#spent a good time in a room hyperventilating and nearly crying

[ponyosmom35]

you're alive?

Simon ghost Riley x reader

Synopsis: reader and Simon were engaged, planning their wedding when he was KIA. four months later she is nearly taken hostage by Makrov and saved by his team. She sees him for the first time and passes out. The next day she wakes up in Simon’s room with bandages on her. 

Warnings: angstttttt, mentions of death, mentions of body image issues, panic attack

She wakes up in a cold sweat, her mind racing as she looks around the room. After several seconds she recognizes Simon’s body armor hanging up on the door and gasps in shock. It was real, he wasn’t dead. She sits up, cringing at the pain in her shoulder and leg. Ignoring the pain she gets out of the bed, she needed to see him. She needed to see his eyes. Her mind refused to admit that this was real, her Simon wasn’t gone. She takes a deep breath and walks into the bathroom, she stares at herself. 

She had a bruise on her cheek and her eyes were puffy and red with fresh tears threatening to escape. Her hair had been brushed through and the blood on her face was cleaned up. She shivers knowing who would’ve done that. She notices the bandage on her shoulder and the other on her thigh. She’d been in her underwear and a tank top. She searches around, finding a pair of his boxers and her shirt she’d been wearing. She notices that it had been washed and shakes her head. Simon’s love language was acts of service. She sniffles as she picks up one of the shirts from the closet, she smells it, inhaling his scent. Tears stream down her face as she crumbles to the floor. Why would he do this? Why would he lie. 

She was furious. After going through four months of agony he shows up out of nowhere to ‘save her’. She stands to her feet and walks out of the door. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen and she walks in. Her breath leaves her body as she sees his frame, back facing her. She recognized it in an instant. Soaps eyes catch her own and he cuts himself off mid sentence. 

“Goodmorning sunshine, how ya feelin?” he tries

All of the men turn to look at her their eyes widening. Simon hesitates before turning to face her, his mask concealing his beautiful face. As he stares at her her mind spins. She’s hit with intense relif and fury. She was so fucking happy to see him. All of those nights she spent crying herself to sleep, all of the breakdowns all fade away. He was here, her Simon was alive! Tears fill her eyes as she stares at him, unable to move. 

“We’ll give you guys a second” Price says, as they all walk out of the room, leaving the couple alone. 

“love”

“You’re alive” she says 

“I have so much I need to say to you” he says stepping forward, she takes two steps back holding her arm up. He stops instantly, his heart screaming in pain at the rejection. Though he understood it. 

“I don’t want to hear another goddamn word out of your mouth you fucking asshole!” she yells. 

She walks over to him and shoves him as hard as she could, he steps back in surprise as she does it again and again. “I thought you were dead! I mourned you!” she yells 

“I’m sorry” he says softly 

“Your words mean nothing to me anymore Simon!” she says pushing him again. He catches her hands and holds them gently as she begins to hyperventilate. “Take a deep breath for me” 

“No fuck you! Keep your fucking hands off of me!” she says pushing him back once more. 

Unable to hold herself together any longer she lets out a sob as she hurries back to the room she’d woken up in. She collapses against the door and crumbles. Sobs wrack through her body uncontrollably. The one person she trusted enough to work her through this was the one who broke her heart. Was she not good enough? Did he fall out of love? Was she too boring? Not skinny enough, pretty enough? She’d never been enough for anyone, not her own parents. They’d always preferred Emma, the star athlete, the one who signed up to serve the country. She never excelled in school or sports. She was always overweight. 

Until Simon. He changed everything. She’d never felt so seen, so admired, so loved. Though he didn’t say it often, he showed it every single day. He breathed for her and she knew that. Yet her mind coudn’t comprehend any other reason he might have faked his death. It had to have been something she did. 

-

Her eyes were nearly swollen shut after several hours of crying. She’d sat in the bed staring at the ceiling all night long. Occasional tears dripping down her cheeks. Her body ached and she was exhausted. Her anxiety was at an all time high and she wanted to know what was going on, why was she here? Why was she taken? Why did Simon fake his death? Yet she coudn’t bring herself to face him once more. 

He’d dropped off breakfast outside of her door this morning, but she hadn’t been able to force herself out of bed to get it. She was not hungry, she felt sick to her stomach. Her heart torn in two as she wanted nothing more than to go to him. Knowing that he was the only person in the world that could sooth her mind. 

Simon walks to her door carefully holding a plate of food for her. He sighs noticing the other plate he left in the same spot, uneaten. His heart beats wildly as he knocks on the door, opening it slightly. 

“love?” he asks 

“Go away” she snaps 

“You need to eat”

“I’m not hungry” 

Simon enters the room anyways, setting the plate on the tabel. He finds her sitting on the bed with her back pressed into the wall. It was obvious that she had not slept, and spent most of the night crying. He felt sick knowing that he put her in this position. The last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt her. 

“Get out” she responds, staring at him in anger 

“I need to check on your wounds” he says walking over to her. “They’re fine” 

“please” he mutters, she stares at him and her heartbreaks. “Okay, but I wanna see Simon, not ghost” she says

He nods and takes the mask off, setting it off to the side. She inahels sharply seeing his full face again. He had a few cuts healing on his skin but he looked perfect. She lays her leg on the bed, outstretched. Simon gently picks up her leg and throws it over his lap. He peels off the wrap and looks at the angry wound. He sighs and pours some disinfectant on a towel. “This is gonna hurt” he warns 

She nods and Simon places it against her wound, she tenses up instantly and bites her lip to refrain from making any sound. The feeling of his hands on her skin made tears fill her eyes. He was so gentle, like this was hurting him more than her. He works quickly and wraps it up. He looks into her eyes, seeing the tears. “Im sorry, but I gotta do the next one too” 

She crosses her legs and allows him to move closer to her. He carefully moves her hair behind her back and pushes her shirt to the side. She shutters at how close he was, hating how her body yearned for him. 

“Why did you do this?��� she asks 

He looks up at her in surprise, his continues to clean her wound “we started a new mission, got intel that he knew about my past, he knew about you. He had addresses and photos. I knew that someone would connect you to me at some point so I had to take myself out of the situation. He woudln’t come after you if he knew I was dead. You would be safe.”

“You didn’t once stop to think I should know that you weren’t dead?”

“It needed to be real, he needed to be convinced”

“I’m glad my grief was convinving” she snaps 

“I know it doens’t make sense, but I did this to keep you safe” 

“They found me anyways, how does that keep me safe?” she asks 

“They went after you because I killed one the leaders son, he saw me”

“Fuck Si” she responds 

“I never wanted this, I fucking hate how much I’ve hurt you. But I needed to make sure you were safe. That is my priority. I had no other option. I’m so fucking sorry that you’ve been hurt once again because of me. You deserve so much more”

“I understand why you did this, but I’m still furious” she admits 

“I don’t blame you. Once this is over and I know that you’re safe, you’ll never have to see me again. Just let me fix this”

“What?!” she snaps, she stands looking at him. His height nearly matching her’s as he sat on the bed staring at her. “How dare you Simon!” 

“Wha-”

“So you think that after this is over you just disappear again? Over my fucking dead body, you don’t get to leave again! We started a life together! I will never be ready to give that up! I thought you were dead for four months Simon, I wanted to die without you. Now that by some fucking mircle I have you back, you think that I’m gonna let you leave? You don’t get to make that choice for us, because I will always choose you!” 

“love”

“If you don’t love me anymore then by all means leave!” she yells, he stands to his feet staring down at her as he grips her arm “but don’t use my safety as an excuse” 

“I love you more than anything in this world, you are everything to me” he responds. His words were simple, yet there was so much meaning behind them. Simon had never been known to speak more than he had to. He had a hard time admitting his feelings, he preferred to show how much he cared through acts of service and gift giving. Words were never his strength. But she didn’t need a long monologue about how much he loved her, how much he needed her. She just had to what those simple three words. 

she surprises him by wrapping her arms around his torso. She buries her head in his chest as she tries to stifle her sobbing. Simon holds onto her tightly, hand burrowed in her hair. He backs up to the bed and sits, pulling her into him once more. She wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Fuck I missed you” he says into her shoulder

“If you ever do that to me again I will cut your dick off” she warns 

“Yes ma’am” he responds kissing her head.

ghost master list:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

[moonlightsapphic]

Y'all aren't ready for this storytime.

So in 9th grade, one of the loudest girls in our class fixated on making me her latest project. At the time, I was still learning to cope with (undiagnosed) selective mutism and was the weirdo in the class. S thought I was chill, and I just needed to socialise a little more: interact, take pictures with people, wear makeup.

As the months passed, we became really close. S was a bit of a disaster: Her family wasn't the most stable, and neither was her mental health. She was conventionally very pretty—curvy with silky waves dyed caramel, sharp facial features and confident poisture. She was a bit outspoken and active for the liking of most guys in our conservative south Asian small town, but just pretty and charismatic and elusive and ✨ deep ✨ enough (even as a teen) for men to overlook that and try to slide into her dms and such. S spent her teen years jumping from toxic relationship to toxic relationship—fortunately with people our own age only.

She was just the type to reel in my chronic empath, neurodivergent ass as well. I loved pleasing S, impressing her, hanging out with her, being vulnerable together, comforting her. She was one of the only people that could keep up with my hyperactive texting, and despite our big differences, we had enough common interests to have something to talk about nearly 24/7.

(Looking back, I can definitely see some neurodivergent traits in her as well.)

When I was deeply crushing on this dumb dude that I thought was the coolest because he played guitar, was good at math and expressed feelings™️ well, I was pretty private about it. S literally emotionally coaxed me into telling her the truth. We were up late texting; she was—unsurprisingly—pretty down and I was keeping her company. She asked, “You know, I consider you to be my closest friend, though I don‘t say it a lot ... Will you tell me the truth? Do you like him?” If I‘d read that in a book, I'd be sure there was some romantic tension between these two characters.

When I had my first weirdly-sexual gay dream at seventeen, I was alone in her room with S later that day and hyperventilating. I was already in a very monogamous (and boring, in restrospect) relationship with that same dude and very happy about it, but that moment truly was the first step in my bi awakening. (It was probably inspired by some of my favourite public figures of the time, like dodie, coming out and talking extensively about it.)

I distinctly remember this one night when my boyfriend (spoiler alert: he’s trash) had been mean and made me cry. I was scared he would break up with me in the morning over this one tiny little mistake I’d made. S stayed up with me all night, and by daybreak I felt a flicker of feelings deep inside, of possibilities.

Unfortunately, as we neared 12th grade graduation, S began to get more conservative. She started to put her religious beliefs above any and all personal principles she once had. Ergo, queer people are sinners and also women should cover up and listen to men plus the country should become a fully "Islamic state" and get rid of all other religious minorities to achieve doubtless true utopia.

Uhhh … yeah.

Incidentally, she seemed unworried about following the same rules herself—her “faith” really shone when she was telling other people what to do, or being bigoted against a certain (religious, racial, ethnic, queer, et cetera) minority group she herself didn’t identify with. It was really just an excuse to feed her ego, perhaps a coping mechanism even, and it was hypocritical.

Let me make it clear here that the beliefs she kept citing are mainly a very specific set of interpretations of Islamic scripture that’ve come to be widely taught in our region at this moment in time. They by no means reflect the beliefs of all Muslims (and, in this case, were very informed by the bigotry of the cis-heterosexual, perverted, greedy old men who historically created these rules to maintain their power). S here absolutely is not a representation of the lifestyle and disposition of every practicing Muslim person.

ANYWAY, she began to make remarks about me posting LGBTQ+ positivity content on my social media, or feminism of the brand she didn't like. In my conflicts with shitty dudes from school, she would only support me if her ~ beliefs ~ allowed it. Additionally, she’d always been pretty emotionally volatile, but it had gotten worse since graduating school—She would get mad or upset with me now for being absent, insensitive, et cetera, asking for reassurance but in intense defensive attack mode. It was behaviour I never encountered from any other platonic friend.

As you can see, S wasn't very good at maintaining boundaries, or being open to other points of view. Her negative approach to many things in life often rubbed off on me as well.

With time and growth I found more friends who were like-minded to myself, whom I didn't have to tiptoe around lest I offend them or set them off, who were far more loyal to me. I’m a sensitive person—and I found a warmer community, much better for my mental health. So in our twenties, S and I organically drifted apart.

When I (finally!) dumped my shitty boyfriend (he’d turned extremely sour over time because he hated that I’d grown a backbone), and began happily dating a woman that I was very much in love with at the end of the year, I realised that having friends who support my queer identity is non-negotiable to me now. Just interacting with the queerphobes from grade school hugely triggered me, and I decided I no longer needed to carefully maintain niceties with them.

And it would all have ended there, except S wasn’t having it. We had drifted apart a while ago, but as soon as she saw that I was posting a bunch of pictures with my girlfriend, she began spreading rumours trying to out the both of us.

(Mind you, we weren’t out to anyone yet at the time. S was purely speculating, but she was spot on—I just couldn’t really figure out why this was the thing she decided to fixate on.)

And then, as if she thought I would forgive her straightaway for attempting to out me, she started hitting me up in my dms every few months demanding I give her an explanation for why I abandoned her. Each time, I patiently told S it wasn’t intentional and I had had mental health troubles. (Namely, ADHD, which she herself had once convinced me was impossible.) If she truly wanted us to keep up with each other, she could just reply to my stories in good humour and ask me how I’m doing instead of repeatedly villainizing me out of the blue. (I never brought up the outing thing, or anything queer-related at all. I didn’t want to give her any more leverage than the bits and pieces of evidence she had dug up herself, conspiracy-style.) However, that would only keep her away temporarily.

Not going to lie, the way she kept coming back to gaslight me into taking her back was an exact copy of what my ex-boyfriend had done for months. It was hilarious, and tragic.

… And (I realised later) kind of gay??

She’s been in a relationship with a really docile (*cough* ball-less) dude who agrees with all her conservative principles since 12th grade. (Honestly, good for them, they deserve each other.) I don’t think S has ever had feelings for me as much as she simply felt possessive of me. She regards it as betrayal that I am happily out and queer, and she can’t tolerate that some other girl has replaced her as my one true ✨ gal pal ✨. She's jealous, but it's hard for me to believe her jealousy is purely platonic. It's like she wanted us to be a pair of suffering queers-in-denial sacrificing ourselves for neurotypical comphet society together, hand in hand, forever. For the greater good.

How romantic.

I noticed a few weeks ago that she's finally removed me from all her social media—around the same exact time that my ex-boyfriend (whom I haven’t spoken to in years) blocked me.

Ah, two breakups that I initiated years ago coming back uninvited, for attention that I literally have zero interest in providing.

So bringing back this post:

Reading this was like a major brain go brrr moment to me, because I was like ??? That’s a queer thing??? No way???

And then I read through the comments and saw that every single sapphic person was like “uhhh yep we never dated though good riddance,” or “ugh yes and we ended up dating and it was so toxic we broke up soon after good riddance”.

For the first time in my life, I actually considered that S might not have been a straight queerphobe, but an incredibly suppressed dumpster fire of a queer person with extreme internalized homophobia.

And … it all fits.

She's always been sultry and glamorous in a distinctly sapphic way; I just never was able to exactly put my finger on it. (In high school, sometimes I'd look her up and down and go whoa.) I can totally imagine a parallel universe in which we forget men and attempt to date each other instead. After the first few months of euphoria, she’d probably get us into an anxious-avoidant trap the same way my ex did. She’d cheat on me with a man because of her internalised homophobia, then dump me and come back crying to gaslight me a dozen times. It would take me much longer to get rid of her than it did to get rid of my dumb man ex—because ✨ shared queer trauma ✨.

I really, really dodged a bullet with that one. My girlfriend is the most wonderful, soft, and nurturing person I know, and she is my soulmate in more ways than one. I am very happy, and this is your PSA to not just date the one other queer person in your vicinity when you know you aren't good for each other. Be like me—run.

[ateezmakemeweep]

playing with fire (part 3)

word count: 17k

angst, fluff, smut (tw: age gap, infidelity, roommate’s father, panic attack)

(part 2) (series masterlist)

it was only a week after you returned home from spring break, relaxed and ready to finish your college career, that your life began crashing down.

you knew seonghwa was being strange but you didn’t know why. 

you couldn’t quite put your finger on the reason his smile looked so different or why his eyes looked utterly defeated - you just knew that something was off.

and when you finally met him at his apartment for dinner, the third time that week in between classes, final projects and the lingering elephant in the room, he let it slip.

“she knows.”

he had said it with the upmost sympathy in his voice, an apprehensive look on his face as he immediately tightened his grip on your hand. 

he had been dreading you telling this because he knew you were gonna freak out. he didn’t want you running and he couldn’t take it if you left him after how happy you two have been, bumps in the road and all.

but right now, with just the utterance of those two words, you know you’re about to deal with the biggest bump and you’re not sure how to react. 

you’re just staring at him, panic swirling in your chest with the strangest kind of disconnect happening between your body and mind.

it’s like you’d known this day was coming since you and him started, have been preparing for it since the moment your lips met in the morning light seeping through your kitchen, but, now, you’re not at all prepared for it.

you can barely feel his hand in yours, attempting to focus on the warmth and size and the way he’s squeezing you so assuringly despite the harsh pounding of your heart in your ears.

this can’t be happening. not yet. not now, when things are supposed to be happy and fun and exciting.

“she told me a few days after we got back from cancun,” he begins, looking over your face as you stare down at your intertwined hands in a panicked trance.

“she was suspicious of your necklace and the way we acted. saw my bathing suit after that night we went to the beach,” he tells you honestly, not even able to relive the happy memories from that night because of the current look on your face.

“then she showed me the credit card receipt, with the two tuition payments.”

your heart is pounding in your ears and you truly fear that you might pass out, your hand growing sweaty and shaky in his hold but not daring to pull away.

tears are burning the back of your eyes but you don’t allow them to fall yet either, attempting to remain strong as you swallow the lump in your throat and look at him.

he smiles softly and it nearly breaks you right there, pressing your lips together before you allow yourself to speak.

“did you deny it?”

his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, head cocked to the side as he looks over your face carefully.

“no. i told her i paid for you. 

“why-” you squeak out, the first word broken and croaking as you try to get out your words. try to breathe in and out and keep yourself from completely hyperventilating and falling apart.

“why would you do that?” you’re finally able to ask, voice low and cracking as the tears at bay get harder and harder to hold back. “that probably made her even more suspicious.”

“she already knew, baby. i wasn’t gonna lie.”

“how do i know you’re not lying now, seonghwa?” mrs. park bites back, her eyes wide and a scornful laugh leaving her mouth as she accuses him of multiple affairs. 

“you’ve been sleeping with your daughter’s friend for months. how many other of her friends have you been with?”

“it’s not like that,” seonghwa growls lowly, rising from his seat to walk over to his wife. “don’t make me out to be some sort of a creep.”

“oh? but aren’t you?” the woman laughs, not an ounce of jealously or betrayal in her veins - her relationship with her husband ended long before it began and she’s known that.

but this. 

this is all about power and she doesn’t like that you seem to have it over her. that this whole time, you were right under her nose with her husband in her home as he spent their money on you. 

she can only hold onto what she has now, power and blackmail and spite, looking at her husband who knows he fucked up and seemed to have shit where he eats.

“you took her on vacation with your daughter right beside you,” she says, her voice far too calm and collected for his liking. 

“you’re old enough to be the girl’s father and you think being with her is gonna work?” she asks, the smirk on her face growing the more she hears this absurdity. 

“that’s delusional, seonghwa. when did you become so naive?”

the man can’t even begin to entertain an answer for her, not at all wanting to have a discussion with her about the dynamics between you and him; because, yes, he has those insecurities but that’s not something he’s about to disclose to her. 

but then his wife steps forward with an obvious challenge behind her eyes, a devious look on her face as she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“how do you think eunbi’s gonna take this? had you even considered that?” she asks, her eyebrow arched upward as she feigns a soft tone. 

“do you think she’s gonna be okay with her best friend being her new step mommy? that her father picked some charity case over her?”

“i care about eunbi more than you ever have,” seonghwa growls back, his jaw clenched and neck veins threatening to burst at the mention of his daughter. “you were never there for her and you continue to be that way.”

“really? am i the one dating her friend?” she asks, her eyes wide and mocking.

“should i try to make a move on jiwoon? is that what good parents do these days, seonghwa? please enlighten me, father of the year, i obviously need some help.”

his jaw ticks and he clenches his fists at her sarcasm, the anger and frustration building up in him dangerously. 

it wasn’t even like he never wanted his wife to find out for the sake of them, there’s nothing for him to feel fearful of because he knows, just as much as she does, that they were never in love or together. 

but this is what he feared the most.

her finding out and using it against him because of eunbi. have her question his love for his daughter when, really, he’s proven to do anything and everything for her - even putting up with this wretched woman for his entire life. 

“you don’t get to talk shit to me when you do what you do,” seonghwa says, his voice deep and warning. “you’re not winning mother of the year anytime soon either.”

“no but i’m also not in a hidden affair with someone half my age,” she bites back, her eyes calculated and narrowed. “someone who’s her best friend and should’ve been loyal to her.”

the woman takes in all the anger and frustration and disgust in her husband’s eyes as he looks at her; she’d feel bad, maybe, that he’s obviously been unhappy for all of these years, if she didn’t feel exactly the same.

because while she’s never been fond of him, this display has made it even worse. him finding happiness with someone, a broke college girl no less, while she’s been alone and miserable.

“i knew you were having one too,” she begins, all the nights he slept at work and how much happier he was everyday incredibly suspicious. “but i never thought it’d be with her. i... didn’t think you were that desperate.”

“y/n is sweet. and a good person,” seonghwa begins, not sure why he’s even bothering to defend himself but not being able to stop the words from leaving him. “she’s everything you’re not and that’s why she makes me-”

“end it with her and we’ll keep it between us,” she says, cutting him off with absolutely no interest in hearing him talk about you; she has to bite back a laugh, really, watching his eyes flash with anger the moment she mentioned you.

she reaches out so her cold finger runs along his sharp jaw, her smirk widening when he pulls away from her touch like it was a hot flame. 

“don’t? and your daughter will know within the month.”

because if she’s unhappy, she’s gonna make sure both of you are as well - no matter how she has to meet that goal.

“we have to break up then,” you blurt out, immediately brought out of your panic-induced trance as you hear the ultimatum his wife had given him. “we... we knew this was gonna happen,” you say, chest rising and falling as your breaths quicken and heart races.

“we knew there was a chance of us getting caught and her finding out,” you say, your heart pounding viciously as reality finally starts to set in.

that the affair is out and mrs. park knows about you and him.

she knows you’re the home wrecking whore you’ve felt yourself to be for all of these months, kissing seonghwa behind closed doors and going on secret dates and living this double life of an ambitious, studious roommate and shameless flirt turned sugar baby turned girlfriend.

smuggling seonghwa in your apartment and then hiding him from eunbi, who sat right there on the couch, oblivious and trusting and so considerate of you, as her father was just a few feet away in your room. 

being so bold as to just look and smile and flirt with him in public, when you knew his daughter was distracted and his wife was right there - what the fuck were you thinking? what the fuck have you been thinking?

“this... was so fucking reckless, seonghwa, and i can’t believe we did it,” you say, shaking your head as panic clogs your throat. 

“e-eunbi’s gonna find out and she’s gonna hate me. i... i can’t have her hate me, she’s been the only person i’ve had for four years,” you cry, struggling to breathe through your panicked breaths and tears.

“and i’ve just been a terrible friend and sketchy bitch and oh, my god, seonghwa, what have we been doi-”

“y/n,” he mumbles softly, his arms holding you just as you collapse against him in a fit of sobs. 

each and every sound brings a sharp pain to his heart, your face buried in his chest as you cry into his shirt and he holds the back of your head. his hand rakes through your hair slowly and calmly, shushing against your head as he tightens his hold on you. 

“what have we been doing?” you whimper, the idea of it alone, the sneaking around, the lying, the mere concept of dating your friend’s father, causing you to feel so horribly nauseous.

“we’ve been lying to everyone.”

he can feel your body start to give out as he travels over to the couch, plopping down on the cushions before bringing you into his lap. 

you continue to let out all your worries and fears and shame as you sit there completely soaking the shoulder of his shirt, thinking about how all of this could go.

about how rightfully angry and disgusted eunbi’s gonna be.

about how all the fears she once had about people using her for her dad are gonna seem to come true before her very eyes.

about how she’ll put two and two together, learn that the man making you so happy and giddy and like jukyung was none other than her fucking father. 

his raises your head to look at him when he can’t take your sobs any longer, a frown on his face as he holds your chin gently. 

“please stop crying,” he mumbles softly, his thumb swiping across your wet, teary cheeks. 

“h-how can i not, seonghwa?” you squeak out, your tearful eyes looking over him in utter bewilderment. 

“she... she knows and she’s gonna tell eunbi. even when we break up, she’ll have this over you and she can use it for the rest of your life. she’s gonna-”

“when we break up?” he questions, his eyebrows pulled together as he looks over your face questioningly. “who said we’re breaking up?”

he would’ve laughed at the look on your face if the atmosphere wasn’t so intense, his own worries and anxiety just as prevalent as yours - he’s just had more time to think it over, ponder any and all possibilities about how he feels about the situation and how he can fix it.

“i... are you crazy?” you ask, tears no longer falling but the gutted feeling still deep within your chest and stomach. “we have to. she said so herself. this was a risk and we knew it and we can’t think that she won’t-”

“i told you i wasn’t gonna let her or anyone else determine if we stay together,” he says, the deep and low surety in his voice causing the most inappropriate timing of butterflies to build in your stomach. 

“we don’t have to be scared of her.”

“she’s gonna tell eunbi,” you squeak out brokenly, a fresh set of tears springing in your eyes at the mention of your friend - because all of your fears go back to that. 

destroying a friendship that you love so much. 

“she’ll hate me, seonghwa. i don’t wanna lose you but i... i also don’t wanna lose my best friend. i can’t have her think that i..”

because you don’t wanna break up with him, and you both truly know that, but you also can’t bear the thought of eunbi finding out. of her learning that this whole time, you’ve been lying right to her face and thinking that you picked a man, her father no less, over your friendship.

“and you won’t,” he promises softly, kissing the wet tears off your face gently. 

“i will take care of my wi... her and she won’t say anything,” he assures you, his hands running over your face with the sweetest amount of delicacy. “i already told her i’m not gonna let her dictate my life anymore.”

you wish you could be as confident as him, the way he seems to be so calm and sure that this is gonna work itself out; but you just can’t quell the worry in your stomach or the ache in your chest, the look on your face causing him to smile sadly at you. 

because you wanna trust him, you really do, but you can’t help but feel like mrs. park has plans of her own. 

that, regardless of what happens between you and him, she’s gonna want to get back at her cheating husband and the friend of her daughter whom she never liked. 

a fresh set of tears burn your eyes as the lump grows in your throat, feeling like it’s about to completely suffocate you for good tonight.

“i’m scared of her,” you admit honestly, voice barely above a whisper as you look at him with your teary eyes. 

“she’s gonna be able to hold this over your head and use it as a threat every time now. this- this isn’t just gonna go away, seonghwa, and i don’t know how we’re gonna get past this. i can’t see her just-”

“i love you.”

the admission causes your body to still, eyes moving to his as your heart pounds rapidly in your chest - this time, for entirely different reasons. i

t’s fear and panic mixed with a giddy kind of excitement. 

a sad, almost hopeless feeling lingering inside of you. 

because you wish you could hear those words under better circumstances, not when it feels like your life is crashing down and you’re about to spiral to the lowest a person can go.

but you think it’s exactly what you need to hear right now too, if the way your tears break again and you’re staring at him ready to blurt out those words right back to him. 

“i love you and you’re my only concern right now,” he repeats to you honestly, his thumbs swiping under your cheeks with a small smile on his face. “i’m gonna make sure that at the end of this, you’re okay. that nothing bad or irreversible happens. to make you sad or regretful.”

irreversible meaning eunbi doesn’t hate you forever or he leaves you for good or mrs. park breaks into your apartment to kill you in your sleep - but regretful? you’re not sure you can ever feel that way, even given all of this drama.

because at the end of this, you love him t-

“just don’t leave, baby,” he begs lowly, the thought of you leaving here with decisions of a break up hurting him to the core. “i know you’re scared but, please, don’t-”

“i love you too,” you blurt out, eyes staring wide into his and your heart beating a mile a minute.

he can’t explain the feeling that rips through his chest when he hears you say that, sees the soft and honest and almost desperate look in your eye as you tell him that. 

he’s never felt anything like it in his life, almost forty years of never feeling like anyone loved him in such a way - it’s crazy for him to think that now, realizing how much and how desperately he wants you.

how desperately and dependently he’s come to need you to function daily. 

“i love you too and i don’t want us to break up,” you tell him with surety, smiling softly when he sighs out a breath of relief. “but i also don’t want you to-”

anything you have to say can wait until after he kisses you, his hands on your cheeks and mouth covering yours as your lips meet in a flurry.

it’s every bit as passionate and desperate and full of longing as your first was, with so much pent up tension and lust, it almost knocked you both out on the spot.

this time, though, there’s a certain type of passion and desperation that only comes with love, an intense, all-consuming, genuine love, that comes up when it’s threatened to be ripped away.

but neither of you are willing to let that happen, no matter the circumstances you both know are lingering closely behind.

“girl are you sure you’re okay?” eunbi asks a few nights later, watching you pace around the living room for the 4th time in twenty minutes. “should i ditch my night class? bring you to the psych ward instead?”

she had noticed you acting weird for a few days now, constantly on edge or staring off into space. 

tensing when the delivery man knocked on the door or when her sorority sister dropped off a bouquet of flowers; she had to call your name three times before you would finally jump up and look at her. 

she thought, maybe, it could be the stress of finals and graduation coming around but that didn’t seem right. it seemed like more. like you were just waiting around for someone to show up and beat you down.

“why- why would someone wanna beat me up, eunbi?” you ask when the girl blurts out her suspicions, the girl throwing herself down next to you as she shrugs her shoulders.

“that’s what i’m saying!” she squeals, fixing the messy strands falling out of your bun. 

her eyes roam over your face far too intensely, squinting ever so slightly when she swipes at a particularly dark part under your eye - maybe it definitely is the stress of school, is she thinking too much into this?

“are you sure you’re alright, though?” she asks, the slightest hint of apprehension in her tone. “i know i keep asking you but... i don’t know, you seem stressed.”

“it’s just cause of school,” you lie through your teeth, not even surprised by how easy it is now. “i... i just can’t wait for us to be done. truly, honestly.”

a smile lights up her face as she nods her head, an uneasy feeling still swirling in the pit of her stomach as she looks at you with the softest eyes she can muster. 

“i’m sure she’s fine, babe,” jiwoon reassures his girlfriend on the phone later that night, eunbi walking from her class to her car two hours later. “finals and shit are stressful.”

“ugh but i don’t know, jiwoon, it’s different,” she sighs to her boyfriend, a pout on her face as she walks through the warm night air. 

“she just keeps, like... looking around like someone’s about to attack her at any moment. completely on edge and terrified, i’ve never seen anything like it from her.”

“you said she’s not close with her parents, right?” he asks, hearing the genuine concern in his girlfriend’s voice. “could they have something to do with it?”

“what, like attacking her before graduation?” she scoffs, slamming her car door as she plops down in her seat. “i know they’re kind of crazy and, like, totally hate college or whatever, but that’d be really insane.”

“i don’t know, babe, but if she’s saying she’s fine, you have to believe her,” he says, “and besides, sometimes... your intuition is off.”

“what! never!” eunbi squeals into the phone, turning on the ignition as she prepares to have this debate with her boyfriend. “i’m literally almost always right.”

“my cousin being straight?”

“it seemed like he put him in the friend zo-”

“danny and y/n hitting it off?”

“okay, but that isn’t fair! danny was just-”

“thinking i was going to propose on prom night?”

“you set the fucking scene for a proposal! what the hell else was i supposed to think?”

eunbi and jiwoon argue on the ten minute drive home about prom night all those years ago, eunbi remembering the flowers, slow music and champagne in their hotel room seeming so much like a cheesy marriage proposal.

she didn’t know her boyfriend was really just trying to impress her, be all kinds of cliche and romantic that they both would laugh at now. 

“well when you propose, y/n will simply have to take our wedding photos,” eunbi says as she walks through the apartment door, eyes scanning the living room and kitchen for you. “and no cheesy rose petal shit.”

she knocks on your bedroom door and peeks her head in to find it empty, lips squished to the side before she goes back into the main room. 

it’s then she sees the note on the entryway mirror you left for her, messily scribbled handwriting saying that you’re out doing a project with your group and to order dinner without her. 

eunbi lets out a sigh as she tells jiwoon she’s on her own for dinner, smiling to herself when he says he’s already on his way. 

“you didn’t have to get me dinner, i would’ve eaten before,” you whine to seonghwa, the man sitting at the table watching you eat your sushi take out. 

he had had a business dinner before insisting you come over an hour ago, needing some sort of happiness and relief after dealing with snobby, old businessmen all night. 

there was nothing that got his headaches away quicker than seeing you, hearing your soft giggle or quiet “thank you,” when he feeds you a spoonful of rice.

“i like to make sure you’re full,” he says, your eyes narrowing as a smirk crosses his face. you shake your head as you let out a giggle, licking your lips before pulling back and resting your hands on your stomach. 

“well congrats,” you remark with a sigh, your body drained of energy as you curl yourself onto the chair. “because i’m very full. stuffed, even,” you say, a giggle bubbling out of you when he shakes his head. 

he eyes you with half lustful, half amused eyes, cleaning up your take out boxes and napkins as you watch him. 

you love it most when he’s dressed casually, in a pair of black sweatpants and a big sweatshirt on top. he barely looks older than you when he’s like this, making his way over to you so he’s standing between your legs.

“how was your day?” he asks, wracking his fingers through your hair as he looks over your face; he doesn’t like how tired you’ve looked lately, the defeated and tense look in your eye like you’re completely unsettled by your current life.

“it was okay,” you tell him, smiling up at him in a way that’s so pretty but he knows is fake. “how about yours?”

“kinda shitty,” he mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before he pulls  back to look at you. “which is why wanted to see you.”

you smile against his lips as you nudge yourself closer to him, meeting his lips again in a tired, lazy kiss that you need just as much as him. he picks you up and brings you over to the bed, plopping your body down without disconnecting the kiss.

he hovers above you as he slips his tongue in your mouth, a tiny whine leaving you before he’s trailing his lips down on your body. over the pulse point in your neck and delicate curve of your collar bone. 

cold hands lifting up your shirt to reveal you with nothing underneath, his lips dragging down the middle of your chest as his long fingers take care of getting your bottoms off.

you look down at him just as he takes your thong off, cold air hitting your pussy before it’s covered by his hot mouth. your eyes roll back as he flicks and sucks at your clit, putting all his time and effort and dedication into eating you out like he needs it to survive. 

needs your hands tugging at his hair and your hips bucking into his face, your quiet whines and moans of “seonghwa,” ringing through the apartment.

your desperate moves to pull him up and connect your lips, tasting yourself on him before you beg him to put his cock in you.

he slips inside you as you both let out satisfied moans in unison, his deep grunts in your neck and your legs wrapped around his hips something that’s become like second nature.

the way your bodies have come to fit so perfectly and are so naturally used to each other. 

how every thrust of his hips hit a spot in you that has you crying out, your pussy squeezing around him tighter and tighter despite the harsh sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the apartment. 

“come,” he demands lowly in your ear, smirking to himself when, no less than a second later, you’re convulsing around him and moaning out his name loudly. 

you feel him release inside you a few moments later, his body collapsing on top of yours as a bead of sweat from his forehead drips onto you.

your face pulls into a wince despite the way his come is dripping between your legs, wiping at his face with a grimace that has him smiling at you sweetly. 

he pulls you into the shower where you two wash your hair and bodies in contentment, giggling when seonghwa nearly slips and then stopping when he throws you a chastising look.

you guys don’t have to say anything to know you’ll be sleeping over tonight, seonghwa plopping your dry, naked body down on the bed. you crawl upwards and wait for him to slip inside, resting your head on his chest as you trace tiny shapes on his warm skin.

it’s something you’ve come to do every night you spend with him, figure eights or his name or random little phrases that make him smile and guess at random.

“can i ask you something?” you suddenly mumble after stupidly doodling a question mark, resting your chin on his chest as you look at him.

he smiles softly upon seeing your face, tired eyes and skin so soft, he can’t help but touch your cheek gently. 

“anything, baby.” 

“has she said anything?”

he licks over his lips as he takes in the expression on your face, wanting to let out a sigh and scold you for being so wrapped up in this still; but he supposes he can’t blame you, seeing the way the events of last week are still making you feel so much anxiety. 

“no,” he replies honestly, him and his wife avoiding contact with each other like the plague. “i’ve only been home once since then though.”

you let out a sigh as you nod your head, biting down on your lip as he looks over you carefully.

“why’s this still in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he mumbles, his hands running through your wet hair. “i don’t want you so hung up on this, baby.”

“i can’t help it,” you whine, pushing your head into his chest gently. “i... i keep feeling like she’s watching me. like she’s gonna see me on the street or in my classroom and attack me.”

“i can promise you she won’t lay a hand on you,” he mumbles into your ear, wrapping his arms around you gently. “i’m not gonna let anything happen, my love.”

you went to bed that night believing him - you even woke up the best you’ve felt in days, eyes fluttering open to the feel of him pressing soft pecks all over your cheeks and forehead. 

“good morning, beautiful,” he mumbled lowly, the bright sun just rising outside. 

“hi,” you greet sleepily, stretching your arms up and out as you wiggle your fingers to him. he smiles as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, eyes closing and mouth humming contently when he lays back down with you. 

it takes you both a while to get up, content in the warmth of his bed and the feel of each other’s skin; but once his alarm starts blaring, you know you have to get up too. 

“you have class today, yeah?” he asks, standing tall as he slips on his business attire for the day.��

“mhm,” you nod, “not till ten, though.”

“are you gonna go back to sleep?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you into him.

you look up and give him a small smile, pressing up on your toes to place a soft, quick kiss on his lips. 

“i might.”

he doesn’t usually walk you down but feels the overwhelming need to today, your late night confession that you feel unsafe making his heart tug in his chest. 

he would never let anything happen to you but knows he can’t be with you all the time, his hand wound tightly in yours all the way down the hall and in the elevator. 

you notice his morning clinginess but don’t comment on it, instead basking and enjoying it because you don’t wanna leave him today. there’s something especially vulnerable and weepy within you today, wishing you could just spend the whole day with him trapped inside the apartment. 

“i’ll talk to you later?” he asks, a few stops away from the ground floor as he pulls you into him. “text me when you get home.”

you mumble a soft confirmation before he presses his lips to yours, mouths immediately parting until the soft ding rings through the elevator. 

you disconnect your hands as you two walk toward the doors, arms bumping and shy smiles exchanged until you’re waving to him from outside the building.

his eyes roam the street as you walk to your car, not turning around to leave until he sees you pull off into the road and head toward the apartment. 

but with his eyes so focused on you, he had somehow managed to miss the white car parked on the opposite side of the street. sunglass-covered eyes watching the building with such growing rage, the driver can’t help but follow your car with one idea in mind.

you crashed down on the couch the moment you walked inside the apartment, letting out a tired yawn as you decided between going back to sleep, starting a new show or proofreading the final essay of your college career one more time.

a few more hours of sleep could be just what you need to not be exhausted today, two long classes ahead of you before you meet with a few students to finish up your portfolios. 

but you’ve also been really wanting to start a new show that came out on netflix, eunbi insisting you watch the first two episodes so you can start watching together. 

you’re about to get up to go to bed, the exhaustion behind your eyes heavy and winning over, when every bit of emotion drains from your body. 

the knock at your door immediately fills you with panic, the anxious pounding of your heart something you’re all too familiar with these days starting up with a vengeance.

it’s the same type of nervousness you felt in seonghwa’s apartment last week, when you heard the thumbing in your ears and felt light headed in a matter of seconds.

you could barely get off the couch to get to the door due to the shaking of your legs, half relieved and half terrified that eunbi had her early 7 a.m. class today. 

another knock pounds through a few seconds later, a giant lump forming in your throat as you stare at the door with wide, terrified eyes - a part of you somehow already knows who’s there. 

that it’s not just paranoia wracking your brain making you think eyes having been watching you or cars have been following you. 

a part of you knows that, when you put your eye in the peep hole, you’re gonna see mrs. park’s pretty face staring at the door with daggers in her gaze and not a hair out of place.

you can’t even decide if you’re gonna play dumb or crumble at her feet before you’re opening the door, her eyes lighting up the moment she takes in your more humble, tired appearance. 

“y/n,” her voice rings melodically, not even waiting to be invited in before she pushes her way past you. 

you let out a shaky breath as you look out into your apartment hallway, hoping and praying one of your neighbors is home if you, for whatever reason, start getting your shit rocked.

you close the door and turn around to see her standing near the living room, eyes taking in the space before turning to meet your gaze.

“h-hi mrs. park,” you say when she just continues to look at you, eyebrow quirked and a look so unsettling in her eyes, it makes your heart pound even more. 

“eunbi’s not here. she had class at-”

“i’m not here to see eunbi.”

her voice is cold and icy as she peers into you, her shoes clacking on the floor as she makes her way over to you.

“i’m here to see you, y/n,” she says, her slow way of speaking and strong, flowery perfume making your nose crinkle up. “and i have a feeling you know why.”

she watches you with her lips pursed and eyebrow cocked to perfection, waiting to see if you play dumb, the way she suspects, or drop to your knees and beg her not to tell her daughter about the affair. 

but you continue to surprise her more and more everyday, watching as you swallow the lump in your throat before meeting her gaze meekly. 

“i’m sorry.”

the sentence shocks you both and it’s clear in the way you both stare at each other; you with fear and guilt and an overwhelming amount of anxiety and her own a dull, hard look. 

like she wouldn’t hesitate to hit you over the head with her five inch heel right now if she didn’t wanna verbally assault you instead.

“for what? sleeping with my husband or lying to my daughter?”

you press your lips together so you don’t let out a cry, willing your eyes to not fill with tears as you stare at the woman wide-eyed.

“mrs. park, i swear i never intended on-”

“don’t speak. just listen.”

you swallow the lump in your throat as you hear her shoes clack toward you, moving yourself further and further back as she advances on you like a predator to prey.

“i know how charming and perfect my husband can be,” she begins, her voice all kinds of melodic and wispy as her cat-like eyes peer into yours. “that’s how i ended up with him in the first place.”

“i know how he probably said all the right things to you. how he made you feel so special and loved and important,” she says. “my husband’s always been too nice for his own good. i would always try to tell him he can’t be that handsome and kind. that people might get the wrong idea.”

you swallow as she continues to walk toward you, the unsettling look in her eye only heightening your discomfort when your back hits the kitchen counter.

“you’re young, y/n. and naive. and i know you were probably desperate for that tuition money.”

“i’m not with seonghwa for the money.”

you swear her eyes flare a little bit as you address her husband by name, her hand itching to slap you purely out of power and need for respect than jealously. 

“oh? then what are you with my husband for?” she sneers, her voice lower and darker, with such a bite in it, it makes you back up into the kitchen island. 

“please do tell. do you guys love each other? are you gonna be a happy little couple together forever? be a close family unit with eunbi?”

she can see the guilt in your eyes when you mention her daughter’s name, a smirk crossing her lips as she watches right there your weakness unfold.

“the girl’s always had a tough time making friends, as outgoing as she is, you know,” mrs. park says, roaming over your face with a passive, long look. “i think she always found it hard to trust people, because of our wealth and the way she was raised.”

you wanna tell the woman that, yes, you know this because eunbi’s told you all about it. she told you how hard it was growing up in her rich little town with rich kid politics and problems.

she told you about how her mother never helped her through anything, pushing her off to nannies or other parents or anyone who wasn’t her. 

“she was so happy when she met you. i remember her saying, no matter what, she was going to best friends with her college roommate. that you two were gonna form a bond like no other,” she says, the feigned soft and fascinated look on her face being replaced by something cold and twisted.

she was like a disney villain come to life, both, the beauty and mannerisms that were absolutely terrifying. 

“but she never did specify if she’d forgive a home wrecking whore of a roommate,” mrs. park snaps, eyes narrowing as her eyes bore into yours. “a home wrecking whore who picked her father nonetheless.”

she can see you’re rendered completely speechless as you look at her, tears burning the back of your eyes as fear and shame climb in your body. 

“i mean, seriously y/n, what were you thinking?” mrs. park asks, that melodic, rich sounding laugh you just knew she had bubbling out of her mouth. 

“did you not think for once about how... absurd all of this was? how much you’ve betrayed eunbi’s trust?”

“o-of course i have but i never meant to-”

“did you even like my daughter? or respect her?” she asks, head cocked as she looks at you like a disapproving mother. “how many times have you lied to her about where you’ve been? like, this morning, for instance. where did she think you were?”

your eyes widen as her words register in your head, realizing in this moment that, no less than an hour ago, she saw you leave seonghwa’s office with him right beside you. 

she can see the exact moment you catch on too, both, because, of the look on your face and the glossy glaze that comes over your eyes. it causes the first real smile to cross her face today, licking over her lips before her face falls and she’s leaning closer to you.

“listen to me very carefully, y/n, because this is what’s gonna happen,” she says, tone so dangerously low and quiet, it makes your blood run cold. 

“you’re gonna go about your day. do whatever mundane, nonsensical work you do as a photography major that my husband wasted his hard earned money on,” she says, just needing to throw in a knock about your laughable education. 

“then you’re gonna call him, not mention a word of this conversation and break up with him. tell him the guilt’s become too much and you don’t ever want to see him again. do i make myself clear?”

you stare back at her with tears welling in your eyes, heart pounding and chest heaving as you see a vein just barely protruding out of her flawless, pale skin. 

silence stretches between the two of you in the apartment, able to hear a pin drop in this tense kitchen right now.

“i said do i make myself clear?” she asks, voice raising as she smacks the counter beside you. “or do you want me calling eunbi right-”

“no,” you immediately blurt out, a satisfied smirk on her face a few moments after you say it. 

she could see the moment she walked in how important your friendship to eunbi was. how the guilt and shame was so quick to surface behind your eyes, it’s like you made it a little too easy for her.

she can see why you and seonghwa worked, both of you so weak and wearing your hearts on your sleeves. 

“that’s what i thought, y/n,” she mutters, stepping back as she looks over your cowering figure. “and if you mention a word of this to anyone, i will-”

“i mean no, i’m not calling seonghwa.”

you watch her pretty face morph from calm to confused as her eyebrow twitches, looking over you like you’ve completely lost your mind until you’re speaking again.

“i’m not calling him and i’m not breaking up with him,” you repeat, your voice nervous and horribly shaky but the words coming out regardless. 

“i... i love him and we’re good together. you guys haven’t been a real couple in a long time and you both know that. it’s not even like you-”

a harsh slap to your cheek causes the words to halt, a stinging pain on your face as you look at the woman who’s composure finally cracked. who’s no longer standing so calm, cool and collected in front of you but, instead, fuming. 

“how dare you,” she growls lowly, her head shaking as she takes a step in front of you again. 

she’s towering over you in her heels and you should probably feel more threatened than you do, between that and the crazy look in her eye. 

“you came into my home and made eyes at my husband the whole time,” she growls lowly, voice all kinds of snippy and harsh, you’re surprised the windows aren’t breaking. 

“then fell for his lies and perverted gawking stares so he could pay for your pitiful art degree? is that what it’s been about the whole time?” she quips, an eyebrow quirked as she looks at you full of anger. 

“or were you just looking for love wherever you could find it? even if it was with an older, married man who’s the father of your friend?”

“it wasn’t ever about the money. i never asked for him to do that.”

“but he still did, didn’t he?” she snarls, her hand raising and itching to slap you gain. “you still let him and you still slept with him. still whored yourself out for man who used you to get exactly what he wanted from you.”

but that couldn’t be any further from the truth. 

because while it could look like that on the surface, an older man with money and a broke college girl with a pretty face, that wasn’t the case for you and seonghwa. 

you fell in love as fucked up as it was, you have a genuine romantic and emotional connection together that neither of you have ever felt before. 

you two have never been as happy as you’ve been since you got together, even with the lying and the guilt and the thousands of things proving this shouldn’t have happened in the first place.  

“did you know we had our first kiss here?” you ask, feeling bold and snarky despite the absolute dread and anxiety in you. “it was weeks after he paid my tuition.”

she doesn’t get to lie and toy with you the way she so desperately wants to. you’re not gonna let her break you and seonghwa apart, nor are you gonna allow her to just torture him with her words and threats. 

your eyes travel to the corner of the room just a few feet away from you as she stares wide-eyed at you, the outraged look on her face almost comical if you weren’t shitting your pants out of fear.

“right against that wall.”

your gaze shifts back to see her full of pure rage, the vein in her forehead bulging so dangerously, you think her pretty little face is about to explode. 

“you don’t get to dictate seonghwa’s life anymore,” you growl lowly at her, pushing her back and watching her stumble in her heels. 

“you’ve made him miserable enough. can’t you just finally let him be happy?”

but that’s the very last thing she intends on happening, especially now, her face pinched and hands shaking as she stands tall. she looks over your face with her pretty brown eyes full of so much ugly rage, it almost makes you feel happy. 

until she leans in as close as she can get to you and takes your face in her hold, gripping your chin tightly and squeezing until a pang of pain causes you to flinch. 

“you’re just as stupid as i thought,” mrs. park snarls, looking down at you with so much hate in your eyes, you’d be dead if she could kill. “eunbi will be interested to hear how you picked her father over her.”

her heels clack against the floor as you stand in the kitchen dumbly, all the adrenaline racing in your body crashing the moment you hear the front door slam.

your legs give out as you sink down the counter onto the cold floor, shaking and crying into your hands as the horrific reminder sets in that, from this point on, you and your best friend will never be the same. 

seonghwa bursts through the door of his house immediately calling out his wife’s name, walking through the immaculate white home with his eyes on fire and voice booming.

he couldn’t even comprehend the amount of rage in his body as he stomps through the house with wandering eyes, finally landing on her sitting at the dining room table.

she’s all alone except for a glass of red wine and smirk on her face.

“i was expecting you home.”

“what the fuck did you think you were doing?” seonghwa’s deep voice roars, walking over to the woman seated at the long glass table. “have you lost your mind?”

“me? have i lost my mind?” she asks, her voice back to being so cool, calm and collected despite the twitch in her gaze. “are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“how could you go over there?” seonghwa growls, his veins turning red and hot as he just thinks about his conversation with you from an hour ago. 

the moment he saw your name pop up on his phone, he had a bad feeling something happened. you’ve never ever called me during work hours, texting him throughout the day and asking when he could talk.

“hello?” he answered, voice muffled as he sits in his office across from his two business partners. 

he could only hear your soft cries and whimpers, immediately rising from his seat and walking outside to a desolate corner.

“y/n, baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, immediately rendered scared and helpless at the sound leaving you. “what happened?”

“she... she came here,” you squeak out, shaking body still on the cold tile floor. “she saw me leave your office this morning. she- she’s gonna tell eunbi today. she tried to get me to break up with you but i told her i wasn’t gonna. i wasn’t gonna let her-”

“baby, slow down and breathe for me, okay?” he mumbles, hearing your rapid, shaky breaths and panicked voice. “take a few deep breaths and try to calm down.”

but you don’t think anything’s gonna calm you down right now, not with the thoughts and terror that is mrs. park plaguing your entire being right now. 

“she followed me home from the office,” you tell him again, in disbelief that, this whole time, you were right in thinking someone’s been watching you. 

“then- then she just barged in here and kept talking about eunbi. she wanted m-me to tell you that my guilt was too much and i needed to end it.”

he lets out a deep breath as he hears your words, rage flooding through him at an alarmingly fast speed; he’s usually commended himself for always staying calm, cool and collected - never realizing how bad his temper actually was until someone posed as a threat to you.

“did she hurt you?”

you’re faintly aware of the stinging redness on your cheek, placing your cold hand on the warm, sensitive skin with a wince. 

“i... she slapped me,” you mumble lowly, hoping it’s low enough for him to not hear and maybe drop it altogether. 

but you hear him rustling around the moment after you say it, mumbling to his bosses that there was an emergency at home and he had to leave the office today. 

“s-seonghwa, where are you going?”

“go to your class and then go right back home, okay? can you do that for me?” he asks, trying his best to remain calm and soft spoken as he rushes out to his car. 

“i’ll come pick you up later, baby. i’m so sorry this happened.”

“i’m okay, seonghwa. it’s okay,” you insist, shaking your head because you’re not at all concerned about yourself right now. “i... it’s just... eunbi, she’s gonna-”

“i’m gonna take care of it,” he promises, the sinking feeling in his own stomach trumped by the upmost anger and fury in his veins. “i promise, love. just... be careful and go right home after class. i’ll talk to later.”

“stake outside my building like some psychotic stalker and follow her to her home?” he snarls, his jaw tightening as he recalls his conversation with you. “and then you put your hands on her? i should throw you out on the street right now you crazy bitch.”

“oh, please, seonghwa,” the woman laughs melodically, sipping from her wine like it’s a casual sunday afternoon at the winery. “you’re much too emotional right now. how ‘bout you go to the back and take a-”

the wine is ripped from her hand and on the floor in a second, glass shattering against the wood as he throws it against the wall. 

the red liquid spills on everything white and it looks like a scene from a horror movie, seonghwa’s dark eyes looking at his wife who’s wearing an unamused expression on her face.

“it was a little slap, seonghwa,” the woman remarks, not admitting how much the darkness in her husband’s eyes is unsettling her. “let’s not act like i beat the girl.”

“you don’t touch her,” he growls, his large, tall body looming above his wife as he stares down at her menacingly.

“you don’t look at her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t do anything to her. she has nothing to do with anything so i suggest you take this as a warning before i-”

“nothing to do with anything? you’re having an affair with her, seonghwa! she’s your mistress!”

“we don’t give a fuck about each other!” seonghwa yells back, his voice deep and loud as his screams echo in the house. 

“we haven’t been a couple ever, in our fucking lives. not once. we got married for eunbi and our parents and that was it. we’ve never loved each other and we never will. there was no reason for you to go to y/n and make threats to her.”

“that didn’t give you the right to do that,” she growls back, standing up from her seat and standing toe to toe with her husband. “we were still a family unit, seonghwa, no matter how much we hate each other.”

“i didn’t hate you until about an hour ago,” he growls darkly, the glass crackling under his black loafers as he takes a step toward her. “i was incredibly indifferent to your presence. but who do you think you are going over there like some scorned wife and assaulting my-”

“dad? mom?” eunbi asks, hearing their screams until she sees the red wine staining the floor. 

“oh-em-gee not the wine! what kind of klutz let the wine glass spi-” her eyes travel up to reveal her parents current position, in each other’s faces wearing equally anger and fuming expressions. 

“uhh, what the hell is happening here?”

seonghwa feels his entire body tense as he looks at his daughter’s face, taking a few steps back as he forces a smile at eunbi.

“what are you doing home, bi?”

“m...mom called me,” she answers, although it sounds more like a question. 

her eyes continue to watch her parents with concern, her dad looking more fearful and anxious whereas her mom looks unbothered. maybe even a little...happy and relieved.

this isn’t really surprising, though, since her mom could probably watch someone drop dead on this floor and not have a care in the world.

“is everything okay?” 

are you guys getting a divorce? she asks hopefully in her head.

her father answers yes just as her mother shakes her head no, an almost amused, “not at all,” leaving her mouth causing eunbi’s eyebrows to pull together. 

she looks at her father for more clarification, trusting his word more than anything, and getting even more suspicious when he looks down at the red stained floor silently. 

“what’s going on?” she asks after a few quiet seconds, her voice shaking with uncertainty at th energy in the room.

there’s that bad feeling building back in the pit of her stomach, like the weird feelings she’s been getting around you and when she saw her parents fighting on the flight back from cancun.

her eyes move from her parents to the wine back to her father’s unmoving, blank stare, her mother watching him with a quirked eyebrow and expectant expression.

“dad... what happened?”

she swallows the lump in her throat when he finally meets her gaze, the look behind his eyes one she’s never seen before. an overwhelming amount of guilt and shame and sadness, like he’s done something completely unforgivable. 

“is someone gonna tell me what the hell is happening? you’re both freaking me out.”

“just wait until you hear what he did,” her mom remarks with a smirk, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth as she gets up from her chair to get another glass. 

“you want wine, bi? you might need it.”

“i want answers,” eunbi spits back, the calm, callousness of her mom and the freaked out silence from her dad making her increasingly irritated and scared. “what is going on?”

eunbi watches as her father stares down his wife silently, pouring herself a new glass before taking a seat at the table.

“sit down first, eunbi.”

but the girl refuses, intent on looking at her father and mother with expectant, concerned eyes. 

“no. tell me what’s going on or i’m leaving.”

“where would you go? back to the apartment with y/n?” her mother asks, “i certainly wouldn’t recommend that.”

“stop it,” seonghwa growls warningly, addressing his wife with the deepest and gruffest voice eunbi’s ever heard. she watches her father become increasingly angry at the mention of you, her mom’s face challenging and full of spite.

“why are you talking about y/n?” eunbi asks, confused as to why you’re even coming up in the conversation. “what does she have to do with anything?”

“seonghwa. are you gonna tell her or should i?” 

the man can only stand there with the greatest amount of shame he thinks a person ever could, meeting his daughter’s gaze with a look that makes tears burn the back of her eyes.

she doesn’t even know why they’re coming or how a lump has formed in her throat, like her body’s trying to warn her something bad is coming. 

“dad... what’s wrong? what’s happening?” she asks, thinking everything from a family death to illness to white collar crime. “whatever happened doesn’t matter. you’re both just scaring the shit out of me so please-”

“your father’s been having an affair.”

a few beats of silence pass before eunbi’s eyebrows pull together in slight confusion, eyes moving between the both of them.

she’s watched them for years avoid each other and act like strangers in the same house. growing up, she hadn’t once seen her parents hug or kiss or look at each other a shred of affection. 

when she was old enough to observe and truly understand her family’s dynamic, it was easy to see they were together for her; on top of the fact that money had always been a factor in the relationship as well.

she had suspicions their marriage had been somewhat arranged, a stroke of luck or, perhaps, the most terrible fate in the world, that her mom fell pregnant with park seonghwa’s child. 

it only made their parents even more sure they were destined to be. build their empires up and be the most successful heirs they’d ever seen.

which is why this news isn’t so... devastating to her. her mom never loved him and he never loved her, so what’s the big deal? he deserves to be happy.

he’s always been kind and thoughtful and there for her through everything. he was always there to tuck her in or read a story to her at night, aging gracefully with her as he became everything a daughter could want in a father.

seonghwa can’t quite read the expression on his daughter’s face, confusion and intrigue on her face as she looks at him questioningly.

“so... are you guys getting a divorce?” she asks, unsure as to why exactly her mother demanded her home for this. 

her mom’s lips quirk as she looks at her daughter, standing up and placing a cold, delicate hand on her shoulder. 

eunbi could only count on one hand how many times her mother has touched her affectionately, never giving her a long hug after a meltdown or a reassuring pat on the back when her report card came back with all a’s. 

“with y/n, eunbi,” her mother says, her eyes holding the most blatant sympathy she’s ever seen from the woman.

eunbi doesn’t understand what she’s saying for a moment, only hearing her father growl her mother’s name lowly as she turns her full attention to the women in front of her. 

“he’s been having an affair with y/n,” she tells the girl gently, all kinds of ulterior motives in her snide gaze and faux tone - it’s like she doesn’t even care watching the girl’s face fall, eyes staring wide in disbelief before finally meeting her fathes.

she’s just so consumed by having the power that comes with ruining things. destroying relationships and friendships and looking like the innocent victim who’s been so wrongfully treated and fooled.

but because eunbi knows this woman too well, has been disappointed and hurt by this woman more than she cares to admit, she doesn’t allow herself to trust her. 

“you’re fucking nuts, mom. how could you make something like this up? are you sick?”

“i’m not,” the woman snaps, shaking her head as she looks to her husband who’s watching the scene unfold. “i had suspicions for weeks until i saw them in cancun. he paid her tuition, eunbi. that’s how it all started.”

“no. the-the college gave her her scholarship back,” eunbi says, shaking her head in disbelief; she’s never seen her look at her with such sympathy and pity, it just pisses her off even more.

she looks to seonghwa who’s watching the two women carefully, a pained expression on his face as he watches his adult daughter cower away from them.

“she’s lying, right, dad? she’s... she’s gotta be fucking crazy.”

he bites the inside of his cheek as tears burn the back of his eyes, the immense amount of guilt and sorrow nearly crushing his chest. 

“eunbi...”

“she’s lying, right?” the girl repeats, her voice raising the same time it breaks. she walks closer to look up at her father, growing more and more nauseous by the second. 

why isn’t he saying anything? why isn’t he denying this or telling her to stop spewing this nonsense?

“i paid y/n’s tuition,” he admits, the lump in his throat making his words tight and strained. “i.. i wanted her to graduate on time and not risk losing her education. so you guys could celebrate together and-”

“what about the affair?” she asks, the word affair and y/n in the same sentence making her stomach swoop with anxiety. “i... why is she saying that? it’s such a weird thing to say.”

the silence that lingers in the cold, white mansion is all the confirmation eunbi needs to know her mother isn’t lying. 

that the guilt on her father’s face isn’t from keeping this tuition payment a secret and that the disgust on her mother’s face isn’t because of the red wine staining the marble.

“dad... what... what the-”

“eunbi, you need to know that we-”

“is this a fucking joke?” she yelps, her eyes wide and tears breaking through as she rips herself away from him. “please, please for the love of god, tell me this a joke. because it’s not funny. it’s not funny in the slightest and i’m about to-”

“i’m sorry, eunbi,” seonghwa mumbles brokenly, shaking his head as he looks at his daughter with the upmost concern in his eyes. “it was never meant to hurt you. i... it was sudden and unexpected but something that just happene-”

“oh, my god,” she whimpers out, her breathy exhales and burning tears causing her vision to blur. “oh, my god, oh, my god, oh, my god.”

seonghwa can only watch in complete devastation and helplessness as he watches his daughter pace around the room, tears rolling down her cheeks and her body shaking until she’s looking at him with the most broken expression. 

“eunbi, please, it wasn’t something we planned on-”

“i have to go,” she blurts out, shaking her head as she heads straight toward the door.

she needs fresh air on her face and the sun on her skin, something to remind her and ground her that she’s actually awake in real time and not in a dream or lifetime movie. 

“no, bi, please let me just tell you-”

“i don’t wanna hear about how you started sleeping with my friend!” she screams, whipping around to look at her dad with tears full of hate. 

“what... what the fuck is wrong with you! she’s my best friend, dad, one of my best and only friends,” she cries, shaking her head as the panic starts to sit and grow in her chest.

“how could you both do this to me?”

seonghwa doesn’t know what to say so he doesn’t say anything, nothing he could say able to make up for the current situation as it is; nothing is gonna make it sound right or okay or easy for her in this moment, his tearful, sorrowful eyes the only thing able to convey his words.

but it doesn’t help his daughter in the slightest.

because he still cheated on her mom, has been sleeping with her friend and doesn’t look the slightest bit regretful despite the tears and sorrow in his eyes.

eunbi came in like a storm as you sat on the couch of your apartment, all the anxiety and dread in your stomach heightening the moment you took in her appearance.

hair a mess, eyeliner smeared under her eyes and looking at you with such a pained expression, you knew mrs. park had told her.

“is it true?”

you press your lips together so you don’t cry at her words, her small figure and wet eyes staring you down until she’s over to you in a second. 

“is it true?” she asks again, her voice louder and harsher as she looks over you with a hardness you’ve never seen before. 

you can’t bring yourself to confirm or deny what you both know is true, looking at eunbi with tears blurring your eyes. 

“the school didn’t give you your scholarship back, did they?” she asks, shaking her head as she looks at you, someone she thought she knew more than anyone in her life, like a complete stranger in her house. 

“my dad paid for it,” she confirms, her words wet and shaking as she suppresses the urge to scream. “my dad paid for it and then you started seeing each other.”

“it wasn’t like that.”

“then what the fuck was it like!” eunbi screams, tears streaming down her face that makes an ugly, wretched sob leave your mouth. 

she bites the inside of her cheek as she watches you completely start to break down in front of her, tears streaming down your face and your head shaking as you stare at you best friend in disbelief. 

your double life has completely gone and blown up in your face, showing all the damage that’s been done, and still to come, standing right in front of you.

“i love him, eunbi,” you whimper out, biting the inside of your cheek as you look at the girl raging and crying before you - it’s the only thing yuo can think to say in this moment. 

“i know how crazy and wrong that probably sounds to you but you have to believe me. i really do love hi-”

and courtesy to the park women for each hitting different sides of your face today, eunbi’s hand immediately reaching out to loudly slap your cheek with her shaking hand. 

“get out.”

“eunbi if you would just let me-”

“get out!” 

her shrill voice breaks as her tears resurface again, shaking her head in utter disbelief before collapsing into the chair behind her. wracking her hands over her face and through her hair, still trying to come to terms with what kind of dramatic soap opera her life has turned into.

never in her life did she think she’d have to worry about this.

her father cheating? maybe. she’s seen for years how unhappy her parents were. 

but that’d he cheat with one of her friends? one of her closest and, really, only best friend’s who’s been in her life for four years now? who she thought was gonna be her best friend for life, who would never sneak around or lie to her or sleep with her fucking father.

“eunbi, please just give me five minutes to-”

“i could give you my entire fucking existence to let you explain why you did this, y/n, and it still woudn’t make sense to me,” she spits, her head snapping up toward you with disgust and sadness in her eyes. 

“i just... how could you fucking do this to me? my father? my married father?” she yelps, the more she verbalizes and thinks about it the worse it seems to become. 

“you’re... you’re supposed to be my best friend, y/n. i thought we were best friends.”

“we are, eunbi, we are,” you insist, not really having anyone to call a friend in your life before you met her. “you know you’re like the only friend i have ever ha-”

“then why did you do this?” she cries, the anger and frustration seeping into an utter brokenness. 

“h-how long has this be happening?” she asks after a few tense seconds. ”how much have you been lying to me? and when have you been seeing him? i just... how in the fuck did you think this was gonna be okay?”

you press your lips together so you don’t let out a sob, only able to stare at her pathetically with sorrow in your eyes. 

“i met with him when i found out he paid my tuition,” you tell her when the silence becomes too much, your voice wobbly and wet as she stares at you blankly. 

“and then.... that night we went out and you slept at jiwoon’s, i called him. drunk. and he picked me up.”

“so that night everything started?” eunbi snaps, remembering how much she didn’t wanna leave you that night. 

“i... the next morning. he came over to check up on me and i... we kissed.”

a broken, almost crazed laugh as she hears those words leave your mouth, standing up to pace around with all her nervous, baffled, borderline unstable energy. 

“you kissed. you kissed!” she laughs out, her brain attempting to soak in all of this delusional information. “you kissed my fucking father!”

you don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, watching as eunbi bounces from angry to sad to broken to completely outraged. she doesn’t know which emotion she’s feeling strongest right now and you really can’t blame her.

you can’t even begin to imagine how betrayed she feels right now. 

“how long did you want him?” she grunts out, an underlying feeling of disgust in her tone. “were you only friends with me the whole time to get to him? when did all of this start?”

“jesus christ, eunbi, of course not!” you cry out, an undeserved pang of hurt panging in your chest. “i never ever looked at your dad like that. i... thought he was nice. and handsome. but i never ever imagined that this would’ve happened.”

“well that makes two of us,” she snaps, her eyes narrowed and watching as she looks at you. 

“i told you how much it bothered me when people would say stuff about my dad. how it’s all anyone ever fucking said to me, even in high school. how i didn’t know if they wanted to be friends with me for the money or him. but they never cared about me.”

“eunbi, that’s not it. please, that’s not it at all. it... it wasn’t even supposed to happen,” you tell her honestly, thinking forever that the thoughts of mr park were just gonna stay in your head unknown forever. 

“it just did and before we knew it, it had gotten out of control. i never wanted to hurt you. i- i just-” your voice low and breaking off as words stay stuck in your throat. 

“well you did,” eunbi snaps after a few seconds of silence. “you did hurt me. and lie to me. and i can’t even fucking look at you right now. you picked my father over me, y/n, how could i not feel hu-”

“no i didn’t,” you whimper out uncontrollably, shaking your head as you make your way over to the girl. 

“you’re my best friend, eunbi, one of my only best friends and i feel so fucking  guilty. i hated lying to you and not.. being honest about where i was going or what was i doing. but i never wanted to hurt you. i never wanted you think that i loved seonghwa more than our-”

“seonghwa. seonghwa,” she laughs out manically, the casual, nonchalant way in which you say her father’s name completely jarring.

you swallow the lump in your throat when you see she’s still angry and hurt, the pain so palpable in her eyes, it just makes the lump grow even larger.

“you picked my father over me the second you decided to start seeing him,” she tells you, her voice low and full of thick emotion as she makes her way over you. 

“you have been lying to me for months, y/n, with absolutely no fucking consideration for how much this would effect me or our friendship. you... you knew we could never be the same and you still stayed with him. you still stayed with my father and lied to me the entire time.”

“i love him, eunbi,” you cry out again, tears hot and burning your eyes as that’s the only conclusion you can come back to.

you love him and he loves you and it’s a feeling you’ve never gotten to feel before. 

eunbi’s had love all her life so she’s never had the chance to feel unloved, doted on by her father and her friends and jiwoon who would so obviously move thi confusion for her if she asked him to. 

“i know it doesn’t seem like a good enough reason but i really do-”

“then go to him. go to my father,” she snaps, the heavy feeling deep within her chest and stomach one she can’t handle anymore. “because i don’t ever wanna see you again.”

you call after her but she only slams the bedroom door without another glance back, your body collapsing down onto the couch as you silently sob into your hands. 

sob because you knew this was gonna happen and it played out exactly as you feared - eunbi hates you, you look like a terrible friend and, even after all of this destruction and chaos, all you want is seonghwa to take it all away.

“she’s gonna come around, baby,” seonghwa hums gently, his hand running up and down your back as you lay face down on the bed.

he went right to his office when he got a tearful call from you a few hours ago, your broken mumbles and cries telling him you had to leave the apartment and had nowhere to go. 

he gave you the code for the elevator and door before telling you to go up. that’d he’d be home to you shortly and that everything’s gonna be okay. that you’d always have somewhere to go as far as he was concerned. 

“no she won’t,” you mutter into the pillow, the only thing keeping you awake the pressure of his hand on your skin and the immense, crushing guilt in your chest. 

“she hates me and i can’t blame her. she’s never gonna talk to me again.”

he lets out a sigh as he leans his body over yours, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before forcing you on your back. you look up at him in a way that causes his heart to sink, sad puffy eyes and the deepest frown, he just wishes he could kiss it off your face. 

“she will,” he promises softly, his own guilt surfacing as he recalls his daughter’s crestfallen expression and shocked cries. 

“it might take her some time,” he acknowledges, his finger tracing your lips gently as he looks over your face. 

“but you two are best friends. everything will work itself out and you’ll be able to get past this. i... i probably have some of our relationship to repair too.”

you let out a sigh as you take in his words, looking at him with a pout as you rest your head on his arm. both of you taking slow, calming breaths after the absolute nightmare that was today. 

it felt like the longest day in history.

it felt like all you two needed was to fall into the soft, warm bed and a good night’s sleep together. away from all the worry and guilt and fear, with seonghwa’s arms around your waist and your head resting on his chest. 

but you can’t help but think over his words from a few moments ago, how you both have relationships to repair and amends to make. 

how you two knew you were acting selfishly, put your own interests above the ones of the people you claim love, and still continued to recklessly do it. 

was eunbi right? was starting this relationship with her father, even merely considering this relationship with him in the first place, the moment you picked him over her? 

the moment you actually picked a boy, a man, over your best friend and friendship?

“this wasn’t a mistake, right?” you ask softly, your fingers toying with his as you rest on his chest in the dark room. 

he’s breathing softly under your ear, the gentle beat of his heart under your ear and his familiar scent wrapped around your body.

he looks down at you in confusion, only the faint light from the candle you lit portraying his handsome but exhausted face.

“what do you mean?” he mumbles, touching your chin gently so you can look up at him.

“i mean... we both hurt eunbi and yet, we’re still here. we knew it was gonna hurt her this whole time and we still did it,” you tell him, more so thinking and talking aloud than asking him for real. “was it wrong to be this selfish?”

seonghwa thinks over your words for a few silent seconds, giving himself truly time to think about it before he immediately goes for his response; because, if you said this yesterday, it’d be easy for him to say absolutely not. 

that you two don’t owe anything or an explanation to anyone about your relationship and how you feel.

but watching his daughter break down today, seeing the look in her eye and the utter confusion and betrayal in them acted as somewhat of a wake up call. even seeing how much it effected you, not only today but this whole time, finally made him realize just how selfish it really was.

how hurt and betrayed and shocking this could be for his daughter, knowing her father and her best friend have found an unsuspecting, forbidden love with one another.

but it’s a love that’s genuine and strong. a love that makes him the happiest he’s felt in his life and unable to make him say anything about it could’ve been a mistake. 

“no,” seonghwa answers with finality, smiling softly at you as he shakes his head. “at least, i don’t think so. i mean, sure, we could’ve gone about it a different way, but i couldn’t ever think it was mistake.”

he watches your eyes gloss over and he doesn’t think he can take it if you cry anymore today, pressing a soft chaste kiss to your lips. 

“i just love you too much, baby, even if i am an old, washed up man compared to you.”

you let out a soft giggle as you smack his chest lightly, burying your face in his chest as you move yourself closer to him. 

you can feel his smile against your head as he presses his lips to your hair, arms running up and down your arms so soothingly, it could lull you to sleep in minutes.

“i love you too,” you confess sweetly, smiling softly despite the heaviness in your eyes. 

his hands continue to run through your hair gently and soothingly, your eyes threatening to close and body slacking when he speaks up again a few moments later. 

“i’m gonna file for divorce tomorrow.”

you can feel how wide your eyes grow as you pop up to look at him, a smile pulling at his lips as he rests his down on he pillow.

“w-what? is... is she gonna allow that?”

“doesn’t matter,” seonghwa mumbles, already informing his lawyer today about it. “it’s what i want. it’s what i’ve wanted for years. it’s about time i finally do it.”

and while a part of you is relieved for him, happy he’s finally getting away from her and will able to be genuinely happy, another part of you is still fearful of tearing apart the park family.

that if there’s more a storm coming after this one, you’re not sure how the hell you’re gonna get through it again. 

it took seonghwa a little over a week to move all of his stuff out of the house, bring his clothes and furniture and all the belongings he did have to his tentative residence in his office building. 

that’s when he told mrs. park about the divorce proceedings, simply telling her to expect the papers in the mail and that their lawyers would be in touch.

he waned to be the one to tell eunbi, calling her one sunday afternoon and asking her to meet him for lunch; he could tell she was hesitant but he eventually persuaded her, using her favorite restaurant with delicious cheesecake to his advantage. 

there was an awkward silence for all of ten minutes, eunbi looking at her father with her head cocked to the side - she knew she’d have to see him eventually.

“so... you’re finally divorcing mom?”

seonghwa licks over his lips anxiously as he nods his head, looking at his daughter who’s facial expression he can’t quite read.

“good. about time,” she quips, taking a sip from her drink as she meets her fathers’s gaze head on. “probably could’ve done that without sleeping with my best friend but to each their own.”

“eunbi,” seonghwa groans, the waiter interrupting with an apprehensive look on his face.

“oh no, you heard me correct sir,” eunbi nods, throwing a sarcastic look at the uncomfortable, overworked boy. 

“crazy shit, right? i’m still dealing with the five stages of grief, absolutely in the bargaining stage at the moment, so please... spare me an extra breadstick with my meal.”

“bi...” seonghwa groans lowly, looking at the waiter and having the gal to look, at least, a little bashful. he couldn’t order any faster than the speed at which the boy took off, his eyes swarming with defeat as he looks at his daughter. 

“i deserved that.”

“no shit,” eunbi says, her head cocked to the side challengingly. 

it’s only been a week since she found out about... all of this and she’s not entirely sure how she’s dealing with. 

something tells her there wasn’t a readily available support group for women who found out their father and best friend were sleeping together, but if so, she desperately needs their assistance.

because it felt crazy, absolutely fucking crazy to her, that, despite everything, despite how mad and angry and depressed she was over this, she still misses you. 

she still met with her father today in hopes to not only hear his side of the story, not trusting her mother’s presence at the initial...reveal but also wanting to know how you’re doing - the apartment is lonely without you and jiwoon barely lets her out of sight these days. 

the girl didn’t really know how to feel about this revelation, if she was a pathetic push-over desperate for friends or if, really, maybe she had made a big deal out of the whole thing.

“you didn’t make a big deal out of anything, eunbi, it was wrong, and terrible for you to find out that way,” seonghwa says, sympathy in his eyes as his low, warm voice addresses his daughter. 

“but you have to know i never intended to hurt you. i... it was such a hard situation to be in, eunbi. i don’t really think i can say anything to make it seem okay.”

she’s not sure what questions she wants to asks, or, really, what answers she wants to hear but she knows she needs... something. anything to make this absurd situation less weird than it already is. 

“did you always... like her?” she winces, feeling incredibly fucking weird for having this conversation with her father.

“i know you were never happy with mom and i understand that. shit, i don’t even blame you for cheating but... y/n? someone who was my friend?”

“i love her, eunbi,” he says, a humorless, defeated laugh leaving his mouth as he thinks that’s the only possible thing he can say and justify. 

“i know that might be weird for you to hear, and maybe you don’t even wanna hear that, but i really do love her,” he says, a knot in his throat at this risk of further tarnishing his relationship with his daughter. 

“she makes me happier than i thought i could ever be. happier than i’ve been in a while.”

she lets out a sigh as she feels something pulling deep within her chest, cursing herself right in this moment for being such a stupid, sappy romantic at heart - because she knows if anyone deserves to feel loved and happy, it’s her father. 

the man who’s done everything and anything for her to give her the life she has today. 

“you both make me sick,” eunbi says, his face dropping and heart breaking in his chest before a look of disbelief, opposed to disgust, crosses her. “she said the same shit. the first thing she said before i slapped her in the face.”

“you slapped y/n?” seonghwa asks, not being able to help the low, accusatory tone in his voice - you didn’t tell him that. 

“yes, dad, i did,” eunbi says, her voice unapologetic honest and candid. “i found out she was lying about an affair with my father. excuse me for being caught off guard.”

“you and your mom in one day,” seonghwa mumbles, guilt bubbling in his chest as he thinks about how much you had to endure because of him.

“mom slapped her too? when?” eunbi suddenly asks, a fierce protectiveness in him so similiar to his just a few seconds ago - he has to desperately bite back the smile on her face. 

“after she followed her back to the apartment. she was staked outside my office.”

“crazy bitch,” eunbi mutters, not surprised that her mother hasn’t tried contact her once since... the incident back at home. 

“she’s a nutcase, dad i swear. i can’t believe it took you this long to divorce her. i thought for sure by the time i was twelve.”

a part of that causes seonghwa’s lips to pull into a frown, looking over his daughter who takes one look at his pitiful expression and rolls her eyes.

“relax, i’m the sad one here. not you anymore, apparently.” 

it takes everything in him not to laugh, watching as his daughter takes a sip from her drink and apprehensively asks how you are.

“has she been staying with you?”

“yes. at my office apartment,” he tells her honestly, eunbi’s eyebrow quirking every so slightly. 

“is... is she okay?”

and he thinks, all things considered, that you are. you’ve mostly just been going to school and finishing up your finals work, that sad, dreary look in your eye still lingering and making him pull you into him gently. 

“for the most part,” seonghwa answers, his eyes turning soft and gentle at the mention of you. “she misses you.”

“well, that’s interesting since i haven’t gotten one message from her,” eunbi bites back bitterly - it could have something to do with the fact that she blocked you in a fit of rage the night of the fight but that’s neither here nor there.

“she still feels incredibly guilty. and upset,” seonghwa says, the words you tell him every night ringing over in his head like clockwork. “she thinks you never wanna talk to her again.”

“good. i wanna make her sweat it out.”

he can’t quite gauge his daughter’s facial expression and tone, looking over eunbi who lets out a sigh as her face turns serious. 

“i’m gonna talk to her again,” she clarifies, something she talks about with jiwoon on a nightly basis. “i just... i need more time. i’m not at stage five yet. i’m still bargaining. heavily.”

a soft smile crosses seonghwa’s face as he looks at his daughter, heart twinging in his chest at the way she’s handling this; he always knew his daughter had a heart of gold despite her more... abrasive ways of communicating. 

“and that’s okay,” seonghwa acknowledges with a nod of his head. “thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“only cause you’re paying,” she bites back, eyeing the terrified waiter who’s making his way toward the table. “now the next time you wanna have an affair, may i suggest picking someone who’s a little closer to your age?”

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth as seonghwa recounts his lunch with eunbi earlier today, telling you about how flustered and disgusted the waiter looked for the remainder of his time there.

“i can never set foot in there again,” the man grumbles, letting out a whine as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “i think he’d spit in my food right in front of me.”

you smile softly at his words, turning in his hold to press a soft kiss to his cheek. 

“i’m happy she met with you,” you tell him sweetly, a bittersweet kind of feeling bubbling inside you. “it would’ve been too sad if you guys weren’t the same because of this.”

because above all else, you know how important eunbi’s relationship with her father is. 

he can hear the sad tone in your voice, a frown on his face as he pulls you toward the couch. you allow him to guide you with a small smile on your face, sitting down before laying out your body.

you rest in your head in his lap with a content sigh, his hands in your hair and your tired eyes immediately closing. he’s the warmth and comfort you’ve especially needed within this past week, the stress and guilt of everything form betraying eunbi to finishing up your finals.

you couldn’t have pictured this being your life just two weeks before graduation; not on speaking terms with eunbi, living away from the apartment with her father and feeling even more nervous and unsure about the future.

it’s sick that you’re more secure in your fate about a photography degree and traveling the world than your relationship with your best friend. 

“she’s gonna come around,” seonghwa promises, able tot ell even with your eyes closed, that your mind is racing. “she just needs more time. you’re both hurting and unsure right now.”

your eyes pop open as you look up at seonghwa, lips pulled in a pout that he’s praying doesn’t remain permanent. 

“you’re her father, she has to forgive you,” you mumble, the rationale you’ve been saying in your head since the first big blow out. “but... i was supposed to be her best friend. i shouldn’t have been lying to her and sneaking around.”

“something tells me she’s gonna understand,” seonghwa promises gently, his voice that sweet, soft-spoken tone that always makes you feel better. 

“she’s not gonna make it easy, to earn back her forgiveness. but it’s gonna be okay, baby. she’s gonna come around and it’ll be okay. i believe that.”

you let out a sigh as you turn into his stomach, a small smile covering your face when he intertwines your hand with his. 

“i hope you’re right,” you mumble, tired eyes threatening to droop in his lap.

“of course i’m right,” he mutters back, hearing the smile on his face as his fingers run through your hair.

“why? because you’re old and wise?” you smirk against him, holding back a tired giggle when he flicks your nose lightly. 

“exactly,” he hums lowly, leaning down to peck your lips lightly. 

he watches with soft eyes and a content feeling in chest despite the chaos that, in a few weeks time, everything will be okay and he’ll finally get to see you happy again.

it was only a few days before graduation, prepping in the form of trying on your cap and gown and preparing a dress, when you heard the front door to seonghwa’s apartment open.

he had just left to go back down after lunch, indulging in chick fil a and a blowjob full of spit, as you finish cleaning up the dishes. you considered this a form of rent, insisting to your older boyfriend you do something around this small space if he refuses to let you pay rent.  

your eyebrows pull together as you turn the water off, shaking excess water off the plate as you put it in the dish rack beside you. 

“you’re back already? that was so...”

your words fall when you see not seonghwa in the entryway but eunbi, her eyebrow quirked with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“nice place,” she comments, looking around the small but clean apartment space. “i’ve only been here a few times.”

you don’t know if you’re more shocked by her presence or the fact that she’s talking to you, standing there as you stare blankly at her. you hear a scoff leave her mouth a few seconds later, face and body tensing as you’re prepared for a verbal assault. 

“get over here before i slap you again so we can talk.”

you bite down on your lip so you don’t laugh despite the entirety of this situation, taking slow unsure steps until you’re both sitting on opposite ends. you’re curled up defensively, with your arms wrapped around your legs as you look at your best friend skeptically. 

there’s a few moments of lingering silence, the two of you sitting with your thoughts and anxieties and premonitions until eunbi’s speaking again. 

“jiwoon is sick of me moping around so he said i should talk to you” she begins, looking at you with the upmost honesty in her eyes. “try to understand and hear you out about.... everything.”

you bite down on your lip as you nod your head, doing everything in you to remain calm and keep your tears at bay. 

“i never should’ve lied to you,” you blurt out, that being the first and foremost thing you want to cover. “i... i don’t know how i necessarily would’ve broken this news to you, but i... i shouldn’t have been so sneaky and deceptive.”

you look up to see her eyes watching you, face so blank and expressionless you wonder when the hell she got so good at hiding her emotions. 

if she was always so good at it or if she just never had to mask herself around you before.

“you’re right, you shouldn’t have,” eunbi admits, her hard, blank staring causing you to frown.

“i just didn’t want you to hate me,” you blurt out honestly, seeing now you did way more harm than good in hoping to keep that wish from coming true. 

“i didn’t want us to change or for you to think, this whole time, i was secretly pining over your dad. because that wasn’t it. i swear to god, eunbi, i never-”

“i believe you,” she says quietly, knowing in her heart, from the beginning, that that’s not why you were friends with her. it might’ve been a little dramatic of her to accuse of that, putting herself in a real life soap opera at that very moment. 

“it’s just.. the lying is what hurt me. or maybe it was just the shock of the situation in general. because i never thought in a million years that my dad and one of my friends would date. like, ever.”

you nod your head in understanding, completely thinking it’s a fair assumption to believe something like that. 

the dynamic is unusual, taboo even, but you also think it’s something no one could predict happening. falling into a relationship that’s forbidden but feels so right, even when you know knowing it’ll hurt and destroy everyone in its path.

unless, of course, they have someone as forgiving and compassionate as eunbi. who’s able to see that, despite her own worries and confusions and betrayal, the two people she cares most about in the world are happy.

and they just so happen to be happiest when together, no matter how fucking odd. 

“that’s really what i comes down to, though,” eunbi explains, your eyes threatening to water as you hear her out.

“i... i think it’ll take some time for us to, like, really rebuild our friendship. and establish trust and all of that... but i just want you happy, y/n. and i want my dad happy. that’s what i’ve been thinking the most lately.”

the girl’s reflected a lot on her life growing up within these past few weeks, seeing her father fake a smile and laugh and deal with the way her mother had absolutely drained the life and soul out of him.

meeting you and remembering how you seemed so lonely and jaded, slowly but surely opening up to her about your parents and the sinking feeling of having no one in your life. 

“sometimes it feels like i have no,” you told her one night, a deep heart to heart as you prepare for your finals during sophomore year. 

your second year of college is when you and eunbi really grew close, spending more and more time together and opening up about all your past traumas and feelings. 

“like if something good happens to me, or bad happens to me, or if i just wanna share something with someone for the sake of sharing, i don’t know if i could think of one person to call.”

because your family swore you off, you grew out of touch with your friends after graduation and any and all boys you went on casual dates with had left the moment you didn’t wanna put out. 

eunbi felt her heart ache in that moment, swearing to herself that, no matter what happens, she’d never break her promise to you. 

“well that’s kind of rude because you have me now,” she jokes, nudging your arm playfully before her eyes turn soft and sympathetic. 

“anything you want to share, or not share with me, is gonna be okay with me. just know that i’m, officially, your college roommate turned bff and in turn, that means you’re always gonna have someone in your life.”

and if that means now that you also have her own father in your life to rely on, find a mutual happiness in and give him the love he’s always so desperately craved, then so be it.

no matter how fucking weird and wrong and strange it seems - she’s not gonna be the reason for anyone being depressed and miserable, especially people she loves the most in this world.

“thank you, bi,” you mumble, words wobbly and wet as you let the nickname easily slip off your tongue. you can’t even begin to comprehend eunbi’s empathy and forgiveness, so overwhelmed as tears prick your eyes.

she looks taken aback for a second, a slightly pained but also slightly relieved expression crossing her face as she nods her head. 

“you’re welcome, bitch,” she says playfully, poking you in the arm lightheartedly. it’s a little awkward and and strange and the laughs that leave your mouth don’t sound as natural as before but you know that will all heal with time. 

there’s a silence lingering in the air that makes you pop your knuckles nervously, eunbi looking over you with a curious expression on her pretty face. 

“so like.... does this mean i have to call you mom now? i don’t know how i feel about that.”

“oh, my god, eunbi,” you can’t help but chuckle out, the two of you bursting out into laughter at the mere ida.

it seemed to be the push you both needed to slowly mend your relationship that night, filling each other in on the past weeks of your lives concerning graduation, finals and plans for the future. 

“jiwoon booked us a trip because he thought i was severely depressed,” she tells you, shrugging her shoulders as she takes a sip of wine. “we’re gonna leave next thursday. a one way ticket to be very eat, pray, love.”

“the way you wanted,” you giggle out, looking over the girl who nods her head with a soft smile. 

“what about you? any plans?”

you bite the inside of your cheek as you shrug your shoulders, the brunt of your post graduation plans surrounding around eunbi and her own agenda; but a vacation with her would be far too soon after the events of this past month, telling her that you’ll probably start applying for jobs in the summer.

“fuck that, have your boyfriend take you somewhere,” she says with a wink, a smirk forming on her lips at the sheer absurdity of this conversation. “word on the street is he’s loaded. and has a cool daughter.”

“i was thinking the maldives,” seonghwa’s loud voice booms, the two of you not even hearing him enter between your giggles and conversation. 

he couldn’t help the feeling of happiness and relief that flooded through him when he saw you guys sitting on the couch together, all smiles and laughs in a way that reminded him so much of the day you first met. 

“you’ve always wanted to go there, right y/n?”

a smile quirks at your lips as you meet seonghwa’s gaze, the two of you holding such soft looks of affection that are promptly interrupted by eunbi’s gagging.

“okay, yeah. no. stop that. stop that right now,” the girl complains, smacking you on the arm before looking at her father with narrowed eyes. 

“this is weird enough, like really fucking weird, okay, we all know that, but i’m trying for you both. because... i want you two happy and shit but please spare me. how about buying me dinner to celebrate my progress into the fifth and final stage of the grieving process?”

(part 4)

tag list: @mochibabycakes @atinyarmyx1 @middle-of-a-wonshua-sandwich @baekhvuns @bunbaebae @markleeyeosang @inkigayeo @nlost21 @hyunjeansuniverse @cherryeonii @songsoomin @reeateez @biaswreckingfics @yunhoiseyecandy @sophrosyneeeee @uglychildd @happycandynoelle @seolarjk @liqhtiny @maedesculpaeusoubi @revehosh @svt-mangos @hcwurld @ateezappreciation @sanisms @khjssss @yixing-jaehyun @yeosangs-left-ass-cheek @silent-potato @tinyverse-writes @nycol-ie @lovesickhwa @toothlessshiber @ateezinmymind @utopiakys @hyenoir @nari-nim @hoonswrld @jin-neck-shaft @that-one-multi @hwahomie @thiccseokmin @phe2004 @legbouk @seohyunnim-imagines @hyuck-me @vitaminkel-c @lizsvcks @candidupped @ateezas

couldn’t tag: @ateez-after-dark @marksflvr @yunho-bby @arkive78 @se-onghwa @yookihyunie @wooyoponyo @spaghetti-oh-nos 

[earlgreydream]

return.

| bucky x reader | angst | fluff |

bucky drabbles 🥺❤️

anon requested. y/n learning she’s pregnant and girly was pretty excited and counting the days until Bucky comes home... only to learn that 40s Bucky is now “dead” after falling off the train

cw: mentions of death (Bucky’s, but like, he obviously didn’t actually die)

1940’s:

“We’re going to have a little girl, and she’s going to know that her daddy is a soldier and a hero,” you kissed your husband, and his hands rested on your round belly.

“I wish I wasn’t leaving you alone, pregnant.”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re going to fight the good fight,” you smiled, trying not to cry.

“I’ll be home soon.”

“I know.”

present day:

Nothing prepared you for hearing that Bucky died in a train accident. Nothing prepared you for waking up with Steve, decades later, still pregnant. And certainly nothing prepared you for seeing your husband that you thought was dead, killing people on the news. 

Now your daughter, Rebecca, was five, and the two of you lived at Stark’s home in upstate New York. You were a single mom, but Steve was hugely supportive, and around as often as possible. You loved Rebecca with everything inside of you, and it broke your heart that she was growing up without a father.

Seeing the havoc that Bucky wreaked on the news absolutely broke your heart. You wondered if he knew you were alive. It was unlikely, Stark had done a good job of helping you hide. The man who was once your husband was gone, and now you were a potential target of his violence.

“Rebecca, baby, you look so beautiful!” You giggled, braiding flowers into her brown curls. 

“Thanks, mama,” she hugged you before running out to the porch. You followed, and you nearly collapsed when you saw the man walking up your lawn. 

“Rebecca! Come here, love!” You cried, pulling her behind you. Her tiny hands gripped your skirt, hiding in the fabric. Panic shot through your chest, and you felt like you were being torn apart. You wanted to run to James, and risk it being the last thing you ever did, and wanting to run with your daughter.

“Mama, who’s that?!” Rebecca asked, frightened by James in heavy black tactical gear, a metal arm, and an automatic slung over his back. The war criminal, assassin, and international terrorist. 

“Go inside baby, go to your bedroom and shut the door. Go!” You pushed her away and she ran. 

“James...?” You called, your chest heaving as you hyperventilated. 

“Y/N, my love...” he spoke, silver eyes full of pain. He looked genuinely frightened, and you nearly screamed as his hand touched yours. 

“Mama!” 

“No, go inside, Rebecca!” you started to sob, tearing away from Bucky and running to her as she peeked out of the door. You were terrified, and so was she. Bucky’s words had sent you right back to the 1940s, but your daughter’s cry had jerked you back to reality. 

You held the child to your body, standing with your arms around her. Your back was against the wall, and you were shaking as tears rolled down your face. Bucky looked startled, and his eyes were massive as he stared at the two of you. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to hurt you,” James said quietly, and you shook your head violently. 

“I don’t believe you!”

“You know I would never hurt you. I was being controlled and held captive, but I escaped, I’m free. I promise I will not hurt you,” he took the gun off of his back and set it down on the other side of the porch. He dropped to his knees in front of you. 

“Please, can I come inside? SWAT will gun me down if they see me outside.”

“I can’t-”

“Please, Y/N.”

Rebecca was safely asleep in your bedroom with the door shut, and you and James stood in the kitchen. He’d spent hours telling you about Hydra, and everything that had happened. You had his gun, though somehow you doubted if you could stop him, even with it, if he meant to hurt you. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m begging you to believe me.”

“I have to. The alternative... I’d rather die,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands. 

“Is she mine? Rebecca?”

“Rebecca is my baby,” your head jerked up.

James was silent, and you bit your lip, trying to stop the millionth round of tears. 

“I want to believe you, I do, but if you’re lying, it’s not just me. It’s my kid too.”

“You have no reason to trust me, but I promise you I am telling the truth. I want to meet her, Y/N.”

“Sleep on the couch. If we’re all still alive in the morning, I’ll let you meet her. Steve has some normal clothes here you can change into.”

He nodded, and his hand wrapped around your wrist as you went to leave the kitchen. You turned to him, your other hand going to his chest. His dog tags were cold under your fingertips, and you gazed up at him. 

“I’ve loved you this whole time. You’ve kept me alive,” he whispered in the dark.

“I love you, god, I love you more than life,” your voice trembled.

He leaned in and kissed you, hesitant at first. You let yourself kiss him back, tangling your fingers into dark brown hair and kissing the love of your life for the first time in decades. 

You didn’t sleep that night, Rebecca tightly snuggled in your arms. Your eyes were still open when the sun broke over the horizon, hours of tears staining your cheeks. Rebecca stirred in your arms, and you cleaned your face before helping her get up. 

You kissed her head and took her into the living room, carrying her in your arms. You sighed when you saw Bucky was gone but you heard a noise from around the wall. You walked to the kitchen, and saw Bucky well into making pancakes, fresh coffee filling the room with the smell of espresso. 

“I hope it’s alright,” he said quietly, turning off the stove, and you nodded.

“It’s okay,” you answered, carefully setting down your daughter.

“This is Rebecca. My love, this is James. Your father.” 

“Dad? From the pictures? That Uncle Stevie tells me about?” Her small voice asked.

“That’s me. You’re so pretty, Rebecca.” 

Bucky knelt down in front of her, and she blushed, shy around new people. Like her father.

“Do you like pancakes? I made some for you.”

You watched carefully, but you were impressed with how good he was, putting her immediately at ease. You relaxed a bit, even more so when Steve showed up. 

“Uncle Stevie!” Rebecca ran to him when he came in through the door, and he stopped short at the sight of Bucky. You’d warned him, but it didn’t prepare him for the shock of actually seeing him. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” 

[sleeplessinspace]

to the end of the line - engineer/space!mark x afab!reader

for @creat0r-cat

i'll be honest, this was a bit of a challenge but not for the reasons you probably think 😅 but i love a good challenge and it helped snap me out of a block i was in, so thank you! i hope i got the tone you were going for uwu

warning(s): sfw, implied past abuse, slight violence (reader is grabbed)

You don’t take any time to think about it—this is the only option, you refuse to let him go—you yank the warp crystal out of the base of the core and chuck it beyond Mark's head into the yawning chasm above. There’s a beat of silence before the two of you are thrown to the ground from the force of the explosion.

It nearly knocks you unconscious but ever since the loops began, you’ve gotten incredibly resist to such trauma. Instead, you’re more than a little winded, coughing slightly as you start to push yourself up from the floor when a strong hand yanks you to your feet by your elbow and shoves you against the wall.

“What have you done?” The sheer vehemence in your head engineer’s voice scares you a little but you didn’t get this far as a captain by buckling under pressure. You swallow the lump of discomfort in your throat and lift your chin, looking Mark in the eye.

“You don’t understand, Mark, I—” you start to say and flinch back when he slams his palm into the wall beside your head.

“No, Captain, you don’t understand. That was our last chance to fix things and now it’s gone. You ruined everything!”

“I—!”

He grabs your arm and you let out a noise of fear that he ignores as painful memories start to make their presence known in the back of your mind. “Do you have any idea how much time I spent working to build this thing, Captain? An eternity! Hundreds of thousands of years of progress fucking ruined because of you!”

“M-Mark, please…”

You’re not fully aware of it—and neither is he in the midst of his anger—but you’ve started to cry beneath your helmet, your breathing starting to pick up as you shove your shoulders as far back into the wall as you can manage.

“I need to get back and fix it, because if I'm not back there to do it then—then…”

Mark shakes you once at the start of his rant and the motion is enough to remind of you of a memory you’d wished stayed buried—the yelling would follow you into your sleep, curled up in a ball on the couch because he’s locked you out of your shared bedroom again, your body stinging from pains you’d have to hide before you left for training in the morning—and you end up choking out a cry, recoiling away from him. You’d been there before, by the void, were you uncomfortably familiar with it and you just didn’t want to end up hurt again. You don’t see Mark falter at this reaction, but you do see his feet take a step away from you, his hold loosening in his confusion and you take that moment to get away.

“Captain, what…?”

You don’t hear it. You don't hear Mark's slow realization that they must be safe now, that you did the right thing by throwing the crystal into the warp core. The only focus on your mind is getting to a spot that’s safe and that ends with you tucked into a corner of the room, hugging your knees to your chest as you sit half hidden behind a small panel of servers. You focus on trying to calm your breathing, heart pounding heavy in your ears and after failing to do that for a minute, you reach up and rip your helmet off, your tears dripping down onto the dark fabric of your flight suit. All you can think about is his hands on you, the way he ignored your pleas and you’re almost hyperventilating when there’s the shift of boots against the floor.

When you gasp in fear, Mark makes a low shushing noise, taking a step back where you can see it before crouching down and reaching for you. “Pl-please don't,” and you whimper out your ex’s name and suddenly the pieces are clicking together for him now.

What’s worse is that he recognizes the name, a member from the training committee from the Invincible II’s ground control back home on Earth and Mark isn’t ashamed of the anger he feels on your behalf, ten times the level he felt before—before he thought you had betrayed him and knowingly damned the universe, but he’s over it now knowing that they’re relatively safe.

“Can you take a few deep breaths for me, Captain?” Mark instructs softly and feels a flicker of happiness when you comply, if a bit slowly. “That’s good… do you remember where we are?”

You frown a little before it all comes back to you in a rush, your mind cleared up by taking a moment to breathe.

“The Invincible II, I—Mark, gods, I'm—!” It comes back to you in a rush and you go to apologize but he shakes his head, scooting a little closer.

There’s a noise both of you are ignoring in the distance—it almost sounds like glass s̶h̷a̸t̷t̵e̴r̷i̵n̸g̴.

“No, Captain. I was… I was wrong, alright? It’s not your fault. It was never your fault, okay?” He looks you in your eyes then, desperate for you to understand he means what he's saying and you nod slowly. He holds out a hand and you hesitate to take it, but Mark’s learned a little something about patience in this whole thing—he wishes he could say that the eternity thing was an exaggeration, but the sheer fatigue in his bones, the memories of millions of loops burned into his brain, tells him otherwise. Once you take his hand, his fingers curling around your own, you start to breathe a little easier.

The noise is getting l̴͍̈́o̶̙͌ũ̸͙d̷̙͝ė̷̫r̵̺̄...

C̵̟̱̈l̵͚̇̌ö̷͖͙́s̸͈̯̅ė̴̡̺̳̾̽ŕ̵̗̻̔͂…

“I'm s-sorry, anyway,” you say, staring down at your linked hands as the universe begins to c̷͙̒r̶͇̓ả̵ͅč̶̭k̷̖̏ into pieces around you. “For leaving you to do it alone.”

Mark gives you a wry smile and squeezes your hand softly.

“You were by my side nearly every time, Cap. If I was alone, it was because of my own stupid choices. But I won’t let it happen again. I'm sticking by your side until the end of it all.”

And he does.

As the universe stutters to a halt, as billions of timelines and dimensions are rewritten and the Invincible II breaks into dust around the two of you, Mark stays by your side.

He doesn’t let go of your hand.

[kywaslost]

Levi Comforts You After a Nightmare

Warnings: nightmares

Levi always seemed cold and heartless, but there was a side of him no one really got to see. The only time anyone got to see this side of him was when they were balancing on the line of life and death.

Levi never liked it when people saw him so vulnerable and caring because he always thought it would ruin his reputation and people would stop respecting him. But there are very very rare occasions when Levi pulls out his caring and compassionate side to a cadet who was not dying. Tonight just so happened to be one of those nights.

The short corporal noticed her absence almost immediately. It wasn’t because he saw that Y/N’s seat was empty at the table her friends sat at. It wasn’t even because he asked around for her. It was simple, really. On his way to the mess hall he heard Mikasa, Eren, and Armin talking about her condition. 

“She hasn’t left her room since chores,” Armin said to his friends. “I’m really worried about her.”

“Do you know what’s wrong Mikasa?” Eren asked the female. It made sense; Mikasa did share a cabin with the girl in question. Mikasa looked between her two friends before answering.

“She’s just overworking herself,” Mikasa answered. “More than she should, if I’m honest. But I haven’t seen her any more today than the both of you have. She won’t let us anywhere near her and when we try to talk to her, she doesn’t answer.” Levi had heard enough. Once he was done eating, he would go make sure Y/N wasn’t dead.

She didn’t come to dinner and the more Levi thought about it, she hadn’t come down for lunch either. He made his way to the female cabin, a small piece of bread tucked away in his hand. He knocked on the door loudly.

“Cadet L/N,” he called through the door. “May I come in?” There was no response. Frustrated, Levi threw open the door. “When I call for you Cadet you better---” Levi started to scold before he cut himself off. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Y/N lay on the bed in the corner of the room, whimpering softly. As he got closer, Levi could see tear stains across her face. “Cadet?” He gently placed the piece of bread on the small rotting bookshelf beside the bed before pulling a chair away from a nearby desk. Levi sat down in the chair beside Y/N’s bed, watching her carefully. He knew that you should never wake someone from a nightmare because that could do more harm than good. So instead of waking the girl up he took her hand and held it gently.

As Levi waited for Y/N’s nightmare to pass, it only grew worse. She started to mumble inaudible words and move around. She started to cry harder and her breathing began to go irregular. Out of nowhere Y/N screamed, high pitched voice piercing the silence of the night. Levi jumped out of his seat at the noise then tried to get the girl to calm down. He pinned down the wrist of the hand he had been holding. She had started to thrash around, posing as a threat to both herself and Levi.

“Cadet!” Levi said sternly. He climbed onto the bed, trying to get over Y/N’s legs. “Wake up!” He managed to straddle her, pinning her wrists down with his hands and keeping her legs still with his knees, digging them into her thighs. “Y/N!”

With a gasp Y/N’s eyes snapped open, fear evident in her eyes. She made eye contact with Levi almost immediately. 

“C-C-Captain,” she choked through her tears. Levi’s eyes softened as he moved off of her legs but he kept his grip on her wrists. 

“Yes,” he said calmly. “It’s me, I’m here now.” He slowly released Y/N and she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. It took him by surprise at first, then he also wrapped his arms around her, holding her steady. He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Breathe Cadet.” Levi ran one hand up and down her back as the other combed through her hair. “You are going to hyperventilate if we don’t get your breathing under control.” Nothing you were trying was able to calm you down. If anything, it made matters worse.

“W-Where’s Petra?” she choked again. “A-And the squad?” Levi’s breath hitched as he very quickly realized what was going on. Levi gripped you tight and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Oh Cadet,” he breathed quietly. “Breathe. You need to breathe.” His attempts failed at calming down Y/N, so Levi gently pulled her head to rest right above his heart, taking large and exaggerated deep breaths. “Breathe with me.”

It took a few moments for Levi to give up, smashing his lips against hers. Breathing out, he forced air into Y/N’s lungs. She gasped before coughing and breathing on her own.

“Captain?!” she exclaimed. Levi wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs, sighing. 

“There you are,” he smiled softly. “You were stuck in a nightmare for a moment. You’re alright now.”

“W-What?” she muttered, confused, Levi pulled her back into a tight hug. She stayed still for a moment before hugging Levi loosely. Silence sat between the two of them for a moment. “Captain?” she questioned quietly into his shoulder. “Why are you here?”

“I overheard your friends talking about how they were worried about you before dinner,” Levi answered. “And then I noticed that you weren’t at dinner or lunch.” He suddenly remembered the piece of bread sitting next to the bed. He slowly leaned forward as not to startle Y/N, gently picking up the piece of bread. “Here.”

She lifted her head to see what was in his hand as he gave the bread to her. “What’s this for?”

“To eat, brat,” he said quietly. He didn’t mean it as an insult and she knew that. “Did you not hear what I just said?” She took the bread and took small bites of it.

“Thank you,” she whispered once she was finished. Levi noticed the confused look on her face and he furrowed his brows.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why am I so shaky?” she questioned, lifting a hand to show Levi how bad it was shakin. He took her hand in his.

“You had a nightmare,” he said softly. “Do you remember what it was about?” She shook her head slowly, looking into Levi’s eyes. He sighed, tightening his grip on her hand.  “It was of the night our squad died.” Y/N’s eyes filled with tears almost immediately. “No, no, don’t cry,” Levi rushed. “There’s no need to cry.”

“How did you know?” she whispered. “About my dream?”

“For a moment after I woke you up you were still out of it. You were asking where Petra and the squad was.” Y/N lowered her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Causing you all of this trouble,” she whispered again. Levi placed a hand under her chin, lifting her face. He could see tears making their way down her face again.

“Don’t ever apologize for something you didn’t have a say in,” he said sternly. “That’s an order, understand?”

“Yes sir.” Levi nodded in approval.

“Good, now come here.” Levi pulled Y/N yet again into another hug. He lifted her up as he adjusted himself, leaning against the wall at the head of the bed. Levi gently placed Y/N on his lap and held her.

“Captain?” she called quietly. 

“Levi.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Levi,” the man corrected.

“Levi,” the word felt foriegn coming from her mouth, “why are you doing this for me? If it were anyone else you would leave them be.”

Levi sighed. “When you are a part of a squadron, you become family. We’ve spent so much time with each other and the rest of the squad that we’ve become a family. Now, it’s just us and family has to stick together.”

Y/N had never heard her corporal be so open with his emotions and thoughts before. It was almost as if she didn’t hear him speak in the first place she was so shocked.

“Get some rest. I’ll leave you be.” Y/N quickly latched on to Levi’s arm as he tried to lace her on the bed. Levi looked at her, confused. “What is it Y/N?”

She looked away. “Please don’t leave.” Her words were nearly inaudible. “I don’t want to sleep alone.” The man’s eyes softened. He knew it would be wrong sleeping with one of his cadets, even if nothing was going on. But the way Y/N looked so distressed, he couldn’t say no.

Levi sighed, “Can you walk?” Y/N stood up slowly, nodding. “Come with me then.” The girl grabbed her green cloak, wrapping it around her body as she followed Levi into the hallway.

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly, jogging to catch up with her captain, now walking beside him.

“To my quarters,” he answered. The two walked in silence until they reached the man’s office. Levi led Y/N through his office into his bedroom. She looked around, taking in her surroundings. The room smelled of lemons and was unbelievably clean. As she looked around the room Levi pulled off his jacket and straps. He then walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants and a tank top. Levi quickly changed as Y/N looked at the books on Levi’s bookshelf.

“Do you like to read, Captain?” Y/N asked quietly, turning to the man.

“I try to read when I have time,” he answered. “Now, lay down.” Levi pulled back the blankets on his bed as she slowly walked over to the bed. Levi got in and pulled her down beside him.  “Now go back to bed. You’re going to need your rest for tomorrow's training.” Y/N pulled the covers up to her chin, looking into Levi’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered, eyes starting to slip shut. Levi smiled softly, pulling the hood off of her head. He also removed the cloak from her and hung it on the bedpost. Sitting up, Levi leaned against the headboard and picked up a book from his nightstand.

After reading for almost an hour Levi decided to try to get some sleep. He preferred to sleep in a chair but for the sake of Y/N he stayed in the bed. He laid flat on his back, closing his eyes. He stayed like that for a few minutes before he felt a weight on his chest. Eyes shooting open, Levi looked down to see a H/C head resting on his chest. He huffed, wrapping his arms around the figure.

“Sleep well, Cadet.”

[ghost-oftheriver]

Parent Guidance Recommended

word count: 3,281

focus characters: Pacifica Northwest, Fiddleford H. McGucket

warnings: child neglect, implications of alcoholism, implications of infidelity, mugging, knives, threatening, generally awful people

summary: On the worst birthday she’s ever had, Pacifica finds herself seeking support from a source she’d least expect; the new owner of the once-Northwest Manor, her own former home.

Pacifica was turning fourteen on the Fourth of July. A perfect birthday. Perfect girl. Perfect family.

Her parents would throw a party. Like any Northwest party, with gorgeous, itchy lace ball gowns and impeccable etiquette, each word in every conversation spoken with flawless flow, with purposeful posture and respect-demanding mannerisms. A perfect party for perfect people, with perfect food prepared.

After claiming her designated ruby-studded chair at the dinner table, she would be shocked when her plate was revealed to her. Deep-fried Roareos. Stacked in a small sweet-powdered delicious heap in front of her, chocolately, cream-filled cookies, dipped in batter and deep-fried to perfection. Sugary. Messy. Pacifica had never had it before. How did her parents know she wanted to try it?

She turned her head to cast a quizzical look to her parents, who’d been watching her, holding each other with loving smiles directed at her. A warm feeling spread inside her like warm butter. She reached for a fork.. but hesitated, and hovered her hand over the plate instead. She casted another glance at her parents to see their reaction. No cold response was elicited so far. In fact, she could have sworn her father nodded in approval.

She delicately picked one of the cookies up with her thumb and forefinger, and raised it to her lips to nibble at it. Her senses were flooded with warm, sweet goodness. Just as amazing as she imagined. She stuffed the rest in her mouth, going so far as to lick her fingers. Her lips were coated with melted cream. She neglected the napkins beside her plate to instead lick the sugar mixture from her lips. Barbaric. But her parents didn’t seem to mind either of the actions. She thought she even heard an amused giggle from her mother.

��Sweetie, would you like your presents now or after you’re finished?” Priscilla— no, this was Mom— asked. Pacifica paused. She had a say? Were they not on a schedule? She supposed if she was given the option, she would love to open gifts while she snacked on the rest of the Roareos.

“Now, please,” the young blond girl responded. On cue, one of the butlers was beside her, placing a neatly-packaged gift box on her lap. A beautiful purple silk ribbon sat on top, holding it together. She couldn’t recall the last time she felt so eager to reveal its contents.

What was inside? Some comfy clothes? Paint, perhaps? A cute animal plush that would contrast the creepy porcelain dolls in her room? The possibilities were endless.

Delightfully, she tugged at it. The box opened. As she peered inside, her excitement dissolved. The warm feeling turned to ice.

The bell. The one her father carried on his person at all times. The one that willed his command in the mansion. The one Pacifica hated. Suddenly Preston was standing over her, slowly picking the bronze item up.

Loving smile gone, replaced with a disapproving, even disgusted scowl. She shrank in her seat.

“Pacifica Elise Northwest,” he boomed. “So it’s true. You’re mingling with the common, ignoble crowds these days.”

“No!” she found herself crying out. “It’s not like that! I have to!”

“Have to what? Work a lowly job as a waitress in that slobbish cesspit? At that- that disgusting, sorry excuse for a dining destination? THAT’S NOT ACCEPTABLE EVER. How can you call yourself a Northwest? How can you call yourself our daughter?”

The very first thought she woke up to was that it was too good to be real.

Tangled in her sheets, warm tears trickling down her cheeks. She sniffled and quickly wiped them away before slipping out of bed.

The house was dark. Silent. The clock on the wall read 7:52. Her parents’ bedroom was empty as she passed. It smelled of wine. They would not be back for a while. Pacifica found herself releasing a sigh, her tension easing a little, even if that meant she’d be spending her birthday alone for the very first time. She leaned against the doorframe and closed her eyes, trying to recall the good part of the dream, trying to revive the taste of the sugary treat, but it was gone. Soured by the unreality of it. All it was doing was making her hungry belly ache.

When checking the refrigerator, cabinets and pantry and coming to the realization that all that was left was a loaf of bread, a half-empty tube of Bringles and a couple dinner kits. No breakfast food. Not even a single egg. Not even leftovers. Something like despair and disappointment blossomed inside her. She would have to eat at the diner again…

She snagged her wallet from the counter only to find her twenty had disappeared, leaving only a couple measly ones and fives and whatever coins were loose inside. She felt the tears building a little again and slapped the wallet shut to try to stifle them. There was a time she had nearly everything, but now after Weirdmaggedon, she couldn’t even trust that her own hard-earned cash wouldn’t be snagged if left around her own greedy birthgivers. Her strength was being sapped by the will not to burst into a sobbing fit. There was enough in there to cover breakfast at work when she got to Greasy’s, at least.

With her belly still growling, she changed out of her nightwear, threw on her apron and a pair of aviators and began the walk to work.

The day was a bright one, sunny and a little breezy. A pleasant temperature. It did not reflect how Pacifica felt. Despite the summer weather, she pulled her scarf over her head, casting shade over her face. The neighborhood streets were mostly void of people, every house gated off. Just because they lost the mansion did not mean the Northwests were living in squalor, but her spending money was strictly monitored. Her parents now enforced that any money she spent, she’d have to earn. A fourteen year old. A child. Just so her birthgivers could ensure a few extra dollars in their account.

Pacifica couldn’t help but feel the fanciness of the neighborhood was almost deceitful. Her own household was a prime example. Her own rumbling tummy was a prime example. She wondered if there were others who lived in these houses that had similar problems as hers. Unlikely here.. however there were definitely others, people who’d been pushed to extremes just to get by.

Whether that was the reason behind why Pacifica soon found herself being followed halfway through the trip, she didn’t know. The feeling of being watched intensified by the minute, and glances into the reflections of shop windows told her there was a person. They refused to let up for at least a couple of blocks, the likelihood that they were just going the same direction by chance was steadily decreasing. They probably saw her leaving the wealthier neighborhood. The young girl picked up her pace. It did her no good.

The next moments were a blur. Her arm was snatched. When she struggled, a slice put a stop to it. Her arm began to bleed. Something sharp pressed to her throat, stiffening every muscle in her body. Vulgar language was hurled at her, demanding cooperation before her purse was yanked from her shoulder, and she was thrown to the curb. She was left winded, bruised, panicked and hyperventilating. She struggled for her breath back.

Mugged. She’d been mugged for the few measly dollars she had on her. And the fact that her first thought after all that was concern for what her parents would think that she let those precious dollars be nicked in the first place.. it only increased her distraught. Her breaths hastened more and more, and she didn’t realize her tears had finally started to flow until she was already sprinting down the street, her vision muddled. Every step felt like thunder to her ears. Home. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she couldn’t be herself as much, and maybe she was always busy, under constant supervision. But at least there was stability. At least there was certainty of the future. At least it was comfortable, at least there was always food on the table, breakfast, lunch and dinner. At least her father never stumbled around reeking of alcohol while only Lord knew where her mother was. Maybe her parents weren’t the best to other people but at least she could be certain they were true to each other. At least she could pretend everything was fine.

Pacifica wasn’t sure how far she’d gone. She was sweaty, she felt gross and sticky. Her legs were sore, threatening to give out if she went any further. She was still bleeding. She ached everywhere. But she’d reached her destination. She stood at the bottom of a familiar, long driveway, and at the top, sitting on a large hill, towering over the town stood the proud family mansion. Waves of nostalgia and sorrow crashed over her. Everything felt so gross. Every memory tainted by the knowledge of her parents’ true nature. She couldn’t even speak to anyone, not even her parents. Who would listen to a rich brat whine about how she used to be richer? Certainly not any of the townsfolk.

She found herself staring at the manor for a while, not entirely sure what to do.

“...What am I doing here…?” Pacifica whispered, sniffling and reaching for the tissues she kept in her purse, only to be hit with the whirlwind of events that had just happened again. Her arm stung. She could barely hold herself upright. She felt so… so tired. She meekly wiped her nose on her sleeve, and started to turn around when suddenly she bumped into someone.

“Wo-ah there, kiddo, careful, better watch where ya—” a cheerful voice piped, before cutting itself off when the sight of Pacifica in her disheveled state registered. “Huh? Hey.. Ah’ know you.”

Color drained from Pacifica’s cheeks. This guy again.. Why was he here? She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks as she tried a witty remark, but — “Y-y-ea-h, well-, wh-o w-ou-uldn’-t-” — ultimately failing when her quivering body wouldn’t stop heaving sobs. Again she sniffled. Disgusting. In front of the hillbilly too.

McGucket’s face morphed into something like sympathy. He kneeled down to her height. “Ah- hey, what’s goin’ on kiddo? Are ya alright?”

Pacifica parted her lips. She wanted to say yes. Her instincts screamed at her to say yes. She could practically hear her birthgivers demanding her to say yes. She had to be perfect. She had to be flawless. She had to be stoic, proud, happy, for her family.

But that’s not what came out.

“n-NO!” she cried, her knees finally buckling as if the years of abuse weighing down on her shoulders finally came crashing down on top of her. Her face buried in her hands, sobbing violently into them. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay. Wails and cries escaped. She couldn’t stop the tears anymore. She was in so much pain, she was so alone. The sobs wouldn’t stop. The raging storm of emotion only continued to demolish her walls, clawing at her pride and self esteem. Everything she pretended to be crashed and burned at that moment.

Fiddleford had been a little stunned by the sudden breakdown, but he started to piece the situation together from the bits and pieces the poor girl was babbling. He didn’t get up and walk away like Pacifica was expecting him to. He stayed put, even placed his hand on her shoulder to try to console her. When she didn’t flinch away from him, the old man started rubbing circles on her back as she cried and cried. Fiddleford never was the best at comfort.. though he could only imagine how long this outburst had been bottled up, and he thought it best that Pacifica let it all out before trying to say anything.

It was a while before Pacifica’s sobs began to calm enough to allow her to speak in more coherent sentences. The story became clearer. She spoke about how her parents had mistreated her, like she was an accessory rather than a human being, a literal child. How things had been getting worse this past year since they were forced to move due to her father’s irresponsible stock market decisions during Weirdmaggedon, to preserve what fortune they had left. How she felt more at home at the diner than she ever did at her own residence. How she hardly saw her parents anymore. How everything had changed for the worst. The way her parents had become about money, even how they scolded her for ‘nagging’ about her birthday the previous day, when it had been the first time she brought it up in half a year. It all hurt terribly to speak of but Pacifica couldn’t help but notice the sudden weightless feeling after getting everything out. She was surprised to find Old Man McGucket was still listening.

“Y’know,” he spoke finally, “Ah knew a fella once who thought ‘e had everythin’ before ‘e lost it all too. ‘Should’a been there for ‘im like he needed.”

Pacifica was quiet for a moment. “..W..ho was he?”

Fiddleford only waved his hand. “Ol’ college buddy. Doin’ mighty fine these days. Now whaddya say we get off’a the street an’ patch up that lil’ ol’ scratch a’ yours inside?”

It tooka moment to register the question through his southern accent, but when she did, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “..I- inside..?”

Inside the mansion. Pacifica almost couldn’t believe it. Old Man McGucket was the one that bought the Northwest Manor. She wondered how on earth a former homeless man was possibly able to afford such a grand purchase, until peeks into a couple rooms along the hallway that had been filled with computers and strange machinery told her she didn’t know nearly as much about McGucket as she previously thought.

It was so strange walking through the hallways again. Everything was the same, but different. Was the grand rustic architecture and furniture always so beautiful? And… were those.. raccoons she was spotting out of the corner of her eyes?

McGucket led her to a room with a couch- a familiar silver-themed room with a certain carpet pattern. It looked nearly the same, except for the banjo leaning against the couch’s armrest, and maybe a few more stains than its previous flawless condition “for guests- that is, for guests to look at”. Despite her emotional state, she found herself smiling at the memory of her adventures with Dipper Pines, trying to bust that ghost… until she recalled the punishment her parents had made for her after that was all over. She began to feel a little sick. Her gaze dropped to the floor as McGucket trudged into the room, plopped onto the couch and patted the cushions beside him. Hesitantly, she followed him and did as gestured. It was.. weird to be back. She wiped her eyes again.

“How’d that’a happen?”

“..What?” the question hit her like a slap.

“The cut.” He gestured to the bleeding injury with a bandaged hand.

“...Oh.” Again, her gaze dropped. Her eyes began to mist again before she shut them. “..I-I.. I was.. um.. mugged on the way here… They stole my favorite purse…” Shame burned at her belly. She didn’t see any sign of judgement in McGucket’s reaction, though. He didn’t ask why she let that happen, or why she wasn’t responsible enough to bring someone with her. There was only concern for her.

“Oh.. ‘Ahm sorry that’a happened. Gravity Falls’s usually safe.. er- ah..” The old man scratched the back of his head. “‘least, it’s not the people ya gotta usually worry ‘bout.”

“Heh.. yeah..” Shrugging, the old man pulled out a full-blown first aid kid, temporarily baffling Pacifica for a moment. “Wai- were you just carrying that—?”

The question went without a response as McGucket went straight to disinfecting the cut. “‘Doesn’t look terri-bubly deep,” he piped. “Should’a stopped bleeding by now but we’ll patch it up ta’ keep it safe while it’s a-healin’.”

“Wait.. how do you know how to do this..?” Pacifica asked, furrowing her eyebrows a little. The old man gave her a cheery grin.

“Well, ‘gotta pick up somethin’ ‘bout it after livin’ in the dump buildin’ evil whatsits and thingamajigs outta rusty metal for a couple’a decades.”

..Oh. Well, that would make sense, she supposed.. Briefly, the question as to why he was being so nice to her after the way she and her family treated him crossed her mind. She wondered if that friend he mentioned had something to do with it… Suddenly she found herself wishing she’d paid closer attention to the details of the relationships between the other people involved in the zodiac. She guessed it could be that hotter Mr. Pines (or.. Dr. Pines?), she recalled seeing some kind of emotional exchange between him and McGucket during Weirdmaggedon.

Occupied with her thoughts, she hardly realized McGucket had completely finished with the bandage until he announced it.

“Done!” he cheered, stuffing the first aid kit back into the oblivion from which it came. Weird. More Gravity Falls weirdness. “...Thanks.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Y’always got’a listenin’ ear right here if ya’ need it.”

Pacifica gave him a small, grateful smile. The old man would never know what that meant to her.

“I.. I don’t know..” she sighed softly. “Today was just… awful… It’s the first birthday I’ll be spending alone, and I guess it’s… getting to me…”

“Yer birthday’s today?? Ah, Ah’m sorry, sugerbun,” McGucket spoke. “Awful break, goin’ through somethin’ like a’this on’a birthday mornin’. Say, ya always got a place right ‘ere if ya need. Plenty a’ empty bedrooms.”

Pacifica raised her head. “...R...Really..?”

McGucket beamed. “Why sure! Ya remind me a’ my lil’ Tator Tot, Ah’ miss ‘em somethin’ terrible. It gets a lil’ lonely in this ‘ere big ol’ mansion sometimes and ah wouldn’t mind a visit from some young folk from a’time ta’ time.”

She could… she could visit. Whenever she wanted? Her old home, without her parents around. McGucket was that okay with her? Even going so far as to compare her to (presumably) his own kid? That was… incredible. Before thinking it through, she threw her arms around the old man, chorusing her ‘thank you’s with a bubble of laughter. Though startled, Fiddleford slowly returned the hug with a warm smile.

He stank quite a bit. Pacifica recoiled a little at the realization of what she was doing. Ew. What would people think of her if they caught her doing something so unthinkable? Willingly embracing this stinky old man who…. gave incredible hugs.. Her concern suddenly dissolved. In its stead, a certain safety appeared, and she melted into it a little more. It was the same feeling she craved in her dreams. Dirt didn’t matter at all anymore. The feeling of a parental embrace shielding her from the unpleasantness of the world was all she could bring herself to care about at that moment. It felt so warm… Before she knew it, she was tearing up again.

“...Thank you, McGucket..”

“Heheh, anytime, sugarbun. Say, since it is yer birthday, whaddya say we hit th’ town an’ find somethin’ ta’ cheer ya up?”

Pacifica wiped her eyes with her palm. What an offer... To think a year ago she would never had even considered walking around with the old kook as a possible option, but.. She found herself looking forward to it. “I… I would love that.”

[Part 1 of ??? possibly 2??]

[dingdongitsbees]

BLACK-EYED SUSAN | LEVI X READER HUNGER GAMES AU

Chapter 13: Rinse and Repeat

Previous - Next

Tw: PTSD, implied suicidal ideation, alcoholism

WC: 5.4k Ao3 link Ask to be added to the taglist! It will be updated weekly on Saturdays

First person version can be found here

Master List

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful, it was always just red.” – Kait Rokowski

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 .

 .

It had been a few years since your world had gotten simultaneously a million times better and also gone to shit. It hadn’t really hit you two until you had spent a few days back in the homes that had been provided for you. You each had your own house as per usual for victors, but you didn’t need a second. You had spent your life together in a borderline shack, it would feel weird to have the other sleep across the street. But it had been in that gifted house that it finally came crashing down.

All you could see was their faces, all you could feel was that knife in your hand, all you could hear was that goddamn canon. You were sitting on a velvet couch paid for in blood. Now having more than enough food on the table was exchanged for lives. Being able to still exist in the world meant twenty-two people had been ripped from the world.

Levi had been next to you, so he just held you, his shoulders shuddering just as bad as yours, and you cried. You just cried. There’s nothing you can do or say or think to make anything like that better. Only time can help, and to be honest it isn’t very good at its job.

The trip to each district took what was left out of you two. Combined you had killed tributes of five districts out of the other eleven. Almost fucking half. Most of their families just glared at you on their platforms as their child’s face was displayed behind them as you recited propaganda scripts.

District Ten was hard for you. They had surprised you to be honest, neither of Sasha’s nor Connie’s family looked at you with any disdain. All you could feel was pity radiating off of them, especially from Sasha’s father. She told you how he had taught her how to shoot, you almost deviated off script to say how you learnt vicariously through his daughter, how kind she and funny she was.

Connie’s siblings hurt to look at. They looked at you with such big eyes. They should have hated you, they really fucking should have. Their brother died in one of the most horrific ways possible yet they stared at you as if you were one of their sisters. The normal people in front of the stage only copied their looks, none of them hated you for taking away two souls. It didn’t make any fucking sense. It would have been better if they had just heckled you. Just yelled at you and screamed at you, taking the brunt of their words was the least you could do for exchanging your life for one their own.

District Eleven wasn’t so kind to Levi. Kaya’s family looked like they were two seconds from breaking on to the main stage and choking him to death right there. He might have let them. Niccolo’s family was confusing. There was obviously no forgiveness for how Levi killed their son, a wild animal in a spree of rage, but they didn’t look angry. Levi had told you he had just said a few words over Niccolo before coming back, maybe those words were enough remorse for them to not want his head on a spike.

However, the civilians in the crowd didn’t agree. They had to be restrained from climbing up, yelling threats and taunts, about how he could kill a little girl without a second glance, how he took pleasure in killing Niccolo. Levi kept his head down, his undercut blinding his view, but his hand shook in yours. You did the speech on behalf of the both of you.

The districts from Nine to Five didn’t give two shits about you, maybe only some had mild curiosity. Their glazed-over eyes just stared, clearly bored as you were from the fuckery spilling from your lips. Some of the families glared only because their child wasn’t standing up there instead of you, but you couldn’t blame them for that.

One was…weird to say the least. Neither of you had many interactions with either Annie or Bertolt, but you two lead them to their deaths. Levi may have killed Annie directly but Bertolt’s murder was just cruel, you knew that, but you had thrown that rock anyway. Both of their families just looked devoid of any emotion, the crowd didn’t seem to care, that’s One for you, but their parents just looked empty. The speech went smoothly.

Three was strange as well, you never met nor saw their girl, but Falco you certainly had, but you also hadn’t killed him, in reality your relationship him was positive. They didn’t seem to hate you, quite the opposite really, they seemed to be happy you were there. Three was no stranger to careers betraying and killing their tributes so they were probably just happy Reiner didn’t win and it had been because of your own hands. Still, it was strange. Falco’s older brother, the one you had seen in the reaping recording, had looked on the brink of tears but he stayed strong, his back straight and head up high. They probably wouldn’t have looked at you the same if Falco had gone with you. Someone would have needed to kill him at some point anyway, it just so happened it wasn’t you.

Two was painful. Instead of two separate families standing on their respective platforms it was just one. There was confliction in their eyes for sure, you were surprised they could even stand to be around each other, their sister or bother’s son killing their child. But they stood together. Staring at you with a mix of hate and affection. Levi had to do the speech that time.

Four was hard once again, but only because of one person, specifically Marcel’s younger brother. He flew daggers from his eyes, pure fury ran through his veins. He probably would have killed you both if he had the chance, probably would have been good at it too. You could only begin to imagine the anger he had stored up since you had sliced his brother’s throat.

You recognised him in the reaping for the next game.

He used his anger well.

At the end of the trip you had to go to the Capitol once again for the Presidents party. You nearly preferred the arena.

Floch was sweating buckets under Zeke’s gaze the entire time and drank himself into a stupor, avoiding you both at every turn which you were glad for. People reached for you like you were statues, brushing your hair and clothes and bodies like you were pets. Nick was the only thing stopping you from cursing everyone in the vicinity, Levi came close. Zeke watched from his balcony, eyes narrowed and sipping on champagne waiting for one of you to misstep so he could order a bullet into your heads.

When you got home you two didn’t know what to do. You both fucked around for a year, bought anything that caught your eyes at the hub no matter if it was an ugly piece of pottery or a toy. You bought a lot of liquor too and drank most in one go. The burning in your throats let you forget the inferno in your brains. A small price to pay for some peace and quiet between neurons.

You two were rarely sober for the first few months. You’d wake up and have whiskey for breakfast, you’d walk around town, maybe sneak through the fence, and have some gin, and if it was a particularly bad day you’d opt for tequila as your bedtime stories.

People in the streets knew to leave you alone, just to let you wallow a bit, they hadn’t seen many victors, but they could guess that starting up conversations with people on the knife’s edge was a good way to get punched. Hannes talked to you two occasionally, usually at the hub, cheering your bottles with his flask. He didn’t ask about the game, he saw enough anyway, he just pretended you were those troublemaker kids you had been when you left.

It was Hanji of all people that got you out of it, though she wasn’t one to talk when it came to the number of empty bottles in your living room, but she at least cut the number down a bit or swapped out the drinks for something weaker much to your slurred complaints.

The months after that were hard, letting the built-up trauma hit you like a train. You both started getting nightmares.

One of you would wake up already screaming or crying or be entirely frozen still and unable to move as their body quaked. The other would hold on to them until their tremors ceased and their breath evened again. Then you’d just rinse and repeat the next night.

Rinse and repeat.

Flinch at a raised voice, go numb at the sight of blood, start hyperventilating when you were sure you had seen another tribute in the crowd.

Try not to let yourself die.

Rinse and repeat.

Then the next game came around. You both offered to go as mentors, to let Hanji take a backseat from the role after her isolating years, she came to make sure you didn’t say something stupid, but she just got to hang around without much of a care.

The two kids that you got weren’t good. You knew the second that their names were called that they were goners. Wouldn’t make it in the bloodbath, and even if they ran, they probably wouldn’t live past the first day. You learnt to push their names away. It didn’t help any to hang on to them.

The kids weren’t dumb, they knew that too.

There was a little bit of hope when they looked at you however, a hope that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Porco had sliced both of their throats open within the first minute. Porco won the title of victor in only three days with a kill count of eight. They never had a chance.

You think that was the last time you cried.

When mentors go to the Capitol and watch the feed, they sit in a room together connected to an ongoing party that never stops until the games do, infested with sponsors and government officials. Only mentors are allowed in that room, not even titan servants. You just needed a room to be in to be able to grieve only with people that understood.

They always looked after the new mentors, it didn’t matter the districts or even if their tribute killed yours, they’d hold you, get you a glass of water or usually something stronger, just let you get everything out and topped up makeup on your red rimmed eyes before you got ambushed by press outside the door. Sometimes the career districts were prickly, but only the ones that truly cared about the kids became mentors anyway, so they weren’t ones to give you shit.

It just sort of numbed you after that. You’re not sure if you could even remember all the kids you sent to their deaths. No, you definitely couldn’t, and you didn’t plan to.

Without fail every year they always got killed in the bloodbath, and every year without fail you’d drill into them to just run away, but they just wouldn’t listen, or the careers just didn’t let them leave. You both spent most of your time in the Capitol just flicking off the tops of third bottles and taking quiet bets on who was going to win or who’d kill who. Levi was always right.

It was actually Erwin’s idea to do something back at Twelve, to find something to pour yourselves into. So, after the 70th Hunger Games you went back and pushed your ludicrous amount of money to builders to create an orphanage. The one on your side of Twelve was shit and didn’t have the funding nor space, it was the reason you two had never gone to it yourselves, so you gave them some of your load too so they could get food on the table for once.

Kids started trickling in, you didn’t run the place yourselves, you didn’t have the emotional range to do something like that anymore and you’d probably do more harm than good as their caretakers, they didn’t need a pair of fucked up twenty-year-olds to lead them through life. But you visited, making sure everything was up to scratch and there was no complaints or concerns from the kids about the people you had employed or the quality of their beds and food or if they needed some more toys to play with.

Levi always made sure the place was meticulous, and it was kinda funny how he used cleaning as his way to bond with the kids. They always complained but they never said no when he asked for their help. You helped kids with schoolwork and funded whatever type of skill they wanted to learn.

“You wanna paint? Here’s an easel and some paints from the Capitol that my designer friend sent over.”

It was hard to smile but at least you could help them to.

One day, when you two had dropped in to visit before you went to stock up on vodka, a boy came up to you with big emerald eyes, with a black-haired girl trailing after him. He asked a question that got everyone surrounding you looking up from their sandwiches.

“Can you teach us how to fight?”

And so you did. Twelve had always been at a disadvantage, nothing in your district aided you for the Games, the closet you’d had was learning about mines and explosions or having the physical strength to lift a pickaxe but that was only available when you worked in the mineshafts at eighteen, the last year qualifying for the reaping, and eighteen-years-olds were never picked.

So usually any kid that went in was utterly fucked.

Unless you tried changing that.

You started small. Learning how to throw a proper punch or kick, things you had learnt on the streets stirring up trouble. How to balance yourself in a proper stance so a gust of wind or a shove from a career wouldn’t send you stumbling.

You taught them the things you learnt in the Capitol and in the training room; what foods were safe, how to set a trap, how to treat a wound, how to conduct an interview, how to form an alliance, who to avoid.

It was a long time before you held a blade again.

They had begged you for months to just teach them how to knife fight, but the idea still shook you. You hadn’t held a throwing knife in your hand for years, but it still melded uncomfortably comfortable into your palm. You could still throw it and hit it dead on centre. You knew if the throw was hard enough to go through someone’s skull. You knew how long it would take for their body to hit the ground if it were a clean shot, and how long it would take if it wasn’t. You knew how many milliseconds it would take for the canon to fire.

Picking up a knife again, only if to teach, was a torturous process, but you didn’t let them know that. You would just drink a little more that night.

“Eren keep your arms up! Try and copy Mikasa’s form!” you barked.

They all stood in a line, throwing knives into hay bales, some making it, most missing. Mikasa was unsurprisingly the former, Eren was unsurprisingly the latter. The two were always the hardest at work though it seemed it was usually driven by Eren’s ambition. The kid wasn’t gifted with natural talent but he was stubborn enough to try and make up for it. They had come to the orphanage after Mikasa’s parents were murdered over some debt they couldn’t pay and Eren lost his mum to a mine explosion and then his father caught something bad from his own patient.

It was always them begging you (well Eren at least, Mikasa would just ask nicely) for more lessons and whatever advice they could squeeze out of you. It frightened you a little, Eren’s enthusiasm, you had seen that face before.

It was an unspoken truth that they were your favourites of the bunch, the others didn’t take offence to it, it was just those two were always coming up to you two whenever they got the chance, though you were scared it was because they reminded you of an overconfident kid and the one trying to take care of them. You tried to pretend you didn’t see Gabi and Falco when you looked at them.

“I’m trying but my arm’s starting to feel heavy!” Eren said, not even bothering to turn his head.

“You brats don’t have time to get tired when you’re in there so just get used to it,” Levi replied.

He walked behind them, arms crossed as he analysed each of them, you tried not to make a joke that Eren and Mikasa were taller than him now. He muttered out tips to those who needed it, and compliments to those who deserved it, you had tried to get him to coddle them just a little bit but then he said overestimating yourself just gets your killed and you couldn’t say anything to that. When he got to the end of the line of kids, he wandered back over to you and you gave a crooked smile.

He bumped his shoulder into yours before turning around and standing next to you, you both falling into your usual silence as you just watched.

“There’s more of them than usual,” Levi noted and you nodded absentmindedly.

“It’s today, it makes them nervous.”

“Zeke never picks them though.”

That was true, when you had first started up the orphanage, you had expected Zeke to jump at the opportunity, there was no way he wasn’t privy to your every movement let alone something that required legal documents to be signed, so how he hadn’t rigged the reaping to pull one of your kids was honestly getting a little unnerving.

But each year a pair of kids were picked that you didn’t recognise, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief; it’s much easier to forget strangers.

You realised that the games were rigged at the 71st games, you had noticed that all the slips of paper you could see, even though they were folded in half, would all start with the same letter, it peeking out, and then the name called out would match. You asked Hanji afterwards, cause there was no way she hadn’t noticed, and she just laughed in your face.

“It’s a show, of course they choose their cast.”

You leant your head on his shoulder as you watched, he leant his head too. His arms untangled themselves from each other and he let one fall, letting his pinkie interlock with your waiting one. You both still being there was a constant surprise and an unspoken threat, because someday, when Zeke got tired, or you did something to piss him off, that fact might not be so true anymore.

But Levi’s there now, maybe not tomorrow, but today at least, and you could only hope that the trend remained.

“Cut it out dude!”

You both whipped your heads around, finding two kids wrestling on the ground. They panted as they tried to get the advantage, dust billowing around them as the other kids stared. Neither of you could be bothered to move. Eventually one straddled the other, pinning him to the dirt.

Levi’s pinkie tightened.

The boy on the ground whined while the other grinned in victory before joining his empty hands together and sending them down onto the boy’s chest.

Levi stiffened beneath you and alarm bells blared in your head.

The boy started pretending to stab him.

“Die! Die! Die!”

The kids around them laughed.

The boy beneath told him to stop.

Levi’s breath shortened.

You were at the kids in a second, pulling them off one another.

“That’s enough.”

They went silent, the boys looking down to the ground in shame, though they didn’t know why you were trying so hard not to glare.

“Time to pack up anyway, you guys need to get ready for the reaping,” you said, you were just greeted with whinges, “Put the knives in the tub you lot. Now.”

They instantly shut up, knowing that tone of yours was not to be messed with under any circumstances. They all shuffled off, throwing the knives in, you always counted them all in case one of them took one, but they were good kids.

Levi nodded at them as they filed back inside the building, jaw still tight. As soon as they were all gone, Eren and Mikasa waving goodbye at the end of the line, you sprinted back over, running your hands through his hair as you brought his face to your shoulder.

“Shh it’s okay it’s okay.”

A shudder whipped through him.

You kissed his temple. “You’re not in the arena, you’re in Twelve. I’m not about to die and neither are you. No one is dying and no one is going to. Just breathe, just focus on my voice and breathe.”

Eventually he stilled again, air flowing through his lungs like normal. It didn’t happen as much anymore, but it still happened. It probably didn’t help that he was about to meet two dead kids.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

He nodded into your shoulder before finally raising his head, sliding over his façade again. You two of all people had to be the strong ones today, you couldn’t show fear, you weren’t allowed to anymore.

The walk home was silent, most people were inside or rushing home to get ready. You dropped past the hub quickly and you bought some bottles from your usual, Levi didn’t say a word, just stared into space. You passed the town square, the camera crews were nearly all set up, the barriers were getting placed. Hannes was testing the mic on the stage, he sent you a nod that you sent back.

The Victor’s village was always weird to see, after passing smog polluted houses with windows that are barely transparent anymore with walls that are starting to tilt, you come to a pristine gate. The separation pissed you off like it was saying you were better than them, but Nick would have your head if you even suggested taking it down. The houses were beautiful too. Maybe it was just an average house for a Capitol citizen, maybe a little nicer, but it looked like a goddamn king’s estate compared to everywhere else in Twelve.

People would say you deserved it, to have a nice home. It made you want to puke.

You could see Hanji through her window, lounging on a couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. Seemed like a plan.

You squeezed Levi’s hand as you unlocked the door and led him inside. You shed your jackets and shoes and put away your bottles, leaving one out. You glanced to him, he was still sort of out of it, he needed quietness, maybe a bath. Yeah a bath would do, those always calmed him down.

You trekked up the stairs, on the landing you let yourself take a little run up and slide across the wooden floorboards on your socks towards the bathroom door. Silly shit helped sometimes.

You reached out and grabbed the handle and turned it, pushing forward on the door. It let out an ungodly and far too familiar screech.

You gasped and slammed your back into the wall.

Fuck.

Your breath was getting quicker, not letting your lungs get enough oxygen before taking another gulp.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You crouched down, elbows on your knees as you pressed your palms into your eyes at a sad attempt to get your brain to stop.

You could only see him, or in more exact terms, you could only see his melted remains.

Fuck.

Rapid thumps came from the stairwell, you didn’t look up as arms enveloped you.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed your head before holding you tighter. Your need to talk to communicate was even less than it used to be ever since the Games. There were things you two didn’t need to speak about, you just acted on, knowing exactly what to do.

Though there were moments you didn’t want to talk about, and you didn’t plan to talk about them either. He didn’t mention finding you sobbing on the bathroom floor surrounded by spilled sleeping pills and you didn’t mention waking up alone in bed and finding him completely out of it on the roof of the orphanage. You didn’t talk about it, but you held each other a little tighter just as you did both of those nights.

“I’ll get some oil for it when we get back,” Levi whispered.

You nodded into his chest.

“Bath?” he asked.

You nodded again.

.

Warm water has magical powers you swore, it really shouldn’t be able to make someone feel so good, to be able to relax and almost drift away forgetting about the possibility of drowning. What a lame way to go out, though it was much nicer than the ways you’d seen.

You laid on Levi’s chest as the water rippled around your little movements. He played with your pruned fingers, touching the fingertips with his own like it was an interactive museum exhibit. You watched, fascinated by his fascination, blinking slowly as the bath bled out all of your stress.

Moments like that were nice, but it had to be broken today. You couldn’t stay in that warm heaven forever, though it was quite tempting, you wouldn’t exactly be missing out on the adventure of a lifetime.

.

You ruffled the towel through your hair as you sipped the vodka. The burn and taste were barely noticeable, even the effect had begun to wear off or maybe you had just gotten better at being under the influence.

“Catch.”

You threw the bottle to Levi on the couch who caught it without a second glance, immediately taking a few gulps of it himself.

“Hello you two.”

You both looked to the door, sending tight smiles to your usual guest, though to be honest your home was hers and hers was yours at that point.

She walked behind Levi’s couch and took the bottle that he already had extended to her, taking a gulp before placing it on a side table.

“Ready to send children to die?”

.

The reaping went as usual. Hanji welcomed everyone to the 74th Hunger Games, two kids got reaped, one fifteen-year-old and one thirteen-year-old, you couldn’t remember which was which. You waited in the train, neither of them came up to talk to you and just ate up all the food they could before passing out on the nicest bed they would ever sleep in. You didn’t bother them, one look and you knew they were a lost cause.

The process went on.

Neither were that charismatic, they were only memorable because they were last and that was pushing it as is. They both got low scores, a four and a six. The thirteen-year-old cried himself to sleep the night before, or he might have, you wouldn’t know, you slept through it.

That morning you went up to the roof with them, got in the mentor’s hovercraft and just twiddled your thumbs, wondering who was going to win that year or what the arena was going to look like. You went in, sitting in the back of a cart, going through the maze of corridors beneath the grand stage, not bothering to focus in your eyes to see your surroundings. It was just grey walls anyway.

You yawned when you got to the centre, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to find your tributes amongst all of the shaking teenagers.

A finger tapped you on the shoulder. You spun around to see the girl from…Seven? She grinned, her eyes crinkling.

“I just wanted to say I think you’re really cool, I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

You blinked.

“Oh, is that so? Good luck then I guess.”

She smiled even wider before running off with a wave. You dragged a hand over your face before heading over to your tribute waiting for you.

It was a forest arena, nothing too special.

The games had long since started when you got back to main city of the Capitol and went into the sponsor party, both of you immediately beelined for the mentor room. You watched as replays showed one getting killed in the bloodbath the other getting hunted down by none other than the careers. You just stared at their slow-mo screaming faces and sighed.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t even blink. You did the first time but after that it’s just been shut away. Thankfully there was no new mentors that year, you didn’t have to deal with sobbing messes. You were too exhausted to care for someone anymore. Compassion doesn’t come cheap.

The mentor room was filled with pain as always, most were just trying to unlearn two names as quickly as possible, drowning their neurons in liquor so they could pretend that two faces weren’t burnt into their brains. It won’t be enough, it never is. You knew that too now.

Some of the others in the room weren’t mentors but they were victors all the same, having just grabbed a free trip to the Capitol so they could bum off some high-class booze. Couldn’t blame them. They were lucky though, the other districts, having more than three victors meant they had the option of just staying home and just ignoring the screen. They didn’t have to know the kids.

You two spent the rest of your time in silence, going back up to the penthouse to sleep before coming back, hoping the whole ordeal would be over soon.

The girl that talked to you before it started, a girl from Eight you had learned, was still alive though, and you couldn’t help but cheer for her a little bit. She started an alliance with a girl from Six, both doing well against the attempted threats on their lives by the careers. Soon they had made it to the last few with only a few scratches to show the world, much better than your leg to say the least. It still ached every once in a while.

But you were still surprised when her little duo alliance were the last ones left. Their mentors were on the edges of their seats, hands covering their noses and mouths like a prayer, eyes glued to the screen.

Then the girl from Eight did something fucking stupid, something that made everyone’s breath hitch around the country.

She brought out some poisonous berries. They had killed a career with them, not needing to get into a fight, but then they held grenades in the form of blueberries in their blood-stained hands.

They brought it to their mouths as the room cursed in unison, people rose from their seats, you could hear people yelling outside the door. They both hesitated for a second as they counted down but plopped them in their mouths anyway.

Two canons fired in quick succession.

The transmission was as silent as the room. No one knew what to do. You stared at the screen with two dead kids. There wasn’t going to be a victor. There wasn’t going to be a victor because they copied you.

“I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The room slowly turned to you two as your heart hammered in your chest, Levi’s hand fumbled for yours.

You were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

.

.

.

a/n: sorry this chapter was late! this was mainly just summary but we’ll really get into it next chapter

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The Ex

Chapter Six of Well, This is Awkward

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Rating: 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: An old flame reappears and some things start to come to light about Dave.

Warnings: Language, angst, *SMUT*, daddy kink, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, light choking, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP), cheating/infidelity, abuse, violence, forced abortion/miscarriage, MAJOR TRAUMA

A/N: I’m putting a trigger warning for the second flashback. If you’d like to skip it you can, the end of the second flashback is the end of that scene.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

Ever since you and Dave had found out about Carol’s extramarital activities, you both had jumped headfirst into whatever it was that this was. You’d spent nearly every night in his bed with him once the girls were asleep, not to mention your shared activities throughout the day while the girls were away. The first night you’d spent in Dave’s bed with phenomenal, to say the least.

—FLASHBACK—

"I expect you to be naked and waiting,” Dave instructed sternly. You’d clenched your thighs together in anticipation as you nodded and made your way to his bedroom. Once there, you stripped all your clothes off and crawled up onto the bed and laid down, back against the headboard, and waited. You grew anxious at Dave took his sweet time coming in, so you began to touch yourself while you waited. You trailed your fingers down your torso and between your thighs, dipping them into your heat. You were slick with want for Dave, mixed with your combined juices from earlier. You began to pump your fingers into your soaked cunt and moaned out, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Now what do we have here?” you heard a voice, opening your eyes and smiling at Dave as you saw him with his pants already undone and his cock in his hand. “Did I say you could start playing with yourself?” You gulped, shaking your head no as you took your fingers out.

Busted.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you innocently said as you crawled over to the foot of the bed to grasp his hard cock in your hand and lick it. Dave threw his head back as he felt your tongue lap on the underside of his cock. Groaning as you fully enveloped him in your mouth with a slurp.

“Oh fuck, baby girl, you keep that up, and you’ll be forgiven,” he managed to croak out as you worked your way up and down his length, taking his balls into your hand that wasn’t wrapped around his cock. You felt him stop you partway through and turn you around.

“Get on all fours for me, sweetheart,” Dave said as he parted your legs. “Yeah, just like that. That’s a good girl.” His praises went straight to your pussy, and you felt yourself leaking out onto the bed. Dave groaned as he watched a droplet of your juices drip out of you, and he took the opportunity to lunge forward and devour you. He uses two fingers to spread your lips apart so he can quickly flick his tongue against your clit while his other hand is on your ass, holding you steady. You whimper with want at the feel of his tongue against your clit and then move down to your folds.

“Oh fuck, Daddy, please,” you whine out, rocking back against his tongue as it dips into your folds. You hear Dave groan out at the taste of your combined juices from earlier in the evening, and he laps at you more. He flattens his tongue as he licks from your entrance to your clit and then takes your clit into his mouth and sucks. You have to bury your face into the bed to stifle your moans as he assaults your pussy like a man starved. You feel your legs start to quiver as you grow closer to the brink. Dave takes the opportunity to plunge three fingers straight into your cunt, and you feel him hit your g-spot. You explode with a loud moan of ecstasy, feeling your walls clench around his fingers and your cum drip out as he laps it all up.

“You taste so good, baby girl,” Dave praises as he turns you over onto your back and brings his lips to meet yours. You taste yourself on his lips and moan as your tongue battles him for dominance. You feel him slide into your drenched pussy and wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him right where you wanted him.

“Ohhh Dave,” you moaned out. You felt him grip your neck as he lightly squeezed.

“What was that?” he said, licking up the side of your neck and biting your earlobe. “What’d you call me?”

“Ughh, Daddy. I’m sorry. Daddy, please,” you begged in desperation as you felt Dave slide out of you slowly. Dave smirked against your skin as he bit down hard on your shoulder and slammed himself back into you with so much force that it made the headboard bang against the wall.

“So fucking tight and wet for me,” he said as he plowed himself into you with more enthusiasm. “Such a good girl, taking my cock so fucking well.” The more Dave praised you, the more soaked you got, and the more he pounded into you. You felt his thrusts start to get a little more off rhythm and suddenly felt him slam into you and shoot hot beads of his cum into your walls. This triggered your orgasm, and you felt yourself cry out as he covered your mouth with his in a passionate kiss.

“You’re not going to be sleeping tonight, baby girl,” Dave said as he started pumping into yet again, still hard as a rock.

Well, fuck me.

—END FLASHBACK—

The two weeks had been pure bliss, and you were not looking forward to Carol’s inevitable return in a few days. The girls had been pretty sullen since finding out their mother would be gone longer, and you could tell that it was taking a toll on them. Alice had even asked if you could stay and be their new mom two days ago since she doubted that Carol would come home.

“Does this happen often?” you’d asked Alice on your way to drop them off for school that morning.

“Yeah, last time she was gone for three weeks,” Alice said with a sigh as she looked out the window.

“Oh wow,” you breathed out in disbelief. You thought that Carol didn’t make a habit of doing this, but you were proven wrong. Now you understood more about Dave’s anger at Carol. You understood how much more work Dave had to fill the void that Carol left with their daughters. Your thoughts were further soured when you thought about how Carol had only hired you for her to go on vacation with her assistant.

Fucking bitch, you thought. You proceeded to drop off the girls and head to your apartment. You needed to water your plants and get more clothes. You hadn’t foreseen not going home for nearly a month and especially hadn’t expected Dave to rip early half your wardrobe that you’d brought over the first day. He’d told you to go out and buy more with the black card you’d gotten, but you said to him that you felt dirty using the money that Carol was giving you.

“Technically, I’m the one giving you the money,” he’d retorted back with a snort as he’d slid a finger into you three days ago in the living room while the girls were at school. Your heart raced, thinking back to that day and how hot it had been to have sex in the backyard where the neighbors could’ve seen and heard. You shook your head with a smile as you neared your apartment and made your way inside. You gathered up some more of your belongings, making sure to grab extra underwear before watering your orchids and succulents. Suddenly you heard a knock at the door. You grew uneasy because you weren’t expecting anyone, and your senses were swiftly on overdrive. You made your way to the door and looked through the peephole. Your unease grew as you saw a figure with their back turned to the door. You recognized that stance anywhere. Tom.

“Knock knock,” You heard him say. “I know you’re in there, baby.” Your throat grew tight with fear.

“Tom, what the fuck are you doing here?!” you managed to squeeze out, making sure to sound as tough as possible while nearly shaking on the other side of the door.

“I came back for you, babe. They let me out early on good behavior. Can you believe that?” Tom taunted. “Now, why don’t you be a good girl and open the door.” You looked at the locks and were relieved to see that they were indeed still secure, with the chain also locked in place. Tom knocked again, harder than before.

“Open the door right now,” he shouted, pounding his fist against it. You ran back to the kitchen and grabbed your phone, sending off a text to your friends Mel and Jesse.

You: Guys, Tom is here.

Mel: Where?!

You: Here outside my apartment! He said they let him out early for good behavior!

Your phone began to ring. Mel was calling you.

“Fuck dude, barricade the door and call 911,” she calmly said as you began to hyperventilate.

This was not happening.

“Listen to me! Call 911!” Mel shouted into the phone, and you nodded.

“Ok, I’m calling them right now. Can you please drive this way?” You asked, panicking as your hands shook, trying to unlock your phone.

“Yeah, I’m already on the way, and so is Jesse. Hang in there, sweetie,” Mel said as you ended the call. You quickly dialed 911 and waited.

“911, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher said into the phone. You struggled to breathe. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

“…H...Hello. Um…My ex-boyfriend is outside my apartment trying to get in,” you managed to say, tears forming in your eyes.

“Ma’am, are you in a safe place? We can dispatch someone out momentarily,” she said. You nodded and then realized she couldn’t see you.

“Ye – yes, I’m hiding in my bedroom now,” you replied.

“Ok, good. Can you give me your address, please, and we’ll get a squad car out.” You rattled off your address to her, and she replied, saying that someone would be there in a few minutes.

“Please hurry,” you pleaded, as you could hear Tom pounding harder on the front door and him jiggle the knob. In your fear, you hit END on the call, and you looked at the door in horror, listening to any sign that he may have left.

“FUCKING BITCH!!!! OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR!” Tom shouted again as the banging continued. You decided to shoot Dave a quick text to let him know why you weren’t back at the house yet.

You: Dave, please help me. My ex is at my apartment.

Dave: I’m on my way.

You gripped the phone tightly as you closed your eyes, and tears dripped out. You were sure that he’d be locked up for a long time after what happened. More tears streamed down your face as you recalled the events of that fateful night.

—FLASHBACK—

❗️TRIGGER WARNING❗

“You whore, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Tom shouted as he grabbed your arm forcefully. You knew a bruise would be there tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m sorry,” you pleaded, tears running down your face as he slapped you.

“Sorry, isn’t good enough, goddammit! I told you I wanted dinner ready as soon as I got home! Not fifteen minutes after. Not fucking thirty minutes after!” he yelled over you. You recoiled in fear as Tom cocked his fist back to hit you again. Instead, he threw you onto the ground and proceeded to kick you in the stomach.

“No, Tom! Please stop!” you begged, trying to protect your middle. He kicked you again, and you cried out.

“Shut the fuck up!” He yelled as he grabbed your hair and lifted your head.

“Please, Tom. Please stop. Don’t hurt the baby,” you implored. Tom stopped his actions and looked at you in anger.

“Are you fucking serious right now?!” he raged, rearing back as he slammed your head down onto the floor. “You got fucking knocked up, you whore!?” You cried even more as you watched him walk away from you and into the kitchen.

“Please, Tom. You’re drunk, baby. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You watched as Tom came back into the kitchen and your body froze in fear at the glistening blade in his hand.

“You fucking bitch. I’m going to cut that baby right out of you,” Tom said as he drew closer. You crawled backward away from him until your back hit the wall.

Oh god, please no.

You prayed as he crouched down in front of you, and you cowered in fear.

“I’m so sick of your shit. Why I put up with you all this time, I have no idea,” Tom said as he spat into your face and gripped your head. You thought to fight back, claw at his arms, at his face, anything. But you were paralyzed with fear. You watched in slow motion as Tom plunged the blade into your body. You watched as blood began to pool around it and seep into your shirt.

“No,” you managed to breathe out before you lost consciousness.

 You’d woken up at the hospital two weeks later, unsure of how you’d gotten there. You were convinced that Tom had killed you, but here you were. Connected to all these machines that beeped and whirred. You sat up in bed and winced as you felt a pain in your abdomen.

The baby!

You looked down at your bandaged middle and instantly knew. Tom had killed your baby and almost killed you. You’d been discharged two days after you woke into your sister’s care, and you felt like a shell of yourself. You’d almost died and had also lost your baby. The night Tom had tried to kill you, a neighbor had decided to call the cops, and they’d arrived shortly after Tom had stabbed you. Tom was convicted for one count of attempted manslaughter, one count of fetal homicide, six counts of domestic violence, one count of assault with a deadly weapon, and two counts of aggravated assault. All counts should have put him away for life, but the judge pitied Tom and had only given him ten years. Thankfully, you’d moved to a different city and even state and had put it all behind you.

—END FLASHBACK—

It turns out that Tom was resourceful and had found you. With tears streaming down your face at the painful memories, you looked down at your phone. Only three minutes had passed since you’d texted Dave and called the police, and there was no sign of either of them yet. You knew that it would take Dave about fifteen minutes to get from his house to your apartment, and you could only guess how long it would take the police. Tom’s constant banging on the door had you quaking, and you sent Dave another text.

You: Please hurry.

As soon as you hadn’t been right after dropping off the girls at school, Dave had checked your location on his phone. He saw that you were at your apartment and let out a sigh. Resnik had alerted him two days ago that Tom had left his home and was headed towards you. The bastard had been resourceful and pulled a piece of mail you’d sent your sister that had your address on it. Dave was angry, to say the least. Not only did he have to deal with Carol and her shit when she got home in a few days, but now he had to deal with your ex potentially being in town. Dave checked the cameras he’d planted in your apartment and clenched his jaw when he saw your ex was already in town—standing outside your apartment door.

“Fuck!” he shouted as he got up and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He pulled out a Glock and its magazine, inserting the magazine into the base and cocking the pistol. He then grabbed the suppressor and attached it to the muzzle. He tucked it into the waistband on the back of his pants and made his way out the door, shooting the boys a quick text to meet him at your apartment, but stay hidden. As Dave made his way to your apartment, he got your text and seethed. Tom was trying to break in, and from the looks of the camera feed in your room, he was giving you quite a scare. Dave’s anger flared up as he watched the tears streaming down your face.

This bastard was going to pay.

Dave’s phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced down at it.

Resnik: She called the cops a minute ago. They’re on the way.

Dave: Stay out of sight but keep an eye on things. I should beat the cops there.

Resnik: Roger that.

Dave pressed the gas pedal down, speeding up to get to you sooner. Luckily, when you’d texted him, he was already on his way, so he wasn’t far. Dave pulled into the apartment complex and saw Tom at your doorstep howling to let him in. Dave swiftly got out of his SUV and put his hand on the back of his pants, ready to grab his gun should he need to.

Thank god people are at work at this time of day.

I don’t have the patience to try and explain that one, Dave thought.

“Open this fucking door up, you stupid bitch!” Dave heard Tom yell as he kicked the door and jiggled the handle some more. Tom caught Dave’s movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over at Dave, sizing him up.

“What the fuck do you want?” Tom shouted, trying to make himself look intimidating.

“I want you to go,” Dave calmly said, his hand gripping the handle of the gun.

“Fuck you. Who do you think you are? Huh?” Tom yelled as he stepped towards Dave, pulling out a knife.

“That doesn’t concern you,” Dave said as he drew his gun and aimed it at Tom. At the sight of the pistol, Tom halted his steps, weighing his options.

Never bring a knife to a gunfight, Dave thought.

“Fuck this. Fuck you and this bitch,” Tom said as he spat towards Dave. “I’ll be back.” Tom began to walk backward, and Dave watched as he got into a car and drove off, fuming. Dave lowered the gun and walked over to your door, and knocked.

“Hello?” he said. He didn’t hear a sound from inside and opened up his phone to look at the feed. You were still cowering in your room. Dave decided to send you a text that he was outside and Tom was gone, and he watched through the phone screen as you read his text and buried your head in your knees and cried. Dave grabbed the spare key to your apartment and let himself in, making sure to lock the door behind him in case Tom decided to come back. He tucked his gun into the back of his pants again as he neared your room and heard your cries.

“Hey, it’s me. Dave,” he announced as he walked in. You looked up at him, eyes red and puffy, tears streaming down your face, and a little snot coming out of your left nostril. You cried harder as you got up and stumbled over to Dave, into his waiting arms as he shushed you and stroked your hair.

“Shhhh. He’s gone. I got rid of him,” he said into your hair, trying to calm you down. You held onto his shirt and cried some more. You slipped your arms around him and held onto him, and he breathed in your scent, not wanting to let go. Dave continued to stroke your hair as you began to calm down, and your arms slipped from the middle of his back to the bottom and came in contact with the butt of the gun. You both froze as you looked up at him, fear evident in your eyes.

Fuck, Dave thought.

“Dave,” you slowly said as you let go of him and took a step back. “Why do you have a gun?” There was a pregnant pause before you spoke again.

“And how did you get into my apartment?

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[electronicgrowth]

Can’t Get Enough Part 5

Billie has lost her virginity! Where is this relationship headed? 

This has just been chilling in drafts... I forgot I was a person there for a moment. I apologize.

Summary: The two most stubborn people in Knockemstiff, Ohio have eyes for only each other. Lee Bodecker is determined to become the town’s next sheriff. He knows that image is everything. Billie Dechswaan doesn’t care about her image at all. All she wants is to leave Knockemstiff and never come back. But Lee has other plans for her. Both are far too stubborn to give up their own plans. What happens when they can’t get enough of each other?

Word Count: 2.3k

After losing her virginity, Billie can’t get enough of Lee. When he’s inside her, she promises him all the things he wants. But they fight about her wanting leave. She’s still adamant about moving away, despite her attack. Lee tries desperately to reason with her. But she won’t hear it. Lee feels his time running out as the days in June and July come and go. He makes the decision for them one day. He pokes holes in every single condom. He feels slightly guilty, but Bille needs to realizes how much she needs him. 

All the arguing comes to a head one night in mid-August. Billie snuck out like she did most nights and met up with Lee. She quickly slide into the car and kissed him. It was a Wednesday night and they hadn’t seen each other since the church service on Sunday. Billie had spent most of the time between services chatting with Lee, instead of helping to serve luncheon, and this behavior was not missed by the church ladies. 

Rumors were flying. Everyone was wondering when Lee would finally make Billie his wife. Many were saying that it was bound to happen before the next election. She’d be sherif’s wife by Christmas, the gossip said. Edna, the police station secretary made the mistake of asking Lee and relaying all the gossip. It got him thinking. He was going to broach the idea with Billie. He had to. He already had a ring anyway. 

Before Lee could even start the car and drive away. Billie was kissing his neck. 

“Did you miss me, baby?” He teased. Pulling her closer to him. 

“I always miss you,” she scoffed, straddling his hips. 

“I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips. She ran her tongue against his. 

“You know,” he began, pulling back from the kiss, “You don’t have to miss me.” 

“What do you mean?” Billie giggled, staring at him, “I always miss you when you’re not around.” 

“I mean, you could miss me less,” Lee said. Billie’s smile dropped a bit. 

“What are talking about, honey?” She asked. 

“If we live together, we would see each other everyday. Wake up together, go to bed together,” he hummed, kissing her neck between each phrase. 

“Lee,” she scolded, pulling away from him. 

“Come on baby,” he huffed, “Be mine. Be mine forever. And don’t give me that whole song and dance about leaving. You want to be with me and I want to be with you. I could give you everything. Just let me.” 

“We’ve talked about this, I want to be independent for a while,” Billie grumbled. 

“Billie, come on. We’ve been together practically everyday for months. Why do you have to independent? You want to get married and have kids right?” He asked. 

“Of course, I do. But—“

“No. No buts. If you’re planning to have kids, you won’t be working that long anyway. So, pick the right man to have kids with. Pick me, baby,” Lee implored. Billie stared at him and slipped off his lap. 

“I was up front with you Lee. I told you I was going to leave and go to college. You knew that going in. I should go,” she whispered. Climbing out of the car. Lee ground his teeth before he got out of the car. 

“Billie,” he yelled, “get back here.” He stalked after her angrily. 

“Lee,” she sighed, turning to face him, “I can’t do this tonight. I can’t have this argument again.”

He gripped the tops of her arms, “What is it? Why won’t you marry me? Is there something I’m not doing? Are you embarrassed of me?”

“What?” She spat, “Of course not. You’re everything I want—“

“Then what is it? I love you, dammit,” he shouted. 

“Look, let’s just take a pause. We can talk tomorrow. We’re both upset,” she placated. 

“Fine,” he huffed, stalking back to his car and driving off before Billie had even reached the woods. Wheels spitting gravel, engine revving loudly as he drove away. Billie felt empty. What had she done? 

The next day the county fair started. It was the event of the summer. Everyone was there. And Billie was avoiding Lee after their fight the day before. But he spots her. She evades him all night. He finally corners her outside one of the livestock barns. 

“What is with you? You said we’d talk today and you’re fucking ignoring me,” He spat, shoving her against the barn and caging her in. Billie refuses to meet his gaze. Tears quickly well up and spill down her cheeks. 

“Baby,” he hums gently, “What’s wrong.” His hands move up to cup her face and his thumbs wipe the tears away. 

“Not here,” she shakes her head, “Let’s go for a drive.” 

“Alright,” Lee murmured. They walk silently to the cruiser and Lee drove a couple of miles down the road before he pulls off onto a side road. It’s not really a road, more like a trail in the woods that farmers use in the spring and summer as a short cut. 

Billie has tears running down her face. 

“Talk to me,” he begged. 

“I’m late,” she sobbed. It took Lee a few moments to catch on.

“Your period?”

“Yeah, I’m three weeks late. I thought it was just stress or something,” she cried, her voice breaking. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he soothed, “I’ll take care of ya.” Lee’s heart is beating out of his chest with excitement, but he schools his features and voice to one of concern and anxiousness in order not to tip Billie off. 

“What are we gonna do?” She’s fully panicked now. Lee can hear that she’s nearly hyperventilating. 

“Shh, baby. You need to breathe, okay?” He said as he grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. She nodded slowly, breathing in and out steadily before Lee spoke again. 

“We have to tell your parents,” he began. Billie’s eyes grew comically large, she started to protest but Lee cut her off. 

“We’ll tell your parents. We’ll get married and no one will be the wiser. It’s okay,” he soothed, “I’ll be with you when you tell your parents. I promise I’ll take care of you.” His eyes shone with sincerity. 

“What… what if I’m not ready?” 

“You are. You’re perfect. Gonna take such good care of me and our baby,” Lee hummed as he kissed her. 

“Lee,” she protested. 

“Come on, sugar. You’ll be my good little housewife. I can’t wait to see you get round with my baby. You’re gonna look so sexy,” Lee groaned, he kissed from her lips to her neck as he spoke, “You’re all mine.” 

“Did you— did you plan this?” Billie asked, shoving him away. Lee narrowed his eyes at her. 

“It doesn’t matter how it happened. What’s done is done and you need me Billie,” he growled. Billie opened her mouth but no words came out. She was stunned. She shook her head back and forth, as she searched for the words. 

“You’re a bastard, Lee.” His jaw clicked from side to side when she said that. Without saying anything he started the car and drove. Billie didn’t question him on where they’re going. She knew she was in deep shit. It’s only when she sees the farmhouse come into view that she starts to panic. 

“No.”

“We’re telling your parents tonight.” 

“Lee, please don’t do this,” she begged. But he didn’t listen. 

“I wanted to be nice. I wanted to wait until after we got married. But you. You just couldn’t accept the nice future I had planned out for ya. So, if you want me to be the bastard, I will be. I’ll get you pregnant. Make you marry me.” He cut the engine and walked up to the house. Billie trudged behind him, she had no other choice. 

Lee knocked at the before Billie even reached him. Joy answered. 

“Deputy Bodecker,” she smiled, “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

“Billie and I have something to tell you,” he said happily. What a master of disguise he was. He made Billie believe, really believe that he loved her and cared for her. But he showed his true colors the second she stopped listening to him. And now he’s wooing her mother. Making her believe he’s a nice, stand-up guy. Joy’s smile faltered when she realized the Billie was with Lee, but she let them both in all the same. Lee marched to the living room as if he owned the place. 

“John,” Joy called, “Lee and Billie want to talk to us.” John huffed, but turned the tv off. He gestured for Lee to sit. 

“Clara, why don’t you go upstairs,” Joy suggested. Clara was the only one of the children home. All the others were still at the fair. She nodded and walked away. Joy sat down, but Billie didn’t. 

“Honey,” Lee chuckled, “Come sit down.” She slowly went and sat by Lee. He was quick to wrap an arm around her. 

“She’s nervous,” he said, smile glued to his handsome face. 

“What’s going on?” John growled at Lee. 

“Billie is pregnant,” Lee responded. Joy gasped. John looked like a deer caught in headlights. Billie started crying again, and leaned forward to hide her face in her hands. Lee patted her back. 

“But, I don’t want ya’ll to worry,” Lee continued, “I’ll do right by her. I care for your daughter very much. We’re going to get married.” 

John harrumphed, “You can take her down to the courthouse tomorrow for all I care. I thought you knew better than to open your legs, girl. I know you’re mama taught you better than that.” 

“John,” Joy attempted to placate, “Let’s not be unkind. Lee is going to make this right.” 

“I don’t care if he can make it right. Your daughter is out there acting like a whore,” John roared standing up from his armchair. He crossed the room and slapped Billie across the face. 

“You have one week to get her out of my house,” John said to Lee, who looked up John and scowled. Billie couldn’t take one more minute, she jumped up and ran upstairs just as Sylvia walked through the door. If Sylvia was one thing, it was perceptive. She took one look at her father and Lee and chased after her sister. 

“Now get out of my house, Bodecker,” Lee narrowed his eyes, but obliged. He would make John pay for hitting Billie. 

Sylvia found Billie crying in a little ball on the floor. 

“What happened?” She asked her sister. 

“Lee g-got me pregnant and n-now I have to get married and I’m going to be stuck here in this stupid town forever,” Billie sobbed. 

“Shit,” Sylvia sighed. Clara crawled off of her bed to join her sisters on the floor, she squeezed Billie’s hand. She wasn’t one for talking, she wasn’t good at it. 

“I thought he loved me. But he manipulated me. I think he did it on purpose,” Billie choked through tears. 

Sylvia stood up and started pacing. 

“How much money you got?” She asked. 

“About $250,” Billie answered. 

“I got about $50 left over from babysitting. And I want you to take that,” Sylvia ordered. 

“I can’t take your money, Sylvie.” 

“Yes you can. Take it. Run away. Start over.” 

“I—I—I h—have t-t-ten dollars for you, Billie,” Clara spoke. 

“Take our money and go,” Sylvia said, “Consider it a thank you for all the years you took care of us.” 

“Are you sure?” Billie looked between her two sisters. Both nodded. 

“You have to go tonight. Go to the bus station and get out now,” Sylvia started to scheme. The girls helped Billie pack two bags that night. They rounded up and pooled their money. And at eleven that night, Billie snuck out and walked the three miles to the bus station. She waited until five in the morning and bought the first bus out to Cincinnati. But she didn’t stop there. From there she took another bus to New York. She figured she could disappear into the crowd there. She could say that her husband died and that she had no family left. She could get a job waitressing. Or maybe she could train as a secretary. It didn’t matter because she felt free. 

After two weeks in the city, she wrote her family and Lee a letter. She claimed that she wasn’t pregnant. That the stress from telling them and leaving town caused her to miscarry. She said that she couldn’t face any of them now. But that it didn’t diminish her love. She refused to come home. Billie did not include a return of address. She secretly sent Sylvia another letter at her boyfriends house. It included her phone number. Sylvia would call her once a month from a payphone and then from the phone at the local grocery store she worked at. The girls stayed in touch that way. Sylvia secretly relayed the information to Clara and when Joy got suspicious, to her too. 

Lee was distraught. He’d lost the love of his life and his baby in a matter of moments. He shouldn’t have made her tell her parents like that. But he couldn’t focus on it too long, because he was soon elected sheriff. He was married to the job. Then he started getting into business with the wrong people. Those terrible men he worked with gave him an idea. An awful idea. He wanted revenge against John and he would get it. 

@greeneyedblondie44

@bxnnywriting

[hale-13]

Caliber

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 12 - Death

Peter grew up like most American kids running active shooter drills thinking (hoping) it would never happen to him.

Words: 2338, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Teen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, Various Midtown Students and Faculty

TW: TW: Gun Violence, Blood, Major Character Injury, Possible MCD (if you choose to interpret it that way)

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Growing up, Peter spent his early childhood in lower level genetics labs with his parents. Part of this was simply because they worked some weird hours at OsCorp but the other part was definitely because they recognized his intelligence and talent early and would give him easy experiments to run while they worked. Safe? Eh, maybe not but Peter had fun.

Well, until they died that is.

After that Peter would spend his time in the hospital daycare or nurse’s break room or sitting at Ben’s desk in the bullpen at the precinct where he worked. Daycare and babysitters were expensive and Peter was having a little separation anxiety from becoming an orphan at six. Peter accredits this formative time in his life to why he has a healthy respect of first responders, why he goes out every night in spandex to help his neighborhood (even if the cops hate him).

After the funeral, after May and Ben went back to work and started taking Peter with them, Ben sat Peter down to go over basic gun safety with him. He can remember that initial conversation pretty vividly: Ben had sat Peter down on the couch and had pulled out his unloaded side arm and the small safe he stored it in. He told Peter just how dangerous weapons could be in untrained hands, how Peter could easily hurt himself or others if he ever touched it, how Ben would always have it locked up but, on the off chance it wasn’t, Peter was to never touch it.

Peter had readily agreed and had steered clear of Ben’s belt and the gun safe next to his side of the bed his whole childhood.

The officers that Ben worked with were, for the most part, super nice to Peter and always took time out of their days to talk to him, bring him snacks and (attempt) to help him with his homework and Peter grew to be the most comfortable in the loud bullpen or the adjacent break room. The summer before he started his freshman year at Midtown, Ben and some of the other officers had given Peter a crash course in gun safety – how to clean, care and shoot a weapon – and it only took one trip to dash Peter’s dreams of working in law enforcement; he never wanted to handle a gun again.

Holding his uncle’s body as he bled out a few months later from the massive hole left in his back by the .45 caliber handgun only solidified that decision.

Luckily, in his tenure as Spider-Man, Peter tended to run into more sub-Ultron and Chitauri fare than the classic handguns and rifles he was familiar with which suited him just fine. When he did come across a run of the mill mugger or rapist who was using a pistol or something similar, Peter took great pleasure in using his super strength to rip it into tiny pieces – destroyed beyond repair and off the streets for good.

This had resulted in some unfortunate bullet grazes and full-on holes in his body that had prompted his helicopter mentor (under the order of Aunt May of course) to force him through another gun safety lecture, complete with a practical portion where Colonel Rhodes assisted in teaching Peter how to properly disarm and disassemble a variety of different sidearms. It was definitely cool to spend time with Actual War Machine but Peter rushed through it as quickly and throughly as possible. He never wanted to have the easy comfort with weapons that Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had – he preferred non-lethal disarmament when patrolling.

All this said – Peter probably had more experience and knowledge with various weapons (human and otherwise) than he had any right to.

All of this experience, all of his time as Spider-Man, everything he had been through did nothing to help keep him calm and collected when his principal came over the intercom while Peter was in gym class to announce a code red shelter in place order. Like most high schoolers in America, Peter had gone through numerous school safety drills so he, in theory, knew what to do in a emergency.

In practice? Not so much.

Coach Wilson had looked just as pale and stunned as the class but had recovered quickly enough to rush the doors. A few other students had also started moving to gather some of the wrestling mats to roll in front of the doors once Coach Wilson had gotten them closed and locked.

He, unfortunately, wasn’t quick enough.

Brian Anderson, a sophomore Peter recognized from the debate team, forced the door open, brandishing the small revolver in a shaky hand. His face was pale, eyes red rimmed with tears with such a desolate look it made Peter’s own heart clench in sympathy despite his rapid heart-rate.

“Back up,” he whispered, using the gun to gesture for the coach to step away and the man obliged; holding his hands up in surrender and slowly backing away from the door. Some of Peter’s classmates, including Ned who, for once, wasn’t right at Peter’s side in class but across the room from him, had started to cry. Michelle, looking stony faced but terrified underneath it all, was trying to shush Betty Brant who was in the middle of a full blown panic attack and trying not to draw attention to herself.

“Okay,” Coach Wilson said, motioning the class members closest to him to back up with one raised hand, his eyes never leaving the weapon. “You’re calling the shots here Brian.”

Brian sniffled, fresh tears spilling over his eyes and hand trembling as he surveyed the room, eventually moving the barrel to point at Mark Conley, one of Flash’s friends and a notorious online bully. Both boys had gone nearly ghost white and the class seemed to be holding its collective breath.

“Sorry Ben,” Peter thought. “Sorry Mr. Stark.”

“Brian,” he called out, voice sounding much more steady than he predicted it would since he was just Peter Parker right now and not Spider-Man. “You don’t want to do this man.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Brian spit out, anger over-ruling all of his other feelings and his eyes landing on Peter. “You don’t know what I want to do!”

“I promise you don’t want to do this,” Peter said calmly. “I know what they’re like. You think they treat me any better than you? You’ll regret this if you do it.”

Brian snorted out a dry laugh, not looking like he found anything remotely funny. “Then you should want me to do this.” He said, cherry picking Peter’s words.

“But I don’t,” Peter told him, edging closer to the other boy, making sure to put his body in front of Mark as he moved closer. “Do you know how my uncle died?” Brian, eyes locked with Peter’s, shook his head nearly imperceptibly. “He was shot by some guy robbing a bodega. He bled out in my arms before emergency services could arrive.” Peter said bluntly, doing the best to ignore how his heart clenched and his eyes burned.

The barrel of Brian’s gun dipped down to point more toward the floor and Peter took a few cautious steps forward, stopping when he was only about five feet away. “They won’t stop,” Brian whispered, the tears flowing heavier but his finger still in place over the trigger. “It just keeps getting worse and I can’t take it. I can’t do this anymore!”

“I know,” Peter said, voice soft, dropping his hands down to rest loosely at his sides. He really wishes he had his web-shooters, secret identity be damned. He was never taking them off again, no matter what May tried to tell him about work/life balance. “I know what its like and it sucks but they aren’t worth throwing your whole life away. It’s not worth hurting all the innocent people you’ll hurt. You don’t want to do that to your friends and family.”

“I don’t have any friends!” Brian said loudly, raising the gun back up to point at Peter but Peter didn’t move from his relaxed position even though he felt his heart speed up to a gallop. He faced possible injury and death at least once a week but that was always as Spider-Man… never as Peter Parker.

“I’m your friend,” Peter told him, a little desperate but honest. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Brian gasped and let the pistol drop to his side in a loose grip. “Just hand me the gun Brian okay? And then we can talk about it, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

Brian sniffed and rubbed his free hand over his face to wipe away the tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Peter confirmed, holding out his hand. Brian nodded and lifted his hand to pass Peter the gun when everything went wrong. Betty, who had been hyperventilating through the entire exchange, finally passed out. MJ tried to catch her but the two of them hit the floor with a echoing bang that startled the whole class. Brian, gun lifted and finger still on the trigger, flinched and jerked to aim back at Mark, shooting.

Everything happened in slow motion for Peter and he grimaced at what he was about to do, saying mental apologies and throwing his body in the path of the bullet, jerking back at the feeling of it hitting him in the chest.

His breath knocked out and his consciousness already becoming more nebulous from the pain that was blooming in his lungs, Peter stumbled forward to yank the gun from Brian’s limp grasp, deftly unloading it with the last of his strength and with shaking hands before throwing the rounds to the opposite side of the gym; collapsing at the other boys feet.

“Oh god,” Brian whispered in horror. “Oh god Peter. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He tried to bend down next to Peter but was swiftly tackled by Abe and Jason where he was wrestled onto his front with them restraining his hands without a fight beyond his gulping sobs.

“You’re alright Parker,” Coach Wilson said soothingly as he rolled Peter onto his back and used his own hastily shed jacket to apply pressure to the steadily bleeding hole in Peter’s chest, causing him to grunt and squeeze his eyes shut in pain. “Thompson! Call 911 and tell them we have the shooter and we need emergency services in the gym. Conley run up to the office and tell Morita what happened!” Both boys jumped into action but Peter ignored it in favor of unsteadily pulling his own phone out of his pocket and sliding it to Ned who had joined the group along with a pale and teary Michelle.

“Call Tony,” Peter coughed out, blood staining his lips and leaked down the side of his face. “No hospital.”

Ned, shaking and crying worse than Peter had ever seen fumbled the phone with numb hands before giving up and pressing the panic button on the side of the phone. Feeling relieved that his mentor was on the way, Peter let his tired eyes close only to rip them open at the flick on his nose.

“It’s not nap time Tiger,” MJ told him, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t want to get detention again.”

“I think…” Peter gasped out, his lungs aching with the strain. “Think this… get me… a permanent… ‘get out of detention’… free card.”

Michelle ran soft fingers through his hair, helping him relax his clenching muscles. He could tell that Ned was on the phone and speaking in rapid, broken sentences. He could kind of hear the sirens approaching, the sound of the building evacuating, crying students. But nothing mattered as much as Michelle. “You just couldn’t help yourself huh?”

“You know… me,” Peter grunted, trying for a grin that didn’t show the tacky blood he was sure was staining his teeth. “No guts… no glory.”

“God you’re a disaster,” MJ said with a watery laugh, a single tear escaping to race down her cheek. Peter wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe it away but his arms were made of lead.

Before Peter could work up the energy to respond, the doors of the gym were blown off the hinges by repulsers as Tony rushed the room, suited up in his full armor and clearly panicked. “Peter!” He shouted as he stumbled out of the suit, falling to his knees next to Peter and hastily began applying his prototype nanotech bandage to the hole in Peter’s chest before rolling him on his side to repeat the process with his back.

Peter gagged at the change in position, his eyesight fading out to a pinprick of light and his hearing glitching out. The voices around him became ever more harried but Peter couldn’t make out what they were trying to say – all he knew was he was really tired. More tired than he had ever been maybe. Surely no one would mind if he took a little nap?

“Stay with me buddy,” he heard Mr. Stark say as cold, hard arms gripped under his back and knees, lifting him and causing him to nearly black out again. “Just a quick little flight to the Tower Petey,” Tony said, voice wavering and not its usual strong timbre. “Just hang with me for a few more minutes and then you can nap okay kiddo?”

“Tired,” Peter gasped out, chest seizing. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Tony ordered, frantic and yelling over the wind buffeting them. When had they started flying? “Just stay awake.”

“Love May,” Peter whispered, his vision a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors that were rapidly fading. “Love you.”

“Peter!” Tony sounded so far away, Peter thought as his eyes closed against the colors and shapes and lights that were making him feel dizzy and sick.

Just a little nap.

No one would notice.

[tchallasbabymama]

Potential Breakup Fic

Yes, this is inspired by the re-release of the classic “Potential Breakup Song” by legends Aly & AJ. Check out the rest of my Masterlist HERE. Enjoy!

Word count: 2223

CW: Niggas aint shit. Kiana sat on her couch and tried not to cry into her glass of merlot. She took off her heels and got up to unzip her dress and take off her bra since she knew she wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. She checked her phone again and was met with an empty screen. No notifications, no missed calls. She threw her phone down in anger, and was thankful when she noticed the screen didn’t crack.

“I can't believe this nigga.”

She looked at the clock and shook her head. It was 12:07am, and her 25th birthday was officially over without so much as a word from her boyfriend. Just last night he had told her to be ready by 7, and she hadn't heard from him since.

They had been together, on and off, for three years. They met their junior year at Howard, but didn’t hit it off right away. He was too slick for her liking, but over time he eventually weaseled his way into her heart. His smile lit up the whole room and his big brown eyes could seduce anyone just like that. And he did, constantly. T’Challa was a huge flirt, and it was cute when they were still single and just getting to know each other, but even now T’Challa turns his charm on for every pretty face he sees. Kiana had brought it up to him many times, letting him know how disrespected she felt. He would always say the same thing.

“But entle, I’m just being nice. You know I only have eyes for you.”

She did know that once, but that ended about a year and a half ago when she was casually scrolling through twitter on his phone and caught him cheating.

“T’Challa!”

“Yes, my love?”

“What the fuck is this?!”

“Why are you on my phone?!”

“Don't fucking raise your voice at me, I’m not in the wrong here. I saw a funny tweet and started scrolling when YOU got a text from some bitch named Jasmine talking bout ‘I miss you daddy’ and sending you pictures of her pussy. Care to explain?”

He reached for the phone and she pulled it away from him.

“Nah-uh, talk.”

He sighed in exasperation. 

“If you give me the phone I can explain, sithan-”

“Don’t you fucking ‘sweetheart’ me, answer the goddamn question. How long, T’Challa?!”

“Just once. Eh, one and a half maybe-”

He was interrupted by a throw pillow to the head.

“How the fuck do you halfway cheat nigga?!”

“She just gave me head the first ti-”

“That’s still cheating!”

“Will you lower your voice? You have neighbors.”

“Fuck! Them! Did you even use a condom?”

“Yes, Kiana I’m not-”

“Stupid? You’re not stupid?” Kiana laughed. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”

“My love, I-”

“Oh now I’m your love? Where the fuck was that energy when you were balls deep in this other bitch?!”

T’Challa stood there dumbstruck. He had never seen Kiana get this angry and didn’t know what to say. He knew he was wrong when he did it, but seeing the tears streaming down her face made him truly regret what he’d done. She had been so busy with school and work that she barely had time for him anymore. He had needs and just so happened to stumble upon someone more than willing to fulfil them. 

He cursed himself for not locking his phone or at the very least, turning it over. 

“How many, T’Challa...” Kiana sniffled.

“I told you, it was only twice-”

“How many women?!”

He froze, not knowing if he should mention Lisa since that was so much earlier in their relationship.

“Oh my god...oh my god...oh my- are you fucking serious?! I-I have to...I have to go get tested, I-”

“Kia-”

“What?!”

She looked at him with such fierceness that he shrunk under her gaze.

“I-I am sorry, I didn’t do it to hurt you, I was-”

He was stopped by a heavy-handed slap across his cheek that nearly knocked him over.

“Get the fuck out.” She said, barely above a whisper.

Six months later they ran into each other in the grocery store and decided to catch up over a cup of coffee. Kiana had healed and moved on, but T’Challa was still stuck on her. They had spent almost two good years together before he ruined what they had, and he just couldn’t let it go. He loved her, and he was determined to make it work this time.

Or so he really, truly thought before he met Marci...and Tanisha...

T’Challa knew he wasn’t a one-woman man, but he just couldn’t let Kiana go. His dalliances were never serious, just enough to scratch his constant itching. Sometimes they were a one-time thing, but others stuck around if they were good enough and knew how to be discreet. No matter what though, he always came back home to Kiana because despite his trash behavior, he really did love her in his own toxic way.

However, he didn’t love her enough to double check his calendar before leaving work on her birthday, or any day leading up to it. He had forgotten what day it was, and when he told Kiana to be ready at 7 he just meant for a regular date night. 

It had been a long day at the Wakandan Embassy and Kiana’s Prince Charming needed a drink more than anything. He stopped at the first bar he came across that looked halfway decent. T’Challa walked up to the bar and caught the eye of the beautiful barkeep.

“Hiya, what can I do for you?”

T’Challa smiled his panty-dropping smile and she smiled back, revealing her perfect, white teeth. There was nothing he loved more than a pretty smile.

“Well, miss…”

“Tanisha,” she responded while using both arms to mix a shaker full of liquid courage and ice. His eyes avoided her chest, slyly watching in the periphery only. 

“Well, Miss Tanisha, I had a horrible day at work and I am in need of a whiskey on the rocks. Preferably Jack, but truly anything will do.”

“We all have those days honey. Here’s a double on the house,” she said as she slid the drink to him across the bar top with a wink.

T’Challa licked his lips and lifted his glass to her before taking a sip of the warm amber liquid. He let out a sigh and his day seemed to melt away. 

Tanisha kept coming back to check on him and they would chat when the crowd died down. T’Challa was on his third double when she came over with a plate of wings.

“You’re an angel.” He dug into the wings and made a complete mess on his shirt, so he went to the bathroom to try to wash the stain out. On his way back to the bar he noticed a very tall and sweaty man leaning over the bar trying to talk to Tanisha. From what he could see, she wasn’t feeling the conversation, but he kept approaching her anyway. When T’Challa returned to his seat she immediately gravitated towards him. This angered Mr. Tall and Sweaty, who drunkenly attempted to punch T’Challa in the face. T’Challa dodged the lazy punch and knocked him out cold with one hit. Security saw the whole thing go down, and removed Tall and Sweaty from the building once he came to. 

“What you got planned for the night, handsome?”

“Nothing at all, why do you ask?”

“I get off at 9, wanna hang out?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, now here’s a water.”

“Thank you, angel.”

By 10pm he was already halfway inside her, and when his phone started vibrating he was too wrapped up in her to think anything of it. Without looking he quieted the annoying sound and turned the phone off so he could focus on the task at hand.

Two and a half hours later, T’Challa was creeping out of Tanisha’s bed right as Kiana was sliding into hers. She had washed off all her makeup, but she didn’t have the emotional energy to tie up her hair. Normally she would wear one of T’Challa’s t-shirts, but she was too angry with him so she slept in a cute nighty she never wore. She admired herself in the mirror for half a second before bursting into tears and pulling the covers up to her head. She tried to stop crying, but the tears kept coming and she eventually gave herself a headache. How could he miss her birthday?

Kiana got up and threw on her plush maroon robe before she padded to the bathroom to grab some Advil. On the way she noticed her phone getting multiple notifications, the first of which was from her best friend Bebe.

“Have u seen this?! Sis, I’m so sorry. When we slashing his tires? Just 3 tho, this nigga needs to pay $$$.”

“What the fuck is she talking about?”

Kiana clicked the link and saw that it was Bebe’s cousin Darrell’s Instagram Story. Apparently there was a fight at the bar where he was celebrating a coworker’s promotion and he had filmed it for all of Instagram to see. Kayla stared at her phone in shock. There was her aint-shit boyfriend at a goddamn bar on her fucking birthday. She watched him punch a guy in the face on her birthday. At a bar. Without her.

She thought the kicker came when she saw him turn around and flirt with the bartender, but the story after that just about killed her. There he was, leading her out the back door with his hand too far down on her lower back to be simply platonic. Even the caption read “Ooooh someone’s about to get some ‘thank you’ pussy. That damsel in distress pussy hit different!”

Kiana saw red and almost cracked her phone for a second time tonight. 

She grabbed the remaining merlot and downed it before throwing the bottle at the picture of them on the fridge. She watched the glass shatter and cut their faces while the trace bit of deep red wine seeped down the picture like blood. She wanted to trash the whole place, but remembered she would have to clean it later. Kiana started to hyperventilate and felt like she needed to get some air when she heard the lock turn.

“Kiki, what are you doin- are you ok? What happened here?”

Kiana ignored him as she walked towards where she threw her phone, silently pulling up the story and handing it to him. She watched his face go from confused, to shocked, to fearful. No regret, though. 

“Ki-”

“Give me your key.”

“Kiana, please let me-”

“The key. Now,” she said with her voice completely devoid of any emotion.

T’Challa assumed she would be angry and yell or throw things, but this quiet storm terrified him. To him, it felt like she didn’t even care anymore. He was right.

He slowly reached his hand out and she snatched the key ring, removing hers and tossing the rest back to him.

“I’ll have your stuff packed by the morning. It’ll be outside my door by 8am. If it’s still there when I get back from work it’s going in the trash.”

T’Challa couldn’t bear the coldness in her voice. Tears rolled down his face and his knees buckled.

“Kiana, please. I can explain, I didn-”

“I don't give a fuck what you did or didnt do. You know why?”

“W-why?”

“Because it was my birthday, T’Challa. MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY and YOU forgot it. Not only did you forget it, my gift was you fucking some other bitch and leaving me lonely yet again. So no, I don't care if you fucked her or not even though I know your sorry ass did. I know she’s probably not the only one because I saw how easily you slid on in there in that video. You were way too comfortable, so I don't even want to ask you how many because it doesnt fucking matter anymore. Now you can stick your dick in every fine ass Black girl you see without remorse, oh wait...you were already doing that. So fuck you, get out my apartment before I call my brothers.”

“Kiana…”

“5, 4, 3,...” Kiana counted as she dialed her eldest brother Trey’s number, ignoring T'Challa's pathetic excuses. “2, 1… Hey Trey, I’m sorry did I wake you up?...Yeah I have a situat- oh look at that, his bitch ass is leaving-”

“I am sorry, Kiana,” T’Challa said one last time before she slammed the door in his face. He could hear her on the other side of the door explaining the situation to her brother, and when she started to cry it finally hit him. Her wails broke his spirit and more tears fell from his eyes. 

He knew Trey would be over soon to comfort his baby sister and he needed to get the hell out of dodge, so T’Challa left Kiana’s apartment and never came back. Not even for his things, which turned out to be the best thing for Kiana because she and her girls got to burn it all up in Trey’s backyard fire pit and finally release that toxic man from her life.

[pregnant-javert]

Since there are none I was wondering if you could do a mel/ruth smut fic around 1000 words?😭

Yoooooo...it’s a little less smut than I was anticipating...kind of focused more on the leadup than the actual thing, lol. Idk where it ended up going, but I hope y'all like it! Pre-canon comfort sex. Will post on AO3 as well. Under the cut ❤️

Ruth can sense something’s going on as soon as Melanie comes home. If slamming doors was possible on Snowpiercer, Ruth has no doubt she’d have done that—she stalks inside, throws her bag on the couch, changes out of her teals as if she can’t wait to get them off. Melanie’s not said anything, but Ruth can see the stress and despair clinging to her, refusing to go away. Ruth’s always been good at reading people and gauging their emotions. It was part of what made her so good at Hospitality. Melanie both loved and hated this quality, and she let Ruth know it. It’s as if a dark cloud is following her around—she keeps her head down, barely speaking beyond yes or no. Ruth wishes she could drag whatever was causing this distress out of Melanie, but she’d get there in her own time. No sense in forcing the matter. Ruth makes them dinner—it’s just goat butter on toast, but she’s tired from work, and Melanie doesn’t look interested in eating much anyway. They have it on the couch; Melanie curled up in the corner, wordlessly crunching through the toast. “I know you’re waiting,” she says sullenly once she’s finished, putting the plate on the coffee table. “For me to talk.”

Melanie’s right, but Ruth won’t say so. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” she says lightly, eating the last bite of toast. Really she wants Melanie to spill all her thoughts out, just so she could fix them, but that will never happen.

“I know, I know. You keep saying that. But I still feel bad not telling you.” Melanie sighs, cards her fingers roughly through her long black hair. She’s got dark circles under her eyes and her skin is more pallid than usual. Melanie often came home tired and stressed from work, but to Ruth this sounds like something more. “Did something happen?” Ruth asks.

“No, it’s just…everything is so fragile. Everyone is at each others’ throats, and it feels like Hospitality is the only thing holding things together.” Melanie brings her knees up to her chest, not meeting Ruth’s eye. She lets out a few tense breaths before continuing: “I go to the engine and think about the train derailing, then go to First Class and listen to them say I should disconnect the Tail. It could happen anytime. Order breaks down and we can’t bring it back.”

Ruth can barely give this hypothetical situation any thought. It scares her far too much; not just losing the train, but losing Melanie as well. With an effort, she keeps her voice steady. “Are you really worried about it?”

“Yeah,” Melanie says, then she dissolves into tears: huge choking sobs that sound like she’s been holding them back for a while. Ruth immediately gathers her up—Melanie struggles for a second, then she sags into her embrace. They stay like that for a while; Melanie crying, Ruth whispering reassurances to her. Eventually Melanie catches her breath and curls up against Ruth, seemingly spent. She’s still breathing raggedly, shaking a little. “I’m sorry,” she says in a small voice.

“Don’t. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“I wish I didn’t have to feel anything,” Melanie says, even quieter. “I wish I could just…turn my mind off for a while. Or forever.”

“Well…I can make you feel better,” Ruth says softly, her hand straying down. “Only if you want.”

“You don’t have to,” Melanie says dejectedly, wriggling a little away from Ruth. “You don’t have to step into this mire with me.”

“I want to help you,” Ruth says seriously. “If you want this, I’ll do it.” I’ll do anything for you, she nearly says, but it sounds way too intense, so she doesn’t. Melanie gives a sob, then she says, “Ruth, I…I just…go slow, okay?”

Ruth pushes her hand under Melanie’s sweatpants, feels the other woman shudder at the touch. She feels the warmth, the wetness. Ruth isn’t used to going slowly—all her other times were quick, discreet, snatches of pleasure caught in supply closets or a room in her motel. Melanie moans, her hips pressing up against Ruth’s hand. Everything’s heightened and drawn out with the slow pace. Ruth stays alert, ready to stop at any sign of unease from Melanie. She slows down even more, and Melanie whines. “I don’t have to keep going,” Ruth says quickly, her hand stilling, “if it’s not doing anythi—“

“No,” Melanie breathes. “No, don’t stop.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ruth goes back to it, working Melanie towards the point of release. Melanie’s breathing speeds up: she’s practically hyperventilating. She shifts on Ruth’s hand as if to keep her in place. Ruth feels her fingers getting slick—Melanie’s close. It will take virtually nothing for her to clear the gap.

“I don’t want this to end,” Melanie says roughly.

“Neither do I,” Ruth responds, “but you’re pretty close.” She flicks her fingernail—that’s all it takes—and Melanie’s back arches as she lets out a shuddering moan. All the tension melts away, and her body relaxes against Ruth’s. Ruth withdraws her hand, wipes it on her pants. Melanie’s giving off that warm exhausted glow. “Thanks,” she says sleepily. “It worked.”

“That’s good.” Ruth gets up, helps Melanie off the couch. “I’m sorry if it was a bit…unorthodox.”

“Ruth, the things I did…” Melanie gives a weak laugh as they climb into Ruth’s bed. “Makes this whole thing look positively tame in comparison.”

“Do I want to know what those things were?” Ruth asks, pulling the blankets up over them both.

“No, probably not,” Melanie says self-deprecatingly. “I’m serious. It didn’t solve all my problems, but…I feel a tiny bit better about it now.”

Ruth smiles mischievously. “Oh, really?”

“Sure. I know I can always come back here at the end of the day and be with you.” Melanie snuggles up to her, burying her face in Ruth’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Ruth presses a kiss to Melanie’s hair, breathing in the smell of lemongrass and engine oil. It smells like home.

[aphspain-pure]

Spanish Gold in Moscow

@hetaliamondaychallenge September 28: “Chaos isn’t meant to be understood”. 

Category: Fanfic. 

Pair: RusSpa (Russia x Spain).

Words: 2.073.

Genre: Historical, Drama, angst, shounen-ai. 

Note(s): During the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939) the Sencond Spanish Republic was completely ignored by Europe, while the fascist that had rebealed were helped by some militar forces. Spain was basically used as a test game of the military armament and strategy before the 2WW. The only country that gave real help to the Republic was the USSR. To finance the war, the government spent all the Spanish gold. 

1938

With an absolute ill look in his face, Spain, who still liked to considerate himself as the Second Spanish Republic, moved his gaze to the door that opened a few seconds before.

Nations could perceive other nations in a certain rate, so he wasn’t really surprised when the other entered the room; he had sensed him from far away, knowing he was leading to his position. Weary eyes without the so-called typical Spanish shine looked at the other, a little smile crossing his feverish face.

- Buenos días, Rusia.

Right in front of him, heavy, enormous and clearly powerful, the actual leader of the giant Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, Russia, stared back at him with his famous sweet smile. Spain didn’t have known him till a pair of centuries ago, but he knew about this certain characteristic even before personally meeting him. He heard from France, England, Prussia, Austria and even Denmark about this “gentle look monster” that was so big and terrifying in the east.

Anyway, Spain didn’t have really hated this guy even once; he was actually grateful for his performance during the Napoleonic wars, though. If it wouldn’t have been for the Russian forces, France’s troops wouldn’t have retired from his vital territory and he wouldn’t have regained his independence. He sighed, trying to get rid of the thoughts of the past.

He was now, currently, going to lose his independence against his own people, in the middle of the worst civil war he had ever have –and Spain was certainly a country that had endured quite some civil wars-.

A strong ache tortured his mind while he suffered a new wave of deaths. Every time his people died, his body would burn and a painful sensation split him in two. They were dying at that very moment, out there, in the valley of the Ebro, killing each other in a battle that had been going on for months. He nearly cried, but couldn’t afford doing it in front of the power that was standing over there, staring at him with a complicated look in his eyes.

After a few moments, Russia, still smiling even if Spain’s looks were terrible, spoke with a calmed voice. – How are your wounds? –he had asked.

A quick smile was formed in the Spaniard’s mouth, quite ironic.

- Well, my right arm has grown up again, so I can’t complain.

Russia stared at the renewed arm, where a few days ago only a stump could have been appreciated. They, nations, received wounds just like humans but their bodies weren’t actually the same. If they were cut, they would recover; if they lost blood, after resting for a while they’d be up again; if they were burn till ashes, they would start to be reborn just like a Fenix. If they were killed, they wouldn’t die.

Only another nation could kill one.

Even if Spain had lately started to question if a nation could kill itself, just like how he was feeling during these days in which he thought he was actually going to be destroyed by his own people.

Russia’s hand reached him and touched his back. He jumped for a moment, sored. He then relaxed, looking far away and not giving attention to the hands that touched his still bleeding injuries. 

When a certain happening was so bad, so traumatic, that it gave the nations nearly-coma state, the injuries would still remain bleeding some time. Sometimes it lasted days, sometimes centuries. Those were produced by the bombing, the Biltz, in Guernica, and they still bleed after a year.

He trembled, just by remembering it. The hand in his back made him shiver in pain, but it was the most comforting thing he could afford to have those days, so he didn’t say anything.

Then, he gained composure and faced the other.  - What are you doin’ here, anyway? I thought you were going back at your place for some bureaucracy stuff.

Russia remained silent.

That silence made Spain worry.

He didn’t hate Russia at all. He was nice to him, and every time they had met he could only see a true innocence behind the brute and scary dude everyone saw. He liked him quite a bit, and he lately, during his few peaceful years with a Republic, found out that he was such an intelligent and interesting chat partner. Thanks to the leftist ideology of his government the relations with the Soviet Union had been pretty good, so they had become nearly friends at this point.

He even had became the only nation helping him in this suicidal situation.

During civil wars Spain, normally, stayed apart and watched his people decide his fate. He disliked choosing between his beloved people, so que stayed aside.

This time, he couldn’t.

He had seen what happened with Italy after the Great War. The fascism grow up and ate Ita-chan and Romano completely. The brutality that came with it made Spain shiver from his position in the neighbour peninsula. He didn’t recognise his cute Italian brothers with those black shirts and that dark look in their face. Then it expanded to Germany and developed into the National Socialism, which happened to be even worse. A virus was expanding all over Europe and even reached his brother, Portugal.

Spain could have seen it coming. He even spoke with a few general of the army and old requetés, he tried to create a flexible government just to evade the incoming clash. But it was all in vain.

The military coup happened, and while it wasn’t effective, war broke out.

It may be pathetic coming from a country that used to be a world power but, this time, Spain feared his people. That’s why he stayed with the republicans. That’s why he suddenly started dying from the insides.

And while Spain was in that desperate situation, Europe didn’t mind at all and, trying to avoid a Second World War, signed a No Intervention Pact in which 27 countries swore not to intervene in his civil war. That had broken Spain’s heart, who found himself suddenly isolated and left apart, left to die alone. It was even worse when, even if knowing it, the United Kingdom looked away while the Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy broke that pact and helped the rebels. He couldn’t believe England’s coward attitude.

But it was kinda worst when he watched his closest friends actually attack him, help the fascist rebels.

First, the Italian brothers; then, Germany, Austria and Prussia under the name of the Third Reich. Portugal also attacked the Republic by sending his Viriatos and even the American self-proclaimed Hero’s Ford Company sent help to destroy him. All his old friends were against him. He, on the other hand, only received some fusils from Mexico and a few airplanes from a very scared France, who refused to send more help. The only one who lent him it’s power was the Soviet Union, or preferably Russia.

He still remembered when he had met Romano in the site of Toledo. Romano had been excited, he spoke about autarchy, about having a great colonial empire, and about things such as war being the way through the future. His golden eyes sparkled when he had, for the first time in centuries, hugged Spain.

If you join us I promise we’ll bring this to an end.  –he had whispered, while speaking about how great it was being a fascist country.

He had been then, suddenly, pulled apart by a giant body that happened to be his ally, Russia, who looked at Romano with electric violet cruel eyes. Spain could have said something to stop a conflict, but, when he looked at Roma, he couldn’t longer see his cute tomato-like crybaby. In the past Romano would have cried and call him to save him but, then, he held his gaze prideful, strong and dangerous in front of the terrible Russia.

A bombing had made them react and, when he came to himself, he was with the International Brigades heading to Madrid.

Remembering all of that made him feel sick and hided half of his face while looking at the floor with a tired smile.  

He suddenly had an urge to vomit, but he managed to stay calm and recover a moment later. – Sorry, I beg you excuse me. My house is total chaos now, no, wait… EUROPE is a total chaos now, haha…! I don’t understand how or why, but it makes me think things a way too much.

- Chaos isn’t meant to be understood.

That statement made Spain stay quiet and, then, he looked with his nearly dead green eyes at the other.

- I’m going to ask again, Russia. –he said, this time, cautious-. Why are you here?  

- You haven’t paid me to help you lately.

And if he had frozen before, this time Spain had lost all the blood of his veins.

He started sweating. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t.

- Y-yeah, I-I know… It’s just that all the gold that I’ve been keeping in my reserves has been already taken to Moscow, so I-I…

Russia’s voice was sweet but cold as ice. – You’re not going to pay for my services.

The Spaniard’s eyes opened at his full.

- No! Don’t even think ‘bout that! I’ll pay, I swear it! It’s just that, right now, my people are starving, we don’t have armament and the industry it’s all stopped. I can’t now but, when we win, I’ll return what I owe! A-and I’ll even make it double…! I’ll work hard, I swear. But, now, with all my old gold gone, I…

- So you’re not paying.

The calmed voice made Spain feel like if he were to hyperventilate. He felt like crashing. Like glass about to break.

- I’m not. –he confirmed then.

The taller man stood up, and Spain followed him, clearly desperate.

- Y-you can’t leave me, Russia! If I don’t have your help I’m lost! –after hearing those words the Slavic turned around and faced him, with his so-typical smile in his face.

- So you’ll pay me?

The brunette looked away, clearly ashamed. – I have… nothing to pay you with. B-but I promise..!

- Нет. You can pay me. –response that took an ¿hah..? out of Spain. Russia laughed in a calmed way and then, explained. – Even if you don’t have anything you still possess your body, da?

And Spain’s eyes darkened.

Ah, true. Nation prostitution.

It had been a while.

It used to be so common in the past that he didn’t know why he felt so surprised when Russia suggested it. It may have been ‘cause Russia is fairly younger than himself, or ‘cause the times have changed. He had been so accustomed to it even when he was a child that it wasn’t so much of a surprise finding out that some new power wanted to take advantage of his position to appeal to this. Spain could easily remember when he was forced to be Rome’s or the Islamic Empire’s sex-boy, or even Turkey’s or France’s. Well, he had also been like that with some nations; but, well, let he who is without sin cast the first stone, and he was also a sinner after all.  

He looked back at Russia and sighed. – Is this old damaged body worth all the gold I could have had afford to pay you weeks before? –and Russia’s aura became surprisingly pink, just like a happy kid’s.

- And much more! I’m happy so I’ll help you.

And leaned forward to kiss Spain’s forehead. Spain rised an eyebrow, but let him be, anyway. He needed help and Russia was eager to help him only receiving some affectionate touches here and there in return. There were worst things he could have had to do.

Another wave of pain drove him crazy sored and let himself drown in the straw bed he had been using before. He took a deep breath. 

Then, when the fever started to be stable again, spoke directly to Russia.

- Well, then, how about a quickie? I have to go back to the battlefield in 30 minutes and I think I could come back quite worse than now, ha ha. –he had laughed, with his shiny –and now tiny- smile.

Russia smiled back, getting rid of his Soviet general military hat while getting closer to the sun-burned skinned nation. He sat, and grabbed the other’s cheeks with a gloved strong hand. That tranquil smile crossed his happy face.

- Let me tell you this is going to be a payment in instalments.

[halothenthehorns]

Meeting Moony

An Excerpt from my Marauders prequal; We Were-  Chapter 5: Free

Remus spent the next two weeks having an incessant argument, with himself and them, about whether he should allow this. Most nights he woke up from horrors on what would happen if he didn't, it got so bad Sirius filched a dreamless potion from Pomfrey two days before and kept slipping into Remus' drink both nights, and he woke up in his bed just to keep going.

'This was the most terrible, worst idea ever, and you're going to regret it the rest of your life,' he kept assuring himself as he slipped into the empty tangles beneath the tree under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye, but there they were, waiting for him like this was just another trip to class or meeting him outside the hospital wing early.

It felt odd, not removing his clothes as he trudged after them, but Sirius flung an arm over his neck forcing him to keep up, and James only waited until they heard the whoosh of the tree start above them before he started humming under his breath. Sirius was as quick to join in as ever, only Peter seemed as worried as him and he'd bite his tongue off before he ever told them no.

His body ached in that horribly familiar way, his skin already trying to blister and twitch despite the fact he probably had a good hour before the moon was at its peak. He was hyperventilating as James reached the hatch and shoved it casually open, Sirius once more shoving him to get moving like that very first time. His hands were shaking so bad James and Sirius had to help get him up despite the fact it was barely a leg up anymore.

"Stop begging Remus, time for the big reveal," James clapped him on the back with a friendly enough gesture that actually sent him to his knees he was trembling so hard. He was trying to both not look at them and memorize every facet of them. If this was the last time he'd see them, at least they were still smiling, smug, idiots.

James took a few steps back, and Remus had to fight the urge to throw his arms around his knees and beg not to be left alone, or shove him back down the hole in one last desperate attempt, even he didn't know what his twitching hands meant by it. There was a pop, and then James' boots vanished to be replaced by four sets of heavy looking, black,  elongated cloven toes neatly dicing each foot nearly in half. The dew claws on the back were nearly invisible as his eyes began traveling up the strong, powerful looking legs, the massive black hide was much smoother than James' hair had ever been in its life and still he'd swear even the tail stuck up in the back in that familiar way just to insist otherwise.

The soft muzzle nosing his ear forced his eyes higher, and he gaped not at the four points on each prong or even the odd white spectacle markings traced in, but the familiar hazel eyes gazing calmly at him even with rectangular pupils now.

Sirius wouldn't live with himself if he let James have all the fun, and a massive bark broke his concentration and tackled into the deer, the black dog sending him ungainly off balance as one stumbled away and the canine now stood proudly before him.

He'd been the one most prominent in both versions going off in his head. The werewolf in him would either see this new one as a challenge, or be happy for a new play thing, he just didn't know himself well enough to guess. The large black dog was even more massive than Remus had gotten a wayward look at, now standing proudly in the dim lighting of the shack.

"You guys," he croaked as he felt more than anything Peter moving the hatch behind him, and he looked back just in time to see it slamming in place. None of them would be able to change back and get it open before he ripped all of their hearts out. A large brown rat sat on the ring, fur the same scruffy brown coloring as Peter's hair, grooming his whiskers for a moment before scurrying to his knee and rearing up to take a few curious sniffs at him.

His fathers warnings still rang clear in his head. Eleven years old again and begging him to have a say in his own life, he'd be a good boy at school, follow every rule, and nobody would be the wiser for it. He knelt there, crying once more, but there was no going back now, as the first crack rippled up his spine.

The three of them backed slowly away, and it was the last thing they wanted to do, as they already felt like failures as Remus began to scream. The noise was the most dreadful thing they never could have imagined, somehow tangled in a human and animal as the mouth formed first, glistening fangs in a muzzle began jutting from his face, and then he got bigger.

Even watching from six feet away the whole thing was hard to believe, his skin nearly vibrating in place as it was pulled and folded into itself while silver fur began creeping out, arms and legs cracking and repairing before their eyes, the werewolf was long and lean, they wouldn't have ever believed that had been inside Remus if they hadn't seen it for themselves as he finally burst free from the clothes and boots and towered above even James, balancing on his two legs as he let out a long, night piercing howl.

It was the eyes that truly shocked them all, no story in the world could tell them what they were seeing as the circular black pupils and amber orbs held no sanity in their depths. The snarl caused James to skitter back a few feet and Peter to squeal and dart up the nearest thing, which happened to be James. Sirius flopped onto his back on pure instinct before scolding himself and rolling back over, but continuing forward as low to the ground as he could.

The werewolf didn't attack though. He just watched, nose twitching, ears flicking in all directions as he tracked everything, and finally fell back to all fours, now with Sirius right underneath him. The black dog began licking the werewolf's lower jaw, keeping his belly low the whole time, and the werewolf actually bowed his head and gave a soft lick back on the side of his exposed neck.

Sirius sprang to his feet in excitement, but the werewolf now turned away in boredom, padding softly to begin sniffing the other two keenly. They stayed very still and let him nose all over, but the moment he was done with that, he did snarl again. Sirius darted forward while James tried to hop back again, but his rump was already against the wall, and the werewolf wasn't angry at them. He'd already lost interest.

No, he turned, and made a bite at himself.

Already in motion, Sirius tackled his side before the jaws could get a good purchase, and the werewolf stumbled more in surprise than anything, glancing at the dog once more in true disbelief. It was very clear nothing had ever disturbed him before and he didn't know what to make of them anymore than the other way around.

They had a weary stand off before the werewolf grew bored once more, and began sniffing the air. He started circling the little hatch in the ground, nose pressed flat to it in an almost desperate sort of way, but then without warning snarled once more and flashed around, his own claws batting at his stomach in frustration.

'Hungry,' Remus had always told them it was the only clear memory he had of this time. No food they would have brought would satisfy him though. Sirius again sprinted right into the werewolf, not quite fast enough as blood blossomed in the shiny fur, but he was once more temporarily distracted and gazed at the dog with some unreadable emotion in the alien face.

Then he did pounce at Sirius, but there was no accompanying growl. The two went rolling about, head butting and shoving, even rearing up from time to time and starting to flash their teeth, but they were playing. Sirius could feel it in his bones, read it in every move that was made, even as a playful growl burst from his own chest and the two smacked muzzles against each other and tried to pin the other, it was no different than their wrestling matches for years now.

The werewolf had the upper hand, he was still quite a bit bigger than Sirius and soon had him pinned, panting almost happily they'd swear over his victory, but the moment he let Sirius up he already seemed too bored to try again, pacing and circling again, sniffing the air.

So they just kept at it, all night, and things steadily got worse. James tried his hand next, darting forward and butting his antlers before skipping back, but there just wasn't enough room as the werewolf didn't even seem to want to acknowledge him, just butted him away with a paw whenever he got close and tried to attack himself again, anger, hunger, boredom, or some combination of all three kept him in constant movement that Sirius alone just couldn't entertain as their wrestling matches slowly got less playful.

Sirius recognized this and tried to retreat and submit again, but the werewolf was just growing more frustrated as the night wore on, unable to lash out at anything, he finally snapped his jaws around flesh and held tight, not caring for the high pitched dogs cry until something painful jammed into his ribs, and he released the useless pray to turn and snarl, teeth snatching onto an antler with no more pleasure, just an aching jaw.

James began bellowing in panic he couldn't get away, rearing up to try and dislodge him but the creature only went with the movement, thrashing his jaw this way and that. His sharp hooves only added to the problem, thrashing against the silver fur of the rib cage on instinct to be free, it would have disemboweled a normal wolf. Sirius was still limping and trying to get back to his feet, so Peter finally darted forward, still keeping himself precariously on James' other antler as he leaned down and bit at the werewolf's snout.

He yelped, and James was released. His own fuzzy point was spat into his face as they all retreated into separate corners for only a moment, before the werewolf tried turning on himself once more. Sirius let out his own howl of frustration as he recklessly darted forward, but when the werewolf appeared to get the upper hand and sank down a hold, Peter would dart forward and bite at anything to distract, a massive padded foot the size of him, the tail, a lip, even an ear if his head was bent right, and they'd be released, only for James to jump forward next. It just started all over again.

In the moments it was about to end they still didn't guess what was coming, he finally turned away from them in displeasure, and began slamming himself against the walls, howling one last desperate cry for freedom before he was trapped away for another month, and the whole thing flew in reverse much faster.

The cracking bones seamlessly began shrinking, the jaw collapsed and the tail vanished, his ears tufted, then blunted as the cartilage reshaped, the concave stomach and ribs realigned, and then Remus stood before them, naked, bleeding, while his green again eyes rolled into his head and he fell to the ground.

Peter had been the only one to come away without a bite, but he still traveled up the stairs on all fours, only changing back when he reached the door upstairs and throwing it open to grab the blanket and come tumbling back down to throw it over him. For just a moment, it all felt worth it, as the few bruises and scratches on Remus' side looked almost mild in comparison to the work he usually did on himself.

Then he looked up, and saw the damage on the other two. Both had felt the teeth sink past fur, blood was matted into their sides, and the two stayed on trembling fours, clearly fearing to change back until Peter darted forward and cast his healing charms on them. Even after the wounds were sealed, they waited far longer than they should have as the sun began creeping in. They needed to leave, before Madam Pomfrey arrived for him, but now came the true test of the night.

Just like everything they did, as if they'd planned it long before hand, James and Sirius appeared at once, panting with exertion, their faces bruised and hobbling painfully from side to side to be back on two legs just as much as their aching bodies, but they ripped their shirts up, and laughed. There were no bite marks visible, the werewolf's saliva and contamination had not followed them to their human bodies. Everything had been worth it.

[staruplatinum]

Wicked Game, part II

Everyone wanted a sequel to wicked game, the story I wrote for @moody-bloosh​ in which Prosciutto cheats on the reader. That story was all angst and this one is all smut.

so, enjoy 3,240 words of the reader having revenge sex with Risotto, filming it and sending the video to prosciutto ;-)

warnings: angst, slow burn, smut, creampie, gaping, dirty talk, rough sex, squirting

The hardest part was trying to survive the next few weeks. Only a week had passed, but in that time, your (now)ex-fiancee had already packed up his things and left to go live with Formaggio. Pesci had come by to apologize, and also ask for reassurance.

 “I’m still your friend, right!?”

“Yes, Pesci.”

You felt like your whole world was falling apart, and at an extremely fast rate. The sharp pains in your chest, hyperventilating, the tears - mixed with being completely numb -  it almost felt like too much to bear. It was almost as if someone had told you Prosciutto was dead - funny enough, you wished he was after putting you through this. 5 years of dating and 6 months of being engaged lead to this. He threw it all away, and you could never forgive him.

As you walked  back to your apartment one night, you slammed the door shut and made sure to lock it behind you. 

Nighttime was the hardest. The darkness always made you contemplate everything, and you hated it. For what felt like the millionth time this week, your eyes started watering once again.

How could he do this to me? I thought he loved me..

Your thoughts were interrupted, however, when you heard a dreaded knock at the door. Instantly, your body froze. You hesitated a moment, before checking through the eye-hole to see who it was. To your surprise, it was your capo: Risotto Nero. He hadn’t visited you yet since the rest of the gang had “found out”.

You sucked in a deep breath as you undid the chain lock from the door and let him in slowly. 

What an odd coincidence.

“Risotto I-” you paused, sniffling and using the sleeves of your house coat to rub the dripping mascara from your eyes. “What brings you here at this hour?” You tried to hide the fact that you had been crying. 

He shut the door behind himself quietly and spoke.

“I was using metallica to hide from the public, and I saw you crying on the way home.” He said bluntly. 

“Oh.”

“I followed you back here, to make sure you got in safe. But I assumed something may have happened. I wanted to check in with you to make sure Prosciutto was with you.” your Capo added.

You let out a big sigh and soft chuckle of sarcasm.

“Yeah? Well, he won’t be here with me. Not ever.” 

You wiped under your eyes, trying to hide the fact that you had been crying - though it was painfully obvious. 

Confused, Risotto slightly cocked his eyebrow, unsure of what you meant. Then you realized that he didn’t know what had happened..you smiled, and gently patted his arm.

“He cheated on me, Ris. and from what I found out, this wasn’t the first time either..” You began to say, feeling your tears start to water in your eyes. You looked down, trying to conceal it. “He’s been cheating on me for months. He just wants me as a housewife, meanwhile he fucks other whores every weekend. I keep thinking over and over - is it me? Am I ugly? Am I bad at sex?.. I guess I really was never enough for him.” And just like that, your tears spilt once again. So much for hiding your tears. 

Risotto took off his shoes, hat, and coat before he pulled you in for a hug. Most people would frown upon this - you hugging your Capo, but you had known him long before Prosciutto, and he had loved you long before that. 

You spent a few moments of silence in his arms, crying away your pain. It was weird, but Risotto’s hugs always felt like heaven. They were so fulfilling and calm, it truly felt like nothing bad had happened to you! Or maybe that was the serotonin talking…

After a few moments, you pulled away. “Im sorry, I-I don’t mean to cry on you I’m just so-”

“Shh.” Risotto said, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you. “You don’t have to explain, y/n. If Prosciutto wasn’t one of my most valued men, I would kill him for you. You know that.” 

Small hiccups left your mouth as you nodded, acknowledging his soft - but deadly - words as he cupped your cheeks, gently caressing them with his thumbs.

“How about I make us both some tea and we talk about it, Bella.” 

You smiled through your tears, leaning into his large palm. 

“I would love that.”

-

Risotto was familiar with your kitchen. He came here many times for meetings with you and Prosciutto. Some occasions, it was almost like a second home to him. After preparing you both a hot cup of chamomile tea, he brought it over to the coffee table and sat with you. Despite your efforts to not stare him down, it was nearly impossible to do considering his massive chest, tattooed biceps and toned torso were right next to you. 

Risotto smirked.

“See something you like?”

You blushed at his words. 

“Maybe.” 

It was a weird and awkward silence between you both. On one hand - you were beyond livid with your ex-fiancee, and you wanted nothing more than to get revenge on him. But at the same time, being this close to Risotto and having him be there for you, listening to you - it was a whole other soft feeling in your body that you couldn’t describe. Prosciutto never listened to you.

“I’m sorry he cheated on you, Tesoro. You didn’t deserve that.” Your Capo said, breaking the silence and taking a drink of the tea.

“I don’t know, Risotto. I feel like nobody will ever love me.” 

Your words hurt risotto to hear. He had known you for so long. You were beautiful, and the fact that Prosciutto made you feel anything lower than that really aggravated him. And knowing Risotto, nothing ever really made him upset - he is usually kept his cool. 

“That’s not true.”

Risotto grabbed you gently and pulled you in for a hug, inhaling  the scent of your soft hair as you laid on his chest, snuggling into his warmth. His large hand caressed your back, gently rubbing you in a comforting manner. Being with him like this caused shivers to go down your spine.He always knew what to say, and how to make you feel so good.

Then it hit you.

“Can you cuddle me in my bed, Capo?” You asked teasingly, though there was a hint of innocence in your voice. “What the hell are you doing?!” you thought to yourself while smirking. he was being so tempting. It was so perfect, laying on him like this. But at the same time, you genuinely wanted to cuddle with him. After not sleeping right for over a week, it would have been so comforting to fall asleep in his warm, safe arms. But deep down, both you and Risotto knew where this was going.

Placing your teacups down (on the coasters that Prosciutto always insisted you use-) you grabbed Risottos hand gently and guided him to your bedroom. 

A perk to living with Prosciutto was that the house was always clean, and your bedroom was no exception. It was probably one of the only things you admire about your ex-fiance, the fact that he was so clean. Your entire apartment was extremely minimalistic - something that instantly caught Risotto’s attention every time he had come to visit in the past. But now, with Prosciutto’s things gone, it had a different kind of emptiness to it. One that Risotto wanted to fill, and make a “home” out of. 

“Do you have a camera, tesorina?” he asked, keeping a straight face, while he tried to focus on his newfound idea.

“Yeah, why?”

“Go get it for me.” 

You nodded, following his orders and pulling the Camera out from the box in the closet. 

“I don’t understand why you need the camera - “ 

“Well, I can’t kill Prosciutto - no matter how badly I want to-  because he is like family to me, and he’s an amazing member of our squad. “

You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. He was supposed to cuddle you and comfort you, not tell you how great your CHEATING ex fiance was. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing! 

“But I have a better way to get back at him.” Risotto said, looking over to you and slowly undoing his belt. Then, you understood. Your snarky attitude went away and you smiled.

“Oh yeah? What’s the plan then… Capo”

Risotto used his hand to pull you by the chin, grinning down at you. “How about your Capo fucks your tight little pussy, records it,  and sends the video to your ‘ex-beloved’”

His dark eyes stared down at your smaller form, trying to see what kind of reaction he’d get from this. Risotto wasn’t the type to do something if you didn’t want to. But what other idea could have helped you? You were all alone, not eating properly, not sleeping properly, meanwhile Prosciutto was off living what seemed to be a “good” life with his new hooker every night. Plus, Pesci so kindly took him in. (more like he had to because Prosciutto gu8ilt tripped him into it.)

The look on your face said it all. It was good. It was too good. This was the safest and easiest way to get back at Prosciutto. You bit your lip in anticipation. It was so wrong - to sleep with your capo. But you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want him to destroy you. And, you really wanted to get back at Prosciutto. 

You smirked, passing him the camera and tripod, watching him set it up “perfectly” on the Vanity, which was right across from your queen sized bed. Risotto clicked the red button on the camera and before you knew it, you were both being filmed. 

“Take off your clothes. Now,”

That wasn't a question, it was an order. And boy, were you eager to obey.

As you tossed your clothes on the floor, you remained in just your lace panties and bra. 

“All of your clothes.”Risotto said, continuing to pull down his pants, leaving himself in his black boxers. You obeyed, unhooking your bra to expose your tits into the open. Your nipples instantly hardened from the cold air in the room. Your underwear came next, exposing your pussy and plump ass to your Capo. He smirked as You got down on your knees and looked up at him, fingers gently grazing across the massive bulge in his boxers. 

“So? Are you going to suck my cock or are you just going to sit there and look pretty?” Risotto asked, threading his fingers through your hair and scalp. 

Risotto wasn’t one for much dirty talk. You knew your capo as the stoic, intimidating man he was. And normally, he would never break that facade. However, finally having you like this at his mercy… it triggered something inside of him. He wanted to love you, yes. But he also wanted to wreck you and make sure that the camera got every moment of it. What better way to do that then to dirty talk you?

You nodded, biting your lip and looking at the camera - Shaking Risotto out of his thoughts once again.

“Of course, Signore.” 

Prosciutto used to beg you to call him that, so saying it directly to the camera was your subtle way to say : ‘Fuck You’, and proceed with the video. 

Risotto pulled out his big cock, completely hard and standing erect in the open. Your eyes lit up. He was so huge, how were you supposed to take all of him?

“What’s wrong, Tesorina? Too big for you?” 

You chuckled softly as he began to jerk himself off slowly. 

“Mhm. I don’t know how this will fit in my mouth, let alone my pussy .” You said, grabbing his shaft lightly with your fingers. He huffed at your statement, more or less from the anticipation of you touching him like this. As you stroked it a few times, you looked to the camera once again. “This is definitely an upgrade. Hah. and I thought 7 inches was a lot.” 

Ouch.

You both soon got over the awkwardness and shortly after you both were horny enough to do some regrettable things. You opened your mouth, having risotto place the head of his cock on your tongue, tapping it a few times before you eagerly took the head in. Your tongue swirled around it, trying your best to use your saliva to take more of him in, though, with your small mouth you knew that would be a challenge. 

Risottos hand gripped your hair tighter, urging you to take more than just the tip inside of your warm mouth, after all, you were going to want to make sure that both of you were properly ‘lubed’ up. 

“That’s good, cara” Risotto said, encouraging you to go deeper. You complied, taking in two more inches, your mouth salivating and stretching around his massive girth. Just like that, he was already hitting the back of your throat.

You giggled, looking up at him and batting your lashes as you pulled back a little - only to shove your face forward even more, taking half of his 10 inches in your mouth and down your throat.

“Fuck…” 

Risotto grunted. He was not the type of man to fall so easily. He wasn’t the type of man to give in, or even make many noises during sex. But you… you were breaking him and the two of you just barely started.

Risotto pulled his cock away from you abruptly, a trail of saliva connecting the top of his cock to your bottom lip, glistening in the low lamp light.

“Get on the bed.” Risotto said, breathing heavily. 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” You winked.

As you got up on the bed, you figured it would be best to just get in doggy style position directly. This seemed to impress Risotto, and he smiled at you. A dark smile - but still a smile nonetheless.

Risotto angled your ass so that it was facing the camera - exposing your asshole and slick pussy. He traced one of his calloused fingers along your slit, before abruptly shoving it inside. You moaned out in pleasure, catching his attention.

“That’s just a finger,” He stated.

You laughed, hiding your face in the pillow from embarrassment. 

“I know…” You added, too shy to look at him. 

He pulled your hair, forcing your head back as he added two more fingers inside of you, curling them downwards so he could hit your g-spot. 

“Oh fuck…” you breathed, sudenly overcome by the sensation of being at his mercy. 

“Keep making noise tesoro, I want to hear you scream for me.” 

All you could do was nod and moan, and before you knew it - your orgasm was approaching. 

“Ris- I-Im cumming!!” you shouted. Risotto chuckled darkly and pulled out at the last second, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. 

His cock stretched your cunt out harshly, despite all the prep you had. Though you were disappointed about being denied your orgasm, you moaned into the pillow below you. You desperately tried to arch your back up so the camera got a good angle of risotto pressing a good portion of his 10inches inside you. It took you a few minutes to get used to his length, but risotto was a patient man. In fact, he waited almost 6 years to make you his, surely this would be an easy task. 

Risotto leaned down and whispered in your ear. 

“Take it all, Tesoro. We have a point to prove.” 

His words only turned you on further, and you moaned out his name. He smiled and leaned back up, making sure to prove a point. 

Risotto’s large hand came down on your ass, striking it hard. 

“Ugh- YOURE so - fucking tight.”

“Mmn. Only for you Signore”

“That’s right. This cunt belongs to me now.”

With the head of his large cock hitting your cervix with every thrust, you were sure you’d be bruised in the morning. 

“Do you like when your capo fucks you?” 

He was being mean, asking you things when you could barely form coherent sentences. 

He slapped your ass again.

“I asked you a question, Puttana.”

You swallowed your spit and nodded.

“Y-yes! Yes Signore. I love when you fuck me. No one can compare!”

That was just what Risotto needed to hear from you, and without waiting any further, he commanded you to cum for him.

“Cum for me tesorina, cum all over your Capo’s cock you filthy whore.”

And you did, your whole body shook, and you fell forward, moaning his name over and over as you squirt your juices all over the sheets, and all over your Capo.

Risotto followed soon after, Pressing his cock as deep as he could before cumming inside, shooting his load right at your cervix. 

After Risotto pulled out, he forced you to stay with your ass up in the air. He moved around so that his cock was by your head, and his hands were on your ass once again. You didn’t know what he was doing, but it became very apparent when he hooked two fingers (from each hand) inside your cunt. He spread you open wide, chuckling darkly as he watched your pussy gape, and watched his cum start to ooze out of you. 

“Look at you, Tesoro. You can’t even keep my load inside of you…” 

You were too spent to even say anything but moan. 

“Did I really stretch you out that much?”

That question was rhetorical. Though you couldn’t see what you looked like down there yourself, you could feel it. Risotto had a big girth to him, 6inches, to be exact, and as soon as he pulled out of you - slumped over and exhausted, you felt so empty. The camera was picking up everything as well, and when prosciutto saw this tape you were sure he’d be ruined by it. 

Risotto got up from the bed and grabbed the camera from the tripod, bringing it back over to you. He focused the lens on your cunt, which was still gaping and slowly dripping out his seed. He held your ass check with his hand, admiring his work, before zooming in.

“Do you like having my load inside of you?” 

“Mnm yes capo! You know how to fill me right up. ~” you purred. 

“Good, because you’re mine now” he hissed, slapping your ass once more and turning the camera off. 

-

A few days later, Prosciutto got a tape in the mail. He watched it, with the help of melone (he was too suspicious to ever watch a video alone) and what he saw.. Shattered him.

Melone found it interesting, but prosciutto ushered him out, cussing a slew of words in Italian. 

He needed… a moment. It seemed like smoking 10 packs of cigarettes wouldn't even be able to help him, and the worst part was - he couldn’t even kill risotto. He was his superior..

Prosciutto went to the same bar he always did that night, and picked up another hooker. As he fucked her, he couldn’t help but think of you, and everything he lost because of his selfishness. 

It really was over.