, you shrug it off harder than you mean to, biting out a “Don’t.” in his general direction.

You take off, speed walking down the hallway. The passing glance you direct towards your parents only makes you cry harder - the thoughts bouncing around in your brain relentless and unceasing. You just need a minute, just a single fucking second on your own to freak out. To ugly cry without having to worry about anyone seeing you, especially Wally. You’ll feel bad about the way you reacted to his kindness later, when your breathing has evened out and the phantom limb that used to be your heartbeat returns to normal.

-- -- -- -- --

Wally, for the most part, does try to leave you alone. You’re hiding out on the floor of the girl’s bathroom in the auditorium, and he’s never been the best at controlling the weight of his footsteps. You can hear him pacing out there, muttering to himself, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something. Enough time has passed for you to find it endearing more than anything else, and what’s more is his noise of surprise when you call out to him.

“Are you gonna come in or are you gonna spend the rest of the day pacing out there?”

“Are you sure?” You can’t tell if his question is in regards to you wanting his company or his presence in the girl’s bathroom, but either way the answer is yes. The door creaks open slowly, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind. When you don’t say anything else, Wally comes in and sits down next to you on the cold tile flooring.

His body is warm next to yours, shoulders brushing and criss-crossed knees knocking into each other. He breaks the silence first, a soft, “I am so sorry.” leaving his lips. It makes you want to cry again, but the tears won’t come again for a while, numbness winning out over the overwhelming grief you’d felt half an hour before.

"I'm sorry if I was mean to you. I know you were trying to be there for me, I just -" Your gaze is directed at your lap, hands running over your legs in an attempt to soothe yourself. Wally grabs one of them, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles there.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he says, shaking his head when you go to respond, "I mean it, I promise. You tried, y/n. That's what matters."

"I could've tried harder. I know it wouldn't have done anything, they wouldn't have been able to hear me, but I just couldn't do it. Looking at them made me feel sick. And I ran away from you, and I'm sorry."

Wally gathers you into his arms, wrapping himself around your body and holding you to his chest, rocking ever so slightly back and forth. He couldn't ever be suffocating, and you feel horribly for thinking of him that way.

"I'll always come looking for you, you know that," he coos, before kissing the top of your head, "I'm always gonna be here. Like, literally. We can't leave school grounds, so-"

"Too soon, Wally," you giggle, spirits lifted by the shitty joke he made, "Thank you, though. I'll always be there for you too."

You don't know how long you stay there on the bathroom floor with him, in his arms and exhausted from your emotional outburst. It doesn't really matter anyways. You've got all the time in the world.

a/n: i haven't actively written in such a long time, i feel so rusty. hopefully this isn't too hard to read, i tried my best 😭

if you liked this story and want to read more, send me a request! even if you just wanna chat about wally pls pls pls send me asks, i need more wally lover friends. i also have one other wally story currently in my masterlist which is linked in my bio. please like and reblog or drop a fun comment

#wally clark #wally clark x reader #wally clark x you #wally clark fanfiction #school spirits #wally clark imagine

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citrustan · 1 year ago

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slipping through my fingers [4] (myg)

title: and the hits keep coming 2.0

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: just when you thought yoongi couldn't surprise you anymore, it happens again. warnings: [other parts should be read before this one] a lot more feelings of insecurity and sad vibes, yoongi stepping over oc's boundaries, oc being disrespected yet again (nothing new nothing changed same old shit same old fucking shit)

You were tempted to ignore him, but with Nao involved, you couldn’t avoid dealing with him.

“You should go eat. I can just talk to him for you…?” Taehyung suggests as he watches you contemplate your next move.

That would be great help to you. While you couldn’t afford to avoid him forever, maybe a few days wouldn’t hurt. So, with an overwhelming and shaky sigh, you passed the phone to him.

He hurriedly motions for you to leave the room. And you reluctantly do so.

Taehyung scrunches his nose and shuts the door in your face.

Fighting the urge to hold a glass against the door, you forced yourself to wait in the kitchen till he was done.

On the other side of the door, Taehyung angrily exhales, taking his own sweet time to answer your phone. Then the call drops.

Not even a second later, the loud ringtone fills the room once again. It reeks of desperation.

“Hello?”

No response.

He tries again, “Hello?”

“…Taehyung?”

“Yeah, it’s me.��

After another pause, the voice scoffs, “Figures.”

A bit taken aback, Taehyung bit his tongue, “What do you want?”

Taehyung hears nothing back. “Yoongi? Why’d you call?”

“I called _____, not you.”

“Well, she can’t talk now.”

Now it was Yoongi’s turn to bite back. “This has nothing to do with you, Tae. I just need to talk to her.”

“You can’t. You have me instead. What more do you have to say?”

There’s yet another long pause.

“How is she?”

Taehyung almost laughs in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. How do you think, Yoongi? Is the future Mrs. Min okay with you asking about your ex?”

“Careful, Taehyung-”

“Does everyone else know already?”

“Of course not, I went straight to _____’s. And nobody can know about it either. We’re not ready. I just…”

Taehyung grew more confused the longer Yoongi took to speak.

“I need to talk to her, Taehyung. I really… I messed up.”

“Did something more happen?”

Another pause.

“No. I just had to check in… Can I come by tomorrow? I still need to drop Mimi off.”

“Uh… right, about that. Listen…” Taehyung thinks for a second, “I think, maybe it’d be better if you just let her breathe for a moment. And I’ll come get Naomi.”

Another pause.

“Did she ask for that?”

Taehyung had half a mind to lie about it but he refrained, deciding that the truth would hurt him more. “You know she’d never. She’s too… stupid-” Stupidly in love with you. “-and you need to stop taking advantage of her; you need to hold back, Yoongi. You can’t go running to her for everything anymore.”

Yoongi knew he was in the wrong, but was annoyed that Taehyung was the one to tell him that.

Still a little in denial, he childishly spits, “Fine, bye. Get here before 7.”

Taehyung wanted to retaliate but he was immediately met with a little digital sound indicating that Yoongi had hung up on him.

A little bemused, Taehyung pulls your purple Samsung away from his ear and stares at it--- “So fucking typical.”

As Taehyung steps out of your room, he almost bulldozes you down.

“Jesus, _____.” Frowning, he asks, “Were you eavesdropping?”

You shook your head and wordlessly waved a jar of tiramisu in front of his nose.

Taehyung eyes you suspiciously, “I’m going to pick Naomi up tomorrow.”

When he says that, your face visibly drops. You didn’t actually expect Yoongi to pull away so fast. Was his girlfriend already keeping him from you now? You almost wanted to smack yourself in the head for thinking like you owned him.

Taehyung debates on whether he should elaborate or wait to see if you ask about it.

But you just gently and nonchalantly nod, “Right, of course. That’s okay. Please bring her here by 7.”

“He didn’t ask for this!” Taehyung blurts.

Your expression doesn’t change.

A little intimidated, he looked straight at his feet and explained, “I offered to pick her up. But Yoongi called because he wanted to talk to you. I just told him that I thought it was a bad idea.”

When he doesn’t hear you react, he slowly looks up at you, suddenly feeling miniscule. And he swore he could see steam coming out of your ears.

Taking a deep breath, you stare into his eyes, “You need to stop overstepping. You’ve done it once already. You need to stop.”

He almost felt the heat radiating from you.

Almost as if he didn’t actually expect you to react so negatively, he asks, “_____... You’re really mad about this?”

You slam your jar on the coffee table and storm off into the kitchen.

“The first time you meddled, Yoongi left me. The second time, he happened to meet his future wife. What’s it going to be now?”

Taehyung was stunned, “Are you kidding me? Are you just mad that I’m looking out for you in ways you yourself wouldn’t or do you really believe that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you planned it all,” you glare at him accusingly.

Too stunned to digest what you accused him of, his eyes just widened in bewilderment. “_____. I- Planned what, _____?”

You tip your head forward in mockery, “Planned what? Take a guess.”

The room fills with silence once more.

Taehyung shook his head, “I’m going to ignore all of that. And fine, I’ll ask him to call you back then.”

“No!” – “No?” He parrots.

“I don’t want him to call me.” You almost whine. You don’t even know what you truly want. (Actually, you do.)

“Okay.” Taehyung nodded reassuringly, his hands grasping at your elbows, “He won’t. I’ll bring Naomi back tomorrow. Okay?” But you shook your head obstinately, “No, I want her back now.”

“Right now?” - “Now.”

“_____...” He looked at the grandfather clock on your wall.

Cringing a little, Taehyung attempts to reason with you, “_____, it’s Yoongi’s turn to have her.”

“Yeah, that’s a spoken agreement, not a written and notarized thing. He can’t stop me from wanting to spend time with my daughter.” You’re sure this is evil _____ speaking and it’s as if you can’t control her.

Taehyung nervously cracks his knuckles. He doesn’t have a counter argument. You are Naomi’s mother and arguably the primary caretaker after all. He figures he owes you this.

“So, will you get her back for me?” You weren’t really giving him an option.

Taehyung knew your word was final. Either way, he wouldn’t police you on being a mother. “Let me give Yoongi a call, okay?”

“You do that. I’ll make you something to eat before you go!” You smile sweetly.

Not quite sure of your strategy here, all you knew was that you wanted your daughter with you. It was your way of gaining some control back in your life. You don’t have it in you to think of whether or not this was ethical or right. You just did not want to spiral.

From the kitchen, you could faintly hear Taehyung on the phone.

You take note of his assertiveness and slap some extra mortadella on his sandwich. He deserved it for putting up with you. You couldn’t think of anyone else who’d still be with you and handle your mood swings.

Was that normal or just sad? You do not want to think.

In your mind, you were satisfied in life. Sometimes you regret bringing up marriage with Yoongi. Maybe if you hadn’t forced the idea on him, you could’ve been in Hyejin’s place now.

The fact that you’re even in this position is ridiculous. Sooner or later you’d have to face… everything. The reason they’re getting married and you aren’t. The fact that they might have Nao be a part of their wedding and you’d just have to smile and nod, that Nao may have another parental figure, that you won’t be Yoongi’s bride or a bride at all, ever, and that maybe you’ve lost Yoongi’s companionship forever.

You had to step out for a bit.

Right at that moment, Taehyung emerges from the living room into the kitchen.

Sighing, he starts, “So, he agreed. He wants to know if everything’s okay. Of course, I know it isn’t but I told him he had nothing to worry about. And he didn’t buy it.” –

You push the little ceramic plate towards him, “Eat your sandwich.”

Taking a large bite out of it, Taehyung thanks you and adds, “--- by the way, your food is on the dining table, I didn’t actually give it away, you know?”

“I saw it,” you confirmed, “Jus’ not hungry.”

Quickly changing the topic back to Nao, you ask, “So, can Nao be back now or…?”

“Yeah. Here’s the thing…” He stalled. “Nao’s coming now.”

A gulp. You think he’s swallowing his food.

“Yoongi’s coming with.”

‘Why do you always bring me bad news?’ is what you wanted to ask. Instead, you squeak out a “When?”

“Twenty minutes? Told me Nao was already dolled up or something.” He finishes his sandwich and washes the plate.

In a soothing tone, Taehyung proposes, “Why don’t you head down to the pâtisserie? I’ll receive them. You don’t have to worry about seeing him, okay?”

You appreciated his offer but chose to decline it, “No. It’s okay. I need to tidy up anyway,” – “_____, I’ll do it for you. I know how you like it. Go take a walk or grab a sweet treat or something, yes?”

“No, it’ll take too long for you to do it by yourself. You can help me though. Just do my bed, please?” You’re already walking off.

Taehyung follows you into your room but doesn’t have a chance to stop you, you’re already stripping down and into your ‘serious cleaning’ clothes. It’s just an old dress and rubber gloves.

Sometimes, Taehyung mourns what you and Yoongi could have been. You’re perfect for each other. The two of you just needed to work on your communication a little. He’s thinking about how much of you Yoongi’s missing out on and can’t help but scoff. In pop culture terms, he really fumbled you.

Suddenly you gasp, “Did you watch me change?” Aimed at the man.

“No!” Vehemently shaking his head, he repeats, “Not intentionally! I was zoned out!”

“Wow, calm down, I don’t mind, you know that.” You smile sweetly once again.

Grabbing a pillow, he sighs. Sometimes, he thinks you toy with him on purpose. He really can’t tell.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Forty minutes go by yet there has been no sign of Nao or Yoongi. No calls or messages, no updates whatsoever.

You ought to get Nao a little phone for herself. How had you not thought of this before? It’ll probably be a lot more useful now.

You were nervously readjusting the doilies in a circle over and over again when the doorbell suddenly rang.

Taehyung’s resting figure suddenly snapped upright, “I’ll get it.”

However, you were closer to the door and got to it before he could take two steps.

When you open the door, you wished Taehyung would’ve beaten you to it. You wish you had taken that walk or chosen to buy yourself a sweet drink; because you couldn’t even have guessed what was waiting for you on the other side of the door.

Nothing could have prepared you to see your ex-boyfriend with his current girlfriend and your daughter. Together. All of them. Holding hands. In front of you for the very first time. All of them.

While Yoongi had the decency of looking literally anywhere but in your eyes, you couldn’t say the same about his girlfriend. Fiancée.

Hyejin, placed between your daughter and your ex, exhaled a dreamy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me intruding, _____! Nao-chan wanted to show you our matching hairstyle!”

Bewildered and wordless, all you could do was smile and nod. You mechanically turn your head to look at Nao, who sported a baby pink lock of hair amongst her regular, natural hair identical to Hyejin’s.

You nodded and stepped aside, briefly bumping into Taehyung who looked just as uncomfortable as Yoongi, making space for the lovely family to step into your home. Your eyes were glued to your feet.

Just like always, before you take a drastic step, your daughter grounds you as she runs to you and clings to your lower half. Although, the pink strands of hair brushing against you almost make you lose it all. Almost.

Following which Taehyung breaks the tension by awkwardly, yet warmly greeting the pair, taking a load off of you.

You needed to lie down.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ how to disappear completely by radiohead ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: sorry! it probably gets better! i think this one has a few edits pending but i couldn't waitttt

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