#she’s suffering and it eats at my heart every day that i can’t fix it myself

[transmechanicus]

Anyone who has followed me for the past 2 months knows i am desperately trying to fundraise for my cherished friend @the-sera in order to get urgent treatment to save her life. I cannot overstate that she is in incapacitating pain, which makes daily survival extremely challenging. Donations have almost completely stopped and if we can’t at least hit our short term goal of 18K within the next month or so, it is unavoidable that my friend may die before the end of the year. I don't have the resources to save her life on my own, so if you’re reading this i’m on my knees begging. Please reblog this, please donate even $5. Help me save my friend as you would strive to save yours.

11.1K/18K

[bitethedevil]

The Virtue of Chastity (Chapter 1/2)

Tags: Corruption, Dark!Raphael, Dub-Con, Nun gets corrupted by devil-trope

TW: Dubious Consent, Depictions of Illness, Death, NSFW Content, Mention of Thoughts of Suicide

AO3 LINK

(Chapter 2)

Summary:

A cleric of Ilmater is mourning the loss of someone dear to her. Lucian, an earlier patient of hers who she loved dearly, had died from his illness, but not before revealing that he had sold his soul to a devil. Destroyed by the knowledge she cannot save him from his suffering in the afterlife, she runs into a strange man by the name Raphael. He says he can fix it all and bring her the soul of her dear Lucian.

He is also oddly fascinated by the fact that she has sworn a Vow of Chastity, and he seems to know an awful lot about her and her relationship with Lucian.

AN: Basically: Nun gets corrupted by the devil-trope. Raphael is a bit of a creep in this one. Not my most edited fic. I wrote this whole thing over the span of a day, but felt like sharing anyway.

It was a warm summer’s day. The birds were singing, and the sun was kissing her tear-stained cheeks, almost as if everything around her was reveling in her suffering. She just could not stop crying. As a cleric of Ilmater she had done everything she could to save Lucian, and yet, it had not been enough. Ilmater had bid her to bear the sufferings of others, but this time she had been robbed of the opportunity to do so.

When Lucian came to the temple the very first time, he had already been sick for months. The disease was taking more and more each day, but it was an excruciatingly slow process. She had gotten to know him well. Despite all the pain he was in, he had always found it in him to make jokes and keep his spirits high in her company. They had become close.

It was clear that Lucian also wanted more, but he did not want to burden her when he knew that he was going to die, and it was not as if she was able to return his love either. She was trying to live up to the virtue name she had taken on after her parents died and she swore a vow. The act of loving someone else in that manner was forbidden. She was not supposed to have relationship or love anyone above others. Her purpose was to serve the Crying God and thus her purpose was to suffer.

Her biggest trial in suffering began when the sickness had started eating at Lucian’s mind. She had gone to his bed to tend to him, as she always had, and one day he did not recognize her. His eyes had widened in fear as he looked at her red skin and the horns on her head, and he had recoiled from her, shouting: ‘No no no, leave me alone, devil! You can’t take my soul! I’m not dead yet! Please!’

Her heart sank at his words, and she knew that he would never find peace, not even in death. Ilmater would not be able to soothe his soul in the afterlife, for his soul had already been given away. Not a tenday after, Lucian died and was then buried in the graveyard outside the temple. She had come there to sit at his grave every time she could sneak out there without any of the other clerics noticing.

She heard a sound behind her and quickly dried the tears from her eyes before getting up in a hurry. She cleared her throat and turned her face downwards so that he would not be able to see that she had cried.

“Forgive me,” she hurriedly apologized and dried off more of her tears with her sleeve, trying to ready herself to face who she thought to be Father Marcus. “I was just getting some sun. I will be in for prayer in a moment.”

“Please, take your time,” she heard some say in a smooth voice that was not Father Marcus’s. “I am in no hurry.”

She turned around. It was a darkhaired man in clothing that looked to be more expensive than the homes of some of her patients. He was leaning on a cane. She lowered her head and forced a polite smile.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I thought you were someone else. Our Martyred Father welcomes you to his temple. Can I help you, Saer?”

The man smiled and then moved closer to her. A pained expression came over his face as he began to walk. She quickly moved over to him once she saw that his legs were troubling him. She let him lean on her as she moved him to sit on the bench. He was wearing some expensive perfume and there was some other unidentifiable smell that violated her nostrils as she did so, though she was too polite to wrinkle her nose at it.

“Thank you, dear,” the man said. “I have come for the ‘alleviation of my suffering’ as so many others do at this temple of yours. I merely wanted to have a look around, when I stumbled upon you.”

That did seem odd. She could not help looking him over again. The temples of Ilmater usually only helped the poor, the old and the unfortunate. This man looked like he did not fall into any of those categories. He was middle-aged and clearly wealthy. He smiled at her expression.

“Yes, I am aware that I may not look like your other patients,” he said. “Though I can assure you that I am in dire need of help, with no family or loved ones to take care of me. Please sit.”

She lowered her gaze. She had not meant to be so transparent in her thoughts. She sat down beside him, leaving some space between them.

“Apologies,” she said. “Any and all who are suffering are welcomed in the temple.”

He chuckled at that.

“My, what an apologetic young lady you are,” he said. “You have not wronged me in any way or sense, dear, so let us put a lid on all the ‘forgive me’s and ‘apologies’. It does get so awfully tiring with repetition in conversation.”

“Forgive—” she stopped herself and sighed before looking at him with a polite smile. “I should go inside, Saer.”

When she looked at him, there was a hint of concern on his features. He reached out and cradled her face with his hand and ran a thumb over her cheek. She froze completely at the touch.

“You’ve been crying,” he cooed. “Poor thing.”

She removed his hand with the wariness of someone removing a knife that was being held to their throat.

“Saer—”

“Raphael,” he said.

“Raphael…” she repeated and gave him a tight smile. “I had thought that Father Marcus might have explained this to you when you arrived, but it is strictly forbidden to touch any of the clerics here. But no worries…You did not know, but please do remember this in the future.”

“My apologies,” he said in a tone that slightly suggested that he did not mean it in the least. “I too have a difficult time ignoring other people’s suffering, I’m afraid. I would assume we have that in common, my dear. What is your name?”

“Chastity,” she said and folded her hands in her lap.

“Chastity…” he repeated, a smile widening on his face “What a lovely name…And why is it that the clerics here are not to be touched? I would assume that you are allowed to touch your patients, or else it would make your mission here very difficult.”

“Some of the clerics here have taken vows,” she explained. “We touch the patients, yes, but they are not allowed to touch the clerics.”

He nodded. He kept trying to chase her eye contact with the angle of his head every time she lowered her gaze.

“Aah yes, I see,” he purred. “There are three different vows that clerics of Ilmater can undertake, isn’t there? Should I venture a guess which category you fall under, Chastity?”

She smiled at his little joke out of politeness.

“You are quite observant,” she said.

“That I am. So, tell me, Chastity,” he said. “Who is this ‘Lucian’ to you? It was his grave you were weeping at, was it not?”

She looked up at him at the mention of Lucian’s name. Her expression fell into one of sadness, but she quickly schooled her features.

“A former patient of mine,” she answered in a quiet voice. “I really should get back inside. There is so much work to do.”

She got up from the bench, and the man’s gaze followed her as she did.

“And things were just getting interesting,” he said in feigned disappointment. “No matter. I’m certain I will see you around. It was a pleasure to meet you, Chastity.”

“And you, Saer,” she replied quickly before rushing inside.

“Chastity, a moment please, when you are done.”

She looked up at Father Marcus. She feared that she was in trouble or that her daily visits to the graveyard had been discovered. She turned her attention back to her patient and gave her a tight smile as she tried to push down her anxiety and finish bandaging her up. Once she was done, she wiped her bloodied hands in a piece of cloth and walked up to Father Marcus.

“Yes, Father?” she asked.

Father Marcus was quiet for a moment too long like he always was. He was looking at her intently, his brow furrowing and the wrinkles there creasing as he studied her, as if he was trying to remember what he was supposed to ask her. He was getting old, so she was beginning to get used to it.

“Oh yes,” he said. “You are going to a house in the Upper City later today.”

She was relieved that she was not in trouble, but she was however confused about his request. They never visited the homes of their patients, as they were always transported to the temple for care instead. She did have a vague idea of who she would be visiting, however. She had only met one patient who seemed wealthy enough to live in that part of the city.

“The Upper City, Father?” she asked. “What for exactly?”

“There is a man who needs alleviating,” Father Marcus answered. “I have the directions written down for you.”

“But Father we never—”

The old man looked away and waved his hand. A gesture she was more than familiar with throughout her time at the temple, meaning: We are done speaking. Do as I say. She sighed. It irked her to have to walk all the way to the Upper City for this patient. They never made exceptions. This was preferential treatment to someone who was rich, and that was not what the temple or Ilmater’s teachings stood for.

She took the scroll from his hand and read it. It contained directions and the necessary supplies she needed to bring. She gathered what she needed and left the temple. She rarely ever left the temple, and she hated walking around in the city. There was so much suffering everywhere: orphans, people who were selling themselves, people without homes… There was enough to fill the temple a hundred times.

The amount of suffering around her lessened the closer she got to the Upper City. Then it was the disgusting level of excess and greed that made her uncomfortable. The people around her were dressed in clothing so expensive that it could feed multiple families in the Lower City. She eventually made it to the grand mansion of her patient. A tiefling servant let her inside and herded her to his master’s chambers.

It was an odd feeling to walk through the halls of the mansion. There were small signs here and there that suggested a larger family with children lived there, and yet, it was completely quiet and empty. Surely, if there had been a larger family living there, Raphael would not have needed the help of the temple. Then again, it could be that he had lost his family or some other misfortune. Father Marcus had always taught her that it was best not to meddle and to keep your mouth shut, so she did.

When she entered Raphael’s chambers, he was seated in an armchair, reading a book. His cane was resting against the chair. He looked up at her when she entered and gave her a big smile before gesturing to the servant to leave them.

“Chastity,” he greeted. “How lovely that you could take the time out of your no doubt very busy schedule to visit me. I would get up to greet you properly, but I am sure you will forgive this rude lack of formality. My legs are aching terribly.”

She bowed her head in greeting. She felt awkward. She had not been in a room alone with a patient ever. There had always been other patients or clerics about somewhere. Not only that, but she was in a room alone with a man. It did something to her nerves. She moved closer.

“I have brought some potions that should help,” she said quietly and fiddled with the bag of supplies in her hands.

He looked her up and down, his gaze landing on her face. He was studying her.

“Is something the matter?” he asked in a gentle voice. “You’re shaking.”

“Forgive me—”

Raphael stopped her with a finger in the air, as if to remind her of their previous conversation and his opinion on her apologetic nature. She shut her mouth and gave him a tightlipped smile.

“This is new to me,” she explained. “We never venture outside the temple unless it is urgent, or we are bringing in a new patient.”

“Ah, I see,” he said and nodded. “No need to be nervous here. I won’t harm you. I can also assure you that this might be a wonderful opportunity for you. I tend to help those who help me, as I am sure your dear Father Marcus can confirm.”

Ah. Raphael was donating to the temple and that was the reason for this preferential treatment. She should have known. It put more pressure on her, because the gods know that the temple needed the gold.

She simply nodded and came closer. She looked at Raphael’s legs and then at his face.

“I’ll need to examine you first,” she said. “This would really be easier if you were laying down. Do you think we can move you to the bed?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” he answered.

She looked him over again and then gave him a little nod. She sat down on the carpet in front of him with her knees under her. She could have sworn she saw Raphael smirk as she lowered herself to the floor. She could feel his eyes on her, though she kept her gaze lowered.

“Please tell me if anything hurts,” she said and gently put her hands on one of his calves.

She pressed slightly to feel for knots or any deformities. There was nothing. His calf was surprisingly muscular for someone who could not move around much, she noticed. She felt his other leg and the result was the same.

“It’s further up,” he said.

She moved her hands to his knee and pressed down gently on it. Nothing.

“Further,” he purred.

She glanced up at him for a moment before moving her hands up to his lower thigh.

“Further…”

She moved her hands up further and he made a show of wincing.

“Yes, right there,” he groaned.

She pressed on his upper thigh, feeling her way around it. She massaged it slightly, making him groan again.

“I don’t feel any knots or anything,” she stated and moved to the other thigh to do the same thing.

As she did, she suddenly noticed the growing bulge in his pants. She looked the other way and continued her work. It was not unusual. This sometimes happened with male patients and often they could not control it, she had been taught. Though most usually had the decency to be embarrassed, but not him. After a few more moments she let go of his leg and got up off the floor. She grabbed her bag of supplies and brought them to his desk.

“I hope you do not mind that I borrow your space,” she said. “In my hurry, I did not have the time to prepare the potions beforehand.”

“Please,” he said and gestured to the desk. “Did I embarrass you, dear? That pretty red skin of yours seems a tad more red than usual, if my eyes do not fail me.”

There was clear amusement in his voice. She turned her back to him as she worked on the potions. She was flustered. So flustered that a reply did not come. He chuckled at her silence.

“Tell me, Chastity,” he said. “What is the purpose of swearing a vow like yours?”

She fumbled a bit with the ingredients in her hands as she was asked that question. By Ilmater’s hands, why was this man making her so uncomfortable? She steadied her hand and took a deep breath before replying.

“Because I want to be of service to Ilmater. Because my parents handed me to the temple when they both got sick and soon after died. I chose the virtue name Chastity and swore a vow soon after. I want to honor them by helping others, like the temple tried to help my parents and I, and the best way to do so is to stay focused on a greater purpose instead of the selfish desires that control us. That is why I took my vow.”

“My condolences,” he said from behind her. “I have always found the odd tradition of tiefling virtue names to seem so limiting. Surely, all of ones goals cannot be summed up so easily…but as long as you are happy, of course …”

She was relieved when he seemed to let it go. She kept cutting the ingredients to the potion in peace, enjoying the quiet despite still feeling tense. She could feel him staring into her back. He spoke again after a long while.

“I hope you will excuse my curiosity, but…have you ever been with anyone?” he asked casually.

“No,” she answered without hesitation. “And I never will.”

“Not even your dear Lucian?” he asked in that same casual tone.

A shiver ran down her back at the question. It was all too personal all of a sudden. She shook her head before looking at him.

“Please don’t speak of him to me,” she warned, though she tried to keep her tone light and cordial.

Raphael ignored her warning.

“His death weighs heavily on you, doesn’t it?” he asked with feigned concern. “Father Marcus told me that he almost did not get a proper burial, since he owes his soul to a devil. How very unfortunate.”

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes at the mention of it.

“Don’t,” she said. “Please…”

“I am sorry, my dear,” he said in a soft voice. “I did not mean to upset you. I simply meant what a terrible situation that must be. You clearly loved him. You had taken care of him for so long and you don’t even get the peace of knowing that he is in a better place. Instead, you are left here all alone, with no one to hold you or comfort you as you bear the burden of so many on your shoulders. I feel for you, I truly do.”

She was shaking again, but not from being uncomfortable. She was instead trying to hold back her emotions. It was scary how well this stranger knew of her situation. A tear rolled down her cheek and she hastily wiped it away with the sleeve of her robe.

“Shhh-shh-shh, it’s fine, my dear. Cry,” he cooed gently and held out a hand to her. “Come here.”

She stared at his hand as if it would strike out and hit her. She was not supposed to let others touch her. On the other hand, Father Marcus would be furious if she lost them a sponsor that they definitely needed with the way things were. That is not to mention all the people they could help with this man’s money.

She swallowed hard and walked closer to him. He took her hand and pulled her to sit in his lap in one swift movement. She struggled, but his firm grip around her waist did not allow her to move away. One of his hands went up to cradle her head and push it gently to his shoulder, like a parent comforting a child might do.

“Relax,” he cooed and gently ran his fingers through her hair. “I won’t hurt you and no one has to know. It will be our little secret, hm?”

She could not control it. She started sobbing. She had not been held, let alone touched, by anyone since her parents died. She found herself clinging to this stranger that she barely knew. She would crawl into him if she could. The closeness was intoxicating. For a moment she felt safe and cared for.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he cooed. “Let me help carry the burden of all that suffering you have held for others for so many years.”

She nodded. She could barely breathe from crying so much. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and then whispered in her ear.

“You have been so awfully kind to me, Chastity,” he whispered. “Let me be kind to you in return. If you keep assisting me and being so wonderfully obedient, then I promise to rid you of all of your troubles. I will return your beloved Lucian to you so he will not have to suffer anymore.”

She felt a painful glimmer of hope in her heart. She sniffled into his doublet.

“You can’t bring him back…”

Raphael placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head.

“No, I’m afraid I can’t,” he said. “But I can put an end to his suffering. I happen to have some very powerful connections, you know. I can retrieve his soul from the Hells and give it to you.”

She shakes her head and dries her tears. It was too good to be true.

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

He smiled and pulled something from his pocket. A large iron coin. He handed it to her. She could feel immediately that it was not a normal coin. It felt familiar when she held it. It was as if she was sitting at Lucian’s bed, listening to his terrible jokes and laughing with him. The coin felt like him. There was both awe and sadness in her eyes as her breath hitched and tears started falling once again. Raphael gently took it from her hands and stuffed it back in his pocket.

“Do you believe me now?” he asked and caressed her side in a comforting manner.

“How did you—”

“Ah,” he interrupted with a smile. “I cannot tell you, but I am a man of my word. If you serve me, I’ll serve you.”

“Why?” she asked next. “Why me?”

Raphael ran his hand up and down her side as he studied her with a smile.

“Like I said, I find it difficult to see people suffering around me,” he purred and let go off her so she could move off his lap. “Off you go back to your temple, dear…before you have any unholy thoughts. If I see you again, I will take it as an agreement to this little arrangement.”

Her mind was buzzing with thoughts as she left the mansion and the Upper City.

[emsylcatac]

I told myself I wouldn't write anymore but guess I lied and made an exception for tonight oop-

(no beta so sorry if some grammar's weird. also no leaks please I haven't read any & I'd like for it to stay that way)

I might add a 2nd chapter to fix that mess but when will this happen? will this actually happen?? who knows certainly not me

*****

“And then I had lunch with Nino,” Adrien said. “That was nice. We hadn’t managed to eat together for at least a week.”

Ladybug smiled. “I’m glad. I can’t picture you two being separated for too long.”

“Well, we don’t really have a choice this year. He picked literature, and I picked scientific. We’re not in the same class anymore,” he shrugged with half a smile, before brightening up. “But we still see each other during the breaks!”

Adrien then launched into an explanation of the rules of the latest board game he and Nino had played during the afternoon break. He kept looking into Ladybug’s eyes all the while, delighting in the way they lit up at his enthusiasm, and taking pride in the small chuckles that escaped her lips when he retold a particularly funny joke he’d made.

Ladybug loved hearing about his day. He knew she did because she always asked about it, every day when they reunited, sitting cross-legged face-to-face on the floor. And every day, she nodded along his stories and encouraged him to tell her more.

And Adrien loved telling her about his day. It had taken some time before he allowed himself to fully recount every detail that had happened, having never really been used to talking about himself at all with his father. But unlike his father who would cut him with a stern look or – he later realised – a twist of his ring, Ladybug never seemed tired to hear him talk.

Once he finished telling her about how Tom Dupain had insisted –again– on giving him free chouquettes when he stopped by the bakery, Adrien asked: “And you, my Lady, how was your day?”

She smiled sadly, in a way he was now too familiar with, and his heart dropped. 

Of course.

“Oh. Right. You can’t tell me. I forgot.” 

Like every single day. 

He looked away from her, not wanting to see the pity nor the apology he was sure to find in her eyes. The red kwagatama on his neck suddenly felt too heavy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he knew she was. It hurt nonetheless.

“That’s okay,” he whispered back, knowing well that it very much wasn’t. Adrien was scared it never would be.

“You’re allowed to be angry at me, you know,” Ladybug said, not for the first time since he’d started meeting her in secret.

“It’s not your fault. It’s my father’s,” he spat out the word. “And I’m…” he sighed, and with it let all his energy leave his body. “Ladybug, I’m so tired of being angry at people. I can’t… I can’t be angry with you on top of it.”

It wasn’t entirely true. A small part of him was angry with her, but he knew that she was suffering from the consequences just as much if not more than he did. And he truly was exhausted of feeling angry all the time, at his father, at Nathalie, at his mother, everyone who pretended they wanted the best for him but ended up destroying themselves instead; at Félix for keeping him in the dark, at himself for being too stupid to see what had been right under his nose. The list was long enough as it was and didn’t need to include Ladybug, who was a victim of his father's power hunt just as much as he was.

“But you’re allowed to be,” Ladybug said softly.

He felt a tear prickling at the corner of his eye.

“Oh, Adrien” Ladybug breathed, and he hated himself for how sad he’d made her sound. She extended a hand towards him. “I really want to grab your hand.”

He sniffed, and whipped his stray tear away before a stream could run on his cheek. “I really want you to grab my hand, too. And kiss it.” He reached for hers back but stopped millimeters away.

Ladybug smiled shyly, and he could guess the ghost of a blush creeping up her cheeks. “I want you to kiss my hand, Chaton. I always loved when you did it.”

This time, he felt his own cheeks lit up. They got lost in each other’s eyes, hands never quite touching, lulling Adrien further into the illusion that what they were sharing now was real.

But as it always did, reality found a way to crash down on him like the cold in the night right before dawn. Except unlike dawn that promised warmth and light, Adrien’s world stayed cold and dark as his phone rang. He glared at the traitorous device until he saw the name of the caller.

“Who is it?” Ladybug asked.

Adrien smiled bitterly. “Marinette.”

“Oh. Um…” Ladybug wriggled awkwardly. “Are you going to answer her?”

Adrien wasn’t sure he felt strong enough for that. But he had promised her and himself that he’d be there for her, no matter what. 

So he took a deep breath, and picked up the phone.

“Hey. What’s up?”

Sniffles greeted him on the other side, and he instantly felt bad for guiltily spending time with Ladybug when he could have been supporting her.

“He made me another strawberry tartlet. Tom– I mean, my dad. He…he told me again how much ‘she’ used to love them. He told me again how ‘she’d’ always steal some from the bakery counter as a kid. He thinks because ‘she’ loved strawberries that I would too.” Marinette let out a sob. “Well, you know what? I don’t love strawberries. I’m tired of strawberry tartlets. They’re fine, but they’re not my favourites, they’re her favourites. And I’m so sick of pretending they are to not hurt him.”

Adrien listened as she caught her breath, feeling at a loss for words.

“I loved my dad’s strawberry tartlets,” Ladybug interrupted sadly. “It reminded me of the picnics we shared on holidays in the countryside when I was a kid. We’d always eat some by the river.”

Adrien nodded in acknowledgement. It made sense that Marinette couldn’t understand what made this pastry so special.

“I’m so sorry, Marinette,” he whispered so quietly he wasn’t sure she heard him. 

“Everyone…everyone expects me to be just like her and I keep disappointing them because I can’t satisfy the expectations they have of me,” Marinette choked. “They want me to like sewing, they want me to wear pink… I can’t with pink anymore, all my bedroom walls are pink, everywhere I look there’s pink, it’s too much! I feel like… I feel like I’m suffocating.”

Adrien squeezed his eyes shut, fighting against tears that were threatening to take over him. She sounded so broken. He knew she was, of course he did, but he hadn’t realised how much she’d been holding in all this time. How much she’d been pretending for their sake – and as someone who’d mastered the skill for most of his life, he couldn’t let her suffer from it. 

And holding onto her ghost that he wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet wasn’t going to help her. It wasn’t fair to either of them. He knew all too well how to grieve someone he’d lost. But how did he grieve for someone who was still there?

Adrien took a deep breath, trying to get his voice under control. “I’m coming over, okay Marinette ? And then, I’m taking you to the store.”

Ladybug nodded in encouragement.

“And…and you’ll pick whatever colour you like. And I’ll… I’ll help you repaint your room with it, okay? How does that sound?”

Marinette sniffled. “Any colour I want? What if it’s something she hated?”

Adrien’s voice quivered. “What matters is what you want. I think she’d…I think she’d want you to feel good.” Ladybug smiled softly, nodding. “I want you to feel good.”

“Thank you, Adrien,” Marinette whispered. “I really…I really appreciate it. I’ll get ready,” and she hung up.

Adrien stared at his phone silently for a long time, before snapping his gaze back at Ladybug. 

“My Lady, I’m so–”

“Don’t,” she lifted a finger that went through his lips. “Don’t apologise. Especially not if it’s to take care of me,” she smiled. “Thank you for that. I really admire you, you know.”

“I really admire you too,” he said quietly.

“You should tell her that,” she replied. “She’d appreciate it.”

“I will,” he vowed.

He didn’t want to leave Ladybug just yet. But he knew it wasn’t reasonable to drag this on, and Plagg or Tikki would be coming back soon anyways. He really didn’t need to go through another lecture of how him meeting Ladybug hurt him more than it did him good, and that Marinette hadn’t given him her kwagatama for that.

Adrien spared one last glance at Ladybug, took a deep breath, and let his eyes flutter shut.

“End of reunion,” he whispered.

When he opened his eyes again, he was alone in the quiet of the room.

[stewpid-soup]

okay, i just watched The Substance, a psychological horror/thriller + body horror film I HIGHLY recommend - so many spoilers!!

for anyone who doesn’t want spoilers, have a good rest of ur day and take care of yourselves <33

take a pic of my cat Luna for your troubles :3

OKAY SO THIS FUCKING FILM- I COULD LITERALLY GO ON ABT THIS FOR HOURS

THE WAY IT WAS SUCH A MASTERPIECE IN WAYS I CANT EVEN DESCRIBE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE!!!

Like, it’s rare I watch a movie and think “yeah, i have absolutely zero complaints and i would watch this over and over until it’s seared into my brain” — BUT THIS HIT EVERY MARK!!

THE GORE & BODY HORROR - INFINITY/10 BECAUSE OH MY GOD???? ME AND MY MOM WERE JUST OVERJOYED ABT THE GORE AND MY DAD JUST COULDNT HANDLE IT- HE WAS PHYSICALLY CRINGING BC OF IT - IS IT THE MOST REALISTIC SHIT? OBVIOUSLY NOT (i would be more concerned if they perfected gore to look realistic ngl), BUT THE SHEER AMOUNT OF IT AND THE SOUNDS AND THE WAY YOU SEE IT AND THINK “oh god, that would fucking hurt” THE SHIT THAT MAKES YOU CRINGE AND SHIVER AT THE THOUGHT OF!

THE CINEMATOGRAPHY - 10/10 - THE CUTSCENES, THE LIGHTING, THE WAY IT REALLY SHOVES THINGS RIGHT IN YOUR FACE AND SAYS “Look at this! Look at the horrifying things this woman is doing to feel like she is enough! See in 4K how she destroys her own body to keep the only thing she knows gives her worth, the only thing that makes people find her worth talking to— her body!” My mother suffers from chronic migraines so yes, the amount of flashing lights in it can be a bit jarring (so warning for anyone who is prone to seizures or is light sensitive). But to me it doesn’t feel like it’s too overdone, like many horror films tend to do with flashing lights— it makes sense why those sequences are there, it makes sense why they choose the lighting, to me: it makes sense and seems to align with the story

THE ACTING - DEMI MOORE (Actress who plays Elizabeth Sparkle) FUCKING POPPED OFF WITH THIS?!!??? AND MARGARET QUALLEY (Actress who plays Sue)!!! GOD, THE WAY I COULD FEEL THE RAGE WHEN SUE WAS CHASING ELIZABETH AROUND THE HOUSE! THE WAY ALL REASON WAS THROWN OUT THE WINDOW AND ALL SHE WANTED WAS TO TEAR HER OLD SELF APART BECAUSE IT’S EVERYTHING SHE LOATHES! THE WAY IT’S INGRAINED IN HER THAT SHE IS ONLY DESERVING OF BEING ALIVE BECAUSE SHE’S BEAUTIFUL! AND ELIZABETH— GOD, THE WAY I MY HEART WRENCHED WHEN SHE LOOKED IN THE MIRROR WHEN PREPPING FOR HER DATE WITH FRED! THE GOING BACK AND FORTH, THE ANGER AND FRUSTRATION AND SENSE OF DOOM BECAUSE SHE ISN’T THE “BETTER VERSION OF HERSELF”!! THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT THE BILLBOARD OUTSIDE HER WINDOW, THE WAY SHE MOCKED SUE’S INTERVIEW, THE SHAME SHE FELT FOR HER BODY BEFORE SHE USED THE SUBSTANCE— AND EVEN BY THE END OF THE FILM, IT NEVER WENT AWAY! IT WASN’T FIXED, SHE STILL HATED HERSELF. BUT SHE REALIZED TOO LATE THAT SHE RUINED NOT JUST HER BODY BUT HER QUALITY OF LIFE BY THE END! THAT SHE WAS LETTING THE NEED TO FIT THESE IMPOSSIBLE STANDARDS CONTROL HER LIFE! OH MY GOD AND DENNIS QUAID (Harvey’s actor - the guy who fired Elizabeth and hired Sue)?!? LITERALLY JUST PLAYS THE “PIECE OF SHIT” PERSONA SO PERFECTLY!! THE WAY HIS CHARACTER IS SO DISGUSTING- AND NOT JUST BEHAVIOR WISE! THE FACT HE DOESNT WASH HIS HANDS AFTER THE BATHROOM OR THE FACT HE EATS AS LOUDLY AND MESSILY AS POSSIBLE WHILE FIRING SOMEONE, THE NONSTOP SMOKING — BUT ALSO HIS MISOGYNISTIC JABS, THE WAY HE ONLY WANTED TO HIRE A NEW, YOUNGER WOMAN BECAUSE HE BELIEVES THAT ELIZABETH LOST HER “SEX APPEAL” AND ISN’T SOMETHING THAT FITS THE MALE GAZE!! HIS LAUGH IRKS ME IN A WAY I CAN’T DESCRIBE! IT WAS FANTASTIC!!

THE PLOT OVERALL & THE MORAL(S) OF THE STORY - INFINITY/10 — LORD I AM TOO TIRED TO TYPE ALL OF THIS BUT FUCK MAN, IT REALLY REALLY HIT ME. Especially after the elections, knowing that our fucking president looks at women and says “your body, my choice”, this really hit hard for me. The way that the body horror truly encapsulates just how horrific the reality is for women who are popular in the media- the things they feel like they have to do to survive in such a toxic and disgusting environment! Women have been told that all their worth is dependent on their bodies, their beauty- but The Substance truly shows just how much that shit can affect us, shows how much it can hurt your mental health- which will, in turn, affect your physical health!

god, this movie truly was a masterpiece and i highly recommend it to anyone who likes psychological thrillers/horrors & can handle watching body horror! i’m fucking exhausted, and i’ve had such a shitty week- and while this doesn’t exactly give me any hope for our future, it does show that we aren’t alone in our struggles. even the people we admire, whether it’s an actor or a content creator in general, struggle with accepting their flaws and not letting society determine their worth based on such shallow and superficial things.

maybe my ramble is a bit silly and a bit all over the place, so i’m sorry for that, again i’m fucking exhausted— but i had to post abt this

AND I NEED TO POST ABT THE GAME MOUTHWASHING SOON BC THE HYPERFIXATIONS ARE SO REAL!!

But anyways, if anyone read this far, thank you and have a wonderful rest of your day <3

[indigoraysoflight]

9 "You're not allowed to pick the movie ever again." For caryl

Hey anon! Thanks for waiting. Life got busy. So…IDK if a movie is something they have the luxury to watch in the TWD (based on the time frame I ended up writing this in), so I’ll try to incorporate the dialogue. But actual movie-watching won't be involved, I'm afraid. For future reference, I usually write more angsty (sometimes with a happy twist at the end) style fics that go hand in hand with canon, so let’s hope I can achieve that here. One movie reference is based on cast interviews. And the movie choice is obviously a callback haha. Hopefully, this was worth the wait. Thanks for the prompt!

Missing Scene / 11x12 / Aftermath of “The Lucky Ones” 

~

One Day

Daryl idly browsed the CDs and LPs stacked in boxes on a table in front of the general store. Need to clear my head after Hilltop, he thought, as he glanced at the reflection of “Elodies Bakery” on the glass window in front of him.

Hilltop was barely holding on. Hershel was happier than ever, looking more and more like Glenn every day – even if he got his smile from his granddaddy. Maggie and Lydia met him with brave faces, but he knew them better. Some things can’t be fixed ya know? Lydia’s words kept looping through his head as his eyes drifted to the reflection of the bakery again. 

He hadn't really spent any time with her in days. Sometimes they bumped into each other. They’d share updates, talk about life for a minute or two and then go their own way. But their conversations were always to the point, quick, and distant. 

It was hard not to sound distant or cold when she gave him the same tight-lipped smile she gave everyone else. His mind would go back to their fight, and he would close up – remember the cabin, how he almost lost her in the cave, or when she led the horde away. 

Then I lost her anyway 'cause I told her I wouldn't stop her if she left, he thought. 

But she stayed and fixed everything. Saved everyone and kept them fed while he was stuck with the Reapers. He returned knowing more than ever where he belonged, but they were in the Commonwealth before he could do anything about it. The wound left behind from their fight still waiting to be healed. 

Feels kinda pointless sometimes, Lydia had said when she told him about wanting to leave Hilltop. He understood that feeling all too well. He felt for Lydia. The kid had suffered through enough in her short life; she deserved a bit of peace.

However short-lived peace will be this time ‘round. The thought left an acidic taste on his tongue. But it’d be nice to have her close. He huffed a laugh, wondering if she’d want to live with him and the kids. But something in his heart told him Lydia would go live with-

“Hey.” 

Her voice jolted through his heart, and he tried to pretend it was because she caught him by surprise as he turned to look at her.

Carol.

Her hair was in a messy bun, silver glinting in the late afternoon sun, and she wore a blue top that made her eyes look impossibly blue. She pushed a stray strand of hair off her face as she walked up to him and gave him that tightlipped smile. It instantly dunked him in cold water. 

“Hi.”  

“Finished my shift early, so I picked the kids up from Jerry’s and thought to give them a treat.” She leaned her back on the table and looked out. He turned and followed her gaze to the ice cream truck on the other side of the square. Judith and RJ were eating ice cream at a table with Dog sitting patiently, wagging his tail. 

“How is she? How’s Hilltop?” she asked quietly. 

Daryl’s eyes were back on the stack he was perusing. He chewed his lip. “She’s survivin’, and so is Hilltop. Seen worse days.” 

He wanted to kick himself for his choice of words when she stiffened up in his periphery. He hadn’t meant it the way she’d heard it.

Daryl squinted up at her nervously and changed the subject. “Hey, thanks for that jar of lollipops for Hershel. Judith told me you got 'em for her.”

"I wish I'd known sooner. If I had more time, I would’ve prepared a proper care package for all of them." Carol barely held his gaze and looked down, idly tracing the cracks in the masonry on the ground with her shoe. 

“...Everyone else ok?” her voice trembled ever so slightly and tugged at his heart.

“Lydia’s good,” he responded softly.

She glanced up in surprise briefly. Her eyes were glassy, but relief washed over her face.

“Good. That’s good,” she responded with a shaky voice, turning to look at the kids.

“She’s havin’ second thoughts about stayin’ there, though.”

“She deserves some peace after… everything. It would be nice to have her here.” 

Hearing her perfectly echo his thoughts about Lydia made him miss her so damn much, even though she was right in front of him. His eyes lingered on her as he noticed the beads of sweat dotting the side of her face and the long silver lock of hair curling around her cheek. Daryl turned to follow her gaze again, and they watched the kids giggling away, with Dog – who had given up his quest for ice cream – now resting by Judith’s feet. 

“Maggie isn’t joining, is she?” Carol asked, breaking the silence. 

“Nah. She still don’t want anything to do with ‘em. Oceanside is standing with her.”

“I don’t blame her. After what she’s been through, I’d be cautious too. Besides, they can’t exactly be trusted.”

“You changin’ your mind?” he retorted, unable to keep the slight edge out of his tone.

His mind still stuck on her words at the fair – maybe we don’t need to do anything to make it work. Every time they tried to talk, somehow, their words poured salt over the gaping wound between them. And he didn’t know how to stop it.

She bristled, “Never said I trusted them, Daryl. I just hoped for the kids' sake that it would be different this time. But it never is, is it?" 

I hoped it’d be different, too, he wanted to say. Daryl looked back at the LPs and CDs, idly fiddling with them. 

Carol continued, "I’ve picked up a side job to find out what’s happening behind the scenes.” 

“What job?” He asked, feeling his heartbeat pick up. 

“I’m working with that guy Lance Hornsby. Trying to make some connections, and see if I can hear anything that helps us. See why they’re so interested in fixing our home, ya know?"  

Daryl nodded. At least there's still an "us", he thought.  

He wanted to respond, say something – Be safe. That Lance guy looks like a prick, don’t trust him. Stay with me... and the kids. Don’t go puttin’ yourself at risk for no reason. I miss you. Do you need my help? Tell me how to fix us. I’ll go with you. But the words swirled around his mind and lodged in his throat, struggling to escape. He randomly picked a CD case from the box and twirled it in his hands to hide the tremor in his fingers.

“How exactly are you planning on watching that?” The shift in her tone snapped him out of his thoughts. 

She eyed his hand, and he saw that he’d picked up a weathered case of ‘On Golden Pond’ somehow hidden in a stack of music CDs. 

“Hmpf.” His lips quirked up slightly. 

“Even if you had a way to watch it, I doubt Judith and RJ would sit through it,” she replied playfully. But his heart clenched a tiny bit when she didn’t include herself in the mix. 

“They might. It's a classic.” He snuck into a theater when he was about RJ’s age and watched the whole thing. 

“Sure,” she snickered.

He looked at her incredulously. “Hey, don’t knock it if you ain’t seen it.”

“Who says I haven’t?” she quirked her eyebrows. “Watched it with my grandma when I was a kid. It’s cheesy.” 

“You’re right. It ain’t no tabloid,” he deadpanned. He couldn’t help but smile at the stunned look on her face.

“I think if we could watch movies, it’d be nice to watch something newer. Not something as ancient as ‘On Golden Pond,’” she teased.

Still smiling, he shook his head. “If they figure out how to play movies here one day, I’m gonna show you why you’re wrong.”

“If that ever happens, and you make me watch ‘On Golden Pond’, then you're not allowed to pick the movie ever again.” She turned to face him with a smile on her face. “AND I’ll find the trashiest tabloid and make you read it.”

“And if you like it?” he challenged, turning to face her.

“A scoop of ice cream.” 

“Pfft.” He rolled his eyes. 

She narrowed her eyes, still smiling, “Dinner then.”

It’s a date, he wanted to say, but the words fizzled in his throat when he noticed her smile – the crinkly-eyed Carol smile he missed so much. The one she only reserved for him. His eyes moved on their own as they washed over the map of freckles on her face, the faint pink tinting her cheeks, the mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes. He noticed that her lips didn’t look chapped anymore and that they had more colour to them. 

Daryl pried his eyes away from her as the proximity made him want to close the distance and pull her into his arms. Flop his head on her shoulder and breathe her in. Forget about their fight, the things left unsaid, and the gaping wound that pulsed and ached to be healed.  

“A’right,” he cleared his throat, looking down. 

“I should go. Early shift tomorrow – the side thing.” Carol stepped back and turned away. 

Daryl nodded. 

Some things can’t be fixed ya know? Feels kinda pointless sometimes. When do you know? When it’s time to walk away. 

Lydia’s voice echoed from Hilltop in his mind as he helplessly watched Carol leave. Daryl rocked on his feet as the widening distance pulled him to follow, a million different things jumbling in his mind. The wound between them growing, burning, aching. I won’t stop you this time; the words barreled into him as Carol walked away.

“Carol!” Daryl called out.  

She turned around with a furrowed brow. 

“You got time for ice cream?” He pointed at the truck awkwardly. She hesitated. Daryl continued before his courage fizzled, “Don’t gotta watch an ancient movie with me this time.”

The furrow in her brow softened, and an amused smile played across her face.

“Okay.”

They joined the kids and grabbed a table. Dog greeted him briefly and went to sit near Carol – flopping his head on her lap. Daryl forced himself to pry his eyes away when they lingered on her face for too long. They didn’t talk about anything important as they ate their ice cream, but he felt the wound between them heal just a bit. 

He could tell the coming days would be difficult for all of them. As more things about the Commonwealth came to light, and things pulled them in different directions – their future seemed darker and more uncertain. But one day, the fight would be over, and they would have time to heal.

I ain’t givin’ up on us, Daryl thought as she turned and gave him that Carol smile. Not ever.  

[ivykhoozx]

Creative Nonfiction

People fade, feelings stay, memories haunt...

Have you ever cried so bad, longed to scream at the top of your lungs wishing someone would hear you? You experience extreme exhaustion and a sense of inner death.  So vulnerable, so lost… You want to speak or rant to someone about it but it’s deep into the night and you don’t know whom you could turn to without burdening them. So, you just wish and wait in vain for someone to make the first move to message you instead… but it never does. You want to express yourself on social platforms but you hesitated because you’re scared that people might criticize you or think you lack attention.

You wish you could just chill out. Hoping you were one of those individuals who could choose not to give a damn and go to sleep. Sadly, you’re not. Your eyes begin to get puffy from all the sobbing yet your mind continues to race all night long. You could feel your heart breaks a little with every sigh you let out. You begin to reflect on life and overthink each and every thought that enters your head.

You eventually fall asleep when the daylight shines but when you get up you have to put on that smile and face the world again. This feeling stays, it doesn’t just go away. It leaves you feeling dead inside. It’s amusing to think that someone else may be feeling the same way as you do and going through something similar. Yet we are all on our own in this.

A gazillion unanswered questions are running through your head but one particular keep coming up: “When would he/she ever return by my side?” You simply keep trying various tactics to get them back. You seek help from your friends and mutual friends you both had but you tend to pay attention to the ones that assure you and overlook the true guidance. You are at your wit’s end and therefore desperately want them back. It seems as though everything in your universe has crumbled.

You start stalking his/her followers on Instagram whom you think they might actually move on with. They claim that they just need some alone time but you see them hanging out with new people despite their assurances that they don't want you to move on. You begin to wonder if it's time to move on since everything that once seemed right now doesn’t anymore. It seems that no matter what you do, nothing seems to change.

I was clinging to something that never existed. I persisted, struggled, and most importantly, gave it my all, but for what precisely was I putting in such effort? I held myself responsible for all of the problems. When something doesn’t go as planned, I tend to question myself about what went wrong and what I could have done differently. Every day and night, I kept having conflicts with the thoughts and voices in my head.

I have always told myself to hang on because of those few reasons even though there are probably a zillion more reasons why I should leave even if I have never wanted to. I have always been the type of person who would fix something when they are broken instead of throwing them away or replacing them with a new one.

I hung on despite the pain. I believed it was worthwhile and that if I persisted, everything will be just fine. I doubt I will ever be able to forget the moment I realized that there was nothing I could do to make you go head over heels for me again. Even after all the pain you put me through, I still couldn’t hate or stop loving you. I’m so afraid I won’t be able to find someone else like you, I’m so afraid that I may never find the same feeling you once gave me again, instances like these eat me alive.

You took my feelings for granted even though you are aware of my feelings for you but you still lead me on without any intention to get me back. You took advantage of me because you knew I was always there. I was foolish to even believe for one second that I could have changed you.

Deep down, a part of me secretly wishes you to go through hell and suffer the same way I did but my heart can’t put up with it having to watch you go through it all. Love is something that comes naturally, it can’t be forced. Eventually, when you love someone with your whole heart, you would love them more than you could ever love yourself. Hence, I guess that is why I would rather be the one who is suffering rather than watch him hurt.

At the end of the day, being an adult has taught me to deal with it because love is not going to be as uncomplicated as two people living happily ever after. Relationship goals only exist in fairy tales and those don’t exist. We anticipate our love lives to be filled with unicorns and rainbows. Let’s get real here, this will never be the case. Love doesn’t need to be perfect; it just needs to be true. Absence isn’t love. You are experiencing the pain of losing someone who had once given their everything to you.

Love is about give-and-take. It makes us weak but it also makes us strong at the same time. Is it simpler to walk away than to fight for what you really want, is it better to hurt than to be hurt? Nevertheless, what is love without tragedy? I think that one can only truly experience happiness after going through genuine hardship.

 If someone loves and cares about you, their actions will prove it to you. If they truly love you, they will never wish for you to experience any kind of distress, let alone harm you. Those who are sincere about staying will search for justifications, not reasons.

[lubdubsworld]

The Devil’s own.

Jungkook x OC

Mafia Au!

Warnings : Non-Con ! Manipulation, Degradation, Shitty hero with no redeeming Qualities you have been warned. ( i mean he does get better but not much.)

Summary : Just Mob Boss Jungkook doing mob boss things.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there , staring at the ceiling and trying to come to terms with what had just happened. It was revolting. It was nauseating. It made me want to claw my own skin off. I stared at the intricate designs , carved into the ceiling, the panels that reflected life and made the room seem bigger than it was. The scent of jasmine and rosemary clung to the sheets and the drapes in the room, cloyingly sweet and meant to arouse the occupants.

I wondered how I’d got here.

I had memories of satin silk sheets and bright lights. My father had always spoiled me, the best of the best only for his only daughter and I’d indulged in luxury to my heart’s content. More shoes than I could possibly wear in a life time. Every season’s collection, straight into my wardrobe whether I asked for it or not. Diamonds and rubies and emeralds set in platinum and gold , jewelry to match my clothes and even my car if I felt like it.

I shut my eyes in despair. I didn’t miss the luxury as much as I missed the solitude. The option to just not do anything. My father hadn’t cared enough to see what I was upto and everyone knew that I was betrothed to Jungkook.

And that meant no dates or party invites because after the third guy got his arm in a sling after accidentally brushing past me , word kind of spread.  Stay away from Elena Gong or the Jeon kid will break your bones.

I shuddered. It had been an obsession, I thought vacantly.

Jungkook had been obsessed, even back then. I just hadn’t paid much heed to him. Because Jungkook back then had been terrifying but also ridiculously endearing in some way. He had seemed for lack of a better word…..insignificant. I was beautiful and rich, never lacked for attention and he was just one among the dozens. Even if I was betrothed to him, I hadn’t given much thought to him.

And Jungkook had taken my indifference in stride. He’d laughed and played around and I hated to admit it, treated me like a queen. Flowers, chocolates and gifts every other day . He would follow me around like a puppy , and I wondered if perhaps my dismissive attitude towards him back then had been a mistake. Did it push him over the edge?

My heart ached fiercely and when I finally willed myself to move, my body protested.

Every inch of me was sore and aching. My head because of how hard he’d gripped my hair. I sat up on shaky legs, fingers trembling as I pulled my shit up to stare at my body. Bite marks littered my skin, marring the smooth surface and I felt bile in my throat at the memory of his teeth on me.  Finger shaped bruises were beginning to bloom around my thighs and I couldn’t breathe over the agony ripping up my insides.

I glanced down between my thighs, at the sticky mess of his release dripping down into the sheets, staining the sheets a murky pink. I shuddered, disgusted. God, I hated him. Where was my phone? My clothes were still there at the foot of the bed and I noticed the small door on the right wall. Crawling off the bed on shaky legs , I limped carefully to the bathroom.

I took Hoseok’s shirt off dropping it in the corner before turning the showers on.

The water felt like a whip on my skin as I sat on the tiled bathroom floor , a small washcloth gripped tight in my hand as I carefully cleaned myself up. I had no idea what the time was… It must be very early or very late. No matter. I had to get out of here and get to Jisoo. I swallowed, imagining her alone all this time. The doctors had said she would be up in Guilt churned as I quickly grabbed a towel from the closet and wiped myself down.

It took me another ten minutes to finish dressing up and just as I finished slipping into my shoes, the door opened.  I glanced up, catching sight of Hoseok as he leaned against the door. He looked a little haggard, a black silk shirt unbuttoned to his chest and tucked into fitted jeans. I stared at him, watching the way his gaze roved over every inch of exposed skin, looking just a tad bit worried.

“The Hospital called. “ He said gently, “ They’re ready to release you sister. They want to know if you can come pick her up. The baby’s going to have to stay in the NICU for a couple of weeks.”

I groaned. Great. More bills.

“I need a job. “ I said miserably. “ Help me out.” I stared at him beseechingly and Hoseok gave me a look.

“you know the kind of jobs I provide. You’re not built for it. “ He said shortly and I shook my head, impatient.

“that’s not what I meant and you know it. You and your friends pretty much own every club in the city. Get me a job ….” I whispered, moving to stand in front of him and he recoiled.

Just as always, I thought bitterly. Coward.

As much as a coward now as he’d been ten years ago, when he’d pretended that he didn’t have any feelings for me. Pretended that he didn’t give a damn about me.

The throb in my skull grew in intensity.

My throat was dry and I felt my vision swim a bit. I was tired. Exhausted . I hadn’t slept in….how long really? I hadn’t eaten in a day…for sure… And I likely wasn’t going to be eating for a long while, let alone feeding Jisoo if I didn’t get a job right away. I had twelve thousand won to my name and that was it.

“Jungkook-“ He began but I was sick of his name so I growled.

“Fuck, do you want me to beg Hoseok? I will… I can’t … I need a job… Please.” I said desperately, staring at him and his gaze softened.

“Elena, stop looking at me like that, fuck.” He swore, turning and punching the wall hard. “ fuck.”

“Just help me get a job. I’m not asking you to give me money or something.  You don’t even have to get it for me… Just tell me who’s hiring ? Somewhere away from Jungkook and his men.” I whispered , and the sheer irony of it didn’t escape me. Jung Hoseok was possibly one of Jungkook’s main men.

He ran his hand over his forehead, shaking his head.

“You’re going to get me killed someday.” He muttered, “ Fine. There’s a club down in Itaewon. It caters to cops and lawyers exclusively so Jungkook and his men usually keep out of it. My friend owns the place. His name is Im Jaebum.  I’ll get you a job there , waitressing. Is that alright?” He said softly and I wanted to sob in relief as I nodded. Itaewon meant pretty close to where the bakery was. I could take the bus.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him and call you. Here…” He held out a wad of cash and I took it greedily, eyes widening at the 100,000 written on the margin of each note. This was a lot of money.

“Hoseok…”I said stunned and he shrugged. “ Get food and baby stuff for Jisoo. If she’s going to feed the baby she needs to eat well. Fruits and veggies and lot of protein. If you run out, tell Jaebum you need some advance. He’ll pay you well.”

I nodded, stuffing the money into my pockets quickly . I swallowed when my insides throbbed, aching something fierce.

“Thank you.” I said softly, staring up at him and he hesitated, before reaching out and gently cupping my face in his palm. I flinched at his touch and he recoiled.

“Was he… Did he hurt you?” He whispered quietly and I smiled bitterly.

“Wasn’t that the whole point?” I sighed, shaking my head . I hesitated . I wasn’t sure if Hoseok would listen to me but I had to try at least.

“ Can you not tell him? That… That I was a virgin?” I asked quietly and he nodded.

“Wasn’t planning to.” He said casually.

I stared at him. I’d always found him handsome. Beautiful. Perfect . And I wondered where we had gone so wrong.

“Do you regret it.” I whispered. “ All those choices you made.”

“Which ones? …” he asked bitterly.

“you know… “ I snapped. “ the ones that lead us here. You and me…. Standing here like strangers. “

“I wouldn’t risk my life for a stranger. Which is what I’m doing every time I help you .” He said quietly.

“So what are we then?” I demanded.

“Old friends” He said casually.

I snorted.

“Fucking coward.” I whispered , loud enough for him to hear as I brushed past him and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I trudged all the way to the VIP room in the hospital flinching because that was probably a lot of money to be repaid , now owed directly to the devil spawn that was Jeon. I had grabbed a small meal on the way before quickly getting the bus to the Hospital. It was little past eleven in the morning and the hallways were packed with people. Sighing, I moved to the room where Jisoo was, slowly opening the door.

Min Yoongi sat on the chair next to the bed, gazing idly at my sister in law.

To say that I was shocked would be the biggest understatement of the century. My lips parted in shock, panic bubbling up inside me as I exhaled sharply.

“What-“ I swallowed gazing between him and my Jisoo, who was sitting up against the backrest on the bed, a tray of food on her lap and a small smile on her face.

“Lena!! You’re here!” She cried out softly, tears filling her eyes at once as she held both her hands up. I moved to hug her but my mind stayed on the man near the bed, his sultry feline eyes trained unblinkingly on her. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to get my breathing to regulate but it was impossible.

What on earth was Yoongi doing here?

“Mr. Min came to see me. He told me he knew Daehwan.” Jisoo said softly, looking sad but hopeful and I felt my heart turn over as I turned to stare at him.

Min Yoongi knew Daehwan as a target . A hit he had carried out himself.

But I couldn’t say a thing. Not in front of Jisoo.

“I’m only here to offer my help. It pains me to see you suffering, Jisoo. I know your husband would want you to be taken care of.” He said softly, his gaze still fixed on her and I didn’t like it. At all.

Bile rising, I gave him a glare.

“I’ll take care of her. Please don’t trouble yourself.” I said shakily and he glanced at me, lips parting a bit, turning into a smirk.

“You look… well rested.” He smirked and I flushed.

“Lena, come on… I know all this…this must be expensive. We can use all the help we can get and Mr. Min-“

“Please call me Yoongi, sweetheart.” Yoongi said charmingly and my sister in law blushed. I felt my skin crawl.

“Y-Yoongi said he has a spare room. I can’t stay in the bakery.  And it’s not like he’s a murderer or anything. He showed me his card. He’s a lawyer.” She said softly and I sighed in despair. Jisoo was naïve bordering on stupid and I wasn’t equipped to deal with this.

As I watched she went back to the food, eating ravenously and I felt my heart clench. I could see the twin damp spots at her chest and I noticed the breast pump on the table. It looked brand new. I hadn’t even thought about things she may need after the baby, too preoccupied with all the hospital bills and medicines I would have to pay for.

Diapers. Baby wipes. Those little flannel pieces mothers used to wipe down the baby. I felt my head spin, turning to Yoongi who was staring at me casually.

“Can we talk?” I said quietly and he straightened.

“Jisoo ssi… Please enjoy your meal. And here…” He gave her his phone. “ If you’re done, just give me a buzz on this.” He showed her something on the phone .” Go on try it.”

Jisoo pressed down on the screen curiously and Yoongi’s watch rang .

He grinned as she smiled.

“See? One touch and I’ll be here yeah?” He said softly, and I felt like I was stuck in some kind of drama, glancing between the pair of them.

“Are you leaving?” She asked curiously and he shook his head.

“I’ll be right here, outside. Having a word with Elena. You can finish your food and I’m guessing it’s time for you to pump again? The pediatrician said you’d have to pump every two hours with the milk so… if you get it ready, I’ll drop it off at the NICU.” He said calmly.

Jisoo nodded, staring at him with wide eyed gratefulness and I sighed in despair.

Yoongi moved to the door and I gave her a small smile before following him.

I waited till the door had closed behind me before turning to him, furious.

“What do you think you’re-“

“I want her.” He said shortly.

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“No.” I hissed, furious and helpless with rage. “ Yoongi-“

“Don’t make me put a bullet in your head for this, Elena.” He said calmly and I exhaled shakily.

“She’s… You know she’s not like us. She doesn’t know anything about this life. As far as she knows my brother was a surgeon who got killed in a hit and run. You want to …. What do you really want? Did Jungkook put you upto this?”

“If Jungkook would have his way, your sister in law and your new nephew would both be dead. You know this.” Yoongi said casually. God, could I ever have a conversation with anyone without Jungkook being dragged into it? When did my life get twined so intimately with him?

“Where is he?” I asked quickly and Yoongi shrugged.

“He’s out of the country. He left an hour ago.”

“Switzerland….” I said before thinking and Yoongi stiffened.

“How did you know?” He demanded and I froze.

“I… I overheard …..someone.” I muttered and Yoongi moved so fast I barely caught it. The next second I was pressed up against the wall, his forearm pressing into my throat and holding me down while he held a knife right against my jugular.

“Nice try. Now the truth.” He hissed.

“Ouch..” I choked out , coughing  a bit. “ Fine.. Hoseok.. Hoseok told me.”

Yoongi pulled back.

“You fukcing him?” He asked casually and I glared at him.

“none of your business.” I snapped.

He laughed at that.

“I know you aren’t. Hoseok loves his dick too much to risk having it castrated.”

I sighed, shaking my head. I wasn’t here to talk about these bastards.

“Just leave Jisoo alone.” I said quietly and Yoongi sighed.

“What are you going to do with her, Elena. You can barely afford to feed yourself. You should be thankful I’m taking her off your hands.”

I ignored his nonsense and moved till I was pressed up against him, fingers curling into his chest. Yoongi looked surprised, lips twisting in displeasure when I blinked up at him.

“please.. Yoongi…” I begged, “ Don’t do this to me.” I said quietly. “ I … she’s all I have… She… My brother had nothing to do with any of this. You know that….He left this life decades ago. I don’t… I don’t know why Jungkook wanted him dead in the first place. I loved my brother and my brother loved his wife. I owe it to him … Please…just…Please leave her alone.” I whispered softly, letting my fingers drop to grip his arm.  

He tugged his arm away at once.

“ She needs more than empty platitudes and good intentions. She needs food and a place to stay with her baby. I’m giving her that.”

“And what do you get in return?” I demanded angrily. “ She just gave birth, fuck you. You can’t touch her , not unless you’ve lost the last shreds of humanity in that conscience of yours.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not doing this for sex, Elena. If I wanted easy pussy, I would have come to you…” He smirked.  “ Don’t forget that Jungkook and I share our toys, yeah?”

I opened my mouth to retort before remembering that I was trying to get him to listen to him.

“Then why? What do you want…tell me?”

“I told you. I want her. As she is.” Yoongi shrugged.

“You killed her husband.” I said , voice shaking as I remembered what Jungkook had said. About my brother begging for his life because Jisoo was pregnant. And how Yoongi hadn’t given a shit and shot him anyway.

“A minor inconvenience. Trust me if I’d seen her before I killed him…” He sighed, shaking his head in regret and I frowned.

“You would have spared him? “ I asked bitterly and Yoongi laughed.

“No.. I would have killed him sooner.” He smirked. “ Is there a point to this whole conversation… I’m getting bored and Jisoo’s waiting inside.”

“We’re supposed to get her out of the hospital today and-“

“I’m taking her home.” He said briskly. “ I’ve already spoken to her. And She’s agreed that a ramshackle , dilapidated bakery isn’t the right place for a new mother and a tiny baby.”

And the worst part was that I couldn’t even disagree.

And I couldn’t help but feel angry, betrayed. Jisoo was…. How could she? She hadn’t even bothered to talk to me about it… Just agreeing to move in with Yoongi. She was older than me. Supposed to be the smart one. My body ached. If that was the bed she was going to make , she could lie on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Going somewhere?” Jungkook’s voice made me freeze.

I swallowed, straightening and stepping back almost instinctively. He stood in the doorway, a cigarette held between his teeth as he stared at me . He looked like he’d showered as well, hair still damp and the smells of citrus and mint permeating the air around him.

It was exactly ten days since I’d last seen him and I’d settled into a routine of sorts. Im Jaebum’s bar, Venom was an exclusive club in Itaewon and I could easily disappear into the shadows, staying low and using the beret ( a part of the uniform ) to keep my face hidden as I served the patrons. Like Hoseok had said, the place was filled with cops and lawyers. Yoongi was a frequent fixture here , stopping for just a drink on most days before heading home to my sister in law.

It made me sick but there was nothing I could do about it. Jisoo and little baby Yunsu were both home and needed a l,ot of care. And Yoongi apparently had a cook, a housekeeper and a nanny who helped her out. Jisoo was wary, her senses finally returning but she was also clearly glad to be out of the streets.

“I’m going home after I finish my shift. “ I said softly, trying not to stare as he stepped into the room. I turned away from him moving to the shelves and pushing the small canister in place.

“Where’s home?” He asked casually. I flinched when he stepped right behind me, fingers reaching out to curl on my shoulder, pulling me back till I was flush against his chest. The heat of his body seeped in through the thin fabric of my blouse and I felt my body heat up.

“You got what you wanted.” I said shakily. “ Let me go.” I whispered, dropping the cleaning cloth in the tray on the lower shelves, before moving to grab the mop. I just had to finish mopping the floor . And then I could leave.

But his grip on me stayed firm. I couldn’t move. Foreboding rose inside me.

Jungkook hummed at that, stepping closer, till I felt his chin brush the top of my head as he bent over me, arms coming around me  and fingers lightly unbuttoning the first two buttons of my  shirt. I stared at the dark ink on his forearm. , swallowing as he kept coming closer.

“What I wanted? That pathetic little display ten days ago?”  He whispered softly “ Just think about this Elena ……  I’ve been chasing you for years, I got rid of your entire family and yet I let you live. Why do you think that was, huh? “ He shook his head, “ For two minutes of you lying underneath me like a frigid bitch? You think that’s what I want Elena? Think I’ll be satisfied with that? ” He laughed.

I stared at the wall in front of me  and I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t play this sick game with him. Not when he kept changing the rules . Not when there was nothing left for me to gamble or lose.

“Jisoo. I have to go see her. Just… Just let me go see her. I need to see if she’s alright and then we can talk. ” I whispered. Jungkook smiled, tilting my  head to the side with his fingers. I felt the damp press of his lips against my jaw and my skin crawled.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi’s taking care of her.” He whispered softly and I felt my heart turn over in my chest at the reminder. I’d been forced to relent because Yoongi had taken her home to a fully finished and decorated nursery , a closet full of baby clothes for her son and nursing clothes for her. She had been bowled over and when I’d told her to think about the why of it…she’d given me a helpless sort of smile. . As far as she was concerned , Yoongi had been nothing but generous and kind… And she wasn’t going to say no to him because she couldn’t afford to..

“I… he promised me he’d let me see her. And the baby…every day. That was the deal.”

Jungkook laughed.

“I thought I made this clear . You don’t get to make deals with anyone because you belong to me. I get to decide what happens to you. Anytime. Anywhere. Do you need another demonstration , Elena?” His hand moved to my breast, groping the flesh, fingers rough and hard and I whimpered in pain.

“No..” I choked out , eyes widening in terror and he made quick work of the rest of the buttons on my blouse. Junkook hummed, kissing the back of my neck and slowly turning me around in his arms.

“Relax. You don’t have a job. How are you going to feed her and the kid? Yoongi isn’t like me. He doesn’t hold a lot of grudges. And for some reason he seems to have a hard on for your sister in law. He wants to marry her. ” He chuckled and I felt nausea bloom.

“No.. Don’t… Don’t do that to her. She’s not like us. She doesn’t know… She doesn’t have anything to do with this life.” I begged, heart racing at the thought of Jisoo, helpless and scared and alone with a baby , trapped with a fucking assassin. Yoongi killed for a living . That was his job. Jisoo was delicate and sensitive.

“She still needs to eat and live right? With what?  He’s feeling particularly generous so he’s taken her home . You don’t have to worry about them anymore… Isn’t that nice?” he smirked and I felt my throat go dry.

I clenched my fists, feeling my breath catch.

“The only person you need to worry about yourself is yourself. Isn’t that how you prefer it anyway? Beautiful selfish Elena who never gave a fuck about anyone but herself. Isn’t that who you truly are, angel?” He smiled.

“Not anyone…. Just you… I don’t give a fuck about you.” I said defiantly, staring right up at him.  

Jungkook stared at me and stepped closer, reaching out and running his fingers up and down my cheek. I flinched because he still held the lit cigarette.

“None at all?”  He asked curiously, lightly tapping on the end of the cigarette, and I flinched when the hot ash spilled onto my shoulder.

“Did that hurt, baby?” He whispered, leaning in and pressing the cigarette to my lips.” I’m sorry. Breathe in for me.” He stuck the cigarette into my mouth and I pulled away , coughing and disgusted.

I closed my eyes as his free hand went to my wrist, tugging me closer. I stiffened as he wrapped his arms around me, drawing me in till my face pressed against his chest, his body flush against mine, one hand moving back to stroke my back.

“I missed you. You’re terrible at pleasing me but I think…with a little bit of training, you can make me cum… ” He smirked. “ Let’s start with a blowjob, yeah?”

I stiffened.

“No.” I said softly and he smirked, pulling back.

“No?” He asked softly. . I felt my throat go dry in fear as I noticed the way his gaze shifted.   I bit my lips to stifle the pain as He carefully pressed the lit end of the cigarette right against the curve of my breast , pressing in for a couple of seconds and pulling away just before the skin began to singe. He glanced up at me, and I blinked through the tears, pain spreading all over my chest at the burn. That would leave a scar, I thought miserably.

“Wrong answer. Try again.” He whispered.

“Go to Hell.” I choked out.

I flinched when his fingers slipped up into my hair, gripping hard. My scalp burned, sharp and insistent and instinct made me grip his wrist, trying to get him off but it was impossible.

“Let me go..” I snapped, glaring at him. God, How I hated him.

“Was I your first??” He whispered, dragging me close enough that his lips brushed my ear. “ Never had a cock before? Was that why you were so fucking tight?”

I bit my lips, glaring at him, defiant and furious. Did Hoseok actually tell him? That two faced snake…. God , why did these fuckers never leave me alone?

“Seokjin hyung told me…Told me he was looking forward to breaking a virgin and that made me think….God, I was the first cock she ever had….” He hummed, looking infinitely pleased.

“Yes. And I got to say… I don’t know what the fuss is about. You couldn’t even make me cum.” I snapped and Jungkook grinned, grip tightening and the other hand moving to curl around my waist, squeezing hard.

“Did I make you bleed from between your legs Elena? Tell me I did….Cause that’s fucking hot. ” He whispered, voice low and gruff.

Jungkook, I thought vacantly, was a psychopath.

“Go to Lisa. Go fuck her and make her bleed if that’s what gets you off….  and leave me alone.” I whispered and he smiled, bending down pressing a kiss right where he’d burned my skin.

“I don’t need you to tell me that. She’s my fiancé. The woman I’m going to marry. And you know what that means? I actually give a shit whether she cums or not. And trust me she does. Multiple times. Sometimes so hard she passes out.”

“Or maybe she fakes it. Maybe she passes out because she can’t stand your touch either.” I shrugged. “ Because we all know that’s what she’s good at Jungkook. She faked her friendship with me , she’ll fake her loyalty to you.”

“Always got something smart to say, huh Elena? Let’s see how mouthy you get when I’m shoving my cock down your throat.”

I flinched when he pushed me, hard enough to send me sprawling on the floor. I caught myself with difficulty , throwing my hands out to keep my head from hitting the floor. I flinched at the pain that shot up my body, every inch throbbing because of how rough this fucker had been with me.

Ten days and the aftermath of that night still lingered on me.

And it was three in the morning  and I’d spent eight hours on my feet bussing tables , I was exhausted.

I closed my eyes, before pressing my palm against the floor, trying to pull myself up when I felt the press of his shoe at the base of my spine, pushing me down.

I whimpered in shock, my hands giving out and shoulder crashing down into the floor.

“Stay down for a second, baby.” He whispered and I exhaled.

I pressed my palm against the floor, head dropping on to the carpeted floor . I whimpered when I felt him crouch down, foot digging in harder into my back and I curled my fingers into the carpet to swallow the pained sound that bubbled up in my throat.

“I’m going to fuck you again. And this time I want you to do all the work.” Jungkook’s voice came from over me and I flinched. I considered the odds of me putting up a fight and actually winning. It was laughable. I wasn’t going to fight a force of nature. And that was what Jeon Jungkook was.

“ You can’t make me do anything Jungkook.” I whispered finally. “ You can hit me and rape me and kill me but you can’t make me do anything to you. You just have to live with that.”

His foot lifted off my spine and I felt hands on my arms, pulling me up till I was kneeling. I watched as he moved around to stand in front of me.

“Look at me.” He said carefully.” From now you only speak when I tell you to.”

“ Whatever.  Let’s get this over with so I can go see my sister and my nephew.“ I said shakily.

He sighed deeply at that, shaking his head.

“See, if it was upto me, I’d just put a bullet in both their heads. Cos at this point they’re just proving to be a nuisance.”

My blood turned to ice in my veins.

“ But,  Yoongi’s just getting to know your pretty little Jisoo…And he’s my favorite hyung. So I’m going to let her live. But, let’s not invade their privacy for a while.” He began unbuckling his belt and I felt nausea rise inside me.

“Jungkook?” The voice came from the door and I stiffened.  Jungkook groaned.

“Baby, what the fuck are you doing here?” He said gruffly, standing up and using his knee to push me out of the way roughly. I swore, gripping the edge of the table near me to steady myself before turning around to stare at the woman at the door.  I stumbled to my feet, still feeling a little out of it. I needed food. Before I collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“You were supposed to come see me tonight. I went looking for you everywhere and I find you here about to get with some common whore?”  she shouted and I stiffened, glaring at her.

She stood framed in the doorway, staring at me for a second before letting her gaze wander all over the room. She stared at me, eyes taking in the unbuttoned blouse and I quickly moved to put the buttons back on.

“Did you fuck her?” She demanded angrily and Jungkook hummed.

“Since when did I owe you answers, angel?” He asked casually and I watched the woman’s eyes widen, before her brows furrowed in a frown.

“ So what, I can’t ask you who you’re with ?” She asked angrily and Jungkook groaned , kicking out at the nearest stand with enough force to send it toppling over the side, crashing to floor and breaking on impact. I stumbled, back, wrapping my arms around myself as he fairly growled.

“What the fuck is up with all you cunts today?” He demanded, glancing at me in distaste. “ I come back after busting my ass at work for ten entire days . I just needed to get my dick sucked and you two.” He shook his head, hand reaching into his jacket and I felt my eyes widen when he pulled his glock out, releasing the safety and loading the gun before pressing the muzzle right against her skull.

The woman whimpered, hands held up as he tapped the firearm against her.

“You. You don’t come anywhere near me unless I send for you. Is that clear?” He asked sharply and she nodded frantically, abject terror written all over her face.

He turned to me.

“And you. You’re coming with me.” He said quietly and I felt my eyes widen. I opened my mouth to protest but the girl at the door beat me to it.

“I think not…. You’re not taking her anywhere, Jungkook, I’ll-“ She began, reaching forward to grab him and Jungkook moved so quickly, I could barely blink.

The shot rang out , making me jump and I watched as she crumbled to the floor, crying out in pain. I stared in horror, watching the hole in her arm, spilling blood all over the floor and the hallway and my throat went completely dry,  staring at the girl on the floor and the blank, absolutely merciless look on his face.

“Just because I let you sit on my cock once in a while, doesn’t mean you get a say in how I live my life.” He said quietly, using his foot to prod her hip. He glanced at me and I felt my throat go dry as he pulled the glock back to reload it.

He aimed the gun right at me, eyes dark and heavy.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby? Or do you need a physical demonstration as well?” He tilted his head to where the girl was on the floor, pressing her palm against her arm.

“She’s  bleeding out.. “ I choked out. “ you need to get her help, Jungk-“

Another shot rang out and I jumped, heart in my throat as I tried to understand what had happened. It took me a second to realize that he hadn’t shot me. That he had fired at the ceiling.

“Answer the bloody question Elena.” He growled and I flinched, nodding.

“I… I’ll listen… Just…” I glanced back at the poor girl on the floor.” Get her some help.”

Jungkook smiled a little. He turned to the girl on the floor and shook his head.

“Get up baby. Go find Hoseok and get that patched up, yeah? And don’t provoke me the next time, yeah? ” He said casually and she stumbled to her feet, looking disoriented and scared as she moved out of the door.

“ And you. “ He glared at me. “Finish dressing up and follow me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are we going?” I asked nervously, fighting the instinct to just take off at a sprint, as we walked down the road to where his Mercedes was parked.

“My home. Where else?” He said casually and I stiffened.

“Jungkook-“

“Didn’t I tell you not to speak unless I ask you to, Elena? I’m jet lagged and angry. Trust me , you don’t want to piss me off now.” He said casually and I swallowed.

He opened the door for me, the polite gesture so at odds with what he was doing that my head began to throb.

But I climbed in nonetheless. I stayed quiet for the short ride to his apartment , eyes fixed straight ahead and Jungkook was quiet too. I was too exhausted to be scared, I thought despondently, my eyes drooping because of how long I’d been up. Glancing out the window, I watched the cars whizz by, people living their lives, completely unaware that almost all of them were merely tiny little gears in a machine run exclusively by men like Jungkook. That all their lives, spent working and earning and dying…it was all meaningless. They had no say in anything. People like Jungkook were the ones who got to shape the world to their liking. The ones who got to play God.

And Jungkook was definitely the closest to an omnipotent human I’d ever come across.

Powerful, untouchable and terrifying.

So perhaps, it was a little flattering, that I was the one thing he couldn’t get out of his head.

I glanced at him discreetly.

He was beautiful, I thought with a pang. One of the most beautiful men on this planet. Despite the years, his boyish charm was still right there on his face and he could slip on a plaid shirt , a white t shirt and stone wash jeans and pass off as an innocent college student. I stared at the taut jaw, the long column of his neck and the broad back. His biceps bulged when he gripped the steering when and my eyes lingered on the long fingers curled around the wheel.

I jumped when his hand moved to grip the stick shift , curling on the knob and yanking it back with force. I swallowed, thighs pressing together as my mind shifted to that night in Hoseok’s club. I hated myself for how often I relived it. And not always with disgust.

My fingers fell on the ring on his finger. His engagement ring, I thought with a pang. Lisa. Beautiful, wonderful Lisa who had been a dear friend . Once. For all her shortcomings I knew she loved the man who sat next to me. Cared deeply for him, even. Why else would she do this to me? She must have strong feelings for him , if  it had prompted her to throw away our friendship of over a decade.

“You’re cheating on her then.” I said quietly.  His reminder to not talk to him rang in my head but I couldn’t stop myself. He wasn’t a stranger. And that ring…the ring that promised to bind two people forever….. I’d worn it too. For him.

Jungkook didn’t reply, merely glancing at me in passing.

I sighed, looking at my knees, feeling my shoulders tremble a bit.

“Is she going to be there?” I asked quietly.

He exhaled sharply. I noticed the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“No.”  He said shortly.

“She lives with you right? You said we’re going home ….then where is she-“

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” He snapped and I swallowed. “ I’m not taking you home to my fiancée Elena, do I look like a fucking idiot? “ He shook his head.

Before I could demand more answers, he was pulling over into a side alley. I watched as he carefully parked the car before stepping out.  Second later, he was coming around and opening the door.

I stared at him, gripping the hem of my blouse, tight. My stomach twisted into knots.

“Can’t you just let me go?” I whispered softly, pride forgotten in the wake of my tiredness. Jungkook stared at me, face eerily blank.

“Get out of the car.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Like it?” He asked softly and I stood on the threshold, taking in the lavishly decorated apartment on the top floor of the building. I noticed the portrait right up front, a large full sized photo of me and Jungkook from nearly a decade ago, wrapped around each other in a hug , showing off our engagement bands.

“What is this?”

“It was supposed to be your wedding gift. From me. I bought it for you. Nine years ago. Thought you should see it.” He said quietly.

I stayed perfectly still , as he wrapped his hands around me in a hug.

“Why did you leave me, Elena?” He asked quietly and I felt my throat go dry.

“Why do you still have this place? Get rid of it.” I snapped. He laughed at that , pulling away and turning me around till I stared at him.

“ Will you stay here, with me?” He asked softly and I froze.

“You’re out of your mind.” I said shortly.

He hummed.

“Possibly. But then, the problem is this. If I tell you , you can’t leave this place ever again….There’s not much you can do about it, right?” He said thoughtfully and I felt a sob building in my chest.

“I… Don’t.” I said shakily.

“You should see the bedroom. Come.”

His fingers wrapped around my wrist dragging me past the lavish couch and sofa, past a well kept bar onto a wide hallway dimly lit. He stopped at the second door on the right, reaching out to open the lock.  The room was plunged in darkness and I hesitated.

“Go on… After you, Mrs. Jeon.” He said softly . I could feel distaste creeping up my spine at the name, shivering a bit as I stepped into the darkness.

“Can you imagine, if we’d gotten married. This is what our first night together would be like…” He pressed against my back, arms coming around me , so gentle that I shivered.

“Jungkook…what are you doing?” I asked shakily.

“Shush…. “ He whispered, moving to unbutton my blouse again. I grabbed his wrists quickly.

“We aren’t married. I’m not your wife.” I said sharply and I felt him go still behind me.

“Shut your mouth and play along like a good girl.” He said quietly. He shook my hands off, moving to undo the buttons again.

Not sure what he expected, I stayed perfectly still as he hummed, pressing soft feather light kisses down my jaw and past my shoulders. His hands stroked up and down my arm as he laughed .

“Did you miss me Elena…..all these years…” He said quietly. “ Because I missed you. So much.”

He hugged me close, tight and hard.

“Are you scared?” He whispered, “ honey?”

“Oh, God…” I choked out, nausea rising up in my throat at the endearment.

“My wife…” He whispered, pressing a few more kisses against my skin before pushing me a bit towards the bed. “ Should I turn on the lights? I wanna see you.”

He nudged me towards the bed and my legs gave out when I hit the edge of it, legs turning to jelly as I sat on it, shaky and creeped out and terrified. Jungkook moved to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, a soft golden glow lighting up the bed .

“Look at you… so beautiful.” He whispered and I watched as he tugged off his shirt, before moving to his belt. He was watching me like I was something precious. Like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“What are you doing?” I asked quietly and he smiled, running his fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest. He stopped at a large ornate tiger lily, inscribed right over his heart.

“Do you like it?” he said softly. “ I got this for you. My Elena…. As delicate as a lily and as brave as a tiger.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“Either fuck me or let me go, I’m not here to talk about-“

He slapped me, so hard that my head whipped to the side, my face feeling like it had caught fire. I gasped, the pain spreading all over my jaw and I couldn’t quite grasp what had just happened. I pressed shaky fingers to the throbbing skin near my mouth, eyes watering at the sting.

“Didn’t I tell you to play along, angel?” He whispered sharply and I closed my eyes , shuddering.

Play along. Do it if you want to get out of here alive. ‘

Fucking psychopath.

“ It’s beautiful, Jungkook.” I whispered softly, glancing at him with teary eyes. He nodded.

“We’ll get one for you too. A wolf. With the initials JK on it…. Right here…” He lightly traced a path over my collarbone and I hoped to God, this was some sick fantasy. That he wasn’t seriously considering tattooing his initials on me.

“Strip for me baby… All of it. I want to see you.” He whispered and I hesitated just long enough to take a deep breath. I reached back, quickly undoing my bra clasp and pulling the fabric off.  I hooked my thumbs into my skirt and my panties, tugging both of them off me, swiftly. I dropped all of it on the floor next to the bed, before moving to kneel in the middle of the bed, staring at him with a smile that felt physically painful.

“I’m going to make you feel good, baby.” He whispered quietly, crawling over on top of me.

“Lay down for me.” He said, and I felt repulsed, as he kissed my lips, soft and gentle, pressing in till I was flat on my back, legs parted so he could lie in between.

It was so different from last time and somehow ten times worse.

Jungkook pressed kisses all over my face, whispering gentle words against my skin that felt like acid.

“So beautiful…. Mine. You were always mine Elena. Mine to touch and mine to break . Mine to love and mine to fuck.”

I stared as he loomed over, his face inches from mine, his gaze deceptively affectionate, his eyes warm and almost soft. I watched as he came closer, his lips closing over mine. Instinctively I kept my lips together but his fingers curled around my thigh, squeezing hard enough to make me whimper, lips parting . He pressed his tongue in then , licking into my mouth and I brought my hands up, instinctively wrapping around the bare skin of his shoulders and my body thrummed at the feeling of his muscles under my fingers.

Curiosity made me foolish, and I found myself tracing the hills and valleys of his skin, fascinated by the way the muscles flexed, every time he moved his arm.

“You like that? I worked hard on those…” He chuckled, watching me curl my fingers around his biceps. He was so… big. I moved my fingers up to the hardness of his chest, splaying my palm on his pecs and my fingers caught a hard little scar, almost perfectly round and deep.

“What is this…” I asked , curious my finger dipping into the healed skin and he hummed.

“Your father . He shot me when I was chasing his car down in Jeju Do. Foolish bastard. Thought he could outrun me.” He laughed .

I glanced at him, catching his eyes and the ebbing laughter , my heart twisting.

“Then why am I here? You hate my father. You killed my entire family. So why am I here, Jungkook?”  I asked foolishly, my heart breaking a bit and he hesitated.

“Because you’re mine.” He said simply.

I closed my eyes in despair.

“If this was our wedding night…. What would you say…?” He asked suddenly.

I stared at him, confused.

“What?”

“If we got married back then… When you were eighteen. And it was our first night together….. what would you say?”

I sighed.

“I’d ask you to ….to be gentle.” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Tell me , then.”

I stared at him, feeling helpless.

“Go on, Elena.” He said again.

“Jungkook…” I began but he shook his head.

“Ggukkie.” He said softly. “ Call me GGukkie… That’s what you used to call me …when we were young.”

I clenched my fists, on his chest, resisting the urge to push him off. That wouldn’t end well for me.

“GGukkie…” I whispered, finally, glancing up at him, licking my lips and parting them gently, eyes as wide as they could go, “ you know its my first time right?”

Jungkook’s eyes fairly danced at that and he hummed, leaning closer.

“Is it, baby?” He asked, reaching up to brush my hair away, fingers gentle on my face.

Get into it. Get into it and get it over with.

“You know it is…” I pouted, “ No one else can touch me. I’m yours , aren’t I GGukkie…”

He laughed, rubbing his nose against mine.

“That you are, kitten.”

Kitten? That’s a new one.

Shut up and stay in character , fuck.

I was so fucking screwed.

“ So… will you be gentle?” I whispered , “ I don’t want it to hurt.”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around me rolling over and taking me with him till I was lying flat on top of him.

“Then how about this angel? You can ride me…. As slow and gentle as you like. Make yourself feel good on my cock, yeah….?”

I stared at him.

I’m gonna fuck you and you’re going to do all the work.

He’d played me like a fiddle.

“Well baby? Go on…. Take my pants off.”

I exhaled angrily, before moving down, to tug on his pants. He helped me take them off kicking off his boxer briefs as well.

That’s a beautiful dick. Objectively. Very pretty.

Shut the fuck up.

“ Get it wet for me baby….” He said softly. I glanced down at the hard length of it, jutting out of the small thatch of hair and felt my mouth go dry . Which would be counterproductive if I wanted to get it wet. So I swirled my tongue around my mouth, trying to get my mouth moist, before leaning down and carefully wrapping my lips around the head.

Fuck, he tastes good.

I shook my head a bit to clear the voice in my head, glancing up at him with my lips stretched around the soft pink head and he was looking right back at me, eyes heavy and dark .

“Go on baby, take more of it in, use your tongue…make me feel good.”

I closed my eyes, letting the spit coat the hard length of his cock, sinking down till the tip began to inch down my throat. I sucked lightly, running my tongues back and forth on whatever skin I could touch and it was like sucking a lollipop except the lollipop was thick enough to stretch my mouth wide and hit the back of my throat.

I felt his hand reach into my hair, gripping hard and I whimpered.

“Be gentle…” I whispered, pulling off and his eyebrows shot up , clearly in surprise . He stared at me for a second, as though considering my request and then his fingers loosened , threading through the strands soothingly.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whispered . I went back to sucking him off, somehow my natural tendency to work hard making me bob up and down, using my tongue and taking him as deep as I could. I felt a sick sort of satisfaction when he moaned in pleasure and for some damn reason I wanted to draw more sounds out of him.

This is a dream. Either that or you tripped over a pothole and fell into another dimension.

“ Are you wet ? Come here, so I can check….” Jungkook said softly and I pulled off moving up to straddle his hips. I flinched when he reached down, tracing my slit with carefully fingers before slipping in two. I tightened against the intrusion, still sore on the inside and he pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to my mouth.

“Suck…and get them nice and wet if you don’t want it to hurt.” He said quietly and I wrapped my lips around his fingers, letting my spit coat the slender digits.

When he pushed them back into me, the slide was easier , wetter and I gripped his shoulders, trying to relax around him. It felt foreign but also good… I felt good…

I stared down at him, the broad muscled body and the handsome face and for a crazy moment I imagine what it would have been, if I had married him. Would it have been this….this… weird pleasure that was somehow both painful and exhilarating at the same time. I bit my lips as he curled his fingers inside me, rubbing at some spot high up inside me that sent heat shooting straight up my spine, slick dripping out of me and onto the hard planes of his stomach like honey from a comb.

“Now sit on my cock.” He said quietly. I trembled, reaching down to lightly grip his cock, moving till the head lined up right against my slit or where I thought my slit was. Biting my lips, I lowered my body, feeling my body cleave to let him in, his cock pressing in and in and in.

My knees gave out and I slid down the length of him, the sudden, incredible fullness knocking the breath right out of me.

“ Fuck…baby….you alright?” He whispered and it messed with my head, the way he actually looked concerned and worried and I couldn’t take anymore of it.

“Please… Please… I just… I want to go home…” I whimpered, feeling full and stretched out, my thighs trembling and my insides wet and warm and somehow stuck between wanting more and wanting it to end.

Jungkook grunted, fingers curling over both my hips and lifting me lightly and with ease.

“Come on baby…. Ride me….” He whispered, “ Put your hands on my chest and roll your hips, up and down .”

I did as he said, one hand braced against his chest, the other gripping his shoulder as I tried to move on him but it was hopeless. I had no energy or inclination to do this and the pleasure was fast ebbing into frustration. Jungkook seemed to sense it because he growled.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking bad at this… Fine… Just lay there and let me use that stupid cunt of yours.” He snapped,  gripping my waist and folding his knees just enough to brace his feet on the bed. I gasped as I got lifted a bit , his cock slipping in impossibly deeper , the tip nudging close to my cervix , the lightest brush of it send sharp jolts of electric pain pleasure up my spine.

“Oh fuck,..” I breathed as he pistoned into me, hips hitting my ass with brutal force as he fucked up into me and I could only tremble, eyes fluttering shut, fingers going numb from how hard I was gripping him.

“You’re gonna cum today… I’m gonna make you cum on my cock…” He growled, reaching down and pressing his thumb against my clit, rubbing softly, slow circles that were almost gentle compared to the brutal pounding oh his hips and I felt my mouth go slack, wetness slipping out of my tongue and dripping down my chin because of how excruciatingly good it felt, having him so deep, pressing in against the edge of my womb and I and to press my palm, right up against my belly , stunned because of how my body seemed to open and shift to make room for him.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, right inside your womb, fuck…. Gonna carry my babies for me, right sweetheart? Gonna watch you get round and full with my seed , watch you drip milk all over me with those beautiful tits….fuck…”

The shock of his words sent me over the edge, my body clenching down on him as I came, my orgasm so strong that I felt like I was cramping up on the inside and I toppled forward onto him, landing on his chest and bouncing a bit. Jungkook grunted a little, wrapping both his arms around me, holding close as he fucked me right through the aftershocks, body stilling only when I stopped shuddering and I felt warm wetness spill inside me, so deep that I knew I would have to swallow three morning after pills after this, although I was on birth control.

Because one could never be too sure with these things.

Jungkook stayed still under me and it took me a few seconds to catch my breath. I finally levered myself off of him, legs shaking as I rolled over and onto the bed before breathing in huge lungfuls of air.

“Can I go?” I choked out.

Jungkook grunted. “ Get the fuck out of here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I stumbled out of the cab, exhausted and out of my mind with self loathing, I didn’t expect to see Hoseok sitting on the pavement outside the bakery, leaning against a streetlight, face warm but determined.

“Hobi?” I asked stunned. “ What are you-“

He cut me off with a kiss.

I stared wide eyed as he pulled me into an embrace, wrapping me in warmth and scent of his cologne, his hands impossibly gentle around me as he all but cradled me against his body, his lips moving gently against mine.

“Elena…” He breathed against my lips, eyes glinting . “ I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years. I’m so fucking sorry for being such a coward but you deserve to know… you deserve to know how I feel about you.”

I stared at him in disbelief, my heart pounding as I punched his chest in desperation.

“No… No fuck you… what are you doing…. He’ll kill you…” I hissed and he tightened his arms around me.

“I don’t care.” He hissed. “ I don’t… I can’t just… I can’t let him hurt you like this. I won’t. I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him to let you go or lose our friendship.” He said angrily and I trembled.  

My heart raced because Hoseok was the only one I’d ever loved. In every way a girl could love a boy. He was and had always been this confusing breed of brother and friend while everyone had drooled after Jeon Jungkook , I’d always been drawn to him…drawn to his quiet strength and to the way he had always treated me as an equal…

But… but Jungkook…. Jungkook who would put a bullet in his brain without a thought if he thought that Hoseok was trying to move in on something that belonged to him…..

“Hoseok…just… Don’t. I… I love you too…” I breathed out, tired and scared and so fucking worried because what if someone was listening even now..what if word got to Jungkook and he tried to hurt ….i couldn’t even think it.

“Come find me when Jungkook is busy . When he can’t find us…” I said softly, reaching out and pressing my palm against his face.

“I’m not scared of him.” Hoseok growled  and it was ridiculous.  

“But I’m scared of losing you. “ I said quickly. “ We can’t… He can’t know. Ever.”

Hoseok nodded before pulling me close again.

“Was he too rough?” He whispered and I blinked, flushing. I shook my head.

“No.. I. No. I think…”

“I hate that he was the one to touch you, first. You.. You deserve to know how good it can be…. How gentle.. I want to… fuck…” He shook his head pulling away and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“We can’t…” I said quietly. “ you know we can’t.”

He glanced at me, eyes blazing and lips parted and I groaned.

“Don’t look at me like that Hobi…” I whispered, shaking my head.

“Tomorrow. He’s going to Jeju Do , to inspect a new resort. He won’t be back till the day after. Call in sick at work.” He said quietly and I bit my lips, feeling a bit like a whole idiot.

I nodded.

He reached forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

No self preservation skills at all, I thought miserably.  

If Jungkook found out…….

Author’s Note : I’ll add the taglist here tomorrow

[rightsforbrunomadrigalonly]

Head canons of Bruno with a S/O who suffers from chronic illness.

{A/N: ✨⌛️Here I am, suffering at work yet again dreaming about Bruno being here at my side once more. I adore this man so much and I think about the non stop comfort and compassion he’d show his significant other. Of course I’m self projecting my misery into my work again, but what else is new here el oh el ✨⌛️}

{Word count: unknown I never keep track on head canons lol}

{Warnings 🚨: talk of chronic illness}

I want to start this off by saying, he knows his sister cannot fix chronic problems like the ones you suffer from, and he feels incredibly guilty about it.

It’s not like it’s something he can control, just like your sickness isn’t something you can control, but the idea of living with a healer who can’t help eats away at him.

He’d still ask Julieta to cook you something to alleviate your symptoms and pains. While her food can’t permanently rid your body of it’s suffering, her meals are like a little bandaid for the problem.

He’d be patient and tender towards your emotions when you feel so uncomfortable and irritable. Anything you need he’s so attentive and eager to help with.

Every time you’d whimper and groan, complaining reflexively, he’d just push your hair back from your face and kiss your forehead.

Bruno: “I know mi vida, I know. Try and get some rest, okay? We don’t have to leave the bed today if you’re feeling so miserable, we can just lay here all day. Oh! I could put on a performance for the latest chapter of Todos Mis Hijos Rata! It’ll be great, just what you need to feel better! See Erika just found out that her prima Vanessa has been sleeping with the father of her children, Juanito! Just stay right there get comfy, I’ll go get the rats!”

Every little bit of effort the man goes through to make you feel better, sends your heart flying. Plus his telenovelas are a great way to distract your brain from the pain.

I cannot stress this enough, but he is SO good at validating your feelings and pain. Even if it’s not something physical he can see, he always makes sure it’s clear that he knows you’re suffering.

You don’t have to overthink things around him. If you say that you feel sick, he’ll accept that answer and immediately work towards aiding your discomfort. He never once questions how you feel. It’s a relief not to have to over explain that you feel sick because you have a silent illness that doesn’t show.

On your bad days where you suffer from intense flair ups, he doesn’t leave your side. He’d do anything and everything humanly possible to make you feel better. He makes sure you stay hydrated and brings you food from Julieta every few hours. Even if you feel like you can’t eat he makes sure your body is holding the nutrients it needs.

Bruno: “here mi vida, Julieta made this for you. Try a bite, it may make you feel better….I know you feel sick to your stomach but hey, a little food may make you feel better. It’s just a bland arepa no queso. The dough should uh um…should absorb some of the extra acid in your stomach and uh make you feel a little better…that’s what my sister said at least, and I-I trust her. Eat up my vida.”

You can’t help the way your lips fight their way into a smile. While you most likely won’t eat a thing, you appreciate the efforts. For his sake you’d at least nibble the arepa throughout the day.

If you're suffering through a flair up and you've got important plans you cant cancel, he'll make sure to stay close in case you need him.

He's constantly covering for you to help ease any embarrassment you may feel about disappearing for long periods of time to alleviate yourself.

If somebody notices your gone, without hesitation he’d come up with an excuse, even if he is a terrible liar.

Antonio: “where’s Tia? We were just gonna start playing fetch with Pearce.”

Bruno: “O-oh, Tia had to u-uh take care of something really quick. How about I step in for a bit until she comes back? Sound good, kiddo?”

You feel so safe venting and sharing your problems with the man. He’s an amazing listener. He never interrupts and will let you ramble on for as long as you need.

He always says the sappiest cutest things at the end. Guaranteed to make you smile like an idiot.

Y/N *tearing up a bit*: “I feel bad whenever I have to bail out on your family, mi amor. What if they hate me for it? I just- I feel guilty. I wish I didn’t have to disappear all the time and I wish I could be there more. God it’s so embarrassing when I just have to get up and leave in the middle of a conversation because I’m in agony.”

Bruno: “Don’t feel guilty mi vida. I know you can’t control these things, it’s okay. Nobody’s perfect ya know? A-And at least you only disappear for like 10 minutes tops, I disappeared for 10 years and they still welcomed me back like nothing ever happened aha….I’m just saying mi vida, my familia is pretty understanding and if they aren’t? Well, I’ve learned that getting my family’s approval is something I can live without. If they don’t like you for something you can’t control, forget them. I-I don’t care what they have to say about you, and neither should you Y/N. Illness or not I think you’re perfect.”

Why is he just the perfect man!!

You could literally climb into his lap and cover his face FULL of kisses.

You do. Without hesitation. Flustering the man silly.

You’re absolutely blessed to have a partner so understanding and loving.

[notstilinski]

The Edge of Sleep Starters !

Taken from  the 2018 QCODE Media’ podcast, The Edge of Sleep! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit!

“July 8th. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and… Everyone is dead.”

“It’s more like the world went to sleep and never woke up.”

“You need someone to keep your bed warm? Give me your phone.”

“Except it’s better than a video game because you actually get laid.”

“Actually, no. That’s a lie. I’m a complete wreck… I miss you.”

“So, what’s the problem. We love each other, right? Right?”

“I can’t believe I even have to say this, but you know I would never hurt you, right?”

“Sorry, I like to play my tunes so loud I can’t hear myself think.”

“What kind of hospital is this? You want me to leave my friend’s body on the side of the road?”

“Well, you still look good so… Go to hell.”

“(Name), right now I just need you to shut up and fall in line.”

I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could see their faces. Every one of them looked afraid.”

“It’s not the same. They do the killing, we do the fixing.”

“The worst part is the fear in people's eyes. The look of terror when they know they’re going to die.”

“You know you’re really ugly when you cry? Why don’t you shut the fuck up?”

“I’m okay. I think I’m okay. I’m more scared than I am tired.”

“It’s hard to explain. It felt like deja vu mixed with a panic attack.”

“Scientists and medical practicers love a good enigma. It’s fun for them. It’s just not that fun when /you’re/ the enigma. And that’s what I was.”

“We don’t need empathy. We need help.”

“Did you say a monkey that looks like John Cena?”

“That’s why I’m bleeding. I think I’ve been shot. There’s a hole in my rib cage.”

“If you scream, I’ll cut your tongue off.”

“I made him laugh! Is that good?”

“Fuck that. He’d probably like to hear me beg, I won’t give him the satisfaction.”

“Well, they say broken bones tend to mend faster than broken hearts.”

“She saw something dark in me, it outweighed the light.”

“I will use my personal suffering to entertain him.”

“If we stay and keep fighting, the bad thing will give up. It will get bored and leave you alone forever.”

“I’ve never seen you this way. Like a person that got a glimpse into hell.”

“Basically, it’s a fucking miracle it wasn’t worse.”

“If we kept quiet, we didn’t have to talk about what had happened to the world. Or to our friends or loved ones.”

“In the silence, we could hide from what we feared most.”

“You’re not selfish for wanting to love someone. That’s what everyone wants. You’re just… human.”

“Hey, get your finger out of my sauce.”

“If you’re suggesting we help kill this guy, say what you fucking mean.”

“How do you think their parents felt when they had to bury their fucking kids?”

“Goodnight forever, humankind. It was fun while it lasted.”

“We’re all tired and scared. It’s not cool if I’m the only one who can’t keep their shit together.”

“My dad got fucked up the day I was born, so I’m gonna get fucked up on the day that I die.”

“This is the end, man. And you don’t get to tell me how I choose to die.”

“If you want to die, go do it somewhere else.”

“Don’t worry. I can handle a bad dream. I’m a pro.”

“If this doesn’t work, I’ll bring you back to life and kill you again.”

“Something that does not belong here. It wishes to eat the world.”

“My past, your future, our home.”

“What chance do we have if we stay here? Look at us. We’re all dying as we speak.”

“In one night, a nightmare killed the world.”

“If I fall asleep, will I become like them? Like the people who tried to hurt us?”

“Hey, fuckos, this is your captain speaking. Still alive back there?”

“Maybe you’re going to die. Maybe you can join us.”

“I want to see the stupid look on your face right before you die.”

“I dreamed of you.”

“They are hungry, greedy. They see, and they take.”

“I tried ending it all a hundred different ways, but there was no way out.”

“All that I was was being chipped away, one memory at a time.”

“Just one face. Please. That’s all I want to remember. Just let me keep one smile.”

“I had forgotten who I was, and all that was left was loneliness.”

“It was the pain of everything it took from me and everything I’d lost.”

“They said they’ve been waiting for you. They have seen you in their dreams.”

[wisteriashouse]

irresistible.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, nsfw, fuck or die troupe (i can’t believe i did this)

word count: 5015

remarks: a commission by the lovely @sburbanjumble​!! i hope you enjoy sweet and spicy kyoujurou <3 this is a rewrite of desire, but if kyoujurou were the one hit by the demon instead!

This demon is unlike any other you’ve ever faced before.

“Kyoujurou, follow up on my attack!” You shout as you press forward with your blade, putting all your strength in your arms as you aim for the demon’s neck. Eyes widening as your nichirin blade descends in a gleaming arc, the demon barely manages to throw up her arms in time to shield herself, and there’s a couple of wet thumps as her limbs fall to the grass, sliced clean off by your sword. Behind you, Kyoujurou leaps down, his sword held high as he swings.

“Flame Breathing, Third Form, Blazing Universe!”

You have to leap out of the way to dodge the shockwaves from Kyouojurou’s strike, so powerful that you feel the ground under your feet tremble for a second. Unfortunately for the both of you, the demon is just as fast as well - before Kyoujurou’s sword can cut clean through her neck, she vanishes in a cloud of sickly smelling smoke.

Your eyes dart around the darkness of the forest, blade already held up in an offensive stance for the slightest signal to attack, but Kyoujurou lands nimbly in front of you, holding out one hand to pull you back and the other gripping his own sword tight.

“We still don’t know what her abilities are or what her smoke does. Don’t be too hasty,” he warns you, voice low. Adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, but at your partner’s stern words, you force yourself to take a few breaths to calm yourself down. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down.

“Okay, I got it.” Adjusting the grip on your sword once more, you let out a breath and hold up your blade. “I got caught up in the moment for a bit. Sorry about that.”

The battle hardened expression on Kyoujurou’s face breaks for just a second to beam at you warmly, and its familiarity puts you at ease. “It’s no problem,” Kyoujurou smiles. “You know I’ve always got your back no matter what-” his eyes widen for a split second at something behind you. “Watch out!”

Out of nowhere, however, five shining claws erupt out of the shadows straight towards you - only your reflexes, honed from years of training, allow you to dodge by jumping back right in time, the trace of a sickly sweet scent tickling your nose. Its regeneration speed is fast. Behind you, Kyoujurou slashes at the demon once more, but it vanishes into the darkness of the forest before the blade can connect. Disoriented and senses thrown into disarray by the sudden attack, you almost don’t notice fangs bared at you until it’s too late.

“[name]!” There’s a forceful tug on your arm and you’re sent stumbling forward a few steps, clouds of fuschia pink smoke erupting into the air right where you’d been standing less than a second ago. You’re left coughing and hacking as a sickly fragrance, but through the murky haze clouding your mind, you remember Kyoujurou, who was left standing in the spot that you’d been in prior.

“Kyoujurou!” Gripping your sword tightly with one hand and waving the residue smoke away from your face with the other, your eyes dart about the clearing, searching for Kyoujurou. “Are you alright?”

You find Kyoujurou surrounded by thick clouds of smoke and his hands clasped over his mouth, the demon responsible for it all cackling madly as she raises her claws, pointed tips glinting in the dim light of the moon. Before she can bring them down, however, you lunge forward with your blade with a forward strike, the tip of your blade piercing clean through her shoulder and pinning her against a tree. The pained scream that she lets out must have been heard for miles around.

You take this brief moment to glance back at Kyoujurou, heart hammering wildly in your chest with concern. “Kyoujurou, are you alright?” You call, voice urgent. Kyoujurou does not reply, instead shaking his head firmly as he hunches over, clearly in discomfort. Poison, perhaps? Anxiety floods through you, but you steel yourself and turn back to the demon.

“What did your smoke do to him?”

The demon only laughs at your demand, even as blood trickles down the wound on her shoulder. “Did you really think I would tell you? Think again! As if I would ever tell an accursed demon slayer like you-”

Gripping your sword by the handle, you wrench it with all your might and the demon lets out another shriek of agony, so shrill you can feel your ears ringing. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” you say icily, teeth gritted. While you take no pleasure in causing another creature’s pain, even demons, there’s only so much dallying you can take when Kyoujurou is suffering behind you. “Tell me, and I will speed your passing. If not...” You raise your sword in a wordless warning.

It is brief, but you catch the faintest flicker of fear in the demon’s eyes as she stares up at you. For good measure, you tighten your grip on your sword once more, ready to drive it into her flesh a second time, but she speaks.

“Fine,” she spits, her glare so venomous you can almost feel it eating away at your skin. “My smoke causes an... arousal of the human senses, sending them into overdrive and consuming the mind. If that man doesn’t lie with someone...” her smile is fanged with wicked amusement, “his mind will go insane with lust and he’ll suffer in agonizing pain!”

At her words, your breath is caught in your throat. As much as you want to say that all demons do is lie, from the look in her eyes to the triumphant grin on her blood stained lips, all the signs say that she is telling the truth. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time nor luxury to ponder over this too much, not when every second counts now.

“Then, just as I promised.” Yanking your sword from her flesh, you decapitate her with one swift strike - too fast for her to even let out another scream. Even before her severed head has hit the ground, you’re already running to Kyoujurou’s side, the man having sagged to his knees and only kept upright by the sword he’s driven into the ground to use as a crutch. Crouching next to him, you support his weight as gently as you can, but the heat radiating off his skin takes you by surprise. “Kyoujurou, you’re burning up!”

“I… I’m sorry,” Kyoujurou barely manages to make out between laboured breaths, his face twisted from the discomfort. Quickly, you raise a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, but his hand latches onto your wrist before you can so much as touch his bare skin. He’s trembling faintly, as hard as he tries to conceal it from you, and it almost scares you to see him like this. “Don’t… Not when I’m like this. You should probably leave.”

“What?” You hiss at him, equal parts angry and baffled. “This isn’t a matter of pride, Kyoujurou! I know that you’re a Pillar, but you’ll most definitely not be fine like this. We need to get you to the nearest village, then we can think about what we can do from there. Maybe they’ll have strong enough painkillers that will be able to knock you out for a while, or something to help alleviate the pain-”

“The nearest village is at least a day’s travel from here,” Kyoujurou cuts you off, shaking his head urgently. “And besides, it’s not safe for you to be here with me right now.” You catch him glancing at you for a second before his gaze leaves you, but is that a hint of… desire you see flickering in his eyes? “The state the demon has put my body in is an unprecedented one… I don’t know what I’ll do to you like this. It would be safer if you put some distance between the two of us… I can already feel it growing worse.”

At his words, you frown in confusion for a moment before realisation descends upon you. So that’s what the demon had meant by arousal of the senses…

“But I can’t just leave you like this,” you begin to protest, anxious, but Kyoujurou waves you off.

“I’ll be fine.” Even though he’s the one in this state, he’s still trying to reassure you. “The blood demon art should wear off when dawn comes, so I need only endure this,” he shudders, body tensing up for a second, “until morning. There’s no need for you to worry.”

Even as Kyoujurou says these words, you can see his body starting to shake almost violently, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see the veins protruding along the side of his neck. It just makes you feel even worse when you remember that he had only gotten into this situation trying to save you, or else your roles would be reversed right now. Sunrise is still hours away. Chewing on your bottom lip, you force yourself to concentrate. Think, think, think! What did the demon say about his condition earlier?

If that man doesn’t lie with someone…

You falter for a moment. By lie, she can’t possibly have meant…

There’s no other meaning for the word lie that can be applied in this context, is there?

You glance worriedly at Kyoujurou, but the man only shakes his head. He must have heard the demon’s words from earlier and already made up his mind, without so much as consulting you, no less. Stupid, selfless, self sacrificing Kyoujurou. When will he learn to put himself before others for a change? Does he have any idea how you’ll feel leaving him to suffer like this until sunrise comes, all while knowing that you could have done something to fix this?

For some reason, that thought only frustrates you to no end, and making up your mind with that, you reach for the top button of your uniform.

Before you can begin undoing your shirt, however, Kyoujurou’s hand grips latches around your wrist, so hard you can almost feel the beginning of bruises forming on your skin. Kyoujurou is always careful whenever it comes to you, so it’s a testament to the extent that the blood demon art has affected him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. When you look up at him questioningly, his brow is furrowed with confusion, lips parted.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You hiss back, but you can feel your own fingers trembling slightly from the nerves. “If you… lie with me, it should relieve the pain brought about by the demon’s blood art. Friends would do this for each other, wouldn’t they?”

Would they, though? The thought just makes you uncomfortable, so you simply shrug it aside. You can think about that after you’ve solved Kyoujurou’s problem. However, Kyoujurou’s answer takes you by surprise.

“I cannot,” Kyoujurou says immediately, voice so firm you’re taken by surprise for a second. Is he perhaps worried about your discomfort? In comparison to the pain he seems to be in now, body wracked with shivers and teeth gritted so hard you can almost hear his jaw creak, it will be nothing.

“I really don’t mind,” you begin to say, but Kyoujurou cuts you off once more.

“No.”

“Kyoujurou, this is not the time to be stubborn,” you try to shrug him off, but the grip he has on your wrist is too tight. Frustrated, you glare up at Kyoujurou. You want to help him, but you can’t do anything if he insists on being like this. “Why do you reject me? Is it because I’m not good enough for you? To the point that you’d prefer to suffer like this?”

The more you shout, the more frustrated you feel, tears starting to escape the corners of your eyes. His rejection does sting, yes, but more than that is the helplessness you feel when you see him in pain, yet are unable to do anything to alleviate it.

“So you’re telling me to just walk away?” You continue to shout, voice breaking. Your throat feels thick. “Well, curse it, Kyoujurou, I can’t just do something like that. I-”

A gentle pressure on your lips cuts your words off, and you look up in surprise through wet lashes to see Kyoujurou’s finger pressed against your mouth to silence you. There’s a conflicted expression on his face, caught between a pained frown and a tender smile.

“Don’t say that,” he rasps quietly, managing a smile to comfort you even through his own pain. “You shouldn’t give your body so easily to me... it should be saved for the person that you want to give your heart to. Didn’t you tell me before that… there’s someone who you hold feelings for?”

You stare at him in shock. Why is he still thinking about something like this even now? And besides…

“I cannot possibly let you do that knowing that you have feelings for someone else,” Kyoujurou continues. He’s struggling to get the words out now, his breaths shallow. “So, there is no need to worry about me, I assure you that I will be fine-”

“What if,” your words come out a whisper, “I told you that someone is you?”

For a moment, nothing but those words hang in the silence between the two of you. Kyoujurou’s eyes are wide with shock, but you force yourself to hold his gaze, unwilling to back down. You’re determined to convey every bit of genuinity in your heart and make it known - perhaps the demon was in fact a blessing in disguise that created the circumstance to put aside your cowardice and reveal your true feelings to him now.

“I understand if you don’t return my feelings,” you say firmly, before Kyoujurou can say a word. “However, I too, assure you… that doing this with you…” it feels strange, saying it out loud like this, “it wouldn’t be a bad thing… to me at least. So please, let me help you.”

Kyoujurou is still staring at you, but then he lets out a pained groan and crumples over, unable to keep himself upright any longer. Frantic, you race over to help him up, but the second you touch him, you feel a pair of hands grip your waist before the entire night sky above seems to flip over your head. The next thing you know, you’re on your back in the grass, Kyoujurou straddling your hips. You can’t see the expression on his face, his breath ghosting the side of your neck.

You swallow, but raise a hand to rest it on the top of his head comfortingly. “You okay, Kyoujurou?”

“Ahh… this wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” Kyoujurou murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you almost yelp when you feel teeth roughly scrape the delicate skin.

“W-what, what do you mean?”

“It should have started with my confession,” your momentary shock is cast aside when you feel a large hand sliding up your side, up your ribs to the collar of your uniform shirt, playing at the top button as if to distract himself. “I would have brought you out to dinner, perhaps some flowers… and yet here we are, doing everything backwards. On the forest floor, no less. It is not the place I would have chosen for our first time together.”

All you can manage is a laugh, something akin to warmth burning in your chest as quiet joy overflows. “As long as it’s with you, I don’t mind,” you whisper. Taking his hand, you place it firmly against the top of your collar, the brass of your button cool against your joined hands. “So please, Kyoujurou.”

You can feel it, the deep breath he takes before he descends, mouth kissing along the bare skin of your neck while his hand deftly undoes the buttons of your uniform. Before you have time to be nervous, Kyoujurou’s lips are already on the slope of your collarbones, nipping and sucking lightly as you gasp. “Beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, and you have to fight back your blush.

As your top slips off your shoulders, leaving you exposed to his gaze, you shiver slightly as the cold of the night air leaves goosebumps on your skin. Kyoujurou, ever attentive, notices right away. “Don’t worry,” his fingers trail down your side, before they’re replaced by his lips, hot against your bare skin. The sensation is foreign, a little ticklish even, but strangely welcome, and you have to try not to squirm. “I’ll warm you up in a moment.”

His hands tug at the buckle of your belt even as he continues to map out your body with his mouth, leaving little bruises and marks on you. They sting pleasantly, and with each new one Kyoujurou adds to your skin, you fight back a little moan at the feeling, pressing your legs together to alleviate the strange ache there. Although the night is cool, you feel hot, burning up together with Kyoujurou as he makes good on his promise to warm you up. Perhaps the demon’s blood art is contagious? You wouldn’t mind...

There’s a metallic clink, and the belt around your waist loosens before it slides off you, falling to the ground with a soft thump. Your uniform pants follow soon after, slipped down your legs together with your undergarments, and it’s then you feel cool air brushing against you right there.

Suddenly shy, you press your thighs together, unable to bear the way Kyoujurou’s eyes rake over your body almost hungrily. Still, for all his desire, he remains patient with you, coaxing your legs open carefully with a gentle touch that you can’t help but obey. Fingers skimming up your legs, first from your ankles up to the crook of your knee and finally to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, you bite back a whimper the closer his touch comes to where you need it most.

Slowly, almost carefully, Kyoujurou runs the tip of his fingers along your damp folds and you shudder, the seemingly light touch intensifying ten fold and sending little shockwaves of pleasure down your body. It feels strange, but your body chases it of its own accord, pressing against his hand in a silent plea for more.

“Does it feel good?” Kyoujurou whispers, and you nod urgently. Anything to get rid of that aching, sudden emptiness in you.

“Please,” your voice comes out as a whine, and if you weren’t so aroused you would be mortified by how needy you sound. Isn’t it supposed to be Kyoujurou who is affected by the demon’s spell? “Touch me, Kyoujurou.”

“Mmm, don’t be impatient,” his thumb rubs circles over you, its glide made effortless by the slick now coating his fingers. The pressure relieves you for a second before an even more intense need crashes hot on its heels, unrelenting. When you whine again, all composure now thrown to the wind, Kyoujurou bites his lip and probes, his finger parting your folds to sink into you slowly. Your gasp catches in your throat, and all you can do is let your head fall back as your walls tighten around him, as if trying to keep him inside you.

“More,” you plead, nearly begging him now. One finger isn’t nearly enough, and Kyoujurou proceeds to press another into you even as you squirm on his fingers. A short, bitten off moan escapes you when he starts to move his fingers at a leisurely pace, pumping them in and out of you with an obscene squelching sound. “Kyoujurou, don’t tease.”

“I need to make sure I don’t hurt you,” you tremble under him when he begins to scissor you carefully, making sure to stretch you out so that you’ll be able to take him more easily later. Eager for more but unable to complain, you move your hips towards his hands so that his fingers can press deeper into you, shuddering when his fingers crook against a certain spot. Reaching up, you curl your hands at the nape of his neck and tugging him down towards you so that you can kiss him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, hot and wet, as his fingers still continue to move in you. Arching your back in an attempt to draw closer to him, you suck on his tongue lightly and Kyoujurou lets out a groan, a rumble from deep within his chest.

“Ready, ready,” you break the kiss to tell him, helplessly fucking yourself on his fingers. Pleasure sets every nerve ending alight, from the tips of your fingers to your toes. “Please, Kyoujurou.”

Kyoujurou’s eyes gleam, but you too, can see how badly he needs it. He’s trembling, almost feverishly now, but still he manages a smile as he looks down at you. “Always so impatient with me,” he dips down to plunder your mouth once more, rough and forceful this time, curling his fingers in you and causing you to pant into his mouth. This draws a slight laugh out of him. His fingers slip out of you, and you let out a long, keening whine in complaint.

“Don’t worry,” he squeezes your thigh and you shiver at the look in his eyes. “I promise I won’t leave you wanting.”

Even through the feeling of Kyoujurou’s body on yours and his lips of your skin, you faintly hear the clink of a belt being undone. A moan of anticipation leaves you, and you can’t help but part your legs in response. You need more, more to alleviate the burning ache in you that just doesn’t seem to abate.

Something presses against your entrance, hard and heavy, and your hips press against it involuntarily, demanding more. To your confusion, Kyoujurou doesn’t enter you immediately, instead taking a moment to run his length up and down your folds, and you let out a pathetic little moan when he denies you. Kyoujurou laughs, but it’s rougher, lower this time.

“Impatient,” he repeats, leaning over you. You look up at him pleadingly, sure that tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes from how badly you need it, but Kyoujurou leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Tell me you want it.”

You gape at him, words leaving you for a second at his sudden demand. “Wha-”

“I need to know that you want this as much as I do.” Kyoujurou’s hands trace the spot over your heart, littered with bruises that will probably turn into dark red blooms tomorrow morning. “Tell me with your own words and your mouth that you want this.”

“I-” You flush, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment. The words feel almost shameful on your tongue, but you remind yourself that this is Kyoujurou. “I…” Your voice comes out hushed, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyoujurou. I really do.”

Kyoujurou smiles in response, kissing you gently. His hands slide down to your knees, parting your legs and coaxing them to wrap around his waist, which you obey immediately. That’s when you feel him begin to press into you, parting your folds and slowly sinking into you. At first, the stretch is still bearable, but the further he slides into you, you can’t help but let out a little cry as you stretch more to accommodate his length.

“Too much?” Kyoujurou presses kisses to your hair, the crown of your head. You shake your head determinedly, tightening the hold your legs have around his waist.

“N-no, keep going,” you say, clinging to his form. Kyoujurou looks over you with concern in his eyes, before he nips comfortingly on your lower lip.

“You can bite down on me if you want,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

With those words, he begins moving again, and you fight back another sob as he stretches you open further. Unable to stand the pain, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, teeth latching onto his shoulder. True to his word, Kyoujurou doesn’t even flinch when your teeth break his skin. Instead, he only rubs soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh in a silent bid to comfort.

You’re no stranger to pain, and you’ve trained in many ways to dull it in your years as a demon slayer. Taking a deep breath, you focus your mind and instruct your body to relax, allowing Kyoujurou to slip deeper into you. After a few moments, the pain begins to abate, and you carefully regulate your breathing before you grip his hand tight.

He glances down at you and you nod wordlessly. With a gentle squeeze of your hip, Kyoujurou begins to move once more, and although the ache still lingers, it has already started to dull, replaced by that feeling of fullness that you had experienced earlier with Kyoujurou’s fingers in you, only this time magnified a hundredfold.

When he finally sinks in you all the way to the hilt, you pause for a moment to adjust to the near overwhelming feeling of being filled so completely, busying yourself with sucking marks into Kyoujurou’s neck like he’d done for you earlier. Kyoujurou groans lowly in his throat, murmuring words of encouragement with each mark you leave on his skin - he seems pleased about it. When your teeth latch on to the lobe of his ear, Kyoujurou begins pulling out of you, much to your despair, but before you can whine about it once more, Kyoujurou slams back into you with a smooth, forceful thrust, and your words turn into nothing more than a choked gasp trapped in your throat.

After that, he doesn’t give you a second to breathe, hips pistoning in you with fervour, and all you can do is lie back and take it, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Kyoujurou runs his mouth over your shoulder, your forehead, your collarbone. Faintly, you feel Kyoujurou’s hand work its way between your bodies, coming to a stop at where your bodies are joined. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his fingers slip down to worry your clit roughly and you let out a cry, nails digging into the skin at his back and arms as you cling to him. Kyoujurou hums, a pleased, satisfied sound and only redoubles his efforts, causing your body to tremble with sensation.

The pleasure builds up in you, almost overwhelming, a wave of pleasure surging straight for you. Before you can warn Kyoujurou, it crashes over you and a high pitched sob works its way out of your throat, your body trying to curl up on itself as if that will alleviate the intensity that’s overtaking your body. Above you, you distantly register Kyoujurou’s low groan as his thrusts lose their rhythm before he pulls out of you completely, something warm splattering on your thigh.

Too tired to form words, you simply hold out your arms and Kyoujurou instantly moves into them, tugging you into his hold so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. Already, you can feel the beginnings of an ache in your legs and arms, and from what the older demon slayers have told you before, your… abdomen would probably feel the same way as well tomorrow. Still, you think, looking up at Kyoujurou’s flushed but content face, you think that this was completely worth it.

A gentle kiss to your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Kyoujurou with a slight smile on his face as he gazes down at you. “Are you feeling alright? I might have been a bit too rough there.” His fingertips trace your bare shoulders, the love bites at your neck, and finally your lips. You shake your head, content to go limp against him as he cradles you carefully.

“No, I’m fine.” Glancing up at him, you wonder if the flush on his cheeks is from the earlier exertion or if he’s still affected by the demon’s spell. You try to raise a hand, but overestimate your strength - your hand falls back to your lap before it can even reach halfway to his forehead. Still, Kyoujurou only picks up your own hand with his and presses it to his forehead for you, and you’re relieved to find out that although his body temperature is running warm, it’s nothing like the unnatural heat that had been burning him up from before. “It’s good that you’re alright now.”

“[name]...” The solemnity of Kyoujurou’s voice takes you by surprise. When you glance at him, you see him looking at you with a slightly furrowed brow, hesitation flickering in his golden eyes. “The words you spoke earlier, about the person that you had feelings for being me… was that the truth?”

You blink at him, slightly confused. Had you not been genuine enough with your feelings earlier? Determined to put this doubt to rest, you grab him by the cheeks with a strength that you certainly didn’t have earlier, pulling him close so that your foreheads are pressed against each other’s and you can feel his breath dancing over your skin.

“You, yes you.” You repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss to his lips, which helplessly turn up in a smile under your affections. You can’t help the smile on your face that mirrors his own, his happiness palpable and all too contagious. “I can’t believe that it took a situation like this for me to confess. You better make it up to me, you hear me?”

Kyoujurou laughs, nuzzling your neck. “Okay, okay. The sequence is out of order now but,” he smiles at you, “how about I bring you out to dinner? My treat, of course.”

You have to press your face against his shoulder to hide your smile.

“That sounds lovely.”

[amara-scott]

Movie: Divergent Characters: Eric Coulter x f!Reader Categories: Anger, Fluff, Eric

“Again.” Another jump, down to the ground, push up followed by another jump. Kick, kick, uppercut, hook. My hands fall to my knees, hunched over I try to gulp down the pain in my burning throat. I don’t know if it’s tears or sweat but it’s covering my hot face.

“Again.” He sounds more and more stern. I blink a couple times, standing up straight and am about to do the whole circuit for the- what, 40th time? I lost count long ago. My bones shake and muscles ache. It’s past the point where only numbness is left and I am scared I won’t feel anything anymore after I am done today. If I will ever be done. If he lets me.

I jump and am about to go down to the ground, my hands planted on the cool mat, feet ready to kick back into a plank but my arms shake before they give out and I fall to the ground face first. The ground cooling my cheek. I close my eyes and only hear my breathing, it's loud. Just as my thumping heart. Sweat stinging my eyes now.

“What are you doing?”

My eyes snap open at that question and I feel full of rage and hate. Just- frustration spreading inside every fiber of my being.

I twist my head around, supporting myself on my elbows. “Taking a break maybe?” I say, trying not to sound ironic or rude- but I do. I really don’t care though. I am past the point of just sucking it up.

“What did you say?” He challenges, his cold orbs boring into mine as he folds his arms and shifts in his stance, glaring down at me. His lips twitching into a not so amused smile before sneering down at me.

“I said- taking a break, maybe.” I repeat and twist, sitting with my knees angled up, placing my arms atop. Eyes now down between my legs on the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. He still is a leader. Someone I should respect and who's orders I have to follow.

“Stand up, now.” I sigh with closed eyes and stand back up, looking at his arms, chewing my lower lip.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

I gulp and look up, trying not to forget to breathe. My heart calmed down but once I meet his eyes, my heart rate picks right back up.

“You’re not here to take breaks. You understand?” I nod quickly, not really having enough energy to even form words. He keeps silent for a moment longer, knowing that I struggle to keep up the eye contact. He smirks at the end, moving his head a bit closer, leaning forward.

“I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time." I force myself not to close my eyes and sigh in frustration.

"-Actually, for the rest of the month. Every day.” My eyes grow a bit wider and I want to reply, talk back- but he just raises his pierced eyebrow, daring me. I gulp down my pride and nod once.

“Go.” His jaw is clenched and I quickly, dizzily grab my bottle and move past him, walking quickly.

Why, of all people, does he hate me so much? Am I doing that bad? I didn’t feel like I was. I rarely lost a fight and Four even complimented me after a few. I can’t say the same about Eric though. He never spoke. Only to correct or mock. Nothing kind ever left his lips.

With a sigh I fall into bed after my shower, not even in the mood to go get any food. I’ll just eat more tomorrow at breakfast. My eyes sealed shut and I doze off.

Eric is back at it, yelling at an initiate for losing and telling them to go back to the punching bags. He scoffs and turns around, his eyes wandering around the room and landing on me. I quickly turn away, holding the knife tightly between my fingers and focusing on the target ahead. The clashing of knifes the only sound I hear until he stands next to me.

“Throw it.” He commands and I take another deep breath, throwing and hoping I hit anything. But the knife just bounces off the wall and lands at the bottom of the target.

“Pathetic. Go get the knife.” I whip my head around and look at him with wide eyes.

“You mean- right now?”

“No, after practice. Of course now, go!” I flinch as he ends his sentence and turn back around, looking to the side as a couple people stop and watch.

“Did I say stop? Keep going, all of you.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before taking a deep breath and not looking back as a few knives land in my way, only making me stop a few times. Don’t look back- don’t look back- don’t-

A knife whips right past my ear, I feel the wind brushing my hair away and I stop, watching it emerge from the target I practiced at. I grab the knife off the ground and turn around. Eric standing there with another knife in hand and throwing it up a couple times.

“Next time I won’t miss.” I can’t move my legs after that and Eric frowns, sticking the sharp weapon into the wooden box it’s usually stored in.

“Come on, get back here. You’re not done practicing.”

I want to say anything but I can’t, my feet also glued to the ground. I want to lift anything but I’m frozen.

“(Y/N)? Come on.”

“(Y/N)?”

“Stand up, hey!”

I gasp, sitting up in bed, breathing heavily.

"You looked exhausted, I just wanted to let you sleep longer." Emma sits down next on my bed, giving me a sad smile.

"Thanks, I probably needed that." I mumble, clearing my throat and sit up next to her, head in my hands.

"I brought you some food, don't tell anyone." She whispers and unpacks a sandwich and an apple, handing both to me.

"Wow, thanks, you're amazing." I side hug her, taking the food and gulping everything down with water. Emma giggles watching me and stands back up.

"You shouldn't eat so fast, you'll get a stomach ache- we have to be in the training room in ten." She turns around, smiling one last time and walking off to join some others on their way to the training room.

I sigh, remembering what will happen after training. The dream- it felt so real.

I get ready quickly, jogging down the hall and entering through the tall doors. Everyone is gathering in a circle and I join in, blending into the back of the group to maybe not get noticed.

"This week will be all about your aim. Especially throwing knives and shooting guns." I roll my eyes, shaking my head to myself. This is ridiculous.

"Any complains?" My eyes shoot over to Eric, who's stare is fixed on me for a second longer before wandering around the group. Some are shaking their heads or mumbling no. He saw my expression. I will suffer even more today. If that's even possible.

"Let's get ready then, the targets are back at the wall, pic one and start throwing." Four tells us and we make our way to the targets. I jog up to Emma, sending her a smile.

"You think you're any good at this?" She asks and I shrug.

"Well it's not like I would have a lot of experience so- I can just hope."

"I actually did throw knives a lot back in Amity." I frown, my eyes boring into the side of her face as she smirks.

"Well, more in my head but still. Not the first time I'm thinking about it. Maybe that helps." I chuckle and shove her lightly, both of us finding a spot and trying out the knives, holding them, turning them.

"You have to take multiple aspects into account when throwing a knife. The weight, size and distance to your target. Have a go." Four says and starts pacing behind us hands behind his back and observing. I glance around more, trying to find the piercing blue eyes and I find them, a few steps further down the line but he turns, as if he felt me watching him.

I get ready and try to mimic someone who just hit their target. Legs steady, slightly parted- arm leaning back and then- I close my eyes until I hear a clashing sound. The knife fell down, not even close to the target. Wow.

I try a few more times and get closer and even hit the target but the knife never sticks fully.

"What are you doing?" I flinch at his voice, nearly dropping the knife in my hand. I turn to the side, watching Eric.

"Trying to hit the target?" It sound more like a question as I'm not in the mood to come off as a smart ass or the ironic bitch I usually am.

"Well, you're not doing a great job then." He states and I nod, agreeing with him. There is a small pause before he raises an eyebrow with folded arms.

"Could you maybe- help me out?" I say before thinking about what I actually just said. I hear Emma snorting beside me, trying to cover it up with a cough. Eric's eyes find her for a second before coming back to me.

"Turn around." I frown but quickly follow his order.

"Angle your hips." I shift, one foot forward the other further back, trying to stand sturdy.

"Further." His hands find my waist and he twists it more, my breath hitching as I glance down at his fingers sitting atop my hips.

"Look up." He says, his breath hitting my neck before he steps back again. I focus on the target, reaching my arm back and twisting my shoulders.

"Don't just reach your wrist back. The whole arm." He pulls at my elbow, correcting my stance and I feel my skin burning from where he touched me. My skin tingling.

"Twist your whole body while throwing. Full force." I take another deep breath and do as I'm told yelling out this time, not closing my eyes, too curious if it changed anything.

It did. I hit the target. It sticks. I grin and turn to Eric- but he's already gone further down. I turn back forward and want to do it again. And again.

Maybe I'm actually looking forward to after-practice today.

_________________________________ More Divergent Imagines Full Masterlist

[earlgreydream]

vaccines.

| bucky barnes x reader | fluff |

bucky drabbles 🥺 ❤️

anon requested. I was wondering if you could write a fic where Bucky comforts/ takes care of the reader after she gets her vaccine? Like just full of tooth-rotting fluff 

a/n: i decided to make this one a blurb because i thought it fit better that way

Bucky picked you up from the doctor’s appointment, and you felt fine at first. But in the car on the way home, you started getting a terrible migraine and feeling like you had the flu. 

“Hang in there, we’re almost home,” Bucky promised, feeling sympathetic for you. His hand smoothed over your thigh between shifting the gears of his vintage yellow car. You whimpered and winced as he drove over a uneven part of the road, jostling you.

“I’m so sorry, doll,” he apologized, and you shook your head. 

He carried you inside, your arms hooked around his neck as you were taken to your bedroom. He got you settled amongst the pillows, draping your favorite blanket over you when you complained of being cold. He made sure you were comfortable, handing you the remote to turn on Netflix before moving toward the door. 

“Don’t leave me, I need you,” you looked at Bucky with sad eyes, and he brushed hair from your face gently.

“I’m just going to make you some tea and get you some tylenol. I promise I’m coming back.” 

You nodded weakly, knowing you didn’t have a say in the matter, and you were too weak to get up and follow him to the kitchen. Once Bucky turned the kettle on in the kitchen, grabbing a teabag, he picked up his cellphone. 

“Banner, Y/N is feeling really sick after the vaccine. I’m worried,” Bucky anxiously expressed to the doctor on the phone. 

“That’s totally normal, you don’t need to worry, it’ll go away in a day or so. Send Y/N my best.” 

He thanked the doctor before finishing your tea so he could rejoin you in bed. You looked so small and weak in your state, and Bucky’s heart ached for you. He hated seeing you sick, something being wrong that he couldn’t fix. 

“You’re burning up,” Bucky sighed, touching your hot forehead. Tears started to slip down your cheeks in defeat, just feeling so shitty and exhausted. 

“Oh, doll, no,” Bucky breathed, sitting down behind you and wrapping you in his arms. 

You were shivering from cold, despite your body burning up, trying to soak up Bucky’s body heat. 

“You need to relax, Y/N.”

You tried, and Bucky dragged another blanket over you, putting the tea in your hands and urging you to drink it. He tied your hair back from your face, and you took the tylenol he brought for you. 

“Pick out something to get your mind off of it,” he searched through Netflix with you. 

“Whatever you want.”

“You’re too sweet to me,” you laughed softly, and he kissed your temple. You put on Star Wars, which Bucky decided he could live with without being too miserable. 

“We can order whatever you want for dinner, or I can make something whenever you get hungry,” Bucky promised.

“Can you make your special Romanian food for me?”

“Certainly,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

You traced the lines on his vibranium arm as you watched Revenge of the Sith, eventually warming up in his hug. His fingers brushed through your hair and every so often you felt a kiss against the top of your head.

“I wish Anakin didn’t turn to the dark side,” you sighed, and you felt Bucky’s laugh against your back.

“You’ve seen this movie how many times? You know that’s how it ends,” he teased.

“I’m just saying,” you mumbled shyly.

“I love you.”

You got hungry once the movie was finished, and Bucky got up to go to the kitchen to cook for you. You followed despite his protests to stay in bed, but you threatened to cry if he used his super-soldier-serum-strength to keep you in bed. 

You wrapped up in a blanket and held his metal hand as you followed him to the kitchen. He lifted you to sit on the counter beside where he was cooking, handing you his phone to turn on music. 

“You called Banner?” You asked, seeing his most recent history.

“Yes, I was worried about you,” Bucky gazed at you softly, and your heart swelled.

You leaned forward to kiss him, appreciating your sweet, loving boyfriend. The house began to smell like his home-cooked food, the familiarity of it bringing you comfort. 

“Go sit, doll,” Bucky lifted you down off the counter and lightly swatted your ass. Even when you were sick, it was his way of getting you to move or just to remind you of him as you walked by. You giggled at the action, going to sit at the table to eat. 

He set a plate in front of you, rubbing your back as you ate. 

“This is amazing, thank you,” you smiled up at him. He returned it, kissing the tip of your nose. 

He loved on you the rest of the evening, trying to make you feel better and cheer you up. After taking a bath and having your back rubbed, you were in Bucky’s oversized clothes, curled up in bed. 

He was asleep soundly beside you, his arm draped over your waist, resting on your tummy under your top. You tried to drift off, but your discomfort prevented you from doing so. Bucky had been so sweet and spent the entire day taking care of you, and you didn’t want to wake him. You laid there in silent suffering, staring at the wall, trying not to squirm. 

“Y/N,” Bucky’s voice was thick with sleepiness, deeper than normal.

“I can’t sleep, I’m sorry,” you apologized. 

“It’s alright, doll. Give me a minute,” he mumbled, getting out of bed. He dragged on a hoodie and rubbed his eyes, tying his long hair into a bun.

“Let’s go,” he waved for you to follow him, and you got out of bed. He grabbed the keys and the two of you went outside, Bucky opening the passenger door of the car for you. 

He handed you the blanket from the back seat, getting in the driver’s side. Soft music played from his radio, and you stretched out, letting Bucky drive you around to lull you to sleep. 

It became habit when you couldn’t sleep, he’d roll through quiet neighbourhood streets, taking you for a drive. He always woke up for you, not letting you be awake alone. Bucky knew all-too-well what it was like to lie awake at night alone, and he never wanted you to feel that way.

You were beginning to feel better, and the drive lulled you to sleep. Bucky was careful not to wake you when he moved you two back to bed, thankful you were finally able to rest. 

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Reason to Come Back (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Reason to come back

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 3574

Request: "can you do something where seb(or one of his characters)and reader used to date and one day he broke up with her and after a short time he comes up with a new girl(not cheating)and the reader thinks that she’s worthless and not beautiful or good enough and that’s why he broke up with her and tries to be better(you know what to do•_-) and silently suffering etc. and with a happy ending where they get back together"

Warnings: mentions of a breakup, angst, depression, very slight mentions of disordered eating and exercise (very slight, not like most of my other fics), general feelings of worthlessness, angst

Tags: @buckys2thicc @mardema @stucky-on-spiderman @abitgryffindorky @freigeistundanderes @barnesplums @thatfangirl42 @buckfics @babyboibucky 

A/N: I AM SO SORRY TO THE ANON THAT REQUESTED THIS SO LONG AGO AND THAT IT TOOK SO LONG! I don’t even know if they’re still here, I feel so bad. I got an anon request for this fic and I did not know about the inbox for Tumblr accounts until just recently because I’m incompetent. There’s no excuse for me taking so long to write it, but I wanted to even though it’s been 9 months since they sent it. If you’re still here anon, thank you for sticking with me!

NEW NOTE 06/04/21: I rewrote this to be for Bucky as opposed to Sebastian. It is still mostly the same, just reworded in some places. This is meant to take place in reference to the timeline of tfatws and mentions moments from the show. I am referencing “the time he was gone” as the series episode 1-6. I don’t know how much time passed but I assume it was at least a few weeks if not longer (especially between episodes 5 and 6). That’s how I wrote it.

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

It was a quiet night, you under some blankets on the couch watching a movie. There was an empty bowl aside from a few popcorn kernels on the coffee table in front of you, the movie more for background noise than entertainment. You were scrolling through your phone mindlessly, looking for a distraction that would keep you occupied.

Not that it was working too well. There wasn’t much that could distract you from the fact that you were alone.

9 months. You had dated for 9 months. Not that he had been around for much of it. He had been with Sam on an extended mission, and he had been gone for a few weeks. You didn’t know much about the mission, Bucky wasn’t allowed to tell you. For your safety. You understood. It was his job, you knew that, but it could be lonely most of the time. He would call or text you if he could, but he couldn’t compromise his location. You were always happy to hear from him, but it wasn’t the same as when he was around.

You knew this would happen, and you had accepted that. It was hard, but you could manage.

You hadn’t heard from him in a weeks, but you didn’t think much of it. He and Sam must have gotten closer to the answers they had been looking for. You could only hope that he was safe. it took a toll on you, worrying about him, but you had been so happy when he had said he was coming home. But when he walked through the door, he didn’t seem excited at all.

You had wrapped your arms around him, and he had hesitantly hugged you back gently. You had known something was wrong almost immediately, pulling back and trying to meet his eyes. “Babe? Are you okay?”

“We should talk,” he said, struggling to meet your eyes.

You pulled your eyes together with concern. “Yeah, yeah what’s wrong?”

“I, uh… I don’t know if this is gonna work out.”

You shook your head, surprised. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I just don’t think you and I work with 1,000 miles between us.”

“What?” you said in disbelief. “You’re the one who has to leave and I told you that I’m okay with it, and I am. I never thought you’d be the one with the problem with it.”

“Y/n -”

“We can work this out, Buck. You said it yourself, you don’t normally go away for that long. I’m not going anywhere, I - ”

“I can’t ask you to stay, y/n,” he said, cutting you off. You shut your mouth and shook your head. “Where is this coming from, what happened?” you asked.

He cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“You don’t get to walk away from this like that!” you exclaimed, nearly yelling.

“And I don’t have the right to expect you to wait for months while I’m out trying to save people. I thought it’d be fine but I couldn’t stop thinking about you here, alone. There’s going to be more missions, more danger. They recreated the serum. Who knows what else they’ll be able to create? You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me! I told you I’m okay with it and I still am, Bucky! I know the risks!” you said, tears pricking your eyes.

He looked away. “You deserve much better than me. Someone who can be there for you.”

You walked up to him and cupped his face. “You’re all I could ever want Bucky. Distance be damned.”

He sighed and pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly for a moment. “I have to go y/n. I’m sorry.”

He let you go and turned around, not even looking back to say goodbye.

That had been a couple of weeks ago. You had been crushed at first, devastated. But you were still able to function in your day-to-day life. You had a few friends to hype you up or cry with you, whatever the day was. You were able to still get to work, try to move on. And it was getting better, but the nights were still hard. It wasn’t the same when you knew he wouldn’t be coming home.

During the day you could pretend like you were waiting for that night when he would be able to call you. But at night, it was dark and you didn’t have a person you wanted to call.

You weren’t bitter, in a way you understood. You had known how relationships could be ruined by distance and work. But being a super soldier wasn’t a typical line of work. You had been okay with it, but you hadn’t thought that it would’ve affected Bucky as much as it seemed to. You had been emotional at the time, but looking back on it you could understand where he was coming from. Relationships were two-sided - just because you felt okay didn’t guarantee he was.

You knew what he did was dangerous. You had accepted that there might not have always been a happy ending. Maybe he hadn’t.

But then one day you had walked into a bar, only to see Bucky flirting with another girl, laughing away..

That was all you needed to see.

You didn’t want to read too much into it, any kind of situation could be misread. But him laughing with a very attractive girl over drinks shortly after becoming single - you couldn’t help but wonder.

You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter, that you were reading everything wrong, but your heart still felt as though it was breaking.

She was gorgeous. Much more so than you, you had thought.

Was that why he left? Was he just wanting to get himself back out there? Had he met her and just needed to get rid of you?

You didn’t want to think that way, none of it was true. He wouldn’t do that, he was a good man. But still…

Maybe if you were different it would’ve been harder for him to leave.

Maybe you hadn’t given him a good enough reason to stay.

And maybe, if you were better, prettier, he would come back.

It started small - making more of an effort to go to the gym, not ordering takeaways every night, that sort of thing. Not that you had much of an appetite to begin with. But you didn’t realize when your days had become full of going from work to the gym, nor why you had freaked out so much when you had sprained an ankle and couldn’t do your normal workout.

You had decided to work your arms those next few days to supplement the cardio you had missed. You had kept this up until you woke up one morning struggling to turn over because you were so sore. You decided that that day, you could take a rest day.

A rest day turned into a rest week, and soon enough you were only leaving your house to go to work. And only because you needed money.

You had cut yourself off from most of your contacts, still replying every now and then so they wouldn’t be concerned. You didn’t go out with them or call them because you were worried they would see right through you. Better to stay home. Your bed would never judge you.

You had become familiar with the spots on the wall, the streaks from god knows what, the way that light would filter through your window as the sun ascended and descended the sky. Hours could pass and you could still be in the same position.

You had to keep up a front around everyone. Letting people know how much you were hurting was not an option for you. Then they would ask what was wrong and pull you aside and look at you with this concerned face that you couldn’t deal with. It was the one that everyone always gave when someone was having a bad day, the one people put on when they wanted you to think that they cared. Sometimes they did, but most of the time a person with any sense of morals would put that face on to make a person think that they cared. It’s the same way “How are you?” is more of a greeting than a genuine question.

There were people who cared, but you didn’t want to have that conversation. You didn’t even know what you were doing anymore. It was an honest thought of bettering yourself, but it was for the wrong reasons. Trying to be better for Bucky made you realize how much you missed him. How angry you really were at him. But you couldn’t take it out on him, he didn’t deserve that at all, he didn’t earn that. But you were angry at...something, and maybe it was yourself, at letting him walk out that door, of not calling him and leaving him messages. Maybe if you had fought for him he would’ve stayed. If you had said something when he distanced himself.

You felt like this was your fault. And maybe if you changed something about yourself, you would learn from your mistakes.

Not that you knew exactly what you had done or what isolating yourself would fix, or teach you for that matter.

At some point, you must have fallen asleep because your ringtone jolted you awake. You groaned, shutting your eyes again. You would let it go to voicemail, just like all of the others. If it was that important they would text you.

You let it ring, sighing when it had stopped. You readjusted in your bed, trying to fall back asleep. It was a Saturday morning, you had until Monday morning to sleep. You were going to make the most of it.

But then your phone began ringing again.

You opened your eyes again, picking up your phone to see who it was. You dropped the phone when you saw the name

Bucky Barnes

Why the fuck was he calling you? What could he possibly have to say to you?

You watched the phone ring through to voicemail, soon after seeing a voicemail was left. You didn’t bother listening to it, you didn’t need to. You simply rolled over in bed. If it were that important, he would have called sooner.

Bucky’s POV

As the call went to voicemail again, Bucky was confused. He had never known you to miss a call, ever. It wasn’t like you, he knew you would drop anything to take calls. You had said you hated people leaving voicemails because you hated them having to listen to your voicemail message. You had thought your voice had sounded weird. It was one of the little things he remembered about you that made him smile

And realize how royally he had fucked up.

Being away on a mission wasn’t anything new for him, but maintaining a serious relationship for him was. He had never met anyone like you, and he had missed you so much when he had left. He hadn’t felt anything like what he did when you smiled at him since the 40′s. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but all he could think about was how much he had missed you. And that made him think about how much you must have missed him.

He felt like he was holding you back in some way. He was used to being away in dangerous situations for periods of time but you weren’t. And no matter how much you had assured him that you were okay with the long-distance relationship, as the months went on he felt guilty for not being able to be there in the way that he wanted to.

In the way you deserved.

He broke up with you because he thought you deserved better than relying on phone calls and texts for months at a time. Someone who could be there all the time for you. Someone who you didn’t have to worry about getting shot when he left for a mission. Someone predictable and reliable. Something he couldn’t always do.

But God, did he miss you.

He regretted walking out that door. He regretted not giving you a better reason, for not calling you or texting you until now, weeks later. The more time went on, the more he felt it would be inappropriate to call you to apologize.

But he couldn’t take it anymore, so he dialed your number. And when it went to voicemail, he had gotten a little worried.

He knew he didn’t have much of a right or reason to be worried, but he had a gut feeling that something wasn’t right. So, he decided to reach out to one of your friends.

Hey, is y/n alright?

Why do you want to know?

Look, I know I messed up. I just wanted to apologize and give her the answer she deserves. But she’s not answering my calls.

She doesn’t do phone calls anymore.

What do you mean?

She won’t answer calls. She won’t even come out with us anymore. Something’s up but she denies it.

When did this start?

When do you think?

Bucky’s heart sank to his stomach. This was his fault. And he had to go make it right.

Your POV

You were still in bed, wondering why Bucky had called you. It didn’t make sense to you, for him to call after all of this time. What could he possibly have to say to you? Did he want to inform you of a new girlfriend before the news caught wind of it? Did he want to come up with some dumb excuse to tell you he was sorry?

It made you scoff slightly, but the tug at your heart let you know that it wouldn’t be unwelcome.

You couldn’t deny it. As much as his leaving had hurt you, you missed him more than anything.

You wanted another chance with him, one that you weren’t sure you would get. And the thought of him coming back to you was comforting. Like maybe it wasn’t your fault. Or maybe you had done enough to win him back.

Wishful thinking.

You had lost track of time, once again, but were snapped out of your daze by knocking on your door.

What? Why would anyone be here?

You sighed. It was probably just some random person selling some random product or something.

More knocking. More insistent. You sighed, standing up and silently groaning at the soreness you felt in your body. Not necessarily from overuse, but more so from underuse. You stood you slowly, walking quietly over to your door.

More knocking.

You made it to the door and glanced through the peephole you had, eyes widening and a small gasp leaving your mouth.

Why the fuck was Bucky here?

More knocking.

You ran a hand down your face. Knowing him, he wouldn’t leave. But why did it go from calling straight to ‘I’m coming to your door’? As if he hadn’t been the one to leave you?

More knocking.

You swallowed dryly. “Why are you here?” you called out through the door.

Bucky let out a breath. “I just want to talk to you”

You shook your head on the other side of the door, wondering if you should let him speak. As if he wasn’t already living rent-free in your mind.

“Please y/n.”

You set your face hard, pulling the door open. At least you would get to say your piece to him.

“Now you wanna talk? Fine. Let’s talk.” you said, coldly.

Bucky was slightly taken aback, though he couldn’t blame you. He took in your appearance, exhaustion seeming to overtake you. Dark circles under your eyes, pale skin, you just - all life seemed to be drained from you. He scratched the back of his neck nervously before he asked quietly, “Can I come in?”

You stepped to the side, silently allowing him in, closing the door behind you. You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged slightly. “What do you want Barnes?

“I’m sorry,” he said. You scoffed slightly, shaking your head and looking away. “Y/n look at me, please. I fucked up.”

“Well it took you long enough to figure that one out didn’t it?” you snapped, looking at him.

“Y/n please -”

“Tell me, when exactly did you figure out that maybe, just maybe, you should say you were sorry?”

“Y/n please - “

“Who was the girl? The one in the bar from a few days after we had broken up? The one you were hitting on over a couple of drinks?”

“The… what?”

“When did you feel the slightest bit of regret? When did you change your mind and decide that you didn’t want to leave?”

“I never wanted to leave you!” he exclaimed. “Can you please just listen to me?”

You looked at him, anger in your eyes but you closed your mouth. You gave him a look that said ‘I’m listening.’

He took a deep breath. “The woman at the bar was an old friend of Sam’s. He had introduced the two of us at one point. I was at a bar one night and and she came over to say hello and stayed for one drink. It’s nothing more than that.”

You took a breath. Situations could definitely be read wrong. You knew it had probably been nothing.

“When we first got together we had talked about me leaving for missions. Long-distance, unpredictable times, dangerous missions. A lot of people have a hard time keeping that going.”

“And I knew that and was okay with it.”

“Let me finish, please.” he pleaded. “I knew you knew the risks but I’m not sure I was as ready as I thought I was. I left and suddenly I couldn’t talk to you because I was worried for your safety. I couldn’t be there for you in all the ways I wanted to be. In all the ways you deserved. I just...you didn’t deserve that. You deserved so much more than that.”

You felt tears prick your eyes. “You already told me that. When you left. What’s really going on?”

He shook his head slightly. “ Sam’s sister had gotten a call with a threat towards her and her children. I couldn’t put you at risk. These people, they were super soldiers just like me. I had a few close calls with serious injuries. And I realized that if I got hurt I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t let you get hurt and I couldn’t let you worry about whether or not I would come home alive. I thought… I thought it’d be less painful for both of us if we stopped seeing each other before that happened.”

You shook your head slightly. “Why couldn’t you tell me that?” you said, a little more softly.

“I don’t know”

You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than I don’t know.”

“I - “ He sighed slightly. “I was scared. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I was scared that I was going to lose you.”

“So you gave me up?” you asked.

“And made the biggest mistake of my entire life.”

You looked to the side and bit your lip slightly. “You know I thought it was my fault?” you turned your face back to Bucky’s confused one. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That if I was enough you wouldn’t have left. Or if I was better you would’ve come back.”

He shook his head and started walking towards you to comfort you. “It was never your fault angel -”

You backed up slightly. “You don’t get to call me that. Not right now, not yet at least.”

He looked hurt slightly, but he nodded. After a few moments of silence, you scoffed slightly.

“You know, as much as I hate to admit it, I fell apart these past few weeks. Told myself that the only thing I wanted and needed was having you come back. And here you are and...I don’t know, Bucky.” you shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do or think, you broke up with me because you were afraid of hurting me? I - “ you rubbed your eyes. “I just… I get it, but I just wish we could’ve had this conversation weeks ago, Buck.”

“Does this mean we’re done?” he asked timidly.

“I… I don’t know. I just…. I think i need a little bit of time. Please. Just some time to think.”

He nodded, though he looked slightly disappointed. “Yeah, of course.” you nodded, walking him over to the door, opening it. He turned around. “Is it okay to give you a hug, y/n?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you looped them around his neck. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, tears forming in your eyes as you realized how much you missed this. How much you needed this. When he went to pull away, you held him a little more tightly before letting him go.

He smiled at you before turning to leave. “Take as much time as you need, y/n.”

You gave him the smallest of smiles back. “I’ll see you later Bucky.”

And with that, you closed the door behind you, not having a clue what any of this meant. This didn’t make it okay by any means, but maybe, just maybe, the two of you could start fresh. Together.

[hrtiu]

“ name told me you're in love with me. tell me it isn't true. tell me this is all just a huge misunderstanding. “ “ i can't. “ @famouskittychild​ thanks for the prompt! prompts are from this post.

“Ahsoka, can I talk to you?” Rex asked.

Ahsoka looked up from tinkering with the tiny power cell that she hoped would eventually power her new lightsaber. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Rex cast a quick glance around the cramped mess. “Maintenance shaft?”

She looked blankly up at him a moment before nodding and getting to her feet. It was only Rex, Ahsoka, and Gregor on their antique transport, but there still never seemed to be enough space. The maintenance shaft was where she and Rex would go to talk if they didn’t want Gregor to overhear.

Ahsoka followed Rex into the shaft and shut the door behind them, deftly dodging the exposed wires and sharp metal bits that stuck out from the walls at odd angles. This was already pretty inconvenient—she wondered what they’d do if they ever managed to recover other dechipped clones.

“So, what was so top secret we couldn’t talk about it in the mess?” Ahsoka asked.

Rex sucked on his cheeks and shrugged, his golden eyes avoiding her gaze.  “It’s… probably nothing.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms and gave him a flat look. “If it’s nothing then why did you drag me into this safety hazard?”

“Well, uh…” Rex scratched at the back of his head and looked up to the ceiling. ���Gregor said something the other day. And you know, it’s probably just Gregor being Gregor. But I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I thought I’d come to you and clear the air.”

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at him, warning bells beginning to sound in the back of her head. “Clear the air of what?”

“Like I said, it’s probably nothing. But Gregor said that he thought we make a cute couple.”

A gentle hiss emitted from one of the mystery pipes overhead, but the sound barely registered in Ahsoka’s mind. She fought to keep her expression blank, to not give anything away. It was possible this might turn out well. It was possible. But every one of her instincts was screaming at her that this was bad.

“Oh. Well, you know Gregor,” she said with forced calm.

“Yeah, and I told him he’d misunderstood. I told him we’re good friends. But he said…” Rex paused, his gaze once again skittering away. “He said that he’s spent more time around civilians than I have and that he recognizes love when he sees it. He said that you’re in love with me.”

Every synapse in Ahsoka’s brain froze over. Count on Gregor of all people to pick up on her great secret.

“Oh,” she said, her numbed senses oddly beneficial in keeping her tone cool and collected.

“Yeah.” Rex jerked his gaze back to Ahsoka’s and his brows knit together in concentration. “It’s… It’s not true, is it?” He forced a chuckle. “Tell me it’s just Gregor imagining things.”

She opened her mouth to tell him he was right. She moved her lips up and down to form the words. It’s not true. I don’t know what Gregor’s talking about. You’re a great friend. But no sound came out.

Rex’s expression hardened, and he took a half step closer to her in the already-confined space. “Ahsoka…”

She held his gaze as long as she could manage, then looked away. Her eyes fixed on a torn red cable sticking out of the durasteel wall, jagged metal wires spilling out of its guts. She shook her head.

“I can’t lie to you, Rex,” she whispered.

He let out a heavy breath and retreated from her as much as the narrow space allowed. Ahsoka sank into her shoulders, her heart breaking a million different ways.

“This isn’t… we can’t…” Rex struggled to find the words. “Ahsoka, I can’t.”

A hot tear coursed down Ahsoka’s cheek, but she refused to wipe it away—refused to call any attention to it. She wanted to fold herself up over and over again until she disappeared. She didn’t want to be having this conversation.

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said.

Another tear seeped out, and Rex let out a choked sigh, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “Please, please don’t cry.”

“It’s not like I want to,” Ahsoka said, almost back to her freshly-minted Padawan days.

“You mean the world to me, Ahsoka,” Rex said, his hand squeezing her shoulder awkwardly before letting go. “But almost everyone I care about in this galaxy would shoot you on site.”

“I know,” she reiterated, because she did. She could see the ghosts of his brothers in his eyes, could feel the guilt he carried—a shame that only magnified her own. It was eating them both alive, being together like this, but she couldn’t imagine being alone. They should have already separated by now, but she couldn’t bring herself to suggest it.

She loved him.

Rex leaned back against the wall, somehow finding a surface that wouldn’t skewer him. His expression sagged and the dim lights overhead exaggerated the bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

Looking at him like this—suffering, tired, and oh so lonely—Ahsoka made herself a resolution. It would kill her to say it, but she had to get the words out. If she spoke them aloud, maybe she could accept their truth.

“I know you don’t feel the same way,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about my expectations.”

His eyes shot to hers with startling intensity. “It’s not that I don’t feel the same way.”

Ahsoka’s breath caught in her throat. “You… don’t?”

“I… care about you. I don’t know what the right word to use is, but I care about you so much it’s… difficult to describe.” He ran a hand through locks that weren’t there, his eyes looking off into somewhere lightyears away. “But I can’t keep choosing you over my brothers, over and over and over again. And that’s what will happen if we stay together.”

The brittle pieces of what was left of Ahsoka’s heart blew away, scattered by the winds to some unknown corner of the galaxy. More tears threatened to fall, but Ahsoka ordered them back in. She forced her chin up and looked Rex in the eyes. He deserved as much.

“I understand. We’ll be refueling in Pantora tomorrow. You can drop me off there.”

A tiny part of her waited for him to object. He nodded.

“Alright… I… Yeah, that’s good,” he said.

She swallowed thickly then stood up tall, her hands clenched together behind her back for strength. “Well, I guess I’ll get packing then.”

He made no move to stop her as she edged her way towards the hatch. Just a few more feet, and she’d be out of his line of sight. Then she could cry.

She reached the hatch and looked back at him, her resolve weakening for a brief moment. He slumped against the wall, the ghosts of his brothers written plainly across his face.

“...Rex?”

He looked up at her, eyes shining. “Yeah?”

“Is there… I know not today, but someday… Is there any hope?”

Through all the memories and anguish, Rex managed a small but true smile. “Always, little’un.”

She offered a wobbly smile of her own, then stepped back through the hatch.

Gregor was right. She was in love with Rex.

[360iris]

do you have any wips? sorry i’m just curious, i’m in love with your writing

Luv, Hold Me Down (Sirius Black x Reader, WIP)

Warning: Mature themes? I don’t know with this one.

Word count: 2,209

A/N: You’re gonna hate my ass because I have zero intention to finish the smut on this one shdhd. Maybe when I’m less busy I’ll come back and update it (although not atm). There are typos galore too so I’m sorry in advance!

—————————————-

The infamous Bubblegum Bomb Incident of 1972. Casualties: one.

During Year Two, Sirius had resolved to get revenge on Cissy’s insufferable boyfriend ever since he tripped him in the halls to get a laugh out of his Slytherin lackeys; and what better way to do that than ruining his precious platinum locks.

It was suppose to be a quick and untraceable procedure. He’d get to personally serve Lucius his own brand of justice and the job would be completed without having to suffer detention.

If only you hadn’t been rushing through the halls that day.

Lunch had just ended, and you were haphazardly ducking and dodging through the wave of students, on your way to visit Remus. He’d been sentenced to a strict, three day period of consistent bed-rest in the infirmary after a particularly bad transformation.

You’d just wanted to bring him a slice of his favorite Hogwarts style coconut cream pie, but one wrong turn and you were suddenly bombarded with three quick pelts of homemade exploding bubblegum bullets.

Sirius had designed them to be quick and lethal with their distribution of rubbery goo so that the target's hair was sure to be ruined.

The first shot sent the small plate in your hands completely airborne. The next two hit you square in the chest, knocking you fully onto your back.

The aftermath was so extreme that it took the combined effort of Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, and eventually, the guiding hand of Madam Pomfrey to free you from the sticky sludge and off of the stone pavement.

By the time they’d got to the infirmary, your entire head of hair had been deemed unsalvageable by sweet Poppy, and the only thing she could figure to do was shave it clean off by hand.

You’d spent the next two days unexpectedly alongside a tired Remus, confined in the sick bay, crying your eyes out hysterically. You’d had no idea who had done this to you or why.

That was until the third day, when Poppy finally allowed visitors in, in hopes of lifting your spirits.

Your guests included:

An empathetic Lily and Mary, both girls bringing you and Remus an abundance of flowers from the greenhouses, with explicit approval from Professor Sprout; alongside the homework you’d missed and plenty of junk foods.

An overzealous Marlene who’d spent the entirety of the three days drafting up and collecting signatures for a petition to permanently ban disruptive joke shop type inventions.

And lastly, an uncharacteristically stonefaced James and solemn Sirius who both quietly observed the crucially placed scarf on your head meant to distract from your current state of baldness.

“Go on then. Tell her, man. It’s only proper.” James said abruptly with folded arms, for the first time ever foregoing his usual impeccable home-taught manners and any form of courteous greetings altogether.

You watched confused as Sirius stood some several feet away, staring directly down at his shoes. After another coarse verbal prod from James, he stepped forward, eyes wide and brows furrowed.

“I- You have to understand, I couldn’t have known, Y/N! It happened so suddenly and before I knew it, it was too late!” He pleaded desperately and you weren’t quite understanding what he meant.

“I don’t follow, Sirius. What are you on about?” You asked, watching as he began wringing his hands.

He looked over to James again, seemingly pleading for aid that wouldn’t come. James looked positively severe, intent on standing by his decision to have the boy do this by himself.

“I- I was the one who blew the gum bullets.” Sirius finally whispered, looking positively terrified of your reaction. “But I didn’t intend on hitting you, I promise! It was for that git Malfoy! Remember when he tripped me in front of all of those sixth years last month? I’d been working on a way to get him back ever since! You’ve got to believe me, Y/N!”

But you’d stopped listening after the initial reveal. Your blood ran cold and it was hard to focus on anything in particular before suddenly all of your senses came rushing back in, and you were furious.

And even though James and Remus had been gauging your response, neither could have been quick enough to match the speed at which you pulled off both of your slippers and hurled them at the older boy’s face.

Successfully managing to clock him so hard, he reflexively reached up to clutch his sore, but still intact nose.

After that day, you had deemed Sirius public enemy number one, he managed to outrank even the silver-spoon fed Slytherins and that antagonizing blight, Peeves.

While there were tonics for quickening hair growth, you cursed Sirius Orion Black, every time you had to awkwardly apply a plethora of random oils to your scalp and walk around campus bald for an entire semester.

When he looked your way, you glared back mercilessly. If he dared to even address you, your responses were far from being deemed PG-13.

He’d spent the first six months wearily but consistently trying to apologize, however the damage had already been done, and it’d destroyed any semblance of friendship he’d crafted with you beforehand.

So after a while, he gave up. If you were going to hate him regardless of his actions, he figured he might as well stand up for himself during the bickering matches that transpired whenever the two of you were less than six feet apart.

Over the years, you’d remained bestfriends with Remus and James, though they could never hang out with the both of you at the same time.

For example, if you were eating breakfast with the two boys in The Great Hall and Sirius arrived late after sleeping in, you’d promptly roll your eyes and slide away to talk with Lily.

——

“That most definitely is not healthy, James.” You grimaced, tilting your head back laughing. The book in your lap, long since abandoned from the moment your bestfriends entered the common room.

“Muggle five second rule, Y/N! You were the one who told me about it to begin with!” He grinned from his spot sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you.

You couldn’t help bursting into a fit of giggles, desperately trying to respond. “Rem- Remus! Please! Inform him that it doesn't apply to dropping a sandwich down an entire flight of stairs!”

“Believe me I tried, but he seemed pretty determined to eat it, hair and all after catching up to it.” Remus replied softly, a fond smile playing on his lips as you began making gagging noises of disgust.

“No! James Fleamont Potter, tell me you didn’t actually eat hair!” You laughed, extending your socked foot to shove him.

“I will suffice by just saying that, there may or may not have been a stray hair or two on it when I picked it up- Oh! Sirius, how was detention?” James trailed off to greet a certain boy and your demeanor immediately soured.

Your textbook on alchemical runes suddenly seemed like the most interesting thing in the world.

“It was worth it. Mcgonagall must be getting tired of me because she had me choose a book and read for three hours. Don’t let me interrupt the fun though. Looks like you’ve finally coaxed the Ice Queen to defrost for a bit. Shame I wasn’t here to see it.” He remarks, and you didn’t need to be looking at him to know he was wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Don’t worry, Black. I’ll never be able to truly relax knowing you’re still out running amuck. Next time you get written up, I’ll be sure to beg Mcgonagall to keep you chained outside with the rest of the wild animals.” An acute look of disgust etches across your face as you close your book, promptly shoving it into your bag.

“If you’re so desperate to see me in a collar, the person you need to be begging is right in front of you, doll.”

You could not have rolled your eyes harder at his remark. In a huff, you tug the strap of your bag around your frame and stand indignantly.

“You’re actually right for once. James? Keep your mutt on a tighter leash, before I’m forced to be the one that puts him down.” You sneer, flipping your hair over one shoulder and striding up to the girls dormitory before he can get in another word.

Remus sighed, unhappily leaning back against the couch he was currently sprawled across. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Sirius watched as your figure disappeared up the stairs before turning to the boy, a dumb smile playing on his lips.

“She doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she tries to make you believe.” Was all he offered giddily before skillfully changing the subject.

———

Much like the infamous playboy Sirius Black, you were known for how frequently you broke the hearts of anyone you hooked up with. They found that sex with you was a spiritual experience, but were usually crushed when you made it clear you weren’t interested in recurring partners.

When Gryffindor’s Quidditch team won a mid-season match against Ravenclaw, James was relentless in persuading you to come to the after party. And though you weren’t originally keen on the idea, you figured it’d be an ample opportunity to relieve some stress.

The night had gone well. You’d garnered a nice buzz from the punch James made in his dorm and had your eyes fixed on Theodore Nott who’d been snuck in by Marlene.

Sirius, who was working his way onto his third cup of punch, watched you make eyes with the Slytherin boy from across the room.

He sat silently seething as you adjusted in your spot on the couch, crossing your legs while holding that snake’s gaze. In the end, all it took was the simple curl of your index finger for Theodore to hand his drink to an unimpressed Marlene and approach you.

Sirius watched as the two of you exchanged a handful of words before you sultrily dragged the boy away by his collar.

It took a minute for him to register that the styrofoam cup in his grasp was crushed.

After grabbing a napkin, he irritatedly ran a hand through his hair and his breath was ragged.

Why did he care that you were probably seconds from fucking a random guy? He definitely wasn’t one to judge, he’d been with plenty of people over the years.

However, no matter how many times he rolled the idea around in his head, he was getting angrier by the minute.

Remus approached him to spark up a conversation, but he was already slipping past him, towards the direction he watched you disappear to earlier.

He found you in the hallway, lip-locked with Theodore who had a grip on one of your exposed thighs. Meanwhile your hands were tangled in his hair.

Sirius’ body switched into autopilot, moving at such a speed that his brain couldn’t even keep pace.

He had harshly pulled the boy off of you, slung you onto his shoulder and made his way to his dorm. Partygoers standing confused as you beat his back, yelling at him to let you go. Once he’s on the stairs away from prying eyes, he delivers a sharp slap to the exposed skin on your thigh.

“Stop screaming bloody murder, Y/L/N.” is all he says and you bite your lip at the sting.

By the time he locked his door and tossed you onto his bed you’re looking at him like he’s insane. Scurrying to get off the mattress but he quickly grabs you ankle, pulling you back to where he dropped you.

“What the fuck has gotten into you!?” You hiss, watching him run a hand through his locks.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to stop being a brat and realize you like me. Tired of watching you hop on random dicks that aren’t mine. You want to get laid tonight? Fine, fuck me then.” He growls and you’re instantly overwhelmed.

“Did a screw come loose in your head? I don’t know what the hell you’re on but I’m not fucking you all people!” You respond by grasping a pillow from his bed and chucking it at his head. He easily catches it with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve loved you since our first year, Y/N. And I’ve observed you long enough to know if you genuinely hated me or not.” He confesses and you freeze. His eyes were crystal clear and you’re at a loss of words so he continues.

He gently grasps one of your hands, bringing it up over his heart. You can very faintly feel his heart racing and your brows furrow. He was actually being genuine.

“You want fuck me so bad you’ve officially gone stupid?” You ask but he sees the tiniest smirk on your lips. And for whatever reason, you actually let him move in to kiss you.

He jumps a bit when you bite his bottom lip and you giggle before he’s pressing you back onto the bed.

It’s a fight for dominance, neither of you wanting to be the one that relents.

[milenadaniels]

Actually, Truly, 14k - Buck/Eddie, Helena POV, post-s4 (AO3)

Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks.

----

Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Isabel calls on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. Their son’s been shot, again, in the line of duty. But this time, instead of being thousands of miles away and out of reach, he’s just a short plane ride away.

Isabel insists they come to her house before going to the hospital but she doesn’t blame COVID protocols for keeping them away from the hospital, so they spend the car ride over imagining the worst.

A complication with surgery.

Permanent damage.

A coma.

The news they receive is that Eddie’s fine, and he’s been home and recuperating for two weeks already.

Helena retreats to the living room while Ramon and his mother fight in the kitchen. They’re yelling in Spanish and for once she wishes she’d never learned.

“Escúchame, Ramon,” Isabel tries to interrupt. Listen to me.

The yelling continues because Ramon doesn’t listen. It’s not his strong suit. Nor is it Helena’s.

Helena paces the length of the living room and holds her phone in her hands, thumb over Eddie’s name in FaceTime, not pressing down.

Eddie’s been home for two weeks.

Isabel hadn’t told them for two weeks.

But Eddie hadn’t either.

They hadn’t seen him in person in nearly two years, and he hadn’t called them since their last fight over a month ago.

Still, Eddie was shot in the streets by a sniper and he didn’t call them.

Mom, listen...

The last time they spoke, it was a phone call, not a video chat, maybe because at that point just the sight of each others’ faces was enough to set them all off. In that phone call, Eddie spoke of a friend whose family was somehow worse off than their own, but who, miraculously, were finally making the effort to fix the broken ties between them in therapy.

“Mom, listen… I spent a long time being angry with Shannon instead of trying to reach out to her and now Christopher is never going to have her in his life again. I don’t want that with you,” Eddie said, his voice brusque but calm, measured. “I don’t want to grin and bear it when you call or when we visit. I want to be glad to pick up the phone, I want to be excited to see you all at Christmas, I want you to be part of our lives. But I can’t do that without you meeting me halfway.” He was resolute, but he was pleading too. “I don’t want to spend the next ten years of our lives like this.”

But the idea of therapy was anathema to the Diaz family and it took only Ramon’s dismissive scoff to reinforce her own distaste of the idea. They called Eddie back to say they had no intention of paying a stranger to tell them everything was their fault and he was blameless.

They didn’t get another call after that.

“— my son!” Ramon yells at Isabel in the kitchen.

“Because, mijo, when you come here, you don’t see your son! You don’t see him living here, growing, Christopher thriving! You don’t see how when you come up here you bring sadness and misery when you should bring joy and comfort.” The words are too close to what Eddie said for them not to have spoken about it together. “By the time I knew he was hurt, he was already out of surgery and doing well. If he wasn’t, I would have called immediately.”

“Oh bueno, so you’ll tell me my son is dying but not that he’s okay?”

“Ramon! Escúchame.” It’s not often that Helena gets to bear witness to the steel in Isabel’s voice, the one she passed down to both her kids. It’s in fine form today. “He was doing well, and had all the help he needed. As soon as things stabilized, I called you. Keep acting like a fool and see if I call you at all next time.”

“If you call? Are you —”

Mom, listen…

“Ramon!” Helena snaps, surprising them all.

“Ramon,” she repeats, more calmly this time. “Listen to her.”

The shock on Isabel’s face almost makes her smile, but her heart is too heavy to commit to it.

“Helena, two weeks she —”

“Our son was shot, and he didn’t tell us.” Helena says, her voice trembling. “Our son was shot, he could have died, and the last thing we would have told him is we weren’t willing to fight for him and Christopher. Weren’t willing to — what? — put our egos aside? Our pride? For one fucking minute to listen to him. To listen to what he needed.”

Ramon’s eyes widen and he hangs his head with a sigh.

Helena faces Isabel, her phone tucked in her palm against her stomach.

“What can we do? We’re listening.”

——————-

Ramon walks it off and Helena helps Isabel in the kitchen in exchange for a promise they’ll go over to Eddie’s for supper. She’s been making care packages for Eddie and Christopher since the shooting, and she’s working on a pasta sauce while Helena starts on her famous banana brown sugar bread — Eddie’s favourite.

“How is he, really?” she asks once her dish is tucked into the oven.

“As well as can be expected,” Isabel replies, throwing spices into the pot with an ease Helena never grew into. “He was tired for the first few days, but now it’s like a broken arm. Uncomfortable but not so painful.”

“How long is it supposed to take to heal?”

Isabel casts a suspicious eye her way as if she can anticipate the date of Helena’s return flight adjusting already, but answers, “they say 6 to 8 weeks. It’s for the bone to heal, mostly, in his back. The rest should be sooner.”

Helena broke her wrist years ago, when the kids were nearly teenagers, and it was three months of hell trying to manage a household one handed while Ramon spent most of that time travelling across Texas.

Who’s helping him? Is Carla back in the picture? Is she working overtime? How can he afford that on sick leave? Is Pepa or one of the cousins going over? Is his girlfriend there? Who’s helping with Christopher? How is he managing?

The questions — all genuine and well-meaning, all a shade too accusatory — are on her tongue, pressed to the back of her teeth to keep from escaping. She’s entitled to answers, even if she doesn’t like them. She knows she has the right to at least know how her son is caring for himself and her grandson while he’s injured. If he’d told them when it happened Helena could have been here in a heartbeat to help, but no, Eddie’s just as stubborn as they are, just as prideful. He’d rather suffer alone than accept their help. Fine. But she’s still his mother, and Christopher’s grandmother. She raised them both. She has a right to—

Mom, listen…

Helena takes a deep breath in, anchors herself in the mixed scents of the rich sauce and the sweet bread cooking, and breathes out. Isabel sends her another look but says nothing.

————-

Helena cries when she sees Eddie, and cries a bit harder when she sees the apprehension in his eyes. Her baby boy looks a bit pale, but he’s standing on his own two feet and answering the door himself.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmurs, wrapping him gently into her arms, mindful not to press into the sling or his back.

“Hi, mom,” he says quietly, like he’s trying to gentle the stiffness in his voice.

She releases him, but not before pressing three kisses into his temple, always three. One for each of her kids.

Ramon steps into the space she leaves when she continues into the house and from the corner of her eye, she sees him cup the back of Eddie’s head and take a good look at him. For Ramon, it’s the equivalent of collapsing to the floor in tears.

Helena quickly toes off her boots and makes room at the entrance for the others behind her, which also puts her first in line to catch a sight that nearly knocks her down.

“Who is this young man I see?” she cries, throwing her hands wide to gesture at her grandson. “Last I saw you, you were just a little tyke. Now look at you, you must have grown three feet!”

Christopher giggles and Helena smiles in return as she folds him into her arms, but it’s forced. She’s not lying — he’s grown so much more than she expected. She hasn’t seen him in person since Eddie’s graduation and while video chats are priceless, they didn’t capture this growth spurt.

She can’t believe she let this happen. That she went from spending most of everyday with this little boy and now she’s missed out on two years of his life. Can’t believe Eddie kept him fro—

Mom, listen...

Supper goes well enough. Eddie never truly shakes loose the tension in his shoulders; he trades many looks with Isabel, seemingly spooked by his parents’ behaviour. He talks a lot more than he usually does, probably out of nervousness. But overall, they let Christopher take the reigns; they’re all more comfortable with that. It’s been too long since they’ve last spoken and Christopher is full of stories about his school and his friends.

“Buck says we can go to the Griffin soon. It was closed because of COVID. But before, I went with my class and they made a comet right in front of us!”

Buck. It’s the third time his name has been dropped at the table since they sat down.

She first met him, briefly, at Eddie’s graduation, but didn’t really register him as someone in her son’s life until Eddie and his crew stopped off in El Paso for dinner on their way home from fighting Texas wildfires. Buck had been cropping up in Christopher’s and Eddie’s stories for months by then and she was curious to properly meet him in person. He had seemed...young, she remembers.

“The Griffith Observatory,” Eddie corrects fondly. With Christopher, at least, it’s impossible for him not to soften.

Eddie’s only eaten half the pasta on his plate but Isabel seems satisfied. Helena bites down on the impulse to encourage him to eat more. To remind him he needs his strength to heal quickly for his little boy. She does lift the basket of garlic bread in his direction, because she can’t help herself. He eyes the basket warily as though he expects her to do more, but when she doesn’t, he shakes his head with a small smile of thanks.

“Yeah,” Christopher agrees, “it was cool but we didn’t get to stay long enough to see everything. And if we go later, Buck says we can see real meteors in the sky.”

Fourth mention.

“Christopher is on an astronomy kick,” Eddie adds redundantly.

“Wait, I gotta show you —” Christopher is sliding out of his seat before anyone can stop him and racing down the hall to his bedroom.

“Oh, honey —” Helena grips the arms of her chair out of reflex to jump up and help him — he doesn’t have his crutches, he’s only using the wall for support and he’s wearing socks — but Eddie looks over when her chair creaks.

He can’t really expect her to just sit here while Christopher—

Mom, listen…

They can hear Christopher make it to his bedroom without injury, so Helena slowly settles back in her chair and Ramon clears his throat. “He seems...okay. More okay than I would have expected.”

Eddie keeps his eyes on his father for a beat too long, assessing the comment for any hidden messages.

“He’s a resilient kid. Buck stayed here with him while I was in the hospital, so his routine wouldn’t get messed up. I think that helped a lot.”

Fifth ment— wait.

“Buck stayed with him?” The words — the tone — are out of her mouth before Helena can stop them.

On the shortlist of people she expected to hear stayed with her grandson to watch him and care for him, alone, while his father was in the hospital — Isabel, Pepa, Carla, or even Ana — Buck’s isn’t a name she expected to hear. A coworker — an unrelated man with no children of his own, over Christopher’s family? Over Christopher’s own aide? Over a schoolteacher?

Eddie’s jaw squares up and he sits up in his chair. Like light gray rain clouds suddenly turning dark, weighty with an incoming storm, a heavy tension builds in the air between them.

“Look!” Christopher exclaims as he rounds the corner, nearly throwing a thin, blue hardcover book on the table. Eddie catches it before it can slam into Christopher’s leftover pasta and sets it down on the table for him. “It shows all the things we can see in the sky over the whole year!”

Christopher climbs back into his chair and opens the book up to a random page, describing everything he seems to have nearly memorized already. By the time he reaches the upcoming meteor shower, the tension at the table has dissipated enough for Helena to excuse herself to the bathroom and not have it come off like a passive aggressive storm-off.

She washes her hands with soap pumped out of a fish-shaped dispenser that wasn’t here the last time she visited and trains her eyes on the basket of gauze, scissors and tape tucked away on the shelf above the toilet. That wasn’t there last time either.

Her baby boy was shot by a sniper. In LA.

A bullet tore through the body she created and almost took her son from her forever.

Mom, listen...

But only after she’d almost pushed him so far away he might never come back.

The tears well up again and she sniffs through them, blinking up at the ceiling until she’s back under control.

As she pivots to turn the light off, she spies a purple toothbrush resting on the ledge just above the sink. The other two toothbrushes are electric — one adult-, one child-sized — and stand on the counter.

—————-

Helena and Ramon meet the infamous Ana by accident.

When they leave Eddie’s house on Friday, Helena sends a text message to say what she couldn’t manage to say to his face — that they’re here for him, in whatever capacity he needs, that they’ll take their cues from him, even if that means giving him some space.

To that, she receives a, Thank you.

When she asks for the contact information of the therapist he had scoped out for them, she gets a phone call.

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth,” her son says, “but are you just doing this because I got shot?”

“Honestly? Yeah,” she laughs mirthlessly. “I’m sorry to say it took our baby boy nearly dying to get our heads out of our ass.”

Eddie huffs a laugh on his end. “Well, I’ll take that silver lining.”

After that, Eddie invites them to a restaurant for brunch on Sunday, but when they reach his doorstep, they find it already occupied by a woman who’s just rung the doorbell, holding a casserole dish in her hands.

When the door opens, Eddie takes in the three of them, his eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Ana, I wasn’t expecting you,” he says, his eyes darting over her shoulder to his parents. He’s smiling, though there’s a clear strain in the corners of his eyes and mouth. They’ve been critical about Shannon for so long — and with good reason, nothing will change Helena’s mind on that — no doubt he’s expecting them to hate this new woman on sight.

“You’re Ana!” Helena exclaims with a wide smile, imbuing her voice with as much welcome as she’s capable. “Hi! It’s so good to finally meet you!”

When Eddie releases the breath he was holding, she knows she was on the mark. Ramon follows her lead and invites Ana to brunch with them on the spot and won’t hear her protests about intruding.

Eddie, of course, doesn’t protest at all but invites them in so Ana can store the casserole in the fridge — it takes both Ana and Helena’s organizational skills to find a spot for it among Isabel’s and Eddie’s tupperwares already invading all available space — and he can finish getting ready. He was already dressed in a nice polo and jeans but when he comes back from his bedroom it’s in a smart button-down he must have struggled with out of sheer stubbornness. Both his parents and his girlfriend are in the house and still he didn’t ask for help.

Eddie and Christopher decide to hop into Ana’s car and Helena asks loudly for directions to keep Ramon from insisting they should all ride together.

“So how long have you kids been seeing each other now?” Ramon asks when they’ve been seated at the restaurant.

“Nearly 7 months now, I think, isn’t it?” Ana replies, looking at Eddie with a dazzling smile — she truly is gorgeous. Eddie was still talking to them when he started dating her so they know she’s a schoolteacher turned vice principal but to meet her in person blows all their other expectations out of the water. She’s lively and sweet, patient and understanding, Latina — a big plus in Ramon’s books ironically. Eddie picked well this time.

Eddie hesitates a moment and nods. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Every now and again, he squirms in his chair, like he can’t quite settle in and Helena wonders when his last painkiller was taken. But when he catches her face, she smoothes her worry out into a cheeky smile that says I like this one. He smiles back and there’s nothing she can pinpoint exactly but something about it makes her uneasy.

Eddie’s too quiet as they wait for their food, his face pinched, and just when Helena’s about to break, Ana does her the favour of asking gently, “Are you feeling okay? Do you need to take anything for your arm?”

But Eddie shrugs off her concern. “No, thank you. Next one isn’t until noon.” He taps his phone twice and she smiles.

“Sorry, I forgot. He’s got them all on timers with a special ringtone. He’s so organized,” she tells Helena and Ramon with a sunny smile, rubbing her hand down his good arm. “I have one multivitamin and I forget to take it half the time.”

“Buck set it up,” Eddie defers, and Helena schools her face not to react; even at brunch Buck is with them in spirit.

Ramon either takes no issue with the mention or doesn’t register it. He takes the opportunity to share how his new pharmacy pre-packages his heart and arthritis medications into AM and PM slots and Ana listens attentively. Eddie’s fingertip taps absently against the phone case until their food arrives.

Christopher ordered a waffle, and with Eddie indisposed, Helena is already moving to help him when Ana beats her to the punch again. Helena tucks a smile away as Ana leans over and starts cutting the waffle up into smaller pieces.

“He can do that,” Eddie says when he notices Christopher sitting back in his chair, realizing only when Ana startles that his tone is sharp. His voice is softer when he follows up with, “Right, buddy?”

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, picking up his own cutlery with enthusiasm despite his hands being nearly too small for them.

Eddie throws an apologetic grin Ana’s way and brunch continues peacefully, though the stiff line of Eddie’s shoulder never does quite soften.

Mom, listen…

————-

Their first therapy session takes place in Isabel’s kitchen at Eddie’s request. Isabel thinks it’s so he has the option of leaving when he needs to (in other words, when he gets fed up and runs) but Helena hasn’t missed how Eddie has been careful to keep them away from his home since the first day they saw him.

They’ve seen Eddie and Chris numerous times in the week and change they’ve been in LA — more than they’ve seen them since they left El Paso — but always outside of the house. Sometimes they pick Chris up from school, sometimes Eddie and Chris come to Isabel’s for supper, sometimes they go out to restaurants or other outings, but they haven’t been invited back to his home again. She wanted to believe it was because he was hiding the news that Ana had moved in but that’s been shot out of the water both by her ringing the doorbell and an errant comment at the end of brunch about how she hadn’t seen him since the welcome home party.

So it’s out of pettiness, then. Stubbornness. Out of pig-headed inability to accept that he needs help and willingness to believe that they’re making an effort to meet him on his own terms.

She tries not to let it rankle her, tries to find some of that resolute commitment to letting things be and not push. But the next thing she knows, she’s yelling about it to a stranger at Isabel’s island counter.

To be fair, the session with Dr. Jamieson wasn’t going great to begin with. It’s awkward as hell, the three of them balancing on stools, squished in next to each other to try to fit into the screen, but also trying to keep the laptop close enough to still hear her and not have to shout. It’s happening while Chris is at school so they don’t have to worry about keeping him distracted but they can’t exactly ask Isabel to go wait in the LA sun for an hour so she doesn’t overhear, so it’s basically a given that she’s the fourth person on this virtual couch from the next room over.

And beyond that, Helena has kept her mouth shut for over a week which is frankly more time than anyone would have bet on, including herself, and given the opportunity to express herself freely...well…

“You want space? We’ve given you nothing but space since we got here. How much more can we give you, Eddie? You’re hundreds of miles away from us already. Forgive us for feeling the need to check in on our only son who almost died last week,” she yells, her hand nearly colliding with her coffee mug as she gestures.

“Last week?” Ramon echoes with a bark of dark laughter.

“Oh, no, that’s right,” Helena picks up. “I’m sorry! Not a week ago! Nearly a month ago! Because apparently we don’t warrant even a text when our only son almost dies, but that’s not enough space?”

Eddie rakes his fingers aggressively through his hair, his lips pursed.

“We have to move to Mexico,” Ramon continues blithely. “Is that enough space? No, better yet! Sweden! Your family still lives out there, no? We can live on their farm. Completely different timezone, we won’t even be reachable.”

“Yeah,” Eddie bites back, a sour grin blooming on his face, “that’s what I want. I ask you to give me some breathing room — to respect me, my life — and you translate that into living in a fucking commune in Sweden. And you wonder why we’re in therapy. I can’t talk to you, you don’t listen!”

Mom, lis—

“Listen to what, Eddie?” Helena yells, getting out of her seat to pace. “Listen to the months of silence you’ve sent our way? Because we either get on board and blindly cheer on every mess you get yourself into or we don’t get to know you anymore? Don’t get to know our grandson?”

“I never kept him from you — you have our number, the phone didn’t ring. That’s not on me.”

“Because you would have picked up?” Ramon exclaims, pushing away from the island to better look back at their son. “Easy to claim when it’s after the fact in front of the doctor.”

“So now I’m a liar! You raised a liar?”

“I think we’ve gotten off-track,” Dr. Jamieson’s tinny voice interjects from the laptop.

In the bottom right hand corner of the screen, only Eddie remains in the frame.

————

Firehouse 118 was a lively crowd at Eddie’s graduation but it’s nothing compared to the party thrown at the Grant-Nash house in honour of a new probationary firefighter.

Dr. Jamieson pointed out the self-fulfilling prophecy that Eddie protecting himself from criticism and pressure by withholding details about his life in LA was leading to his parents’ growing insecurity over not knowing anything about their son and feeling the need to intervene more and more.

The solution? Let them in on his life and trust that they could hold themselves in check.

For that, even Ramon was in agreement that maybe therapy wasn’t a load of shit after all.

So here they find themselves welcomed into this beautiful and loud home nearly three weeks into their stay in LA. They were allowed to pick Eddie and Chris up so they arrive together but Christopher peels off immediately to find kids his own age.

It’s impossible not to feel the warmth of family radiating from every inch of the home so when Eddie’s shoulders seem to loosen a little as they walk in, Helena can’t find it in herself to begrudge him.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman around Helena’s age drawls, crowding into Eddie’s space for a delicate hug he doesn’t hesitate to return. “Though I could have done without seeing another one of these for a few hundred more years,” she says, gesturing to the sling. “How much longer?”

“Another month if everything checks out,” Eddie says, releasing a sigh.

“It better,” she warns with a twinkle in her eye that says if she learns he’s been aggravating his injury there will be hell to pay.

The woman, they find out, is Athena Grant-Nash, wife of the 118’s captain and consummate host. While Eddie splits off “for a minute”, she leads them to the main area for drinks and introductions before leaving them to mingle. Captain Nash — Bobby — meets them with appetizers and introduces them to the Lees, the de-facto parental figures of the young man who just joined the team.

From the spot she claims at the edge of the dining room, Helena keeps an eye trained on Eddie outside. She feels an itch under her skin knowing it’s been nearly twenty minutes and Eddie hasn’t checked on Christopher, but she knows she shouldn’t go herself. Eddie can do everything on his own, right? He can look after his own kid at a party.

She can, however, go to the washroom and take a peek at what Christopher’s up to while she’s wandering, and that’s exactly what she intends to do.

But for now, she watches as Eddie criss-crosses through the crowds of the patio, prompting a localized burst of cheers at each stop as he reunites himself with teammates he hasn’t seen since the shooting. She recognizes the woman who was on the trip to Texas but the rest conjure only the vaguest memories of Eddie’s graduation and the occasional picture on Instagram — before he stopped posting that is. Just one more way they’ve been iced out.

But he seems happy, almost carefree in a way she realizes she hasn’t seen with her own eyes in...longer than this trip, actually.

Probably years, if she’s honest.

And it occurs to her, slowly, creepingly, that her son is outside, smiling freely and easily, surrounded by people he’s made his new family, while Helena stands inside watching his life through a glass window in a stranger’s house.

Mom, listen…

She swallows past the lump in her throat and sighs. Ramon’s arm comes around her waist and without looking at him, she knows he’s had a similar revelation.

Their next therapy session is in a few days, and they’re not going to fuck it up again.

There’s a late arrival to the party, one of the only people in Eddie’s life she can recognize — Buck. He’s as tall as she remembered but he looks a shade less young now maybe. He greets everyone with a hug or kiss on the cheek as he moves through the party, and bestows a cheer and an enthusiastic hug on Albert, the guest of honour.

When he moves on to the patio and approaches Eddie’s circle, however, the cheerful, long-awaited reunion of best friends she expects doesn’t happen. They catch each other’s eyes for a few beats and share a welcoming smile, then the conversation resumes as if nothing of consequence has happened. Buck doesn’t even linger long, heading back into the house after a few minutes.

When the cake starts being doled out, Eddie returns to meet them at the table and accepts the plate Helena offers him. Helena is scouting the yard for a chair he can sit on to eat when Buck reappears.

“He couldn’t be pulled away?” Eddie asks in surprise.

“Nope,” Buck replies with a grin before turning to them. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. Good to see you again!” Before they can return more than a smile, Buck continues, “he’s cheating at Unicorn Temple with Harry. Not even cake can pull him away.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smiles. “My son is not a cheater.” To them, he says, “Buck thinks that whenever he’s losing at a video game, it’s because his opponent is cheating.”

“Not always! Just when they are,” he replies with exaggerated emphasis before scooping a piece of cake onto a plate. “I’m gonna go hide this in the fridge for him for later before it’s all gone.”

Eddie ducks his head and smiles down at his plate, and the questions are building up behind Helena’s teeth again.

Christopher’s been playing video games all this time? Is it an age-appropriate game? Why is Buck checking on your son? Why is Buck saving him cake when nobody asked him to? Why—

But Eddie looks up with an uncertain expression and says, “there’s a table out there if you guys want to join me.”

So Helena stows her questions and says, “that’d be great.”

They eat the overly-sweet cake in peaceful silence until Ramon casts an eye around and says, “you must be glad about the new firefighter. You won’t be the baby on the team anymore.”

Eddie snorts. “I’m 33 and my kid is nearly a teenager — and that’s totally not freaking me out at all,” he adds wryly. “Besides, I was never the baby of the team. Buck is younger than me and forever a kid at heart so I was never in any danger of it.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me that Christopher’s growing up,” Helena only half-jokes. “I can still barely believe he’s old enough to hold his own head up.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and Helena banks it as a win.

“Do any of your coworkers have teenagers?” Ramon asks. “Might have some words of wisdom to share.” Since you won’t ask us, is unspoken and politely ignored by all.

“Athena’s daughter May is just leaving the teen years now, but after her, Christopher’s the oldest. Harry, Athena’s son is 9 and Denny, Hen and Karen’s son just turned 8. It’s great for play dates but not for getting advice on what’s coming up unfortunately.”

“Karen,” Ramon echoes.

Eddie’s fork pauses on its way to scoop some excess icing off his cake and his back straightens.

“Hen’s wife,” he says curtly, daring.

Helena wants to roll her eyes at the posturing. It’s 2021, who cares who anybody loves. She knows Ramon doesn’t, not really, not anymore. It’s a 50-year-long reflex to make a comment, one they’ve been working, if only to have some semblance of a civil conversation with Sophia while she works through a degree in women and gender studies.

But she knows that excuse isn’t going to fly with Eddie.

It hasn’t flown since Eddie was 20 years old and realizing he’d lost a good friend to his father’s caustic words. And Helena can’t ever go back and examine the hurt in Eddie’s expression with fresh eyes. Shemanages to forget about it most of the time until something happens to dig it out of the cold, hard ground and shove it in her arms.

Mom, listen...

But she’s come to LA because she wants to be in her son’s life, in her grandson’s life and she can’t be a coward now.

“They’re a gorgeous couple,” she says, almost too loudly in her enthusiasm. “Are they thinking of having more kids?”

Eddie turns his assessing eyes to her and is mollified by her effort. “Yeah, they’re foster parents now. They’ve fostered three kids so far.”

“That’s great,” she says sincerely. Then, accidentally on purpose and only in part to bring Ramon back to a safe topic, she asks, “Does Ana want a large family?”

Eddie sees through her attempt, but nods. “Yeah, she loves kids.”

Helena doesn’t miss Ramon’s approving nod, or the dark look that passes over Eddie’s eyes when he catches it.

“Was Ana not able to come tonight?” Ramon asks.

“I didn’t ask her,” he answers, his voice a shade too casual. “This is more of a team thing.” As if they hadn’t just been discussing the other families all around them.

“That Ana—” Ramon begins but is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher with a hint of blue icing on his nose and Buck following behind him with two paper plates filled with cake.

Christopher sits backwards on the picnic table bench and uses his arms to lift his legs over while Eddie watches but doesn’t offer to help, and when Christopher is set, Buck places one of the plates in front of him with a plastic fork stuck in the top like a flag.

“Buck was finally able to pull you away, mijo?” Eddie asks as Christopher digs in.

“No, May took her room back so we can’t play on her tv anymore. Harry’s gonna ask his mom if we can play in her room.”

“Yeah...” Buck draws out, sharing a dubious expression with Eddie over Christopher’s head, “I wouldn’t hold out for that, bud.”

“Maybe you can teach the others how to play Scrabble!” Eddie suggests.

Christopher’s nose wrinkles, “Scrabble is boring.”

“Hey!” Buck protests and takes a forkful of Christopher’s cake in retaliation, which prompts Christopher to yell and attack Buck’s cake back, taking much more than a forkful.

The commotion draws attention to their table and Helena’s gearing up to tell Christopher to settle down when she catches Eddie’s eyes on her, waiting.

Helena looks back out to the backyard to say, People are staring.

Eddie looks back impassively as if to say, Let them.

Mom, listen...

Helena swallows her impatience, her anxiety, her embarrassment.

“Hey,” Buck calls, his mouth half full of icing, “did you take your 6?”

Eddie hesitates and that’s enough for Buck to swallow and look put out, already turning and lifting a leg out of the confines of the picnic table.

“Did you turn off your alarm again?”

“I didn’t turn it off the first time, I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is it woke you up at 6am and you turned it off because sleepy Eddie makes bad life choices.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You don’t have —”

“Right pocket?” Buck interjects, already walking away.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs.

Christopher looks at him and shakes his head with exaggerated disappointment.

“Don’t you start,” Eddie warns, scooping a fingertip of icing and dabbing it on his son’s nose too quickly for him to duck.

Christopher shrieks and reaches for his cake fingers-first.

“Oh no, no,” Eddie laughs, catching Christopher’s fingers with one hand. “Truce, truce.”

Christopher doesn’t look interested in a truce and Eddie’s other arm is in a sling, so Ramon quickly pulls the cake out of Christopher’s reach, and then Buck’s abandoned piece and Helena does the same with Eddie’s.

“Not fair!” Christopher cries, still reaching.

“Your dad’s hurt, mijo, you can’t attack him with icing while he’s healing,” Ramon says reasonably. “Wait till he’s all better.”

“He’s fine!” Christopher declares with the confidence of a trauma surgeon as he tries to climb up on the bench.

Eddie’s not in a position to pull him back down and Helena doesn’t know how far they can take their non-interference but she’s not about to let her grandson hop over a table to fall into three plates of cake. She’s half-decided she’s going to pick up the cake and walk it back inside when Buck returns, depositing a glass of water on the table and a small white pill into Eddie’s palm before swooping in and tickling Christopher’s sides.

He shrieks loudly, gaining looks from all around the backyard, but it gets his butt back down on the bench and Buck sits back down next to him, boxing him in between himself and Eddie.

“What happened to our cake? How’d it get all the way over there?” The plates are very easily within Buck’s reach; it’s a question for Christopher’s benefit.

“Dad got me like you did!” Christopher cries indignantly, pointing to his nose. “I’m getting him back!”

“Oh man,” Buck nods seriously before his finger darts forward, swipes the icing from his nose and brings it to his mouth. “Mmm, this is better than the one I got you with. You sure you don’t just wanna eat it?”

Christopher looks unconvinced.

“How about this?” Buck ducks down to whisper loudly. “You call a truce with your dad, and then I’ll steal all his icing and we’ll eat it.”

The icing on Eddie’s cake is mostly piled in a corner of his paper plate. He’s never been able to stomach the pure sugary sweetness of store bought icing.

“Okay,” Christopher nods back, reaching out again for his plate but without making grabby hands.

Ramon assesses him for a moment before taking the chance to push the plates back within reach.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck calls deliberately. “You should take your medication now.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie replies with a smile that conveys an eyeroll. “I’ll do that now.”

While Eddie pops the pill and takes a very long drink of water, Buck “sneakily” pulls his plate towards them and scoops all the piled icing onto his own plate before pushing the cake back to Eddie’s side of the table.

Christopher laughs and pushes Eddie’s plate an extra few inches away out of spite.

Eddie plays the disappointed victim passably well with a half-hearted gasp and a shake of his head. “You little thieves.”

As promised, Buck doles out some of Eddie’s icing to Christopher who immediately protests at the amount left on Buck’s plate.

“Hey, when you’re a big guy like me, you get more icing. Keep eating your proteins and you’ll get there in no time.”

Christopher accepts that easily enough. “I’m gonna be tall like dad.”

Buck scoffs, “Aim higher, kid. Literally.”

“I am barely two inches shorter than you,” Eddie laments, not for the first time, it sounds like.

“It’s practically three. Are you really going to lie in front of your parents?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, is on Helena’s tongue because it’s been hours since she could speak her mind, but she holds it in.

“How was the trip from Texas?” Buck asks them suddenly, bringing them back into the fold of a scene they'd never left but somehow stopped being a part of. “Flights have new restrictions on them now, don’t they?”

Mom, listen...

When the party is winding down and they walk outside to the driveway, Eddie surprises them by offering them both a hug.

“Thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, though Helena hears the underlying “and behaving” and can’t help but bristle.

“Thank you for inviting us, mijo,” Ramon says; his turn to save Helena from herself.

And when Eddie lets them know he and Chris will be getting their ride back from Buck, Ramon takes Helena’s hand and they smile almost sincerely as they say their goodnights.

—————-

The next week happens to be Isabel’s 80th birthday and Helena and Ramon keep themselves busy by helping to throw a party that will reunite every vaccinated member of the family in the area (they’re not about to take a chance on Isabel’s health).

Things have been getting better with Eddie. They had a second therapy session, again at Isabel’s island counter, where they lasted a good 25 minutes before devolving into yelling. The next day, Eddie asked Ramon for a ride to physical therapy, and easily accepted his father’s offer of lunch after the appointment.

Then, when Helena asked if she could pick up some groceries for him and Christopher, she was refused — in no small part, she thinks, because he still won’t let them in his house — but instead of going off on him, she channeled that anger and resentment into nearly buying out Costco for Isabel’s party. It felt like progress Dr. Jamieson would be proud of.

That’s why, despite the party officially kicking off around 11am, they’re just past supper time and all tables and counters are still nearly buckling under the weight of the food. They’ll have to send everyone home with leftovers if the flow of people stops. Isabel’s front door has been a turnstile since this morning and Helena knows from experience it’ll likely stay that way until the late hours of the night. Most recently, Helena’s daughters made their appearance, and it’s not at all the reason Helena is back in the kitchen.

Despite coming from opposite ends with different travel distances, Adriana and Sophia arrived within a half hour of each other, a move Helena saw through instantly. The idea that her children coordinated to arrive together instead of risking the possibility of facing their parents alone sets a fire raging in her heart, and she realizes suddenly that she isn’t prepared to be hypervigilant of her every word with all three of her kids here now to push her buttons.

So, she retreats to the kitchen.

She doesn’t expect one of them to follow her in.

“I heard you guys were doing therapy,” Adriana volleys as she approaches.

Helena cracks open the tray of chocolate chip cookies and starts plating them, her face angled down so any kneejerk expression of distaste isn’t as visible. “Apparently, that’s what the cool kids do nowadays.”

“It is,” Adriana agrees, the bangles on her wrists clinking on the countertop as she reaches for the box of oatmeal cookies to plate. She’s a year into her Master’s in communication. What she intends to do with that is a mystery to them. So much of their kids’ lives are a mystery now. Helena closes the lid of the cookie tray hard and relishes in the snap of the plastic groove into the tongue.

“Paying a stranger to tell us when and how to talk to each other is cool,” she bites. It’s not posed as a question, just a bitter acknowledgement.

Adriana is quiet and Helena starts plating mini quiches onto the cookie platter just to stay occupied while her daughter walks away. Sophia is a yeller, she stands her ground and gives as good as she gets. Adriana, however, is a runner, just like Eddie.

But Adriana doesn’t leave in a huff. She turns to the counter and grabs a second platter, moving the mini quiches onto that one.

“It’s cool that you’re open to trying,” she says. “I think that, in any family where there’s love, there’s going to be hurt. And the longer we stay stuck in that hurt, the harder it becomes to talk about it without causing more. We get stuck in patterns that we can’t break out of, and people on the outside can be the best ones to point out those patterns and help you break out of them to get to what you actually, truly want to say.”

Helena knows what she actually, truly wants to say. That’s not the problem. The problem is that none of her kids want to hear it.

“I see a therapist,” Adriana continues. Helena stills and looks at her daughter, calmly arranging the mini quiches into concentric circles. “Since my last year of undergrad. When things got really hard and I couldn’t understand why. They helped me. A lot. Helped me figure out what was wrong and how to get myself through it.”

“You didn’t tell us,” Helena says, her voice thick.

“I know,” her daughter replies simply. “I didn’t know how. I’m telling you now because what I actually, truly want to say is that I’m proud of you and dad for doing this. And maybe if you don’t hate it...maybe we could try a session later too.”

There’s an offer in her daughter’s words, an open hand reaching out. But in that hand, Helena sees her failures as a parent, the judgement of the world for failing her kids, and she doesn’t want to reach her own hand out.

Mom, listen…

Helena looks at her eldest daughter, almost a stranger to her, with an entire life Helena is only starting to realize she has no part in. It hurts — it always hurts when the kids pull away but to realize she didn’t even know the extent of it...she wants to hurt back.

Mom, listen…

But she’s trying so hard to break those patterns Adriana speaks of. So instead, Helena thinks of the therapist’s advice leading them into a piece of Eddie’s life they wouldn’t have otherwise gotten to see and swallows past the indignation in her throat to reach down and find the words she actually, truly wants to say.

“You say when, and I’ll be there.”

———-

The sun is setting when Helena finally agrees to get off her feet and just enjoy the party outside while the cousins take over the serving and cleaning. There are four generations of Diazes gathered around but for the first time ever, most of the cousins are young adults, not teenagers, and it’s nice to be able to pass on the hosting responsibilities to them for a bit.

The sky is clear, the sunset resplendent from Isabel’s backyard, and the conversation is flowing easily. It’s a beautiful evening, warm with a gentle breeze cool enough to let her lean back against Ramon in his lounge chair, one of his arms wrapped loosely around her hip.

For the first time since getting Isabel’s text, Helena feels something like peace wash over her and she almost feels bad for the thrum of vindication in her stomach when she spots Eddie slumped comfortably in an armchair, his legs propped up on another chair.

He’s at home here.

Yes, he was at ease at his captain’s house but this is family, this is where he can really sink into the love and comfort and rest. With his aunts and uncles, cousins and sisters around to take care of him. And Christopher, who spent the afternoon running around and chomping down on all the sugar he could get his hands on, slumped against him, nearly asleep. This is family.

She knows he could find that peace back in El Paso, they both could. Eddie had friends there, and his parents, who knew his son better than he did for most of his life. And there are fires in El Paso same as there are in LA, but less smog, less general insanity.

But Eddie’s a lot like his parents, too much like them maybe, and once he’s decided on a course of action he can’t be swayed. So Helena has made peace with it. Rather, she’s made peace with pretending to be okay with it while she waits for him to come to the realization that he should move back.

And in the meantime, if they can mend this thorniness between them, then maybe she and Ramon can make more of these impromptu trips. Maybe even convince Eddie to come home for Christmas this year. At the very least, go back to regular video chats.

But all that ruminating feels far away right now. She’s moving gently with the rise and fall of Ramon’s chest, and she’s so close to slipping away to the feeling of contentment when a new arrival makes her open eyes she didn’t realize she’d closed.

“Feliz cumpleanos,” she hears someone say in half-decent Spanish from the front door on the other side of the side yard fence.

She doesn’t recognize the voice as yet another cousin or uncle, but Eddie shakes Christopher’s shoulder gently, and says, “hey, guess who’s here.”

It takes a moment, but the words penetrate Christopher’s sleepiness. His eyes pop open and he shimmies out of Eddie’s lap and into his crutches to power walk over to the gate just in time for it to open, admitting Isabel, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a sheepish looking Buck behind her.

“Buck!” Christopher yells.

Buck’s smile widens and he immediately opens his arms. “Hey, superman!”

Buck crouches down and Christopher throws his arms around his neck, crutches and all. When it’s time to break apart, Christopher’s still hanging on and Helena feels a stab of dark vindication at what’s about to happen, and the look Ramon sends her way tells her she’s not alone. Because Christopher is now officially in the double digits, and while he’s always been an independent kid, becoming 10 years old was a big deal for him and his perceived level of maturity, and apparently the year he decided no one was allowed to carry him anymore.

And now Christopher’s tired and in the grip of a powerful sugar crash. He’s not going to suffer any indignities, and Helena knows she should feel bad about not trying to stop Buck. About just watching this play out to see him be rejected. But she wasn’t expecting to see him here, in this safe haven of Isabel’s backyard, in this space for family and loved ones, and it rankles her. It feels like everywhere she turns in LA, she finds him there. And his being here is just another nail in the coffin of Eddie stubbornly refusing to let his parents back into his home. That he would call his friend to this party just to avoid letting them give him a ride…

So she’s a little bitter, a little resentful of the persistent, low-key rejection. Sue her. Eddie has made it clear he doesn’t want them interfering anyway so this is on him.

“Christopher,” Eddie calls, a warning to not make a scene.

Buck looks over Christopher’s shoulder and smiles. “He’s fine,” he says.

Then he’s heaving Christopher’s body up into his arms and onto his hip and Christopher…

...Christopher slumps down over Buck’s shoulder like a baby koala. No sound of protest leaves his lips. His face, if it shows any displeasure, is hidden behind Buck’s neck.

And when Eddie gets up, it’s not to intercede, it’s only to grab the errant crutches before they hit something, and to pull his own armless chair out for Buck to sit on because apparently Buck is staying, and apparently Christopher is staying with him.

“He’s a bit old to be carried around, no?” Ramon says with a bite, because he can’t help himself.

Eddie, who’s been watching his son fondly, barely bats an eye. “He gets cuddly when he’s tired, and Buck’s nearly the only one left who’s big enough to carry him.”

“Ah, that’s why you spend so much time developing these,” Pepa says with a sly smile as she pinches at Buck’s bicep. The same familiar pinch she gave her own grandkids’ cheeks.

“Gracias a Dios,” Isabel adds meaningfully.

“That was adrenaline,” Eddie dismisses with a teasing grin.

“That was 100 squats and 50 pushups a day,” Buck returns blithely. “...and maybe a little adrenaline.”

“What’s this?” Ramon asks before she can.

Instead of prompting more teasing, the mood falls slightly and everyone looks to each other.

Finally, Eddie sighs. “When I got shot, Buck army crawled under a ladder truck to get me out and lifted me into the truck to get to the hospital.”

It strikes Helena suddenly, shamefully, that in the shock of finding out they’d missed the event itself, the hospital stay, and two entire weeks of healing, that they’d never circled back around for details on what actually went down the day it happened.

She never thought to wonder how he got off that street. How he got to the hospital. Who might have saved his life.

And she wishes she were a better person then. Wishes that learning Buck saved her son’s life overpowered her irritation at having him sitting here in Isabel’s backyard like he belonged here when Helena herself barely felt like she did herself. It does help, though.

“They released the street footage of the shooting,” Pepa continues quietly. “It’s on YouTube. Before I even knew it happened, Marguerita from church just sent me a link saying ‘they said it’s a Diaz, do you know him?’ and I saw.”

The idea of her son’s shooting being passed around like a cat video makes Helena sick, but Pepa lamenting how she hadn’t known when she learned about it in a matter of hours and sat on it for weeks…

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Pepa says decisively. “But they have an angle where you can see our Buck here go and get Eddie, pick him up like he doesn’t weigh a thing and get him into the truck to get to the hospital. Probably why he’s alive today. So gracias a Dios for those squats.”

Eddie and Buck are both looking away, both looking safely at Christopher while the table digests the news.

“If you were looking for a story of something really dumb, I can point you in the direction of another video of Buck,” Eddie says, his tone jovial but his eyes strained.

“You need to let that go,” Buck says in a definite whine.

“Do I?” Eddie asks. “Abuela did you see the video of the firefighter who went up the crane all alone?”

“Dios mío, Buck,” Pepa laments.

“Did you send it to me?” Abuela asks her, pulling out her phone and her glasses to check.

“No, mamá, it was an idiot firefighter but I didn’t realize it was the one we knew.”

“In the middle of an all-out declaration of war on firefighters,” Eddie begins, quietly for Christopher’s sake, but impassioned, sitting up in his chair, “this idiota and his squat count climbed up a crane ladder, completely exposed and defenseless—”

Buck looks pained. “I was wearing a bulletproof vest and a helmet. And that’s the job sometimes—”

“The paramedics’ job, actually, which you aren’t. So, no, that wasn’t the job.” Eddie’s tone edges into something darker without his meaning to. He takes a drink of his lemonade looking for all the world like he wished it was a beer. “And you know that or I wouldn’t have found out about it from Chim a month after the fact.”

Helena clenches her jaw tight and squeezes Ramon’s hand even tighter so neither of them can say, So you have a problem being left in the dark too?

“Buck,” Isabel sighs with disappointment.

Buck winces. “It was before— ” He cuts himself off, his wide eyes darting towards Helena and Ramon of all people.

“Hmm,” Isabel answers noncommittally, as if to end the conversation.

Just then, Sophia brings out a platter of bite-sized desserts, making the rounds of the whole circle for people to pick at before leaving it on the table. The opportunity to move on is there. That doesn’t mean they’re interested in taking it.

“Before what?” Ramon asks, his tone is forcibly casual.

The silence that greets Ramon’s question is heavy. Guilty. When Helena casts her eyes around, she’s greeted by stiff shoulders and a mix of apprehension shared between her son, her mother- and sister-in-law, and Buck.

Mom, listen...

“Before what?” Helena repeats, her voice uncompromising.

———-

The fight they have in Isabel’s guest bedroom is a Hall of Famer. It’s a screaming match, no doubt about it. The doors from the bedroom to the yard are all closed but there’s no question every member of the family — and Buck — can hear every word.

“Do you really hate us that much?” Helena demands. She’s crying but she doesn’t know if it’s heartbreak or fury, she just wishes it’d stop so she could lean into her anger. “Genuinely, honestly, Eddie.”

“I don’t hate you,” he protests, keeping his own voice down, making it seem like they’re irrational for their anger.

“Bullshit,” she spits.

“You must!” Ramon adds. “You hate us so much that you have to hate your sisters too? Your cousins? You would rather leave your only son to a stranger, some gringo coworker, than with family? That’s how much you hate us? Hate our name?”

“Our name?” Eddie shoots back incredulously. “What are you talking about, our name? We’re not royalty, papi, and Chris’ name would never change.”

“You would leave him to your coworker,” Helena stresses, disgust dripping from her tongue.

“To my best friend,” Eddie retorts, “who Christopher adores, if you haven’t noticed. And who adores Christopher right back.”

“That’s not normal, mijo,” Ramon warns.

“Jesus christ,” Eddie seethes. “Please do not star—”

“What kind of single adult man bonds with another man’s child like that?”

“You’re describing a tío, you understand that right? What, you think it’s weird that Pepa loves me like her own? You think Sophia should stay away from Chris too?”

“That’s family,” Helena argues.

“And they’re women!”

“Ramon, shut up,” Helena snaps.

“Buck is our family, and he’s a man, and he’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. If anything happened to me, Christopher would be taken care of like if I was still here.”

“Buck, the one who nearly got him killed in the tsunami? That’s the same guy right?” Ramon throws out, his eyes a little wild as he paces.

“The one who saved his life in that tsunami, despite being injured and then some. And the one who’s saved my life more times than I can count, including from being gunned down on the street. We’d both probably be dead if not f— ”

“Isn’t he the one who’s family is worse off than ours?” Helena recalls. “So he has no family, no support, no girlfriend even! So a worse position than you’re in now. That’s what you want to leave him with.”

“He doesn’t need a girlfriend to raise Christopher right, I don’t! And he has a great sister, he has the 118, he has Carla, and he has our family. You think Abuela and Pepa would shut the door on him? He’d be here every Sunday, with Christopher, just like I am.”

“And what does your girlfriend think of this?” Ramon presses. “The vice principal, she thinks this is normal?”

“Ana doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Eddie says, frowning.

Helena balks. “You think the woman you’ve been seeing seriously for nearly a year has nothing to do with long-term decisions about your son? You think maybe she wouldn’t want the option of taking Christopher in if something happened to you?”

“That’s not happening, he’s going to Buck and that’s final.”

“What’s going on with you and this gringo?” Ramon asks suspiciously. “Are you even going out with Ana or was that another lie?”

“Ramon, don’t go there,” Helena sighs, her heart clenching. That’s all they need in this clusterfuck, that layer of pain.

“No, let’s go there because you know what?” Eddie asks darkly. “There is no one on this planet I trust with my son more than Buck and yeah, if we need to lay it all out there, that includes the two of you. I know you love Christopher, just like I know Shannon loved him, but that’s not always going to be enough. Buck isn’t going to fill my son’s head with ideas about the wrong kind of way to love someone. He’s not going to tell him he’s not good enough for his family to love him or support him. Buck’s going to make sure Christopher grows up to follow his heart and find whatever makes him happiest in the world, no matter what that looks like.”

“How could you think—”

“What if he grows up to be gay?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring his father down. “You’re telling me you’re going to be the one to help him pick out a suit to go to prom with his boyfriend?”

Ramon purses his lips but tries, “it’s a different world now,” as if he hadn’t just tried to make crass insinuations just to hurt his son.

“Okay,” Eddie says, not believing him for a moment, “what if he’s trans? Tells you at 15 that he’s a girl and he wants to transition. You’re going to get him on hormone therapy?”

“Eddie that’s not—”

“What if he’s 20 and he tells you he got a girl pregnant by accident and he doesn’t know her enough to love her, and he’s not ready to be a father let alone a husband?”

Helena tries to speak but her throat is suddenly too tight for words to get out.

“You gonna tell him he’s not a man if he doesn’t marry her anyway?”

Ramon says nothing.

“Christopher is going to Buck, and that’s final.”

——————-

Helena and Ramon don’t show up for the third therapy session.

Their plane tickets were only for three weeks, originally, and as the days run out, they don’t talk about extensions.

———-

Helena is sitting out in Isabel’s backyard, trying to conjure up that feeling of serenity she got to bask in for all of two minutes the night of the birthday party.

It’s not working.

They’re going back to El Paso tomorrow, leaving their relationship with Eddie in worse straits than when they arrived.

There’s always been a tension between them and Eddie, but there’s also always been love and respect, and that love and respect formed a polite barrier around the things they couldn’t talk about. It kept their relationship safe. Kept them from getting too close to real honesty where things hurt in ways that couldn’t be walked back.

It feels now like that barrier has fallen. That Eddie’s finally reached the limit of what he could hold back and now there’s nothing to help them pretend everything is okay. Nothing to help Helena believe this is all something that could blow over.

That’s to say nothing of Christopher, who’s never felt as far away as he does now, even while they linger in the same city, only a couple dozen blocks away.

Helena scrolls listlessly through her phone’s camera roll for the last few weeks. There are pictures of Christopher mostly, but Eddie and the rest of the family are there too. It hurts to notice how Eddie is markedly happier in the shots where he’s looking away from the camera. Away from her.

Mom, listen…

Helena opens up Instagram and lets herself forget for a moment that anything is wrong. On Instagram, there is only joy and fun. And Buck.

Eddie hasn’t posted anything to his account in months but starting from the end and working backwards, Buck features heavily. He’s in at least a third of the pictures, usually with Christopher. One of the posts includes a short video that she watches. It’s of the day they unveiled the adapted skateboard, and it nourishes her soul. There’s no sadness here, or tension, only pure radiating happiness and excitement. It’s magical.

And it’s meaningful.

Mom, listen…

Helena is out of her chair and pocketing Isabel’s car keys before she can talk herself out of it. The drive to Eddie’s house is made with a carefully blank mind. She knows if she lets herself think about what she’s going to say, she’s going to spiral and get to a place where all this fear and sadness turn dark and ugly, and she can’t afford to risk it.

Finally, she’s knocking gently on a front door she’s only seen three times in the weeks she’s been here.

Buck answers the door.

————-

The house is quiet when Helena steps in.

She doesn’t bother taking her shoes off this time, she’s not sure how long she’ll be allowed to stay. But she notices that the space where her shoes would have gone is taken up by a pair of large boots she imagines fit perfectly on Buck’s feet.

Buck disappears into the living room and she follows quietly after him. The lights are off but the muted tv glows brightly enough for her to see Eddie reclined on his back on the couch, sleeping, and Buck sitting down on the edge of the coffee table to shake his arm.

Eddie’s always been a light sleeper, especially after the army and Christopher. He doesn’t wake easily now.

He’s wearing the sling, but it’s the only indication that anything is amiss with him. There’s no sign of pain or worry on his face, no tension in his shoulders. He’s practically melted into the recesses of the couch. He’s a picture of comfort. And why shouldn’t he be? He’s in his home, away from family, from expectations, and judgements. Just him and Christopher. And Buck.

Eddie finally takes a deep breath that shows his body is coming around but his eyes stay closed. Buck is murmuring something but she only catches, “ — mom — here.”

Then, at last, Eddie’s eyelids part, and the deep laxness of his body disappears almost in the blink of an eye.

“What?” he croaks, already trying to sit up.

Buck’s hands are already moving to support his back.

“ — says she wants to apologize.”

Eddie scoffs and sits upright, feet firmly planted on the floor as he blinks himself awake.

“Mom?”

“I’m here,” she says, stepping closer into the light of the tv.

Buck catches Eddie’s eye and they have an entire conversation in five silent seconds that ends with Buck nodding and getting up from the table, watching Helena warily as she approaches further.

“Watch your eyes,” Buck says quietly to Eddie before flipping the wall switch and illuminating the room. He lingers for a moment, clearly undecided about leaving, before saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Finally, Helena is alone with her son in his home. The quiet is almost peaceful, she doesn’t want to break it. Eddie does instead.

“Buck said you wanted to apologize, so I’m assuming he misheard,” Eddie says wryly.

There are pillow creases on the side of his face and Helena can’t remember the last time she saw him look so disheveled, so at home. It makes her heart ache for the days when she’d have to force him out of bed at noon on weekends, drive him to wrestling practice early in the morning, watch over him as he slept sometimes, just to make sure he was okay.

“Shockingly, no,” she smiles sadly.

Eddie blinks up at her for a moment before shifting down on the couch, leaving her some room to sit. She takes the invitation, but once she’s sitting down with Eddie’s full attention on her, she realizes not preparing what she wanted to say might have been a mistake. She has no idea where to begin. What scab to pick at that won’t cause more bleeding.

Then she remembers Adriana’s words.

What is it, under all the posturing, all the hurt feelings, all the history and baggage...what is it she actually, truly wants to say?

“I’m sorry I missed therapy.”

Eddie huffs a surprised laugh. “Of all the things…”

“I know, I know,” she rolls her eyes. “But I am. I…” She forces herself to slow down and consider her words. “I realize that therapy was an olive branch for you. One we took way too late and I’m...I’m just so fucking grateful we were able to take it at all, in the end.”

The tears are coming and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They gather in the corner of her eyes and she tries to blink them away but has to settle for wiping away the ones that fall anyway.

“You were right,” she says. “You said — and your sister said, and the therapist said — that there’s a lot of hurt, and it’s become too hard to...to connect with each other because of it. And therapy is probably the only bridge through that. So even though I was pissed at you, I should have showed up.”

She hazards a look up at Eddie to find his brown eyes wide and cautiously wondering.

“Therapy is what’s going to help us and the only way to fail at it is to not show up.” It’s what the therapist had said in their first session. It had sounded like an easy thing to do then. “And that’s not okay. I’m not going to do that again.”

Eddie nods and looks away. His fingernails are flicking nervously against each other — a habit he picked up from her. “Is dad on the same page as you?”

Helena takes a deep breath, and blows out, “No, your dad is looking for a match to light the page on fire.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but there’s heavy hurt behind the indifference.

“I hid all of them,” Helena offers, “and left Abuela with the fire extinguisher.”

That gets a small smile.

“I really expected you to be more pissed about it than him,” Eddie says, he reclines against the arm of the sofa but no part of him looks comfortable with this conversation.

“Oh, I am—” The rage swells up in her. The outrage and indignation. But again, Adriana’s voice comes to her. “I...am...really, truly hurt, Eddie. I feel...I feel like you told me I’m not good enough to love Christopher how he needs.”

Eddie’s face collapses with disbelief. “You mean the way you’ve been making me feel since he was born? Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Since the moment Shannon got pregnant, you’ve both been hammering it in on us that we’d never be enough, we’d never be good enough for him. Why do you think I joined the army? Why do you think Shannon ran?”

The accusation makes her breathless, it makes that familiar rage bubble up closer to the surface. “Shannon made her own choices, you’re not going to pin that on us. And so did you.”

“No, I can’t pin that on you. She did choose to leave,” he concedes, his voice hardening. “But you spent five years telling her over and over that nothing she ever did was good enough, and when I got back you did the same to me! ‘Don’t drag him down with you.’ Does that ring any bells?”

“I spent five years helping her, being a second parent to Christopher when she was in over her head. She needed help. She wasn’t cut out—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Eddie agrees. “Neither of us were. We were stupid fucking kids who barely knew each other. She was supposed to get back on a plane to California when the semester was done and instead we got married in the backyard because you told us that’s what we had to do.”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie. You want to blame me for Christopher being born? For raising him in a family with two parents?”

“You’re not listening,” Eddie spits.

“I’m listening to you say over and over how I ruined your life because I didn’t let Shannon get an abortion. And that’s somehow the reason to keep us out of Christopher’s life now?”

“No, you’re not—” Eddie closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “I love Christopher with everything I am. If I had the chance to go back and do everything differently, I wouldn’t. I would never. Being his father is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, I was a kid in over my head and my parents didn’t know what was best for me. Didn’t know how to help me. And I figured that out on my own, I grew up and became the man I am now on my own.” She wants to argue but he’s on a roll. “And that’s fine, no parent is perfect. I know I’m going to make mistakes and I hope to god Christopher can forgive me, so I need to forgive you yours. But I need you to see me, now. I need you to look at me and realize I’m not that kid you put in a suit in the backyard. I’m not the kid that signed up to get shot at instead of facing his life. I’m not that kid anymore, mom. I’m not.”

“I see that, Eddie.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t constantly be telling me I need to move back to El Paso to take proper care of Christopher. You’d see that our lives are here now. I have a job I love and pays what we need. Christopher loves his school, his friends. He’s a popular, genius kid. He’s happy. I’m happy. And we’re doing good. But you don’t see that. You see that dumbass, scared kid making his next mistakes. And I’m sorry but I’m not going to let you drag me back into that spiral. If you need to be the parent to that kid, I can’t be the kid you’re parenting. I’ve grown up, mom.”

“So,” Helena clears her throat, hoping the waver in it will clear too. “That’s what the guardianship is? We...lost sight of you growing up. We didn’t give you what you needed. So you’re punishing us?”

Eddie sighs as if she didn’t understand.

“No, you know what? No, I’m sorry,” she switches tracks, her voice hard, “how are we supposed to see this new person you’ve become, Eddie? You left El Paso, left us behind, you won’t come home for holidays, you even stopped posting on Instagram, and when we come here to see you’re alive you won’t even let us into your home. So how? How are we supposed to see this magical transformation when you won’t let us in?”

Eddie watches her for a moment, weighing his words. “You show up for therapy.”

And that takes the wind out of her sails.

That’s what she came here for.

To apologize.

Not keep yelling.

Mom, listen…

Helena takes two deep breaths and crooks a smile. “Yeah.”

“You yell a lot.”

Christopher’s voice startles them both, pulling a short grunt of pain from Eddie as his shoulder jerks back. Christopher is leaning against the wall into the living room, wearing the disgruntled pout of someone who was woken up for no good reason.

“Christopher…” Eddie begins, trying to leverage himself off the couch.

Helena pushes him back down, and turns to Christopher, opening her arms.

“I do,” Helena admits softly, as Christopher comes over and leans into her side. “I do yell a lot. I’m...trying to yell less.”

“Dad never yells.”

Eddie smiles tiredly.

“Hmm,” Helena agrees, “I think there’s a lot of things I need to learn from your daddy.”

Christopher nods, his eyes drooping. “He’s the best,” he says, snuggling into her shoulder. She’s getting on a plane tomorrow so she takes the opportunity to relish in this hug, and press a long kiss on his curls.

“Ah, I thought I heard an escape artist on the prowl,” Buck says as he turns the corner.

“We woke him up,” Eddie says redundantly. “We’ll keep it quiet now, buddy.”

“K,” Christopher mumbles.

“Okay, buddy, let’s get you back to bed” Buck says quietly as he leans over to carefully scoop him into his arms. Christopher’s arms loop around his neck like he’s done it a million times, and his head falls to Buck’s shoulder.

“Buck’s the best too,” Christopher mumbles.

Buck’s ducks his face away.

“That’s what I hear,” Helena allows in a tone she hopes is gracious.

As they leave, they can hear Christopher say, “they stole your bed.”

Buck responds but it’s too quiet for them to follow the rest of the conversation.

Eddie ducks his head and sighs.

“That’s why you were keeping us away?” Helena asks, her voice more gentle than she thought she could muster at this point. “Because Buck’s crashing on your couch?”

Now that she’s looking, she spots the folded duvet stacked on the chair in the corner, the pillows tucked neatly below. It only makes her more aware that she found Eddie sleeping soundly on the very same couch.

“I didn’t — I didn’t want questions. I didn’t want dad’s look, the same look he has every time Buck comes up. The same look—” Eddie sighs harshly. “I didn’t feel like fielding questions. He was here for Christopher when I was in the hospital and when I came home… He helps. A lot.”

Helena nods pensively, and surprises herself by finding a kernel of gratitude towards Buck burgeoning in her chest.

“So, speaking of fucking up as parents,” she begins with a crooked smile that fades by the end of the phrase. She doesn’t know how to finish that sentence so she starts a new one. “The...hurt that piles up, that makes it hard to talk through...does some of it come from Matty?”

She can see an instinct flare up in her son to shake his head and dismiss the topic, but he doesn’t let it take hold. It’s time to face this.

“It didn’t help,” he admits.

Eddie and Matty met in sixth grade and became best friends almost instantly. They spent weekends in sleepovers, fought off other classmates to be each others’ group project partners, and spent every summer going to the same camps. Matty was an honorary Diaz before they even hit their teens.

Five years later, Matty came out to his family, and then to theirs. His parents took it well, Eddie’s parents didn’t.

The sleepovers stopped, the summer camps stopped, and if Ramon could have sent Eddie to another class he would have.

The day he came out to them was the last day he stepped foot in the Diaz home, a natural consequence of Ramon having run him out with caustic, angry words.

“We…” Helena licks her lips and looks away to gather her thoughts. “There’s a lot of reasons we reacted the way we did. Ignorance, more than anything. It really was a different world back then. But...the world has kept turning, things have kept changing and we can’t pretend to be ignorant anymore.” She looks Eddie in the eye to say, “we were wrong. We were wrong to chase him away. And if the day comes that Christopher is gay or trans or any of the other words we haven’t learned yet, we’re going to love him just as much as we do now.”

Eddie keeps her gaze for a moment before nodding. “I’m glad to hear it.” The way his shoulders gather near his ears says he doesn’t believe her though he’s trying.

Because when Eddie and Matty stood shoulder to shoulder to tell Ramon and Helena the news, Matty wasn’t the only one crushed. And they know, somewhere deep down, that their reaction was as extreme as it was because they were never fully sure if the hurt in Eddie’s eyes was on behalf of his best friend, or if they exploded before more news could be told.

And it still scares Helena to this day, to this very moment sitting on her son’s couch. It’s why they welcomed Shannon at first, the first girl Eddie really brought home, even though they didn’t approve of her overall.

But she knows now that there’s nothing anymore, not her pride, not her ignorance, that will stop her from trying to bridge the gap between them. So she continues deliberately, “and if this new, grown up version of you comes with any of those words, we’re not going to love you any less either.”

His eyes widen and for a moment she’s looking at her 17 year old son in the living room, eyes wide as Matty runs out of the house. She wishes this moment could replace that one, stamp out that mistake forever. But it can’t, so she has to make this one count even more.

“I’ll still be here, and I’m listening. I...I see you,” she says. “You and Christopher. I see you settled in so well here, even now with your injury.”

Eddie remains quiet, but apprehension creeps across his face and his eyes dart behind her where Buck and Christopher disappeared.

“I see the boots at the entrance,” she continues, her voice pitched low, “the extra toothbrush you forgot to hide away. The tupperwares full of food Isabel and Ana didn’t make. But more than anything, I see Buck. Everywhere.” A smile creeps up her lips. “The only place I didn’t see him was at brunch with Ana and call me crazy but I feel like you would have preferred he was there too.”

Eddie’s lip is being chewed to within an inch of its life, and his eyes are trained on the couch cushion.

“Hey,” she taps his knee. “You...grew up to be a good man, and a good father.” The words are so many years too late but she’s grateful to see them land as Eddie’s eyes begin to shimmer. “And you deserve everything you want for Christopher. Happiness, whatever that looks like.”

Eddie swallows thickly and clears his throat. “And dad?”

“Dad...has his head too far up his own ass to see or hear anything,” Helena admits. “But he’s due for a colonoscopy soon so I’ll work on it.”

Eddie chokes on a laugh that catches him off-guard and suddenly they’re both laughing, quietly so they don’t wake Christopher up again.

When they recover, Eddie invites her to the kitchen for a drink, where Buck is packing Christopher’s lunch for school tomorrow.

When she leaves, her stomach is in knots she imagines won’t smooth out for a few weeks yet, but a weight’s been lifted off her chest and her heart is full in a way it hasn’t been in years.

When she lands in El Paso, her phone pings with a message from Eddie: Hope you had a good flight. Free Friday for a call?

———-

When Friday comes, after catching up with Christopher, Eddie tells them he broke it off with Ana.

Helena digs her nails into Ramon’s knee instinctively, but she prepared him well and despite his continued reservations, all he says is, “That’s too bad, mijo.”

———-

Two months of virtual therapy and video chats later, Eddie tells them he’s bisexual. They react the way they should have all those years ago, and Helena tries to be grateful they got to have this moment at all instead of mourn for the years Eddie lost because of them.

There’s no mention of Buck, but Eddie’s eyes flit fondly over the laptop screen every once in a while at Christopher and someone else off-screen.

The call takes place at 8am LA time, and the sling has been gone for nearly three weeks.

———

At Christmas, Eddie and Christopher are waiting for them with smiles on their faces at LAX’s baggage claim. When they get home, Buck is there opening the door and helping them with their luggage.

Isabel isn’t there to mediate but supper that evening goes smoothly. The tension that lurks is anticipatory on all sides, a feeling of this being too good to last. But by dessert, everyone is sitting back in their chairs and smiling. And when Buck rounds the table to start the clean up, he places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, his thumb brushing the back of Eddie’s neck, and Helena watches as the last bit of strain melts out of his body.

The basket of gauze is nowhere to be found in the bathroom, nor is the purple toothbrush. Instead, there’s a third electric toothbrush standing in line with the rest.

Helena’s been keeping an eye out for opportunities to follow Adriana’s advice. To find the words she actually, truly means, and say them before she runs out of time. So before turning in, she takes Eddie aside and tells him, “I’m really happy you found your home here in LA. I’m really proud of the family you’ve made.”

And when she closes her arms around him, she can feel him fold into her like he used to as a kid, no polite distance or anxiety. Just comfort.