#this chapter is angsty i apologize | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writersdrug · 8 months ago

Note

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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eureka-its-zico · 2 months ago

Text

Residuals Pt.2

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: You and Robby spent seven long years together until the day it ended. You’ve done your best to create space; to become invisible. You can’t miss what you don’t see. Unfortunately, the universe (Gloria and the Board of Directors) seemed to have missed the memo.

Pairing: Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x Reader

Genre: Established previous relationship, slight age gap (by about 15 years give or take), a little bit of tension mixed in with a little bit of hate yearning, cause she’s a saucy angsty fic ok

Warnings: Language, sexual themes (it's the patient)

A/N: So, this chapter is much beefier than the last. To anyone new here and my writing - I'm a long-winded bitch, so I apologize in advance 🤣. This chapter also uses slight dialogue from the show. There is a scene in this I took from my time working in the ER during the 2020/2021 pandemic. 100% this actually happened. It was traumatizing lol. Thank you, guys, so much for taking such an interest in this fic! For showing so much love and loving on this show along with me (and Dr. Robby lol) because it's fantastic and deserves all the fics and all the love! I truly am grateful and hope that you enjoy this chapter. Much Love, Jenn 🖤

Shout out to @viridian-dagger for looking this over for me. Thank you for putting up with me lol. I Love you. Also, thanks to @strangergraphics for the cute little divider.

Word count: 7524

Previous I Next

7:00 AM - 8:00 AM

You’d been staring at the screen for what accumulated into an eternity in the ED. The longer you kept staring, kept from just choosing one of the damn patients on the board, the bigger the risk grew that Dana would notice.

Or worse - Robby.

If Dana took notice of you willfully choosing to stare off into premeditated space, you were willing to bet your firstborn she’d reprimand you first and tell Robby second. She'd shoo you away from her desk with a fervor usually saved for psych patients, as if you had cooties. With your current calculations on how this morning started, either option would be unpleasant.

Whether any of you liked it or not, you were here, and that meant one glaringly - neon sign bright - reality. Robby was going to be your fucking boss for the next twenty-four hours. And not in a kinky way. At least, not the way either of you used to enjoy.

From the moment the briefing ended, the disdain at your presence made it painfully clear that you were not welcome. Everyone dispersed in true manic speed to meet the batshit energy that constantly swirled inside the Pitt. It was the place that kept on giving even when you politely asked to be put in time out - because damn you needed just a moment to get your shit together. But the ER was in its own solar system, and it required everyone who walked inside to be ready for whatever was thrown their way. You didn’t get a say - weren’t allowed to say no or ‘hard pass’, on cases that came flowing in and what dictated an emergency. You were either ready or you weren’t. You either made it or you cracked.

There wasn’t any damn structure here. Just spontaneity with a dash of madness but, in that madness, greatness could be born. Adamson always said you never knew what kind of doctor you were - the depths of your compassion - until it was tested in the blood, sweat, and fire of the Pitt.

You’d been tried, tested, and by the end knew exactly what kind of doctor you were. What kind of doctor you strived to be - like Adamson. Just like Robby. But it’d been two very long years since you’d been able to call this madhouse home. The ease of set-timed patients with a patient history readily at your fingertips had spoiled you. Every question that needed to be asked without actually asking was answered and waiting just for you to see. Pre-existing conditions or possible new ones with known side effects were readily available for you to view.

So, yeah, you were panicky - terrified - about heading out onto the floor with a thousand unknowns. It wasn’t helping that Perlah and Princess hadn’t greeted you with more than a sneer and an eye roll that’d impress your fifteen-year-old niece. Robby and his flock of med students bounded off to make rounds that lasted less than three minutes before rapids began flowing through the ambulance bay. With any luck, you’d have one solid minute to look over the board, dissect what room held the most viable case to close, and head there.

Just jump right back in and pray you didn’t fall flat on your face.

The numbing sensation that resonated earlier in your chest returned with a vengeance. It didn’t start gradually, but collided against your nerves; exploding like a colony of ants that bit and tore leaving behind flashes of panic. You tried to lead the sensation out through your hands with a subtle shake. If you allowed the anxiety to fester itself it would no doubt become housed to you the entire shift.

You were better than this. You interned in the Pitt. You chose to stay after you’d obtained a full-time position. Two years away from this damn madhouse shouldn’t have affected you this strongly but that wasn’t accounting for outside stimuli…

But looking up at the large TV monitor, new names being added to the FirstNet system with brightly colored labels, it made you want to scream. It made you feel hopeless.

Fuck. You were better than this.

The background erupted with shouts from an incoming trauma. Two severe traumas from the sound of rushing feet and Robby’s directions. You didn’t hear most of what the paramedics relayed to Robby and the med students. You did, however, catch the word degloving as they rolled into trauma rooms one and two. You did not envy the med students.

You gave your hands one last shake as your eyes combed over the patient list one more time. You’d found a possible ingestion of a foreign object by a child in triage room eleven. Simple. Easy. You were already going over possible orders to give. An x-ray was to get a better picture if the obstruction was heading downward or if an endoscopy would be necessary for removal. What signs to look for as you assessed the child while making sure they were still alert and swallowing normally. You thought of how to introduce yourself when a familiar voice thrust you back into the present.

“Forget how to read a patient board, Fullerton?”

Dana’s words were pure ice. The years of friendship and playful jokes appeared to be burned to a pile of ash. You didn’t need to look at her to know she wasn’t regarding you with a friendlier expression than Perlah had moments before.

“No,” you sighed, your eyes finally dragged from the screen to her. “Just taking in the options.”

“This isn’t a buffet, in case you forgot. I know it runs easier and less dirty for you guys upstairs, but down here time is a precious commodity.”

“I am well aware of how simple consultations can turn serious, Dana.”

“Oh, you do,” she gasped in mock surprise. She’d removed her glasses from her nose and held them against her chest. “I guess that means you should stop wasting time and do your job. Don’t want your Press Ganey scores droppin’.”

“Not that I don’t love the pep talk, Dana. I’m just curious, are you going to be riding my ass this hard the whole shift?”

The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it. The ears of every available RN and technician who sat around Dana’s nursing station no doubt heard. The verbal back and forth so early in the morning was beginning to give you whiplash.

“I don’t know, sunshine is there a reason you think I shouldn’t? You know,” she began, her body involuntarily inching closer. Her shoulder leaned in closer so her barbed words could sink deep enough to wound. “What a surprise to learn that this whole time - the entire fucking two years you were gone - you’d simply been up-fucking-stairs.”

It was in those last few words you saw it. It was so quick you might’ve missed it if you weren’t dialed in. No matter what Dana, or anyone else, said to you today, it would never compare to the carnage you’d left behind with your silence. The pain of seeing the hurt you’d left behind, sharp and unforgiving, was like a lancet; slicing through the tough hide you’d prepared for the day.

“Dana -”

Shit, you did not need your voice to crack. You did not need to crack.

Unluckily for you, she wasn’t in the mood to hear from you. A hand rushed up to brush off whatever weak attempt at placating her she knew you would try and send her way.

“I don’t want to hear it, kid. Months I was worried sick about you. Just to find out you chose to forget we even existed down here. A literal ghost walking back into our lives right when we’ve just about healed. You’re a real asshole, Fullerton.”

She lifted the glasses back to rest on the bridge of her nose. The coolness of her stare reminded you - if her final words didn’t - that you weren’t a welcome sight in the Pitt. Your presence threw off what little harmony they coveted, the family dynamics, and you knew she would fight to preserve it - to protect Robby - and everyone else in the process.

Your tongue pressed against the side of your cheek. A weak balm to cool the warring wave of emotions that rapidly replaced the anxiety that moments ago threatened to shatter you into embarrassing little pieces. Now you only felt like shattering for an entirely different reason.

Dana tore her gaze away from you and answered an incoming phone call. Whatever emotions she contended with were conveniently pushed down because she had a job to do. So did you. You found yourself wanting to say to hell with today; with Gloria and all her standards. You hadn’t agreed to be fucking public enemy number one.

It didn’t matter how anyone else saw you. What mattered right now was the glaringly obvious pain you’d caused to someone who was the Pitt’s raining surrogate mother. Who’d checked in on you, and brought extra food from home because she miraculously knew you’d forgotten yours. A friend that invited you to her family’s Christmas Eve dinner your first year as an intern because you didn’t have family to celebrate with. The woman who’d held you when you’d lost your first patient and scolded you about smoking cigarettes even though she smoked herself.

You wanted to be stubborn. To wait for her to get off that damn phone so you could try and explain, but really what could you say? It wasn’t just Robby you left. You’d chosen to abandon ship with all of them aboard a sinking ship. They never even knew they needed life jackets in the first place.

The cool stare of the nursing staff made your back itch. You needed to get away and get back to why you were here. What you were damn good at doing. Clearing your throat, you made your way around the nurses' station. The stride of your steps was suspiciously close to turning into a jog. Although, you’d never admit that out loud. The sooner you could get to the patient's room the more normal this day would be.

“Holy shit, Fullerton? Is that you?”

The chipper tone and the laughter behind it had warning bells going off in your head in a matter of minutes. You only knew one surgeon who took glee in other people’s discomfort.

Yolanda Garcia, the resident pain in the ass at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, beamed at you like the cat who was dangerously close to eating a new canary. You had a not-so-sneaking suspicion you were the canary in this scenario.

“I don’t know, Garcia does it look like me? It’s too early for you to be hallucinating.”

“Does Robby know you’re here?”

Oh, she had to be eating this up. The sheer mayhem she knew this would cause - psychologically speaking - must have been making her toes curl. She was beaming, practically euphoric from the very thought. Her feet were no doubt burning to run and tell him as if he didn’t already know.

You tried to sidestep around her obnoxiously grinning form only for her to shadow your movement.

“It’s great to see you haven’t lost that dream of auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the East, Yolanda.”

“Robby is going to flip when he hears about this.”

“Great. Why don’t you run along now and tell him,” you quipped while patting her arm. “I have patients to attend to.”

“I bet you do.”

This time when you moved to sidestep her, Garcia didn’t make any move to follow. No doubt too busy riding her broom to be the harbinger of doom all over again for one specific unfortunate soul.

“Are you aware that Fullerton is here? Just walking around the Pitt attending to patients?”

It shouldn’t have come as a shock that once Garcia saw you, she’d use you in any capacity to rile him up. Hell, Robby was willing to bet the minute she’d noticed you - whether walking or inside a patient room - Garcia would’ve encroached on your space. The two of you historically had one of the worst feuds Adamson said he’d seen between interns in years. It didn’t surprise him that even after you’d both secured your jobs within the hospital it never ended.

What did surprise him was how breezily she asked her questions. She hadn’t even taken five steps into trauma one before she fired each one off in his direction. His hands crossed his body to grip his shoulders. He needed something to steady himself and each finger that dug into the meat of his biceps was all he needed to help keep him centered. Keep his head in this room with this patient and not somewhere else.

“Yes, Dr. Garcia I am well aware she is here.”

He watched the exchange between Collins and Garcia and nodded his approval at Collin’s when she stood her ground and called for a popliteal block instead of morphine.

“Where’s the next guy?”

“Next door. He’s a bit worse.”

This was something he could do. Something his mind could piece together and work around. Robby knew medicine. Saving lives wasn’t the hardest part of his day - it was having to try and make sense of his own that held that prize.

Garcia was in the middle of giving one last instruction of what she wanted before she fully followed him into the room. Dr. Mohan and a med student, Santos, were in the process of intubating Mr. Wallace.

“How do you feel about that?”

Robby had been so laser-focused watching them place the tube that he hadn’t heard Dr. Garcia the first time. So, of course, she asked again.

“Feel about what?”

He was under the impression they were focused on the patient. He should've known better when it came to Garcia. She was relentless until she got what she wanted.

“Come on, Robby, let’s not be coy. You expect me to believe you don’t have big feelings about her being down here? You guys were engaged - ”

A split second. That was all it took for him to become glaringly aware of the room. Of all the people in it, they no longer were singularly focused on the patient but split down the middle. While Garcia effortlessly watched over the med students and their progress, she equally watched him for any sign of a reaction.

He needed to put an end to her question before she overshared information that first-day interns had no business knowing. Robby found himself itching under the watchful gazes of staff. Princess in particular he caught glancing up from where she was handing over instruments.

“I don’t see how that information pertains to anything dealing with our patients, Dr. Garcia. How about we stay focused on the task at hand.”

Robby saw the smirk on her face. A dog with a bone. That’s what Garcia was going to be like all fucking day because she was just eating this up.

He put himself back in motion - being the watchful attendee as Dr. Mohan successfully placed the intubation tube.

“I’m in!”

“Good! Well done.”

Robby could do this. He could be a doctor. He could be the attendee overseeing and teaching others. He could do this. He could do this. He listened closely as Dr. King checked for the patient’s medical history - there was none. He listened to Yolanda give off medication to administer before shipping Mr. Wallace up to CT for a scan. Once Robby was sure everything was moving smoothly, he moved around the foot of the patient’s bed to stand next to Princess.

“Do me a favor,” he asked gently, “Swap out with Jessie for me, would you?”

Their degloving patient screamed in a language no one knew but - Robby was hoping - Princess would know. He was following behind her when a familiar - and unwelcome voice - called out behind him.

“Dr. Robinavitch. Do you have a moment?”

No. He would never have another fucking moment for Gloria. She effectively used up every last moment he had left to spare when she dragged you down here. Robby was barely holding on to what small pieces of sanity he had left. He didn’t need any more shit to deal with before 7:30 am.

“Ugh, I’m a little busy right now, Gloria. One sec.”

He meant no fucking seconds but he still had to play nice, right. Robby was never good at playing politics. Adamson told him countless times it was the unseen added responsibility of an attending. The constant hounding from the administration staff and CEOs demanding doctors and nurses carried more than just keeping people alive.

Gloria followed him through the rooms and stood at the side. Her presence was a constant reminder to him that she wasn’t going to leave empty-handed.

Robby did all he could to monitor the med students’ and his residents as they made their assessments. When Princess notified him she couldn’t figure out the language, Robby took it as a small win to allow him to grab language services, giving him a few seconds to breathe.

It was short-lived.

By the time the officer walked in, Gloria had her fill of being on the back burner. She wouldn’t be ignored any longer and they both knew Robby was no longer needed. His residents’ had both patients stabilized and were finishing up preparing them to begin proper treatments. It left him the odd man out. It left him having to take a walk with Gloria.

The walking and talking was about metrics - Press Ganey scores. The endless bitching about low numbers that couldn’t be fixed without proper staffing was affecting patient satisfaction. It was easy for Gloria to pin the poor numbers on Robby, Abbot, and the entire Pitt staff. Easier to claim they just weren’t already busting their ass hard enough instead of admitting they were short-staffed in every department. That their metrics and data issues of force-fed shitty scores could be solved simply by hiring more nurses - paying better wages.

But everything Robby ever said - tried to tell Gloria until his vision reddened - fell on uncaring ears.

After everything he tried to tell her again all she latched onto was when he used the word “Pitt” instead of the official term of an emergency department. Derogatory. That was what she called it. Incompatible with institutional images.

Robby wanted to scream.

“You know what's incompatible with the institution's image? Me speaking to the media about people who code in our waiting rooms and people who get shitty care in our hallways waiting for an ICU bed for days.”

“I’ve heard about doctors who tried that and found themselves out of work.”

The thinly veiled threat wasn’t lost on him. The next words he would’ve liked to have said to Gloria in response, he was forced to cover up under a mirthless laugh.

“I know today is difficult for you - “

Fuuuck no. No. He was not doing this, especially not with Gloria. No matter what was said after this, Robby could feel the cusp of a storm riding at the frayed edges of his psyche. Knew it was there with each passing millisecond as he waited for it to implode.

“Everyday is difficult down here,” he bit in.

“Boarding is a nationwide problem. Your predecessor, Adamson, sure as hell knew that. Or wasn’t that something he taught you?”

And there it fucking was. His eyes snapped shut as he tried to rain in the tidal wave that roared in his ears. The cautionary warnings of a catastrophe brewing beneath the surface only grew louder.

It wasn’t even fucking 7:30 yet.

“Fuuuuck. Wow. Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

Gloria would never back down. She was as strong and determined as anyone Robby ever met. Under different circumstances, he would’ve found her impressive, but this wasn’t any other circumstance than her riding his ass like she usually did.

Robby shook his head again to try and clear the black dots from his vision. It was just a brief shake. His eyes skimmed across each full bed that held a waiting patient. The universe must have perfect timing with fucking with him today. In that brief look, Robby watched you appear from behind a patient curtain. A reassuring smile on your face as you spoke one final time to the family of three inside before you closed it shut behind you.

You weren’t aware he’d seen you - that he was watching. It was a split second but live wires only needed one second to find a conduit to create sparks that burned down everything around it. He shook his head to try and clear it. His gaze landing back on Gloria with a new bone to pick.

“Don’t you think you should’ve cleared it with me before you brought Dr. Fullerton down?”

Before his sentence finished, Robby could tell by Gloria’s response she found his question idiotic.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I was unaware the board needed to clear every decision with you first, Dr. Robby. Also, weren’t you just complaining about the lack of staffing?”

“I was saying to hire more nurses - not to bring down a doctor from a whole other floor.”

“A doctor who has been with this hospital for close to a decade, trained by Adamson, and you, might I add. Look, I get it. You two have…history. Which is one of the main reasons we frown upon fraternization.”

“Please, spare me the HR talk, Gloria.”

“You need to put your big boy pants on, Dr. Robby. Fullerton is staying down here whether you like it or not. Don’t like it, can’t manage the crisis or who the hospital chooses to staff down in the ER, you can either step up or step aside.”

Gloria didn’t give him a chance to respond. She gave him one last condescending look, one Robby hoped he mirrored back to her, before turning on her heels and walking away. His eyes followed her for a few seconds, debating if he wanted to chase after her. Just hand over his badge and call it quits because the feeling of defeat weighed so damn heavy on his shoulders that he thought there might be a chance he’d never get back up.

Instead, he turned to look at the nursing station where Dana was casually walking. He knew she heard the entire conversation. He just didn’t want to have to repeat what just occurred or discuss it in the slightest.

He stuck his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and was ready to return into the fray because he could handle that. He could help patients. He could be the doctor they needed. Before he even moved a step Dana motioned for him to come towards the desk.

The little devil on his shoulder warned him that he might end up regretting it.

“You know, Robby, I’ve been thinking - “

“Why do I feel like this isn’t going to go well,” he sighed.

Dana simply waved him off before she continued.

“You aren’t being very realistic on the whole, ‘stay in the triage only’ demand. You want her to just waste her skills by only helping out in the front?”

“She won’t be wasting them,” he huffed.

His hands reached out to grip the edge of the counter. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He did not want to have this conver -

“I think you’re just hoping that’s where she stays so you don’t have to see her.”

“One can dream, Dana.”

Robby did not trust - nor like - the coy look he received in response to his words.

“Who am I to get in the way of a man’s dream?” She replied, her eyes examining him in a way he hated. No one could hide anything from Dana. “Although, if I know you -“

“Dana -“ he warned.

“ - I would be willing to bet -“

“Dana, I’m being serious -“

“ - that you want to see her.”

“Now why would I want that?”

“You’ve been scanning the halls every few seconds since we’ve been talking, Robby. I don’t think you’re admiring the wonderful view of bodily fluids and stale piss scent.”

“Alright I’ve had enough of your idea of what I’m assuming is a half-assed pep talk.”

“Just…be honest with yourself, Robby. You both got a lot of unresolved tension with a dash of a shit ton of issues. Probably be better to hash it out when you can, and in private, instead of exploding in front of interns or patients.”

Robby wanted to question if she was willing to do the same. Would Dana be able to have you come to the desk for patient transfer information, for updates, calls; and for everything and not be as affected as he was? Robby remembered he wasn’t the only one who’d lost you - felt lost without you.

Robby wasn’t ready to confront you. Hell, he wasn’t ready to be alone with you and try to talk like civil adults. He wasn’t there yet and maybe he wouldn’t be. What he could be was an attending physician. He was great at that.

He could do that. Everything else would just have to wait.

Upon further examination of the little penny swallower in 7 North, he showed no signs of abnormal drooling or trouble swallowing. Palpitating the stomach didn’t have any response of abdominal pain or tenderness. With a few more questions about possible fever or trouble breathing, you felt confident in informing the family an x-ray would be needed just to verify the penny was making safe travels down to be…expelled. Easier and less invasive to exit that way.

You told them once you were notified the x-ray results were ready, you’d come to speak to them about the next steps. Hopefully, it meant they could be discharged in an hour or less. Which meant you had an hour to kill between waiting for the results. After reading the chief complaint on the board for 12 South, you thought it was a solid contender for a quickie.

As it turned out, it was the worst idea you’d had that morning.

When you pulled back the curtain and began the examination, what you’d found waiting for you under the dressing gown wasn’t on your bingo card. Actually, it should never be on anyone’s bingo card. Not ever.

You’d tried to come up with any other option than needing to consult Robby. He didn’t want to see you throughout the day - ever. It was a sentiment you equally shared with him and one you happily would’ve avoided except…you need the advice.

You need to present the case and get some solid, solid advice and, quite possibly, traumatize him in the process. You couldn’t be the only one subjected to seeing what you saw at freaking 7:37 in the morning. The only issue: you had no fucking clue where he was.

In true Pitt fashion, doctors were bouncing from one room to another. Already you’d heard McKay call earlier about needing a crash cart. When you’d run out to assist, Mateo, a newer RN you’d yet to meet let you know they had it - if you were needed they’d call.

You also knew that after 7:30, rigs would be bringing in elderly patients from the nursing homes. Another thing that would keep Robby busy and make it near impossible for you to try and consult with him. It was already going to be a battle just to keep him from turning and bolting in the other direction when he saw you.

This limbo of time left you a few minutes to run to the break room and take a blissful sip of your more than likely room-temperature coffee. It didn’t matter: caffeine was caffeine and you would take it any way you could get it. You just had to make one last pit stop before you disappeared.

You circled the nurses' station and found the exact nurse you were looking for sitting at one of the station’s computers. You had to hand it to Perlah, whether she saw you coming or sensed your presence like a disturbance in the force, she refused to glance up from the screen. Her eyes scan over something repeatedly as her fingers pound into the keyboard.

“Perlah, have you seen Robby?”

She still wasn’t looking up.

“Nope,” she replied, popping her P heavily.

“If you do see him, can you let him know I’m looking for him?”

“Nope.”

Your lips tucked into a grimace as your gaze peered over the edge of the computer. Perlah’s eyes didn’t lift once.

“Okay. Great talk.”

“Mhmm.”

Yeah, today was off to a really fantastic start.

There wasn’t any point hanging around the nurses' station for longer than was embarrassingly needed. You took the loss in stride, and by stride, it meant with a heavy sigh of defeat that had your feet dragging that defeatist attitude into the breakroom. Where you found one of Robby’s newest med students sitting at the break room’s table.

If you felt defeated, you weren’t sure what the proper word for her would be. She looked like a reprimanded child instead of a doctor. Her small frame was tucked in tight, like a fetal position with her forehead almost completely collapsing onto the table.

You weren’t able to catch any of their names earlier because you all but missed morning rounds. All you knew was she was one of Robby’s four interns and by far the youngest from the looks of it.

You eyed her warily as you moved towards the side counter. You’d stashed your coffee on top of the microwave and, once in hand, immediately brought it to your lips for a long pull.

Yep. It tasted as good as you thought it would.

The girl brightened once she realized you’d entered. Her nerves had her eyes darting down and back up again seemingly unable, or just not comfortable enough, to keep them trained on you.

“You’re one of Robby’s new med students today, right?” A timid smile rose and fell on her lips. You watched while she tried to make out if you were friend or foe. In an attempt to prove the former, you offered up a warm smile as you introduced yourself.

“Victoria Javadi - MS3.”

“It’s a pleasure, Dr. Javadi. May I ask what you’re doing in the breakroom instead of out in the Pitt?”

Your question was meant to be that: a simple question. No ulterior motives were waiting in the wings especially not the lecture Adamson gave you your first year when he caught you napping in here. But your simple question extinguished what little bit of life had lit up in the young girls’ eyes.

“I - I - my foot hit a gurney during Dr. Collin’s and Dr. Langdon’s demonstration on the degloving patient. It was nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. Whatever happened was everything to her and not in the best of ways.

“That’s okay. It happens,” you shrugged. “I stuck myself with a needle once.”

“Really?” She asked, her voice timid and eyes unbelieving.

“Oh, yeah. My second year of residency too. The patient became combative while I was trying to administer the medication. The needle got jammed in my clavicle.”

You couldn’t believe it - it earned you a laugh. A nervous one, but it was still a laugh. You watched her as she brightened and dimmed; a constant flux of warring thoughts that you weren’t sure which side was winning.

“Whatever happens out there, don't let it get you down. We never stop learning as human beings or as doctors. Everyone out there has made a mistake in some capacity. Hell,” you snorted as you pushed off from the kitchenette’s counter, “Michael got hit with a bedpan once.”

“Michael?”

God, you’d gotten too familiar. Your memory of that day makes you have a Freudian slip into the days you called him more by his first name instead of his nickname.

“Oh, uhm, Dr. Robby. I’m going to head out but if you want, once you’re done here, you can come find me. I’d be more than happy to teach you.”

“Thank you, but I’m sure Dr. Robby is just having me take a break. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

You were tempted to tell her to come find you anyway, just in case. In case it didn’t go how she thought when she did finally check back in with Robby. Whether she verbally agreed to the offer or not, you hoped she knew it was still there. This was a teaching hospital after all.

Dana and Robby were walking back to the nurses' station. He’d just gotten one major surprise of finding out Javadi was Eileen Shamsi’s daughter and while he was all for surprises, that was one he'd like to have been prepared for.

Just like Dana had warned him, via Perlah, that you were looking for him he saw you standing there waiting. For him. He’d had all of five seconds to come to terms with the fact you were both about to have your first direct conversation in over two years. After two long years of no contact, it was about work.

He should’ve been happy it was just about work and not all the other bullshit that’d accumulated over those two years. He should’ve been fucking thrilled, but he wasn’t. Robby had so many questions - so many things he wanted to say. There was so much to say - to ask - and instead here he was preparing to discuss something easy.

Robby and Dana split up at the middle entrance. She returned to man her station in the center of this circus, while he came up to stand beside you leaning against the nurses' station. Your fingers tapped on the counter while your chin rested in your other hand.

“Something’s got you deep in thought.”

Robby knew the answer - knew it because outside of himself, outside of Jake, you were the only other person he knew inside out. Your fidgeting fingers, a tick he knew well, would tap out a Morse Code of a problem you were trying to solve. The faster the tapping, the closer Robby knew you were coming closer to asking for his opinion. You’d done this all the years you’d worked together and at home when you couldn’t decide if oregano was an okay substitution for Italian seasoning.

“Cock rings.”

“Excuse me?”

Robby could feel his eyebrows skyrocketing towards the ceiling. He rocked forward and back on his feet while the fists he’d buried inside his hoodie pushed against the fabric. His body subconsciously leaned towards you because, well hell, he couldn’t believe those two words just left your mouth.

He hated that his eyes caught the slight uptick in the corner of your mouth. The same corner where all your sarcastic ass smirks originated before they blackmailed their way to full-blown smiles. What Robby hated the most was how that small bit of familiarity took a sledgehammer to the carefully constructed walls he’d built. Fucking hated how his lips betrayed him by beginning to match the playfulness in your eyes. Loathed entirely how his heart did somersaults like he was a teenager again and the girl he’d crushed on just looked at him like he hung the stars.

“Cock rings.” You said it like it wasn’t the lewdest thing he’d heard all day. Simple. Matter-of-fact. “What do you know about them?”

This was fucking absurd, was all he could think.

“Uhm, why exactly is this your question?”

“Jesus, Robby, I’m not asking if you’ve used them. My patient in 12 South - was brought in by his mother for supposed swelling and pain in the inguinal region. Upon examination, found he attached sixteen key rings as makeshift cock rings along the length of his penis.”

His brain was still in the process of trying to comprehend the scenario you’d just fed him. That was his excuse for his eloquent reply, “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“I sincerely, with my full chest, wish I was. He’s traumatized. Mom’s traumatized. Shit, I’m traumatized, but I can’t figure out a safe alternative to removing the rings without causing damage.”

“What are you two discussing?”

Dana seemed to arrive at the best and worst possible moment because Robby didn’t know how to answer that question. Apparently, you had no problem informing her it was -

“Cock rings.”

Robby wondered if Dana’s stunned-to-silence expression was how he’d looked earlier.

“Well, shit, Fullerton this is the wrong department for that - “

“It’s my patient in 12 South. He decided to MacGyver himself some cock rings out of key rings.”

“What about MacGyver?”

Langdon slid a tablet back on the charging station - gaze laser focused between you and him. One of Langdon’s brows rose in silent question that Robby could only answer with a shrug.

“I’m sorry but who is MacGyver?” Dr. King asked, eyes shifting with expectation between the four of them for whoever would give up the answer.

“MacGyver’s an old 80’s TV show where the detective guy gets himself out of sticky situations by using random stuff.”

“Random stuff?”

“Anything eye level,” you quipped.

“Okay, anyways, Fullerton,” Langdon butted in, “What’s with your MacGyver patient.”

“Cock rings.”

Robby swore if he heard the words “cock” and “ring” come out of your mouth one more time he was going to fucking combust.

“Cock…rings?”

From how green Mel looked after stuttering out those words, Robby was sure he wasn’t alone in his earlier sentiment.

“They say it’s meant to enhance stimulation by restricting blood flow to the penis. I’m pretty sure men buy them because it enlarges the penis making it thicker with the possibility they’ll last longer in bed. You can currently pick one up on Amazon.”

“Jesus,” Dana mumbled.

“Really?”

Mel took a giant step closer to the edge of the desk. Her earlier discomfort was removed by the idea of garnering new information. The warning signs were blaring loudly when you whipped your phone from your scrub's back pocket.

“Oh, yeah and they come in different styles of materials - “

“Oookay.” Robby heard more than enough. If he was being honest with himself, fuck he hated how it bothered him hearing you talk so casually about sex toys. Toys he knew, for a fact, the two of you never used because he never needed the extra help. He knew every inch of your skin; how you liked to be handled and touched. Could recall with crystal clarity the plains of your body, mapped out to memory by his hands, by his mouth, and the way your breath would hitch just before a moan slid past your lips. If any asshole was touching you now - he wasn’t fucking doing it right. Clearing his throat - and his fucking head because Jesus H. Christ - he rested his forearms on the counter as he leaned closer to you. “Can we please move past showing my med students unnecessary sex toys?”

Robby was leaned down enough that the next time you looked at him it was direct. Direct and ready to challenge him every step of the way. A spark of some hidden remark you were burying back under your tongue brightened his favorite color of iris.

“Squeamish, Michael?”

And there it was again. That fucking smirk.

The use of his name falling so casually from your lips was a gut punch that stole the air from his lungs. He couldn’t stop the pinch of his eyes that narrowed in on you.

Did you just lean closer?

“Not particularly, no. I am, however, making sure we aren’t having an unnecessary conversation that doesn’t pertain to the care and wellbeing of our patients.”

“Sex education is fundamental education. Dr. King asked a question and I was teaching. This form of teaching does pertain to my specific patient who used a similar style of material usually made for this particular toy and, because of lack of education, thought key rings would be a supplementary alternative rather than a safer one. In showing Dr. King the types of materials safely used, and how obtainable and discrete it is to get one, she could educate someone else if she finds herself in a similar situation. Also, it’s 2025, Dr. Robby - we don’t kink shame here. We educate on safe sex practices.”

“Here, here!”

Robby shot a look in Dana’s direction and caught the wisp of a smile before she turned away.

“What a great speech just to cover up your kinks, Fullerton.”

Robby couldn’t tell if Langdon was trying to bait you on purpose just to rile you up or to get you to slip up. He got neither in return.

“You found me out, Frank.”

“Alright, enough.” He needed to cut in before you both went back and forth in an endless loop of who could irritate who the most. It was just a little over half an hour into the shift. “Dr. Fullerton, is there anything else?”

“Ugh, yeah. You still haven’t given me your opinion.”

“Because you never asked a specific question,” he reminded you.

He watched you consider his words; your lips rising into that small pucker. It was your tell that always let him know the debating was over and you were ready to listen to what he had to say.

A part of him hated the familiarity that rested between the two of you. Fuck, you hadn’t changed. Not in any way Robby was able to notice. It was barbaric; and painfully unfair that every mannerism and every glance housed years’ worth of memories. The most painful part of being reminded was the remembrance of loss.

Loving you had been as easy as breathing for him. Until it wasn’t.

The communication the two of you held so easily for years was torn apart during the pandemic. There was too much happening and not enough support mentally when the PTSD started. When the sleeplessness and hopeless feeling began to press a weight down on his chest - his existential crisis bloomed red and bright. Robby didn’t know how to stop the bleeding.

And then you…you’d…

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Your words cut through the fog in his mind, bringing him roaring back to the surface. “If you have a few moments, I would like to get your opinion on my patient and what you think will be best for this particular…situation.”

Robby pushed his arms off the counter. An arm swept out in the direction of the hallway south to indicate you could lead.

“Alright. Let’s see what you got.”

You clapped your hands together before you took a step forward. You hadn’t expected him to agree and the giddiness at winning a battle - or not having to fight one? - intoxicated him. A ghost of a smile tilting the edges of his lips unwillingly up.

The two of you’d made it about five feet before Myrna rolled herself from beside her latest haunt.

“Hey Sugar Tits, where are you skipping off to?”

“Myrna, I’ve expressly told you, my name is Dr. Robby.”

“I’m not talking to you, Fruitcake.”

“It’s me,” you whisper to him before returning your attention to Myrna. Never stopping. Always moving. “I can’t talk now, Myrna. I have a patient.”

“You always say you have a patient,” came her gruff reply.

It was the first hint her chipper demeanor was about to expire.

“Yes, because this is the ER; where I work.”

“Fuck you.”

“Nice talking to you again too, Myrna.”

The walk to 12 South wasn’t quick enough. Every step and moment he spent walking beside you sent a flood of memories rushing to the surface. Robby didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to pretend you hadn’t shared a life - that he hadn’t spent time loving you in every way he could.

“Fruitcake, huh?”

Your words cut through his thoughts and, at first, he’d been grateful for the interruption. Grateful until Robby noticed the teasing gleam in your eyes. How he could spot the mischief that darkened your eyes and didn’t have enough time to prepare.

“Don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled.

He didn’t need to look to know you were side-eyeing him.

“It could be worse.”

“Oh, no I doubt that.”

“She could call you something less delicious.”

His hand was mid-reach to pull back the curtain. Your sentence pulled him short and forced him to look down at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“You think fruitcake is delicious? Nobody thinks fruitcake is delicious.”

“True, but it’s arguably better to be called a shitty holiday dessert than, say, something like cocksucker,” you shrugged, moving yourself around him to push behind the curtain.

He was supposed to be angry with you - and he was. He fucking was but…it was easy, almost too fucking easy, to forget the last few months that led up to what dissolved your relationship. It was easy to forget you’d both broken each other in different ways. Robby should’ve hated you, but he couldn’t, and, because of that, he was grateful you couldn’t hear the chuckle he tried to shake away before he followed in after you.

____________

As always thank you so much for your support and for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! Much Love,

#Residuals #ongoing series #the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #michael robinavitch #dr michael robinavitch #dr robby #dr robinavitch #dr robby x reader #dr michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby x oc #michael robinavitch x oc #dr robby x you #michael robinavitch x you #noah wyle #saucy angsty babies

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thewritingfairy · 2 days ago

Text

↪ 07. An explosion of emotions

PREV PART trigger warnings: anger, medical + emotional neglect, shouting, Reader loses their shit because Jason triggers their fight and flight, mental breakdown, mentions of wanting to die, basically a very angsty and dark chapter misgendering (Reader isn't out yet), introduction of a dc character main m.list series m.list

Ignorance is bliss, and you wish you kept that ignorance. After Maria sent you an article that has been logging Penguin crimes, you just couldn’t help but research them obsessively as you walk back to the manor.

You wince as you see a mugshot from your supervisor flash by. Yeah, you are closing this article and forgetting everything you read. The job pays well, and when you get into university you’ll just quit and get a job or two on campus. It will most likely be shit pay, but at least it wouldn’t morally weigh on you. “Just until you can move out,” you mumble as you open the front door. “and the colleagues are kind…”

When you walk through the door, there was Jason, you try to ignore him. Swimming in your thoughts, yet to notice how impatient he has been, how irritation was brewing in the air.

“You and I are going to have a chat about your behaviour towards Alfie,” Jason says, snapping you out of your thoughts and your eyes snap up to his. You could feel your heart start to pound, why was Todd speaking to you. “and before you refuse, we are going to the park.”

He looks irritated, but his eyes aren’t that glowing green. They are dull, not the vibrant colour that haunts you every time you close your eyes. “...No…” you assert, picking the skin around your fingers, your posture slumped and you look terrified. “I see no need to go anywhere with you, I see no reason why you would need to speak to me about my behaviour.”

He just sighs and shakes his head. “My god, I suggested a public area, we need to talk because you’re a disrespectful piece of shit. Stop being a---”

“No. We don’t, and you are the piece of shit! I am just done taking everyone’s bullshit.” you interrupt, your tone harsher and your stance more confident than before but you still look pathetic to Jason. You still look like the same teen he beat up that day, sure your eyes are harsher and your body is littered with scars he gave you. But you are still the same pathetic child clingy to the memories of your mother. “You have yet to show remorse for your actions after all these years, I will never be alone with you again.”

He scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s not like he could deny that the apology was insincere, and he still feels little to no remorse. He sighs; “It was years ago, grow up.”

“Why don’t you fucking grow up!” you suddenly shout, throwing your bag on the ground. The echo of your shout loud and you could hear doors open. “You beat up a child! I was barely a teen and you still can’t fucking apologise! You still can’t look me in my eyes and admit what you did was wrong! None of you can! I was attacked by my supposed brother in my own room!” You could feel your muscles tense as your pain intensifies, anger is a painful emotion to have. But to hold it in is even more painful. “You destroyed most of what I had left of my mother and her family! Why?! Because you were jealous that Bruce took in his recently orphaned biological child?!”

You step closer to Jason, your eyes are scaring him, you look like you are in pain. But at the same time you look vengeful. You look like you’ve been pushed to the limit. “You don’t understand,” he hisses, stepping closer to you. He won’t be intimidated by a civilian.

“Then fucking let me!” you shout, basically spitting it out. Your nose flaring and your hands shaking. “You all tell me that I don’t understand, yet you all tell me that I have to forgive and forgive as you tear my heart out! And I am done! I am finally getting my life together, finally taking the next steps. And now you suddenly want to talk?! But you still refuse to explain?!”

You laugh, it was hysterical. If Jason didn’t know the laughs of the Joker, intimately, he would compare them in a heartbeat. Without thinking he grabs your arms, trying to force you away from him. Your siblings were watching the fight, he didn’t want to turn around to see Stephanie, Cassandra and Barbara. If he did, he would see their confused faces. He would see how they don’t understand your anger, and he would see Tim finally telling them the full story. A story that Cassandra had deciphered from just your shouting. A story that made it seem like you were in great physical pain.

“None of you have any rights to my time!” You shout, trying to get your arms lose from Jason’s grip. “And you have no right to touch me!” But Jason still didn’t let you go, you want to keep shouting, you want to shout at him until he let’s you go. Until he realises what harm he has done to you. Until your whole family finally realises all they’ve done, why did Tim seek you out? Why couldn’t Alfred just leave you be?! Why couldn’t you just keep your anger hidden until you were gone?! “Stop touching me, I hate you. I wish I died that day! I wish I didn’t have to live like this!”

You weren’t even shouting at him anymore. You were shouting at all of them, you were shouting about everything they’ve put you through. But you were also finally letting out the emotional pain your illness has given you. You’re shouting to the heavens, you are shouting to whoever will listen. You are shouting because the pain has finally become too much to handle.

The straw that breaks the camel's back has finally come.

You’re like a bucket overflowing with water, you are full of emotions that Jason had never seen you express. The only time he has ever seen you shake like this was that day, oh gods, what has he done?

You’re broken in ways he will never understand. You are in pain, and he’s the reason why. You are slipping, you’re breaking down and he doesn’t know what to do. “Step away from them,” he suddenly hears Duke’s voice, a boy that Bruce had recently thought about adopting, a meta that joined their ranks. Wait, is he calling her, them? “before I knock your teeth out.”

Jason steps backs in shock, his hold of you disappearing, but you didn’t even notice. Your hands going up to your shoulders as you start scratching. Oh my dear, you look crazed, you look as if you belong in Arkham Asylum. And Duke, he looks like he knows you. “(Name)” Duke whispers, trying to get you to stop scratching yourself. It almost seems as if you were trying to scratch away your pain, and by the gods, you were attempting to. Your fingertips bleeding, your eyes full of tears. “I am here, it’s Duke, your lab partner, what can I do for you?”

“I need to die,” you whisper, your eyes snap to his. “can you kill me?”

“You know I can’t,” he whispers, brushing some of your hair out of your face. Carefully making sure that his fingers don’t get tangled in your hair, if his fingers were to do that you would panic even more. Your mind would set you back even more, at least now you seem partly lucid. “but I can and will listen.”

You choke on a sob, and tears start streaming down your face as you slowly stop scratching. You barely know him, and here he is in your home (for whatever reason unknown to you), offering his ear to you. “What’s going on?!” Jason whisper-shouts, staring at Dick for guidance. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to act, not with the slimy feeling in his chest. Not with this voice in his head whispering that this is all his fault. Dick stares at him and mouths; ‘I have no idea’

But you ignore it all.

“You promise?” You ask Duke, your eyes show how scared you are to be hurt. Your body language defensive. Black spots were slowing clouding the corner of your eyes.

“I promise.”

And with that you close your eyes.

NEXT PART Notice how I was in a dramatic mood here?

taglist: Taglist: @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways (is there a limit with tagging people or something???)

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sashaisready · 8 months ago

Text

Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes.

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now.

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was.

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence.

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with.

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes!

And he did.

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them.

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion.

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it.

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today.

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring.

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall.

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later.

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street.

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress.

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable.

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone.

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone.

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough.

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really.

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore.

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still.

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming.

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home.

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet.

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life.

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be.

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved.

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did.

You just wished you weren’t always right.

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time.

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked.

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them.

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier.

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear.

But it would do for now.

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in …and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up.

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor.

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private.

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have.

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight.

And you slept. And slept.

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t.

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did.

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve.

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic

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singmyaubade · 5 months ago

Text

Cindy Lou Who

james potter x slytherin!female!reader

summary: you and lily have been polar opposites from birth, disconnected in everything. but when the one thing she has crosses the bounds, you can't avoid it even if it destroys you.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing , jealousy

a/n: so this is the winter special, yay! this chapter is kind of a teaser/chapter 1 but the next chapters will be longer and more angsty with james and y/n.

i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

chapter 1

You Loved Lily.

It wasn’t a strange or unusual thing to say—it was simply the truth.

Most people would have expected the two of you to hate each other. To be cold, distant, maybe even hostile. After all, she was Gryffindor, and you were Slytherin. In their eyes, that was all that mattered.

But you never saw it that way.

Lily was your sister—maybe not by blood, but in every way that counted, you knew she was. You’d been adopted into the Evans family at five, after the tragic death of your parents in a horrific house fire. Most believed it was because they had refused to bow to the Dark Lord's ideals, but no one could prove it.

Before that, your parents had distanced themselves from magic, moving next door to the Evans family, where they quickly became as close as family. And when they died, arrangements had been made for you to be adopted by the Evans family, should anything ever happen to them.

This had been because all your blood relatives believed in the same blood supremacy and Dark Lord bullshit your parents had fought against.

And you were glad to have been embraced by the entire family, maybe not including Petunia.

It was only a small blessing that you and Lily both received your Hogwarts letters in the same year. You’d felt for Petunia—who had never been particularly warm toward you—but Lily had always welcomed you with open arms. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable.

The train ride to Hogwarts had been full of excitement—laughing over exploding bonbons, discussing what the Sorting Hat might decide for you. It was supposed to be the start of something unforgettable.

But then the Sorting Hat made its decision for you both.

Lily was placed in Gryffindor.

And you, despite everything you’d hoped and fought for, were sorted into Slytherin.

The moment the Hat’s decision was final, it was like a wedge had driven itself between you and Lily. It felt as though the very essence of who you were had been split down the middle: she was good, pure, and noble—Gryffindor. And you? You were suddenly cast as the enemy, the ‘dark’ side.

It was devastating.

At first, you tried to stay close to Lily. You would try to hang out with her at breakfast, walking with her on her way to classes. But it didn’t take long before everything started to unravel.

The argument that broke you both came in third year, right after the winter holidays.

“Lily, I would never have let Snape call you that!”

You were furious, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you faced her, desperate for her to see the truth.

How could she not see it?

But Lily’s eyes were filled with hurt, the same hurt she’d worn for weeks.

“You’re friends with his kind,” She spat, her voice breaking as she said it, the words full of disappointment. Marlene, Mary, and James stood close by, eyes narrowed, almost as though they were guarding her from you.

You felt a surge of anger. "I came here to comfort you, and none of my friends believe in that bullshit! You’re being irrational!" The words slipped out before you could stop them.

James stepped forward, his eyes burning with contempt. “I think you should leave. Snakes aren’t appreciated here,” He said, his voice dripping with venom.

It stung. More than the insult itself, it hurt that James was speaking for Lily.

You scoffed, looking at her one last time before turning your gaze back to him. “I think this is between me and my sister, not her fanboy,” You snapped, trying to hold back the trembling in your voice. Then, more softly, you added, “I would never let anyone call you that, and you know it. I would’ve stopped him. Why are you acting like you don’t know who I am?”

There was silence. You waited, your heart in your throat, hoping for some kind of response. A softening of the tension. But nothing came.

Lily didn’t mutter a word.

Instead, she looked down, her face hidden in her lap, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Fine,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. “I don’t need this.” You turned sharply, your heart heavy as you strode away from her.

It was never the same after that.

Lily had tried to fix things. She reached out time and time again, but you couldn't find it in yourself to forgive her. Yeah, you were kids but she didn't believe you, and in a way, that hurt in a way you couldn't explain.

As time went on, you found comfort in the only people who understood your world: Pandora, Regulus, Evan, and Barty. They didn’t judge you. They accepted you, as you were, and that was enough.

You missed having a sister, but you couldn’t help but think how different things were now. Now that you were in your seventh year and she was a Prefect, getting top marks, it hadn’t been a good time.

And now, seeing her laughing with the Marauders or walking through the halls with her Gryffindor friends, the gap between you both seemed impossible to bridge. She had changed. You had changed. And even though she gave you shy smiles in the halls or a wave, it hadn't been enough to fix everything.

And that’s why a part of you dreaded winter break.

You loved going home, but you and Lily always had to pretend everything was fine, that you were still inseparable, so your parents wouldn’t think you had drifted apart.

It was hard enough to answer their questions about each other when you weren’t even in each other’s lives anymore.

Your plan had been simple: retreat to your room, listen to the new ABBA album, and enjoy some much-needed peace. That was until Lily approached you in the library.

"Hey Y/N!" Lily greeted, her voice chipper yet low, as she bounded toward your table. You looked up from your book, offering her an awkward smile.

"Hello, Lily," you replied flatly, trying not to show how much her presence was already stirring your emotions.

"Um," she started, fiddling nervously with her fingers. "I just wanted to ask you something."

You raised an eyebrow, curious but guarded. "And that is?"

"Okay, so, you know how we always go to Niagara Falls for winter break, to the lodge?" She paused, waiting for you to nod. "Well, I was kinda hoping you'd come with me to James's cabin instead. Mum and Dad said I can only go if you go, and it would mean the world to me. I really think it would be fun—"

She rambled on, tripping over her words, but you were too stunned to respond at first.

You blinked at her, feeling like a deer in headlights. Deep down, you didn’t want to disappoint her, but.

"No offense," you began, keeping your tone as flat as possible, "But I think I’d rather die."

Lily’s face fell, and she looked at you with pleading eyes. "Y/N, please! It’s the one thing I’m asking of you, and I think it would be good for us."

You scoffed, looking back at your book as she moved to sit across from you. "With all due respect, Lily, your friends are not my type of crowd."

"They aren’t all that bad," she insisted, clearly trying to convince you.

You snorted. "Oh, and that’s why they decided to dump yellow paint on all the first years last spring?"

"That’s the Marauders, and they’re only, like, 60 percent of my friends. I really only like Remus and Peter," she argued, her frustration and humor mixing together.

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at her defense. "Sorry, Lily. It’s gonna be a no."

You grabbed your book, standing up to leave.

But Lily stood in your way. "I’ll do anything! Your chores, your Potions homework—anything!"

You smiled in spite of yourself and tried to move around her. "Please, I just want to get to dinner."

"Please!" she begged, giving you her best puppy-dog eyes.

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, fine."

"Really?" she asked, her face lighting up in excitement.

"No," you grinned mischievously, moving past her and out of the library.

She groaned, clearly defeated. "You’re impossible."

A part of you wanted to help her, but you didn’t want to be stuck with the Marauders and her other friends for two weeks. It would be too long, and you’d be the outcast. The thought alone made you shudder.

But you were glad Lily was kind enough to accept your answer—at least, you thought she did.

You were sitting on a bench near the Black Lake with Pandora when the first nuisance of the day arrived.

"Hey, Y/N!" You turned to see Sirius Black striding toward you with that all-too-familiar charm and golden smile.

Pandora’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Is Sirius Black seriously coming over to you?"She asked, her words half-mushed with the cookie she was eating.

"That was a really odd phrasing for a question," You said, raising an eyebrow.

By the time you turned back to face him, Sirius was right in front of you, out of breath from his slight run.

"Wow, with that much stamina, Quidditch must be a useless sport," You joked as Pandora giggled.

"Nice one, madame," Sirius said, slipping onto the bench beside you without invitation, and you groaned in annoyance.

"What do you want?" You asked, trying to gently push him away.

"Well, a little birdie told me you said no to coming to James’s winter cabin," He said, grinning.

"If Lily thinks sending you is going to make me change my mind, she’s got another thing coming. I mean, I might’ve gone with Remus," You added sarcastically, watching as Sirius pretended to be wounded.

"That actually kind of hurts," He pouted, and you almost considered hexing him for real.

"Well, tell her you failed. I’m leaving this conversation," You said, standing up and moving toward the Great Hall, Pandora following quickly behind.

"But it will be fun!" He yelled.

"God, he’s truly insufferable," You muttered.

Pandora chewed thoughtfully. "His efforts are cute," She said as you glared at her, before adding, "But pointless and insufferable. I agree."

You laughed. "That’s certainly enough Marauder for one day."

And you thought that was the end of it.

You were packing up your things in Potions when another Marauder approached you, much to your dismay.

Before Remus could speak, you cut him off. "So, Sirius actually took me seriously when I said sending you could work?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That’s seriously Sirius for you," Remus said, trying to joke. You raised an eyebrow, glancing at Barty and Evan, who were stifling laughs.

Clearing his throat, Remus tried again. "You know, we don’t bite."

"What if I do?" You retorted, as Barty and Evan snickered.

"Then perhaps you could be something new for us. We’d love to have you," He said with a serious tone, though you weren’t convinced.

"I'm sure you would, Remus, but I can’t say the same for Golden Boy himself," You muttered, grabbing the last of your books and shoving them into your bag.

"James holds no malicious intent toward you," Remus said earnestly. "He promised Lily he wouldn’t."

"That’s great, but I hold malicious intent toward him," You snapped, walking away from Remus as you left Barty and Evan to their conversation.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, they sent in the Lion.

You were lying on the common room couch with Regulus when you heard the door creak open, and there he was—James Potter.

Regulus blinked at him in surprise. You groaned. "How did you even get in here?" You asked, already annoyed.

"It was actually quite easy. You Slytherins are predictable," he said, clearly trying to insult you, though you didn’t care enough to react.

"Well, I’m glad, but if you think you can convince me to go, you’re bloody mistaken," You retorted.

He stood in front of you, towering over you as you sat up and fixed him with a dangerous glare. "Come on, Y/N. You know me!" He tried the nice-guy approach.

"I know you?" You asked angrily, "I certainly don’t know you and don’t want to," You shot back, stubbornly.

He huffed. "Then why don’t you do it for Lily?" He asked, arms crossed.

You stood to face him, matching his height with a glare of your own. "Because none of you actually want me there, and I refuse to go somewhere I’m not wanted or where I don't want to go," You stated firmly.

"Well, maybe we can get to know you. Maybe you don’t have a stick up your arse after all," He replied, sounding more teasing than serious.

"The only stick in my arse is you trying to wedge yourself into me and Lily’s relationship for the billionth time," You shot back, your patience wearing thin.

"I think if you actually cared about fixing your relationship with her, you’d come and enjoy this with her," He said, his words hitting a little too close to home. "But hey, it’s up to you. Just know, she’d do the same for you," He added, walking out of the room.

You stood there, staring at the door, trying to process his words. You didn’t want to be selfish, but you didn’t want to spend two weeks with people who didn’t care for you, either.

Regulus broke the silence. "So, I guess you’re going to the cabin tomorrow," He muttered, glancing up from his magazine.

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch.

"I guess I am."

928 notes · View notes

j4desblurbs · 8 months ago

Note

i needed “kisses on the nose” from the prompt list with logan, like, yesterday

give me my soft man!!

LOVE’S PERFECT ACHE

yes i got the title from a hozier song

summary: logan gets mad at you, and makes it up to you.

warnings: i made this angsty but other than that, no warnings

word count: 1.3k

logan had been acting cold ever since lunch.

curt responses, no petnames, a bit more sarcasm than he would usually use for you. all of these things pointed to something that was your fault.

no matter how much you wracked your brain, you couldn’t think of anything you’d done to make him angry.

it’s not until he walks into your shared room a couple hours later that you find the answer.

“wanna tell me what that was back there?” he says, causing you to look up from your book.

“what?” your eyebrows furrow. what on earth is he talking about?

“with scott. at lunch. talking to him like that?”

you feel like you’ve missed a chapter.

“logan,” you huff out his name with a confused laugh. “what are you talking about?”

“hand on his arm like that? laughing your ass off? what’d he say that was so damn funny, hm?” logan seethes.

you think back to your interaction with scott earlier in the day. it was just like any other time the two of you have spent time together. you weren’t entirely sure what was so alarming about enjoying the company of your friend and teammate.

but then you remembered logan has a temperament, an extreme distaste of scott, and a jealous streak like nobody’s business.

“logan,” you sigh. “it wasn’t like that at all. i was just laughing at a joke he made.”

he scoffs, his tone condescending. “yeah, right.”

you bristle at that. he almost never talks down to you like this. suddenly, a pocket of anger bubbles into your chest. before you know it, you hear yourself saying:

“funny, i never acted like this while you flirted with jean.”

logan stops cold.

“i never flirted with jean.” he says, plain and simple.

you scoff. if there was anything you hated, it was being treated like you were dumb.

“don’t,” you warn. “don’t do that.”

“do what, sugar?” his tone is condescending, demeaning. it brings the beginning of tears to your eyes.

“don’t pretend like i don’t know.” you blink, trying to hold back your tears, but one falls and makes its way down your cheek.

logan falters. he hadn’t meant to make you cry.

“honey-“ he tries, but you brush him off by holding up your hand without another word.

it’s only after you make it to the first empty room you find that you allow yourself to break down. ———————————————————————————

for the rest of the day, logan isolates himself, staying in your room as the hours tick by.

he was never the best at communicating.

by all means, he was trying. he really was, but it was just so goddamn hard sometimes. he could never get the words right and often ended up causing even more damage to whatever situation he’d fucked up in the first place.

he knew you weren’t doing anything with scott, of course he did. but some part of him deep inside couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t enough for you, or someone bad for you. so, when his worst fear was even remotely realized, he lashed out in ugly ways.

logan lets out a sigh. why’d he have to fuck this up? he had never meant to make you cry. it was the last thing he’d ever want. all he’s ever wanted was to give you the love you deserve. to protect you. never to hurt you.

and he couldn’t even do that.

he gets up, putting out his cigar. it was about time he stopped wallowing in his self pity and started looking for you so he could apologize.

he does end up finding you, in a small room off the gym. logan’s heart cracks when he sees you, curled up against the corner, knees to your chest, eyes red.

what had he done?

he says your name, and his chest tightens even more when you visibly bristle at the sound of his voice. the sight’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.

logan strides over, kneeling next to you. his hand is warm and strong when he places it on your back, but your body still tenses when you feel his touch.

“have you been here the whole time, bub?” his voice is soft, his familiar scent of tobacco and leather and pine enveloping you and making you almost give in and bury yourself in his arms.

almost.

you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head, not wanting to speak just yet.

really, you didn’t trust yourself to not burst into tears the second you tried.

he sighs, shifting his position so that he’s in front of you. his hand gently pulls your chin up to make you look at him, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks down your face.

seeing how red your eyes are makes his heart do a slow twist in his chest. he had done this to you. and he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix it.

“i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet, gravelly. “i didn’t mean any of it, honey.”

you finally force yourself to meet his eyes, blinking slowly. he was lying. you knew it, could feel it.

logan rarely said anything he didn’t truly mean.

“i know you did. i know you meant it.” you say, the weak, broken tone of your voice hurting him even more.

“i want to explain. believe me. but i just can’t put what i’m feeling…..together. into words.” logan looks down, his mind racing. he was never good at expressing his feelings, and he was most certainly going to fuck it up if he did it without thinking it out.

“maybe you could try.” your voice, low and cracking slightly from lack of use, breaks him out of his thoughts.

he lets out a soft breath, unsure of how to explain himself. he owes it to you to try. to have what might possibly be the world’s most uncomfortable conversation if it meant that you didn’t loathe him like you did right now. for everything you do for him, it’s the very least he can do for you.

“you mean a lot to me, darlin. a lot more than it might seem. so when i see you talking to another man, happy with another man,” he trails off, a lump forming in his throat. “it hurts me. because every day i doubt that i’m the right one for you. every day i’m terrified that you’ll get tired of me, of us, and leave.”

as he talks, you slowly start to open up, pulling your knees away from your chest and wiping the remnants of your tears away from your face. your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks as you get onto your knees to reach him.

“logan.” your tone is firm. “why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

seeing the man you love, normally so tough and headstrong, almost curl into himself is a strange sight to stomach. logan seems small like this, not because of the way he’s crouched in front of you, but because of the palpability of his fear.

he clears his throat before he speaks, his voice soft. “i didn’t know how to say it.”

his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you against him into a hug. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, one palm sliding up to rest on your back.

as you reciprocate the hug, you feel the tension melt away from his body, his arms tightening slightly around you as the thought clicks in his head: you still wanted him.

“i’m sorry, baby.” logan whispers into your hair. “i’m so sorry.” he pulls you away from him a little, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, and finally your nose, resting his forehead against yours afterward.

you close the gap, pressing your lips to his, tasting faintly of tobacco and coffee. he kisses you back with equal gentleness. it’s a sweet, soft kiss that you both melt into.

you relish in the fact that you’ll have many more kisses just like these.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

591 notes · View notes

the-witty-pen-name · 4 months ago

Text

The Love Triangle From Hell (3)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following PART TWO, Steve feels even more distant from his friends- especially you; Eddie reflects on memories he has of you two; Nancy and Jonathan work together for the paper; Robin does her best to navigate what being friends with you and Steve looks like; you seek comfort in one of the only ways you know how- calling Eddie

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy; kissing; implications of smut; horniness

A/N: You guys are literally the absolute best. I am having the best time writing this- I'm so inspired by all of you. The love you have shown this fic so far has me overwhelmed. Thank you for your kind words, you have helped me work through some serious writer's block. Your comments and reblogs are keeping me going fr

This is unedited; please let me know what you think and if I missed anything I should include as a warning.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

His hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling you in close for another searing kiss. He can’t catch his breath, but he’s just so desperate to stay close to you like this. Your lips are so soft against his and your mouth is so inviting as you yank him closer. You whimper against his lips and it makes him shiver. He feels weak in the knees as you feel so pliable to his touch. You melt into his embrace and sigh happily as his lips trail down your neck.

“Want you,” you moan softly, tugging his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Need you so bad.”

“‘M gonna take care of you,” he promises, bringing his lips back to yours.

“Love you,” you moan.

Before he finds out if he says it back, his alarm goes off and he’s brought back to his reality. He groans disappointedly, covering his ears with his pillow- desperate for a couple more minutes with dream you. There’s a bang at his door.

“Steve! Turn that shit off!” Eddie calls from the other side of the door. He’s yelling but his tone is playful. Steve hits his alarm off and drudges out of bed finally. Eddie has coffee made and Steve forgets anything is wrong at the moment.

“Did she say anything last night?” Steve asks groggily as he pours himself a cup.

“Um, not really,” Eddie replies, taking a moment to think about it. “I mean, yes but not about anything that we don’t know already. She’s conflicted, she doesn’t know what to think or feel. She just wants time.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, leaning up against the counter. He takes a sip of his coffee. He needs to get to work. He can talk about this with Robin when he gets there.

When you called Eddie, you didn’t expect Steve to answer. You thought maybe he’d say something- you wanted him too. But he didn’t. You couldn’t read him anymore.

Eddie was thrilled to hear your voice. He’d missed you, and he’d missed talking to you. He wanted that piece back as soon as he could get it. He reveled in the way his name sounded coming from you.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to upset Steve- I heard the way he dropped the phone down…”

“It’s okay sweetheart,” he says compassionately. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He’s met with a sad feeling of silence.

“I’m happy you called,” he says gently. He hopes the sentiment makes you feel better.

“I’ve missed you,” you admit, and Eddie feels like his heart might swell out of his chest.

“It’s hard when the two people who you talk about everything with are the people you want to talk about,” you joke, and he laughs with you.

“You can talk shit about me,” he teases and he hears you groan. He bites his lip, holding back a smile.

“How are you doing?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Much better now,” he flirts.

“How are you doing, really?” You ask again, your voice sounding more fragile.

“I meant, honestly- not great. But not worse than anyone else is doing right now.”

“Yeah…”

“I miss you a lot too,” he admits. He runs a hand through his hair, and it reminds him of how amazing it felt the last time you played with his hair. He’s craving that touch so badly.

When you both were in high school, Eddie went out of his way to make sure you always had a seat at the table. He’d notice as you stood with your cafeteria tray, waiting for Steve to realize there was no open seat for you at his table. He’d wave obnoxiously to catch your eye and he’d smile at the way you’d get shy from the attention. He’d point at the empty seat next to him, and he’d grin as your eyes light up in realization you had a spot. You’d shuffle through the crowd and take your seat next to him. You’d take a seat and ruffle his hair in your hands.

Eddie was always a creature of habit. As much as he exudes chaos, he actually thrives in having a routine. Don’t get him wrong- it’s never been a good routine… but it’s routine nonetheless. In high school it was a lot of the same. Tuesdays, Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout. He would get home way too late and never get in bed until close to 3am. Wednesday mornings, he’d sleep through his alarm and stroll into first period consistently 10ish minutes late. Thursdays he prepped for Hellfire, and then of course, the piece the resistance was Friday. Hellfire. An epic campaign that would run several hours and ensure the most recent shit week had been worth it to make it to that moment.

He remembers that he was paralyzed when the group proposed to postpone Hellfire one time his first senior year. It snaps him out of his thoughts, as he was so wrapped up in you- and how close you were sitting. Eddie knew that hypothetically, it shouldn’t matter if the date changes. However, he couldn’t wrap his head around change. He hated it- still does. A disruption from his status quo throws off his entire week and it will take him too long to mentally recover. He knew that he came off as a hard ass, but he prefers it than trying to explain his mind to his friends. He had felt his jaw tighten as he tried to rationalize with himself that it can be okay to switch it up. He unclenched his fists once he realized that he was making his knuckles white unintentionally.

“Uh yeah, no problem. Saturday’s fine,” he was able to manage through gritted teeth. He relaxed when he could look past himself and see his friends smile, thanking him and happily chatting about the campaign. He smiled when he observed that his decision made everyone happy. That for him outweighed the internal struggle.

He didn’t really listen to the reason everyone wanted to reschedule, but he picked up on after the fact that everyone is talking about the Snow Ball. He couldn’t help but recoil back into himself as his friends talked about their plans to go- who they’re asking, what suit they’re getting, what songs would play, and whatever. He couldn’t have cared less. Unless…

His eyes wandered to sneak a glance at you. He wondered if you had plans- maybe you're hoping someone asks you. Maybe, he’s lucky and you were hoping that someone would be him. He wondered if you had a date. Maybe you already had been asked. It’s not like you had been aware of the way Eddie’s felt about you- unrequited feelings that tugged on his focus constantly since he’s known you. You caught his eye and offered him a shy smile and he could crumble.

Eddie immediately averted his gaze, and focused his attention back on his friends. He ignored the way his face suddenly became so warm and he ignored the butterflies that were swarming around in his stomach. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on these feelings- he knew that there’s no way you feel the same. Who could possibly like him?

He felt a pressure when the freshman looked at him, one of them having asked Eddie about his own plans. Eddie sees the way the kids look up to him, they idolize him. He knows they think he’s cool. He can’t let that go just yet, he loved it too much. He needed it. He wanted to have them hang on to this version of him for as long as they’d believe in it.

So, despite his usual distaste in school sanctioned functions, he did not want to allow the kids to think he couldn’t score a date. He could only blame society so much before they realized it’s actually his own fear of putting himself out there that cramped his dating life more than anything else. He then resolves that he needs a date to this dance. He tells himself that it’s for the freshman, to keep up the cool facade or whatever. But in actuality, he just wanted to ask you because he wants to ask you out. It’s his perfect window of opportunity.

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it, honestly,” you said, when one of the freshmen asked you if you had plans. “I’d been so busy with the play, I haven’t had a chance.” Eddie watched as you glanced over to Steve’s table. “Steve and I usually would go to this kinda thing,” you said quickly, and Eddie could see your apprehension despite your best attempt to hide it. “We’ll probably go as friends again.”

He said nothing.

A few days later, you called Eddie and he could immediately tell you’re upset. You’re doing your best to hold it together but he can tell you’re almost at your breaking point.

“Hey,” you say, your voice straining as you try not to cry. “I know this is totally not your thing, but I’m kind of in a bind.”

“What can I do?” He asked, sitting up straight on his bed. He was getting ready to locate his shoes or his keys- thinking you’re in trouble somewhere. He’ddrop anything to come get you.

“I know you’d probably rather do literally anything else, but um, I have two tickets to the Snow Ball and I already bought a dress…”

“I thought you’d be going with Steve?” He asked. You sniffled.

“Um, yeah I kind of just assumed he’d take me. I didn’t realize that he asked out Nancy Wheeler,” you choked back tears. “I mean it’s not like that,” you lied, maybe not to Eddie but more to yourself, “we’re just friends. But I still thought He and I would be going together like as friends again- you know? But, uh, yeah- he is taking like a real date.”

“I know you’d hate it, and I will make it up to you. But, I already bought the tickets and I can’t get my money back. It’s like not a date or anything, just like a friend thing…”

“I’d be happy to take you,” he replied, sincerely. He can tell you were expecting him to fight you on it. When would you catch on that he’s willing to do anything for you?

“Eddie, thank you so much,” you sniffled, still trying your best to keep it cool. “I owe you one,” your voice cracks and you hang up quickly before he gets a chance to say anything.

Eddie didn’t really understand back then why you were even friends with Steve to begin with. Eddie thought Steve, frankly, was a total douchebag. However, once he actually got to know Steve- it was a different story. He couldn’t resent Steve. He loved him like a brother now. And once Eddie got to know the Steve you’ve always known, your feelings for him made sense. But at the same time, Eddie held his tongue for all the things Steve did or didn’t do for so long. Steve was good guy at his core, Eddie understood. But his actions didn’t reflect that in Eddie’s eyes. But it wasn’t his place to tell you that. It didn’t seem right. You’d known Steve so much longer than him.

Nancy and Jonathan invited you and Robin to go with them to watch Lucas’ basketball game. You were excited to get out of your little apartment and support Lucas. Jonathan was photographing it for The Hawkins Post. Jonathan paced up and down the court side to get photos, and you sat up in the bleachers with Nancy and Robin. You were never one to go to school things really, but it was Lucas’s senior year and it was a big game- of course you were going to be there.

“It feels weird, Steve not being here,” Nancy whispers to you and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, everything just feels weird right now,” you agree. “You and Jonathan are okay?”

“We’re good. We’re doing good, um, still working through stuff but we’re going to just work through it.”

“That’s good.”

“Robin?” Nancy asks, and Robin turns her head to pay attention. “How’s things with Vicky?”

Robin’s face turns tomato red. “Fine,” she mumbles, happily. “I’m gonna hang out with her tomorrow.” You elbow her teasingly, making her blush redden.

“How’s it feeling? Being the best at all of this out of us?” You tease.

“I don’t know,” she’s so embarrassed, it’s so sweet. “We both just like each other- it’s not that complicated. She’s so great.”

The three of you turn your attention back to the game at the sound of the whistle. You clapped and cheered the loudest whenever Lucas had the ball. He tried to plead with the lot of you to tone it down, casting weary looks in your direction. You couldn’t help yourselves. You felt so proud of him.

You decide to take a walk to the concession stands and get some snacks for everyone. You order four sodas and two large popcorns- one for Jonathan and Nancy and one for you and Robin. You fish the cash out of the front pocket of your jeans, and hand it to the kid working the window. You thank him, and balance it all in your hands to navigate carefully back to the stands.

You see a familiar face coming down the hallway, sprinting. For a moment, you can’t help the smile that forms across the expanse of your face until you remember what’s been going on. Your face falls, and you feel so stupid for being excited to see him when it hits you again all at once.

You don’t think Steve knew you’d all be here, because he looks just as surprised to see you. He stops and his sneakers squeak across the polished gym floor. He looks at you with an expression of pure panic. He totally didn’t think you’d be here. And you’re surprised he came alone- but of course he did, he’s Steve. Of course, he’s going to show up to every game for Lucas. You shouldn’t expect any less. It still takes you back.

“Can I help with those?” he asked, gesturing for you to pass some stuff to him. You nod, and tilt so he can take some of the things from your grasp.

“Where are you sitting?” He asks, and you nod your head towards Robin and Nancy. His face deflates. “Ah, okay.” He walks over with you, and he passes the items in his hand off to Robin. He moves aside so you can walk back into your spot.

“Thanks, Steve,” you offer him a soft smile, appreciating the effort despite the circumstances.

“Yeah of course,” he mutters, backing away, lingering for a moment because the seat that’s usually there for him between you and Robin isn’t there. He quickly pulls himself out of his thoughts and just heads over to the next row of bleachers, finding a seat next to a couple of his old basketball teammates that are here for their little brothers.

Steve can’t even focus on the game, he keeps trying to steal glances of you from his peripheral vision. He wants to know what Robin said that made you laugh like that, and he wished he could have heard your laugh- but you’re too far away from him. He watches as your jaw drops at something Nancy tells you, and he watches how you cheer so happily for Lucas. He wants to know if this is bothering you the way it’s bothering him. You look like you’re keeping it together and he wants to know if that could truly be the case.

Even when you’re carrying so much hurt, you give off such a radiance that Steve and he’s sure everyone else is just drawn into. Your pretty smile and your bright eyes are all he can think about- he only knows when to cheer when he feels the people around him move. He smiles when you stand up and pose, pointing to Lucas- then Lucas matches it, giving it back to you. He watches as you both share that moment of just pure joy, and his heart aches. He doesn’t know if he could ever make you that happy.

When the game was over, you looked to see if you could find Steve but there was no sign of him. You all invited Lucas to go out for celebratory pizza for his big win, but he wanted to go with his teammates. The plan fizzled pretty much after that. Robin wanted to get home so she could call Vicky and Jonathan and Nancy wanted to head home so Jonathan could start developing his photos. When you and Robin are walking out, you see a familiar van.

“I’ll bum a ride from Nancy,” Robin assures you, pushing you in Eddie’s direction. She waves to Eddie from a distance and then jogs to catch up with Nancy and Jonathan.

“What are you doing here?” you ask with a smile. He pushes himself off of the hood of his van and walks over to you, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

“I thought you might be here,” he quips. “Plus, I had to poke my head in- Sinclair is some big shot apparently?” he jokes, “I had to check out for a few minutes.”

“He’s really great,” you agree.

“Was Steve here?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah I saw him. He didn’t really stay either- I mean he stayed for the game, but we didn’t talk really.” You shrug.

“Well,” he says, trying to optimistically change the subject, “Do you wanna get out of here? I could give you a ride home or we could get food or something- or even just drive around and not talk. I’m not picky.”

He looks so beautiful like this, you observe. The sky is pitch black but the lights in the parking lot illuminate him perfectly with a soft glow. His hair is wonderfully messy and his smile is making it hard for you to breathe. Has he always looked like this? You wonder, astonished as it hits you all at once. He’s gorgeous. Your eyes linger, taking in every little detail you’ve overlooked before. He waves his hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he tisks.

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like you’re trying to jump my bones,” he chuckles. Your face warms, and suddenly you realize how long you must have been staring.

“Ha, right,” you joke sarcastically, or at least, trying to joke sarcastically. You walk past him and get into the passenger side of the van and try your best to compose yourself in the few seconds it takes for him to follow suit.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says, turning over the ignition, “where to?”

“Can we just drive around like we used to?” you ask- the circumstances of tonight making you feel so nostalgic.

“Of course we can,” he hums, passing you the case of his cassettes- a familiar and welcomed sight for your tired eyes.

You watch Eddie as he drives, and observe the way the muscles in his arms flex ever so subtly as he turns the wheel. You watch his ringed fingers tap across the top of the steering wheel and you can’t help it the way your mind wanders. You’re so wrapped up in the way his hair sways so effortlessly and the movement of his jaw as he sings, you don’t even notice that Steve was leaving the gym just in time to see you both drive away.

After a little while of aimless driving, and hitting up the drive thru, Eddie ends up parking at Lover’s Lake when neither of you are ready to go home just yet.

“Eddie?” You ask absentmindedly, finishing off the milkshake he got you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he replies, also finishing his, but with an obnoxiously loud suck of his straw- determined to get every last sip.

“Why do you like me?” you ask, cringing almost immediately. You think you sound like a middle schooler or something- you’re so embarrassed. His eyes widen for a brief second, contemplating his answer. He tosses the empty cup into the back.

“First off,” he criticizes teasingly, “I did not say I liked you- I’m in love with you. Get your facts straight, ma’am.”

“My apologies,” you giggle, holding your hands up in defeat.

“I mean- I love everything about you; always have,” he starts. “You’re sweet and kind. I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re incredible, and sometimes I can’t figure out why you wanted to ever be friends with me in the first place.”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Would you kiss me?”

Eddie’s a goner when you’re looking at him with those doe eyes. More than anything he wants to lunge across and close the space between you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It takes every fiber of his being to hold himself back..

“I don’t know if I can kiss you without knowing if I could ever kiss you again,” He whispers, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in towards you. His hand lifts to hold your cheek and suddenly he’s so close. Closer than the two of you have ever been. His lips are tantalizingly close to yours when his forehead touches yours. A huge bang on the side of the van scares you both away from each other.

“Give her time, my ass, Munson! Get the fuck out here! Get your fucking hands off my girl!”

PART FOUR

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juletheghoul · 3 months ago

Text

regression

a/n: Okay, this one is going to be a little different, in this chapter we get some angst. I received a few amazing asks about Girlwife slipping back into calling Marcus Dominus, and how he would feel. There is obviously a playful way it could happen, or even in a sexual capacity, control and all that but some of the asks were of an angsty nature and this is where I delved. No sexy stuff in this chapter, dealing with Lavinia (nasty, jealous bitch) and postpartum. Hope you enjoy, always happy to receive messages and dms about Marcus and his Girlwife. 🖤 Not beta’d, barely proofread **ps, I googled what a Wetnurse was called in ancient Rome and got a few different answers - I went with nutrix.

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, shame, submissive reader (postpartum) angst, angry Marcus, remorseful Marcus, Lavinia being her usual cunt self 😒

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His thumb presses against the furrow in your brow, a feather light stroke to wipe the frown off your face. You sigh, Diana calm and asleep against your breast, milk-drunk and perfect.

“It is only for the day, my love. The women, and the nutrix will take care of her.” His tone is soothing, patient despite the tremble in your frame. Tears well in your lashes, emotions that feel too big and too uncontrollable course through your being.

“Apologies–” his thumbs wipe the tears away, shaking his head to dismiss your apology, “I just, I don’t know why my nerves are so shredded–” You take a deep breath, to sigh a deep sigh.

“There are no apologies needed, this is a big step. We have not been apart from her since she was born. It is perfectly normal for you to be fearful, but I swear to you she will be well-cared for.” His hand looks so massive on the crown of her head, a gentle sweep while the tears fall in a steady stream. “We make an appearance, show our faces, I find out the meaning of the invitation and then come straight back here.”

Her little chest rises and falls in your arms, the full pout of her lips stained with milk, her fingers curled up under her chin, all of her cracks your heart in half.

“Yes, you’re right.” With another deep sigh, you rise, handing her gently off to the older woman waiting quietly beside you. She smiles at the child in her arms, rocking softly to keep her asleep. Already you miss her, the little weight of her, the smell of her hair and it feels like a part of you is missing despite her being right before your eyes.

He presses a kiss to her forehead before she’s taken away by what is for all intents and purposes, her mother for the day.

His arms gather you up and for a moment the unexplainable despair swallows you like an ocean, a rogue wave crashing you into a wall. He says nothing, only holds you tightly within his comforting embrace.

You’re quiet on the way to the gathering, quiet as you walk through the halls of the Senators home, looking but not really seeing–attention still wrapped up in Diana and the uncertainty of her well-being despite his assurances, and the deep-seeded knowledge that the women in your house would give their lives for her. It was hard to remember that just now, without the weight of her within your arms.

Attendants greet you, offering wine to which you politely decline. They lead you to a great room, filled with people and food and part of you wishes to run out the door.

“We will only be here until he has said his piece to me, once I know the purpose of this we will be gone. I will not keep you away from home longer than is necessary my love.” He says the words low into the skin of your temple, a soft kiss to seal it before he leads you towards the owner of the home.

You watch as the older man greets Marcus, give him a tight smile when he presses a kiss to your cheek in greeting, and let him lead you to a place at his table.

��You must tell me, to what do we owe the pleasure of your invitation?” Marcus drinks the wine offered with one hand, while holding yours in the other and you’re grateful for his pressing.

“But you have only just arrived General Acacius, we will get into the matter once everyone has arrived. Fear not, eat, enjoy.” The older man, Senator Cassius, laughs and engages with other guests while others arrive.

“Lady Acacius, I have not yet had the pleasure.” A woman sits down in the place next to you, smiling brightly, “I am Caecilia, the wife of Senator Cassius and the Lady of this house.” She presses kisses to your cheeks.

“The pleasure is all mine, thank you for receiving us.” You smile your best smile, hoping to the Gods that you look presentable, that you are not leaking milk. She waves away your thanks.

“I wanted to congratulate you on the birth of your child, we were very happy to hear the news, and of your union to General Acacius of course. You must be a special woman indeed to have ensnared him.” She smiles, looking to Marcus and it’s said with an air of playfulness, not malice.

“She is indeed.” Marcus slips his arm around your shoulder and you feel the heat crawl across your face.

“I don’t know if ensnared is the word—” She laughs, and you know she’s teasing you, a friendly poke to lighten the mood.

“Of course not my lady, you are a beautiful young woman and I have never seen him so happy, I was only teasing.” You like her instantly, she’s older than you but not by much and you continue to chat with her until the men rise. Your stomach drops but Marcus presses close.

“I am only going to the study with him to finally know the truth of why we are here. Do not fret, I will return shortly.” He places a kiss to your neck.

“Yes yes go off, you men tend to your business, leave us ladies to entertain ourselves.” Caecilia takes your hand in hers and squeezes it firmly, reassuring you and you nod to him.

Chatting with her is oddly comforting, she’s sweet and honest and much more playful than you thought she’d be. Usually these gatherings are full of gossip and the cruel undercurrent of high society that sours the mood. This however feels light, other women join your conversation, they ask questions about Diana, they congratulate and relate and it is for the most part, enjoyable. Until a late guest enters the house.

Lavinia enters with her new, young husband in tow. A sour faced man, high up in the senate and you feel the way Caecilia stiffens beside you.

“Where is Senator Cassius?” He asks, without greeting. Your nerves fray still more when Lavinia catches your eye, a narrowing of her eyes lets you know that she is not happy at having been passed over.

“I am here, and you are late, come, we have been waiting for you.” Senator Cassius is at the edge of the room, his tone clipped.

Lavinia joins the group, sitting across from you and you cannot be sure if it is just your apprehension at seeing her, but the atmosphere turns icy.

“I must congratulate you Lavinia, on your union.” Caecilia’s tone is full of cold courtesy, devoid of any of the warmth she spoke to you with.

“Gratitude Caecilia.” She bows her head, smiling wide before turning her attention to you, her eyebrow raising in a manner you do not like. “I must congratulate you as well, Lady Acacius, on trapping the General, and with a baby no less. Must be strange for you to be amongst such elevated company, and not be required to pour.” Her smile is sharp, and some of the other women tut, displeased with her rudeness. Your lashes fill with unshed tears, the stress of leaving your daughter, the absence of Marcus, being away from your house and your comfort turn the barbs into something bigger, something devastating.

“That is no way to speak to Lady Acacius, especially not in my house.” Caecilia shoots back, quick and you’re grateful for her, the shock of rudeness has left you speechless.

“Oh come now, it’s obvious. Man like him marries a slave and parades her around–”

“I seem to recall you wanting to be paraded by him.” Caecilia cuts her off, “I seem to recall you being rejected, twice.” Lavinia’s eyes widen, some of the other ladies laugh.

“I recall that as well, I heard there was a rumour of a tantrum you threw to your father because Acacius did not want you.” Another of the girls says, half laughing and Lavinia's face goes red. The men return, speaking loudly, oblivious to the turmoil within and seeing Marcus surrounded by all those powerful men, knowing he is important, knowing he is respected and far beyond what you deserve makes you break. A tear falls down your cheek, your heart races and you feel like a caged bird, surrounded by walls.

“Do not listen to her my Lady, she is only envious of you.” Caecilia wipes your tear away but Marcus is there, having noticed the red in your eyes. He frowns, crouching down to look you in the eye but there are so many people, too many watching and a shame fills your being, that you have embarrassed him, caused a scene and made him possibly regret his choices, regret you.

“My love-” His voice is soft, but Lavinia chimes in, unfettered by her scolding.

“Congratulations to you Marcus, wife, slave and nutrix all rolled into one.” She smiles, but his eyes turn black with rage.

“Your anger at my spurning you gives you no right to speak this way, if you think you have embarrassed me, or my wife you are sorely mistaken. The only thing you have done is prove that I was right to deny you. You are not fit to be in the same room as her, let alone look down your nose at her. Come, my Lady, let us retire to our home, and our child.”

“Will you let him speak to me–”

“Quiet, Lavinia. Seems the rumours I heard of your feelings for General Acacius are true. Come, we will discuss this later. Let us away.” Her husband does not wait for her, instead she is made to run after him, tail tucked between her legs but it does not calm you. The whole scene, the whole spectacle only fills you with doubt. Perhaps he would have been better off with someone high-born, not some slave within his house. A cruel little part of you whispers that you were what was available, he is only with you because you were there.

He says nothing the whole way home, the anger in him is so big, so heavy it threads through your ribs, it squeezes at your heart and all you want to do it make yourself small, hideaway in your old chambers and cry, hold your daughter tightly and forget ever having left her.

When he guides you inside the house the tears are heavy and hot on your face, flowing freely and he stops you.

“My–”

“Please forgive me Dominus, I did not mean to embarrass you–” A strangled noise comes out of him, something wounded as you fall to your knees before him. When you look up he too has tears on his face.

“I shall redeem myself, I swear to you.” You cry, reverting back to that timid little thing you’d been long ago but he falls to his knees right in front of you, holding your face with both of his hands.

“Stop this!” His voice cracks, and you cover your face with your hands, another misstep, another failure.

“My love stop this, I beg of you, I am not your Dominus, I am your husband and I love you.” He pulls your hands away, his eyes red with hurt and you cannot help but sob.

“But I am beneath–”

“You are no such thing! You are everything to me, if anyone is not worthy, if anyone is blessed it is me! You cannot let the jealous barbs of a woman spurned make you question my love for you, you cannot let her and her black heart question your place. You are the Lady of this house, you are the mother of my child and you are the single most important person in my whole world. Please, please do not call me Dominus, I am not that, not to you.” Diana cries, a wail that pierces through the bubble of the two of you clutching at each other on the floor just inside the doorway.

“Dominus, Domina–is something the matter? Shall I fetch a medicus?” The older woman looks terrified as she tries to soothe the baby, but Marcus waves her concern away.

“We will be retiring to bed early, we require food and drink to be brought and then no interruptions for the rest of the night. I do not care if the Emperor himself knocks on the door, no one is to disturb us.” He stands, gently pulling you up with him. With a shuddering breath, you take Diana into your arms, and retreat within the safety of your chambers.

He helps you undress, careful to not disturb the child in your arms, wiping away at the errant tears as he goes along. Once he too is comfortable, you both slip into the bed, Diana asleep between you.

With quiet, with food and drink and the reassuring rhythm of her breathing a different form of shame settles over you. Shame that you regressed, that you thought he would think differently of you because of what Lavinia had said, he had more than proven himself and his feelings since freeing you.

“Marcus,” You reach over, caressing at the grey scruff on his cheeks “Forgive me, I do not know what came over me.” He sighs, cupping your hand against his face.

“No, it is I who beg for your forgiveness. I shouldn’t have pushed you to go, not when I could see how hard it was for you to leave her.” He lowers his hand, holding onto Diana’s little foot. “I should have gone on my own, or refused the invitation, I should not have put you in that situation. Your comfort, your happiness–and hers are the only things that matter to me. I must remember that when duty calls.” His hand moves from her foot, to your face, cupping your cheek and sweeping his thumb just under your eye.

“Forgive me.” He leans over, careful not to jostle the baby and presses a kiss to your mouth. You nod, not trusting your voice. The rest of the night is spent in quiet comfort, basking in and trusting in the love you both have for one another, and the being you created.

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #general acacius #pedro pascal gladiator #acacius #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x female reader

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animeniacss · 10 months ago

Note

hey, I wanted to request a Jeonghan x Reader, fluff + angsty thingy? thank you in advance doe 🫶🏻

I hope you like it! I had a brainstorm for it already lingering so this request was EXACTLY what I needed!

Synopsis: After a fight, Jeonghan brings home a Lego set and starts working on it right in front of you. Does he not want to talk about it?

Tags: Slight Angst, Established Relationship, NonIdol!AU, Fluff, One-shot

Length: aapprox. 2.9k words

Jeonghan x Reader - For You

The sound of the apartment door closing did not make you look up from your book on the couch. The kicking and thumping of shoes in the entryway only made you turn your pages, and the sound of footsteps entering the apartment didn’t even pull your eyes up.

It wasn’t until there was a commotion at the coffee table that you saw it being used. In front of you was Jeonghan, your boyfriend, pulling out a large Lego set. When his eyes shot up in your direction, you simply greeted him with a raise of your eyebrows and a flick of your eyes back down to your book, turning the page once again. A little hum was heard across from you, but you didn’t acknowledge it.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, though he was already doing so.

You took a deep breath. The coffee table always had the best space for Jeonghan’s Lego sets. “...Sure,” you said, but your eyes remained glued on one word in the book, rereading it multiple times to look indifferent. Jeonghan hummed in thanks.

You and Jeonghan had gotten into an argument earlier that way. Over what? You were too heated to remember. Something about work, because it was always about work when the two of you started fighting. After the shouting and the tears in your eyes, all you remember was storming into your room, and Jeonghan left minutes later. It took another twenty minutes of silence for you to exit the room, sitting on the couch where you’d remained ever since.

But Jeonghan plopping down at the coffee table without saying anything might be the thing to change that. The fight still sat heavy in your bones, your pillow still damp from hysterical crying on the phone to Joshua and Seokmin for an hour. And Jeonghan didn’t seem to care one bit.

He always kept to himself after a fight, using that space to cool down before the both of you talked it out. But wasn’t that why he left the house in the first place? When you turned the next page of your book, ending the chapter, your eyes lifted to him again. He was organizing his legos, eyes focused on the task at hand. He was reading the first set of instructions for his design. When your eyes fell to the box, you saw him place it under the coffee table and out of view.

The both of you sat in awkward silence for a little while, you trying your best to focus on the book in your hands while Jeonghan silently shuffled through plastic Lego pieces, the clicking sound echoing through the little apartment. Sitting in silence when there was so much tension was sickening, and you never understood how Jeonghan was able to do it so easily. How he was able to move on without so much as a word about it, a huff, not even an apologetic glance. His eyes were as neutral as they were beautiful and it was infuriating. Every time.

I can’t sit here. You thought to yourself when you saw Jeonghan sift through a little pile of white pieces. The sound of your book closing overtook the plastic clinking together momentarily, and Jeonghan’s eyes met yours once more. He blinked.

“Are you going inside?”

“I might.” You said.

Jeonghan blinked. Opening his mouth a few times, you thought he was finally going to utter some sort of an apology. Or beg you to sit and keep him company. Something that you could use to leverage a conversation about what happened. But he simply brushed his shoulder-length black hair out of his face and asked: “Can you hand me that piece?” he pointed to a red piece that had broken away from the rest when the pack first opened. With a sigh, you knelt and took the piece from the other end of the table, sliding it back over until it clinked against his waiting palm. “Thanks.” and with a nod, he simply returned to his work.

Almost dumbfounded, you stood there and watched as Jeonghan clicked the red piece into place. Wherever he worked on a new set you couldn’t help but be curious as to what he was making, but you simply avoided your gaze. The tension was still so palpable that you felt like you would choke on it. When would he put that down? It would only take a few seconds. Was that new set more important than-?

“Can you bring me that basket of extra Lego pieces in our closet?”

“Wh-?” the question almost made you stumble despite standing still, and you stared at him. “Your Lego basket?”

“Yeah. It’s in the closet right under.”

“I know where it is.” you huffed, slamming your book onto the couch and storming into the bedroom. You were unaware of how desperately you wanted to create some distance until your feet started moving. But when you scanned the bedroom, eyes falling right on the closet, you debated simply staying in the room and not bringing the bag out to him. He could easily come and get it himself, maybe it would pull him away from his new interest long enough to solve this awkward tension between you.

However, you felt your feet carry you to the closet, kneeling to pull out the little basket of extra Lego pieces he’d been collecting since long before the two of you got together. You could hear shuffling out in the other room, and like a magnet, you felt your feet spin and begin walking. I’ll just drop it and not say a word. I’m going inside. If he wants to play this game, I can too. And I’ll win.

Jeonghan looked up when he saw you bring the basket out, face still his neutral appearance of indifference. It seemed nothing on the table had changed, so whatever he needed, would hopefully be in the basket. As promised, you set the basket on the floor beside him without a word, not even a huff as you straightened your body. Jeonghan turned his head, peering into the basket curiously. The second his hand dipped in and he began digging, you saw his brows furrow in annoyance. But you weren’t going to let him win. You weren’t. You couldn’t.

You plopped yourself back down on the couch, kicking one leg over the other and grabbing your book. And just like that, the tension settled back over the two of you once again.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you knew that it was making your chest tighter and tighter with each passing minute. This game was always hard to play, even when Jeonghan wasn’t distracted with Legos or work or his phone. Just sitting in silence when so many unspoken things were settled between the both of you…neither of you dared to start the conversation, it seemed.

Jeonghan, however, had no problem talking. He opened the next bag and looked back up at you. “Can you pass me that green stem piece?”

Instinct kicked in, and you looked up from your book to search for the piece. “Where?” Jeonghan’s lips quirked into a smirk, watching as you covered your mouth and looked back at your book.

“Never mind,” he said, reaching and getting it himself. A beat of silence before he said: “You don’t have to sit in here with me.” Your eyes cast up to him. “If you don’t want to.”

Your frown tightened just a bit, thumbing through the pages of your book. You were here first why did you have to leave? Forget that one thought of leaving the room after bringing him his basket, it didn’t matter. Especially now that Jeonghan was practically telling you to leave! Pulling your growing frustration deep into your core, you simply pulled your feet up onto the couch and continued reading your book. Jeonghan hummed. “Alright, then.”

A few more clicks of Lego pieces and you looked up at him. He seemed to have gotten what looked to be a brown pot with red and white decorations half completed, and you tilted your head. He was as focused as ever, sifting between what he was given and the basket of extra just in case. You watched form behind your book as he moved seamlessly in one spot, muttering to himself as he clicked pieces together. Without realizing you were doing so, you slid off the couch and across from him on the coffee table, setting your book down. Jeonghan only glanced at you for a second, the corner of his lip quirking into a little smile before he continued working. It didn’t matter. You still weren’t talking to him. You just…the floor was more comfortable.

Maybe if I just stare at him, he’ll finally get the hint. You thought to yourself, eyes boring into him. He might just think I’m over it. However, the longer you stared, the harder you stared, Jeonghan just kept working. He didn’t even glance up at you again until you huffed in annoyance. With another couple of clicks, the brown pot was done. He opened another plastic bag of pieces and turned in the directions. You followed every movement, your eyes straining from how hard you were staring. No luck. Jeonghan was so stubborn when he wanted to be.

When Jeonghan leaned forward to get the next piece needed, you leaned forward as well. His eyes flickered to you for a second, and that second left you hopeful. But he simply looked back down at his work, and you wondered if that second of hopefulness reflected in your face. He thought everything was ok.

As silence returned to the coffee table, you watched his hands move and work. The longer you watched, the heavier your eyes felt. The heavier your eyes felt, the more they began to sting with the desire to relieve yourself of some of that heaviness. Some of the heaviness you’ve felt for hours since this stupid fight happened.

And he looks completely unaffected.

You inhaled to take a breath but didn’t realize how hard it shook your chest, causing you to immediately turn your head and cough. Out of the corner of your eye, Jeonghan’s hand stopped and he looked up at you. You covered your mouth with one hand, the other wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. Then, it happened. Jeonghan scooted around the coffee table until he was at your side, but you refused to look at him. You could feel his hand on the small of your back, and he softly said your name. You could hear the concern on the one word, the tone that indicated he knew he had waited far too long to start bringing this up. “Are you-?”

“Forget it, I’m fine.” You said. “Work on your thing, I’m good. Just swallowed…swallowed some air.” Despite not turning to see Jeonghan’s expression, you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

“C’mere,” he said, reaching his arm forward and pulling you closer to his side. You looked up at him as he tucked your head gently into his shoulder, his own resting on top. The hand that wasn’t now gently guiding your arm had reached back out to the instructions of the Lego set, pulling across the table and onto his lap. He thumbed the previous few pages, before whispering: “I think this set is missing some pieces. Should I take it back?”

“What?” you coughed out, tilting your head up. “Is that really what you’re so worried about?”

“Hm? What are you worried about?” he asked. He saw your eyes widen, and he responded by squeezing your bicep and setting the instructions aside. “Is it still bothering you?”

“Yeah, of course! How could it not?!” you shifted enough to get a good look at him. “You left for hours after and…for the past hour you’ve been home we haven’t….spoken anything of it. You’ve been working on this….like nothing happened!” Jeonghan was silent for a second, watching as you wiped your eyes.

“Mmmmm, well when I came home I saw how upset you were when you looked at me,” he said. “I thought I should wait until you felt ready to talk about it with me…”

“Aren’t you upset?” You asked.

“I guess.” he reached for a Lego, fiddling it in his free hand. “Being out cooled my head down a bit. I probably gave you more reason to be angry this time, so it wouldn’t be my place to decide when you’re ready to talk about it.” He chuckled. “I’m not very good at reading people, it seems.”

You sighed, reaching forward and taking the piece out of his hand, using your nail to easily snap off another piece that was attached. Jeonghan hummed. “Oh, that’s where it was.” he chuckled a bit, both of you now playing with identical plastic Lego pieces. You squeezed the piece in between your fingers, letting the ridges press into your flesh as you did so. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I just wanted you to feel ready to talk.”

“I’ve wanted to talk since you left….” you whispered, not looking at him as you continued to spin the piece in your hands. Jeonghan looked at you. “But whatever…it doesn’t matter anymore. I just want to forget about it.”

“You sure?” Jeonghan asked. “You look upset.” Despite that being true, you nodded your head, setting the piece back into his open palm. When he took it, his fingers curled around your own, turning it gently to place a kiss on your knuckles. “Then, do you want to help me finish this?”

“...What even is this?” You asked curiously. Jeonghan hummed, tilting his head.

“I want it to be a surprise,” he said.

“Oh come on…” you sighed. “After everything you put me through?” Jeonghan chuckled, leaning over to place a kiss on your temple.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m almost done with it, anyway. Can’t you tell?” He motioned to the pot sitting across from the both of you, then to what looked to be a stem and different colored petals.

“Flowers?” you asked, leaning forward with Jeonghan as he pulled the pieces closer to you. “Here. Can you get these round, red pieces? They’re going to make the petals.”

When you looked up at Jeonghan as he gave the request, you felt another deep breath take over your body. Only this time, your body didn’t curl in on itself or shake with violent coughs. You simply nodded your head, turning to shuffle through for the desired pieces.

The silence at the coffee table was still prevalent, but not as tense or uncomfortable as it was before. Despite neither of you taking the time to talk about what had transpired yet, having Jeonghan right at your side, gently chatting with you about the flowers, and clicking pieces together with you seemed to be enough to ease you for now. Even if things weren’t fully resolved at the moment, the way Jeonghan felt onto the small of your back with one hand, and leaned against you with an amused giggle as you both frantically tried to find desired pieces or snap them together, you knew things would be.

It took another hour and a half, the moon already hanging high over the apartment, when the flower pot was complete. You sighed, resting your elbow on the coffee table and looking over it with tired eyes. “It looks good,” you said.

“It does.” He agreed, only to take the set and pull it closer to you. You watched with curious eyes as he slid it close to you and smiled. “Here,” he said.

“What are you doing?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the base of the brown flower pot. Jeonghan shifted in his seat, eyeing you.

“They’re for you. Flowers.” he nodded.

“What?” you snorted. “These are flowers for me?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan’s tongue poked from his lips, swiping along the bottom one briefly. “I was going to get you regular flowers, but those die,” he said simply. Reaching forward, he poked the red flower hidden within the plastic bouquet. “These won’t. Like my love for you…”

“Ah…” you felt your cheeks heat up, covering them with your hands. Jeonghan chuckled in amusement, his cheeks a lighter shade of pink once those words left his mouth. “That’s cheesy.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.” you corrected. Jeonghan chuckled, watching as you examined the Lego set in your hands, a faint smile on your face.

“I am sorry for before,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“...I’m sorry too…” you said, eyeing him. “I don’t even remember what we were fighting about.” Jeonghan shrugged.

“I don’t, either.” He said simply, pulling you back into his side. You set the flower pot back on the coffee table, currently surrounded by empty plastic bags and boxes that needed to be cleared away. “But it upset you, so it’s important enough to warrant an apology.”

“Mmm..” you nodded, pressing into his side. The both of you sat in silence for a minute, your eyes studying the flowers until you asked. “Do you have any other sets we can put together?”

Jeonghan let out an eager little hum, nodding his head. “I do, indeed,” he said, your smile matching his as you watched him get up from his seat. As you watched him walk away, you felt silence fall across the coffee table again. But this time, it didn’t feel tense or awkward at all.

It felt good.

#seventeen fic #seventeen imagine #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoong jeonghan #jeonghan angst #reader insert #svt #kpop

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world-of-aus · 9 days ago

Text

Breaking The Ice

Pairing: Hockey Player!Bucky x Sports Photographer!Reader

Warning: More Angsty Dialogue. Perhaps a turning point?

Author's Note: Chapter 3 is here and i apologize for the delay but life caught up and tripped me up on the ice friends! I hope you enjoy this one, part four is in the editing phase and should be released shortly here! Enjoy my little buns!

You were halfway through editing Thursday’s shots when the email pinged.

Subject: Road Game - Montreal (Bus Departs 9:00 AM Friday) From: Bruins Media & Ops To: All Game Day Media Personnel

Hi team, Just a reminder we’re hitting the road tomorrow morning for our weekend game in Montreal. Bus departs from TD Garden at 9:00 AM sharp. Please be on time and ready to roll. — Operations Team

You settle back into the comforting cushions of your couch, the cold press of reality settling somewhere between your lungs. You’d known the game was coming. Of course you did. You’d memorized the Bruins’ media schedule the day you took the job with the team. But something about the email, about seeing it, turned your spine to glass. You hadn’t been prepared for this.

You were going to be on a bus with Bucky. With the team you reminded yourself.

A long, quiet ride. No press room noise to buffer the silence. No lens to hide behind. No safe, sterile space between the two of you. Just shared air, shared memories, and all the things the two of you hadn’t said.

Your laptop screen dimmed slightly as your fingers froze on the trackpad. The photo still open on the screen was the one you hadn’t been able to delete yet; Bucky, from the photoshoot, caught between a soft laugh and something quieter. That look that lingered. The one you’d seen once before, years ago, the night he’d promised not to forget you.

You clicked away from the image like it had burned you.

Your phone buzzed a moment later. Wanda.

Wanda: You good for the bus tomorrow? Want to sit together?

You hesitated for a beat before typing back.

Y/N: Yeah. Please.

You didn’t trust yourself to be alone with your thoughts. Not on that bus. Not with the echo of his voice still under your skin.

The next morning

The bus rumbled to life as the last few players climbed aboard, coffee cups in hand, duffel bags slung over their shoulders. You found a seat near the middle of the aisle beside Wanda, holding your camera bag on your lap like it might keep you safe, keep yourself from doing something silly.

The hum of voices rose and fell around you, players bantering, coaches murmuring over tablets, the rustle of protein bar wrappers and gear.

But none of it penetrated through you. Your thoughts already elsewhere, still stuck in that studio, with golden light spilling over Bucky’s jaw, with the sharp edge of what could’ve been catching in your chest.

Wanda didn’t speak right away, offering you a granola bar with a nudge of her elbow against yours. You took it, unwrapping it slowly, your head falling against the cool of the window with your first bite into the morning breakfast.

“He looked at me like I was still that girl,” you finally said, your voice a whisper above the engine's hum.

Wanda turned to you, quiet but present. “You’re not though.”

“I know,” you said with a nod. “But it felt like… like time folded. Just for a second. Like I was right back there on the rink with him, under the stars. Like none of the years in between mattered.”

Wanda didn’t interrupt. She just listened, eyes soft and steady as she watched you.

“I told myself I was over it,” you whispered. “That I’d moved on. That I could stand in front of him and feel nothing but professionalism. But then he stood there and looked at me like I still mattered. And I -” You blinked, jaw tightening. “I hated how much I wanted to believe it. To believe him. How much I still want too.”

Wanda reached over, squeezing your hand gently with yours. “You don’t have to hate that part of you, y/n. The part that still cares. That part that loved him. You can’t just un-love someone because they disappeared. The memories you two shared are always going to remain.”

You let the silence sit for a moment. Outside the window, the city peeled away into blurred trees and faded highways.

“He was everything,” you admitted quietly. “My best friend, my future, my safe place. And he let me go without even trying to hold on.”

“And now he’s here,” Wanda said gently, “and it’s like reopening a wound you thought had healed.”

You nodded, numbly taking another bite of granola.

“He didn’t just break your heart,” Wanda continued. “He disappeared from your life like you didn’t exist. But you do. And you’ve built something beautiful from the pieces he left behind.”

You swallowed hard, tears threatening to fall from the corners of your eyes. “So why does it still feel like I’m the one who got left behind? If it truly rose above it all, if I moved on why do I still feel like this?”

“Because you never got the closure you deserved,” Wanda said. “But you’re here now. And he gets to see the version of you that survived without him.”

You gave a quiet laugh, watery and soft. “The version of me who’s totally holding it together on this bus ride?”

Wanda smirked. “Hey, you’re doing better than me. If my ex showed up with cheekbones like that and a redemption arc, I’d throw myself out the window.”

That cracked a real smile out of you. Brief, but real.

They sat like that for a few minutes, the hum of the bus filling the quiet spaces between them. You leaned your head back, eyes closed, letting the movement of the road settle your nerves.

When your opened them again, your gaze drifted forward, instinct or something heavier pulling you there.

Bucky sat two rows ahead, his head leaned back against the hard head rest, earbuds in. As if he could sense your watching eyes, he tilts his head slightly just enough so that his eyes find yours through the narrow space between the seats.

His lips barely curl.

Your throat goes tight.

You turn away, heart pounding against your ribs like it still remembered what it felt like to be seen by him. Really seen.

Wanda watched you quietly. “You okay y/n?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared out the window and whispered, more to yourself than anything, “I don’t know.”

By the time the team bus pulled into the circular drive of the hotel in downtown Montreal, the late afternoon light had turned the city to gold. You stepped off the bus behind Wanda, your camera bag slung over one shoulder, as you tried not to let the weight of your thoughts show on your face.

Inside, the lobby buzzed with check-ins, team staff passing out room keys, and a concierge smiling too brightly at the herd of oversized athletes crowding their quiet foyer. You accepted your keycard and followed Wanda into the elevator, nodding politely at a couple of assistant coaches you shared the bus ride with. You rode up with Wanda to your floor only parting ways when you each reached your respective doors, the two of you promising to find one another later once you had settled in.

With a press of your room key to the door, you were slipping in, the hotel room door clicking shut behind you with a soft, solid thud. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

Muted sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long shadows over the sleek, modern furnishings. There was a king-sized bed with perfectly tucked corners, a streamlined desk, and a soft chair by the window that looked more decorative than comfortable. The air carried that familiar, sterile scent of industrial-grade linen wash and lemon polish—clean, impersonal, temporary.

You dropped your camera bag on the desk, pulling the strap over your head, rolling your shoulders. The pressure of the long day settled there like it always did. But today, it wasn’t just the weight of the equipment or the constant focus behind the lens.

It was the weight of him.

You moved to the bed and sat on the edge, elbows on your knees, face cradled briefly in your hands. The memory of the bus ride pulsed behind your closed eyes, Bucky’s voice low and tentative, Wanda’s knowing glance, the quiet ache in your chest that hadn’t dulled all day.

This wasn’t just any away game.

It was the yet another confrontation with the past you’d tried so hard to leave behind.

Your phone buzzed from where you’d tossed it on the nightstand.

You reached for it lazily, the familiar glow washing across your tired features as you unlocked it.

Subject: Team Dinner — Mandatory Attendance (Tonight @ 7 PM) From: Bruins Media & Ops To: All Staff & Personnel

Hi all, Please join us in the Montrose Room (second floor, off the main elevator) for a team dinner this evening at 7:00 PM sharp. This is a formal welcome dinner ahead of tomorrow’s game. Business casual, Bruin's gear optional. — Operations Team

You stared at the message for a long moment.

Mandatory.

Of course it was.

A humorless breath slipped out through your nose. You flopped back onto the bed, arms spread wide like you were trying to melt into the mattress, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Seven o’clock. That gave you just under two hours to shower, dig out something vaguely presentable, and brace for the very real possibility that you’d be eating dinner across the room from the man who once promised you forever.

You let your eyes close, just for a minute.

Long enough to feel the pull of old hopes and fresh wounds curl quietly beneath your ribs.

You didn’t know how long you laid there on the bed just staring up at the ceiling, trying not to feel anything too deeply.

But your mind wouldn’t slow down, enough for you to catch up. It kept pulling you backward through frozen memories of a different rink, a younger version of yourself holding a camera with frozen fingers and a heart full of unspoken things. A boy who skated up to you with wind in his smile and snowflakes on his lashes. Who called her Hot Shot like it was the softest secret in the world.

You rubbed the heel of your palm against your chest like that might quiet the sting.

You were young, you told yourself. You should’ve known better than to believe in forever.

But you had believed. Fully. Recklessly. Enough to let yourself hope that love could stretch across miles, across fame, across time.

A sharp knock jolted her out of your spiral.

You sat up fast, blinking. “One sec,” you called, quickly dragging yourself off the bed.

You opened the door, and of course, it was Wanda.

Loose joggers, hair in a topknot, hotel slippers like she owned the place. A granola bar in one hand, water bottle in the other. The look on her face said she knew exactly what she was walking into.

“Thought I’d find you marinating in your feelings,” Wanda said, walking in without waiting for permission.

You shut the door behind her with a soft laugh that almost caught in your throat. “How’d you know?”

“Because I know you. And because the second I saw that dinner email I figured you’d either be sleeping, crying, or composing an emotionally complicated photo essay in your head.” She dropped the water bottle onto the nightstand and flopped down beside you on the bed. “Please tell me it’s not the crying one.”

You cracked a smile, even if it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Not yet.”

Wanda peeled open the granola bar and offered you half, a smile reaching her eyes when you took her offered half.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You just sat, shoulders brushing, the quiet full of history and comfort.

“I saw him watching you on the bus.” she spoke softly.

You didn’t look at her. “I know.”

“He looked wrecked y/n.”

Your throat tightened. “So did I.”

Wanda’s hand found yours, squeezing. “You’re allowed to be hurt, you know. You don’t have to hide it.”

“I know,” you whispered. “It’s just, it’s harder when he’s here. When he’s real again.”

Wanda nodded. “You think you’re prepared for that moment. That you’ll be cool or detached or emotionally evolved. And then boom, there he is, and it’s all back.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I’m not mad that it still hurts. I’m mad that part of me still -” You cut herself off.

“Still loves him?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Wanda leaned her head against your shoulder. “You don’t owe him anything tonight. Not a look. Not a smile. Not forgiveness. But you do owe yourself kindness. So if you want to go to that dinner and fake-laugh at the trainer’s dumb jokes just to survive it, I’ll be right there doing it with you. And if you need to ditch halfway through and eat vending machine chips in this room instead, I’ll do that too.”

Your throat ached with unshed tears.

“You always show up for me,” you murmured.

Wanda bumped your shoulder. “Yeah, well. You’d do the same. But also I’d like to see you in that black top you packed. The one that makes you look like you run an art gallery and secretly ride a motorcycle.”

You laughed, finally—a soft, breathy thing that pulled something loose in your chest.

“Okay,” you said, wiping beneath your eyes. “Okay. Let’s get ready.”

After Wanda left you to get ready in her own room, you stood in front of the full-length mirror near the closet, still wrapped in a towel, hair damp from the shower you had forced yourself into. Your suitcase lay open at your feet like a challenge, clothes folded in half-organized piles, none of them quite right.

You stared at yourself for a long moment. Water clung to your collarbone, slid in slow droplets toward your chest.

Part of you wanted to dress down, blend into the background like you always did when things felt too loud inside. But Wanda’s voice echoed gently in yout ears:

You don’t owe him anything… but you do owe yourself kindness.

And maybe kindness tonight meant feeling a little powerful.

You pulled out the black top, the one Wanda had mentioned. It was simple, but sharp. Sleeveless, with a soft drape at the neckline that hinted at confidence you didn’t always wear. You paired it with dark jeans and low boots, brushed a warm shimmer over your cheeks and added a swipe of deep rose to your lips.

Nothing loud. Just enough to feel steady.

You clipped on a pair of small gold hoops, running your fingers through your hair to give it shape, and stood back to look at the final version of yourself in the mirror.

You didn’t look like the girl on the ice with Bucky Barnes. Or the girl who had waited for calls that never came.

You looked like y/f/n y/l/n. Bruin's photographer. A woman with your own damn light.

Still, your hand hovered over your necklace—a delicate gold chain with a tiny camera charm you hadn’t taken off since college. Bucky had given it to you the night before he left for the draft.

You let your fingers graze it for a beat too long, then turned away.

The elevator ride to the second floor was quiet. The hallway buzzed faintly with voices as you neared the Montrose Room, golden light spilling out from the open double doors.

You paused just outside, taking a slow breath.

Inside, the space was warm and softly elegant. A long dining table stretched down the center, already surrounded by staff and players. A buffet lined the far wall, and someone was pouring wine into glasses at a side station. It smelled like garlic, fresh bread, and some kind of roasted meat.

You spotted Wanda across the room waving you over with a subtle nod.

You moved toward her, weaving past a group of assistant coaches and an equipment manager. Conversation buzzed around you; laughter, chairs scraping lightly, the kind of team banter you’d grown used to tuning out when you were behind the lens.

Wanda had saved you a seat at the far end, tucked just enough away from the center to offer breathing room. You slipped into it gratefully.

“You look good,” Wanda said as she leaned in. “Like, boss bitch good.”

You gave her a dry smile. “Let’s hope I don’t sweat through it.”

But before Wanda could respond, the room shifted.

A slight hush fell, one of those subtle, collective shifts of energy you only noticed if you were paying attention.

You turned toward the doorway.

And there he was.

Freshly showered, damp curls falling across his forehead, dressed in dark slacks and a slate button-down that pulled slightly across his chest. His team jacket hung over one arm, slung casually like he didn’t know the effect he had walking into a room.

He scanned the space, eyes grazing across people, until they landed on you.

For one second, just one, time dropped out.

Your breath caught. Your stomach folding in on itself, sharp and sudden.

His expression didn’t change. Not much. But something flickered there, an ache. A memory, sharp and swift.

He didn’t look away.

Neither did you.

Then, slowly, he gave a slight nod of his head. Almost imperceptible. A gesture meant just for you.

You lifted your chin a fraction. Not defiant. Not open. Just steady.

The moment broke when the head coach clapped a hand on Bucky’s back and drew him further into the room with a grin and a loud welcome.

Wanda reached for her wine. “Well,” she murmured. “That wasn’t nothing.”

You reached for yours too. “No,” you said quietly. “It really wasn’t.”

Dinner unfolded around you like a movie you weren’t fully watching.

You kept your eyes on the people closest to you; Wanda, a few assistant coaches, some of the PR staff you saw daily, but you felt Bucky across the room like a pull in your chest, a thread stitched into your ribs that tugged tighter every time he laughed or spoke.

He was seated just a few spots down from you, angled across the table. Not close enough to speak without raising your voice, but close enough to feel the heat of his presence in every cell.

You caught him watching you twice, once when you tipped your head back to laugh at something Wanda said, and again when you leaned in to share a quiet word with the video analyst beside you. Both times, when your eyes found his, he didn’t look away.

Neither did you.

But you didn’t smile. And he didn’t either.

The tension settled like static around the two of you.

As dessert plates were cleared and a few of the younger players got up to grab seconds, you excused yourself quietly and stood, moving toward the water station near the back.

You were reaching for a glass when you heard the quiet, familiar scrape of a chair behind you.

And then, his voice, low and close.

“‘Scuse me.”

You turned, but too late. He brushed past you, his shoulder just barely grazing yours.

The contact was fleeting, but it lit your nerves like a struck match.

You caught his scent, something clean, woodsy, familiar in a way that made your stomach twist and your chest tighten.

Bucky didn’t stop walking.

But as he passed, his fingers ghosted across the rim of the water pitcher like he needed something to do with his hands. Like he knew you were watching him.

And you were.

God, you were.

Back at the table, Wanda gave you a look that said everything.

You just shook your head and sipped your water like your heart wasn’t crawling up your throat.

The hotel dining room had thinned out to soft murmurs and clinking glasses as the night grew later. Most of the team and staff had already made their way to the elevators, laughter echoing faintly from the lobby as goodbyes were exchanged.

You stayed behind, lingering near one of the empty tables, your fingers loosely wrapped around your half-full glass of water. The glow from the sconces along the wall cast a soft amber hue across the room. You felt him before you saw him, his presence, a shift in the air behind you. You didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Bucky stepped up beside you, close but not touching. Not yet.

They stood there in silence for a long moment. No words. Just the weight of four years, of all the could-have-beens and never-should-haves hanging between the two of you like a fog.

When you finally glanced over at him, you found his gaze already on you.

And then, softly earnestly Bucky spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day,” he said. “Back at the shoot.”

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t look away either.

“About how missing someone doesn’t mean you get them back.”

Your throat tightened. Those words had haunted you for a long time that night haunted you more after you’d said them aloud to him.

Bucky exhaled, his voice low and steady. “You were right. I know nothing I do can erase what I did. And I know I don’t get to just ask to go back.”

Your expression softened, just barely. You didn’t trust yourself to speak yet.

“I’m not asking to pick up where we left off,” he said gently. “I know that’s not fair to you. But I’m here now, and I just - I want to try. To build something that makes sense between us again. Even if it’s not what it used to be. Even if it’s just a way to be around you without all the silence.”

You looked down at your glass for a moment, then placed it gently on the table.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you said quietly.

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “Because it still hurts?”

You nodded once. “Because I don’t think I could survive losing you again.”

Those words landed heavy. Bucky’s jaw flexed, his eyes shining under the soft light.

“I would never let that happen again,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “I know I made the mistake once letting the noise, the pressure, everything drown out what mattered most. But I’ve changed. I’ve had to. And I will never put us in that place again. Not you, not me.”

You blinked hard, and for a moment, you looked like you might break again. But you didn’t. You stood tall, still guarded, but not closed.

“I want to believe you,” you whispered. “And i think part of me already does, because a part of me always will."

He nodded, slowly.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “I don’t need everything. I just need a beginning.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time, it didn’t feel sharp or strained. It was quieter. Gentler. A soft space where something might start to grow again.

You glanced down at the floor, then back up at him. “This doesn’t fix everything you know that right?"

“I know,” Bucky said. “But maybe it’s a step.”

Your lips curved, barely a flicker of a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes but held promise.

“Maybe.”

He didn’t push for more. Didn’t reach for your hand or ask for one more chance.

He just stood there with you in the quiet, letting you know without words that you weren’t alone in this anymore.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to carry it all by yourself.

The hallway was quiet as you walked back to your room, the low hum of the hotel’s dim lighting buzzing faintly above you. The long day pressed into your limbs, but your mind felt strangely light.

Bucky’s voice still echoing softly in your ears. “I just need a beginning.”

You stopped in front of your room, slid the key card into the lock, and stepped inside. The door clicking shut behind you. The air in the room was cool and still. Familiar. Safe.

You leaned back against the door, your eyes fluttering closed.

It wasn’t forgiveness yet. It wasn’t even closure. But it was something. A breath. A beginning. And after years of carrying the ache of what you’d lost, tonight felt like the first time you hadn’t felt buried under it.

You crossed the room slowly, placing your boots by the chair, your fingers brushing over the neatly made bedspread. Outside the window, the city blinked on, lights stretching into the distance like tiny stars.

Maybe, you thought.

Maybe this didn’t have to be as complicated as you’d feared. Maybe the heartbreak you’d both endured had carved out space for something new to grow—something gentler, steadier.

You were exactly where you’d dreamed of being. Photographing for the team you’d loved since childhood. Carving your place into this fast, shining world. And Bucky—he was here too, standing tall in the dream he’d chased all his life.

You had both made it.

So why couldn’t you be happy?

Why couldn’t you, in your own way, be happy together?

You slid under the covers, the warmth of the sheets wrapping around you as you exhaled slowly, deeply.

Maybe this was your step. Not toward what you used to be, but toward who you were now.

And for the first time in years, that thought didn’t scare you.

It gave you peace.

And as your eyes drifted closed, you let herself believe just a little that maybe they could move forward. Together.

Maybe this could be a start.

#hockey player!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes au

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borathae · 5 months ago

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Grief is a funny thing

"Grief is a funny thing. You think that you got over it until you are sitting on a random bench, on a random Monday night and it comes back to remind you that it will always be part of you."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: Angst, married life!AU, Hurt & Comfort

Warnings: OC graduated yaay!!, but it brings up old memories for her and she is in a state of guilt & grief, talk about loss of family and grief that won't leave, tears, but Jungkook is there for her and he is such a comfort, i love him a lot

Wordcount: 2.1k

a/n: sometimes i have the desire to write something angsty for the aaol!couple. listennn, i reread some of the main chapters again and i wanted to write something about OC's grief over her brother and how Kook handles her grief episodes. soo that's why this was created <3

You graduated. You actually did it. You are officially a person with a masters degree. You are something. The degree is at home where you left it. On the living room coffee table next to an empty glass of water.

You can’t look at it.

Nobody would get you if you told them that you don’t want to look at it, because it’s insane. You are aware of it. For years, all you dreamt of was being something one day. And then it happened and you were able to pursue your dream education and to graduate. You literally fulfilled your biggest dream, it should make you happy and it does, but it also doesn’t. Deep down in your heart you know the reason for it, but you aren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet. It would make you cry. You hate crying for negative reasons.

Your phone rings. This is the third time it does and you know that you can’t ignore whoever is calling you any longer.

Your heart stings when you check their ID.

Your Jungkookie is calling. You pick up, feeling guilty as you do.

“Yes?”

“Oh my god, finally. Thank god. Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for what feels like hours. Are you okay?” Jungkook sounds distressed on the other side of the line. Understandably. It is currently one in the morning and you left without warning.

“I’m okay, just went for a walk.”

“At one in the morning?” he sounds confused. Understandably so. You are normally sleeping at this time of day.

“Yeah, well. Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s pouring buckets right now.”

“I guess it is.”

Silence on his side where he clearly tries to process what you are saying.

“Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up”, he says in the end.

“Paradis. The bench in front of it.”

Another silence. Understandably. You never went back there again after quitting your job.

“Just…just stay there. I’ll be quick”, Jungkook tries to sound neutral, but the anxiety is clear in his voice.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I adore you.”

“I adore you too.”

The call ends. You shove the phone back into your jacket pocket and continue to stare at the sign while the rain pours down on you. Jungkook doesn’t need to worry. You weren’t planning on leaving this bench for quite a while. All of this studying about how to help people and you feel helpless. It almost paralyzes you and makes time pass in a blur.

Jungkook runs to get to you, getting wet even under the umbrella as the water slaps against him. He calls out your name. You turn your head slowly, looking at him with tired, empty eyes.

“Oh my god, my love. You scared me so much. Why would you leave without saying anything?” he says, falling around your neck to hug you against him.

Your body falls into him. He is warm and his hug is tight. He cradles the back of your head, twisting parts of your jacket with his other hand.

“You made me worry like crazy. Please don’t ever do this again”, he says between little kisses all over your face and head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted, my love. Just tell me what’s wrong, please.”

Now that he is with you and you are in his arms, the state of you is so clear to you.

“I’m really cold.”

“No wonder. It’s fucking November and you’re sitting here getting drenched.” He says, trying to warm you by rubbing your back. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You let him help you to your feet. You hook arms with him, hugging his arm with both hands. You even go as far as to rest your head against it. Jungkook holds the umbrella even though you and he are already soaked to the bones.

“You’re worrying me, my love. What’s the matter?” he asks.

You and he walk back to his car at a slow pace.

“I don’t know”, you say.

“Why did you come here? Out of all the places?”

“I don’t know. I was at my old place too. It’s a storehouse for the restaurant these days.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t really get why you’re here and what you’re doing. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t look at it.”

“Look at what?”

“My masters.”

Silence. You can watch him as he processes what you said. You can also see how he is trying so hard to be supportive.

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, but why? I’m not judging, just having a hard time understanding this correctly.”

You cuddle closer. He always knows exactly what to say. It feels reassuring when he is honest. He might not understand, but he wants to. This is what unconditional love feels like.

“Whenever I look at it, I feel sick. I fulfilled my biggest dream and I’m happy, but I also feel lost.”

“I see. Now I understand. It’s scary knowing that something as big as college is over, but didn’t you play with the idea of doing your PhDs too?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“See? It’s not over yet if you want to. You have all the choices in the world. You can open your praxis or pursue your doctor’s degree. You have all the possibilities in the world. I’ll support you in any of them.”

“I guess.”

“Unless that’s what you’re lost with. Do you struggle with deciding?”

“I struggle with accepting the reality that I am something.”

“No, my love”, he gasps.

“I feel unworthy of it. I had this life”, you say, gesturing at the general direction of Paradis. “And now I have a Masters in psychology with chances of becoming a fucking doctor. It’s insane. I shouldn’t have this.”

“Yes, you should”, Jungkook insists loudly, furrowing his brows, “you worked so hard for it. I had to carry you to bed sometimes when you fell asleep by your desk because you were so exhausted from studying. Remember?”

“Yeah.”

“See? You literally worked your ass off for it. You should have it, for fuck’s sake. You wanted it for years and I won’t let you feel like this now.”

You and he stop in front of his car. He shakes you by your shoulders gently as if to shake you awake from your self-deprecating nightmare.

“You’re intelligent, resourceful and hardworking, ambitious and resilient and you got your degree because of that. You are amazing and you worked hard for it. You deserve it.”

You nod your head, but say nothing to it.

“Okay, my love?”

He looks at you. You look at your feet.

“Okay, my love?” he stresses, caressing your cheek gently.

“Jungkook, I miss my brother”, you confess what truly hurts so bad, instantly breaking into tears.

“Oh ___ my love, I’m sorry. Come here”, Jungkook gasps, wrapping his unoccupied arm around you.

You melt into his chest, sobbing into it while he holds you and comforts you.

“He and I, we always fantasised about how it would be to become something. He always talked about sending me off to college one day. But he’s dead and he won’t ever see that I actually did it. He’s dead. Why is he fucking dead?”

“Oh my love. I’m sorry. Life is so unfair”, Jungkook gets out, crying with you.

“It hurts so bad. He was supposed to see me off to college and, and see me graduate.”

“He was. He really was”, Jungkook agrees, sobbing afterwards which gives you so much comfort. It feels so reassuring and comforting so cry with him. You don’t even mind crying for negative reasons when he is with you.

“I feel so guilty. He was supposed to escape this life with me. We were supposed to get healthy and be happy.”

“You were, my love. But it’s not your fault. He wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for changing your life for the better.”

“I know, but it still hurts.”

You look up at Jungkook, spilling tears. He does as well, cradling your cheek.

“He was supposed to know you. He was supposed to walk me down the aisle and, and be happy for me because I fell in love with someone like you.”

Jungkook smiles, sniffling.

“He was supposed to be there on my happiest days. Why did he have to die?”

“I don’t know and it’s so unfair.”

“It is. He, he was supposed to be there for me on those days. He was…” A sob interrupts you. Jungkook soothes it with gentle touches to your arms. “It hurts so much to know that he won’t ever see who I became. I will always stay this little, drug addicted orphan girl to him. It hurts so bad that I never became someone different to him.”

“No, my love no. I’m sure that his spirit is still somewhere out there and he watched you grow up and become who you are today, my love.”

“Do you really think that?” you ask, looking at him with child-like hopefulness in your eyes.

“I do. I’m sure he is currently looking down at you and he feels proud and happy.”

“I hope so”, you say and lower your head. Tears drip down from your cheeks. “Urgh god, I hate crying”, you get out, wiping at your own face aggressively.

“Hey no.” Jungkook stops you gently. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

You look up at him while he holds your hands. He caresses your chin with the same hand, using his thumb for it.

“Let’s go home, okay?” he suggests in a soft voice.

You nod your head.

“Come on, I’ll drive.”

You let him help you into the car. You stare outside as he drives off and you continue to stare outside as he drives through the city. It’s late and it's raining, which means that the streets are almost empty for a change. Jungkook doesn’t have the radio on. The purring of the car and the rain against the window are all the noises you hear. He has his hand on your thigh, giving you constant rubs of comfort. It’s warm and it’s nice.

You and he drove for a while when you break the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He glances at you.

“For what?”

“For running off without warning. For being so ungrateful for my masters. For dumping all of my stuff on you.”

“I’m not even gonna play into this right now because there’s nothing for you to be sorry for”, Jungkook answers you with slight anger in his voice. He isn’t angry at you, but your self-deprecating use of words.

You hold his hand.

“I’m just so messy and you’re so good”, you confess.

“You’re tired and you’re exhausted. Today was a very overwhelming day. Don’t believe your thoughts anymore, my love.”

You and he stop at a red light.

“You love me, right?”

Jungkook instantly leans over to kiss you. First your lips, then your forehead.

“I love you so much”, he whispers, cradling your cheek and gazing deep into your eyes. “I love everything about you, even the messiest and darkest parts. I always have and always will.”

You can’t bear to look into his eyes anymore, lowering your head shyly. The red light switches from red to green back to red again in the time you and he sit in the car and let his words sink in. The rain sounds calming as it hits the car.

“What are you thinking right now?” he asks in a quiet, gentle voice.

“A lot. Grief and guilt and, and… I guess, I’m thinking that I don’t feel overwhelmed anymore now that I talked about it with you.”

“Yes? This makes me happy to hear. I’ll always be there for you. And I’ll always come and get you from wherever you run off to.”

He makes you laugh. Jungkook laughs with you, kissing your forehead. The light switches to green. He takes this chance and drives off, holding your hand as he does.

“Jungkook, I wanna take a shower and then talk in bed”, you tell him.

“That sounds good. We’ll shower and then we’ll cuddle and you can tell me all about your brother.”

“But I already told you everything.”

“And? It won’t ever be boring to me.”

“Oh.”

A deep breath fills your lungs and as it leaves you again, you feel lighter. You rest your head against the window, looking at him. The rainy night city passes him, the changing lights paint the prettiest of artworks onto his face.

“You’re the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand because that is all he can do right now in fear of looking away from traffic for too long.

“I can say the same about you, my love.”

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cirqosmos · 2 years ago

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Did I, A Side Character Became the Male Lead's Wife?!

2023 | 13+ | ONESHOT | YANG JUNGWON × READER | -> PART 2

SUMMARY you — a side character in a royal novel doing absolutely nothing but enjoy your rich ass yet boring life, only watching over the female lead and doing your job in protecting her, only for a pair of kittenish eyes to fall not upon the female lead but on you, unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE not me writing a whole ass oneshot at 5am bcs of that sweet ask from that one anon, imma name u serotonin dopamine anon lmao- and jungwon bae u r truly my muse.. also inspired by sum manhwas cuz I binge read 90+ chapters in less than a day 💀💀💀 plus happy 900+ followers for me <333 mom wake up I'm famous even tho I'll never let u know what my secret writing blog is about 😊😊

a side character, how cute?

well, you only came to know of this very horrible (not really) fact that you're nothing close to a main character's vibes cause look at you babe, where's the sparkling shiny starry dust on you as you walked through the red carpet at the ball?

and did they even spare a glance at you? unfortunately, nope. because the female lead, Liz; was your enemy, at least in how your character was written in the novel by the goddamn author which was you.

yes, that's right!

you, a hella introverted author dwelling in the deepest corner of her room doing nothing but spent an ungodly amount of hours creating the perfect and enchanting characters after crying for major character death of a fic a few years ago. wiping your dripping tears off your cheeks in a comical way as you pull open your laptop and risk your 20/20 vision for life, just so you can reverse the aching pain in your chest that you wore a thick ass glasses now.

Liz, the female lead. Swooning over her was your religion, throwing not one but a ten whole buckets explaining how perfect she was—or how tremendously kind she was, delicate and utterly sweet. patting yourself on the back for creating such a goddess of a character, so it's only wise for you to give her a fitting male lead, right? Okay we'll talk about that later since it's about you right now.

So how did you end up in your novel? Well, because of one fateful day of you doing absolutely nothing but taking a goddamn rest, and whoever the god in heaven that just randomly decided to throw you in the novel you wrote yourself—must be utterly insane. Perfect indeed!

it took you a humongous realisation to see yourself in a dark green puffy dress that represents jealousy, envy, and betrayal—which also represents the side character standing behind the female lead on the thick cover of your book. you've originally written her as that wicked best friend that uses her seductive way of speech to seduce men, and at last turning her back at the female lead by accusing her of a horrendous crime.

her fatal fate consists of her head being snapped by the guillotine, unfortunately. but for you, not really, cause you are so in for destroying wicked characters but jokes on you—you're now in the body of that character.

pfft, can't the gods put you in a character that lives near the sea, with your straw hat on and as you drank your lemon juice away from the public drama, angsty dialogues, cringe moments you yourself have created because you don't have atleast an ounce of social skills that's why you pour it all on your characters.

"oh my apologies, milady— pfft—" three ladies sticking with each other like a super glue, had thrown the glass of wine on the female lead's gown—earning a series of gasps from everyone who saw but you were sure won't pay an ounce of consideration towards her as you had written almost everyone in this novel as "the world against the weak, fragile character."

oh, right. the hyena laughters of those you describe in episode 3 of "the flashy ball"; the three evil sisters, because why not? they added the extra spices in your tongue to the point you couldn't wait for them to get slap by the female lead or possibly someone.

ah, the tremendous satisfaction.

and you were one of that person whose hands itching to smash their skull apart, you cringed enormously at them as they were the ones that brought total trouble wherever they went or whoever are unlucky enough to get in their way. unfortunately, you seal your female lead's fate with them as she need some little obstacles, doesn't she?

you as hell were not sure what you're supposed to do, whether to just let things happen as the story goes or you do the male lead's job in protecting the female lead cause you have no idea why is he taking such a long time to appear, when he should've made his grand entrance at the freaking introduction?

and you wrote it that way cause you got fed up with male leads making their first appearance at the ball, and somehow quickly gaining the female lead's heart like Cinderella cause dear lord where's the slow burn?

just say, you're a conservative grandma type of a mindset or that you are skeptical over love at first sight. yep, you're right. that's why you ain't gonna let your precious female lead get bullied in front of your very eyes. she's like your granddaughter right now, seriously.

a shriek echoed through the entire ball, gaining everyone's attention. "oh my god! my dress! you— lady Liz! who did you even brought with you?!"

oh right, you forgot it's your first time at the ball either. "my apologies, milady. it's just that i saw a bunch of hyenas roaming around.." you rubbed the back of your neck.

"hyenas?! guards—"

"chill, what's the commotion here?" a bright dashing blonde haired man in a red royal suit came around, with sets of stars dusting upon his form which you already realise to be part of the main characters but unfortunately you forgot. you ain't having that extra superhuman memory just because you are an author.

the bunch of hyenas before you reasoned with the prince, but you slowly realise that the prince was none other than Prince Jake. Inspired by that one puppy image idol from fourth generation of kpop, you were apparently slurping your noodles in the local restaurant when you watched him imitating a dog from the tv, causing you to choke on your noodles.

it's safe to say, he's hot enough that he had to be part of your main characters. aah, that signature dashing smile of his as he defended the female lead with his wisely chosen string of words which immediately melted everyone's heart at sight.

times like this you wish you were actually the female lead, but the logical side of you beg to differ; you are not emotionally capable of spewing cringy romantic words for that's only reserved for writing. So thank you, i'll pass.

Surely, Prince Jake ain't the male lead for your precious female lead but you just let them converse with each other despite her with her absolute kindness, urging you to talk with them too, atleast a word. it sort of felt for a moment like she was trying to match you with the prince.

like no please, you'd rather not to. hot guys are hot, but they're not worth the emotional investment past the fangirling section.

plus the prince doesn't seem interested you as he doesn't spare not even one look at you which obviously you couldn't care any less, you sneakily went out the ball after a series of mishaps—for example your heavy puffy ass gown with its sole purpose to only look pretty but the reality ain't that pretty to say the least, panting like a dog as you took each step towards the entrance all while cussing yourself for ignoring your logical part of brain that you shouldn't have been adding humongous useless words to describe the gown just to make it sound extremely pleasing to the readers.

now you're the one to bear the consequences of your own writing, the fuck.

"one! two!—" a long, long, depressing sigh echoes. "three! ah!—" consequently falling upon your face, what a perfect day indeed. you just wanted to go home, tuck yourself in your comforting blanket, eat your hot cup of ramen or indulge yourself in the sea of chocolate while daydreaming of your favourite idols and fictional characters.

not this awful disaster of you getting tangled in the courts' affairs.

"i suppose, you need help, milady?"

oh no, certainly not. don't call me milady, pretend i do not exist for i certainly do not have the social skills to pretend that i like you, or form a decent conversation especially with men.

"milady?"

you curled yourself, burying your head into the comfort of your gowns. wondering quite a bit of how odd you look in the middle of the hallway.

"milady?" his voice-like whisper came closer, obviously standing beside you right now. "are you okay?"

fuck it. "please, i beg of you to kindly leave me alone as my day has been utterly ruined and—" oh wait, he seems oddly familiar. those lush fluffy hair and kittenish orbs that only softens among those he were close enough.

prince jungwon.

oh! the male lead, oh my god! your jaw hang so low it fell on the ground, your eyes sparkled in dozens of star like universe as you took in his marvelous beauty that you had spent creating meticulously after studying all the '101 rules of how to create the perfect male lead that had the readers heart evaporating & a huge ass green forest that certainly would cause blazing flames'.

"oh my god! you look absolutely gorgeous, i've done it really well didn't i?! oh my god!"

"o-oh—! absolutely, you did well!" he immediately replied back, pressing his lips tight nervously.

wait what? what did he say? oh shit, oh well, covering your mouth instantly as you accidentally let it out before the prince, your precious male lead that you solely created for the female lead. "i—.."

the prince, your very precious character—obviously taken aback with a slight blush dusting of his adorable cheeks as he raise his fist up to his lips, coughing a couple of seconds. a personality trait you very well are familiar of cause that's how you wrote him when he fall in love with the female lead.

your eyes ogled out at that familiar sight, screaming at the back of your mind—wait, wait! you're not supposed to fall in love with me, you idiot! go back! go inside the ball, she's inside there!

"that's oddly brave of you, milady. i'd certainly go as far as to say that i've never seen such traits from a lady." kitten eyes softening at you, crouching down as he lend both of his hands for you. you raised your eyebrow confusingly at what is he trying to pull at but you realise he was intending to get you up.

"u-uhm? uh, sorry. i could get up on my own, actually." yeah, that's what you did. pushing yourself back up despite his protests because you ain't gonna let him fall any further for you, nah uh, not in this life, your mission is to get him and your female lead together inside the frames of birds holding flower wreaths as they went on to their happily ever after.

not with you!

"may i have the honour to know your name, though, milady?" why the fuck isn't he leaving, what is there so interesting in you that he is still standing here asking you such generic questions.

you shouldn't be having the characters attention on you as you obviously wrote it that way, and that even though your character in the novel had tried to get the prince's heart, despite resorting to foul actions, that he never truly had been attracted to her despite this characters' seductive aura.

for you squealed so loud at the scene you wrote, with jungwon putting her in her place. "you are not her, and you would never be her." along with the bunch of your readers hosting a flamboyant celebration under the comments, screaming over how loyal he was.

so what in the actual fuck is this?

"you don't need my name." you nonchalantly answered.

"my apologies?"

"you see, my best friend is in the ball—" you gestured your hands to the entrance of the ballroom, "and she needs your help more than i do."

"wait? why would she need my help?" his eyebrows knitted together in utter confusion as you pushed him through his back.

"of course, she do! don't ask anything!"

"wait!— my name is!" he forcefully turn to face you again, but you immediately covered his mouth with your hands—kabedonning him against the wall.

an excruciating silence occured between you two in the silent hallway, Jungwon freezing to his core when your other hand shoot beside his head.

"listen i don't need your name, dear sir." you emphasise each word, you certainly don't need to know his name nor his status as a prince, not wanting to risk any possible connection with him judging by how he acted before you just now.

"b-but!" his words were muffled into the void as you cupped his mouth tighter.

"shh, shh. stop talking and listen, will you?!"

jungwon nodded slowly, what an odd situation he was in right now, he thought. but somehow he likes it.

"so first step, is go inside the ballroom. second, look for the lady in pink gown, and third—"

"t-third?"

"third is tell her your name! my best friend needs it more than i do!" you release him from your grasp as you went to swing open the huge double door, "now go!" waving a goodbye before kicking his body through the entrance, pulling the door back with your entire strength despite his protests.

oh of course, you finally let out a gag after suppressing it in front of him the entire time as you've never had a proper conversation with a male without stuttering, somewhat a sad tragedy for you, unfortunately. you felt quite guilty about your readers who swoon over the romances you wrote between your leads, weeping over how you're so good at it—not knowing you're a complete introvert with only a gigantic ass dictionary with you.

finally, the male lead and female lead's romances are about to start! you squealed with your hands clasping as you went on your way to the carriage, gesturing for the rider to embark on the way to your heavenly puffy manor with the widest big grin ever that it had him questioning you, "has any gentleman had caught your heart, milady? a couple of hours ago, you were often beyond distraught to attend the ball but insisted when you heard Lady Liz was going."

"oh, you silly." you giggled as you swayed your hand, "of course, that's one of the reasons. but there's another one.."

"may i ask what is it, then?"

you leaned in closer, urging him to get closer as you whispered. "i got the chance to become a Cupid!"

"a Cupid?" you squealed before the old man, hopping like a child for quite awhile before flying into the carriage much to his surprise, but only shook his head in amusement—appalled by how his mistress had changed so much.

"so?" you couldn't help yourself from pulling out the widest eccentric grin at the female lead, extremely curious and ecstatic over what romances had bloom between her and Jungwon.

Liz raises her eyebrow in confusion, "so?.. what do you mean, milady?"

you shrugged, falling back to your seat as you raise your eyebrow in a comical way, "that.." whispering ever so seductively, "prince."

"p-prince?

"yes!" the teacup rattles at your excitement oozing so much that you tapped the table a couple of times. "what happen? what's the tea~"

she lets out a soft giggle, a bit amused by your excitement. "i have no idea what you're trying to imply, milady."

"wait? what are you saying? didn't the prince went to you last night?"

Liz shook her head slowly, her expressions clearly stating that she absolutely don't know what and who you were talking about as a smile pulled up on her lips once again, taking a few sip from her teacup.

veins popped out from your neck as it dawned on you, your head snapped towards the castle on top of the mountain, you stupid of a prince! you cussed at him endlessly at the back of your mind, tightening your fist as your ears and nose fuming in anger. how dare he? he didn't listen to you at all? what in the actual fuck? would this somehow divert the original route? a dozen question arise into your mind one after another, causing you to let out an exaggerated sigh.

facepalming yourself as you imagined the imaginary heavenly light on top of you, weeping to yourself about how tremendously unlucky you are to have a hard headed male lead. it's impossible, you have never added a trait so irritating like this in his profile so how could this happen?

"milady?" the gentle voice of your precious female lead pulled you out of your inner desperation, you leaned in closer, whining so much over how unlucky you were and such, the rest only being in your mind as you pouted.

"ah, i remember now, the prince—"

"WHAT?—" you immediately seated yourself after giving her a potential heart attack, "my apologies, what did you actually.. remember?"

"i assume you were talking about the prince from yesterday? prince jake?"

"no not that bitch— oh certainly not him, ehem.." you took a couple of exaggerated coughs, avoiding her evident confusion. "isn't there a prince.. name jungwon with you that night?"

"oh my goodness! right! prince jungwon!" she shook her head in disbelief with her finger on her head.

right, how did you even forgot that the female lead in front of you had a "weak ass memory" in her profile description. tsk tsk, truly a forgetful author you are. you should be trying your best to remember the things you wrote before and revise it as best as you can, to avoid any possible problems in the future, atleast.

"right, how did i even forget, the prince asked me for your name, milady—"

"huh?" you look at her with confusion, as you were out of reality a couple of seconds ago. your orbs terribly widened as her words slowly sinking in to your brain. "HUH?"

ask your name?! why your name, why not hers?! what did the prince ate that night before stumbling onto your way that he had to ask for your name before the female lead—his own lover?!

laughing awkwardly, you raise your leg on top of another as you nervously swayed your hands repeatedly. "oh dear, oh dear. you might have heard it wrong, the prince?—" snorting outloud as you gestured to yourself, "asking for my name? what a funny news!"

"i didn't, milady. the prince came to me and asked me for your name, as he was immensely curious of who you are so i—"

"so what?—" you can't believe this, you really can't bring yourself to believe any words she was uttering. you should have been bestowed by the news that the prince had taken an interest in her, a hand in marriage, or anything, anything as long as you're out of the picture! "y-you didn't tell him my name, d-didn't you?"

"of course, i did!" exclaimed she did with the widest grin ever.

why are you so freaking happy over this?! clasping your head in your hands as you tragically fall on your knees causing the lady to gasp in shock, ushering to your side to get you up.

"milady?! what's wrong?"

"d-dear," you pouted as you look up to her, "you didn't tell him where my manor's at, r-right?"

she simply replied, "i did? the prince informed me that he's going to send a letter for you to be his partner to the ball."

an imaginary arrow struck back to your heart, forming a humongous hole that threatens to give you a panic attack. what? what in the actual fuck? did you accidentally did something to divert the original story you yourself created? but you didn't even do anything! you tried to do your best to keep the interaction with him as short as possible and he dared to take an interest in you?!

"milady, a letter from the royal palace had arrived for you."

"discard it. throw it. keep it away from my sight."

"milady?!" Liz and the head of the maid exclaimed in utter shock at your nonchalant answer.

"forget about it, forget about it." you clasped your forehead in utter disappointment, yet your brain were creating another plan b for this unexpected turn of events. what should you do? even more so, what would you do now that the prince had asked for you to be by his side to the ballroom?

this won't do, you won't let this happen—you had to look as unattractive and ugly as possible for him to cringe on and finally divert his attention back to the rightfully person who deserved it; the female lead.

your maids could only fall apart every single time you pluck out the enchanting gems they attached on your hair, ears and wrists. their efforts deemed futile as always as you had no mood for any sort of events, it was like a slap to their face as you initially weren't like this. you overheard them that they couldn't get used to how you were adamant in staying behind the spotlight as you often did your very best in dressing yourself up before, with the sole intention of gaining the favour of men and even more better, a prince.

of course, they are totally oblivious to your real identity. only a series of jaw gaping one after another with your change of character, at first—you had a dilemma over whether you should act like the character you created but you later scrap the idea as soon as the anxiety of being engulfed in the crowd suffocated your chest. opting to avoid as many as balls or public events as possible, but that obviously didn't work out that well since you heard of the female lead's arrival from the country side—just like you intended it to be.

and being the proud mother (writer) you are, of course why wouldn't you take one single look at her and see of how far she had came? but alas, one interaction leads to another one and so on—till finally, you became her best friend throughout her entire journey. waiting for the male lead's arrival, and watch their romances blooming and per se—but oh well, look at the situation you were in right now; total disaster.

you truly despise being in such an extravagant puffy gown and the numerous accessories hugging your skin, it's tremendously uncomfortable that you wanted to rip it off part in front of the prince standing before you right now, and right here.

asking for your hand to dance with that odd kittenish smile, that you swore you had never ever written in his personality profile; he should never have been this casual and chill over a person he had just met. he should've been cold as fuck, icy to touch, and a spiralling disaster if you dare to talk to him, so why?

plus how could he have taken an interest in you? you couldn't possibly have added a dose of the love at first sight trope, didn't you? you despised that trope to your very core.

"milady? may i?" he extended his hand before you, patiently waiting for your answer.

you had decided that you're going to reject him quick and efficient—just like the local fast food restaurant your mouth kept drooling over for, smashing a five star review for their inhuman speedy delivery.

"you see, prince jungwon. i have no desire to have a connection with you, a relationship, as a matter of fact."

he raised his eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by your bold words. "i'm curious milady, why so? have i done something that perhaps had annoyed you?"

cliché question, you loathe that. "what if i said you did?"

"then tell me, milady. i'll try my hardest to own up to you—" he took a steps forward, which causes you to immediately step back as well with a frown on your face. you can't, not in this life, to even give him a single chance to get close to you. nah uh.

"no need, and stay one meter apart, please." you pointed your index finger towards the floor and he hesitated, but complied immediately.

"i." you raise your index finger back to yourself and then at him, "don't like you. do you understand?"

"b-but?"

"stop questioning me, prince jungwon." you stayed firm in your spot, "i believe it's a common decency to step back when a lady had voiced out her opinion, a prince like you certainly would understand, am i right?"

Jungwon was clearly taken aback, the fact that you didn't give him a single chance to utter a word nor take a step closer was a hard punch to his face. It feels as if he was trying to reach for you, but you efficiently dodged it with ease. It kind of.. annoys him.

"base on how you didn't say anything anymore, i assumed we're done here! well then, goodbye prince jungwon." you turned your heels towards the entrance, not bothering to waste any time at this goddamn ball. "i hope this will be the very last." you scoffed inside your mind, eager for the story to return to it's original route, and that the prince would soon deem you useless and such—returning to the female lead's arms.

hm, now where's your precious female lead? she should've appeared right now and right here, strike the pot while it's hot!

"i'm afraid i can't back down that easily, milady." jungwon took a few steps forward, wrapping his hand round your wrist as he spun you around to face his eyes filled with blazing determination. one that you specifically added on top of his profile so that your readers would kept it in mind.

your breath hitched down your throat as you remembered there's only two reasons he could have this; one that reminds you when he was at war, shouting at the top of his voice to encourage his soldiers as they push through the enemies, and another reason of it appearing is when he have to get what he wanted, or else all hell will break loose, chaos will ensue.

right, you're truly an idiot. staying a few years in this novel without any memories, and only for it to surface back when you stumble upon the library—dozens of books flickering a series of eccentric images in your mind. It had cause you to lose all memories of important details, only emerging everytime you are presented with a situation you couldn't comprehend. such as when you forgot that the female lead had memory problems and such.

"i'll only present this choices to you, milady. since you tremendously intrigued me over how well spoken you were and fascinating indeed—" bitch, you don't even know how you had the sudden ability to confront him but you were just sure as hell that you don't want to ruin your own novel. no fucking way.

you can't let him have the upper hand on you.

"let me go." irritated to your core, you tried untangle Jungwon's tight grasp on your wrist but he won't budge even an inch which only had you fuming in anger. "i said let me go, bitch!"

the crowd emits a series of gasps and murmurs as you spun around—twisting the prince's arms which had him yelping in pain, and ultimately pinning him onto the ground. with rage consuming you that nothing was going in your way, you slammed your hands on the both side of his head. clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth as you emphasised each word. "you are one a dumb hell of a bitch, when i said i do not want to see you anymore. i mean it. so—"

"so what?" his smug look resurfaces, one that emerges whenever he was being challenged. yes, do that! he should despise you, not take an interest in you! he should loathe you so much that he can't even gaze at you for a second. excitement surged through your veins as you open your mouth, preparing for the last blow.

"so, get lost. just because you're a prince doesn't mean every girl would fall for you, idiot."

an even more louder gasp emits from the crowd as they clearly heard what you said, their jaw gaping and some covering their mouths with their hands as their mind are now bombarded with random questions over how exceedingly brave you are to insult the royal prince, and of what fate will you met now that you've done such an atrocious act.

a low giggle sent shivers down your spine, and goosebumps to riled over your neck as you realise the prince under you had the widest smirk on his face. you frowned deeply, he shouldn't be smirking! he should be fuming in anger and throwing you out of the palace at this moment. so why?!...

"oh milady, how truly fascinating you are." you let out a loud yelp when he grabbed both of your wrists, pulling you closer to his face—a dangerous close proximity against his fluttering eyelashes and lips that your breath caught up in your throat which causes your cheeks to heated up in embarrassment of what kind of position you two were in right now. "i like you, you would certainly be a perfect fit to be by my side."

"what?!" you exclaimed, jaws dropping and eyes about to pop out at his very words. "i don't want to be by your side—"

"a lady like you, i'm afraid to say, intrigues me very much..." Jungwon shots a kittenish wink right through your heart. "be my wife, milady. i'll show you how good I can be for you."

#「 talesofyuan 」 fics #did i. a side character became the male lead's wife?!#enha #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enha fanfic #enhypen x female reader #enha fluff #jungwon smut #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jungwon #yang jungwon

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justmeinadaze · 1 month ago

Text

November Rain (Part 6)(Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: 😈

Warnings: Older (Late 30s) Daddy Eddie/ Young (early 20s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, ALL the dirty talk, Breeding Kink (yes you read that correctly), Y/N in lingerie, aftercare always. FLUFF, lots of fluff in this one to cushion some of the angst. These two love each other very much <3.

ANGST! *Shoots an angsty basketball into an angsty net on an angsty court*

Y/N's parents show up and have some words for them both (give an ultimatum, Eddie struggles to get his daughter to talk to him after the events of the last chapter, reader gets spicy with Ava :), mentions of the readers weight by an asshole (Eddie defends her honor), Eddie talks more about his past with his dad (brief mentions of abuse) and his marriage to his ex. CLIFFHANGER ENDING!

Word Count: 7481

Series here

Loud pounding on Eddie’s apartment door startled you both as you bolted up right in bed.

“Stay here.”, the boxer commanded as he hastily pulled on his sweatpants and handed you one of his shirts from the floor.

It had been about a week since your secret was exposed and neither of you had been able to get ahold of Paige. You had called, text, emailed, and even wrote physical letters to no avail. Her father every other day went to knock on the apartment door but no one answered.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Munson, but she doesn’t want to speak to you…either of you.”, her boyfriend sighed. “I can let her know again that you called though.”

“Please, Eli, I just…is she ok at least?”

As Eddie’s sad eyes glare into the void of the carpet, you rub your palm along his back and rest your head on his shoulder.

“She’s…surviving…Honestly, sir, it’s not my place to get in the middle. All I know is she’s hurting and I need to protect her. If she doesn’t want to talk to you or Ms. Davis right now then it is what is.”

“Yeah…yeah…thanks. You’re, um, you’re a good kid. I know with you she’s safe.”

“Always, sir.”

Ava constantly blew up his phone asking on any updates about Paige to the point where you felt like you had to get involved.

“Ms. Davis. Eddie isn’t here right now. How can I help you?!”, you practically shout as you answer his phone before he can.

“YOU can’t help me, Y/N. You’ve done enough. I need to talk to my husband.”

“EX-husband remember? You have no reason to be bothering him anymore.”

“Listen, bitch. Edward may be fucking you but that doesn’t give you license to sit at the grownups table. You’re a little girl playing house. Now…put him on the phone or else—”

“Or else what, AVA? After everything I’ve been through you think I’m afraid of you—No, Eddie. I got this—You think you can raise your voice or call me names and think that will intimidate me in some way? No…and let’s not forget…I’m not the only whore at the ‘grownups table’. Stop. Calling. Eddie will reach out to you when he gets any news.”

Without waiting for an answer, you hung up the phone.

“Jesus Christ. Sometimes I forget how much of a badass you are.”, the boxer swoons as he wraps his arms around you. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m sorry she said—”

Your lips on his quickly silence him.

“You don’t have to apologize for her, baby. Not anymore.”

The pounding echoed through the apartment once more except this time it was followed by a loud voice shouting, “I know my daughter is there! Open this fucking door or I swear to God I will break it down!”

“Dad?”

Eddie’s eyes meet your confused ones before running around the bed and cutting off your walk towards the living room.

“Wait! Hang on, honey. He seems riled up. Let me answer the door but I want you to stay behind me, ok?”

“Ok. Eddie?”, you call, grabbing his hand as he turned around and pulling him towards you to give him a soft kiss. “I love you…no matter what…”

With a tender smile, he pushes your hair behind one of your ears.

“I love you to, Y/N.”

Exhaling, you watched as his expression hardened and he slowly maneuvered to the front door, turning the knob to greet the chaos on the other side.

“Can I help you?”

“Where is she?”, your dad growled, pushing on the wood and past the metalhead to let himself inside with someone your boyfriend assumed was your mom. “Y/N! Get your things! We’re leaving right now!”

“What? Why? How did you two know where I was?”

“We called your roommate because you haven’t been answering your phone. She enlightened us on some of your extracurricular activities.”, your mother sneered as she sized Eddie up with distain. “We thought you were making things work with Bradley?”

“What would make you think that?”, you answer sassily as they glare your way. “Ah, I see. You’re talking to everyone but me.”

“You don’t answer your phone!”

“I’ve got a lot going on right now, mom!”

“Hey! Don’t speak to her that way!”, your father yells causing your boyfriend to place himself directly in front of you. “As for you, you stay the fuck away from her. You should be ashamed! You’re older—"

“What does my age have to do with me loving her or her loving me?”

“This is not love. This is a rebound. You just got out of a relationship and YOU just got divorced.”

At your mother’s words, Eddie chuckled under his breath as he shook his head.

“I see my daughter had a lot to say. I apologize for that as that wasn’t her place. Add in the fact that she is extremely angry right now—”

“She has every right. She was your child’s best friend.”

“Ms. Y/L/N, Paige is in her twenties so she isn’t a child and neither is your daughter. When we met we had no idea that either of us knew her. I just knew I fell for a beautiful woman on a bad date at my boxing match.”

“That’s another thing. Do you think he can support you as a boxer?”

“I don’t NEED him to support me, dad, but we do support each other. He’s amazing at what he does and I’m proud of him.”

“God, when did you become so stupid?!”

“Don’t talk to her like that.”, Eddie hissed. “I may not be a rich man but I have a steady income and a huge match coming up in Vegas that will lead to more financial opportunities down the line.”

“Great and when you die after being knocked out at your age what then?! Hm?! Who will be there for her?”

“I’m not a geriatric, sir. I’m still in my 30s for God’s sake. I still have many years of boxing ahead of me.”

This isn’t a joke, son.”, your father sighs. “Have you thought about all this, Y/N? What if he got hurt? What if he had permanent damage where you had to take care of him for the rest of his life? What if he died… you would have nothing. You would have wasted your time opening your legs for a man who gave you nothing except the title of slut!”

The growl that left Eddie’s chest was deep and guttural as he took a confident step towards your dad.

“Sir, with all due respect, that will be last time you say anything like that towards Y/N. If you do it again I’m going to ask you to leave.”

Both men stare at each other, neither wanting to back down.

“We haven’t talked about it but…I do worry about him…every time he enters the ring. Every hit he takes kills me as someone who loves him very much but, dad, I see how hard he trains and all the precautions he takes to make sure that’s he’s safe. God forbid…he ever got seriously injured though…I would be there…no questions asked.”

“Y/N, honey, there are so many factors working against you.”, your mom began in a gentle yet slightly condescending tone. “However crass, your father brought up some good points. This man has already lived a whole life and had a whole other family. Your life is just beginning… how long do you see this relationship lasting?”

“Longer than yours.”, you sass causing your father to straighten as Eddie did the same. “His new, happier life is just beginning to and I want to be a part of that…as his wife…”

The long-haired boy’s head swiveled to face you at your words as a small smile flickered across his lips.

“Do you mean it?” When you aggressively nod, Eddie yanks you to his chest and you circle your arms around his waist. “I’m going to get you a ring, sweetheart, I promise and I’ll start saving immediately so you can have the fanciest wedding you deserve.”

“Baby, I don’t need all that. It could be in a courthouse with overalls and I’d be happy.”, you giggle through tears that began to fall. “As long as I’m with you.”

“I forbid it.”, your dad spat in anger.

“Noted.”, you growl in equal measure. “That’s not going to stop me from being with the man I love.”

“If you go through with this, Y/N, you will NOT have our support.”, your mom added. “You would never hear from us again and will be cut off completely.”

“Ma’am.”, Eddie cuts in before you can speak. “Please don’t do that. My mother died when I was young and I haven’t spoken to my father in over twenty years. It’s been over a week since I’ve heard from my daughter and…and it kills me. In all those cases, I had zero control but you do. If you cut her off just because she loves me…it will haunt you.”

Your parents exchange a glance as the silence hangs in the air for moment and your dad finally speaks.

“What’s it going to be, Y/N? Are you coming with us or staying here with him?”

Even as your heart breaks, your features remain stoic as you take Eddie’s hand and wrap your arm around his.

“I love him, dad, and I’m staying.”

“So be it.”, he sighs, collecting your mother’s hand and stomping out the front door.

As soon as it shuts, your head hangs and the boxer immediately collects you in his arms to carry you to the couch.

“Everything is going to be ok, honey. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. They’ll come around I’m sure.”, he coos gently as he pets your head, playing with your hair.

“I’m sorry they said all that stuff about you.”, you cry as you lean back to look at his face. “I meant what I said though, Eddie. If anything ever happened to you…you know I’d take care of you.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know. I, um, we probably should talk about, um…I mean you’ve never mentioned starting a family with me. Even though your mom was right, I guess, I have had…I don’t fucking know…what I’m trying to say is…I would love having that life again. I would love…having a family…a kid with you..”

“You know, you’re cute when you get all nervous.”, you tease as he rolls his eyes and lightly spanks your behind. “I would love to have your kid.”

“Yeah?”, he asks, quirking his eyebrow in amusement. “Give us a chance to play around with a breeding kink.” Eddie laughs out loud at his own joke but you see it almost immediately, how quick his face clouds over worry as if he crossed a line. More damage control from how his ex made him feel like he couldn’t be himself. “I’m just kidding.”

Softly smiling, you grabbed his chin with your fingers and tilted his head till his eyes met yours.

“Were you? Or does the idea of coming inside of me till you breed me genuinely turn you on?”

“Fuck me, you are perfect.”

###################

You watch from your spot on the floor by the wall of mirrors as Eddie continues to train for his fight. For the past couple of days since you arrived in Vegas, you had been doing work for your own job in the hotel while they went over their strategy and moves within the gym a few floors down.

Today, however, he insisted you come which you definitely didn’t mind.

His gorgeous chocolate eyes would zero in as he punched the pads in his coach’s hands or the bag in front of him and the muscles in his arms would tense as his fist flew. Sweat would cling to the small of his back and all you wanted to do was wrap your limbs around him while pressing your face into his spine.

“GOOD! Good, Eddie!”, the man in front him praised as he patted his boxer’s bicep. “Alright, tonight you’re doing the press conference. Just answer a few of the questions and all that fun stuff—”

“Pfft fun for you. I don’t like all the attention. Not like that anyway.”

“Said the former rock star.”, you teased and he stuck out his tongue your way.

“It’s very simple and then after you guys can explore the city. I want you to get a good night’s sleep and then tomorrow I want you at the stadium by 4pm. Ya hear?”

“Yes, sir. I will be there.”

After his coach leaves, Eddie helps you to your feet before tenderly kissing your lips.

“As much as I enjoy watching a geriatric old man practice…”, you joke as he rolls his eyes. “…why did you want me here for this?”

Smirking deviously, he reaches behind a few of the weight racks to produce a big white box with a purple bow.

“I got you something to wear to the press thing.”, he beams, watching your face as you carefully open the contents.

Within was a dress that matched the box it was housed in, completely white with a purple belt that wrapped around your beautiful, curvy waist. After clearing his throat, you glance Eddie’s way to see him holding up a pair of gorgeous purple heels that had you sighing in pleasure.

“Baby…”

“I know, I know…but I saw it in the store and I thought you would absolutely rock this ensemble. I mean, you look beautiful in everything but—”

Your lips on his cut him off as he chuckled and cupped your face in his palms.

“Go get ready. I’ll meet you in the lobby in about an hour.”

***

“You got this, honey.”, you whisper as you rub his shoulders while he glares out at the audience he was currently waiting to be introduced to.

When you came out of the elevator to meet him, you half expected him to just be in a polo and jeans since the conference wasn’t formal by any means but when he turned to meet the sound of your shoes clacking along the floor, you couldn’t help but lightly whine at the man in the suit before you.

“Eddie…you look so good.”

“Me?”, he breathily laughed as he tilted down to give you a soft kiss. “Look at you, pretty girl. I feel like a kid whose uncle got him ready for the neighbor’s party.”

“No!”, you giggle as your palm runs down his chest along his suit jacket. “You look perfect.”

“SPEAKING of uncle…”

When he gestures to the side, Wayne grins as he comes up to greet you, grunting slightly when you surprise him with a big hug.

“Hey, sweetheart. That dress looks stunning on you. I helped him pick it out by the way.”

“Liar.”, Eddie teases as his uncle tosses him an equally playful but stern glare.

“Thank you so much. You’re one to talk. I can see where Eddie gets his good looks.”

“Oh, Ed, I like her.”, Wayne smiles, extending his elbow for you to loop your arm through.

“There’s way more people than I thought there would be.”

“I know but don’t focus on them, sweetie. Just focus on me and Wayne. Don’t talk to all those strangers…talk to us.”

A heavy exhale leaves him as he fully closes the curtain you two were hiding behind to give you his full attention.

“Before I go out there, there’s something I wanted to give you. My uncle brought this from Hawkins and said it belonged to my mother. I wanted to get you a ring that was special because, baby, you’re so special to me and not like any girl I’ve ever met.”

“Eddie, what’s going on?”

Digging into his coat pocket, he produced a gold band with a modest sized blue diamond in the middle.

“I didn’t do this part properly but you deserve it. I love you so much, Y/N, and you mean so much to me.” Taking your hand in his, he descends to one knee. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes of course, you dork.”, you cry as your wrap your arms around his neck and he stands lifting you off your feet.

As soon as he slides the ring on your finger, you cup his face in your hands and kiss his lips.

“Aw, isn’t that cute.”, a man coos as he strolls casually into the area with an entourage behind him. “Who is this, Mr. Munson? Your fiancée, I imagine.”

“Uh, yeah, this is my…my fiancée Y/N.”, Eddie glows at the word. “Y/N, this is the man I’ll be fighting, Shaun Downey.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

When he goes to shake your hand, something passes through you intuition that has you thinly smiling before letting him go to place yourself beside the man you love.

“Alright, well, lovely to see you both and don’t worry, it’s really easy. Just answer some questions and exchange some playful banter. Smile and pose for a picture and then boom you’re done.”

“Eddie, be careful with him.”, you whisper as soon as Shaun is out of ear shot. “Something feels off about it… he reminds me of…Brad when I first met him.”

“Oh, baby, don’t tell me that or I may accidently kill him.”

Smirking at his joke, you give him one final kiss and go to find your seat beside Wayne.

When the press conference began it genuinely was pretty casual with photographers flashing pictures while the announcer spoke about each boxer’s stats. His opponent seemed to be about where Eddie was in terms of strength and number of wins but what gave you pause were the questions that followed.

“Mr. Downey, how does it feel to finally be back in the ring after your suspension a few months ago?”

“It feels amazing, if I’m being honest, and to be fighting someone with the…ha…advanced caliber of Mr. Munson here…is going to be a delight.”

“Mr. Munson, any response?”

While Eddie calmly answers with his trademark brand of snark, you google on your phone why the other boxer was suspended, flashing the phone to Wayne who’s eyebrows furrow with worry.

“Ah ha! Wonderful, wonderful. How has training been, Mr. Downey?”

“Being suspended did allow me time to fully zero in and get my act together. We went full Rocky, you know; running upstairs and hills, drinking eggs, and hitting meat.”, Shaun laughs.

“What about you, Mr. Munson?”

“Oh, you’ve definitely been doing some weightlifting, haven’t you?”

Eddie’s whole demeanor shifts as he sits up straighter and leans into the microphone.

“I definitely have…at the gym, around my apartment, and anywhere else I can get my reps in. A real man can do that.”

“Well, you have to be careful, Munson. At your age, too much weight can really flatten you out.”

“You know what.”, the metalhead replies firmly. “Everyone keeps bringing up my age which in this sport I realize makes me seem old and unfit but I’ve had just as many wins as these younger guys and also managed to nab a knockout of a woman. Now, bring up weights again, and I’ll knock your ass out here and now.”

Cameras started flashing while both men glared at each other before Shaun chuckled under his breath and both men rose to pose for photos.

***

“Hey, are you alright?”, you ask after quickly running backstage to comfort him. When he didn’t answer, you could tell he was still extremely angry and you circled your arms around him as you press your face into his chest. “It’s ok, Daddy. Everything’s ok.”

“Well done, Munson!”, Shaun shouted excitedly as he ran towards the other man. As soon as his hand touched his shoulder, however, Eddie swiftly turns around, moving you backwards, and shoving the boxer roughly away. “The fuck?!”

Everyone promptly kicked into gear with both men’s coaches placing themselves between them while Shaun’s friends held him back and Eddie’s uncle gripped his shoulder.

“If you ever talk about my girl again, I don’t care how many people are in the room or how many reporters are watching, I’ll kick your fucking ass then and there!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! That was just banter, Munson! I was trying to get a rise out of you!”

“You got your fucking wish, asshole!”

“Edward!”

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!”, he shouts at Wayne causing you to jump at the outburst.

The room because silent and Shaun yanks his arms out of his friend’s holds, assuring them his fine as he steps closer.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Fuck you.”, you spit. “Apology not accepted.”

Laughing, he shakes his head and disappears with his crew.

“I’m sorry, Wayne, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know, son, I know.”, his uncle comforts as he pulls his nephew into his embrace.

“Did you know Shaun Downey was suspended for un-sportsman like conduct?”, you growled at his coach. “He punched another boxer after the bell and put him in the hospital.”

“Yes…I was made aware of that.”

“Did you tell Eddie?”

“Y/N, it’s going to be just like any of his other fights—”

“Except he’ll be fighting this narcissistic psychopath!”

“With all due respect, honey, he’s a boxer and you aren’t. You’re a bit out of your depth here.”

“Don’t talk to her like that.”, Eddie hissed he stepped towards you both. “She has every right to have an opinion about this. And no, baby, I didn’t know.”

“So what, Ed, you’re not going to go through with this?!”

“I didn’t say that but after everything I just experienced, I may need to consider a new coach and manager.”

With that, he intertwined his fingers with yours and walked with you towards the car.

#################

You can’t help but smile as Eddie continues playing with your hair while you press up further into his side and you both stare out into the Vegas skyline. He had just treated you to a fancy dinner and expensive champagne that had you radiating with a happiness you had never known before.

After you two finished your meal, he escorted you to the balcony where you sat on the bench so he could smoke while you two held each other, watching the sun set.

“This place is actually beautiful from up here.”, he hums before blowing smoke towards the sky. “Every time I’ve ever been here was with my father and it was never fun.”

“Eddie—”

“I’m sorry if I scared you today.”

“Baby, what are you—?”

Removing his arm from around you, the boxer leans his elbows on his knees as his eyes stare into the void of the concrete below him.

“That’s not normal for me…yelling at Wayne the way I did. That fuckin’ asshole…he reminded me of my dad. He used to say underhanded shit like that all the time and then brush it off like it was nothing. Then, my uncle said my name the way Allen used to and I just…”

“Eddie, it’s ok—”

“It’s not ok!”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me?!” At your outburst, the man exhaled smoke before tossing the cigarette over the balcony rail. “What Shaun Downey did wasn’t ok. What your father did to you and your mom wasn’t ok. You getting defensive and trying to protect me? That’s ok.”

When his eyes meet yours, you lean forward and gently kiss his shoulder as you rub his back.

“I didn’t see it that way…”

“What?”

“Me protecting you. When Ava and I were married we fought a lot…verbally…I would never…”

“I know, Eddie.”, you murmur.

“One night I tried to find our spark again and took her to the bar we used to go to when we were kids. Some fucker passed by our pool table and grabbed her ass.”, he growled. “I punched him and tried to get him to apologize but Ava left to wait by the car. She screamed at me the entire way back home…said I should have left it alone and that I was a loose cannon…”

“Like your father?” You sigh when he nods. “Honey, I’m so sorry. I know I wasn’t there but if some asshole grabbed my ass I wouldn’t mind if you knocked him out. I mean, I probably would have already but…” When he laughs, you smile as you reach up to caress his face. “You’re not like him, Eddie, and again I know I wasn’t there for your marriage but the man I’ve gotten to know and love is a good, caring, protective person.”

Softly smiling, he wraps his arm around your shoulders and playfully yanks you to his side to kiss your forehead.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Come on, freak.”, the metalhead chuckles, taking your hand, and pulling you to your feet. “I have a surprise for you and then we can go back to the hotel.”

***

“Alright, keep them closed!”

“Eddie!”, you giggle. “Even if my eyes were open your hands would be blocking everything!”

Keeping a firm grip with your palms over the ones he has making sure you don’t peak; he guides you into a room that makes you smile when you smell the hint of flowers.

“It smells good in here.”

“Oh good. I was worried my smoke smell would overpower everything.”, he teases before placing you somewhere and letting you go to back away a few steps. “Ok, sweetheart…open your eyes.”

Slowly, you do what he commands, your smile faltering a bit when you look around to see a room full of pews to your right and an archway decorated in white flowers to your left where a man with a book was waiting with a small grin. Behind Eddie stood Wayne, who gave you a subtle nod and smile of his own as he carefully watched your reaction.

“What…what is this?”

“You said you didn’t care if we got married in overalls at a courthouse but, Y/N, you deserve so much more than that. I know I’m…we’re…moving a bit fast here but I love you so much and I want the world to see that to.” As he spoke, your head hung as you lightly began to cry, worrying him as he stepped forward to lift your chin with his fingers. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, baby. I meant what I said about saving if you wanted something bigger.”

“Your…your daughter should be at her father’s wedding…”, you whisper, breaking his heart in half as he tilts forward to rest his forehead on yours and takes your hands in his to bring them to his lips.

“I tried to call her, Y/N; her and your parents. I wanted you to have someone here behind you or beside you. Your parents just reiterated what they said before. Honestly…Wayne is the only person that answered my calls and said he’d come.”

His Uncle pats his shoulder and hands him a white veil that Eddie carefully places on your head, trying desperately not to mess up your hair.

“I wanted her here to, honey, and I tried everything but I told you…I’m not sorry for falling in love you. I will never apologize for that. I’m hoping and praying one day she’ll understand… that your parents will understand… until then though, baby, I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Glancing towards the man you now realize is the officiant, you lightly laugh as you wipe your eyes.

“Those aren’t bad vows…”

Eddie’s face promptly relaxes in relief as he laughs along with you and you reach behind him to take the bouquet Wayne had been hanging on to until you were ready.

“You told my parents you fell for me the moment you saw me from the ring. I think…I think I did to. I say I think because I saw you looking at me but I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but when I did at that bar…I was so elated. From the moment I met you, Eddie, I felt safe with you. I know everything going on is a bit chaotic but I promise how I feel about you will never change. I’ll never hurt you like she did and… I guess what I’m trying to say is…you’re safe with me to.”

Nodding, a tear leaves his eye as he cups your cheek to bring your lips to his.

“Do you have the rings?”, the man asks making you two laugh when Wayne makes a little op noise and searches his pockets before producing a box that he hands to Eddie.

After exchanging your “I do’s” and placing the bands on each other’s fingers, you are pronounced husband and wife while the people in the room clap.

Taking you in his arms, your now husband playfully dips you as he passionately kisses your lips.

################

“Wait now, sweetheart.”, Eddie lightly scolds while grabbing your bicep.

As soon as the hotel room door clicks open, the boxer lifts you in his strong arms and carries you across the threshold to the bed where he gently tosses you before crawling up the length of your body.

“Oh! With all this, I forgot I brought a gift for you.”

“Baby, how about you give it to me later.”

Pushing at his chest with your palm stops his needy kisses along your skin making you softly laugh at his earnest energy.

“Trust me, Daddy. You want this gift now. Go ahead and get undressed. I’ll be right back.”

You smirk his way as he bites his bottom lip and his eyes follow you on your short walk to the bathroom. You can’t help but giggle and shake your head when you hear him sloppily tear off his suit before tossing it to the side.

Even after you put the present you got for him on, you wait a couple more minutes to build on the tension as you watch his leg bounce through the clouded glass along the bathroom door.

When you finally emerged and his eyes landed on you, you knew you selected the right thing. Since this was a big fight for him and coming to Vegas was technically your first vacation together, you wanted to get some lingerie you thought he (and you) would enjoy.

Eddie’s beautifully expressive chocolate eyes raked along your curvy form, starting from the black corset that had floral lace print and a bow positioned perfectly between your breasts down to the straps holding up your see-through stockings. Leaning against the doorframe, you showed off how the garment barely covered your behind as the little hooks connected to your stockings struggled to pull the fabric as far down as it could go.

“Holy shit.”, he breathed as you slowly began to step towards him. “No, no, baby. Stay—fuck—stay right there.”

After his command, the metalhead slid to his knees and maneuvered his body till he was directly in front of you. Your palm reached out to touch his face and in return he heavily sighed as he kissed your skin.

“Do you like what I got you, Daddy?”

“I do, beautiful. Jesus… I’m such a lucky man to have you as my wife.”

“That’s right, baby. I’m yours. I belong to you.”

While you were speaking, his hands roamed your voluptuous form and at your last sentence, his head fell against your belly as he pressed his lips against the fabric.

“Say it again.”

Taking a hold of his chin, you lifted his face so his glassy eyes could meet yours.

“I belong to you, Eddie Munson.”

A giggle escapes you as he aggressive tugs your hand and guides you to the edge of the mattress before pushing himself up to kiss your lips. With a firm grip on your knees, the man opened your legs wide and almost too tenderly trailed feathery light kisses along your thigh.

“Please, Daddy.”, you beg and without hesitation he obliges.

Almost like a man possessed, his tongue and mouth move with an intensity you had never experienced with him. The organ between his teeth flicked along your clit, up and down before closing his lips around it till coming off with an obscene pop to repeat the process. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing his head as close to you as possible and he hummed at the feeling causing your eyes to roll.

It doesn’t take you long to fall over the ledge and you scream his title as you cum hard. Without missing a beat, Eddie lifts you further up the mattress, shoving his fingers into your mouth that you eagerly accept. Keeping your legs open with his knees, he utilizes the digits you generously coated with your saliva and guides them into your heat.

“You look so fucking sexy, baby, I can’t look away. I’m forcing myself to take my time because I want to fucking pound you into the bed till your dripping my cum and you can’t walk straight. You’d fucking wince with every step into that arena tomorrow and everybody will know who made you feel good.”

“Daddy.”, you whine against his lips at his words as his fingers curl inside of you and your eyes flutter shut. Your body fully collapses and he follows you down with his forehead pressed firmly against yours.

“Fuck, my dirty girl. You’d like that wouldn’t you? People would ask if you’re ok and you would tell them your husband took care of you.”

“My…husband…”

“Tell me your name, sweetheart.”

“Y/N…fuck…”

“You can do it, pretty girl. Tell Daddy your name.”, he encouraged and as his pace quickened the squelching noise of your slick filled the room. “Y/N what?”

“Y/N… Munson…fuck I’m gonna cum.”

“Say it again, baby.”

“Y/N Munson! Please!” At your pleas, your hand clung to his wrist as the coil snapped. “Y/N Munson… I’m…I’m your wife…Y/N…Munson.”

Eddie smiles softly as you pant out your words, carefully removing his fingers and holding you tightly to him as he gently kissed you while allowing you to come back down.

“Yeah, you are. Y/N Munson… my beautiful wife… I love you, honey.”

“I love you to.”

“Are you ready for Daddy, baby girl?”, he whispers, chuckling when you nod. “Come here.”

Pulling you on top of him, his large palms cup your cheeks as you straddle his waist.

“Fuck, baby.”, the boy beneath you whimpers as your rub your pussy lips along his shaft, smearing your arousal. “Maybe w-we can do that experiment I mentioned.”

It took you a moment but when it finally hit you, your breathy laugh warmed his face as he smiled up at you.

“You wanna breed me, Daddy?”

At your words, you felt his length lightly twitch.

“I do, but first Daddy wants to feel you cum. Go ahead, sweetheart, and ride my cock.”

Reaching between your bodies, you held him steady as you gradually sunk down onto him, biting your bottom lip while enjoying the feeling him stretching you open. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your form as you moved, his hands digging into your hips as he guided your movements. Occasionally his palm would spank your behind making you moan loudly as you bounced down harder against him.

“Just like that, Y/N, fuck. Can you feel me in your stomach, baby? R-Right here?” You nod and in your blissed out state he decides to test some of the waters, placing his hand directly on your lower belly. “Imagine me filling you up so completely, we put a baby in there. You’d look so fucking beautiful, honey.”

Your whole body trembles at the notion as you fall against him and he promptly takes over wrapping his arms around you as he thrusts his hips roughly.

“Cum for me, Mrs. Munson. Come all over my cock.” The coil snaps and you muffle your screams into his chest as he fucks you through it. “Good girl. Such a good girl, baby.”

Flipping you both over, he tenderly pets your head as he kisses your lips, lazily pumping his hips till you were ready.

“I want you to cum, Daddy.”, you whisper as the tip of your nose grazes his. “Pretend I’m not on my pills anymore…and we’re trying… fuck me hard till you cum so deep inside of me there’s no way it wouldn’t take.”

A shaky, pleasure filled breath left his chest as his head fell beside your own and you clung to his shoulders as his rhythm began to hasten. Your legs locked around his waist and you both grunted as he slammed his hips hard against you.

“T-THAT’S it…Daddy—FUCK—so deep…”, you whine between each punch of skin against skin. “You feel so good…feel me up, Daddy, please.”

The bed underneath you both shakes at his intensity and after a few more aggressive thrusts, you feel his release coat your walls as a cute but still sexy high pitch whine emits from his lips to your ear.

“You know…it doesn’t…help the self-esteem…when your wife…laughs after…sex…”, Eddie pants causing you to erupt into a fit of giggles that has him smiling above you as he pushes up onto his elbows.

“I can’t help it. That little whimper you just made was kind of adorable.”

“Jesus Christ.”, he blushes, trying to hide his face in your shoulder.

“Noooooo! No, Eddie. I loved it. I love YOU…deviant.”

“Oh…ok now.”, he teases as you laugh harder and he carefully pulls out before lifting you to bring you to the shower.

A permanent smirk remained painted on your lips as he gently cleaned your skin, running the rag as gently as he could while leave small kisses along the way.

“Eddie?”

“Hm?”

“I’m worried about your fight.”

The boxer exhales as he rises to his feet and places the cloth down so he can hold your cheeks in his palms.

“I can understand why, sweetheart, but like you told your parents; I train and prepare for things like this.”

“For someone to fight dirty?”

“Life prepared me for that.”

“Baby, I’m being serious.”

Your husband smiles as his thumbs caress you before bringing you to his chest.

“I know… How about this? How about if Shaun acts up…the first time will be the only time. I’ll call it and refuse to continue.” Sighing yourself, you let him go and turn off the facet behind you as he watches you grab a towel to dry your body. “Honey, I can’t cancel this fight.”

“It’s not right that they didn’t give you all the information. That has to count for something.”

“But we know now. I’m not going into that ring blind.”, he defends as he grabs a towel as well and wraps hit around his waist.

“That doesn’t ease my worries, Eddie.”

“Y/N, this is the biggest fight of my career. It could lead to so many better opportunities and I refuse to let some asshole ruin that for me because he thinks he’s hot shit. I think you forget, babe, I’ve fought unfair fights my ENTIRE life especially when I was a kid. When the jocks weren’t kicking my ass, I had a drunk at home to defend myself against.”

“Look, no matter what I say you’re going to do what you want but I’m allowed to be worried.”, you huffed, stomping into the bedroom and pulling on one of his shirts as you sat down at the edge of the bed.

After sliding on his boxers, Eddie knelt down in front of you and took your hands in his.

“You are allowed to be worried and what you say does matter to me. Y/N, if you genuinely feel like I shouldn’t do this then I won’t but you have to understand how hard that’s going to hit me in the future…less jobs, less fights, less money—”

“Eddie, I don’t care about the money. It’s something YOU care about and I understand but all that matters to me is you and your safety.”

“God that’s so fucking weird.”, he whispers, smiling when you give him a confused look. “I have a wife who supports ME. To be fair, sweetheart, you said Shaun Downey reminded you of Brad and I did knock that fucker out so…”

His grin grows as you laugh, climbing in beside you and tugging you into his embrace.

“I hope you know I’m not saying…like I don’t think you can win…”

“I know, baby. I promise, Y/N, if anything feels even remotely off, I’ll stop the fight. Doesn’t matter what the coaches say or anything. If you or I think something’s not right, the fight is over.”

“Me?”, you giggle breathily. “I don’t know how you’ll know that from up in the ring.”

“Because you’ll be in my corner.” You blink in shock as you tilt away and search his face for signs of jest. “I already cleared it with everyone I needed to and they gave me a shirt you’ll have to wear but yeah. This is the biggest fight of my life at the moment and I want your face to be the one I see after every round.”

“Oh my God, Eddie!”, you cry as you circle your arms around him in excitement.

#################

Paige’s boyfriend sighs as he brings her something to drink while she glares out into the night sky from his balcony.

“Honey, at some point you’ll have to talk to them.”

“No, I don’t. Both my parents are liars and—”

“Human?” Flashing him a glare, she pushes Eli out of the way as she huffs back into his apartment. “Look, I know I’m just an outsider here but it seems like your dad was trying to keep the peace the best way he knew how.”

“By fucking my friend and roommate!?”

“You make it sound like he did this TO you when, with all due respect, their relationship isn’t about you, babe. They’re two consenting adults who—”

“I don’t care! A line was crossed! I can’t believe you’re on their side!”

“Paige, I’m always behind you. I just think you need to reconsider and at least hear them out… Y/N and Mr. Munson. Your mom kind of threw them under the bus for herself so I’m kind of more for one than the other.”

Eli’s phone rings and he sighs heavily when he sees the name on the caller ID, still taking the time to answer.

“Hey, Y/N. Now’s not really… What?...O-Okay, I’ll, um, let her know and we’ll be right there. Should I call Ms. Davis?...I don’t know. Habit on my side I guess…Okay, Okay. Y/N, it’s ok. Everything will be ok.”

As soon as he hangs up his device, he powerwalks to the bedroom and pulls down a suitcase as Paige watches with wide, bewildered eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“WE’RE going to Vegas.”, he grumbles as he starts throwing clothes inside.

“I’m not fucking going to Las Vegas! Are you kidding me!?”

“Paige, your dad is in the hospital.”

Her mouth falls open in surprise before she runs to her phone, swiping past all the missed calls from you and a number she doesn’t recognize to type her father’s name into a search engine.

“Shaun Downey in custody after an assault to newcomer Edward Munson put him in the ICU. Both boxers went multiple rounds with Munson seeming to be titled the winner but as a bell rung and both men were meant to go to their corners, Downey ran after him and knocked him to the ground, delivering multiple blows to the boxer’s face before referees and coaches were able to remove him. No word from his team on Eddie Munson’s current status.”

Pressing play on a video from the fight, Paige watched in horror as the other man pushed her father and wrestled him to the ground. He blocked most of the impact but the force of this other boxer’s fist still left him bruised and bleeding. The video stopped right as you fell to his side and pulled his head to your lap.

“Coach and new bride Y/N Munson with doctor at Munson’s side.”, the caption read and a new feeling of shock flowed through with her worry.

Her dad got married? To Y/N? There was no way…

“I have my stuff packed.”, Eli announced as his eyes met hers from the hallway. “Like I said, I’m on your side, honey, but it’s not right to leave Y/N alone in city she doesn’t live in while her boyfriend is in the hospital.”

“Husband”, Paige corrected. “Apparently…”

“Shit… so much for ‘just a rebound’, huh?”, her boyfriend exhaled with his hands on hips. “Well? Are you coming or not?”

###############

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