#sobbing-space-trash

[sim0nril3y]

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Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: After an incident in your home you made the decision to move in together. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), very soft, talk of break-in, canon-typical swearing.

It was late evening, Simon had just gotten home himself from meeting with Price and Gaz, they met up and caught up on everything they’d missed in each other’s lives. He still couldn’t bring himself to speak about you in front of them, still wanting to keep you a secret, keep you safe from any parts of his life that could put you in danger. He’d kept quiet even when Price spoke about some pretty thing he’d been seeing and when Gaz brought up the posh bird he'd met at a wedding.

He'd asked for you to call when you got home from work, his phone buzzing as he entered his home caught his attention. Smiling, answering and bringing it up to his ear as he asked. “Get home alright-” The words died in his throat as he heard the sounds of your little hiccups and sobs. “What’s happened? Where are you?” As soon as Simon had entered his home, he’d walked straight back out of it in the direction of his car. “I’m on my way…”

The story was that your flat had been broken into whilst you’d been out at work. The place had been completely ransacked, anything valuable was gone, mostly everything else was trashed and destroyed. The lock on the door was completely busted now and ultimately you just felt vulnerable in your own space, it simply didn’t feel safe anymore.

The whole journey to your block of flats Simon was cursing himself. The one night that he didn’t come pick you up from work, the one night he was busy and focusing on himself you’d fucking needed him, you’d been sacred and alone and come back to your flat to find the door kicked open and worried that whoever had gotten in there might still be in there.

He took the stairs to the flat block two or three at a time, chasing up them to get to you. Everyone in the block seemed to be stirring from the police being on the scene, all out to watch this all unfold. You’d been standing outside of your flat allowing the police to look around the small space inside, searching for anything that might have been left behind in the wake of the chaos that had happened inside. Simon approached and wrapped his strong arms around your trembling form, pulling you into his chest and kissing your forehead as he muttered. “I’m here… I’m here…”

He calmed you. He coaxed you into his arms. He silently seethed about whatever little prick had let themselves into your home, your sanctuary and made their way off with your things, your personal items. Simon would hunt them down given the chance but now wasn’t the time to be raging, all his energy needed to be focused on you. “I know, babe. I know.” He muttered quietly, pulled into his arms, warm and safe in his embrace.

Soon enough the police were done, they advised strongly to stay elsewhere for the night, with a busted door and the place already targeted it was more vulnerable than ever. Simon was collecting some of your clothes into a bag whilst you wandered aimlessly around the rest of the small home, pausing for a long moment at your art supplies, kneeling down to inspect the canvas’. It hurt to see them trampled and discarded like this, just completely destroyed by some heartless thug.

“Y’okay?” The small voice of Simon came from behind you, glancing over your shoulder in his direction. You certainly didn’t look alright, you look so vulnerable, so betrayed in your own place. “I know…” He muttered gently, moving towards you to gently kneel down beside you and look at your canvas. “You’ll make better-”

You mentioned. “I’m too tired to do this.” And he understood, you’d just come home from work to find this horrific event had happened. It wasn’t fair and you didn’t need to process these emotions right now. No, right now, he just needed to get you someplace safe where you could rest your head for a few hours and deal with everything else in the morning.

Following that incident it didn’t take long for the two of you to come to the decision that moving in together would be for the best. Honestly, he thought he’d have a little more difficulty taking that step, but with all that had happened the idea of having you live under the same roof as him, having you around all the time, waking up together, simply knowing that you were safe filled him with this sense of relief and completion.

Everything was set into motion from then, you took to cancelling your tenancy on the flat and the process to move you into Simon’s home was put into effect. With all that was left in your flat it didn’t take much to box up all the remaining furniture and items, three or four trips back and forth from the flat to the house was all it took to move everything over. That was it settled; you were living together.

Simon was holding a box labelled ‘art supplies’ stepping past you to head upstairs. “You can just put it in the garage.” You suggested, after having most of your art destroyed the appeal to make anything new wasn’t inside of you, unsure if it was temporary or permanent you boxed your things away for now to deal with at a later time. “S’alright…” He mentioned, continuing to stomp upstairs. “I’ll put it in your art room.” He commented, now this was enough to make your brow furrow.

“What?” You then proceeded to chase upstairs behind him, following him into the spare room and coming to a stop to see Simon had kitted it out with all the supplies that had been destroyed in the break-in, even a new easel facing to look out the window into the beautiful back garden scenery. “This… is for me?”

It had been something that Simon had noticed that you’d been lacking expressing yourself creatively, usually he’d find you holed up creating something new, or working on an old piece… but since the break-in you’d been almost avoiding it. Placing down the box in his hands he replied. “Well, yeah… you don’t think it’s all for me, do ya?” He asked with a raised brow looking at you, a teasing tone to his voice which made you smile subtly. “Can’t put this stuff in the garage, anyway, got my weights down there.” He informed you with a non-committal shrug.

You watched him for a moment before rushing over and wrapping your arms around him, hugging onto him as tight as you could manage. Simon hugged your back, placing a hand on the back of your head and rubbing your back in a soothing way. “Thank you.” You mumbled into his throat. There was so much that you were thankful to him for but allowing you the space to find that creative side to yourself again was something you’d be eternally grateful to him for. “Thank you.”

“S’alright, babe.” Simon replied, kissing the top of your head and holding you securely in his arms. “You’re safe now.” He muttered, probably more to himself that even you. “You’re home.”

Masterlist | Ask | 20-01-2025

[existence-is-a-pain87]

Forsaken Isekai AU be like:

With Eyes I See...

Yandere!Forsaken x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; cults; kidnapping; gore; blood; swearing; dark topics; some more... adult implications (YIPPEE FOR WRITING EXPERIMENTATION. However, young folk please beware, it's not explicit but it's definitely more adult than most things ya should be reading)

Note: This starts off as chill and gets dark in several parts, especially towards the ending. This is a part one in a three part story. Please enjoy

--☆☆☆☆☆--

You don't recall exactly how you died. All you know is you did.

But as you slowly come too, your mind is frazzled with your memories... and someone elses.

Who are you?

Are you two people?

You know so much and yet so little. You don't know what you are.

But one set of memories is clearer. One you feel much more familiar with.

That is you. It has to be.

It must be. You don't know who you'd be if you aren't.

Wherever you are, it's cold. But you sit up, shivering slightly as you realize you're, unfortunately, naked.

What even happened? Did you get assulted? Did you...

No. You don't want to think of what possibly happened.

Looking around this room, it's... weird. Clinical and cold, scientific and empty.

Almost like... a morgue.

You look over at the man talking into a phone, something about "an easy job and then he's done for the day". But when he turns around? When he sees you sitting up, shielding your more private parts with your limbs? When you two lock eyes?

He drops the phone and screams.

You scream too.

...

...

...

...

...

You were pronounced dead an hour ago. Your heart having stopped for a long, long period of time.

You should've been dead. There was no good reason you were alive.

But you were. You were a miracle.

You were now in the hospital, thankfully wearing some scrubs to shield your body and kept in a bed as doctors kept poking and prodding you, astounded how you were alive.

Eventually, though, they pronounced you as stable and allowed visitors. You were told to stay at the hospital for a few days as they made sure your condition remained the way it was.

You had no idea how you were alive. But this was your body. It looked just like you and had your exact name. And you ignored the less familiar memories, thinking that your brain damage just added those memories into your skull.

But as the door to the room you were staying in slammed open, and two loud people almost stormed in, being told to quiet down almost immediately by the doctors.

...

You don't know these people.

--☆☆☆--

You knew their names. How did you know their names?

The one who was clearly worried was Noob. The one who seemed a little more frustrated was Guest 666.

...those unfamilar memories were real.

You wormed into someone else's life. You replaced them.

You're a parasite.

"-kay?!"

You flinch as you hear what they're saying and the ringing stops.

"Jeez [Y/N], listen to us!" Guest 666 snaps at you, grimacing, "Are you okay?! How are you even-?!"

You just stare, processing as Noob quickly hugs you.

"Please let this be real," They beg you, "Please don't let this be some cruel joke. Please be okay... please..."

You have memories of them. Being best friends.

Those memories aren't yours.

You just hesitantly hug them back, somehow knowing them perfectly while not knowing them at all.

"It's not," Your voice sounding like both your own and someone else's, "I'm really here."

Noob just sobs a bit, and Guest 666 tears up and hugs you too.

As the doctors tell them to give you space, as they just cry in your arms, as tears silently drip from your eyes...

You feel horrible. You feel like trash. Living, breathing trash.

You replaced these two's friend.

But worse of all, you're somehow in the Forsaken universe. How? And clearly it's not in the present time if Guest 666 and Noob are still friends.

You just sit there, mind reeling, ignoring all the doctors.

Even the one staring at you like you're an angel that just stepped out of heaven's gates and onto the Earth.

--☆☆☆--

"Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?" 666 asks you, looking worried as they and Noob help you get settled in "your" apartment after getting out of the hospital. "You could always stay at my place. You know I'm fine with that."

"But I'll be okay." You gently reply, "I've always been okay on my own."

"Being on your own lead to you being hit by a car." They retort, "Seriously, you should-"

"That was a one time thing that won't happen again," You say, "Seriously, you and Noob have done so much already. I'll be good for now."

"Can we at least come back and check on you tomorrow?" Noob asks, frowning, "Please?"

"Of course," You say with a smile, "You two are always welcome to come by. I promise to stay safe."

Then you usher them out, smiling.

That smile is gone the moment the door shuts.

Your legs buckle, your eyes sting, and your breath quakes. Your very being shakes as the weight of what happened fully crashes down on you.

You replaced someone. Someone who had a life, friends, family. Their memories implanted in your skull but none of the emotion, all their skills but none of the effort.

You died, died with all your memories, and became someone new. Someone who already had a life.

Surely someone would notice. Would they be mad? What would happen to you?

There was never much info on the past of Forsaken beyond the characters. You barely grasped how this world worked beyond the memories.

All you do for a while is cry, trying to keep yourself quiet.

Then you try to get used to this place. Something that feels familiar and new. Strange and home.

You don't like the feeling you have.

Food is in the fridge. Food you recall buying or making, but also is entirely unfamilar. Some food you don't even like.

Your room is filled with all sorts of things. Things you remember getting but at the same time have never seen before.

Photos of who this person was are on some of the walls.

You took them down and buried them in a box.

You don't eat that night. Merely drink some water and sleep on the couch.

You can't bring yourself to sleep in this bed that belonged to someone else. Someone who you stole the life of.

When you wake up the next morning, you've long since lost hope of this being some horrible dream. You just shower, try to eat, and eventually vomit.

You don't like how food tastes different now. It all tastes different.

You hate it you hate it you hate it you hate it you

You need to find familiarity in this. Make sense of this madness.

You can't change the fact you replaced someone. The least you could do is continue their life for them.

What else could you really do?

You stared outside, taking in the rain pouring from the sky for a solid ten minutes before grabbing an umbrella and going outside.

The rain feels like the sky's tears. It feels like your own tears too, in a way.

You had to get the mail. Because it apparently got delivered around this time.

It was part of this person's usual routine. Get the mail, and then get the milk.

You've never met anyone who has their milk delivered to them like this is a cartoon. Guess that's part of your life now.

As you roam past the other apartments and grab the mail, nothing happens. But heading back?

As the rain pours off the umbrella, you carry the mail on the under your arm. But you pause when you pass an alley and hear a squeak.

You hesitate, but enter the alley, wandering about until you pass a squeaking, soaking wet cardboard box.

You peer inside, and see a chubby white rabbit having shoved itself into the dryest corner of the box.

...

You took the rabbit home with you, using an empty milk carton filled with towels as a makeshift bed for the rabbit to sleep in.

You gave him a bowl of water and some rabbit-safe greens you had in your house as food.

What? Maybe you could have a pet rabbit. Or at least keep him safe and dry until the rain stopped.

You also decided to call him Gubby because he looked like that special little rabbit. And because he seemed to understand human language when you spoke to him and he'd listen.

Weirdly smart little rabbit... who are you to judge?

You almost forgot you told Noob and 666 they could come over today. They come over surprisingly early too, at like 11 in the morning.

When they saw Gubby, they had two different reactions. But, ultimately, both approved of the idea of you getting a pet. Even though 666 did voice that if you wanted companionship, you could just come and live with them.

You noticed how these two were... incredibly clingy.

You managed to ignore it, though. They weren't forcing you anyways. Hell, they even helped you go out to buy supplies for Gubby since you were gonna have a pet rabbit now.

All that would change is a pet fee and some more money spend on Gubby, but you didn't care. You just would need another spare job.

You could find one if you looked.

--☆☆☆--

You decided to take a babysitting job. You were surprised by the lack of information the person hiring you gave, but it was close to your own house, and you could flee if something bad happened. Hell, it didn't even matter that it was on the more questionable side of town since that was where you lived.

You were very surprised when 007n7 of all people opened the door, but ya probably should've pieced it together when he kept asking if you were someone quick to judge over the text messages you two shared.

It was a bit awkward, but he seemed surprisingly desperate to get someone to watch his kid since he had to go to work and couldn't leave his child alone, and was relieved when you agreed. c00lkidd didn't think much of you, but clearly didn't like 007n7 leaving him with a stranger.

But you were patient. And you took the kid to a restaurant you- or at least the person you replaced- had been going to since you were a young kid. A Japanese restaurant, to be precise. One you're so familiar with that the older couple running it taught you enough Japanese you're fluent now.

Honestly, you did not know that before you, c00lkidd never had Japanese food before. You also didn't know how much the kid would adore that stuff.

Yeah, he quickly decided you were super cool and wanted you to come back and be his babysitter all the time.

It became a steady side gig, and it was fun to hang out with c00lkidd. Plus, even if you didn't see 007n7 as much as you saw his son, 007n7 was always very nice to you.

That night, when you were leaving from babysitting c00lkidd for the first time, the conversation you and 007n7 had was something you thought back to often.

---

"..." 007n7 and you stood on the porch, awkward silence between you two for the few moments after he had paid you, before he uttered a sheepish, "Thank you for... not leaving."

"Hm?" You tilt your head, "What'dya mean?"

"Well... everyone else I hired left pretty quickly after recognizing me or seeing c00lkidd," He admits, rubbing the back of his head, "You're the first one who didn't leave. I'd- uh- really like if you'd be willing to come back."

007n7 looked over towards the front door of his house, before looking back at you.

"c00lkidd would like that too."

"...I'd love to come back."

---

You didn't mind having babysitting as a side gig.

Anyways, it didn't interfere with your job at Builder Brothers pizza, after all.

--☆☆☆--

Your job involved boxing pizzas or helping in the kitchen, depending on what was needed. Occasionally helping out front if someone was out sick and someone else was needed elsewhere.

Due to this, you rarely interacted with Elliot. You two were friendly, yes, but not friends.

He did greet you when you came back to work and made sure you were okay after coming out of the hospital. Then again, everyone who worked there did.

It was surprising how everyone was kinda friendly at this job. It was almost like that major corporations liked to claim they had back home. But here it was genuine in this small but popular pizza place.

This job was never at the front of your mind, though. There were very few moments from after you replaced this person that stuck in your head, loud and clear.

Still though, there were some. Namely as you kept accidentally becoming friends with Elliot, and when you met Jane and John Doe when you were helping out front and they low-key flirted with you.

It was a weird experience, but not as weird as the time Elliot invited you out to lunch and two people kept watching you through. One guy wearing a witch hat and the other someone with messy hair.

It wasn't hard to miss the fact that this was Azure and Two Time in the past. And you did not like the weird interest the two had in you.

You were so focused on this you barely noticed that this lunch was more like a date with Elliot rather than anything.

You barely noticed how more and more people seemed to be flirting with you.

--☆☆☆--

You met Chance when you were at this little family own pet store and buying things for Gubby.

You brought Gubby with you in a little cat backpack you repurposed for him after he seemed to want to spend more time around you.

The man saw your rabbit, and immediately started fawning over the little guy, asking you if he could hold him. That led the two of you in a long conversation, which somehow spilled into you two exchanging phone numbers.

Eventually though iTrapped (you hate that motherfucker, he can go DIE-) came along and dragged off Chance, who almost immediately started sending you rabbit pictures.

How funny was it that you ran into John and Jane again. And seeing them as a happy married couple while knowing what was going to happen...

It hurt. It really, really hurt.

But you remained kind. And they were even more kind.

You still don't know how it spiraled into... this though.

Apparently they wanted to experiment with their relationship a bit. They picked you.

And god, was their experimentation more wild than anything you'd ever experienced before the life you had now.

Laying in that bed after all that, your breath was still shaky. You barely processed how you were convinced to do all that.

Glancing over, you saw the two cuddling. It was a cute sight, but it made you feel slightly out of place.

You just cautiously got out of bed, moving as quietly as you can as you walk across the dark room to gather your clothes.

"Where are you going?"

Jane's voice makes you flinch, and you look back to see both of them looking at you, a mix of confused and amused.

"Uh- going home..?" You hesitantly reply, uncertain of what exactly these two wanted now.

"Really? It's awfully late, you know." John muses, "Come on. C'mere."

You stand still, staring at the two, uncertain.

"Come here." Jane tells you, beckoning you over.

You slowly lower your clothes and approach, hesitating before the two pull you in between them, practically forcing you to join in on the cuddles these two were having.

You were already squished between them once, but this is different. This is warm and cozy, and it is weirdly... loving. Tender. Comforting.

Why are they doing this?

"Because you need it." John murmurs, pressing his head to your neck.

You didn't even realize you uttered that thought aloud.

"Don't worry, just sleep. You can worry about everything in the morning," Jane gently tells you, "Take this break you deserve."

Break?

...you've been worrying, trying to play up a mask and act as if you never replaced someone who had a life.

You're a broken mess who's had no time to truly process. To truly heal.

So you relish in this break. In this warm and welcoming love.

It feels so nice you nearly forget how these people barely know you.

...

You made sure that it was just a one time thing.

--☆☆☆--

It was twelve days after when your home was broken into.

Jolting awake in the middle of the night as you hear a window shatter, you hear Gubby squeak and peer out of his bed.

You shake slightly, before getting out of bed and slowly dialing for the police to come as you hear your apartment- your home- being trashed.

You grab a baseball bat, a metal one, the one before you bought for self-defense, knowing this can be a dangerous area to live in.

But this? This doesn't feel like your usual robbery.

You gently hide Gubby under the bed, and stand behind the door with bated breath, knowing very well it was a matter of time until whoever was out there came in here.

The moment the door opened, you swung. You didn't manage to hit the guy in the head, but you got his shoulder as he hissed in pain and swung a punch you took to the gut.

It was a fight you didn't win as you stumbled back and he called out to others that he had "found the target". More filled in, and demaned payment.

You were clueless, as neither you nor the previous you got any debts. It didn't stop them though.

They beat you to a bloody pulp. You heard and felt them breaking your bones. Your lungs screamed with each breath you took. Your head ached as you were wacked around.

When they finally left alone, hearing their "boss" come in, you acted. Dragging yourself across the floor, fumbling and grabbing your phone and Gubby, before clambering out of the window and tumbling into the bushes.

You hid in there for a long moment, keeping your hand over your mouth as you desperately tried to hide from these... mafia members.

You heard muffled yelling, and thumps, and eventually, it all went quiet. Well, almost. You heard the yelling stop and immediately fled.

You managed to get to 007n7's house and bang on the door, and he gets you inside before you pass out.

You spend a good long while in the hospital. When you're finally let out, you stay at 666's and Noob's place due to their insistence.

They already seemed upset enough you didn't call them until after you were in the hospital and went to 007n7's home, but calmed down when you pointed out that his house was just close to your own apartment and thus was the best place to run to.

Everyone you knew, when they heard about what happened, tweaked out, to put it lightly.

And now, with more friends, meant many more visitors at the hospital and gifts being sent to you.

It felt like a lot.

It was a lot.

But you didn't voice any of this.

--☆☆☆--

You met Two Time and Azure on your way out of work after you recovered.

The two approached you first, and were very friendly.

You noted how they wore little to no things relating to the Spawn. Which made sense, because you figured that the cult leaders didn't want the world to notice and put an end to it all.

But, knowing what you know, you were reasonably hesitant when they talked with you.

But they heard the news stories, and just wanted to be kind. Or at least, that's what they said.

You talked with them, and they kept trying to worm their ways into your life. And eventually you gave way and let them in.

You just hope they'd do no evil. Do nothing morally wrong to you.

And you really hope they didn't think you were special in a devine way...

--☆☆☆--

You met Chance again shortly after this. Well, not shortly. More like a week.

It was at that same pet store you met him the first time. He quite literally asked to meet you there over text.

And when you arrived, he was standing out by the front, almost nervously fussing with their fedora.

When you called out, they flinched and looked over, glasses askew as they cleared their throat.

"Oh, hey! Funny to see you here!"

"...didn't you invite me here?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh- yeah- haha..." He rubs the back of his neck, looking nervous. "...I- uh- have something to ask you."

You tilted your head, wating for Chance to finish.

"So... uh... are you single?" He asks, "And if you are... you wanna go out sometime?"

You hesitate. You already had romantic tension with a lot of people. But this was the first date you've been genuinely asked on.

At least one you noticed was a date.

Chance seems to notice your hesitation. "I mean- no pressure or anything! If ya don't wanna go out, you don't need'ta-"

"I'd love to."

"Wait, really?" Their eyes widen, and he can't hide his grin. "Like- seriously?"

"I'd love to go on a date with you." You say with a smile.

"Really?!" Chance is clearly thrilled, "Uh- how about coffee sometime?"

"Sure. When?"

"Uh... now? Does now work?"

You blink, bemused. "You're lucky I don't have work today and don't need to babysit until tonight. Yeah, now works."

And then you went on that date. Not noticing how when you passed people familiar to you, the jealous looks that were sent Chance's way.

You never noticed how everyone was getting more and more obsessed with you.

--☆☆☆--

When you were babysitting c00lkidd later that week, you were chilling on the couch as the kid was fussing with LEGOs on the ground.

"...are you my parent now?"

You pause at the kid's words, looking over in surprise.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Well," He sets down his LEGOs, "You're here all the time. You take care of me as much as dad does now. So are you my parent?"

"I mean, I guess if ya want that," You remark, not seeing the harm in it, "Yeah, I guess you could say I'm one of your parents in a way."

"Are you my mom or a second dad?"

You hesitate, thinking about it. "...uh... what would you want?"

"I want you as my mom." c00lkidd quickly decides, "Because that way I'd finally have something to do on Mother's Day and talk about how cool my mom is."

You smile. "That's nice, kiddo."

You look back at the book you were reading as c00lkidd talks again.

"You should date my dad."

You choke on your spit as he continues.

"No, you should marry my dad! That way you can be always here and no one could say you aren't my mom!"

"Th- that's not how it works-" You stutter out, sheepish. "I don't need to-"

"C'mon, please?" c00lkidd begs you, "Dad loves you y'know! He keeps talking about how amazing you are! He'd love to date you!"

"Kid- I-" You panic, before coming up with a reasonable excuse, "I already have a boyfriend!"

"..." c00lkidd silently stares at you, "...you do?"

"Yeah, I do." You nod, "His name is Chance. He's wonderful."

c00lkidd frowns, before standing up and walking out of the room, saying "bathroom" as he goes.

You sit there for a moment, before pulling out your phone frantically texting Chance that you two are an official couple now.

You set down your phone and flinched when it blew up with Chance being super excited.

You felt a bit bad, but you did genuinely love Chance.

Anyways, maybe like this, it'll get rid of any relationship drama that will come up in the future.

Oh, how wrong you were...

--☆☆☆--

Shit seemed to go down in a lot of ways after you and Chance became a public couple.

He was honestly over the moon, and you didn't realize just how much of a sweetheart this man was. Sure, he could be lazy and unmotivated, and a real risk-taker, but he adored you and was wonderful to be around.

John and Jane politely congratulated you, but didn't really communicate you much afterwards outside of simple and polite conversation. Though they did pose the offer of double dates a few times.

Elliot seemed to cease almost all conversation with you, being more blunt than before. He also rarely spoke to you now. It was... awkward, to say the least.

007n7 was very, very awkward around you now, and seemed almost... sad. Meanwhile, c00lkidd kept trying to get you to break up with Chance. It was awkward, but you didn't see 007n7 too much and could usually distract c00lkidd from the topic of your love life.

Noob and 666 were pissed, to put it lightly. There was a lot of arguing between you and 666 as the two seemed hellbent on getting you out of any romantic relationships. Noob just seemed more miserable and anxious rather than angry at you, though.

Gubby didn't care and honestly liked Chance.

Two Time and Azure seemed... to try and worm their way in your life more. And it worked.

...

Oh god, you regretted letting them in your life.

--☆☆☆--

You were inside your home, having moved back into your apartment at this point, when the Spawn cult broke in.

They came for you, for a reason you didn't know at the time.

You fought them. You fought them like hell as you desperately tried to get them out.

You didn't succeed.

---

The bat was loose in your hands, your legs shaking violently as you kept trying to get these cultists away.

Gubby scampered out from under the couch and bit one in the leg. She screamed in pain and kicked Gubby across the room.

Unphased, the rabbit immediately hopped back onto his feet and launched himself at your assailants.

But the woman he bit pulled out a knife and stabbed him in the side.

He screamed in pain as he crumpled to the floor.

"GUBBY-!"

That was the only thing you screeched out as your guard lowered for a split second, and you desperately tried to save your rabbit.

You were overwhelmed.

---

They took you to where the cult resided. They kept you there, locked away.

They knew of your miracle. They believed you were some devine being with relations to the Spawn. They believed you were sent by the Spawn as a sign. A sign to worship and cherish you.

You hated it.

You hated them.

There were many escape attempts. You learned your surroundings, and began searching for a way out.

This was you best one so far. You were lost, yes, but knew you were closer to the exit. You had to be.

You were so close to freedom.

Days blurred when you were trapped here. You had no clue how long it had been.

But now you were noticed and being chased down. Thank god you had a head start.

But as you were pulled into a hallway, you squeaked and fought back as a hand covered your mouth.

"Shhh-" Azure whispered in your ear, "We're not going to capture you."

You freeze, recognizing Azure as you heard Two Time tell the others which way you "went" and how the others all ran off, before Two Time peered in.

"They're gone," They told you and Azure, "C'mon, we don't have much time."

You questioned why they were seemingly helping in your escape.

"You know we like you more than just as some... devine being." Azure told you.

"It's not hard to see you hate being caged, little bird." Two Time murmured in your ear, voice warm with tender affection you only seen them truly give Azure.

You hesitated, but followed. You decided to trust them. To give them a chance.

They knew this place better than you anyways.

...

...

...

They didn't lead you outside.

"...this isn't outside." You murmured as you were led into the very room you fled from, "Guys, we went the wrong w-"

You screeched as Two Time suddenly grabbed you, restraining you against their chest as you were helpless to fight back, to get them to let go.

"What are you doing?!" You asked, terror shaking each word, "Azure, Two Time- please-"

"No, shhhh..." Azure gently told you, placing a hand on your cheek as tears stained the flesh. "Don't cry, please. It's only going to make this harder."

"Little bird, no one wants you to go." Two Time said, resting his head against yours, "We're just going to remove your chance at escaping. We can't risk losing you."

"No- no-" You helplessly choked out that word, desperate despite knowing how hopeless this situation was for you.

"It's not going to hurt much." Azure hesitates, "...maybe it will. But at the very least, we promise you won't die."

"Please don't scream." Two Time told you, keeping you from fighting as Azure approached.

He placed both his hands on your cheeks.

"You have beautiful eyes."

And you screamed as they were torn from your head.

--☆☆☆--

Here's Part 2 to the series for yall (in case ya wanna see more)

[hearts4hughes]

ೃ࿔:･ wallstreet!rafe takes care of your ex

warnings: blackmail ; murder ; mentions of weapons ; descriptions of blood

your phone won’t stop lighting up.

buzz, pause. buzz-buzz, again.

you tilt it slightly on the desk, trying to hide the screen, but it’s too late. rafe’s already noticed. he doesn’t say anything at first. just glances at you over the top of his laptop, jaw working. then, with that low, clipped tone that means you’re seconds from seeing the worst in him, he snaps.“is there a reason your phone’s been going off all morning like a fucking fire alarm?”

you freeze. his voice doesn’t raise, but it cuts straight through. you try to speak, can’t. and that’s when it happens. your bottom lip wobbles

“hey,” his tone changes instantly. sharp edges dulled, replaced with quiet concern.

you press your lips together, like that’s gonna stop the tears…it doesn’t and you crack.

words spill in pieces.

“it’s my ex… he-he’s been texting, and calling, and-he has stuff. from before. tapes. and he said if i don’t talk to him, he’ll-he’ll send them out. to people. to my family. i don’t know what to do, i didn’t know who to-”

you’re sobbing now, hands in your lap, trying to keep it together in the middle of rafe cameron’s multi-billion dollar office.

he’s already on his feet before you notice. he crosses the room in a blink and crouches in front of you, brushing his thumbs under your eyes like the tears offend him. “hey, look at me.” you look up hesitantly, bottom lip jutted out and swollen from biting it. “you’re okay. no one’s gonna touch you.”

you nod, still crying, and it happens fast. his arms embrace you. he hugs you. really hugs you. not just arms around shoulders, he pulls you into him like it’s instinct, like you belong here, in the space between his ribcage and his breath.

but behind your back, he’s already planning. he’ll make a call. he’ll get a name, an address. and after that, it won’t take long.

~

within a few hours, rafe knows everything about him. two burner phones, one under his real name, one registered to a PO box in Jersey. cheap apartment, newer car, debt in five figures. he’s desperate…and stupid. rafe hates desperate men.

he doesn’t tell you when he leaves the office that night. just kisses your forehead like he always does, tells you to go home and get some rest.

he doesn’t wear gloves. doesn’t need to.

he finds the ex-boyfriend in a shitty little parking lot behind a dive bar, half-drunk and cocky. rafe doesn’t say much. just leans against the car, sleeves rolled, watch gleaming like a threat.

“you know why i’m here?” he asks.

the guy laughs like he’s not nervous, like his forehead isn’t dripping in sweat. “what, you her new sugar daddy?”

“something like that.” rafe sniffs and then pulls out the gun. it’s not flashy. not dramatic. just a click, a flash, a soft grunt as the man collapses to the pavement. rafe watches the blood stain the ground, pooling around the piece of trash who dared to mess with you. he crouches down, savoring the rattle that slips the man’s throat before his eyes roll back and his soul ascends. rafe’s pulse never spikes. not even once.

~

a few days later, you come into his office again, quieter this time. “he stopped,” you say, not meeting his eyes. “the texts. the calls. just…stopped.”

rafe looks up from his desk, expression unreadable. “good.”

you chew your lip, reading his skin like a book that you can never understand. “did you-did you do something?”

he blinks once. his face doesn’t move, still keeping his stone cold facade. “no.”

and you want to believe him. really, you do.

but later, when he bids you farewell, you catch the faint drop of blood on his dress shoes, and something in you wonders just how far he’d go to protect you.

and if maybe, just maybe, you don’t want to know the answer.

taglist ~ @sweetstrawberrianne @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @43hughes @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife @wishfairies @kieeslove @jacklesluvr @futuremrscameron @rafesdaintyfawn @winterbarnesblog @starkeyszn @drphilssoulmate @xobimbobunnyxo @foolishseven @starsluvrr @luvonstyles

[oreo-creampies]

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐝

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff comfort fic, reader is stress and crying for reasons you decide, established relationships, holding you close, being sweet on you, they are all so soft wanting to help you feel better or at least less alone while upset, confession, toji is a bit rough but trying his best

Oreo: in case anyone else is also crying and needs to be held. Yeah I'm sticking with Satoru is sugar bear cause he is cuddly like bear and he likes sugar, Toji is Teddy Bear because obviously he is. Matching nicknames for my favorite two

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

You’re sniffling, looking down and holding yourself tightly when you shuffle out of the hallway. It doesn’t matter. Satoru six eyes could see your tearful eyes, quivering bottom lip and your nails digging into the soft fabric of his sweater.

You’re desperately trying to hold yourself together about to crack into another flood of tears at any second. “Hold me.” Your voice breaking.

Satoru’s chest is tightening, his heart dropping into his stomach. Holding his arms open for you, closing the space in two long strides. He wraps his arms around you when a harsh sob wrecks your fragile body.

He lifts you off your feet prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. “Cry and take deep breaths sweetheart I’m here for you.” Your tears are soaking through his white shirt.

You lift your head up, studying the tear stains and smear of mascara. “’m sorry ‘m messing up your shirt.”

He gently kisses the side of your head. “Mess it up, or I can take it off. You can lay your head on my bare chest and listen to my heart beating for you.” You sniffle and look up at him, your beautiful eyes are bloodshot.

“Please take it off.” Satoru walks past his bed into the bathroom. He turns on the light then grabs a tissue holding it to your nose for you to blow, tossing it in the trash.

Satoru opens your makeup wipes to slip one out. “Anything for you honeybun.” You close your eyes. He’s careful when wiping your eyes and lashes clean, giving you two kisses. Cleaning your cheeks and forehead of foundation you get three more kisses.

He slides the wipe down your nose giving you one more soft, loving kiss. A smile tugs on your lips when he kisses the tip of your nose. “You’re smile is beautiful makes my day brighter, you’re the sunrise that makes my day.” He throws the wipe away and carries you out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him.

Your eyes widen, “I love you!” You bury your face in his neck and squeeze him tighter like he might vanish.

Satoru’s heart skips a beat. “Look at me sweetheart.” He smiles when you lift your head. “I’m deeply in love with you too.”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Toji crouches next to the bed, pulling back the covers. Your tears are trickling sideways, soaking into the pillow. “Cuddle me, please Toji I need to be held.” He frowns and you look away, tugging the covers back over your head.

Toji finds crying irritating, taught to suck it up he grew up expecting that of others. But seeing you recoil from him dissolves any anger. You deserve to feel your emotions, to cry, and to have him hold you.

He will have to learn how to comfort you and become the man you deserve.

Toji stands up to slip his sweater off. He grabs the blanket slowly pulling it off of you. “Ya wearing my sweater 'cause it reminded ya of me right? This smells like me, I took a shower at a shitty motel before coming home, wanted to smell good fer ya.” You sit up and slip his sweater off, tossing it onto the floor.

He bunches up the sweater and you rise your arms up for Toji to slip his sweater into you. “We can cuddle, I'll be ya like one of ya Teddy bears.” You scoot over giving Toji room to slip into bed. He flips over your pillow, hiding the side soaked with tears.

There is a small smile tugging on your lips. "Teddybear is a good nickname for you." He rolls his eyes climbing into bed, you sit to the side letting him get comfortable. Toji's large body takes up most of the bed.

He's sitting up, pouting, mulling over your new nickname. A darkening blush spreads across his cheeks. You climb onto his lap, "You're big and strong like a bear, and you're going all soft on me. Cuddling you is like cuddling up to those oversized teddy bears you see around valentine's day." He sighs, glancing down at you to see that soft smile spreading.

"I'll let you get away with it 'cause ya cute." He leans down kissing your forehead, wrapping his arm around you.

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

"Meh!" It's a short squeaky chirp of a meow behind your head. A rumbling purr follows as a soft warm fuzzy kitten walks onto your head. Gently pressing its soft beans into your face, their purr gets louder as they delightfully use your cheek to make biscuits.

Another cat comes clawing up the side of the bed. "Meeeehhh." A fluffy brown cat with bright blue eyes announces themself with a loud, chirpy scream "You were upset so I canceled with Toru wanted to surprise you. I saw these two on the side of the road n' couldn't leave them." He sits down on the bed next to you.

He grabs the proudly purring kitten off of your face for you to sit up. "They-they are sooo cuteee. Are we keeping them?" There is shining hope replacing the dull sadness tainting your beautiful eyes.

Suguru's heart aches to see your wet cheeks with tears and bloodshot eyes. "They are our babies now, no one is taking them from us. We can hide them for two weeks until we move into our new place together." He gently sets the small fluffy orange cat on your lap next to the chocolate one. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, holding you close.

The orange one tackles the other, lightly biting their ear. The chocolate kitten gets on its back and delivers bunny blows to the orange one's gut. Which pushes the smaller kitten off.

In surrender the fluffy orange kitten rolls over to show their soft white belly. Pushing their fluffy paws into the air. You sniffle and get on Suguru's lap, he spreads his legs for you to sit between.

"I still need to be held." Suguru carefully wipes your face dry with the baggy sleeves of his sweater.

"Won't let you go till you feel better. I'm sorry you're feeling this way darling. We can get through it together. I'm always here for you whenever you need me." He kisses the top and side of your head, trailing several more kisses down your cheek.

His kiss is tender, loving, and salty from your tears. "When you get hungry," kissing your cheek, "we can grab a bite to eat then become some criminals together by sneaking in stuff for our new babies"

Oreo’s m.list

[pucksandpower]

War Is Over

Lewis Hamilton x Rosberg!Reader

Summary: Lewis parks his car … right into his best friend-turned-nemesis’ little sister (and somehow reunites Brocedes in the process)

Warnings: descriptions of serious injury

Note: the fact that he not only won a race again but it was his home race … this calls for a Lewis Hamilton fic 🥹

The Monaco sun glints off sleek sports cars lining the streets as Lewis navigates his Mercedes through the winding roads. He’s running late for dinner with some sponsors and the traffic is only making things worse.

Lewis mutters under his breath, “Come on, come on. Just need to park this thing ...”

He spots an open space in front of the restaurant and starts to maneuver in, glancing at his watch. The ticking seconds only increase his frustration.

“Bloody hell, why is parking always such a nightmare here?”

Lewis throws the car into reverse, not bothering to look behind him. He’s done this a thousand times before. What could possibly go wrong?

The sickening thud comes a split second before he slams on the brakes. His heart leaps into his throat as he whips around, praying he just hit a trash bin or something.

But the crumpled form on the ground is undeniably human.

“Oh God, oh God, no ...” Lewis fumbles with his seatbelt, hands shaking as he bursts out of the car. “Please be okay, please be okay ...”

He drops to his knees beside the prone figure, a young woman with long hair obscuring her face. Blood is already pooling beneath her head.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” Lewis gently brushes the hair back, and his world stops.

It’s you. Nico’s little sister. The girl he’s known since she was in pigtails, cheering from the sidelines at their early karting races.

Lewis’ jaw drops open as the full horror of what he’s done sinks in. “Y/N? Oh God, Y/N, please wake up!”

He cradles your head, heedless of the blood staining his designer shirt. Your eyes remain closed, skin alarmingly pale.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Lewis shouts, his voice cracking with panic. “Please, somebody help!”

A crowd starts to gather, murmurs of shock and recognition rippling through them. Lewis barely notices, focused solely on your still form.

“Y/N, come on, open your eyes. Please, you have to be okay,” he pleads, gently patting your cheek. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you, I swear I didn’t mean to ...”

Your eyelids flutter, a soft groan escaping your lips. Lewis nearly sobs with relief.

“That’s it, that’s it. Can you hear me? It’s Lewis. You’re going to be alright.”

Your eyes open, unfocused and confused. “Lewis? What ... what happened?”

“Don’t try to move, okay? There was an accident. Help is on the way.”

You try to sit up, wincing in pain. “My head ...”

“Shh, just stay still. I’ve got you.” Lewis supports your shoulders, keeping you from moving too much.

“Did ... did you hit me with your car?” Your voice is small, disbelieving.

Lewis swallows hard. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t see you, I swear. God, Y/N, I would never ...”

You manage a weak smile. “Always knew you’d be the death of me, Hamilton.”

Despite everything, Lewis can’t help but chuckle. “Don’t joke about that. You scared me half to death.”

“Sorry to ruin your evening,” you mumble, eyes starting to drift closed again.

“Hey, hey, stay with me.” Lewis gently taps your cheek. “Keep those eyes open, okay? Talk to me.”

You force your eyes open. “About what?”

“Anything. Tell me ... tell me what you’re doing in Monaco. Are you visiting Nico?”

You shake your head slightly, then wince. “No, I ... I moved here. Got a job at the yacht club.”

“Really? That’s great. When did that happen?”

“Few months ago. Needed ... needed a change of scenery.”

Lewis nods, desperately trying to keep you engaged. “I get that. Monaco’s beautiful. Although the parking situation leaves something to be desired,” he adds wryly.

You manage a weak laugh, then grimace. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Lewis glances around anxiously. “Where’s that damn ambulance?”

As if on cue, sirens wail in the distance. Lewis breathes a sigh of relief.

“Help’s coming, Y/N. Just hang on a little longer, okay?”

You nod slightly, eyes becoming unfocused again. “Lewis?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t tell Nico.”

Lewis’ heart clenches. “Y/N ...”

“Please. He’ll kill you. And then me. For being stupid enough to walk behind a car without looking.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Lewis insists. “I should have checked my mirrors. I was distracted, rushing ...”

You shake your head stubbornly. “Promise me. Don’t tell him.”

Lewis hesitates. “Y/N, I can’t just ...”

“Promise,” you repeat, gripping his arm with surprising strength.

Lewis sighs. “Okay, okay. I promise. But he’s going to find out eventually.”

“Let me handle it. When I’m not ... you know. Bleeding on the pavement.”

The ambulance pulls up, paramedics jumping out. Lewis reluctantly moves aside to let them work, hovering anxiously.

“Sir, can you tell us what happened?” One of the paramedics asks as they begin assessing your injuries.

Lewis runs a hand through his hair. “I ... I hit her with my car. I was backing up and didn’t see her. It was an accident, I swear.”

The paramedic nods, focused on taking your vitals. “Miss, can you tell me your name?”

“Y/N Rosberg,” you mumble.

The paramedic’s eyes widen slightly in recognition, but he remains professional. “Alright, Y/N. We’re going to get you to the hospital. Just try to stay still for me.”

As they prepare to move you onto a stretcher, Lewis steps forward. “Can I ride with her?”

The paramedic hesitates. “Are you family?”

“No, but I’m ... I’m responsible for this. Please, I need to make sure she’s okay.”

You reach out weakly, grasping Lewis’ hand. “Let him come. He’s ... he’s family.”

The paramedic nods. “Alright, but stay out of the way.”

As they load you into the ambulance, Lewis climbs in beside you, still holding your hand. The doors slam shut and the sirens wail as they speed towards the hospital.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lewis says softly.

You give his hand a weak squeeze. “Couldn’t let you ... sulk all night. You’d probably ... crash into a street lamp next.”

Lewis chuckles despite himself. “There’s that Rosberg wit. You sound just like your brother sometimes.”

You grimace. “Don’t insult me when I’m down, Hamilton.”

The banter feels surreal given the circumstances, but Lewis is grateful for it. It keeps the crushing guilt at bay, if only for a moment.

“Y/N, I ...” he starts, then falters. “I don’t even know how to begin to apologize.”

You shake your head slightly. “Later. When everything ... stops spinning.”

Lewis nods, throat tight. He watches the paramedics work, feeling utterly helpless.

“Tell me something,” you murmur after a moment.

“What?”

“Anything. Distract me.”

Lewis thinks for a moment. “Did I ever tell you about the time Nico and I got lost in Ibiza?”

You manage a small smile. “No. Spill.”

As Lewis launches into the story, embellishing for comedic effect, he can’t help but marvel at your resilience. Here you are, cracking jokes and asking for stories while bleeding from a head wound he caused.

The guilt threatens to overwhelm him again, but he pushes it aside. Right now, keeping you conscious and calm is what matters. There will be time for apologies and recriminations later.

As the ambulance weaves through Monaco’s narrow streets, Lewis silently vows to make this right, whatever it takes. He may have destroyed his friendship with Nico, but he won’t let you pay the price for their rivalry.

The hospital looms ahead, and Lewis squeezes your hand. “We’re almost there, Y/N. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

You meet his eyes, a flicker of something — trust? forgiveness? — passing between you. “I know,” you whisper. “I’ve got my guardian angel, after all. Even if he is a bit rubbish at parking.”

Lewis laughs, the sound catching in his throat. As they wheel you into the emergency room, he realizes with startling clarity that nothing will ever be the same after tonight.

But looking at your brave smile as the doctors surround you, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that might not be such a bad thing.

***

The steady beep of the heart monitor fills the hushed hospital room. Lewis sits hunched in an uncomfortable chair beside your bed, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form. The stark white bandage wrapped around your head is a constant reminder of his guilt.

A nurse pops her head in. “Mr. Hamilton? There’s someone here to see-”

She’s cut off as Nico barges past her, his face a mask of fury. “You son of a bitch.“

Nico’s fist is already swinging towards Lewis’ face when a doctor in a white coat steps between them. “Gentlemen! This is a hospital, not a boxing ring!”

Nico’s momentum carries him forward, nearly stumbling into the doctor. He catches himself, chest heaving as he glares daggers at Lewis.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nico snarls.

Lewis stands, hands raised placatingly. “Nico, I can explain-”

“Explain? Explain how you nearly killed my sister?” Nico’s voice rises, causing you to stir in the bed.

The doctor clears his throat. “Mr. Rosberg, I presume? I’m Dr. Moreau. Perhaps we should step outside to discuss your sister’s condition.”

Nico hesitates, clearly torn between getting information and pummeling Lewis. Finally, he nods curtly. “Fine. But this isn’t over, Hamilton.”

As they step into the hallway, Lewis sinks back into his chair, running a hand over his face. He glances at you, relieved to see you’ve settled back into sleep.

In the corridor, Dr. Moreau speaks in low, measured tones. “Mr. Rosberg, your sister suffered a severe concussion and a fractured skull. There was some internal bleeding, but we’ve managed to stabilize that.”

Nico’s knees go weak, and he leans against the wall for support. “Oh God ...”

“She also has three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and various cuts and bruises,” the doctor continues. “Frankly, it’s a miracle she wasn’t more seriously injured. The impact could easily have been fatal.”

Nico slides down the wall, sitting heavily on the floor. “She ... she almost died?”

Dr. Moreau nods gravely. “It was touch and go for a while. But she’s young and strong. With time and proper care, we expect her to make a full recovery.”

Nico buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. After a moment, he looks up, eyes red-rimmed. “Can I see her?”

“Of course. But please, try to stay calm. She needs rest.”

Nico nods, pulling himself to his feet. He takes a deep breath before re-entering the room.

Lewis stands as Nico approaches the bed. “Nico, I-”

“Save it,” Nico snaps, but there’s less venom in his voice now. He gently takes your hand, his thumb tracing circles on your palm.

Your eyes flutter open. “Nico?” You mumble groggily.

“Hey, little sis,” Nico says softly, managing a weak smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a car,” you deadpan.

Lewis winces, but Nico actually chuckles. “Well, your sense of humor is intact, at least.”

You try to sit up, grimacing in pain. Lewis and Nico both move to help, then freeze, glaring at each other.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Both of you, help me up. And then explain why you look ready to kill each other. Again.”

With their combined efforts, they manage to prop you up against the pillows. You look expectantly between them.

Nico breaks first. “How can you even ask that? He nearly killed you!”

“It was an accident,” you insist.

“An accident?” Nico scoffs. “He hit you with his car!”

“Which I’m pretty sure he didn’t do on purpose,” you retort. “Right, Lewis?”

Lewis nods emphatically. “God, no. Y/N, I swear, I never saw you. I was distracted, rushing ... but I would never intentionally hurt you. You have to believe that.”

Nico’s jaw clenches. “Maybe not intentionally. But your carelessness nearly cost my sister her life. How am I supposed to forgive that?”

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Lewis says quietly. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself. But Y/N is the one who was hurt. Shouldn’t it be her choice?”

You nod, wincing at the movement. “Exactly. And I choose to forgive you, Lewis. It was an accident. A stupid, awful accident, but still an accident.”

Nico shakes his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you can’t be serious. You’re lying in a hospital bed because of him!”

“And he’s been by my side ever since,” you counter. “He rode in the ambulance with me, held my hand through all the tests and scans. He’s barely left this room in hours.”

Lewis looks down, uncomfortable with the praise. “It was the least I could do.”

Nico runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “That doesn’t change what happened.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you agree. “But it shows he cares. That he’s taking responsibility.”

“I’ll pay for all her medical expenses,” Lewis adds quickly. “And anything else she needs for her recovery. It’s the least I can do.”

Nico snorts. “You think you can just throw money at this and make it go away?”

“No!” Lewis insists. “I know nothing can undo what happened. But I want to help however I can.”

You reach out, grabbing both their hands. “Listen to me, both of you. I’m tired, I’m in pain, and I don’t have the energy for your macho posturing right now.”

They both have the grace to look ashamed.

“Nico, I love you, but you need to calm down,” you continue. “Lewis made a mistake, a big one. But he’s trying to make amends. And frankly, I need both of you right now. I can’t deal with you at each other’s throats on top of everything else.”

Nico’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just ... when I got that call, saying you were in the hospital ... I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

You squeeze his hand. “I know. But I’m okay. Or I will be. And having you two fighting isn’t going to help me get better any faster.”

Lewis clears his throat. “She’s right. Nico, I know you have every right to hate me right now. But can we please call a truce? For Y/N’s sake?”

Nico hesitates, clearly torn. Finally, he nods stiffly. “Fine. A truce. But only for Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing back against the pillows. “Now, can one of you please get me some water? And maybe sneak in some real food? I’m starving and the hospital jello isn’t cutting it.”

Lewis jumps up. “I’ll go. Nico, you stay with her. I’ll be right back.”

As Lewis hurries out, Nico settles into the chair beside your bed. “You sure you’re okay, little sis?”

You manage a small smile. “I’ve been better. But I’ve also been worse.”

Nico raises an eyebrow. “When have you been worse than having a cracked skull and broken ribs?”

“Remember when I was eight and fell out of that tree in the backyard?”

Nico chuckles. “God, I thought Mama was going to have a heart attack. You were so stubborn, insisting you could climb higher than me.”

“Still can,” you tease.

“Maybe hold off on the tree climbing for a while, yeah?”

You pretend to pout. “Spoilsport.”

The banter feels good, normal. For a moment, you can almost forget you’re in a hospital bed.

Nico’s expression turns serious. “Y/N, are you really okay with forgiving Lewis so easily? You don’t have to, you know. Not for my sake or anyone else’s.”

You sigh. “I know. And believe me, I’m not thrilled about the whole getting hit by a car thing. But Nico, you should have seen his face when he realized it was me. He was devastated.”

“He should be,” Nico grumbles.

“I’m not saying there won’t be consequences,” you continue. “But I don’t believe for a second he meant to hurt me. And holding onto anger isn’t going to help me heal any faster.”

Nico studies your face for a long moment. “When did you get so wise, little sister?”

You grin. “I’ve always been the smart one in the family. You were just too busy crashing karts to notice.”

Nico laughs, then sobers. “I was so scared, Y/N. When they called and said you were in the hospital ... all I could think was that I couldn’t lose you.”

You squeeze his hand. “Hey, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. It’ll take more than Lewis Hamilton’s terrible parking skills to take out a Rosberg.”

“Don’t joke about that,” Nico says, but he’s smiling.

Lewis returns then, arms laden with bags. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so I got a bit of everything. Sandwiches, fruit, some pasta salad ... oh, and chocolate. Lots of chocolate.”

You beam at him. “My hero.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but there’s less hostility in it now. “Is this really the time for sweets?”

Lewis grins sheepishly. “Hey, chocolate has healing properties. I read that somewhere.”

“Sounds like solid medical advice to me,” you chime in, already reaching for a candy bar.

As Lewis unpacks the food, a tentative peace settles over the room. It’s fragile, built on shared concern for you rather than any real reconciliation between the two men. But it’s a start.

You watch them, noting how they unconsciously mirror each other’s movements as they fuss over arranging the food on your tray. For all their differences, for all the bad blood between them, there’s still an underlying connection there. Years of friendship and rivalry can’t be erased so easily.

“You know,” you say around a mouthful of sandwich, “this whole arch-enemies thing you two have going on is getting a bit old.”

They both look at you, startled.

“I mean, come on,” you continue. “You were best friends for years. You’ve known each other longer than most marriages last. Is it really worth throwing all that away over some stupid trophies?”

Nico frowns. “Y/N, it’s more complicated than that-”

“Is it, though?” You interrupt. “Because from where I’m sitting — or laying, I guess — it seems pretty simple. You both love racing. You’re both insanely competitive. And yeah, sometimes that caused friction. But at the end of the day, who else understands what you have been through better than each other?”

Lewis and Nico exchange uncomfortable glances.

“I’m not saying you have to be best buddies again,” you add. “But maybe ... I don’t know. Maybe you could try not actively hating each other? For my sake, if nothing else. I’m going to need both of you while I recover and I really don’t want to deal with World War III breaking out in my hospital room.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Finally, Lewis speaks up.

“She’s right,” he says quietly. “Nico, I know things have been ... difficult between us. And I know this situation hasn’t helped. But Y/N’s important to both of us. Can we at least try to be civil? For her?”

Nico hesitates, then nods slowly. “I suppose we can try. But Lewis, I swear, if anything like this ever happens again-”

“It won’t,” Lewis says firmly. “I promise you, Nico. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You beam at them both. “See? Was that so hard? Now, who’s going to help me eat all this food? Doctor’s orders, you know. Got to keep my strength up.”

As they both reach for the tray, playfully battling over who gets to hand you what, you can’t help but smile. It’s not perfect, not by a long shot. But it’s a beginning.

And really, you think as you watch the two most important men in your life grudgingly share a bag of crisps, sometimes beginnings are the best part of any story.

***

f1-fanatic-2024

[Image: Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg exiting a hospital, walking side by side]

OMG IS THIS REAL??? Brocedes spotted together??? What year is it???

#what is happening #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

brocedes-no1-stan

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

I’m sorry, but are we just going to ignore the fact that they’re leaving a HOSPITAL??? Is everyone okay???

#concerned #hope everyone’s alright #but also lowkey excited

---

vintage-f1-vibes

Okay but why does this feel like a glitch in the matrix? Haven’t seen these two willingly in the same frame since like 2016 😭

#blast from the past #what year is it #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

racing-queen-93

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

BROCEDES RISE!!! 🙌🙌🙌

My 2014 heart is SOARING right now. Never thought I’d see the day. BRB, gonna go cry in a corner.

#i’m not crying you’re crying #brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #f1

---

silverarrows4ever

[Image set: Multiple angles of Lewis and Nico leaving the hospital, including one where they appear to be mid-conversation]

New Brocedes content in 2024? Maybe miracles do happen 😭

But seriously, hope everything’s okay. Weird to see them at a hospital.

#concerned but hopeful #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #f1 #brocedes

---

formula1-history-nerd

[reblogging silverarrows4ever’s post]

Okay, but can we talk about how neither of them has aged a day??? What kind of vampire magic-

#aging like fine wine #drop the skincare routine boys #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

racingdaydreams

Me: I’m over Brocedes, that ship has sailed

Also me seeing these pics: 🥺👉👈

#i’m weak okay #f1 #brocedes #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

fastcarsgovroomvroom

[reblogging f1-fanatic-2024’s post]

Everyone freaking out about Brocedes and I’m just wondering why they’re at a hospital??? Hope everyone’s okay!

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

f1-drama-central

BREAKING: Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg spotted leaving Princess Grace Hospital together. Sources say they arrived separately but left at the same time, engaging in what appeared to be civil conversation. More updates as the story develops!

#breaking news #what’s the tea #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

---

retro-racing-vibes

[reblogging f1-drama-central’s post]

2014 me is SCREAMING right now. 2024 me is cautiously optimistic but also kind of worried because ... hospital?

#conflicted feelings #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

formulaonefanatic

[Image: Close-up of Lewis and Nico talking, both with serious expressions]

Whatever brought them together, it looks serious. Hoping everyone’s okay. But also ... is it wrong that I’m a little excited to see them talking again?

#concerned but intrigued #brocedes #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg

***

f1-gossip-central

[Image set: Lewis, Nico, and Y/N on Lewis’ yacht. Another photo of Lewis kissing Y/N with Nico cringing in the background]

WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Lewis and Nico on the same boat??? Lewis kissing Nico’s sister??? I need answers!!!

#what timeline is this #i’m shook #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

brocedes-ride-or-die

[reblogging f1-gossip-central’s post]

EXCUSE ME??? Lewis and Y/N??? When did this happen??? How did I miss this??? 😱😱😱

#new ship alert #what is happening #f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

vintage-f1-drama

Okay but Nico’s face in that last pic is sending me 💀💀💀 Big protective brother energy

#siblings be like #f1 #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

formulaoneobsessed

[Image: Close-up of Lewis kissing Y/N]

New F1 power couple alert? 👀 But also, how is Nico okay with this?

#f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg #nico rosberg

---

racingheartstrings

[reblogging formulaoneobsessed’s post]

I can’t decide if this is the best or worst plot twist of the 2024 season 😂

Either way, I’m here for the drama!

#pass the popcorn #f1 #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg #nico rosberg

---

silverarrowsforever

[Image set: Lewis and Nico chatting on the yacht, looking relaxed]

Can we talk about how this is the most relaxed we’ve seen these two together in YEARS??? Whatever’s happening, it seems to be healing old wounds and I’m here for it 🙌

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

---

f1-fanfiction-addict

Me: furiously rewriting all my Brocedes fics to include Y/N

The plot twist we never saw coming 😅

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg #fanfiction problems

---

speed-queen-101

[reblogging f1-gossip-central’s post]

Y’all are focused on the Lewis and Y/N kiss but can we appreciate how GOOD everyone looks??? That Monaco sun is doing wonders 😍

#glow up #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

formula1-history-buff

Imagine telling someone in 2016 that in 2024, Lewis would be dating Nico’s sister and they’d all be hanging out on Lewis’ yacht. They’d think you were crazy!

#how times change #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

racingdaydreams

[Image: Nico’s cringing face as Lewis kisses Y/N]

Tag yourself, I’m Nico 😂

#third wheel vibes #f1 #nico rosberg #lewis hamilton #y/n rosberg

---

fastcarsgovroomvroom

[reblogging racingdaydreams’ post]

Petition for a reality show following this trio because I would watch the HECK out of that

#make it happen netflix #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

f1-drama-queen

THEORY TIME: What if the hospital visit from last week was for Y/N??? And that’s what brought Lewis and Nico back together??? 🤔

#conspiracy theory #but makes sense #f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #y/n rosberg

---

brocedes-forever

[Image set: Lewis and Nico laughing together on the yacht]

My Brocedes heart is THRIVING right now. Yeah, the Lewis and Y/N thing is cute, but look at these two 😭❤️

#f1 #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes #friendship goals

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 3 - The First 24 Hours

This 'short' dribble is getting out of control. Also reader is a medic now... I have a thing for medical dramas.. CW: PTSD, mental health, panic attacks, little bit of comfort.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

You don’t want to stay in the med-bay. You want to get out of the sterile room to somewhere you feel comfortable. Which is hard to find while you’re still stuck on a base. You go to your room trying to ignore and avoid as many people as you can. 

You catch people whispering out the corner of your eyes, there’s probably not been anything this interesting happening in months. It’s not everyday special forces turn on one of their own, it’s not everyday they torture one of their own. 

You make it back to your room. It’s just the way you left it. Now it feels empty. 

There would be times when you would come back from a long day of training to find Simon laid on your bed with a cigarette between his lips, or Johnny sitting crossed legged with a book ready to talk your ear off about his day. 

That’s never going to happen again, you never want them in your space again. When you make it over to the bed you see a letter with your name on it. You recognise the handwriting it’s John’s. You don’t want to open it, your eyes go to the trash bin in the corner of your room. That's the only place it belongs. 

Your curiosity gets the better of you though. 

You sit down picking it up, your hands shaking, you’re holding your breath as you open it. You don’t even make it past the first line of the word vomit apology before you don’t want to read it any more. There is no use in them trying to reconcile with you. You fold it closed. Simon’s lighter is still there on the crate you turned into a bedside table. You pick it up, it makes you mad. 

You hate them, you hate what they put you through. You thought they loved you. You thought they would be on your side believing everything you said. Instead they hurt you, over and over for days. You found out from Kyle it had been 4 days. It felt longer. 

You bring the lighter up to the letter and set it on fire. You hold it in your hand watching as the flames disintegrate it into nothing. You drop it on the floor when it's about to reach your fingers and stamp it out. The knock at your door makes you jump. Your heart is pounding in your chest. 

“It’s me.” Kyle calls. You walk over opening it. He smiles at you but you don’t smile back. 

“He’s awake. He’s asking for you.” Kyle says. You let out a sigh of relief. He made it, thank god he made it. You follow Kyle in silence back to the med-bay. You walk past the room you slept in last night. Well slept wasn’t really the right word. Everytime you close your eyes, you're back in that room, with the snakes and the water. Two hours you think you go in total, spent the rest of the night having panic attacks until a nurse found you sobbing in a corner. 

The doctor wants you to speak to a psychiatrist. ‘Yeah? So I can be discharged? I want to work.’ That was met with sighs and a prescription for sleeping pills. Kyle stops just outside Johnny’s room. He turns to you and sighs.

“John and Simon are already here.” He says, it makes your stomach twist. You haven’t seen them since you left the room. You don’t want to see them, but you want to see Johnny. 

“It’s okay.” You lie. Kyle sighs again, you can tell by the expression on his face he’s sorry. 

“They don’t want to tell Johnny about what happened. They’re worried it will upset him. He’s only just woke up, the doctors want to give him a few days. Make sure he’s stable.”  

“Is that the doctor's decision on John’s?” You snap. You’re mad, you don’t want to lie to Johnny. Kyle doesn’t answer, instead he presses his lips together running his hand over his head. You sigh looking into the room, you can see John and Simon stood by the bed blocking your view of Johnny. 

It doesn’t matter who said it, they're right. Johnny needs rest, he needs to recover, he’s been in a coma for almost a week any stress could be dangerous. 

“I won’t say anything.” You say letting out a breath. Kyle smiles and reaches forward to grab your hand. You move it away so he can’t crossing your arms instead. You have to calm down or it’s going to be harder than it already is. 

Kyle walks in the room and you follow after. You try not to look at them but you can’t help it. Luckily Johnny pulls your attention away.

“Where have you been hiding lass? I thought you'd never leave my side!” He calls as you make it round to the other side of the bed and hug him. He groans in pain as he leans forward. You hope he can’t feel how hard your heart is beating. 

 “We were worried, for a while it looked like you weren't going to make it.” Kyle says as you break away from the hug. 

“Pff, not when I have the best medic in the world looking after me.” He says winking at you and grabbing your hand. You squeeze it tight and force a smile at him. It feels unnatural, it feels wrong, everything about this feels wrong. 

“What happened?” He asks suddenly, his eyes creasing together, his face going dark. You’re holding your breath, it feels like everyone in the room is holding their breath. He holds your hand up. You still have the hospital tag on. Shit. Panic rises in you. You don’t know what to do. You open your mouth to speak but words don’t come out.

“She hit her head.” Kyle says. You let out a sigh of relief as his hand finds the small of your back. 

“They wanted to keep me in for observation.” You follow up hoping he can’t hear the shaking in your voice. You look up at John and Simon, the colour drained from their faces. Simon clears his throat and Johnny turns to look at him. It gives you a second to squeeze your eyes shut and wish you were anywhere else. 

“You been pushing her too hard again?” Johnny asks Simon tutting. 

“Only what she can handle.” Simon says, it sounds cold in your ears. You feel sick bile rises in your stomach. You need to leave, your hand is sweaty, you pull it away from Johnny. You’re glad Kyle’s hand is on your back because without it you think you might pass out. 

“I have to go. Got this new rota that's kicking my ass.” You say trying to keep your voice level. It sounds so unnatural. You swallow trying to get the lump forming in your throat to go away but it wont. “I’ll come see you later. I promise.” You back up from the bed as Johnny looks confused. 

You can’t be here. You almost want to sprint out the room but you keep your calm walking out normally. When you leave and close the door behind you, that's when you run. 

______

You’re standing outside the washroom with a towel and a toothbrush in your hand. You want to take a shower scrub the layer of grease that's formed on your skin. You tried, you tried to take a shower in the hospital, the water brings flashbacks. Great, now you’re afraid of water. 

You have to get it together, if you can’t you’ll be sent home on leave, or worse discharged. You want to work, you enjoy work. Maybe not the people you work with but you’ve already thought about a transfer. You doubt John will have any issues with that, and if he does well there are always people above him. 

“Hey.” Kyle calls making you jump. He frowns coming towards you. “Didn’t see you at dinner, is everything okay?” It looks like he already regrets that question, no nothing is okay. Everything sucks and all you want to do is take a shower. 

“I want a shower.” You say looking back at the door. 

“Is someone in there? I can kick them out.” he offers, you sigh, shaking your head. He seems to get it and you hear him sigh. He steps up next to you putting his hand on your back. 

“I can help,” he says. You shake your head forcing yourself to be strong as your lip quivers. You have to try and do this alone. Your knuckles turn white as you grip your toothbrush as hard as you can. 

“I’ll watch the door, make sure no one comes in.” He says rubbing your back. You smile at him and nod, stepping into the room before you change your mind completely. 

The place smells damp as the automatic lights flicker on. It’s only been you and the rest of 141 using this space so their stuff is everywhere. You start to realise things about the room you didn’t even see before. It’s windowless, there’s a loud hum of vents. The place smells of aftershave and soap. 

You walk over to one of the showers, hanging your towel over the half wall. You’re stripping your clothes before you can stop yourself. This feels like a routine, showering in the freezing base showers only this time the thought of turning the showers on makes you feel sick.

You keep telling yourself you can do this, repeating the mantra in your head if only to keep your mind occupied. You’ve been taught how to deal with PTSD and triggers, what's the best way to help, or stave them away. You don’t have PTSD, you remind yourself. You’re just going through a rough patch.

As soon as you can get away from 141 and have a good night's sleep you’ll feel better. And now Johnny’s awake, that's one less thing to worry about. You reach over and twist the hot tap on. The water hits your arm and you pull it back like you’ve just been burned. 

You can do this. It’s just a shower. Kyle’s watching the door. No one can hurt you. 

You suck in a deep breath and stick your leg in, the water is surprisingly hot for once. That’s good, it will make things easier. One step at a time. Your hand and arm go in next, your breathing picks up, goosebumps rise on the parts of your body still exposed to the air. Now you’re shaking. 

You let out a long breath forcing yourself to move into the water. You turn letting it run down your back in an attempt to get the shaking to stop. It doesn’t work. Now you’re frozen you can’t move. You try to focus on getting your breathing to steady but it’s not working. You have nothing to distract yourself with. 

You force your eyes closed, that just makes things worse. Fear rises in you, you don’t know why but your head tips back. As soon as the water hits your face it’s like you don’t know where you are anymore. You’re not in the showers, you're back in the room. The water drowns out any sound in your ears. You don’t know what’s happening anymore.

The next thing you know you’re on the floor, your head throbs. There’s commotion, a noise you don’t recognise and footsteps. You open your eyes with a sob as tears escape. You turn, you must have slipped, Kyle is turning the shower off. He picks up your towel and comes over to you, bending down and wrapping it around you. He doesn’t say anything, just kneels down on the wet floor pulling you into his arms. 

You sob in his arms as he holds you tight. You get it all out, all the tears you’ve been avoiding over the last 24 hours. Maybe this is what you needed: a good cry. 

Kyle doesn’t let you go. Eventually he starts rocking you, stroking your hair, kissing the top of your head. He tells you everything will be okay. You want to believe him, you so badly want to leave this room and everything will be magically better. 

It won’t be though, and it won’t be for a very long time. 

As you calm down and your body stops shaking, anger burns in you. This should never have happened to you. Especially not by the people you love. You hate them, you never want to see them again. Kyle notices your change in body language and silently helps you to your feet. 

He walks you across to your room, closing the door behind him. 

“Want me to stay?” he asks as he helps you over to your bed. You nod looking up at him, he strokes your cheek smiling. “I’ll be back in a second.” He says going to leave the room. 

You don’t want to be alone, not right now. Maybe with Kyle here you can get some sleep. Or maybe it will be worse, right now you’ll try anything. You look over at Simon's lighter still sitting on the crate. You pick it up, turning it over in your hand before dropping it in the trash.

You never want to see them again.

next

I could have kept going. I don't know when to stop... This is what happens when my main fic is on hold. I need a million projects or I get bored XD Banners by firefly-graphics

[revelboo]

Revel my eternal saviour, I plead more tarn and my life is yours. Seriously that cliffhanger!!!!! Aaack!

Sure!

L.G. Fuad Pt 9

Tarn x Reader

• Head lowering, he leans into your space. That anger still sizzling through him and you cringe, chirping fearfully as your head turns away, eyes closing. And you’re repeating something in your language, voice breaking. Freezing when he recognizes you’re trying to say his name amid whatever else you’re saying. Venting against you, he should take some satisfaction in your obvious fear. In scaring you into never trying that again, instead it leaves him unsettled. And still uncomfortably aware of his own frame’s response to you.

• “I’m sorry, Tarn, I’m sorry,” babbling apologies because he’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. Snarling at you and you shudder when he presses his masked face against your throat and you can feel him venting against you, one of his hands pinning both of yours above your head. And you gasp when he catches your chin and forces your head to turn his way as his own head lifts. Growling something at you that sounds furious. “I’m sorry.” That little glimpse of his face hadn’t been worth his anger or your life. Because he’s that angry. “Tarn, please.”

• “Anyone else who tried that would be dead right now,” he whispers, tapping a servo against your soft cheek until you open your eyes. And his anger fizzles somewhat, those frightened eyes leaking. “Anyone else,” he repeats, voice strained. Still aroused and angry and frustrated with you, everything mixing together into a bitter confusion. And you’re still brokenly chirping his name, breath hitching and leaking even more. “Stop that,” he growls, unconsciously modulating his voice. Using his outlier ability on you.

• It’s like someone cut your strings, body just going limp. Aware of yourself, of the weight of your body in a way you’ve never been before. Unable to breathe. Lungs just refusing to draw in a breath. Unable to twitch a finger or blink. Just staring up at those red optics as panic claws at you. Him. It’s him. Hear him growl as your lungs burn and know without knowing how that he’d done this to you somehow. Trapped you in your own body while it slowly dies because you’d made him angry.

• Freezing when you just stop, eyes staring at nothing. Little chest no longer rising and he realizes what he’s done. Hadn’t meant to no matter how angry he was. Didn’t want this. “Breathe,” he growls. “Live for me.” Pouring his ability into the words, willing you to obey and you take a shuddering, terrified breath. And immediately go wild, trashing and bucking in his grip. Screaming at him as he hooks an arm around you and sits back to drag you into his lap. Pinning you as you fight to escape him, sobbing. He’d lost control. Used his ability without meaning to. That shouldn’t be possible. You shouldn’t be able to affect him like you do. To not only want you that way, but to let you get under his plating. Cupping your head against his chassis, his servos are shaking as it sinks in just how dangerous you are. You’re a threat.

Previous

Next

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤALL TOO WELL * CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Chris misplace his priorities.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes.

WARNINGS　::　fighting, crying, cursing. ANGST with a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Y/N felt her heart sink as she watched Chris frantically scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to her. The silence in the living room echoed the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks, the memory of the previous day's event still fresh in Y/N's mind.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N sighed contentedly as she set the dark wooden table carefully, placing the plates and cutlery impeccably. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing Chris's favorite dish, with fresh ingredients, for the romantic dinner they had planned to have after the triplets recorded the video that would be posted next Friday. Everything was perfect, except for the emptiness that began to settle in her chest as the hours passed and Chris didn't appear.

At eight sharp, Y/N sat at the table, her heart filled with anticipation and anxiety. She watched the stairs leading to the front door with every sound she heard, willing him to come. But as the minutes dragged on, anxiety turned to despair.

Nine o'clock passed, and Y/N was still sitting alone at the table, her stomach churning with hunger and worry and her eyes staring into space, small tears burning her cornea. She tried calling Chris several times, but every call went to voicemail, as well as her messages going unread.

At ten o'clock, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Thick tears began to stream down her face as she looked at the still untouched plate in front of her. The romantic dinner she had so lovingly prepared now seemed like a cruel reminder of her dashed hope.

With a choked sob, Y/N got up from the table, feeling completely desolate, her belly hurting from the weight and sobs that made her body shake. She carefully put the food away in the fridge, her hands shaking with disappointment.

That night, Y/N fell asleep in her boyfriend's room with a heavy heart and eyes swollen with tears, wondering if she would ever have the courage to take some initiative, before it was too late.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was standing in front of the cinema, her heart full of expectation as she held a bucket of popcorn in her hands. She looked from side to side nervously, trying to spot Chris among the crowds rushing along the sidewalk. Time was running out, and her nervousness increased as the clock on her phone showed just ten minutes until the start of the movie, and her boyfriend still hadn't appeared.

And then, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, Y/N's phone vibrated, indicating a new message. She grabbed the device anxiously, hoping to see an apology or explanation from Chris for the delay. But what she heard was something that made her shake with rage.

"Hi, baby." Chris’s voice sounded through the voicemail, but instead of an apology, there was a note of indifference in his words. "I know we planned to go to the movies today, but a last-minute party came up that I really need to go to. Do you remember Tara Yummy? It's hers! Well, I'm sorry for canceling like that at the last minute. Maybe we can meet up later, okay? Bye."

Y/N felt her world collapse upon hearing those words. Chris's betrayal, his indifference to her feelings as he sent her the message just to break her as if it was some kind of promise, cut like a sharp knife. She clutched her phone tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Anger and sadness consumed her, bubbling inside her chest like a volcano about to erupt. With a cry of frustration, Y/N threw the bucket of popcorn and the tickets into the nearest trash bin, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she felt suffocated by disappointment and pain.

And that night, Y/N walked away from the cinema, her heart broken and her confidence destroyed.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Chris." She began, shaking her head gently to shake the memories away, her voice trembling with the anguish she carried. "We need to talk."

Chris looked up from his phone for a moment, his tired eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the bright screen in his hands.

"Not now, Y/N. I'm busy."

Those words hit Y/N like a punch in the stomach. She felt increasingly isolated and neglected, while Chris's world revolved around his career and his influential friends.

"You're always busy, Chris." Y/N murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. "There's never time for us."

Chris sighed, irritation rising across his skin like a shiver. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking up at the girl again, giving her a look full of hatred, which she had never seen before.

"I have responsibilities, Y/N. You know that. I can't just ignore my work to pay attention to you."

"I'm not asking you to ignore it." Y/N snapped, her voice rising in desperation. "I'm just asking for a little time for us. For our relationship. Yesterday you-"

Chris shook his head quickly, interrupting her, the traces of frustration deepening on his face.

"I already said I'm sorry! You always do this, Y/N. You're always trying to change who I am and what I do. You always try to change my priorities, like my world has to revolve around you. That's not how things work!"

Those words cut Y/N like a sharp blade, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She wasn't trying to change him. She just wanted to feel like he cared about her as much as he cared about his fame, but instead, he made her feel like a random crumpled up piece of paper.

"I just want you to include me in your life." Y/N whispered, her voice shaking with pain as her eyes blinked repeatedly, her eyelashes slowly becoming wet with tiny droplets from tears. "But it always seems like there's something more important."

Chris snorted, throwing the phone roughly onto his lap and turning abruptly to face her, an expression of disdain filling his eyes.

"You know what? Maybe it would be better if you took some time to think about what you really want, because it seems to me that everything I do isn't enough, and if you're not genuinely happy in this relationship, maybe you should evaluate your preferences!"

Chris' words echoed in Y/N's mind, leaving her stunned. She felt as if she had been hit by a train of conflicting emotions.

With a lump in her throat, the girl stood up from the couch abruptly, her legs shaking under the weight of her grief as her chest burned intensely, anguish gnawing at her insides.

"Maybe you're right." Y/N muttered, shrugging, her voice cracking with pain. "Maybe I need some time to figure out what I really want... Right?"

Chris watched in silence as Y/N walked away, her tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks, her lips pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the sobs that wanted to escape.

The brunette frowned, watching his girlfriend's wet cheeks against the cool light of the room, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten, begging to call her back, and apologize, but the words seemed to get stuck.

And so, Y/N left the triplets house that night, taking with her a broken heart and a soul full of uncertainty about the future of their relationship.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The frigid night air bit into Chris' skin as he walked through the empty streets of LA, his body shaking not only from the cold but also from the anxiety and remorse that consumed him. He couldn't bear another night without Y/N by his side, without feeling her comforting touch and hearing her soft laugh filling the silence.

His steps were heavy and slow, each carrying the weight of days of loneliness and regret that piled up on his shoulders. The memory of Y/N's desolate and disappointed face haunted his thoughts, an image that haunted him incessantly, preventing him from finding peace even at bedtime.

Chris knew he had done wrong, that he had hurt the person he loved most in the world with his negligence and misplaced priorities. He blamed himself for his actions, for putting his work and his friends before her, for leaving her alone and helpless at times when she needed him most, or just wanted his company and love.

The mere memory of coming home on Thursday before everything fell apart, and finally seeing all the lost messages from his girl, along with a plate full of his favorite food neatly packed in the fridge made his heart ache as if human hands were squeezing it.

As he made his way through the deserted streets, the silence of the night was deafening, a cruel metaphor for the loneliness he had caused himself. Each step brought him closer to the home that had once been his refuge, the place where he found comfort in Y/N's arms and where he hoped he could right the wrongs he had done.

Finally, the brunette arrived at the door of the small, simple house, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he hesitated to ring the doorbell. He knew he didn't deserve Y/N's forgiveness, that his empty words and broken promises couldn't erase the pain he caused.

But he had to try. He had to show her that he was sorry, that he loved her more than anything in this world, and that he would do anything to have her back by his side.

With a shaky sigh, Chris finally pressed the doorbell and waited, his heart hammering in his chest as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in an act of nervousness, the cold of the night penetrating his bones.

On the other side of the door, Y/N hesitated, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she tried to gather the courage to face the stranger that was there. The last few days had been a storm of sadness and loneliness, her mind spinning in circles of anguish as she struggled to understand what had happened between her and Chris, where everything went wrong.

When she finally mustered enough courage to turn the doorknob, what she saw made her freeze in place. Chris was there, standing in front of her, his eyes red and swollen from crying. His face was contorted into an expression of pain and regret, and Y/N felt her heart tighten even more at the sight of the person she loved so much in a deplorable state.

"Chris." Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to process the scene before her eyes.

Chris didn't say anything, he couldn't. He just sobbed, thick tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he fought to contain the overwhelming emotions that overwhelmed him. His body shook violently, each sob a painful reminder of all the mistakes he had made in the last few weeks.

Y/N felt tears in her own eyes as she looked at him, her heart breaking at the pain she saw reflected in his eyes. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped Chris in a tight hug, letting him cry on her shoulder as she gently stroked his hair, her own tears silently streaming down her cheeks.

For long minutes, they stayed there, lost in each other's arms that transcended the words and hurts. It was as if, in that moment, their wounded souls found a refuge in each other, a source of comfort and peace amid the chaos their lives had become.

"Baby! B-baby, I'm- I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry-" The boy's words came out in broken sobs, his words almost incomprehensible.

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her heart clenching by her own pain. With a sigh, she pulled away lightly, holding his hand firmly and gently guiding him into her house, closing the door behind them, the warmth of the walls enveloping their cold bodies.

Y/N led Chris over to the living room couch, keeping a cautious distance as he sat down next to her on the cushioned seat. Uncomfortable silence hung between them, filled with tension and unspoken emotions, as Y/N waited patiently for Chris to find the words to express what was in his heart.

Finally, after a long moment, Chris broke the silence, his voice still cracked from his recent crying.

"Baby, I... I know I was wrong. I know I hurt you deeply with my actions, and I never wanted to make you feel that way."

Chris sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he tried to find the right words, his right leg bouncing up and down in anxiety.

"I was so obsessed with YouTube, with my success, that I ended up neglecting the most important thing in my life: you. I got lost in the cool lights and the adrenaline of fame, and I forgot how much you mean to me. And I'm so fucking sorry for that." His lower lip trembled slightly, making him trap it between his teeth.

The boy's words cut deep into Y/N, reigniting the pain and hurt she had kept inside. She felt tempted to step away to protect her heart from the possibility of being hurt again. But something in Chris's eyes made her hesitate, something she recognized as genuine regret and love.

"Chris..." Y/N began, her voice shaky and filled with uncertainty. "You don't understand how much it hurt me every time you kept me waiting, every time you put your work and your friends before me. I felt so alone, so unappreciated."

"I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I would do anything to make things right, to prove that you're my real priority." Chris lowered his head, frowning and fixing his eyes on his legs, guilt weighing on his shoulders.

Y/N raised her right hand, taking it to his chin covered with the beard he had let grow in the last few days, pushing it up so that she could look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation reflected there.

She wanted to believe him and wanted to open her heart to forgiveness and the possibility of a future together again. But the pain of everything that had been done brought her such insecurity that she knew she needed time to heal.

"I don't know, Chris." Y/N murmured, the hand that was holding his chin falling with a thud onto her lap. "I'm still hurt, I'm still trying to process everything that happened. I don't know if I can just forgive and forget."

Chris swallowed hard, fear evident in his eyes as his mind screamed at him to do everything, anything. Even if he needed to kneel in front of his girl to get her back.

"Please, Y/N. I promise I'll do everything to make this right, to be the boyfriend you deserve. Just give me a chance to prove that I can change."

Y/N looked at him again, seeing the vulnerability in his gaze. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but there was something about Chris, something she couldn't ignore, something that gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to the way they were before.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N reached her hand out to Chris again, taking his and intertwining their fingers tightly, her heart warming with the touch she had missed so much.

"I forgive you, Chris." She murmured, her voice sounding soft but her eyes carrying an indescribable firmness. "But know that things are going to have to change. Your priorities are going to have to take the right path this time."

© vanteguccir

[svgarz]

Warmth in the cold - K.MJ

— -> 𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ::: With nowhere else to turn, you reach out to your best friend Minjeong. 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ::: fem reader x g!p winter. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 :: Comfort after distress, best friends to lovers, emotional intimacy, protective Minjeong, soft but passionate first time, crying, size kink, warmth after cold, slow build to smut, safe space. ( silly billy- wrap your willy. ) Master-list! <- —

———————— ★ ★ ★ ★ ————————

The wind whipped your face as you wandered the unfamiliar side streets of Seoul, your breath clouding in the night air. It was bitter cold—biting through your jacket and socks, your cheeks red from both the chill and your tears. You’d been walking for over an hour now, dragging your suitcase through slush, too numb to even check your phone.

The landlord’s voice still rang in your ears.

“You’re late on rent again. I’ve been patient enough.”

Your stuff—shoved into bags, thrown out like it was trash.

You had no one in this city. No family. No boyfriend. Only one person you could even call a constant.

Minjeong.

Your best friend since middle school.

And now, apparently, the only home you had left.

1:14AM.

You stood outside her apartment complex, your fingers shaking as you typed in her number, buzzed her door. The icy metal of the intercom burned your skin.

A pause. Then static.

“Hello…?” came her groggy voice.

“…It’s me,” you said softly, broken. “I… I didn’t know where else to go.”

Silence. Then a click.

The door buzzed open.

You barely made it into the elevator without collapsing. Your suitcase squeaked across the floor as your vision blurred again with tears. When her apartment door opened, the hallway light spilled over her tall frame—baggy white tee, black shorts, messy hair. Sleepy. But alert the moment she saw your face.

“Y/N…?” Minjeong blinked, then stepped forward. “What happened?”

You tried to explain, but it just spilled out in sobs. The cold. The eviction. The loneliness. You stood there, shaking in your coat, until she pulled you into her arms—tight, warm, solid.

“Shhh… You’re okay now,” she murmured, rubbing your back. “You’re safe here. With me.”

She made you tea. Set out a towel and one of her shirts. A hot shower later, you were dry, dressed in her oversized black tee that smelled like fresh laundry and vanilla body lotion. You sat curled up on her bed, staring at the mug in your hands.

“I feel so pathetic,” you whispered.

Minjeong shook her head, walking over. “You’re not. You’re human. You were scared, and you came to me. That’s what people do when they care about each other.”

You looked up at her, eyes red. “Why are you always so good to me?”

Her lips parted slightly. Like she wanted to say something. But didn’t.

Instead, she climbed into bed beside you, pulling the covers up. The room was quiet, but warm. You could feel her warmth just inches away.

You turned to face her.

“Can you… hold me?” you whispered.

She didn’t hesitate.

Minjeong pulled you into her chest, her arms wrapping around you slowly but firmly. “Always,” she breathed.

You nestled against her, cheek to her collarbone. You felt her heartbeat. Strong. Steady.

Then you realized her hand was resting low on your waist, trembling slightly.

You glanced up. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. Her jaw was tight.

“…Min?” you whispered. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated.

Then, softly—“You’re so close. And I’ve wanted to hold you like this for so long, it’s killing me.”

Your breath caught. “…What do you mean?”

She blinked, as if trying to fight it, then finally turned to look at you. Her face was flushed.

“I mean I’ve been in love with you since high school,” she said. “And I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose you. But now��� you’re here. And you’re hurting. And I want to take care of you. In every way.”

Your chest tightened.

You leaned up slightly, face inches from hers.

“Then take care of me,” you whispered. “I want you too.”

She kissed you like she was afraid you’d disappear. Slow. Deep. So gentle your heart ached. Her lips pressed against yours again and again, until you melted in her arms.

Your hand slid down—gripping her waist, her thigh—before you felt it. Her length. Hard beneath the sheets. Pressed against your inner thigh. Hot. Heavy.

You broke the kiss, panting. “You’re hard…”

Minjeong’s face flushed deep red. “S-Sorry—It’s just—”

“Don’t be sorry,” you whispered, crawling over her. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

“Y/N—” her voice cracked.

You kissed her again. “Please. I need to forget how cold it felt outside. I need your warmth. Please, Minjeong…”

She pulled you into her lap, guiding your hips. Her shaft throbbed against your folds, the fabric of your borrowed panties soaked through. She pushed them aside, her hands gentle but firm.

“Are you sure?” she asked, voice hoarse.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

The stretch was intense.

You whimpered as she sank into you, inch by inch. Her jaw clenched, arms shaking as she tried to hold back. She was big—far bigger than you expected. The fullness made your head spin, but you didn’t want her to stop.

She kissed your neck as you sat in her lap, fully seated on her cock, breathing heavily. You both stayed still for a moment, locked in warmth and desperation.

Then she started moving.

Slow, deep thrusts. Her hips rolling up into you with each pass, hitting the deepest parts of you. You cried out into her shoulder, clinging to her, your fingers tangled in her hair. Her breath was hot against your ear.

“You feel so perfect,” she whispered. “I’ve dreamt about this for so long…”

She held you as you rode her, her cock sliding in and out of your soaked core. The wet sounds filled the room, the bed rocking gently under the rhythm of your bodies.

You came first—hard, trembling in her lap as she held you close and whispered praise. But she didn’t stop. She kept moving, her pace growing needier, more desperate.

Until finally—

“I’m close—Y/N—fuck, I—”

You kissed her deeply. “Do it inside. Please. I want it.”

Her hips stuttered. Her cock twitched deep inside you.

She groaned your name and spilled inside, filling you with thick, hot pulses that made you shudder. Her arms wrapped around you tighter as she buried herself to the hilt, trembling under the weight of release.

Minutes passed.

You both lay there tangled together—her softening length still inside, her hands cradling your back.

“I love you,” she whispered against your neck. “Not just tonight. Every night. Always.”

You kissed her shoulder, smiling through your tears.

“I’m finally warm now,” you whispered back. “Because I’m home.”

———————— ★ ★ ★ ★ ————————

©svgarz

[readingkitty22]

Shared Walls, Shared Heat

Pairing: Alpha! Satoru Gojo x Omega! Reader

Description:College wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. As an Omega determined to carve her own path, the last thing she expected was to be forced into a new living situation,especially not one involving a too-handsome, too-smug Alpha like Satoru Gojo. Aloof and infuriatingly hot, he seems like the last person she’d trust with her secret. But Gojo has secrets of his own… and instincts he’s been holding back. What begins as reluctant cohabitation slowly spirals into something deeper, hotter, inevitable. In a world that expects her to fall into place, she dares to fall in love.

roommates AU, omegaverse, modern fantasy, slow burn to HOT burn, mutual pining, scent kink, protective/possessive Alpha Gojo, non-traditional Omega reader, emotional heat, soul-deep bond, claiming/bite, post-heat cuddles

⚠️ Warnings: Omegaverse dynamics (heat/rut, claiming, knotting, scenting), NSFW/explicit content, emotionally intense scenes, dominance/possessiveness (consensual), light breeding kink, gender-neutral reader language in parts but female-coded anatomy implied, mild angst and past discrimination themes

w.c. 5.8k

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

Life as an omega was hard. It always has been.

You weren’t the delicate, sweet-scented kind that made alphas swoon and governments comfortable. You were sharp, stubborn, and worst of all ambitious. Your existence made people uncomfortable because you refused to be grateful for the box they'd tried to put you in.

From your very first heat, you knew the world had already made its decision about what kind of life you were meant to live: quiet, mated, marked, and out of sight.

But you had other plans.

At twenty, you’d done the unthinkable: applied to Jujutsu University. Not for a husband-hunting degree or some decorative arts program, but for a brutal, sleep depriving double major in biology and chemistry. You didn’t want comfort. You wanted autonomy.

Your suppressants worked well enough. The scent-blockers were top shelf, illegal to import without a license. And for the first four weeks, you thought you’d pulled it off. Two friends, Shoko and Utahime, both sharp tongued betas with no patience for alpha or omega drama. A studio apartment you could just barely afford. A schedule full of labs and lectures and no time for anyone to notice what you were.

Until the day your landlord let himself in for a “routine inspection” and didn't bother hiding the way his nose twitched. Thirty minutes later, you were standing on the curb with your textbooks in a trash bag and your omega status fully exposed.

You hadn’t cried, although your eyes shined with unshed tears. You didn’t argue. You were too used to people making decisions for you the second they smelled what you were.

And now?

Now you were on a stranger’s doorstep with your phone at 4% and your backpack digging into your shoulder, ringing Shoko’s buzzer at ten minutes past midnight.

She’d said it would be fine. She’d said she had space.

The door creaked open, casting a sliver of warm light across the dark hallway.

He filled the frame lazily. Tall, shirtless, tousled white hair falling into sleepy blue eyes that barely registered you for a second. A faint clink sounded as he shifted, the silver chain around his neck catching on his collarbone. He looked like he’d just woken up from the kind of nap that only people without real problems got to take.

And then his nose twitched.

It was subtle. The slight narrowing of his eyes. The way his jaw ticked once, almost like a reflex.

“...You’re the omega,” he said, voice low and flat.

Not hostile. Just observational. Like you were the answer to a question he didn’t remember asking.

You didn’t have the strength to answer. Not properly.

Your breath hitched before you could stop it, and you hated that it was the first thing he heard from you.

You were crying.

Not sobbing, not messy, not dramatic. Just silent, relentless tears that blurred your vision and soaked the collar of your shirt, born from exhaustion and rage and the bitter sting of being reminded that the world didn’t want you unless you were obedient.

He stared at you for a second. Not unkindly. Not kindly either. Just seeing you. Like he was reading something behind your eyes that you didn’t want anyone to know was there.

You dragged the back of your sleeve across your face and forced out something like, “Yeah. And you’re not wearing a shirt.”

The smirk came instantly, practiced and slow. “Guess we’re both a little exposed, huh?”

He didn’t ask if you were okay. Didn’t say you looked like hell, even though you did. Instead, he stepped back and opened the door fully. “Well, come in. You’re dripping on the welcome mat.”

His tone was dry, bored.Like letting in stray omegas at midnight was a weekly event.

You hesitated in the doorway.

He didn’t reach for your bag. Didn’t crowd you with fake concern. Just turned on his heel and walked down the hall, voice echoing casually behind him. “Sho said you’d be crashing for a while. Room on the left’s empty. Sheets are clean.”

You stepped inside, shutting the door quietly, the lock clicking louder than expected in the silence. The apartment was warmer than you thought it would be. Lived-in. Someone had stocked the kitchen with snacks. A spare hoodie hung over the back of the couch.

You tried not to fall apart again when you realized someone had put a box of tissues on the nightstand in the spare room along with a small chocolate bar.

You weren’t sure if it was Shoko or him, but either way, you’d been expected. Not welcomed, maybe. But not unwanted either.

From somewhere down the hall, his voice drifted again.

“Try to keep the crying down after 2 a.m., yeah?”

A pause.

“And drink some water before you pass out. You smell dehydrated.”

You let out something between a laugh and a sob, pulling the door shut behind you. Maybe this wouldn’t be the worst place to fall apart after all.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

Two weeks in, and you’d almost convinced yourself that living with Gojo Satoru was fine.

Sure, he was loud in the mornings, had a weird habit of opening the fridge 10 times in a row as if that would magically make a snack appear, and walked around the apartment like pants were optional. But he hadn’t crossed any lines.

If anything, he was... surprisingly easy to live with.

And that was the problem.

Because Gojo Satoru didn’t act like an alpha who’d been forced to room with an omega. He didn’t leer. He didn’t comment on your scent, even when you’d gone a little too long between suppressants. He didn’t hover. Not obviously.

But he noticed.

Shoko technically still lived there, too. But most nights, she was holed up at her girlfriend Yuki’s place on the other side of town. The apartment still smelled faintly like her beta-neutral sandalwood shampoo, but her laundry basket hadn’t moved in a week. The only sign she hadn’t moved out entirely was the occasional shift in the fridge contents and the echo of her sarcasm in your text history.

Which left you and Gojo. Alone. Constantly.

The first time, it was subtle. You’d forgotten to eat, late lab, two exams, and when you came home half dizzy, there was a takeout box on the counter with your name scrawled in Gojo’s messy script on a sticky note. No explanation.

The second time, you’d gone to leave the apartment without your coat. It was cold, but not unbearable. Still he’d watched you reach for the doorknob and tossed your jacket at your back without looking up from his phone.

“Wear that,” he muttered. “You smell thin.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what I mean.”

He never said omega. Never flaunted the biological advantage, never made it feel like a power thing. But he watched you in that quiet, infuriating way that said he knew more than you wanted him to.

And worse?

You were starting to notice him, too.

You told yourself it was nothing, the way his voice sounded too warm when he called you “princess” just to piss you off, or how your stomach twisted every time he stretched in the kitchen, shirt riding up to show a sliver of toned skin.

But it wasn’t nothing.

He was stupidly attractive. And worse, he smelled good. Like cedarwood and fresh air and something expensive you couldn’t name. The scent clung to the apartment. The couch cushions. The back of your throat.

And it was starting to drive you insane.

Because your body knew before your brain did. Every time he passed behind you, something in you tensed. Not in fear but awareness. That low, instinctive itch that whispered he’s strong, he’s close, he’s paying attention.

You caught him watching you once. Late at night, the hum of the fridge was the only sound between you. You were bent over your notes, hoodie sleeves pushed to your elbows, gnawing the cap of your pen, and you felt it, his gaze on the side of your face.

He didn’t look away when you glanced up.

Just smirked faintly and said, “You smell stressed. Eat something.”

You threw a granola bar at his head.

He caught it, one-handed.

“Violence,” he sighed dramatically. “How you show love.”

You rolled your eyes but the flush on your face didn’t go away for a full hour.

He was annoying. And bossy. And far too smug.

But he noticed when you were cold. When you were hungry. When your eyes were glassy from not sleeping enough.

And sometimes when he walked past you in the hall, too close, too casually, you noticed that his scent changed. Just slightly. A little deeper. A little sweeter.

And you weren’t sure if it was you reacting to him, or him reacting to you.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

Gojo’s P.o.v

She fell asleep at the kitchen table again.

Gojo found her there around 1 a.m., face tucked into the crook of her arm, pen still in her hand. Textbooks spread out like a battlefield. Half a granola bar flattened under her elbow.

He stood in the doorway for a minute. Didn’t move. Just watched.

She was curled up tight: hoodie too big, knees pulled to her chest, a frown ghosting across her face like she’d fallen asleep in the middle of being frustrated. He could see the edge of her scent suppressor patch poking out from under her collar, slightly askew.

Probably forgot to change it.

Again.

His nose twitched. Her scent was bleeding through faintly, warm and soft and fucking distracting. Not the full hit, not even close, but enough to make something low in his chest tighten.

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, leaned a hip against the counter.

He shouldn’t care. It wasn’t his job to care. They weren’t even friends. Not really.

Except he knew her class schedule now. Knew she chewed her pen when she was anxious and tapped her foot when she lied. Knew she always tried to look tougher than she felt.

He also knew she hadn’t eaten anything but caffeine and vending machine trash in two days.

He moved before he thought about it. Quiet steps. Careful hands.

Tugged a blanket from the couch and draped it over her shoulders. Not too close. Not too intimate. Just enough to keep her from waking up stiff and freezing.

He reached to straighten the suppressant patch.

Paused.

Didn’t touch it.

Didn’t trust himself to.

Instead, he pulled the box of them from the cabinet and dropped it next to her notes. No comment. No lecture. Just a quiet reminder.

And then he left. Not because he wanted to.

Because staying would mean inhaling her scent again.

And thinking things he shouldn’t be thinking.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

You woke up with a blanket draped over your shoulders again.

Second time this week.

And, like clockwork, your box of suppressants was sitting beside your notes, unopened, just far enough from your arm to say I didn’t touch you, but close enough to say I noticed.

Gojo never mentioned it. Never teased. Never hovered.

He just... did things.

Moved your laundry from the washer to the dryer without asking. Left your favorite ramen on the counter with a post-it note that said don’t skip lunch. Adjusted the thermostat at night when he thought you were sleeping cold. Always brushed past you in the hallway with a casual You good?, but never pushed if you weren’t.

It was starting to get hard to pretend you didn’t notice. Or that your stomach didn’t flip a little every time he did it.

And now you were heading to a party with him.

Well not with him. Shoko invited you both.

Apparently, Yuki’s best friend was throwing something “low-key” for the department’s upperclassmen. Shoko had waved off your half-protest with a wine glass in hand and a lazy grin. “Come on,” she’d said. “You’re overdue for a night where your blood isn’t 70% caffeine.”

So now you stood in the mirror, half-nervous, half-curious because it wasn’t often you got the chance to wear something nice. You’d gone simple: soft makeup, perfume light enough not to clash with your suppressants, a fitted dress that stopped a few inches above the knee. Classy. Subtle. A little daring for someone who lived in hoodies and sweats.

You heard Gojo’s voice from the hallway. “You ready yet? Shoko’s gonna start pregaming without us—”

The second you stepped out of your room, his words died in his throat.

He blinked. Once. Twice. He breathed in deeply before speaking.

“…Wow,” he muttered.

You shifted your weight. “Too much?”

“No.” His voice was low, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “No, you look good.”

The ride to the party was quiet, except for Shoko mumbling in the back seat about Yuki’s inability to remember which apartment she actually lived in. Gojo didn’t say much. Just glanced at you once or twice like he was trying not to.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

The party was packed.

Sweaty bodies, loud bass, someone already spilling something sticky on the floor. You stuck close to Shoko until she predictably disappeared into the hallway with Yuki, laughing over some inside joke that involved tequila and a stolen salt lamp.

You found yourself by the kitchen, fiddling with a drink, trying not to notice how many people were there, and how many of them were alphas.

You weren’t in heat. Your patch was fresh. But that didn’t stop the attention.

“Hey,” a voice said behind you, smooth and too-close. “Haven’t seen you around before.”

You turned to find a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a grin just a little too confident. He stepped closer, his eyes raking down your dress. “You here with anyone?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “My roommate.”

“Oh?” he smirked. “He your boyfriend?”

“No. Listen, I'm really not interested…”

“Then he won’t mind if I—”

You flinched as his arm wrapped itself behind you, his hand brushed your lower back, fingers dipping just low enough to make your stomach twist. You stepped back in fear and shock.

And then he wasn’t touching you anymore.

Because Gojo was there.

Fast. Quiet. Close.

His hand curled around your elbow, not hard, but firm. His voice low, almost lazy.

“She said she wasn’t interested.”

The guy scoffed. “Chill, man. I was just talking—”

Gojo smiled. It wasn’t nice.

“That wasn’t talking. That was a mistake.”

For a second, the tension was thick enough to cut. Then the guy muttered something under his breath and backed off, disappearing into the crowd.

You exhaled shakily.

Gojo still hadn’t let go of your arm.

“You okay?” he asked, finally looking at you, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded uncertaintly, pulse skipping. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you,really looked, and something in his expression shifted.

Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to drag you out of the party or kiss you against the fridge.

Instead, he leaned closer. Not enough to touch. Just enough for you to feel his breath by your ear.

“You smell scared,” he murmured. “I don’t like it.”

And then he was gone,disappearing into the crowd like nothing had happened.

But your heart was still racing.

And his scent sharp, grounding, alpha still lingered around you like a promise.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

The party had thinned out by midnight, and you were tired, buzzed, but not drunk, and still wound tight from the incident in the kitchen. Shoko had waved you off with a wink and mumbled something about “staying the night at Yuki’s, obviously,” before disappearing into an Uber.

Which left just you and Gojo.

The car ride home was quiet.

Not awkward, not exactly. Just… loaded.

You could still feel where his hand had gripped your arm, where his voice had dropped into something dangerous something protective. You kept your eyes on the window. The streetlights smeared into gold streaks, but you weren’t really seeing them.

He didn’t say anything until you were almost at your building.

“That guy’s lucky I didn’t break his hand.”

You blinked, turned toward him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I did.”

Silence again.

Then, as he pulled into the lot and put the car in park, he added more quietly, less sure of himself, “You looked good tonight.”

You swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Not just the dress,” he said. “You. You just... looked good.”

That made your chest tighten.

You didn’t know what possessed you to say it, but you did.

“I noticed you watching me.”

He looked over at you, sharp blue eyes catching yours. “Yeah?”

You nodded slowly. “Not just tonight.”

His jaw flexed, and for a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

Then he cut the engine.

You didn’t speak as you walked up to the apartment. Your heels clicked against the stairs. The tension between you stretched like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point.

When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys.

And that’s when you felt it.

Him.

Close.

Too close.

He was right behind you, just enough that his scent brushed along your back, thickened slightly with something sharp and warm and undeniably alpha. You froze.

“Gojo,” you said, warning, breath catching.

He didn’t touch you.

But his nose dipped low, barely an inch from your hairline. Just one long, slow inhale.

You felt it like a shiver down your spine.

“You changed your patch late,” he murmured, voice husky. “I can tell.”

You turned your head. Not enough to face him. Just enough to ask, quiet and unsure, “What are you doing?”

His breath was warm against your neck.

“Nothing,” he said. “Not really.”

But you felt it when he leaned in just a little closer. Just enough for the tip of his nose to skim the curve where your neck met your shoulder.

You swore the air itself went still.

“You smell like someone touched you,” he whispered. “Someone else.”

Your heart thudded, loud in your ears. “He didn’t really, just grazed me with his fingertips.”

“I know.” A beat. “But the scent’s still there.”

And then he did it, barely there, not skin to skin, but he dipped just low enough that his scent pressed over yours. Just a breath. Just a flicker of possession.

Your knees nearly buckled.

He stepped back first. Like it cost him.

“You should wash up,” he said, voice carefully neutral. “That guy’s scent, it’s annoying.”

You stared at him, pulse fluttering wildly.

Gojo opened the door like nothing had happened. Tossed his keys on the counter. Wandered to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water like it wasn’t still crackling in the air between you.

But his scent lingered. Hot. Thick. Claiming.

And when you passed him on the way to your room, he didn’t look at you.

But you felt his eyes on the back of your neck the entire time.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

The next morning, you tried to pretend everything was normal.

You woke up late. Took a long, scalding shower. Changed your suppressant patch early, even though the old one still had hours left on it. Just to be sure. Just to feel like yourself again.

But Gojo’s scent clung to you like phantom heat.

The worst part?

You didn’t want it to wash off.

He was already in the kitchen when you emerged, dressed in a hoodie and sweats, barefoot, mug in hand. You paused in the doorway, awkward, heartbeat stuttering.

He didn’t look up from his coffee.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Took a step forward. “About last night—”

“Nothing happened,” he cut in.

It stung more than it should have.

You folded your arms. “Didn’t feel like nothing.”

Silence. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

You shifted, suddenly angry. “You scent-marked me.”

“Barely.”

“But you did.”

His gaze finally snapped to yours, sharp, heated, cornered. “Yeah,” he bit out. “I did.”

You flinched. “Why?”

Another beat of silence.

Then, quieter: “Because I couldn’t stand that someone else did.”

You stared at him, breath catching. “Gojo…”

His name felt different now. Heavy with knowing.

He ran a hand through his hair, finally breaking. “I’ve been trying not to want this. You think I haven’t noticed how you smell when you're stressed? How you hold your breath when I get too close? You think I don’t know how you fake normalcy just to survive in a world that makes omegas feel like liabilities?”

Your chest tightened. “You make me feel safe.”

His breath hitched.

“And I don’t think I realized how much I needed that,” you whispered. “Until you.”

That finally broke something in him.

Gojo crossed the space between you in two strides, didn’t touch you, but hovered close. His voice dropped, lower than ever. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re not mine.”

“Then say it,” you said. “Say you want me.”

His nostrils flared.

“Say it, Satoru.”

He growled deep in his chest and pressed his forehead to yours. “I want you,” he whispered. “Not just because you’re an omega. Not just because you smell like comfort and fucking home. But because you’re you.”

You shuddered, breath stalling, heart thudding.

Then carefully, achingly he brought his lips to your neck.

And this time, he didn’t hold back.

It wasn’t a full bite. Not yet. But it was a press of his mouth to the curve of your throat, warm and deliberate, teeth just barely grazing over sensitive skin. The mark he left was temporary. But his scent—

His scent drowned you.

Hot. Safe. Possessive. Yours.

You exhaled shakily, hand fisting in the front of his hoodie. “I want you too,” you whispered.

He pulls himself away from your neck to bring his lips to yours in a heated, messy kiss.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

And smiled.

But it wasn’t cocky, not this time.

It was reverent.

Like he’d been waiting forever to hear that.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

Things changed after that.

They didn’t explode, not right away. There wasn’t some dramatic claim or frenzied marking. Just a shift, subtle, constant, undeniable.

You were dating. That was clear.

Or at least, you were doing everything that looked and felt like dating:

Gojo started sleeping in his own bed less. Then not at all.

His hoodies migrated into your closet, and you stopped giving them back.

He’d come home from class, kiss the top of your head like it was second nature, toss his shoes next to yours by the door. Sometimes, you’d catch him watching you from across the room like he couldn’t believe you were real. Other times, he’d just silently pull you into his chest and breathe you in, fingers curling around the back of your shirt like he wanted to keep you there.

And the scenting?

He was shameless now.

Not in public, not yet, but every time you left the apartment, he’d hug you just a little too long. Let his scent stick to the back of your neck, the collar of your sweater, the inside of your wrists.

“You’re mine,” he’d murmur casually. “Just making sure people know.”

It made your heart flutter.

Made your body ache.

Because you knew it was coming.

Your heat.

The last few cycles had been short and mild, mostly regulated by the patch. But this one? It was going to be different. You could feel it in your bones, in the way your skin buzzed under his touch, in the way your scent was already shifting.

Worse still?

He could feel it too.

He was tense lately. Even more protective. Growled when guys stared too long at the library. Gave your professor a death glare when he touched your shoulder. Carried your bag. Checked your patch levels. Made you eat. Drink water. Sleep. Rest.

You caught him sniffing your laundry once. He didn’t even look guilty.

“You gonna tell me what’s in your hoodie drawer or do I have to break in?” he teased one night, lying sideways across your bed like he owned it. You were brushing your teeth, wearing one of his shirts, slouchy, soft, scented.

You spat and leaned in the doorway. “Literally just your hoodies.”

“Oh,” he said, smirking. “So I was right to check?”

“You checked?”

“Every day,” he admitted, like it was no big deal. “You smell better in them than I do.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“I’m your weirdo,” he grinned, arms open.

And like always you melted into him.

He pulled you into his chest like he was born to do it. Nuzzled your temple. Pressed lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your hairline, your cheek, the corner of your jaw. Not sexual,not yet, just possessive.

And underneath all of it was the tension.

He smelled too good. Woodsy and fresh and sharp. You found yourself curling into him deeper, inhaling him like you were starved for it.

You were, in a way.

He caught it.

“You getting close?” he murmured.

You didn’t lie. “Yeah.”

His jaw tensed against your temple.

“We need to talk about it.”

“I know.”

“If I stay,” he said, “I’m not going to hold back.”

You shivered.

He exhaled roughly, and the sound of it near your ear made your thighs press together. He noticed that, too.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I can already smell the shift starting.”

You buried your face in his neck. “Then don’t leave.”

His arms tightened around you instantly. He growled. Low. Deep in his chest.

And when he spoke next, his voice was barely more than a whisper:

“I wasn’t going to.”

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

It started in class.

You were trying to focus. Scribbling notes, nodding along with the lecture, pretending everything was fine. But your patch had started to slip. Literally and figuratively. A dull burn had settled low in your belly hours ago, and now it was turning sharp, liquid heat spreading through your limbs, fogging your brain.

You could feel it happening.

Your scent was changing.

And worse, you weren’t alone.

Gojo was waiting outside.

The moment you walked out of class, it hit you like a freight train. He turned toward you with that usual lazy smile and then froze. His pupils dilated instantly. His nostrils flared. You could see the shift behind his eyes: instinct, raw and undeniable.

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re—”

“Go home,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Now. I can’t—”

He was already moving.

He didn’t say a word. Just pulled you to his side, threw his jacket around your shoulders, and practically marched you out of the building. People stared. You didn’t care.

You were shaking.

You didn’t even make it through the apartment door before your legs gave out.

Gojo caught you,arms around your waist, lifting you like nothing.

“You waited too long,” he growled, voice rough with restraint. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You buried your face in his neck, whining softly. “Didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

He carried you straight to the bedroom, kicked the door shut behind him, and laid you down carefully on the sheets. The scent of him flooded around you,rich, heady, grounding, and you felt yourself unraveling fast.

Your voice cracked. “It hurts.”

“I know, baby,” he whispered, crouching beside the bed, one hand smoothing down your arm. “I can smell it. You’re burning.”

Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes. “Please…”

That was it.

The last thread of his control snapped.

Gojo climbed onto the bed slowly, like you were something fragile he was terrified to break. But his body said something different his scent said something different. It wrapped around you like smoke. You whimpered and turned your face into his hoodie—his scent all over you, his hoodie, his bed, his body.

“Tell me what you need,” he said, voice low and guttural.

“You,” you breathed. “I need you. Satoru, I need you.”

He let out a low, hungry sound half growl, half whimper and leaned down to nose at your neck. “Say it again.”

You curled your fingers into his shirt, hips arching. “I need my Alpha.”

That was it.

He kissed you like he was starving, possessive, deep, desperate. His hands were everywhere: mapping your skin, soothing your trembling, pulling you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies.

“I’ve got you,” he rasped. “No one else. Just me.”

Your scent filled the room, sweet and slick and overwhelming. He rutted against you with a groan, every inch of his restraint slipping through his fingers.

“You want me to claim you?” he murmured against your throat. “Want to be mine?”

You whimpered helplessly, needy.

“Yes. Please. Want to be yours.”

The second the words left your mouth,“I want to be yours”,he snapped.

Not violently. Not uncontrolled. But with purpose.

Gojo surged forward, pressing you down into the mattress, his body trembling with restraint he wasn’t going to bother holding anymore. His lips crashed to yours again, messier now teeth, tongue, need. Every sound he made was low and rough and Alpha.

“Say it again,” he groaned against your mouth. “Say it’s mine.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped. “Satoru, I’m yours.”

That lit him on fire.

He nosed at your throat, dragging his mouth down the curve of your neck, sucking kisses into your skin like he was already staking a claim. His hands slid under your borrowed hoodie,his hoodie,ripping it off in a single motion, scenting the skin underneath like a starving man.

“You smell like me,” he whispered reverently. “Fuck, you smell so perfect.”

You whined, writhing under him. “Please,please, it hurts—”

“I know, baby, I know. I’ve got you,” he murmured, one hand bracing your hip, the other slipping down, finally, to where you were soaking, swollen, ready. “Let me make it better.”

You arched with a gasp as his fingers slid in easily, heat spiking at the contact. He groaned at how wet you already were,slick and pulsing and desperate. His scent wrapped around you even thicker now, heavy and heady, like musk and fire and safety.

“This all for me?” he rasped. “Fuck, you were made for me.”

“Only you,” you choked out. “Need you—need your knot—”

That broke the last of him.

He lined himself up, hands gripping your hips like he owned you because he would. Soon. Forever.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growled. “Breed you so good. Knot you so deep no one’ll ever think about touching you again.”

You cried out as he sank into you,slow, deep, thick,and the stretch of him was perfect, the relief so blinding you nearly sobbed. He went slow at first, grinding in deep, dragging every ounce of friction against your walls.

“So good,” he whispered. “You take me so fucking good.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop—please—want your bite—want to be yours.”

Gojo’s breath stuttered.

“Yeah?” His voice was shaking now. Unhinged. “You want my mark? You want to belong to me?”

“Yes,” you gasped. “Please, Satoru. Bite me.”

He snapped his hips forward hard once,twice,then leaned down, mouth brushing the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Mine.”

Then he bit.

The pain was sharp, bright, perfect. A flood of pheromones burst through your system the second his fangs pierced you, sending you both over the edge. You screamed his name as your body clamped down around him, your climax tearing through you with a sob.

He followed instantly groaning your name, knot swelling, locking you together with a desperate, grinding thrust that drove him as deep as he could possibly go.

He stayed there.

Buried in you. Breathing hard. Arms around you like a shield.

His mouth left your neck only to kiss it tenderly now, as he licked the blood from your bond mark. “You’re mine now,” he whispered. “My Omega. My mate.”

Your vision blurred, heart hammering, body aching—but safe. Sated.

Loved.

You smiled softly against his jaw.

✦ ⋆｡˚ 𓆩♡𓆪 ˚｡⋆✦

The world had gone still.

You were tucked beneath the comforter, his arms wrapped tight around your waist, bare skin against bare skin. Gojo’s knot was still nestled deep inside you, keeping your bodies locked, and neither of you minded. It felt right. Like the place you were meant to be.

His breath was warm against the back of your neck. He hadn't said much since the bite. Just small things:hushed praise, murmured reassurance, the occasional kiss pressed to your shoulder as if to prove you were real.

You rolled to face him slowly, carefully. His eyes,normally teasing and bright,were softer now. Blown wide. Worshipful.

He stared at you like you were everything.

“I was scared,” you whispered, your voice small in the silence. “Not of you. Just… of this. Of being an Omega. Of being claimed.”

His brows furrowed. “Why?”

You hesitated. “Because people act like that’s all we’re good for. Like we’re made for heat and nesting and breeding and nothing else. I thought if I let this happen, I’d lose myself.”

Gojo was quiet for a long time.

Then, slowly, he reached up and brushed your hair from your damp forehead. His touch was reverent.

“You didn’t lose anything,” he said, voice low. “You chose me. That’s not weakness.”

You looked away, embarrassed. “But I’m not like other Omegas.”

He smiled.

“I know.”

That made you glance back at him. “Do you?”

He nodded once, firm. “You’re smart. You’re stubborn. You’re brilliant. You’re reckless sometimes, but in the way that makes people pay attention. You work harder than anyone I know, and you fight twice as hard just to exist the way you want. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Heat prickled behind your eyes. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m saying it because you need to hear it. You're not just an Omega. You’re my Omega. And I don’t want you small, or quiet, or safe. I want you. All of you.”

Your throat tightened.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“They don’t get to decide who you are,” he whispered. “But I do get to love you for it.”

You let out a soft, broken sound and curled into his chest.

He held you like the most precious thing he’d ever touched. “You’re not a bond mark or a heat cycle. You’re a person.You’re mine.”

You smiled into his skin.

“And you’re mine, Alpha.”

[munsonsmixtapes]

Put it on My Tab

bouncer!!logan x bartender!fem!reader

summary: You’re a bartender at the club where Logan is a bouncer and he’s going to deny his feelings for you until he’s convinced himself that he’s lost his chance.

cw: hurt/comfort

“Do you really think you can get away with this?” Logan asked the girl who was standing in front of him. She clearly wasn’t of age and the photo on the fake she had handed him hadn’t even resembled her. And the cherry on top that was that “Minnesota” was missing one of the n’s.

“And do you really expect me to believe that you were born in 1988? You don’t even look like you could have been born in 1998. I can’t let you in, kid.” He could see that the girl was crying and to the untrained eye, she definitely could have been. But Logan had been in the business long enough to know that she was just trying to garner sympathy, which never worked on him. Crying, if anything, just made the man feel uncomfortable. 

“You’re such a dick,” she cried as she watched him bend the ID right before her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time he was called that and it certainly wouldn’t have been the last. 

The ID was tossed into the trash can right next to him and he waved the next person forward as the girl slowly moved out of the way, making her sobs louder and more pathetic as a way to get him to change his mind, but he wouldn’t. He never did. 

“You’re good,” he told the man as he glanced over his ID before handing it back. The job got monotonous, but it was definitely better than being Wolverine, as far as how easy it was. And it definitely wasn’t stressful unless there was a fight he needed to break up, but security usually handled it before he got there. 

He actually loved his job, if he was being honest, but that was really only because of you. The second he laid eyes on you, he was convinced that he was in love. Maybe. He didn’t know what love felt like, but all he knew was that he liked you. A lot. Even though he was going to convince himself that he didn’t. He tried to be mean to you to make you leave him alone, but that only made you want to see him more. And let’s be honest, as soon as you flashed him that megawatt smile, he was done for. His legs felt like jelly and he couldn’t help but smile back even though it felt very foreign. 

And as soon as you told him he had a pretty one, he was smiling all the time for you, just begging for you to say it again, and you did. If it wasn't that, you were calling him nicknames which would have usually angered him, but since they were coming from your lips, he hardly minded.

The night seemed to drag on as he counted down the minutes until he could have a drink at the bar, just you and him as everyone else had gone home. You had insisted on staying, giving him a drink in exchange for a ride home that he always gladly gave you once the alcohol was out of his system.

He smiled as he saw that his glass of whiskey was sitting on the bar, but you were nowhere to be found. He supposed that maybe you were in the back, neatening up the space. But when he went to check the back room, his heart sank as he saw you giggling with Brett, the bar back.

He had seen the two of you doing that exact thing on multiple occasions and it made him sick, angry even. Even though he didn’t feel like he had a right to be because the two of you were just friends. And perhaps that was what he was convincing himself that he was to you. Even though he wanted to be more. Even though he often fantasized about kissing you right in front of Brett to show him what was what. And on some occasions, he imagined bending you over the bar and having his way with you. Pounding into you, making you tell him who exactly it was who owned your cunt.

“Oh, hey, handsome,” you greeted with that smile that always drove him crazy and he couldn’t help but mimic your actions. Because the truth was that he couldn’t be mad at you if he tried. You somehow had broken down his walls brick by brick and had even managed to thaw his frozen heart.

“Hi,” he replied, trying his best to not let his literal claws come out, trying to keep his cool and do those breathing exercises that you had worked on with him.

“Hey, Leonard, was it?” Brett asked, averting his gaze to Logan and the man was close to rocking his shit, you could see it.

“It’s Logan,” you corrected. “I’m all good here, Brett, if you want to head out.”

“Okay, cool,” he nodded and clapped you on the back before weaving his way through the maze of boxes, moving quickly past Logan and fleeing the room, leaving the two of you alone.

You stared him, covering your lips with the tips of your fingers in an attempt to hold back the laugh that was threatening to escape your throat. And Logan was not having it. The night was long and he was just ready to go home, his whiskey that he so desperately wanted, getting watered down by the second.

You stepped forward, pushing the boxes out of the way, moving to stand on front of him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you gave him a warm smile only for him to turn away from you, his signature scowl making its way back upon his face.

Without a word, you grabbed hold of his chin and forced him to look you in the eyes, still trying to hold that smile, desperate to see his own, the one that was specifically for you.

“Smile for me,” you commanded, your voice still soft. He showed you his teeth, but there was no actual smile. “Logan,” you giggled. “Just for me? Please?”

He smiled then, showing you his teeth and you felt your heart swell, knowing that you were the only person who could make him do it. And your heart leapt as you saw it slowly appearing on his face, pulling him into a hug.

“I’m not with Brett, by the way,” you changed the subject rather quickly. “He’s just a friend. More like a brother actually.”

"What?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing and you desperately wanted to smooth them out, to find a way to help his mind stop from reeling.

"I'm not with Brett," you repeated, closing the space between the two of you, reaching up to move a piece of hair that had fallen to his forehead, putting it back in place.

“You say that as if it’s supposed to mean somethin’” he muttered, his signature frown making a reappearance.

“I thought it did," you shrugged. "Because if looks could kill, he’d definitely be dead.”

He just glared at you and you smiled again, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck while his stayed by your side. His hands were itching to hold you and he was trying to fight it off, trying to convince himself that he wasn't so desperately, hopelessly in love with you.

"And it should mean something to you." Your finger poked his chest and he just stared back at you, clearly missing the point of what you were trying to get at.

"Why?" His head tilted to the side like a little puppy and you just sighed, wondered why he wasn't understanding what you were trying to say. Wasn't it obvious? Maybe you were being too vague, but you were sure that you had said everything you could to get your point across except the actual words.

"Because," you rolled your eyes. "Look at the facts, Logan. We both know I get a lot of people asking to take me home every night and I let the grumpy bouncer drive me home. What does that say to you?"

"That you aren't looking for anything." You let out a sigh of frustration and shook your head, making Logan even more nervous. What was it that you needed to tell him and why did you need to say it in the back room of your place of work?

"Oh geez, I guess I'm going to have to spell it out for you, aren't I?" You chuckled nervously and Logan felt his heart pound in his chest as it all finally clicked in his head. Your hands rested on his cheeks and you looked into pretty hazel eyes.

"Logan, I'm in love with you," you said, watching his his widen, his mouth falling open as the six words set in. He just stared at you in response and you were beginning to take that as rejection.

Your arms slipped from his neck and seeing the look on your face was enough to break his heart into a million little pieces. And as he watched you make you way your way out of the back room, he could have sworn that he could see you wiping tears away from your cheeks.

You were leaving. You were leaving and he was just going to let you. You were quickly slipping through his fingers as the seconds passed and he felt sick to his stomach thinking about the possibility of losing you.

So he ran. He ran as fast as he possibly could, following you out to the parking lot where you were heading to your car that you had actually driven there for once. You stopped to pull your keys out of your purse and Logan took the chance to stand in front of you, stopping you from moving.

"Get out of my way," you commanded, but he just stood there, staring you down.

"No," he said firmly. "Not until I'm done speaking. And then you can keep hating me, but I need to get this out, okay?" He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm in love with you," he said. "I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've never felt this way about anyone and honestly didn't think that you reciprocated my feelings, so when you told me that you loved me, I don't know...I just panicked." He was talking a mile a minute and you honestly barely understood him, ut you got the jist.

"So please don't leave," he pleaded his hands finding your waist. "Stay, because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you left."

"You love me?"

"More than you'll ever know, doll," he replied and pulled you into a kiss, neither of you bothered by the loud sound of your keys and purse falling to ground as your arms found their way to his neck once again. "Now let's get out of here."

"But what about the whiskey," you asked against his lips and he just chuckled.

"Just put it on my tab," he replied before pulling you in for another kiss.

You stayed like that until the early morning, kissing and giggling to each other, sitting on the hood of your car to watch the sunset together then heading back to your place for some much needed sleep before talking about how you were going to move forward over coffee and breakfast.

[bookworrm1999]

How Far Away? Part 2

Caleb x Mc

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she’s pregnant. She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Epilogue

2 weeks had passed but time dragged on slow for you.

You were back at your place and back to work. Being in Caleb’s home without him there was both comforting but so very lonely.

You didn’t know if it was the depression, the loneliness, or the memory of Caleb’s small sob that you had caught that last day you were together.

But you weren’t eating, your clothes felt a little looser but you felt a little bloated in your lower stomach.

Maybe it was your period coming…

This thought stuck with you as you filled out your report. Tara stopped by your desk, eyes glittering with worry.

“Are you doing ok?”

You muster up a smile and laugh

“Yeah I’m fine, why?”

“Your face looks worn and skinny. Are you eating ok?”

“Just had a bit of a stomach bug.”

The captain was walking nearby, she stopped hearing your words and turned to look at you with narrowed eyes.

“You’re sick?”

“Uh, I think so, maybe? I’ve felt like I have been anyways.”

“Go home early today and go see your doctor. We don’t need a virus sweeping through the association and leaving us with minimal staff.”

You sighed, you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

Typing up the last words on your most recent take down of a rogue wanderer. You catch a rare glimpse of your partner Xavier.

His eyes seemed to scan you as he asked

“Are you okay?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation and stand up to leave for the day.

“Not you too! I’m fine, don’t worry.”

He kept his eyes on you as you gathered your coat and bag.

“If you’re sure…”

“Yes I’m sure Xavier, good night.”

You didn’t bother putting on your coat as you left the building. You grabbed your phone and dialed the doctor's office.

“Akso Hospital, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I’d like to make an appointment to see Doctor Zayne as soon as possible.”

“Can I have your patient number?”

As you boarded the subway to head home, you read off your number. The city started to pass you by as you waited in silence.

“Actually he has an opening tonight at 6 PM, can you make it?”

You check the time, it’s 5:15 PM. Just enough time to stop somewhere and grab a protein drink since that’s all you can stomach.

“Yes I can make it, thank you.”

“We will see you at 6 then. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

You slip your phone into your pocket and lay your head on the window. Your stomach churns, but you haven’t felt hunger since Caleb left.

All that food he had made, it was all wasted.

He had packed it up all neatly in the fridge for you but you had spent the few days left at his house over the toilet.

So it had gone into the trash, making you feel horrible. Who knows when you’d get to taste his cooking again?

Who knows what your relationship would be like when he got home?

Caleb had left you that little note saying he was sorry, it was tucked into the case of your phone.

A physical reminder for you that he had really been here.

He wouldn’t be back for 4 months though. Keeping yourself busy was the only way to avoid sinking into the deep rut you could feel coming on.

Your long sigh fogged up the glass, winter was coming.

Getting off the subway, you headed to a nearby cafe. Inside the atmosphere was warm but all your focus was on that sad beige drink in a carton inside the fridge rack.

You grabbed it and waited in line.

Spacing out at first but a familiar voice caught your attention.

“I’ll pay for her drink too.”

“Zayne?”

“Going to workout?” You glanced down at your protein drink and laughed a bit.

“No, just about all I can stomach these days.”

You followed him to the side of the counter where he grabbed his presumably sickeningly sweet treat in a box.

Zayne frowned a bit before asking

“Are you sick?”

“I think so. I actually have an appointment here with you soon at 6. My boss insisted I go check before I go back to work.”

He nodded a bit before holding the door open for you.

“I’ll walk you there then.”

Companionable silence follows you down the streets. As do all you thoughts of Caleb.

You can’t help but feel that the reason he was so scared to define your relationship is because of what the Fleet higher ups might do.

All the secrets and what they were up to. Caleb wanted to keep you out of it but he also wanted you next to him.

It was quite the conundrum, you got it.

But it wasn’t fair to either of you.

Sighing deeply, letting out a waft of visible breath in front of you.

Oh well, you’d have to wait for him to come home to even fix things.

No communication was possible between ground and deepspace.

You followed Zayne in silence up to his office. He motioned the receptionist to check you in as he watched you with worried eyes.

You were uncharacteristically quiet.

Zayne set his box down at his desk and took a seat, he motioned at the seat in front of him for you to sit.

Sitting without a word, you could tell your silence unnerved him.

But you didn’t have the energy to play polite right now.

“What are your symptoms?” He brought up your vitals while asking you specifics.

“I’ve been feeling nauseous all through the day, been a bit a dizzy but that’s probably because I haven’t been eating much. I don’t have much of an appetite and I think I’ve lost a little weight.”

“You look like you haven’t been sleeping well either.”

Averting your eyes, you deflect

“That doesn’t have to do with this.”

“Mmmm, if you insist.”

He flicks through your vitals before something catches his attention.

“Are you sexually active?”

This question startles you a bit but you answer hesitantly

“Yes… what does that have to do with anything. Wait…. are you saying?”

“Yes. I’m seeing evidence of you being pregnant. Looks like it’s 5 weeks along but we can do some more in depth scans to be sure.”

You don’t hear anything after that.

Feeling a mixture of dread, wonder, happiness, and wondering how the hell you were going to deal with this?

“Was this a wanted pregnancy?” This question snapped you out of your spiral.

“Well I didn’t even know that I was pregnant! But….. yes, I think so.” Caleb’s baby. You bring your hands to your slightly bloated abdomen.

Ah, that’s why.

You hadn’t even noticed that your period was late in all the turmoil.

“I can give you a referral to an OB if that’s what you prefer.”

“Yes thank you, I appreciate it.”

He sends you some virtual information and lets you know that you should read the e-book on what to expect.

“Thank you Zayne.”

“Right, well you should get home. The information I sent you should have some foods that may be easier to keep down. I would suggest reviewing those and actually eating something. The weight you’ve lost already isn’t great for the baby or you.”

You suddenly feel guilty, not that you knew that you were pregnant but it still made you feel bad.

“Yes thank you Zayne, good night.”

You start to head out but he calls your name out so you stop to look back at him expectantly.

He seems to swallow a bit harshly before uttering

“Congratulations”

Smiling for real for the first time in half a month, you glow at him

“Thank you!”

You head out and head home.

Caleb may be gone for now but he had left you something very precious.

You hadn’t thought that you would be pregnant in your relationship quite this soon but you did what this baby. It was Caleb’s after all.

Wait

Caleb.

He doesn’t know and you have no way of telling him. He won’t be gone for the whole pregnancy but he was going to miss a lot of the early important milestones.

You don’t even know if he wants the baby.

No no, you shake your head.

He would definitely want this baby.

Determined now, you reach your apartment and sit on your couch while sipping your sad protein drink.

Using your phone, you look at the list of foods in the information Zayne sent over.

Crackers, ginger, fruits, a lot of mild and still somewhat sad foods but it was better than a protein drink.

Quickly tabbing over to a delivery app, you load up on early pregnancy foods to be sent over that night.

Task completed, you stretch back over the couch.

What a long day.

Oh! You could write letters and send Caleb voice as well as video messages so that when he gets back he’ll have a total record of what happened.

That way he could still be a part of it in some way.

Settling down into the couch, you hold your phone up to record your face.

“Hi Caleb! Guess what!?”

Making a show out of it, you bring your face close to the camera and glare at the imaginary Caleb.

“You got me pregnant! All those times you told me you would just pull out have come back to bite you. I told you so!”

You laugh a bit before continuing

“But really, I’m excited. I miss you so much so this is like having a small piece of you with me always.”

You look down where you had been unconsciously rubbing that small bloat that really wasn’t a true bump yet.

“Oh do you want to see?”

You place the phone on the coffee table, propping it up against your fake plant.

“See! It’s not a true bump but you can feel the firmness and see my little soon to be bump.”

You run your hand over it to exaggerate it. Smiling down sadly before glancing back at the camera.

“I wish you had been here to find out with me. You would’ve probably fainted if I had taken a test to check and I showed you the positive result. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t have!”

You tear up a bit at the thought of him being gone for all this.

“I wish you were here…”

You grabbed your phone and brought it back to your face again.

“But I’ll send you lots of updates! So you can see them all when you get back! I love you Caleb. Come home soon okay?”

You stop the recording, sending it to him. Knowing he wouldn’t see it for a few months. But you were just glad to make him a part of the process somehow.

All the while, unaware that Caleb may never come home to you.

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22 @tinnyrabbit @gavin3469 @midiplier @tabi-callico

[bluekidchaos]

I don't need to know where we begin and end (I'd still know you)

there is so little haymitch smut so i made some myself :3 might write a similar fic to this but no smut only angst and fluff maybe..

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, nightmares, panic, unprotected sex, technically age gap but it's not mentioned, pet names (sweetheart and baby), no use of pronouns but female parts mentioned

Words: 841

Can also be read on AO3!

Back to masterlist.

You wake up with a scream, sweat dripping down your forehead as you pant. You feel arms holding you down and you trash in a panic trying to get loose, your ears are ringing and you look around the room frantically catching your breath and trying to reassure yourself that you are safe at home and not in the arena. 

Your eyes land on Haymitch, who is fully awake next to you, holding you in his arms and shushing you. His voice finally cuts through the ringing and you hear the panic in his own voice. 

"Sweetheart, you're safe, you're in district 12. Not in the arena." He's petting your hair and rocking you slowly. "I'm here with you, it's alright."

You turn in his arm and cling to him, sobbing into his chest and he holds you tight. The pressure of his arms around you grounds you as he keeps talking, telling you you are safe and he's there for you. 

When you had calmed down a bit more he asked what he could do to help you, always being so caring and gentle in moments like these. 

"Distract me, please?" You answered as you kissed him sweetly. He nodded and kissed you back, a bit more intensely.

Haymitch used his weight to position you on your back again with him leaning over you, still kissing you. One of his hands cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip and pulling it down a bit. He used the opening to slip his tongue inside your mouth, letting it glide against your own. You moaned into his mouth and bucked your hips against his thigh. 

His lips traveled down your neck, sucking and nipping at all the right places, leaving little marks in his path. Neither of you bothered undressing properly, only pulling up your sleep shirt to expose your chest so he could wrap his lips around your nipples. 

Haymitch was only in a pair of pajama pants so your hand dragged down his stomach towards his cock. Nails scraped over the sensitive scars there before dipping below his waistband and wrapping around his hard member. He let out a groan at the feeling of your warm hand around him.

His own hand slipped down to pull your panties down, fingers dipping into your heat. Spreading your lips apart and smearing your wetness over your clit. Rubbing his finger gently in a circular motion and adding more pressure with every swipe. 

Your head drops to Haymitch's shoulder as you moan out at his movements, panting into the space between his neck and shoulder. You plant light kisses over his neck, "Please, fuck me Haymitch..." Words trailing off as his hand once again quickens its pace. 

He groaned at your desperate whines and nodded his head eagerly. 

He moves his hand to reach back to his bedside table to grab a condom but you stop him and lock eyes with him. He looks at you confused for a second. "I really wanna feel you, just wanna feel you, all of you." 

"Fuck, sweetheart, of course-" Haymitch moves the two of you so your leg is slung over his waist and positions himself at your entrance, looking back up at you for consent before pushing inside in one move and moaning at the feeling of you. "God, baby, you're gonna be the death of me." Planting more kisses all over your face as he starts to move. 

Your hands plant themself on him, one around his shoulder to claw at his back with every thrust that hits your sweet spot, and one tangled into his hair. You used the leg not around his waist to help push yourself up and down on him, following his pace. Lips alternating between messy kisses and planting hickeys on each other, any surface of skin you could reach in your current position got covered in bruises and bite marks. 

Haymitch's hands hold you close to him, groping you and grabbing at your plush hips and ass to get you even closer. One hand lands on your thigh to help you move with him and the other sneaks down to your clit. Rubbing circles over you that makes you see stars. 

The room was silent except for the sound of your breaths and quiet moans. 

Your eyes lock with his, silently telling each other you're close, your cunt clenching down on him hard while his hips stutter in their pace as he's pushing the last few times before you fall over the edge. Haymitch's orgasm is just behind. 

Lips attaching as he fucks you through your orgasms. Heavy breaths, high-pitched moans, and low growls carry through the room as you both calm down. 

None of you bothered to untangle your limbs, just staying in each other's arms and laying in the afterglow. Haymitch's arms hugged you close to him, his hand stroking your back lightly. "You feel any better, sweetheart?" 

You chuckled in his arms, planting a final kiss on his lips with a smile, "Much."

[rikiislvr]

unavailable - nishimura riki

pairing: afab!reader x nishimura riki

summary: fresh out a relationship with a heavy heart, niki seeks comfort in his best friend, not knowing you were falling for him

warnings: cussing

you had just finished showering, drying your hair off, you glance back at your phone, nope. no messages.

niki, your best friend since childhood, was on a date with his girlfriend, he was freaking out and telling you all the details until he suddenly just stopped, so you wondered what they were doing now.

you adored them together. whenever you saw them in the hallway giggling together or holding hands, you couldn’t help but feel so happy for your best friend that he found someone who makes him happy.

you check the time, 12 at midnight, you let out a long yawn and shut the lights, climbing in your bed and putting your phone aside.

before you could finally get the long awaited sleep you’ve been craving all day, your phone rang, you groan,

you grab your phone and answer it,

“hello?” you heard him, his voice shaky,

“niki? what’s up? how’d it goooo~” you say teasingly, but your smile quickly faded when you heard sniffs, was.. he crying?

“ki?” you say again,

“i’m.. outside.” he says, you quickly got up and ran down, quietly not to wake your parents.

you open the door softly, looking up, niki had his head down, tears streaming down his face and flowers that were drooped over in his hands. you couldn’t help but frown at his state.

“ki.” you walked up and pull him in a hug, which is took as a opportunity to cry in your shoulder, “cmon, my parents will wake up.” you pull away and step aside,

he steps in slowly and you close the door, going up to your room, he followed.

you close your bedroom door once you two were in, he sighed and threw the flowers in your trash bin, and sat on the edge of your bed.

you cross your arms, “what happened ki?” you say softly, “she uh..” he cleared his throat, “she ended things off..”

you felt your heart shatter, you knew how much he loved her. “my goodness.. why?” you sat beside him,

“i’m not what she was looking for anymore..” he shrugged, you furrowed your eyebrows.

not what she was looking for anymore? they’ve been dating for 5 months and she’s just now realizing it?

“that’s such bullshit. i’m sorry.” you sigh and rub his arm,

before you could open your mouth to say anything else, niki quickly lounged in your arms, sobbing softly into your shoulder, your heart broke.

you’ve seen and heard him cry before growing up but.. never like this. and it was killing you inside, because you only ever rooted for his happiness.

you rub his back, closing your eyes listening to his sobs, it was killing you but you knew he had to let it out somehow.

you decided to let him get more comfortable. “ki. cmon let’s get your in a more comfy state.” you tap his arm, he sniffed and pulled back, his face red with tears streaming down.

you frown and grabbed his hand and pulled him to your bathroom, you tuned in the light and looked up at him.

“i’m not gonna let you drive home like this.” you say, he didn’t reply, you grab a wet washcloth and wipe his face,

pushing back his hair to reveal his puffy red eyes, “i’m so sorry ki.” you sigh, he just blinked, you removed his jacket and pulled him back to your room.

“i’ll let you sleep in my bed, i’ll take the couch okay?” you tell him, on niki’s end, he wanted to protest, and he did.

“why?” he says low, “we’ve always slept together as kids.”

you chuckled, “i wasn’t sure if you wanted to be alone or not.” you shrug, he shook his head, “no.. not really. i can’t be alone with my thoughts right now.” he cleared his throat, you smiled softly and nod.

laying down, you lift your blanket for him to lay beside you, he slowly made his way over, laying down. you weren’t sure if you should comfort him or give him space.

you laid on your back, slowly blinking off, you were on the peak of sleep until you felt pressure on your arm, you look over, seeing niki laid his head there, sniffing softly.

you frowned, and wrapped your arm around him, pulling him to lay against you, “you’re gonna be okay, alright? we’ll get through this together.” you reassure him, he nodded and closed his eyes softly.

you waited for a bit, and until you heard his breathing slow a bit, you knew he was sleep, you smiled to yourself.

you were just glad you could be here for him when he needed a shoulder to cry on, it made you feel special. and with that, you closed your eyes next, falling asleep shortly after.

a/n: debating if i should continue this or not, i lowkey want tooooo 😙

tl: @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr @geniejunn @pkjay @chaevibes @jiyeons-closet

[steviewashere]

One Day I Am Gonna Grow Wings

Rating: Mature CW: Implied/Referenced Domestic Abuse, Alcoholism/Alcohol Abuse, Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Depression, Minor Suicidal Ideation, Implied/Referenced Cheating (But Not on Anybody Important; You'll See), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Vomiting Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post Break-Up, Past Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Drunk Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Self Esteem Issues, Negative Self Talk, Self Hatred, Steve's Current Girlfriend Sucks, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Steve Harrington Is Not Okay, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug (And Gets One), Defensive Steve Harrington, Worried Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Hopeful Ending Title is from "Let Down" by Radiohead

💔—————💔 He doesn’t know what changed—it’s the same night he goes through. Drink until he’s swaying and slurring and warm. Climb into bed with someone—anyone. And then make a run for it in the morning; raging headache, aching teeth, and all. He finds a party and crashes it and keeps crashing it until he gets his end goal—a person in bed with him—or somebody realizes he doesn’t belong there and throws him out by the scruff of his neck.

The drinks are in his system. Everything around him blurring and tilting on its side. He’s not sure who he’s looking at when he reaches for them, when they touch him and coo at him. Whoever he’s bumped into treats him with a sweet sort of care he hasn’t had since—

No, he tells himself, don’t think about him tonight.

Rescinding memories of brown eyes and freckled soft cheeks, Steve nearly upchucks on his own sneakers. But the stranger is holding his face now, surely pasty and sweaty, and leading them down a seemingly endless hallway, right into the deep darkness of somebody’s unclaimed bedroom. The mattress is soft. This stranger’s fingers are softer as they help him toe out of his sneakers, yet leave him to struggle with his jeans. Whoever they are, they’re respectful—too respectful, if you were to ask Steve; he needs to be fucked, rough and unkind and brutal until he’s choking and sobbing on emotions, until he’s smacked a little loose and left in the wake of his own sore desires; he’s supposed to be treated like dirt—at least he thinks.

Steve’s tucked under the blanket. A cool washrag draped over his sweat beading forehead. Laid on his side with a trash can placed conveniently along the side of the bed. In a bleary whirlwind, he watches this stranger set out a glass of water and some Advil. And then he’s left on his own—the party now died out beyond the bedroom door, and the stranger disappearing behind it.

He tosses and turns and chokes himself with the duvet.

Then—

Birds are chirping outside, but the curtains are drawn tight. The bedroom is partially familiar, yet completely new all at the same time. He recognizes some of the bands on the wall: Metallica, Judas Priest, and he believes Accept—though that one’s a toss-up considering how faded all these posters are. There’s laundry strewn about the space, cigarettes in a full ashtray, a leaning tower of tapes. Some amps and chords and—

Eddie. He’s in Eddie Munson’s fucking room.

Hastily, Steve darts for the nearest container he can find—the tall kitchen garbage can from last night. His throat burns, pinches, and expels the contents of whatever he found. It’s all sour, though, so it’s not like he can pinpoint what exactly he got into. Some heavy alcohol, for sure, since he doesn’t remember climbing into this bed. His nostrils flare and sting, breath choking out between harsh, wet gags. When he finally pulls back from the opening of the can, he’s unsure how long he was out of it.

The bag is…decently full and the smell is atrocious and his whole mouth tastes like bile. He heaves for breath, chest moving up and down in harsh, painful builds. His stomach cramps around nothing, phantom things as if to punish him. And when he reaches up to scratch his cheeks, he’s met with his usual rough skin wet with tears. Great, he thinks, I’m sobbing like a baby in my ex’s bedroom. Such a cool guy thing to do, Steve; really outdid yourself this time, Steve.

Somebody knocks on the bedroom door, pushing it open with a soft click of the doorknob. “You doing okay?” And that’s…

That’s Eddie’s voice. Raspy from smoking, yet still soft around the edges. He’s looking through the gap of the door. Big brown eyes, shiny in the dim light, his hair all the same wild though healthier looking around him, and his face full of honest concern.

Steve takes a deep breath and traces the ache of it in his heart and his lungs, down to his toes. “Puke,” he says, “I puked, ‘m sorry.”

The door opens further. Eddie steps inside. Tall and broad and healthy. His skin no longer pale, now tanned gently from the recent early summer sun. He still looks concerned, eyebrows wrinkled down his face, mouth pinched. Softly, “You don’t have to apologize, Steve. I put the can out just in case. You were…you were really out of it last night.”

He sniffles. “I drank, like, a lot…”—swallows the last dredges of bile still stuck like velcro to his throat—“…I think.”

“Your breath smelt like alcohol pretty strongly,” Eddie says—gentle, always so fucking gentle, “I’m not shocked you don’t remember.”

Steve shrugs. “Guess I was too wasted.” That’s been happening a lot more, he doesn’t say, sorry if that worries you. He reaches for the glass of lukewarm water on the nightstand, takes a gentle sip to test if he can stomach it, and then downs the Advil when he decides it’s safe. “I usually know my limits. Must’ve gone a beer too far.”

He watches Eddie roll words around his mouth like marbles. His tongue clearly working over his teeth. Arms pulled tighter to his chest. “I didn’t invite you last night,” Eddie states, “and you harassed a good amount of my guests.”

“I’m sor”—

“Why did you come over?”

Owlishly, Steve blinks. “I don’t…I don’t know. Think I had been walking around and saw the full house and then…and then…I—Now I’m awake in your bed, man, I don’t know.”

Eddie blows out a long, loud breath. “Steve, that’s not good. That’s pretty fucking dangerous.” He covers his mouth with his ringless left hand. Worried. “You…fuck…you look terrible, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that. You fuckin’ broke up with me, you don’t get to call me that.”

When Eddie blinks, he blinks as if ridding tears from his eyes—which he must’ve been, since his next breath in is a nasally, bubbly sniffle—and then he concedes with a nod. “Okay, fine, I won’t call you that.” He tilts his head. Analyzing Steve like he is so prone to do. “Does this happen a lot? You go to random parties and get shitfaced?”

“It doesn’t happen that often.”

Pressing, “How often, Steve?”

Agitated, he sighs. “I don’t know! Fucking…probably three or four times a week? I’m not always drinking, though, so it’s fine!” He scoots the sloshing garbage can away from himself, stomach twinging at the sound, and collapses back into Eddie’s mattress. Usually, he can leave by now, but it seems like he’s trapped. He’d rather die than be here. Prickly, “Can I go home yet or are you gonna keep pestering me about stupid shit?”

Eddie crosses the room and takes a seat at the foot of his bed. For a moment, his left hand falls away from his face, hovering above the mound that Steve’s feet are making in the blanket—and then he hesitates. And then he hangs his hands between his spread knees. Careful. “I called Robin,” he says, “and she told me you haven’t been living with her for a few months now. If you really want to go home, that’s fine, but I’d like to know where this home is just to make sure you get there safely.”

“Why do you care? It’s not like you’ll ever need to know.”

“Steve, don’t get avoidant on me. Robin also said she was worried, and since she is, now I’m worried.” Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth. Gapes his mouth, floundering for a few beats like a suffocating goldfish. He looks away as if the sight of Steve physically pains him. Then,  “This isn’t you and I know it isn’t. Even if we aren’t together anymore and you wanna spout some shit at me about how this isthe real you or whatever, this isn’t the person Robin is friends with. What’s going on, man?”

He rolls his eyes. “Dude, just because I’m twenty pounds overweight and drink every once in a while doesn’t mean something’s wrong. I just don’t live with her anymore. It’s fine.”

“If things were fine, then nobody would be worrying over you. I know you’re not dumb, but I seriously don’t know why you’re acting like it. Can you at least tell me where you’re living so that I can give you a ride”—

“My girlfriend’s, okay? It’s my fuckin’ girlfriend’s apartment. She wasn’t home last night and I took advantage of that. It’s seriously not that big of a deal.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. “You were trying to get laid at my fucking party last night! That’s more than just taking advantage of a free night, Steve. You’re actively cheating on”—

“She deserves it,” Steve snaps, “if you knew her, you’d get why I’m doing it. Guess I’m just too chicken shit to break things off.”

“What the—what do you mean she deserves”—

“Can I use your shower? I think I got barf on myself. Think it’s on my clothes, too.”

Sighing, Eddie relents. Pastes a sarcastic grin on his face. Slaps his hands together. Dramatic. “Yeah, fine, whatever. But we’re talking about this afterwards. Robin was basically on the verge of tears, man. I promised her that I’d figure out what was going on.”

With a final roll of his eyes and a steaming huff, Steve mutters, “Fucking whatever.”

——— When he’s fresh out of the shower, Steve finds that his clothes have been changed out for some of Eddie’s. A plain pair of grey sweatpants and some scrappy Metallica t-shirt, the logo’s barely hanging on, peeling on the outlines. He wears them even if something lurches inside him. And, even stupider, he brings the collar of the t-shirt up to his nose and inhales. It’s clean based off of the faint scent of lavender, but there’s still an underlying layer of musk and sweat and tobacco. Something rich and so completely Eddie, it makes him want to run wild.

He hasn’t been in Eddie’s vicinity since the break up.

It wasn’t an amicable break up. He had been holding on, fingernails deep into the skin and fat of their relationship’s body, but Eddie had been slowly giving up. Stepping back, so he had said. That he couldn’t watch Steve destroy himself; it hadn’t been the alcohol yet, it was the wallowing and the wasting, the unemployment bouts and his irritable episodes and the whole…sneaking around and smoking weed and lying to Eddie’s face about it and then getting explosive when pestered and then—

Steve was a wreck.

Is a wreck.

Before they ended things, Steve had been spiraling. Down the drain kind of spiraling. They started things where he was merely stagnant water in a rusted sink and, well, then he went down from there—which was somehow possible. He didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand, so he’s explained time and time again to the people around him: Robin, Dustin, Nancy, and most importantly Eddie. It’s just that he didn’t know how to relax anymore. And the fact that his parents had finished offloading him from their lives. And that everybody around him kept moving on to bigger and greater things.

And then there was him. Plain Steve with his minimum wage job. Which, everybody told him that it was fine. That he shouldn’t be beating himself up so hard over what kind of job he’s got. Though, these were the same people that were starting college or joining more clubs or entering internships and apprenticeships. Steve was just there, in it. After bad shifts, he leant on a lit joint; before a bad shift could even start, he was excusing himself with a joint in his pocket. He smoked in his car, he smoked on the porch, he smoked in the bathroom. Every night, it felt like, he caught himself choking on all the shit he was full of; caught himself breaking into pure hysterics, sobbing and crying and clawing. When Eddie tried to comfort him, Steve could swear that it felt like his world was closing in, and every time he’d back away from the arms and the kisses and the soft words—if he didn’t, he feared he’d tear his own skin off in an attempt to escape. And that’s what it was all about—escapism. He wanted an out, so he made his own exit. The smoking and the bickering and the crying were just force of habit.

He was miserable.

…Is miserable.

Once out of the bathroom, Steve follows his nose towards the kitchen. Eddie’s at the stove, scrambling up some eggs, over-frying the bacon. He makes himself sit at the dining table. Because he knows this is Eddie’s way of confrontation.

“So…” Eddie starts. “There’s a girlfriend.”

Steve swallows around phantom bile and chunks. “Do we have to talk about her?”

Eddie shrugs. “Feels like maybe we should, don’t you think? ‘Cause if this is a case of, like, you’ve fallen out of love with her, I can give you a few pointers on how to, y’know”—

“Oh, fuck you, man,” Steve spits. “That’s so completely uncool of”—

“Okay, okay…I’m sorry. Obviously you’re not up for jokes, I should’ve known better.” He sighs, clicks the burners off, and putters around one of the cabinets, clearly stalling. “But there’s something about this girl. And whatever it is, it’s got you cagey and on the defense immediately…and I feel like it has something to do with what you were getting up to last night.”

A plate clunks down in front of Steve. Full with cheesy eggs and crisp bacon. There’s also a steaming cup of black coffee—no creamer or sugar in sight—just as he likes it. Deep within him, a timid creature lurches again, pressing and purring up against his ribcage; he juts his fingers between his ribs in an attempt to stab it.

“Does Robin know about her?” Eddie asks.

Steve gives a half-assed shrug. Takes a bite that overwhelms his cheeks. Not a word.

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Across the table, Eddie sits in his own chair. Hands clasped together. Leaning over the surface as if interrogating. He supposes that’s what this is. “And if Robin doesn’t know, then I’m going to assume that nobody knows. The only reason you told me is because I prodded enough. Which…that also tells me you’re…you’re isolating yourself again, aren’t you? Not talking to everybody else?”

He chews his food slower. Keeps his stare down at the plate. Grips his fork a little tighter when his hand starts to shake. “I see them,” Steve lies.

Eddie doesn’t buy it—evident in the click of his tongue, the huff of his breath. “Nobody’s seen you. You’re being secretive about this girl’s place. You don’t even fucking like her and”—he gasps, big and breathy and taking all the air out of the room with it—“are those…”—and then Eddie grabs at Steve’s left wrist, tugging at his arm until his bicep is on display—“…Steve, oh my god!”

Though he could pull back, hide what Eddie’s already clearly seen, Steve is stuck—not frozen, but stuck. He hides his face by continuing to stare down. “It’s not what it looks like, Eds…Eddie, come on”—

“Who did this? These are finger imprints, Steve. Who the fuck did this to you?”

Embarrassingly, Steve’s eyes fill with tears. He yanks at the grip, but no shot. “Ed—please, come on, just let it go”—

“Steve”—

“Stop!” And Eddie lets go with a muttered apology. Steve curls his arm against his chest. Now would be a great time for a drink and the floor to open itself. For now, though, he slumps in his seat. “You already got the answer, okay? Just drop it. It’s not important. And it’s not…I’m not…it’s not something to worry about.”

The room completely quiets.

He doesn’t pick his fork back up.

And his face isn’t cooperating the way it should. Instead, it’s hot and embarrassed. He’s crying, too, which doesn’t bode well for whatever conversation is ahead.

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly, “can you look at me?”

Fighting every instinct that tells him no, he begrudgingly looks up from his lap. Can’t make direct eye contact, but whatever glimpse Eddie gets seems to satisfy him.

Murmuring now, “Is she hurting you?” Eddie asks. “You don’t have to say anything, you can just…just give me a visual.”

Steve sniffs. Croaky, “Y-yeah. But…but it’s fine, okay? We just get into arguments sometimes and I say the wrong thing and she has to—She still…we still cuddle and have sex and stuff and she…she tells me she loves me.”

“Sweetheart”—Steve shoots Eddie a quick glare—“sorry…I know I shouldn’t—Just because she’s nice sometimes doesn’t mean you deserve any of this. You understand?” When he doesn’t give an answer, Eddie sighs. “Does your girlfriend know where Robin lives?” Steve simply nods. “Okay…okay. How about where I live?”

Subtly, Steve gives a quick shake of his head. It’s not supposed to be like this—this overwhelming sense to hide; the way Eddie knows that even Steve was too weak to fight back. You can’t think like that, he tries to tell himself, Eddie doesn’t think like that. Eddie love—“No…I don’t…we don’t talk about you. She, um, she doesn’t support that…that kind of…stuff? Last time I tried to talk about anything to do with”—he clutches his arm tighter to his chest, can trace the exact place a fracture had lasted for months—“she made sure I knew that I chose her.”

Something twisted flashes over Eddie’s face. Paling him. Sickening him. “Steve,” he says horrified, “that’s awful.” 

“But she loves me,” Steve is quick to amend, “so it’s fine that she doesn’t like that part”—

“None of this is okay,” Eddie firmly interrupts. “Not a single bit of it, do you hear me? She’s hurting you. She is isolating you from your friends. She is hiding you, Steve.” He crosses his arms again, hard against the table, enough to shake it. “I’m not taking you back there. I am not putting you in that situation again.”

Scrambling, Steve whips his head straight up. “Eds, no, c’mon…it’s…it’s fine, okay? Seriously. I…I can take care of myself, swear. And it’s not like she’s hurting me that”—

“Do not finish that sentence, Steve Harrington. I mean that. I really fucking mean that. You know, just as well as I do, that what you’re trying to tell me is horseshit. Pure shit.” Eddie bites into his bottom lip, staring off beyond Steve’s shoulder for a moment. Contemplating a million things, it seems. But then his stare goes back to normal, watery and miserable. His voice wavers. “I have a pull-out in my spare room. It’s usually the space I use to write and record, but I’ll let you use it. There’s a million blankets in my hall closet. I make a mean plate of breakfast. No rent. No chipping in on utilities.”

“I can’t just take advantage of you, Eddie.”

“You wouldn’t be. Steve, in no way, shape, or form are you a burden to me.”

Steve shakes his head and drops his stare back to his lap. “You know that’s not true,” he says quietly, “I was falling apart before her. I’m falling apart during her. I’m just gonna fall apart again after her. And I can’t…Eddie, I can’t put you through that again.” He sniffs. Rolls his lips against his teeth, tries to stop himself from crying—to no avail. “I know, okay? I know that I…I fucked us up so bad before. You had every fucking right to leave me. I was miserable. I was sick. There was nothing motivating me—not even you…not even Robin—just nothing. I was lying to you. I was stealing your weed. I was…I was terrible, Eds. I’m a”—

“Don’t you dare”—

“I’m a terrible person, Eddie. I am. I know it.” Steve shorts a sob. It sprays loose against his forearms. Chokes him at the base of his throat. “If I was good, then this kind of bullshit would stop happening to me. If I was a good person, then I’d be able to hold a job or make something of myself. If I could just get myself together, maybe my parents would love me…not more, but maybe again? And I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t be in this mess!

“I wouldn’t be like a fucking sponge that just absorbs everything around it. That’s all I do. I swear to God, that’s all I do. Everything negative just gets stuck in me and it has nowhere to go but out and so I get bitchy and mean and I argue and I do stupid shit and I—I’m a complete fuck up, okay? I’m not going to bring that into your space. I’m not gonna let you realize that again.” There’s drool and tears and snot mixing over his face. Heat in his cheeks. A tremor in his hands. Quietly, “My life is nothing but a black smudge. I don’t think I know who I am without all the…the alcohol and weed and cigarettes and mindless, dumb sex. I don’t know who I am without being awful. I shouldn’t be here like this…I shouldn’t be here. A part of me feels like I should’ve died down”—

Without saying anything, just a sharp scrape of his chair, Eddie gets up from his spot at the table.

This is it, Steve thinks, he’s gonna grab me by my neck and toss me to the curb.

He’ll slice Steve open and let him be flayed for the whole world to see—his stupid stained lungs and his gnarly liver and his constantly bloated insides; the hairline cracks along his heart and the purple bruising surrounding it; how much of him is missing, what parts remain diseased. He’s a decaying corpse, really. Molding and marbling right at Eddie’s table.

There’s heat along his left side. Not touching him, but something close.

Eddie crouches down, knees popping with the effort. Hushed, “Stevie, can you look at me?” He doesn’t know how to stop listening to this voice, but he knows how to obey. It’s a different sort of seeing when Eddie looks at him—not the bare naked kind, more so like he’s worthy, like he doesn’t have to die to be realized. “There you are,” Eddie breathes. “I want to give you a hug, is that okay?”

Instead of answering, Steve leans himself into Eddie’s chest. Right where he used to cozy up. Lets himself fall. And Eddie catches him. One hand in his hair. An arm thrown across his back. It’s the only embrace he’s felt in what seems like eons. It’s the warmest thing he’s had aside from the alcohol in his system.

He doesn’t know what else to do but sob. Cry and cry and choke and choke and choke and give in. Lean into the wailing, the exerting, the marking. Give himself over to full temptation: the art of letting go.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Eddie whispers, stroking Steve’s hair, “we’re gonna eat our breakfast and I’ll wash your clothes and we’ll divvy out the blankets for your bed. And if you need anything—anything at all”—he chokes at this part, voice warbling again, tears wetting the top of Steve’s head—“you can come find me. And I promise you, Steve, I’m not gonna be mad and I’m not gonna take anything out on you and I will just let you be.

“‘m right here. And so are you.

“And we’re gonna…shit…we’re gonna get you through this. No matter how long it takes.”

Over Eddie’s heart, where it still beats against Steve’s lips like it did under his clumsy hands, he asks, “And if it takes forever?”

“Then we’ll take forever.

“You’re gonna get to where you need to be.

“And you’re gonna be you again.” Eddie swallows. The sound vibrating through Steve’s skull. His heart, his pulse, the wheezing of his breath. His steady hold. The warmth in his palms. All of it embraces him. As if it’s factual, Eddie goes on to state, “You are a good person, Steve. You’re just gonna take some time to realize that. And that’s okay.” A promise, “You’re gonna be you.”

The end is so far away. His greatness. This conceived idea of him.

He doesn’t know what’s to come.

But he takes the first step.

Steve breathes deep, no longer tasting bile, no longer choking on words, no longer crying.

He breathes out and lets go.

💔—————💔

[holylulusworld]

Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear (3)

Summary: He ruins what you had...

Pairing: Lumberjack!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Ari being a douche for a moment, sad reader, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy scare, mentions of being unemployed, money problems (implied), remorse, we love Bear

This story is part of my Lumberjack Tales masterlist

Catch up here: Lumberjack Tales - The Hairy Bear (2)

A/N: I added the first details of the following request to this part.

Your days off flew by faster than you wanted. Ari and you spend every moment together, lots of cuddling and sex included.

Before you knew it, you called your boss to quit your job. Ari told you more than once that he wants you to stay – forever.

He seemed to be adamant about keeping you around. And you, well you, wouldn’t want to leave him, his cabin, and Bear for all the money in the world.

It was the first time in your life that you got the feeling you found your haven, a place where you belong, and are wanted.

“Ari,” you call for your lover and maybe future boyfriend. “Baby? Do you want to join me for a walk? We could take Bear too.”

Ari doesn’t answer. He came back from another grocery run half an hour ago. Ari didn’t say much. He simply carried all bags inside, and even ignored when Bear nuzzled his leg.

Assuming he had another encounter with the, in his words, annoying town folk, you snicker. Ari just hates having too many people around. You don’t know what happened, but he likes staying to himself – hence the cabin in the middle of nowhere.

A minute passes by, and another without a word from Ari. You sigh and decide to help him unpack the groceries. Winter is close, and Ari wants to restock his pantry.

“Ari?” You walk inside the kitchen, smirking as Ari is busy cleaning the counter. Last night you had sex on it, and you didn’t have the time to clean it yet. He huffs and snatches your panties from the ground to throw them into the trash can.

“Shit everywhere…” He mutters, still not looking at you. “Everywhere…”

“Can I help you?” You step closer to Ari, to hug him from behind and rest your head against his back. “We ruined it together. Let me lend you a hand.”

“Christ, can you leave me alone for five minutes?” He raises his voice, making you flinch. “It feels like you’re breathing down my neck all the time. Sometimes, a man needs time on his own. You’re suffocating me! Why are you so clingy all the time.”

You stiffen and immediately drop your arms. Stepping away from Ari, you feel like someone punched you in the guts. Not days ago, he told you again that he wanted you to stay forever, and now, Ari is telling you he hates having you around.

“Alright,” you try not to choke on the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll leave you to…cleaning.”

Ari huffs when you run out of the kitchen, and upstairs. He believes you’ll give him space and come back down later to join him for breakfast.

Bear whines as he looks at his owner. The Estrela Mountain Dog dips its head to watch its owner angrily scrub the kitchen counter. “Not now, Bear. I had a shitty day. My fucking ex-wife called, that blood-sucking bitch…”

“Shoes, pants, wallet,” you sniffle while throwing all of your belongings into your backpack. You wipe your eyes and choke out a sob. How could you believe Ari wants more from you than sex? Of course, he’s already bored and wants you gone. “That’s all.”

Ari left the house to go for a walk with Bear some time ago. This way, you don’t have to say goodbye. You’ll just sneak out and find your way back to civilization and loneliness.

Grabbing your backpack, you sigh. For a few weeks, you believed you found a home. Now you know better. No man can be trusted. Especially not the kind looking like he came right out of a wet dream.

You slowly walk out of the room, not looking back. If you turn around, you’ll break down and cry. That’s the last thing Ari wants, a whiny and desperate woman clinging to him. Maybe he even believes after you quit your job for him that you are after his money.

Shaking your head, you decide to not think of him any longer. It was great while it lasted. You had a great time and awesome sex. You’ll remember your time with Ari for what it was – a late summer fling.

“Y/N? Uh—I’m back. Listen,” Ari jogs upstairs to apologize for his earlier outburst. He was angry after hearing from his ex-wife after so long. The last thing he wanted was to yell at you. “Baby? I’m sorry for yelling. It’s just that…”

Ari stops in his tracks. He gasps when he finds the bedroom empty. “Y/N?” He rubs his scruffy chin. Something is wrong. All of your clothes are gone. Even the ones you carelessly dropped to the ground when you jumped at him to suck him off last night. “Baby?”

Bear trots inside the room. The huge dog whines loudly as you are nowhere to be found.

“Do you think she’s shopping?” Ari asks his dog. He furrows his brows as Bear lies down, and whines again. “Fuck…no…fuck!”

Sitting down on the bed, he buries his face in his hands. He screams your name, angrily stomping his feet. “I fucked up big time!”

Ari aimlessly drives around the area. He searches his property, every inch of it. In town, no one saw you, and you’re not answering your phone.

“Bear, I don’t even know where she’s living,” Ari hits the brakes hard when he sees someone walking along the road. He cranes his neck, only to see the cashier from the store in town wave at him. “Not her.”

He slams his hands on the steering wheel, cursing himself for ruining the best thing ever happening to him. “She’s gone, and it’s all my fucking fault.”

The first days back at your old place felt wrong—just wrong. You missed Ari's scent and his voice. You barely slept, not only because you felt like your heart got ripped out, but also because you found yourself in desperate need of a new job.

How foolish of you to quit your job for some guy you met not weeks ago.

“Fucking idiot,” you call yourself a needy and stupid bitch. “Only because his dick was good, you fucked up your career and will lose your apartment. Loser bitch. This is so typical of you.”

Four weeks have passed, and you feel numb. Not only did you not get your job back, but you’ve got another problem, and your time with Ari left more than a bad taste in your mouth.

Hot tears run down your cheeks, realizing you took too many risks by giving in to the charming and sexy man. Again, you tell yourself that you should’ve known better.

“Bear, come on,” Ari urges his dog. He finally found a trace of you. It took him almost six weeks to find out more about you, and your life. All he knew was your name. Nothing else was important while you were still around. Ari told himself, he could ask questions later and enjoy the blooming relationship you built. “We got to find her.”

Bear barks as Ari tugs at the dog leash. He sits down and whines loudly. “Stop making a fuss, you big beast. We have a job to do. Get up.”

The Estrela Mountain Dog remains where he’s seated. “What’s wrong with you?” Ari shakes his head. “We finally found her, and now you keep me from going to her?”

Ari huffs as his dog jumps up. Bear wags his tail and barks loudly. The dog suddenly starts running to chase after someone.

“Bear! Wait! Wait up!” Ari runs after his dog, dodging people here and there. “You stubborn beast. WAIT!”

Bear suddenly stops. Jumps at someone, making Ari yell his dog’s name louder.

“No! Stop attacking people. What are you doing?” His heart stops for a second watching Bear nuzzle your belly. The huge beast is whining for your attention as you carefully pat his head. “Bear, you beast found her!”

While you crouch down to wrap your arms around Bear, his owner steps closer. He watches you pat his dog while trying to find the words to apologize.

“There you are,” Ari huffs. “You must love watching me chase you.” He steps closer to grab Bear’s dog leash. “We will discuss your behavior on our way back.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You get back up to glare at Ari. “You wanted your freedom and silence back. I gave you what you wanted.”

You turn to leave, ignoring Bear whining louder. “I didn’t want you to leave. Y/N, I was having a bad day and yelled at you. I’m sorry.” Ari puts his hand on your shoulder, but you shake it off. “We could’ve talked things out, but you just ran. I needed weeks to find you. How could you just leave me?”

“How could you treat me like an intruder and a liability?” You snap at Ari. “All the time you told me to stay, and I believed you. I quit my job for you, only to get kicked out!”

“Y/N, I did not kick you out!” He growls. “You left! I came back and wanted to apologize, only to find you gone. I was scared to hell and back! Do you know how many nights I asked myself if you are still alive?”

You shrug. “You have a life to go back to, Ari. I suggest you enjoy your solitary, and I’ll take care of…” Biting your tongue, you look at the envelope in your hands. “Whatever.”

“Y/N,” he whispers your name when you are about to walk away. “Please. Let’s go somewhere else, and have a coffee. We can talk and fix this. It was all just a misunderstanding.”

Ari looks around the area, frowning as his eyes drift toward the building you left.

“There’s nothing to fix.” You want to walk away, but Bear blocks your path. “Bear, no!”

“A doctor?” Ari sucks in a breath. “Y/N. Baby, are you sick? Fuck.” Ari wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “How do you feel? What is wrong with you?”

You take a deep breath and say, “I’m pregnant…”

Snippet

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