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soaps-mohawk · 7 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 11: It's Coming

Summary: Things have begun to shift in your developing relationship with your pack. Unfortunately, nature has the worst timing in the world.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, medical stuff, plenty of fluff.

A/N: I wrote like 90% of this chapter on my phone so please forgive any weird typos. I'm super excited for this one and this whole part really. Lots of good stuff coming up!!

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At first you’re not quite sure what pulled you from sleep. You’re warm and more comfortable than you have been in a long time, despite the dull throbbing between your thighs. The pillow against your back shifts, a chill settling in as some of the warmth disappears.

You blink your eyes open, squinting against the harsh blue light of a phone screen. Price lets out a quiet groan, swiping at something before settling his phone back on the nightstand in front of you. His arms wrap back around your middle, his face pressing into the back of your neck as he settles against you again.

It was his phone vibrating that had woken you, pulling you from the gentle arms of sleep. It’s still dark out, far too early to be up and getting phone calls, especially on a Sunday morning. You wonder how often John actually gets to sleep, between his job and everything he does when he’s not away. You’re understanding the couch in his office more and more now.

“Go back to sleep.” He murmurs, a quiet rumbling vibrating against your back as he purrs.

You don’t need to be told twice, snuggling down under the covers again, letting your eyes close.

You wake a while later alone. It’s daylight finally, the sunlight coming through the window lighting the room. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling Price’s scent. It still smells a bit like arousal and sex in the room, both of your scents heavy in the air. They blend together surprisingly well, Price’s musky woody scent mixing with the sweetness of your own scent. It makes an intoxicating aroma of alpha and omega.

Price comes out of the bathroom, slipping back under the covers. You curl up against his side, laying your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“Morning.” He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep still.

You hum in response, resting your head over his heart.

“How do you feel?” He asks, his fingers trailing your bare back.

“A bit sore.” You say, acknowledging the throbbing between your legs. “Not as bad as I thought I might.”

Price huffs out a laugh. “It shouldn’t hurt, not if you know what you’re doing.”

You hum again, the knowledge that he’s very experienced coming to the forefront of your mind. Even if it has been two years, you can imagine him when he was younger, the kind of experiences he must have had. Omegas and barrack bunnies and all sorts of women probably fawned over him.

“You’re thinking too much.” He says quietly, eyes closed as he lays there with you.

You’re starting to think he might be able to read your mind.

“Can I ask you something? Something...personal?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

He cracks an eye open to stare down at you. “Don’t think you can get much more personal than we already are.” His lips twitch up in a smile. “‘Course, you can ask me anything.”

“When was the last time you helped an omega through a heat?” You ask, listening to the steady thump of his heart under your ear.

“Years ago. Well over a decade ago.” He says, voice still thick and raspy with sleep. He clears his throat, a hand settling on your waist. “Back when I was still a Sergeant. I had the idea back then of settling down, finding an omega and having my own pack. Had a few on and off relationships. Then I started getting sent off on more and more dangerous missions. I realized my skill set and my purpose, and gave up the idea of having an omega. I couldn’t stand the thought of putting them through that, if something happened to me. I’ve seen what losing an alpha does to an omega firsthand too many times.”

A frown tugs at your brows as you lay there against his chest. You know the risk of them dying is high. The CIA had spent ample time warning you of that risk, telling you about how dangerous their lives are and how every assignment, every deployment, could be their last. They could be gone for weeks at a time, months at a time, and they could go and not come back. They know that every time they leave for an assignment it could be their last, and now you’ll be stuck behind knowing they might not be coming back.

You’ve heard about omegas that have lost their alphas, how damaging it can be. It’s not something you’re taught at the institute. That’s not something you’re supposed to think about, something you shouldn’t have to think about.

“What’s eating you?” Price asks softly, his finger stroking the pinched skin between your brows.

You shift against his side, leaning more on his chest as you look up at him. “What if you don’t come back?”

His smile is a bit grim as he stares up at you, his fingers trailing across your face. “I won’t lie and say that’s not a risk. There’s always a chance.” His fingers trail down your arm to rest on your hand where it’s pressed flat against his chest. “We’re here for a reason. We are the best at what we do.”

He pauses as your hand moves, your gaze lowering from his as you trace one of the scars on his clavicle. You can only imagine what caused it. A knife? Shrapnel? Where was he and what was he doing when he got it? You might never be able to know all the details. So many secrets, so much you can’t know.

John wraps his arms around you, easing you off his chest as he rolls you onto your back. You stare up at him as he hovers over you, his hand brushing stray hairs from your face. “Don’t worry too much.” He says, his finger trailing the line of your nose. “We always try our best to make it home. Now we just have an even greater reason to.”

Your hand cups his cheek as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You hum against his mouth, pressing your body closer against his. You can’t help but smile against his lips as his cock hardens against your thigh.

“Again?” You murmur against his lips, making him chuckle.

“Can’t blame me when there’s a beautiful omega naked in my bed.”

Your face burns as he leans back down to kiss you, his hips moving against your thigh. Warmth spreads through your whole body from his scent thickening in the air, his arousal prevalent as he twitches against your leg.

“John.” You moan softly, hands grasping at his back.

You both pause as a door shuts in the hallway, the reminder that the others are just a thin wall away coming back to you. The moment is over as your stomach growls, also reminding you that you’ll need to eat eventually.

John chuckles quietly, leaning up to press a kiss against your forehead. “Come on, let’s get the day started and get some food into you.”

You frown a bit as he pulls away, cock still hard and angry looking as he stands from the bed. “John?” You call out, scrambling off the bed after him. “You’re just gonna...”

“Give it a minute and I’ll be fine.” He says, moving to his closet. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your frown only deepens and you step closer to him, catching him as he turns around. You stare up at him through your lashes, wrapping your hand around his cock. He pauses, letting out a little groan as you squeeze him gently.

“Let me help you.” You say, dragging your hand along his length.

His eyes darken as he stares down at you, the pants in his hand dropping to the floor.

Your face is still a bit flushed as you make your way to the mess. You’re hand in hand with John, dressed comfortably in one of his shirts and a pair of leggings. You can’t help but feel a bit bashful, as if they’re all going to know what you did, as if every soldier in the mess knows you and Price slept together last night.

They’ve probably been thinking that since you arrived.

Price leads you through the line, making your tray for you. You nearly beam with pride at him taking care of you, your omega preening with happiness as he carries your tray and his to the table. You take the spot next to Gaz as usual, still practically beaming.

“Have a good night, love?” Gaz asks, smirking a bit at your pleased state.

“Yeah.” You say, your face getting warm again at their stares.

“Practically glowing, kitten.” Johnny says, winking at you from across the table.

Your face flushes hotter and you quickly bury yourself in your porridge to avoid exploding at the breakfast table.

“Sounded like ye had a great time.” Johnny continues.

Christ, they probably heard the whole thing. You halfway want to sink down beneath the table to hide from their knowing stares. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not really. They’re your pack, and eventually you’ll be in the same position with them too.

“Didnae know ye had it in ye, kitten.” Johnny continues. “We certainly enjoyed the show.”

You do start to sink down in your seat a bit, surprised steam isn’t rising off your skin from how warm you feel. Gaz’s hand on your leg stops you, his fingers squeezing your thigh gently.

“Don’t pay too much attention to him, love.” Gaz gives you a reassuring smile. “He’s just jealous he didn’t get to go first.”

“Am not.” Johnny whines, practically pouting.

You can’t help but smile a bit at his antics. You know from how much he bragged about getting to be your first kiss that he probably was rather put out that John got to be your first. It would have been that way regardless, but you know you asking John before your heat changed things a bit. It would have always been John, though.

It would have always been your alpha first.

Gaz’s hand doesn't move from your thigh, holding its place there as you all eat, Johnny still pouting a bit. You know they’ll want to pursue that sort of relationship with you after your heat, but now that John’s removed the barrier of the first time as well, you can only expect them to up the teasing tenfold. A shiver runs up your spine at the thought of Gaz sliding his hand slightly higher, fingers slipping between your legs.

You’re certain there has to be steam coming off of you now.

Your thighs squeeze together, trapping Gaz's fingers between them as you continue to try and act normally. Gaz turns his head just slightly, side eyeing you as you continue to try and eat your breakfast as normally as possible. Gaz's grip on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your skin. You fight the noise threatening to come up as he holds his hand there, continuing to eat his breakfast as if nothing is happening.

You hold Gaz's hand as he walks you back towards the barracks, leaning against his side. His grip around your fingers is tight, not even the rain dampening the heaviness of his scent. It's deeper than usual, the musk of arousal tinging the edges.

Your back meets your door as soon as you're back in the barracks, Gaz pinning you against the wood. Your own breathing is heavy as you stare up at him, his eyes dark as he meets your gaze.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” He groans, leaning down to kiss you. It's far more passionate than you've ever kissed him before, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your waist. “Making all those sweet noises last night.” He breathes against your lips. “Haven't seen Price that relaxed in a long time.”

Your face warms at his words, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. He presses harder against you, pinning you against the door as his tongue prods at your lips. He tastes like the tea he drank with breakfast, herby and earthy.

“Has us all worked up last night.” He groans against your lips. “Hearing you, knowing our alpha was treating you nice.”

He presses his forehead against yours, staring down at you. You meet his gaze, shivering under the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

“Johnny bout cried he was so worked up.” Gaz's lips twitch in a smile. “Simon left for the gym bout halfway through, had to work out his tension.”

Your brows raise at the news about what Ghost had been up to last night. You figured he might join Johnny in his room, or perhaps head somewhere so he didn't have to hear you. Not that he would leave because he was being affected by you.

“Johnny was being such a whiny little bastard. Had no choice but to take pity on him.” Gaz nips at your jawline playfully. “I fear he's going to be unbearable until he gets his chance.”

“Well, he'll just have to wait his turn.” You say.

Gaz laughs, kissing you again before he takes half a step back, leaning his arm on the door above you. “Any plans today?”

You shrug, still leaning against your door. “Might read, or nap. Maybe both.” You sink your teeth into your lip, reaching back to put your hand on the door handle. “You wanna come in?”

Gaz's grin widens into a smile, his eyes practically sparkling. “Sure.”

You open the door, stepping into your room. It's a bit of a mess from you preparing for your date last night. You toss the clothes from your bed onto the floor haphazardly before pushing Gaz onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes before making himself comfortable. You toe off your slippers, grabbing your book before joining him on the bed. He pulls you against his side, pulling his phone out of his pocket as you settle against his chest. A quiet content purr begins rumbling in his chest, easing the tension in your body as you relax against him.

You stay like that, reading while cuddling Gaz, for quite a while. Your door is wide open still, the others coming and going as they do on the weekends. Gaz keeps your back to his chest, arm wrapped around his middle as he scrolls on his phone while you read.

Slowly his head starts to droop until it's resting against the top of yours. You can feel the content sleepiness settling into your bones as well, the words on the pages starting to swim a bit. You mark your place, moving just enough to set your book on your nightstand before you curl up against him, letting his even breaths lull you to sleep.

You jolt awake suddenly as Gaz's arms tighten around you, keeping you from flying off the bed. You blink open your bleary eyes, squinting at Johnny's grinning face inches from yours. His body is draped over both yours and Gaz's, a solid weight against you both.

“C'mon ye lazies. Gotta eat lunch eventually.” He says, sounding far too chipper for a Sunday afternoon.

“Fuck off mate.” Gaz says, shoving at Johnny's shoulder. “Was comfy.”

“Yer hogging the omega!” Johnny says, poking Gaz's side. He pushes himself up, scooping you into his arms and lifting you. “Some of us would like tae spend time with ‘er too.”

You yelp at being lifted suddenly, wrapping your arms around Johnny's neck to hold on for dear life.

“Well, maybe you just need to be a little bit faster.” Gaz says, standing from the bed.

“I'm plenty fast.” Johnny almost whines. “Close to beating your time on the course.”

Gaz smirks. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

You look back and forth between them as Gaz steps closer to Johnny, caging you between them.

“And ye will see it.” Johnny says.

“Cheeky.” Gaz murmurs, closing the distance between them.

You stare wide eyed as they kiss just inches in front of your face. It's all tongues and teeth, Soap's chest rumbling against your side as he purrs. A quiet whimper leaves your lips as you watch them, your body starting to get warm again.

They break apart, both turning to look at you. Gaz's lips turn up in a smirk, Johnny's eyes sparkling.

“Look at you, kitten.” Johnny smirks. “Ye like watching us?”

You make another quiet noise, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Johnny slowly lowers you until you're standing between them, Gaz not moving an inch as they trap you in a beta sandwich. Their bodies are warm and solid as you stand there, back to Johnny's chest. You can feel the bulge in his jeans pushing against your ass, Gaz's body a solid weight against your front.

You can imagine it, naked between them, skin against skin with hands everywhere. A quiet purr begins in your chest, eyes dilating as you stare up at Gaz. He smirks down at you, leaning down towards you. He skirts to the side at the last minute though, kissing Johnny behind you.

You can't see them this time but lord can you hear it. Johnny is still purring, the sound vibrating against your back. Gaz let's out a quiet sound, his hand dropping to squeeze your waist.

Johnny pats your side before pulling away. “Should get ye some lunch.”

Your head is still spinning as Gaz hums his approval, stepping away as well. You stand there blinking for a moment at the sudden loss of contact, the sudden shift in energy.

“C'mon, get yer shoes on, sunshine.” Johnny says.

You move half in a daze still towards your bed, your body tingling a bit still from the many thoughts that had been racing through your mind.

Something in the back of your mind begins to itch as you stare down at your bed. Your brows pinch in a frown as you stare down at the mess of blankets and pillows.

It's not right.

Your fingertips twitch as you stare at the mess in your nest, your mind taking over as you begin to rearrange the blankets and pillows. You forget you're not alone in the room as you fuss with the blankets until the itching begins to lessen a bit. You fiddle with the pillows, moving them around over and over again until you're happy with how they're organized, the quiet humming in the back of your mind fading away to nothing.

You sink down on the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath. You feel tired and almost winded after your effort to make sure your nest is just right.

Nest.

You're nesting.

You blink up at Johnny and Gaz, suddenly aware of their presence in your space again. Johnny is staring at you wide eyed, mouth slightly parted in wonder. Gaz has a sparkle in his eye as he grins at you.

You've just built a nest.

“Feel better, love?” Gaz asks, still almost beaming from witnessing you make your nest.

You nod, a sudden weight lifting from your shoulders. You've nested. You're nesting. Everything is going to be okay.

“C'mon.” Johnny says, slipping your slippers back onto your feet. “Let's get lunch in ye.”

You let him help you up, holding both their hands as you make your way from the barracks, a small, relieved smile on your face.

You wake up nauseous.

There’s a clawing feeling in your stomach and you’re not sure why.

It’s early, too early to be up. The sky outside is still dark, and the barracks are quiet. You get up, heading for the bathroom, the gnawing feeling still plaguing your stomach. Cold water on your face doesn't help the light-headedness or the dizziness you’re beginning to feel.

You can’t possibly be sick. You haven’t been around anyone that’s sick. You know heat sickness isn’t a threat right now. There’s no warnings out about possible exposures. It couldn’t be food poisoning. You eat the same things they do.

The gnawing intensifies, your stomach rumbling a bit.

Realization dawns on you suddenly.

You’re hungry.

You’re very hungry.

You check the time on your phone. Three a.m. Still too early for any of the boys to be up, and still a couple hours from when the mess would start serving breakfast. You head for the rec room, hoping there’s at least something in there to tide you over until breakfast.

You dig through the cabinets, plenty of tea and a couple packets of instant coffee you know belong to Johnny. You dig out a couple protein bars, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before taking a seat on the couch.

The protein bars aren’t great. They don’t taste good, but you’re so hungry you don’t care. You down them quickly and the entire bottle of water. For a moment you feel relief, the gnawing in your stomach easing. You head back to bed, slipping back into your room quietly.

You toss and turn, unable to go back to sleep as the gnawing begins in your stomach once more. You let out a quiet sound, muffled by your pillow as you lay there, knowing you still have a long time until they’ll come and get you for breakfast.

The thought makes you almost want to cry.

You’re waiting as soon as they knock, narrowly avoiding Johnny’s hand as you open the door mid-knock. The bright look in his eyes fades as he stares at you. You know you look miserable, maybe a little sick, even. You feel worse, your stomach twisting and gnawing. Those protein bars four hours ago hadn’t been nearly enough.

“Ye alright, kitten?” He asks, a frown marring his face.

“Hungry.” You all but whine, slipping out the door, closing it behind you.

“Ye hungry, kitten? Ye could have said somethin’ sooner. Coulda brought ye somethin’.” Johnny says, following you down the hall.

You’re determined to get real food and you’re not about to let anything get in your way. You feel ravenous, despite the fact you’d had a good dinner the night before.

Maybe it hadn’t been enough.

You make your own tray this time, loading on more than you usually do. You take your normal spot between Price and Gaz, all four of them eyeing your tray as you happily dig in.

“Hungry, love?” Price asks, watching you spoon huge mouthfuls of porridge into your mouth.

You nod, chewing quickly before spooning more in. It tastes delicious, something you never thought you would say about British food.

They all watch in awe as you clear your tray, eating every last crumb, having to refrain from licking it clean. Finally, for the first time since you went to bed last night, you feel full and satisfied.

“Damn. Putting us to shame.” Gaz says, staring at your empty, nearly clean tray.

You grow bashful under their stares, realizing you not only out ate them, you also finished first. “I was hungry.” You say, fiddling with your fork.

“No kidding.” Ghost huffs out, all of them finishing up their trays.

You’re in a far better mood leaving the mess than you were entering it, the sweet relief of being full after hours of gnawing hunger making you feel almost giddy. Ghost walks you back to the barracks, walking slow enough you can easily keep up with him. So slow, your arm brushes his as you walk next to him.

“Sorry.” You say, moving a step away from him. You’re so used to standing directly next to the others, you’ve forgotten Ghost prefers his personal space.

He stares down at you for a moment but doesn’t say anything, holding the door to the barracks open for you. He stands just inside the door, watching you make your way down the hallway to your room. He waits for the click of the lock before he turns, leaving you alone in the barracks again.

You settle into your usual routine of laying in your nest and reading, the giddiness starting to wear off as the time passes. You make it until ten a.m. when the gnawing hunger begins to return. You let out an annoyed whine, dropping your book to the floor as you roll onto your stomach.

You want to cry and scream at the same time, watching the clock tick by on your phone. You’re tired of being so hungry, and what’s worse, you don’t even know why. You’re just ravenous and you can’t think of a reason.

Lunch can’t come soon enough, and you find yourself struggling through the afternoon just as much. It’s almost like your body is on a timer and every two hours you’re suddenly starving, as if you haven’t eaten all day. You eat just as much as you did at breakfast, scarfing down food like you’re a starving animal.

You certainly feel like one.

You head to the rec room after dinner, Ghost and Johnny joining you. Johnny takes the seat next to you on the couch, draping his arm behind you as Ghost takes his usual spot in the chair.

You curl up against Johnny’s side, watching whatever he decides to put on TV half-heartedly. You’re waiting for the inevitable, the gnawing hunger to creep up on you again.

It does, roughly two hours into your time in the rec room.

You shift against Johnny, pressing against his side more as you try to ignore the hunger burning through you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, holding you against him. You breathe in his scent, letting the citrusy scent of him wash over you.

It only serves to make you more hungry.

You let out a quiet whine, trying to get closer to him. Tears prick at your eyes as you know there’s no relief coming. There’s no more meals until tomorrow. You’ll have to go all night before you can eat again, before you can relieve the hunger. You’re not sure you’ll make it that long. You might perish in the middle of the night, or become violently ill. Perhaps both.

You let out another quiet whine, standing from the couch. You can’t take it anymore, both Johnny and Ghost watching you as you head for the cabinets, kneeling on the floor and rummaging through everything, desperate to find another protein bar or anything.

“What are you doing?” Ghost asks, staring at you as you’re halfway in the cabinet, checking every last corner.

“Hungry!” You snap, half considering eating one of the tea bags just for something.

You’ve just closed the cabinet door in irritation when an arm wraps around your waist, lifting you from the floor. You let out a yelp, Ghost carrying you easily back to the couch.

“Stay.” He says after dropping you back next to Johnny. “I’ll be back.”

Johnny wraps his arms around you as you pout, nearly in tears from how frustrated you are. You’re just so hungry.

“Easy, kitten.” Johnny says, pulling you back against his chest.

You nuzzle into him, curling up into a ball against his side. He starts purring quietly, trying to soothe you while you wait for Ghost to return. You can’t pay attention to the TV, Johnny trying to change the channel every time a food related commercial comes on.

You’re nearly shaking when Ghost returns, arms full of snacks. Your eyes widen as he dumps them on the coffee table, pushing yourself up from Johnny’s chest.

“Where did you get these?” You ask, dropping to your knees on the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Vending machine in the mess.” Ghost answers, sitting back down in his chair.

You stare at him teary eyed, sniffling a little. “Thank you.”

He grunts in response, turning his gaze back to the TV as you reach for a bag of chips.

You can barely even taste it as you kneel there on the floor, basking in the first taste of sweet relief from a bag of salt and vinegar chips. You grab them by the handful, burning through the small, snack sized bag quickly.

You’ve barely finished chewing when you’re reaching for a candybar, a sudden realization striking you as your brain begins to regain the ability to think now that it knows relief is coming. You stare at the purple Cadbury on the front of the packaging, your fingers trembling as you hold the candybar.

You take a deep breath, quickly opening the wrapper before taking a bit, sitting back on your heels as you chew. “Well, shit.”

“I know, I hate the exam rooms too.” Dr. Keller says, flipping through her clipboard. “Too clinical and sterile looking.” She lifts your hand, removing the pulse monitor from your finger. “A little higher than normal.” She says, writing something down on the clipboard.

She takes your blood pressure and temperature, writing both down on the clipboard.

“Temperature is still normal.” She says. “How have you been feeling?”

“Hungry.” You say, picking at the thin fabric of the hospital gown you’ve been forced into. “Ravenously hungry and clingy.” You continue. “A bit more emotional than normal too.”

Dr. Keller nods, writing all of it down. “Normal things for your pre-heat, according to your file. Anything out of the ordinary? Aches and pains? Any nausea or vomiting, not related to hunger?”

You shake your head. “No. Kinda sleepy all the time too, but the hunger makes it hard to sleep.”

Dr. Keller nods. “That’s normal. Your body is preparing for a few days of very little caloric intake and little rest. I’d say you’re exhibiting all the signs of pre-heat. You’re right on time, as expected.” She gives you a little smile. “Judging by your vitals you still have a few days before the full heat symptoms begin. Any questions?”

“What do institutes do for heats?” John asks where he’s sitting to the side of the exam table.

“It depends on the institute.” Dr. Keller says, looking at you.

“FIOT rotated between sedation and isolation.” You say, not really wanting to think back on the heats you had gone through at the institute. “Sedation for the full heat, or shutting us in private rooms for a week to ride out the symptoms alone to avoid triggering heats in the other omegas.”

“Neither are great, but in that sort of environment there’s not a lot that can be done. Sedation is the better of the two, though it can still be disorienting. Isolation is painful and risky, especially if proper care isn’t given.” Dr. Keller says.

“Is sedation an option for the future?” Price asks.

You turn to look at him, before looking back at Dr. Keller.

“It’s something we can explore. I know it can’t be expected of you to be here for every heat. We can start exploring some alternatives after this heat is over and I have a better idea of what they’re going to look like.” Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Now, I’d like to do a little exam just to give me a baseline for after your heat when I check for any abnormalities or injuries.”

She directs you to lay down on the exam table and put your feet in the stirrups. You suddenly feel nervous, her words doing little to calm you. John appears in your peripheral, slipping his hand into yours.

“Is that a risk?” You ask as Dr. Keller pulls a clean pair of gloves on.

“Only a small one.” She says, standing at the end of the table. “I know you’ve probably heard all the horror stories, but those are only really concerns with inexperienced alphas who have never helped an omega through a heat before, especially those who had limited exposure to omegas in general.” She smiles at you. “You’re in good hands, my dear.”

She does her exam, letting you sit up once she’s finished. John helps you up, still holding your hand. Dr. Keller’s words do ease your concerns just a bit, but you can’t help the images flashing through your mind, the horror stories of mutilations and even deaths. You trust Price to take care of you, but at the same time, you won’t know until it’s over.

“Everything looks good.” She says. “The best thing you can do right now is try to satiate the pre-heat symptoms and take this time to make sure everything is ready and in place for when the full heat begins. Don’t worry too much.” She looks pointedly at you. “I’ll be on call and ready should something happen.” Her gaze turns to John. “Your beta knows what to look out for, right?”

John nods. “Kyle has been doing a lot of research. He knows what to do.”

“Good.” Dr. Keller says, looking back at you. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we can go back to my office where it’s more comfortable and talk some more.”

Dr. Keller leaves you alone in the room, Price helping you change back into your normal clothes, leaving the room with you. You turn to look up at him, Dr. Keller waiting for you near her office door.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Price says, leaning down towards you.

“Yeah.” You say, standing up on your toes to kiss him.

You try to ignore the look on Dr. Keller’s face as you walk past her and into her office, your face warming a bit in response. You take your normal seat, trying to get comfortable despite your bashfulness.

“You and Captain Price seem a lot closer.” Dr. Keller says as she sits across from you on the couch.

You nod. “Yeah. We, uh, we have gotten closer.” You chew on your lip. “We slept together...on Saturday night. Had a date, he cooked dinner. Then we...did it.”

Dr. Keller’s brows raise at your words, her face surprised. “Oh? Is that so? Is that something you wanted?”

You nod. “I asked him if he’d do it. I wanted my first time to be when I could remember it...before I would feel like it was something that had to be done.”

Dr. Keller hums, writing something down. “Did you have fun?”

Your face warms at her words, and you halfway wish the chair would swallow you whole. You nod, hiding your fingers beneath your sleeves again. “Yeah. I uh, started nesting too.”

Dr. Keller’s face breaks out into a huge smile. “That’s great! That’s fantastic news! Perfect timing too.”

You nod. “Yeah. Started on Sunday. Been feeling it since.”

“Good. That gives us one less thing to worry about.” She sets her notebook aside, crossing her legs as she stares at you. “How do you feel about your heat coming so soon?”

“Nervous.” You answer honestly.

“It can be a bit daunting, I’d imagine, your first heat with an alpha. Captain Price knows what he’s doing, though. He and Sergeant Garrick will take good care of you.”

“I know.” You say, fiddling with your sleeves. “It’s still scary. A lot of things can happen and...what if one of them does?”

“It’s not very likely.” Dr. Keller reassures you. “Captain Price knows what he’s doing. He’s experienced with omegas and heats and the likelihood of him losing control is small, even after so long without any contact with an omega. It sounds like Sergeant Garrick has educated himself on things to look for, and what to do to help. I’ll be ready and on call the entire time as well. I’ll make regular check-ins with Sergeant Garrick too, to make sure everything is going smoothly. You’re not alone in this. We’ll all make sure you’re well taken care of. I know it’s a lot to ask you to trust people that are still somewhat strangers, but we all have your best interests in mind here.”

“I know.” You say quietly. “It’s hard, not knowing much of anything. They tell you everything you should expect at the institute over and over again, then you get in it and everything is different. Nothing is like it should be. Nothing like they said. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I know. You were prepared for one life and got an entirely different one. Lucky for you, though, you’re surrounded by very understanding people who are more than happy to help you. I know this is so far from ideal for you, but I think you’re doing a fantastic job with what you were handed.”

You stare at your hands, thinking over her words. John’s called you a good omega before. He’s called you that a few times. He thinks you’re doing a good job, despite the fact you feel like none of your skills are useful here. Despite the fact you feel like you haven’t been trying.

You think over everything they’ve done for you, how hard they’ve tried to help make you as comfortable as possible. She’s right. They’re all so understanding and you know they like you. You can see it in their reactions to you, you can smell it on them. You know Gaz won’t let anything happen to you, even if something goes wrong.

They have yet to prove themselves untrustworthy, for the most part.

Maybe you really don’t have anything to worry about.

“Come on.” Ghost says, standing in your doorway. You almost don't recognize him in a beanie and surgical mask instead of his usual balaclava. “Get shoes on, and let’s go.”

“Go where?” You ask, sitting up on your bed.

“Shopping.” He says, before turning on his heel.

You frown, but do as he says, slipping on comfortable shoes and grabbing your phone. You head down the hall towards the door, a familiar car parked outside. Price and Ghost are waiting next to the car, both dressed in civilian clothes. You approach them hesitantly, suddenly feeling intimidated in the presence of the two alphas. You know you have nothing to worry about, but this is the first time you'll be alone with both of them.

Ghost steps up to you, a bottle in his hand. You barely have time to hold your breath before he sprays you down with scent blocker, the harsh chemicals burning your nose as they settle on your skin and cut off your scent. It's necessary, even with two alphas around you.

“Ready?” John asks, letting his eyes scan over your form for a second. He could probably pick up on your tension and uneasy energy from a mile away.

“Can...Can I ask why?” You ask as John opens the back door for you.

“Well, we can't have you starving to death on us, can we?” John smiles. “And we need to get a few things for your heat.”

“Oh.” You say, blinking up at him.

“Hop in. Hopefully we can get the shopping done before dinner.” John says.

Before you get hungry again.

You climb in the backseat, John closing the door before getting in the driver's side. Ghost is already in the passenger seat, buckled in and ready.

You sit and watch the landscape pass by, the car quiet except for the radio. The contrast between the two betas and the two alphas is almost as distinct as night and day. Johnny and Gaz had talked almost nonstop the entire drive to and back from town. Ghost and Price seem content in their silence, Ghost watching the landscape pass just like you.

It speaks volumes of their trust and ease with each other.

The farmlands turn to city and you find yourself back at Asda again. You hold John's hand as you walk, Ghost taking your other side, sandwiching you between them. People stare as you pass, their eyes on Ghost, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

You stick close to John as you walk through the store, picking up items you'll need for your heat, as well as some other things. Ghost follows like a shadow, people giving you a wide berth when they spot him. You're almost grateful for it. You swear some of them can tell you're about to start your heat, their eyes burning into you as they pass.

You can feel the beginnings of hunger starting to creep in as you walk down the bed liner aisle. You know if you weren't starting to get hungry, you would have been close to combusting from the knowledge of why this aisle was necessary.

You let out a sigh, leaning your head against John's arm as he crosses the bed liner off the list.

“What?” He asks, amusement in his voice.

“You know what I miss?” You say, wrapping your arms around one of his. “Good authentic Mexican food.”

The corner of John's lips lift in a smile. “Yeah? You getting hungry again?”

You nod, a subtle whine to your tone. “Yeah.”

John turns to look at Ghost, the two alphas having a seconds long silent conversation before Ghost heads off, disappearing from the aisle.

“Where's he going?” You ask.

“Getting a head start on the other supplies for your heat.” John says. “Just a couple more things, then your snacks and we'll be done and we'll get some dinner.”

You stop as you turn the corner around the end of the aisle, your eyes spotting a giant teddy bear. It looks soft and squishy, your pre-heat addled brain already picturing the perfect spot for it in your nest.

“You want it?” John asks, looking between you and the bear.

You snap back into reality for a moment, glancing up at the price. You nearly die on the spot, shaking your head. “I-I don't...”

John turns you to face him, speaking firmly. “Do you want it?”

You stare up into his eyes, nodding slowly.

His gaze softens just a bit, a smile tugging at his lips. “Then grab it.”

You're moving before you can even have a second thought, wrapping your arms around it and lifting it off the shelf. It's just as soft as you thought it would be, nearly as big as you are too. You can imagine cuddling it in your nest, napping contently, surrounded in soft plushness.

“C'mon pup.” John says, patting your back gently. You're purring, you realize suddenly, the sound leaving you entirely unconsciously. “Let's get you some snacks then we'll get dinner.”

You carry the bear, following John to the grocery section of the store. He takes you to the snack aisle and you pass the bear off to him, grabbing anything and everything that looks good, loading up the cart. You grab a few things from the American section as well, snacks you didn't think you'd miss, but right now they sound like manna straight from heaven.

“Simon's done with his part.” John says, glancing at his phone. “We'll meet back at the car.”

You take the bear back once you're done filling the cart with snacks, heading towards the checkout. You're hesitant to let the bear go long enough to be scanned before you're holding it again, purring quietly and contently.

John keeps his arm around you as you walk through the parking lot towards the car. There's already bags in the trunk from Ghost, the alpha already in the passenger seat. They must have both been carrying keys to the car. Safety precautions. Things most people wouldn't even think about.

“Thank you.” You say as John fills the trunk with the rest of the bags. “You didn't have to do this.”

“Yes we did.” John says, looking down at you. “Not going let you starve like that if we can help it.”

“It's still strange to me, getting taken care of.” You say, squeezing the bear. “Still makes me feel a bit like a sugar baby.”

John chuckles. “Don't worry, I won't make you call me daddy.” He leans in close to your ear. “Unless you want to.”

Your face burns hot, your entire body igniting with heat at his words. He gives you a gentle pat on the ass, directing you to the door of the car before taking the cart back to the store.

Your face is still burning as you attempt to climb into the car with your bear, giving up and stuffing it in first.

“What the hell is that?” Ghosts asks, turning to look at you.

“My new bear.” You respond, arranging the bear so its sitting in the seat beside you.

“Christ.” He breathes, and you can practically hear the eye roll as you buckle the bear in.

You buckle yourself in as John climbs in the driver's seat.

“All set?” He asks, turning to look at you.

You nod, smiling happily despite the hunger eating away at you.

“Let's get some dinner, then we'll head back to base.” John says, turning on the car. “Can't have our omega starving on us, can we?”

Ghost snorts. “Best feed her before she decides we look appetizing.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You'd be too gamey, Ghost.” You say, eyeing him before turning your gaze to the seat in front of you. “John, though...” You lick your lips. “I already know you taste good.”

John lets out a deep chuckle that rumbles with the edge of a pleased growl. “Easy, kitten.”

Ghost lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. “Spare me. Now there's two of ‘em.”

John chuckles again, squeezing Ghost's shoulder. “Little did you know, Simon.”

Ghost turns to look at John. “Is it too late to get a refund?”

You stifle a giggle as John smiles. “You'll have to ask Laswell.”

Ghost sighs, turning to look out the window. “No hope for it, then.”

“Hey, at least I'm cute!” You grin. “Don't tell Johnny I said that.”

You practically beam with pride as you see Ghost's shoulders shake with his laughter. Maybe you can get through to him more than you think you can.

Maybe, just maybe, you can get him to like you.

The knock comes at your door unexpectedly. It's late, and you had just begun to feel the pangs of hunger once more. You hate it, but you know it's necessary considering you'll have to go roughly a week getting in nothing but what nutrient bars can offer while exerting insane amounts of energy. Your body needs to store the calories now so that you don't die during your heat.

You're surprised to see Ghost on the other side of the door, back in his balaclava. His shoulders are squared, but you can't scent any anger or hostility on him.

He almost seems...nervous.

“Hungry?” He asks, staring down at you.

“Always.” You answer almost instinctively, staring up into his deep brown eyes.

He motions for you to follow with his head. “C'mon.”

You frown a little, but you step out of your room, closing the door behind you. You follow him towards the rec room, staring at his broad back. His shoulders are still squared, hands in his pockets.

The rec room is set up again not unlike it was for your date with John. The card table is out and there's foil covered dishes on it, along with a couple plates. Your brows raise in surprise as you take it all in.

“I made you something.” Ghost says, moving over to the table, removing the foil from one of the dishes.

You move closer, blinking in surprise. “You made...enchiladas?”

He nods. “As close as I could get with what I could find on short notice. There's rice and beans, too. And salsa.”

Tears blur your vision as you stare down at the food on the table. It smells delicious and that's not just your ravenous pre-heat hunger talking. “You...did this for me?”

“Well, I had help,” He says, looking past you.

You turn, Soap and Gaz standing at the windows that frame the door to the rec room. They smile and wave at you as you turn to look at them. A quiet laugh leaves your mouth as you smile at them.

“Help yourself.” Ghost says as you turn back to the table. “There's plenty.”

You serve yourself a plate, nearly melting off the chair as you take the first bite. It takes you all the way back home, the good years when your father was stationed in Texas.

“Taste okay?” Ghost asks, watching you. “I know it's not authentic, but I did a lot of research.”

“It's amazing, Ghost. Really.” You say. “Tastes just like the ones my mom would make.” You wipe at the tears in your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.”

He shrugs, looking almost bashful. “It's the least I could do. I know how big of a deal heats are to omegas and how nervous you've been. Thought you could use a little comfort.”

You smile softly. “That means a lot.” You can't help but giggle softly. “I knew you liked me deep down.”

He gives you a look, making you giggle even more. “Don't push it.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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cyber333angel · 5 months

Text

♫ BEST TIME SHE’S EVER HAD! ♫

Dadsbestfriend!Toji & virginblack!reader

CAUTION ⚠️

This work contains: age gaps (reader is in college and toji is in late thirties), praise, sprinkle of degradation, sprinkle of exhibition, reader is a virgin but is not clueless about sex

NOTE: my first fic omg!! I literally wrote this in a day but I had this idea and I was so excited to get it out, pls enjoy 😉

toji was your dads best friend, they met about two and half years ago. he hadn’t known you long but he grew fond of you the more he saw you . the two of you officially met at you when you were 19 at a summer get together , and no, he never saw you as anyone but his best friends daughter until you were about more than 6 months in your sophomore year of college. you had started being more confident in yourself and knowing your worth. you were now 21.

moreover , the pair had really hit it off and ever since then toji has came to your house often, whether it’s game night or the superbowl he was always there . almost done with your second year of college you were home for spring break meaning you had to see this older man at least 2 times a week in your home, you weren’t uncomfortable with him, no, if anything you had a bit of a crush on the man.. he was taller than you by about a foot and a half and muscular, you knew he worked out but anytime you stood in front of him it felt like you were shrinking . you liked the thought of dating an older man and that has always been your type but unfortunately that was only fantasi because you have never dated anyone let alone kissed a boy . toji was always nice and respectful to you but keeping a sort of distance from you and that left you a little puzzled .

in toji’s head he kept his distance from you because he was attracted to his best friends only daughter and that made him feel like a horrible friend . he would have thoughts of you at night when he jerked off , imagining how tight your cunt would be and how sweet your moans would be from the stretch of his cock but he would shoo those thoughts away with a cough and try to distract himself whenever he thought about it .

back at your house there is a guest room where toji typically stayed in whenever it got too late. on a particularly hot day in the springtime , the wide window in the guest room faces the pool and chairs where you occasionally sun bathe in , with your little bikinis . wanting to get the full tan for your brown skin, you unhook your bra and lay your chest on the chair, back facing the sun while you listen to music. toji seeing this from a distance, got a glance at your breast before you rolled over making him fluster, he packs up the stuff he left from the night before and attempts to head out but for some reason he wanted to let you know he was leaving. not hearing toji coming from the back door from your headphones, toji walks over, you hear a mumbling and turn over, surprised to see tojis large figure standing over you, embarrassed you cover your breast and scramble to find your bikini top . toji turns his head to make you feel less embarrassed he goes .

“sorry-uh just wanted to tell you I was heading out, you could tell yer pops I’ll see him this weekend. goodbye.”

you find ur bra at the side of your chair and and nod while putting it on a rather quick and quiet “goodbye.” you feel heat on your cheeks and see him leave through the gates that lead to the driveway. you cover your face in your arms and decide you got enough of a tan and head back into your house .

putting that memory in the back of your mind, it was now the weekend, and your dad has decided to have a watch party of some wrestling show you heard your dad say where there would be booze and nachos with his best guy . your mother was having a girls trip and wouldn’t be back until sunday morning so naturally you stayed in your room with snacks while your dad and toji where in the living room. you stepped out in some shorts and a small top only to get some more food and drinks but you catch toji taking a glance at you, when the two of you lock eyes he waves at you, being polite you wave back and quickly break the eye contact with himm, you feel your cheeks burn again and rush up the stairs . toji watchches your ass bounce up the stairs and feels his dick twitch in his pants, he coughs and goes back to watching the fight going on the flat screen tv.

after a couple of hours around 1:30 am, your dad passes out on the couch leaving toji to clean up their little mess. whilst he cleans you creep down the stairs in the same little shorts that make your ass look so plump, with both of your hands busy with empty dishes, toji sees you struggling to hold it all at once and goes over to help you and grabs the dishes out your hands .

“oh thank you mr. fushiguro..” you say quietly but loud enough that he can hear . “oh no problem sweetheart, and please you know you can just call me toji” knowing he has told you to call him by his first name many times, you were too intimidated by him you slipped up. “ yea sorry mr.fush-toji” you say looking down .

he chuckles and tells you it was no problem , after a little awkward silence he ask a question “how has college life been going?” a little surprised that he is interested in your school life you answer “oh s’alright the work has been kicking my ass and i kind of have just been keeping to myself for a while but at least i get a break!” you say smiling, that action almost made him pounce on you right there but he kept his composure “ah that’s good, no boys then?” more than startled at the question you quickly say no “no no I haven’t dated anyone, not even in high school .” your try to cover with a laugh but toji still stuck on the subject “that’s unbelievable..i haven’t known you for too long but I can say truly say from the last 2 years, I’ve seen you grow into one of the most confident and beautiful women.. all the boys at your school should be waiting in line just to talk to you honestly . “ your mouth is left with a little “o” from the praise filled compliment that you just got from the older man, you stumble out a little “thank you” if you could blush your head would be as read as a tomato . but you notice toji getting closer

“im sorry kid, I think im gettin a little tipsy here but I have wanted to tell you that for a while ..and I’ve wanted to do this for ages”

he gently grabs the back of your head and kisses you passionately, never experienced something like this before, your eyes twitch . they are almost halfway closed and not knowing what do with your tongue or your hands, they just fall to the side of your body . and suddenly he lifts your two arms above him, resting them on his shoulders and picking you up by your ass, he places you on the island and his rough fingers grip your face as he kisses you. “breathe kid, juust like this, good job“ he shows you how to kiss him back and eventually you both get into a fluid flow . you mewl into his mouth “m-mph ha it feels good-so good” you manage to get out in between kisses “yeah it feels good sweetie? daddy making you feel good?” taken aback by the proclaimed nickname for himself but too into how good he’s making you feel with only his toungue you go a long with it “y-yes so good daddy..I think your getting me sticky down there..”

his cock hardens from the innocent comment but you both halt all movement when you hear a groan coming from the living room . your dad, intoxicated doesn’t seem to realize this inappropriate scene between his best friend and daughter in the dim lit kitchen, he stumbles while he walks upstairs to fall asleep on a more comfortable bed. you both look back at each other and giggle before giving each other little kiss pecks and suddenly he picks you up again to take you to your bedroom. when you arrive he sits on the bed first and then you on tojis lap, “I wanna make you feel even better how does that sound hmm? gonna let me make you feel good?” you nod fast and he grips your waist to make you fit between his thighs, “I can take these off right babydoll?” he asks and you say “yes” a little embarrassed by the position your in . he caresses your thighs while kissing your from the side and he takes both your short shorts and panties in his hand, he lifts your butt up a little to get your bottoms of and immediately has his hand on the inside of your thighs “has anyone ever touched this sweet cunt before me pretty girl? or just these little dainty fingers?” you flinch from his touch as he gets closer and closer to your bare pussy, “no only on my own, been saving myself for the right person ..” interested in this response “you’ve been saving for the right person huh, that’s a shame.. probably couldn’t cum right without daddy huh” gasping from the tension of his wandering fingers, you get impatient with how long its taking for him to touch the most needy part of you .

“ yes daddy, wanted you so bad..” you say grabbing his hand and leading it to your soaking wet cunt “ wan you t’make me come please!” toji suprised with this action, doesn’t think twice before he sticks his one thick finger in your tight hole, kissing you deeply he thrusts it in and out, with just his one finger that reminds you of when you are alone, trying to get off with just your fingers, this was a better and more full feeling. toji sees you loosen up and he adds his second finger witch fills you almost instantly, you mewl and squeal from the intense stretch your cunt currently feels . so toji takes his left hand, large and burly and places it over your mouth, not wanting to wake your dad from your loud moans .

“shh your doing so well taking my fingers for daddy..so good”

a particular movement from his hands causes you to twitch from his back and he calms you down “oh goood girl, so fuckin sweet f’me..go ahead and rub that pretty clit for me go ahead.” you automatically place your hands on your clit and start rubbing in a clockwise direction . with the help of tojis thick fingers you start to cum and cream around his fingers . you take your hands from your abused cunt and relax, not nearly as tired as you are when you pleasure yourself . thinking nothing of toji moving his hand from your mouth to your throat, you realize he hasn’t taken his fingers out your messy hole yet . he grips your throat gently and starts a fast pace of thrusting his fingers in out of your hole again, you gasp and try to grip the hand that’s making this rapid pace, you hear the embarrassing squelches of your wet cunt and stutter out

“mhph i already c-came toji please! mm-fuck slow down!”

toji wanting to set a clear boundary of who is in control, he corrects your choice of words, gripping your throat a little harder “watch your fucking mouth when your with me alright? im not one of your little friends, i dont wanna hear that word again . you hear me?”

you nod frantically “m’sorry daddy, won’t do it again i promise!”

“atta girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

a few more pumps of his fingers and you cum around his fingers once again, he pulls his fingers out your cunt making you shiver . taking the two fingers that were previously in your cunt and sticking it in his mouth . “fucking hell.. such a sweet pussy, you wanna taste of how good you are?”before you could answer he thrust his fingers in your mouth and you moan, a bitter but delightful taste .

tired from this whole late night romp you fall asleep in his arms, toji still hard from this ordeal, takes his cock from his boxer briefs and finishes all over your stomach, not feeling too bad about it because you fell asleep before you could even help him cum , toji heads to the bathroom to get a cloth to clean the inside of your thighs and stomach , when he finishes cleaning up , he leaves a kiss on your forehead and falls asleep next to you.

..in the morning you wake up before toji and remember everything that happened the night before feeling so happy and like a new woman . that happiness is interrupted when your father knocks on your door. panicking with the tall older man in your bed you yell “one second dad im dressing! I’ll be right out!!” you shake toji by his shoulders and he blinks awake rubbing his eyes. not seeing the concern in your eyes he wraps his arms around your waist . “ how did you sleep babydoll?”

not caring to answer “my dad is outside right now, go stand in my bathroom or something!!” immediately hearing that he rushes to the bathroom and you jump from your bed to answer the door . “did I hear someone in here?” he looks around but you tell him “no! I was just cleaning up yknow, I was in my room all night so I just kept myself busy with some crafts.” your dad falling for this lie, oblivious to the fact that his daughter was just fingered to sleep by his best friend. “ah okay, sorry about that honey. I’ll make sure to invite you next time! anyway we have to go pick up your mother from her trip so get dressed.” you go to say okay but your father adds on “oh by the way have you seen toji ? he wasn’t in the guest room and his car is still here.” shocked by the sudden mention of toji you blurt out “oh he is probably in the bathroom, I think i heard some noise when I woke up” your dad agrees to that idea and leaves you alone . closing the door you sigh and toji erupts from your bathroom “tsk your a very bad girl for lying to your father, what would he think of his daughter playing with with men in his own house hmm? crying for “daddy” and such?” you roll your eyes at the comment and toji steps closer to give you a deep kiss before he leaves . “ I really liked the “crafts” we did last night sweetheart, let’s do it again next weekend.” mortified from the teasing of your earlier conversation he leaves from your door and you hear him start his car .

to be continued..

#toji x reader <3 #first long fic!!#jjk #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jujustu kaisen smut #Spotify

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watermelonlovershigh · 5 months

Text

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

A Shift Occurs {part 4.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: when i started this chapter i had intended for it to go in a completely different direction but as i began writing it, i let the words flow and wrote it this way instead. i really hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave your feedback and remember to send in things you'd like to see in this series. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of handjobs and blowjobs, slight angst, pillow talk, cunilingus, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - friends to lovers trope - softrry }

word count- 3,459

While making arrangements to introduce your friends to Harry, he seizes the chance to ask about your abrupt departure after your intimate encounter earlier that day. This conversation unexpectedly leads to Harry performing oral sex on you for the first time.

As you make your way around the street corner, you are greeted by your friends, Mave and Charlotte, who are waving you over to the table they had set aside for your brunch. The cafe features a beautiful outdoor space, perfect for the current time of year. Upon joining them, they quickly pick up on your more upbeat attitude. While you typically don't appear gloomy, you have been feeling rather indifferent for the past year. However today, they observe a slight improvement in your mood.

"Hi, Hi." you lean in to kiss each of their cheeks and sit down at the round table.

"We've ordered you a mimosa. Wasn't sure what you wanted to eat so we haven't ordered our food yet though." Charlotte explans.

"Oh, well thank you." you take a sip of your mimosa and moan at how delicious the drink is.

"What's making you so cheerful today? Is it because of Harry?" Mave questions with cheeky smile, aware of your growing connection with your housemate and the recent revelation of your mutual feelings towards one another. Your friends are genuinely happy for you, knowing how long you've been single and how it affected you.

Brushing them off, you answer, "What? A girl can't look happy on a Sunday morning without there being a reason?" But they know you better then that. The aurora you're giving off is one of a girl who's in love. Though they wouldn't tell you that this soon in your relationship with Harry.

"No it's just," Mave starts, "look, we want the details. Did you guys have sex this morning? Because you look like your glowing and it's not from your skincare routine." Her and Charlotte stare you down, waiting for an answer and you know you must give them one. Otherwise they'll never let this conversation rest.

"Alright, alright. We did do some sexual stuff this morning. But not sex. I just kind of gave him a handjob which then turned into a blowjob."

Your two friends are smiling ear to ear at your confession. "And.... what else? Don't tell us he left you high and dry after you literally had his dick in your mouth." Charlotte utters in a hushed yet audible tone, ensuring that you can hear her amidst the bustling traffic and crowd, while hopefully keeping your conversation private from others.

You express with annoyance in your tone, "It wasn't as you think. I woke up to find him cuddling me and noticed he was aroused. Therefore, I chose to assist him. Once he woke up and realized he was hard, he eventually agreed to my help. I began by giving him a handjob under his briefs, but then decided to go further with a blowjob. And he didn't reciprocate because I left quickly after he came. So, I'm unsure whether he would've wanted to do something for me in return."

Mave reaches across the table and playfully swats your arm. "You fuckin' idiot. You should have stayed to see if he would've pleasured you as well. You could've gotten an amazing orgasm out of him."

"Hey," you spit back, "I did have an amazing orgasm this morning. Just... with my vibrator in the shower before I came here." Though you're sure Harry would beat every single one of your toys if you gave him the chance to prove it.

After chatting for a few more minutes you realized just how hungry you were and decided to order your food and another round of mimosas. You catch up on each others lives and make plans for them to come by the house to hang out one night. They have yet to meet Harry and you thought what better way to introduce them than to invite them over for some drinks and maybe a card game. You'll just have to ask him if that would be okay.

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

Upon returning home later that evening, you notice Harry seated on the sofa, engrossed in a pile of papers and his laptop resting on his lap. Presumably grading tests, you assume. After placing your bag in the entryway, you make your way over to the couch. Surprisingly, the atmosphere doesn't feel as awkward as you had anticipated, considering the events that unfolded earlier in the day.

"How was your brunch?" Harry questions, shifting to set all of his work onto the coffee table.

"Great. Really fun." you answer before continuing, "So I have a question."

"Hm, so do I actually but go on." Harry replies, taking a sip of his coffee. He doesn't know what your question is but he knows his question is in reference to why you ran off so quickly this morning after you gave him that blowjob. It's been eating at his mind all day and he'd really like some closure so he can relax.

"Okay, so I was thinking we could have a little get-together with my friends, Mave and Charlotte. They're eager to meet you, and I thought it would be a great opportunity to invite them over this upcoming weekend. We can enjoy some drinks and perhaps even play that card game I purchased some time ago but haven't had the chance to play yet."

Harry nods in agreement. "Yeah, sounds great. How about this Friday night? I can stop by the shops on my way home from work and grab some alcohol. Just let me know what kind they prefer." He is genuinely excited to finally meet your friends. Since becoming your housemate, you've kept your personal life mostly private from him. As a result, he hasn't had the chance to meet any of your family members and has only heard stories about your friends.

"Fantastic," you declare, jumping up from the couch excitedly. "I'll call them right away and let them know. They'll be so happy." Just as Harry was about to remind you that he had a question as well, you've already disappeared from his line of sight. Your sudden departures today seem to be a trend. He reckons he'll have to wait a bit longer to find out the reasoning behind your quick exit this morning.

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

At approximately ten o'clock at night, you and Harry are lying in your bed, watching reruns of Friends while trying to stay awake. The room is dark besides the glare of the tv and his cat Pixie is nestled in the middle of the bed, sleeping soundly. Although she hasn't always been allowed in your room, ever since Harry started visiting so frequently, you have embraced her presence as well.

Right as your eyes began to shut, you remember how Harry had a question for you earlier but never got to ask it. You didn't mean to run off like you did. You just got excited to call your friends and let them know they're welcomed to come by the house this Friday for the small gathering. Which in turn made you totally forget he had a question in the first place.

"Harry," you say aloud. The call of his name startles him. He'd just dozed off to sleep and your voice pulled him away from the unconsciousness he was about to enter.

"Mhm, what?" he grumbles, eyes half open as he tries to stay awake in order to hear you speak.

"What's your question? You said earlier you had a question but you never got to ask me it."

Harry found himself more awake as he thought about how to bring up his question. To be honest, he was feeling a bit nervous to ask. Even though this question had been on his mind all day, he hesitated to ask, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or create any distance between you. "Um, was just gonna ask why you left so suddenly this mornin'. You know, after you gave me that blowjob? It seemed like you were ashamed of your actions or somethin'. I was plannin' to return the favor, but you left before I had the opportunity to ask."

With heart shaped eyes, you coo softly, "You were?"

"Well yeah. It's only right that I returned the favor you did for me. I'm not a douche bag like some men can be."

"Awe, that's so sweet of you. But um, I don't know. Guess I remembered how I'd just woke up and maybe didn't smell the best down there or that I may have tasted bad from the hours of sleep I was in prior. Just didn't want to disgust you in any way."

With a gentle tone, Harry expressed, "Y/n, your scent or taste wouldn't have been an issue for me. Even if it was there, I wouldn't have mind. Because it's you, and I genuinely care about you. I would have found pleasure in it regardless. If anyone has ever made you feel insecure about the natural smell of your vagina, they are truly right dicks"

Breathing deeply, you sadly admit, "Yeah, I've had some men attempt to go down on me first thing in the morning but complained about the way I smelt or tasted and so, I just didn't want you to do the same as them."

Sliding impossibly close to you, Harry responds back, "Well I'm not those other men. I respect women more than that and I may just have a thing for oral sex. Givin' and receivin'. Plus, it feels even better when you really know and trust the person."

You giggle shyly and except his closeness, the two of you laying on your sides facing each other. "Dick or pussy though?"

"What?" Harry asks with a sleepy smile, unsure of what you're questioning.

"You said you had a thing for oral sex. So do you prefer sucking dick or eating pussy?"

"Mhm, depends on who the person is and my connection to them. Both are great but it also depends on what mood I'm in to give you a solid answer." It's no secret Harry likes men as well. When you first moved in with him he had a short fling with a guy and you assumed he was gay for like the first month. But then when you heard a girl moaning through his bedroom walls, you realized that wasn't the case. The next day you questioned him and he confidently came out as bisexual to you.

Deciding to continue these questions just to see where it could lead, you keep going, "And, what mood are you in right now?"

Harry suddenly became aware of the dense atmosphere, yet he responded truthfully. "Considerin' that I'm currently in your bed, nearly cuddling you, and you happen to possess a vagina, I would say 'pussy.' However, if I were to discover that you possessed a penis, the answer would be 'cock.'"

He moves one of his hands up to cradle the side of your face. It's so incredibly close to his that he can just about taste the mint of your toothpaste. "Good thing I have one of those two options then and I'm not some alien with no genitals at all."

What Harry wants to say is that he'd love you just the same, even if you were a genitalless alien, but he can't. Not yet anyways. So he responds, "Wouldn't change how I feel about you." With the close proximity, you get the sudden urge to surge forward and clash your lips with his. As if he felt this coming, Harry didn't react surprised at all and accepts the kiss. You both realized this is the first time you've kissed each other. You've shared your feelings, your beds, and you've gave him a blowjob. Yet this makes your first time kissing.

Harry intensifies the kiss by gently prodding his tongue against your lips, and you grant him permission to enter. The kiss is wet, rushed, and somewhat messy, yet incredibly enjoyable. After a minute of exchanging saliva, you pull back to take a deep breath and confidently state, "Prove it then. Prove you're in the mood for some pussy."

With surprise written on his face, Harry leans back a tiny bit to make sure he's reading you correctly. "You sure? I don't have to if......" He'd be more than happy to eat you out right here, right now, but he doesn't want you to ask because you feel obligated to agree or because you're in the heat of the moment.

Responding eagerly, you assert, "Yes, I'm sure. But please be quick before I change my mind." The mention of urgency and the potential for a change of mind prompts Harry to swiftly toss the covers back and carefully positions himself between your legs. He gently lifts Pixie from the bed and places her on the floor where she discovers her cat bed near the window sill and resumes her peaceful sleep.

At this very moment, Harry finds himself surprisingly nervous as he positions himself between your legs. Although he has longed to perform oral sex on you, both this morning and in his countless fantasies, the actual prospect of doing so fills him with apprehension that he may not satisfy you adequately. Additionally, he frets over the possibility of being unable to bring you to orgasm.

Curiosity arose within you as to why Harry was taking such a long time, prompting you to prop yourself up on your elbows. From this viewpoint, you observed him fixating on your bottom half, which was concealed by some skimpy shorts you typically sleep in. However, as soon as he notices your gaze upon him, he swiftly reaches up and tugs at the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs. To his astonishment, you're not wearing any panties which causing Harry to let out a moan upon catching sight of your naked pussy.

Despite the room being enveloped in a soft glow from the television, it remained dimly lit and quiet. Harry couldn't obtain a clear image of your exposed cunt but he could perceive enough to develop a strong liking to it already. However, this attraction isn't solely based on the physical appearance of your vagina, but rather because it's a part of you.

Harry looks up once more to ensure your approval for his actions. With a nod of reassurance from you, he eagerly begins. His mouth envelops your entire pussy, as his tongue moves from your wet entrance to your sensitive clit. The flavor of you on his tongue almost brings him to climax instantly, hands free. This is undoubtedly the best cunt he's ever had. Your skin is incredibly soft and inviting, with only a few short hairs littered around your bikini area from the shave you did two days ago.

As your elbows grow weaker, you find yourself sinking into the comfortable bed below. Harry's tongue skillfully laps up your arousal before focusing on your clit and experimenting with various flicking patterns. Each time his tongue glides over the sensitive nerves, your entire body responds with a powerful jolt of electricity. It's no secret that your clit is extremely sensitive when receiving attention from the right person.

"Oh fuck, Harry. Feels so good." you moan aloud, reaching down to grab onto his curly locks.

You fear he'll tell you not to touch him, but as he briefly moves his mouth away, he commands, "Tug my hair, baby. It feels amazing." Could it be that he just referred to you as 'baby' for the first time? You believe so, and it heightens your arousal even further.

Listening to Harry's wishes, you pull his hair tightly in your fists, causing his face to be nestled against your pussy impossibly closer than before. You begin to move your hips, creating a subtle rocking motion. Although he may feel a slight burning sensation on his scalp due to the intensity of your grip, as he mentioned, he loves the sensation it gives.

A minute more goes by of Harry munching down on your wet pussy when you feel your orgasm nearly bubble over. "I... I'm..." you try to warn but can't even get the words out from how much pleasure you're in. Harry doesn't say a word back, just goes in even harder, more determined to bring you over the edge.

You finally achieve orgasm when he seals his lips around your clit, applying firm and forceful sucks. Your clitoris pulsates within his mouth, causing you to release an animalistic scream as your orgasm sweeps through your body. Your entire body trembles, compelling Harry to firmly hold your hips to keep you in place. He continues sucking on your clit until your orgasm begins to fade and overstimulation sets in.

The hands that once laced in his hair start trying to push his head away. "Har.... Oh God!" you gasp when he gives your tiny nerve a few more kitten licks to make sure he's pulled every ounce of pleasure from you that he can. You lie there trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm as Harry sits up on his knees, breathing heavy with a glossy mouth.

Eager to know, though the answer should be evident with how you look right now, Harry asks, "So.... was I any good? Did that prove what mood I was in to you?"

You glance forward to see a devilish smile plastered on Harry's face and just know he's proud of himself. Which, he should. You don't think you've ever came so hard in your entire life. "Yes," you heave, "Oh God, yes. I'm...., that was, God. That was the best orgasm I've ever had."

"Yeah? You just tellin' me that to boost my ego or are you tellin' the truth?"

"Harry, I quit literally can't feel my bones right now. They're like jello. No man nor any one of my strongest vibrators have made me come that hard. No wonder the ladies liked you."

With the awareness that it's already very late and he has work the next morning, Harry decides to rise from the bed and make his way to the bathroom in the hallway to fetch a damp cloth. Your exhaustion prevents you from mustering the energy to question his actions. When he returns, you immediately recognize what he has and instinctively close your legs, still experiencing discomfort.

Harry takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and lightly taps your thighs, silently requesting you to open up. Reluctantly, you comply. As you feel the damp cloth glide over your swollen pussy, you try to pull away, but he firmly holds you in place with one hand on your hip bone. "Shh, it's alright," he reassures you in a gentle tone. "I'm just gonna clean you up, and then we can sleep, okay?"

As you lie on the bed, you notice Harry's erection prominently displayed through his black briefs and a pang of guilt washes over you for not pleasuring him. "But.......what about you? You're still hard. I could give you another blowjob or handjob. Whatever you want." Despite the tempting offer, Harry is too exhausted to engage in any additional activities tonight. Prior to this moment, he was on the brink of unconsciousness. Consequently, his drowsy state has returned as the explicit actions have ceased.

"It'll eventually go away, Y/n. I've got work in the mornin' and it's past midnight as is. Plus m'too tired to do anythin' more tonight. But, if I wasn't so tired and didn't have work so early, then you bet your ass I'd take you up on that offer."

Harry finishes cleaning between your legs and helps you slip your shorts back on. He then turns the TV off and crawls back into your bed beside you. Though your limbs are still weak, you manage to slide over until your head rests on his bare chest and your top leg is thrown over his hairy thigh closest to you.

As the moonlight glows through your bedroom window, sleep takes over both of you as the world around becomes quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are Pixie's soft purring from her location on the floor, the steadiness of Harry's heartbeat, and your exhails of breath.

In your dreaming state, you're still excited for the arrival of this upcoming Friday where you eagerly await the moment when your friends will finally have the chance to meet Harry. With high hopes for a successful gathering, you envision a joyous time ahead. Unbeknownst to Harry, the card game planned for the small get-together holds an R rating, implying that it will serve as an opportunity for everyone to bond and deepen their connections without the need for uncomfortable conversations in the future. Plus, mixed with the alcohol, you can't wait to find out some of Harry's dirty secrets.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet // @meetmyblondemuffins // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles // @skyangel57 // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss // @kissmyaxe140 // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom // @swiftmendeshoran

// @luv-flor7777 // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone // @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry // @shadowygladiatorlight // @manifestrry //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

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My Masterlist Masterpost

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic rec #friend!harry #friendrry #housemate!harry #housematerry #softrry #soft!harry #harry x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #friends to lovers #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #teacher!harry #bisexual!harry

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blouisparadise · 3 months

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of June. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Library of Kloetomlinson Fics | Various Ratings | Various Word Counts

This user uploaded 35 bottom Louis fics to AO3 in the month of June, so rather than adding them each individually, we've linked to their account here.

2) Fiction, Future & Predictions | General Audiences | 2,692 words

“It had been a warm Sunday morning when Harry went for his stroll.”

3) Not The Chocolate Mousse | Explicit | 3,537 words

“A salad will do you better than a pizza. Drink some juice while you’re at it,” Harry said with a smirk. Louis groaned, he was not in the mood for Harry being his typical self. “Just let me use the oven,” Louis whined. “Nope!” Harry said with a grin. “You stupid, fucking twat,” Louis mumbled while turning his back to Harry and opening the fridge door to see if there was anything else in there to eat. As he took a look he heard a splat and felt something wet and cold on his neck. When he turned around he saw Harry with the spatula in the air. He had just flung cake batter at Louis. “What the fuck are you doing?” Louis asked, surprised.

4) Pleasure in the Dark | Explicit |3,673 words

“You feel delicious. So pretty and so tiny I could break you.” The talk of size difference is making Louis squirt once more. Louis stands at 5ft whilst the Beasts in front is at least at 8ft. Louis holds no comparison.”

5) Take My Hand, Dumbass | General Audiences | 5,914 words

There's only alpha dorms at university, and Louis Tomlinson, omega, refuses to pay the exorbitant fees to live off campus. So, four years pretending to be an alpha it is! That'll be easy. And maybe it would be easy, if not for the depri and the annoying alpha roommate and the fact that Louis is, honestly, a bit too stubborn for his own good.

6) Couldn't Forget You If I Tried | Explicit | 7,064 words

“What if he’s ugly?” Zayn leans in the doorway to the living room, raising an eyebrow and fixing Louis with a perplexed gaze. “Then you’ll call me and get me out of it,” Louis attempts a shrug as best as he can with the couch cushions laid out around him. Louis smirks, “I’m going to text him back.” Louis sits up, his eyebrows pull together, and he crafts a perfectly worded text back to the mysterious man he’s been texting with vaguely throughout the week. He writes: "7 is perfect. See you then. x" “I’m not bailing you out of this one. If he’s ugly and boring and terrible you’re just going to have to deal with it,” Zayn shakes his head and crosses his arms, his signal that the conversation is well and truly done. Louis doesn’t mind. He’s got a date.

7) Little Love | Not Rated | 8,741 words

Written for the Omegaverse fic fest for prompt: 205. L & H are FBI/CIA/MI6/whatever agents and best friends. L goes on a mission without H (they’re partners, so they usually go together) and he doesn’t return. 2 yrs later he returns to the agency after escaping from wherever he was (maybe he was kidnapped, experimented on, etc., can be up to the author!). H tries to get L to talk about why he was gone/what he went through, but L isn’t ready. They continue to go on missions, but L is falling apart. Maybe he’s having nightmares, flashbacks, etc. Whoever held L captive ends up finding him again and takes him back. He either escapes again or H finds him. The author can obviously add stuff! This is more like an outline, maybe? Preferably omega L & alpha H, but ultimately up to author. Would love to see the other boys in it too, but that’s up to the author as well!

8) Louis and the Very Terrible, No Good Sleep | Explicit | 1046 words

Louis had always been used to sleeping in a puppy pile back home. It was something that just happened, with all of his siblings being omegas, they just ended up in a giant nest all together, and Louis loved to cuddle in the warmth, and breathe in the familiar scent of home. He hadn’t thought much about it when, after graduating from the local uni, he got a job offer in Brighton and had to leave the family den.

9) мое солнце | Mature | 12,809 words

Harry has committed many crimes and sins, but when judgment day comes the first thing God will charge him for is touching his lost angel, his sweet Louis. But who can judge him? Louis would make any man fall for him, he has whoever he wants and he wanted Harry. When Harry laid hands on that body for the first time, he knew there would be no turning back, no matter the price he paid to God, now that omega was his private angel.

10) You Just Be Yourself | Not Rated | 13,168 words

“Thanks, Mom.” Louis’ breath was knocked right out of him at those words, and Grey froze. They then immediately pulled out of Louis’ arms and scurried out of sight before either Harry or Louis could respond. “Shit,” Harry cursed quietly, looking between Louis and where Grey had disappeared. “I…” Louis blinked and looked down at the boxes still scattered on the floor. By the time he had gathered them back up, Harry was also gone.

11) The Rulers of the Underworld | Not Rated | 13,716 words

Louis and Harry are enemies. It‘s as simple as that. After Harry‘s Dad, the Mafia Boss of England dies, Harry has to take over and the Tomlinsons, the Mafia of Germany, want to take advantage of that. What will happen? Will Louis Tomlinson successfully take over the Mafia of England? Will the two enemies fall in love or will they end up killing the most important thing of the other?

12) Back Where We Belong | Not Rated | 15,660 words

An exes to lover university!au where louis did not know how to express his concern in the relationship and harry did not know his omega was feeling this way.

13) We Chase The Stars To Lose Our Shadow | Explicit | 15,962 words

“I think it may be time for you to try something… different.” Louis fidgets on his sofa, nervous. “What - what do you have in mind? A new medication?” He is less than enthused about being forced onto another medication. He has already tried most of them, to no avail, and the cocktail of prescriptions he is currently taking has been very expensive, even after using his drug benefit copay for each refill. “Sort of…. Louis, have you heard of Prescription Pillows?”

14) Frightened By The Bite, No Harsher Than The Bark | Teen & Up | 21,611 words

Louis loves going to the barricade during his shows. If it’s because he’s got a bit (lot) of touch deprivation and is using it as an excuse to have his big alpha bodyguard, Harry, touch him, well, that’s a secret he doesn’t need to tell.

15) Scarred | Explicit | 23,284 words

As a male omega, Louis has learned to live with disappointment and rejection, but he dreams of the day he finds his soulmate. When Harry inadvertently rejects him as his soulmate, Harry has no idea he's doomed Louis to a slow, painful death. Pride doesn't keep Louis from telling Harry the truth. But love does.

16) On A Starlit Night | Mature | 24,175 words

“Then… then, what is your motive?” “Must I have one?” Louis scoffed. “What, so am I to believe you just woke up one day and thought ‘Yeah actually, I would like to be one of the suitors of my pack Luna’s ceremony’?” “There’s no motive, nothing like you’re thinking,” Harry replied, glancing at him. “I don’t know what the alphas out there want. I just want a chance to show that I can be a good alpha that can fulfil your needs, both as your mate as well as in supporting you in your Luna duties. Just a chance to show you how well I could care for you, if you were to pick me.” Louis was floored by his sincerity. “That’s all you want? Just that?” Just me? “Yeah.”

17) The Mountain Between Us | Not Rated | 52,221 words

Harry is a surgeon and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to perform a surgery in fourteen hours in Boston. Louis is a journalist and stranded at Salt Lake City International Airport. He is to be married in ten hours. They decide to charter a private airplane to Denver, where they will get on their respective flights and part ways. Or so they thought.

18) Stranded | Teen & Up | 66,970 words

What happens if one of the biggest boybands of the world suddenly strand on a lost island and there is no escape? What if Ex-lovers are left alone on this island and some deep secrets come out?

19) The Cottage | Explicit | 70,600 words

Louis hates alphas and he has good reason to, but when his beloved omega grandmother dies, and he inherits her cottage, he meets Harry, an alpha hazelnut farmer who sneaks his way into Louis’ life. While Louis struggles with his severe touch deprivation, he forms a friendship with Harry that turns out to be exactly what he needed.

20) When She Loves (The Larry Version So It's Better) | Explicit | 103,873 words

The most brutal don in the city has a weakness: me. I never wanted the life my parents tried to force on me, so I vowed I'd never marry a mobster. Yet here I am, walking down the aisle toward mobster of the century, all to save my sister. Harry Styles....

21) The Pirate's Prince | Not Rated | 110,521 words

Louis William Tomlinson, Prince of England, future Omega to the soon-to-be King of France. Sailing out to his new home, the royal ship is ambushed by pirates. At first the omega is not happy with the situation, but he soon may realise that this is exactly what he needs.

22) I Thought We Were Forever | Mature | 235,556 words

“I need time alone from you.” Louis’ heart skipped a beat. That he had not seen coming. “From me?” his voice shook. Harry nodded, another tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t understand, H.” “It’s-” “You want to go on holidays on your own or something?” frowned Louis, so very confused. A long silence settled. “Look, there’s no easy way to say this.” murmured Harry and he looked so in pain. “I like someone else. Like Like like. At least I think I do. I’m not sure. That’s why I need time alone.”

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #toop harry #larry #fic recs #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs

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butchcarmy · 5 months

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader

Chapter Rating: T (11k)

ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.

Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity

A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)

also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!

Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers.

Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.

“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”

“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully.

“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”

“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”

“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”

“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”

“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”

“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”

“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does.

“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”

“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk.

“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”

“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.

“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”

“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”

“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting.

“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”

“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them.

After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly.

The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.

Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—

“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.

“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.

“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”

“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”

“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”

“I try. What’s the occasion?”

“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”

“Oh, okay.”

…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly.

“Is it your birthday today?”

“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.

“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”

“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”

“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.

“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy.

“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”

“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”

“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”

“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” they reply quickly.

“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”

“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”

“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”

“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”

“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”

“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot.

“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?”

“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.

He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares.

He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.

He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.

He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.

. . . . .

“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”

“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”

“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”

“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”

“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”

“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”

“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly.

“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”

“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off.

“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?”

“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”

“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?”

“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about).

“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”

“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?”

“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”

“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”

“No way. I didn’t say shit.”

“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”

“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”

“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”

“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”

“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”

“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”

For some reason, that makes Richie laugh.

“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”

“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.

“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”

“Y’think so?”

“I do. You?”

“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”

“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts.

“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”

“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”

“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”

“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”

“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”

“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.

“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”

“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”

As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't.

He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.

He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.

“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly.

. . . . .

When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan.

“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.

“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.

“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”

“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”

“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”

“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him.

“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.

“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”

“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.

“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”

“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”

“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”

“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief.

“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”

“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them.

“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”

“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”

“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.

“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”

“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”

“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”

“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.

“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.”

“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”

“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters.

“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”

“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”

“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.”

He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise.

“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat.

“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”

“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”

“What? You're doing this and a cake?”

“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.

“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”

“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool.

He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.

“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”

“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven.

“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”

“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”

“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”

Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.

“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.

He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.

“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”

“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”

“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”

A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats.

It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today.

Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen.

A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them.

He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him.

This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.

He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by.

“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them.

“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.

“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”

“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”

“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”

“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”

Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.

It reminds him of himself in every way.

“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”

“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself.

“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”

“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”

“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”

“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.

“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”

“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”

“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing.

Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear.

He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.

After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out.

He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup.

“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once.

“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.

“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”

“Yeah. Where we headed first?”

They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal.

As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting.

Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid.

“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them.

“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”

“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”

“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”

He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more.

“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”

“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”

“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”

He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on.

“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face.

Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.

He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself).

Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders.

“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him.

“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him.

“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”

“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”

He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same.

They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.

“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush.

“It’s not weird?”

“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”

“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly.

“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”

“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”

“Good. You should. They fit well.”

“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face.

Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them.

“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds.

“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him.

“Carmy.” They glare at him.

“What?” He feels himself smiling.

“You can’t do this to me.”

“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”

“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”

“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”

“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”

“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”

“I’ll ask Richie.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re giving me no choice.”

“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”

“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”

“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try.

“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”

“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”

“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”

“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction.

“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.

“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it.

“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”

“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.

. . . . .

The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance.

“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”

“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.

Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.

The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away.

The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow.

You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes.

He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect.

Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.

You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.

They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.

Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.

Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.

He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault.

The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes.

This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?

There's no response. Good enough.

He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head.

“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.

“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”

“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous.

“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”

“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly.

“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”

“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly.

“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”

“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment.

“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”

“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.

“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”

Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes.

“Ready?” He asks quietly.

“I'm ready,” they whisper.

Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too.

I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.

His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear.

“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”

“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark.

He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face.

“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”

“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”

“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”

“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt.

“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”

“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.

“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable.

“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”

“Ah…” The first missing piece.

“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”

“What happened?”

“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”

Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words.

Suddenly, he thinks of Michael.

“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”

“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”

“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”

I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it.

He can't process this right now. This isn't the time.

“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”

There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went.

A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself.

“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”

“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”

“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”

“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”

“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”

“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”

“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”

“I do. Why?”

“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”

They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.

“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”

“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”

“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”

“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”

“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”

“...And that is?”

It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.

“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”

They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.

Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug.

They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do.

After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up.

“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water.

“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously.

“Better?”

“Yeah. A lot better.”

“Good.”

“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”

“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”

“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”

“I know. I get it.”

“I know you do.”

That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter.

“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”

“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”

“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—

“I found you,” they tell him.

“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words.

Me?

“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”

“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”

“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.

“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”

“Can't we both be lucky?”

“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”

“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”

“...There's no other shoe?”

“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”

“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”

“Me neither.”

“...”

“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”

“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”

Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds.

“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned.

“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”

“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”

“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”

“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”

“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”

You're my best friend.

…

I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.

He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.

“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”

“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”

“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile.

“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head.

“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses.

“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”

“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.”

“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”

Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else.

He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes.

Until them.

He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.

His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along.

And with that, something in him lets go.

Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny.

He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms.

He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore.

Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.

…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.

@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista

#carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy the bear #the bear fx #my fics #alexithymia fic #GOD. IT'S FINALLY HERE. THIS ONE'S A BEAST.#ch 6 is gonna be the climax..... it's gonna happen yall. it's finally here. hahahaha #anyway this one took so long to write because it was so revealing for me... as i'm sure yall have guessed. sigh.

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girlietips · 4 months

Text

Weekly reset day🤍🤍

I was asked to make a day in a life post. But I tend to vary my routine depending on my mood and vibe. I do have one very specific routine that I do on either Saturday and Sunday every week.

Rest routine

I usually sleep in until around 7:30-8:00 (which that sounds wild but I’m a morning person and I usually wake up at 4:30-5:00)

I do the typical hygiene stuff then I go downstairs put on a kettle for tea and chug a bunch of water with my supplements and medicine.

I then drink my tea while a write my brain dump list of all the maintenance tasks I need to do.

I then throw my bedding in the wash because it takes a while.

After that I throw on a cute workout set and go on a walk with my dog while listening to my favorite songs. Depending on my energy level it ranges from a 30 min to and 1 hour long.

When I get home I put my hair in a hair mask while I make myself breakfast and a protein shake. I try to eat very high protein and I always eat some fruit with breakfast.

I then take my everything shower and do my whole skin care routine and blow out my hair.

After I finish getting ready I then do an hour speed clean of my apartment.

I then dedicate 2 hours to completing tasks I wrote down earlier. Usually these tasks are paying bills, studying, deep cleaning things that don’t get touched during the speed clean. Stuff that hasn’t got done but needs to.

Next I go to the store and buy my weekly groceries I also will buy myself lunch as a weekly treat. I don’t eat fast food often but I set aside money for a weekly coffee shop run and a weekly lunch the rest I make myself.

Usually after I eat I like to do my hour of down time. I’ll watch tv, play the sims, or read my fun book. I try not to go on my phone and watch short form content for that long of a time usually I only go on my phone for that kinda content when I’m waiting for my food to cook.

After I eat I make sure to prep my ingredients for all my meals for the week so I do not have to think about my meals.

The rest of day depends on the week. Sometimes I go to a yoga class or go for a swim at the gym. Or sometimes I go do something with my friends.

Once I come home I immediately make a kinda big dinner (I put the rest away for lunches).

After dinner I usually take a bath and read for the rest of the night. Then I go sleep in my fresh bed.

A lot of my routines vary a lot because I find it is difficult for me to be consistent when I am really strict with my time blocks (which is why I didn’t really put time stamps) but this is all I typically do on my reset routines.

#it girl #that girl #glow up #girlblogging #self care #coquette #self love #healthy #healthyliving #becoming that girl #reset routine #sunday reset

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eyelessjackspuppyshark · 3 months

Note

Can we get some HCs about your toby? I really love your writing of him 💖

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Yes!! I love sharing my Toby headcanons! I haven’t used my Toby in so long so they may be a little rusty but I hope you like them!! I project on him a lot. I tried my best to make a pretty decent list!! Also thank you so much for loving my Toby writings!! It means so much too me!! :D

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 As a child Toby never exactly understood why his Father drank and never realized his Fathers sudden mood changed were because of alcohol.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby’s Father was a good Dad when he wasn’t drinking though when he was around the age of five his father started drinking more commonly. There’s still are times where his father doesn’t drink. This caused Toby to have a very love hate relationship with his Father, which during the hate period he feels immense guilt for it.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 The smell of beer causes Toby to slip into a panic attack.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby has an ED due to not wanting to eat when his Father was drunk. He never got help for it so he still struggles to eat properly.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 That being said, Toby does enjoys Waffles but not for the fanon reason. He enjoys them to to his Mother often making them every Sunday morning. Which him and Lyra often helped her.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby enjoyed car rides with his sister before the car crash. Though now he has panic attacks if he tries to go into a vehicle. He’d rather ride a bike or motorcycle.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 When Toby was around the age of nine his Father brought home a small cream coloured Pomeranian which they named Sassy. Toby loved that dog and spent so much time with her. He fed her liquorice and candy(Which ended up in Sassy biting his septum but he didn’t care). Unfortunately the Dog was stolen and about two weeks after they got the dog, the police showed up and took her away.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby has an obsession with Littest pet shops due to that being his and Lyra’s go to toy whenever they played together. He steals all of the kids littlest pet shops and keeps them hidden in his room. Often playing with them when he’s sad or upset. He also enjoys Webkins, and My little Pony.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 He’s a huge fan of Three Days Grace, Hollywood Undead, Linkin Park, and Get Scared. His favourite song is Home by Three Days Grace. Listens to music typically on a CD Walkman with bulky ass headphones. Toby is also a big Vinyl Record and CD collector, his collection is massive. He steals most of his stuff from the malls, and he doesn’t touch small businesses.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby is a cannibal! He will often eat his skin and flesh off his fingers, along with the inside of his cheek and his cheek gash. His cheek gash originally started as a small cut which he started gnawing on after the car crash. He also takes from Jacks stash to cook up and eat human when he’s hungry.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby smokes cigarettes due to having a pretty bad oral fixation, although most of the time he smokes cigarettes he’s stolen from others(Jeff, and Tim mainly). His favourite cigarettes are menthols because they make his throat and nose feel funny. Will not vape because he thinks the sweet flavours are fucking stupid.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Terrified to get into a relationship due to having an intense fear of turning out like his father. Sure he has flings and stuff but had never actually got into a truly romantic relationship with anyone.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby enjoys breaking his bones and is convinced that it only makes him stronger everytime he breaks them. Eyeless Jack is fed up with him.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby grows out his hair but cuts it in a wolf cut himself when it gets to long. He prefers it short but Lyra always loved when he had longer hair so he keeps it long due to that.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby is Autistic.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby was so eager to become a Proxy once he was saved, he burnt a proxy symbol into his neck as an attempt to prove himself worthy.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby often picks on anyone he deems “weaker” than him. Making snarky comments and pushing them around. Due to being bullied he became the bully instead.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby enjoys arguing. Most of the time he’ll argue with Jeff, Nina, or Ben for fun.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 He often smells like fire due to committing arson for fun. He also often smells like nature and fairly musky at times.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 His targets are often people who are genuinely disgusting humans.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby enjoys animals, his favourites are Opossums, Raccoons, and Rats. He owns six Rats.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby has Tourette’s although they’re typically worse when he’s upset or mad. His Tourette’s are mainly Motor, but he still has vocal tics.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby is German!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby is Pansexual! He doesn’t care what the gender of his partner is!

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Tobys clothes are often in more natural nature like tones. He mainly wears sweaters due to his arms being extremely scarred up from the car crash.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby unironically plays Fortnite, and COD to yell at others for fun.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby sees Tim and Brian as adoptive parents. Also Cody is his biological brother.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Isn’t the biggest fan of Eyeless Jack, he honestly thinks Jack being so adamant about checking him for wounds when he gets back is excessive and annoying. He calls Eyeless Jack “Mom” in a sarcastic way often.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Tobys best friend is Jeff despite them being complete assholes towards each other.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby is terrified of Nina but at the same time thinks she’s hot because of it.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Toby has a soft spot for children. Often playing with Sally or any other child CRP who wants to play. He doesn’t want them to feel sad or lonely.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Tobys iconic hoodie was made by Lyra who gifted to him for his seventeenth birthday.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Tobys favourite normal food is sausage, pretzels, and Onions. His favourite drink is Grape Soda, or Powerade.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 Thats all but you can find my writing info here!

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#creepypasta #crp #crp fandom #creepypasta angst #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta writing #sharkarkwrites #sharkarkanswers #toby rodgers #toby erin rogers #ticcy toby #tobias erin rogers #ticci toby #toby rogers

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ivystoryweaver · 1 year

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Decadent chapter 11

prev || Fic Masterlist || My Masterlist || next

Summary: Real communication can feel better than anything

Pairings: Miguel O'Hara from the film Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse x female reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: cursing, talking about blood consumption and stuff, not beta'd

PREVIOUSLY on Decadent...

Your heart fluttered as he possessively pulled you on top of his chest. Your cheek rested against the solid warmth of him as his muscled arms wrapped you up like a treasure.

"My girl," he sleepily mumbled, lazily running his hands over the curves of your body. "Love you."

Miguel fell asleep.

You stayed awake the rest of the night....

Dawn was breaking before your heavy eyelids began to drift closed.

Miguel had slept soundly the entire night, touching you in some form or fashion. You spent the first hour on his chest, soothed and thrilled by the steady thump pulsing underneath his massive chest.

Your arm lost all circulation, so you rolled off him, hoping not to disturb him. He was out cold, poor thing.

You were reeling. He...loved you? Would he even remember saying that in the morning?

And worse, Miguel was not doing so well. You were truly becoming desperately worried for his physical health. You couldn't fathom the strength of will and character it took for him not to bite your throat last night during your passionate interlude.

You curled up against his side, tracing your fingertips over the length of his arm, grateful to be some sort of solace for him. But there was no peace for you this night.

The next morning, he was gone. So typical.

He did, however, leave you a note. Which was lovely, actually, since he was a 'wait and see you at work' or 'maybe send a text' type of guy.

Thank you for letting me stay. I'm not feeling too well. Going home to sleep. See you at work Monday. Don't worry, I'm just tired. You were so beautiful last night. Can't wait to see you again.

Well. That was something.

So he couldn't wait to see you, but he wanted to wait til Monday at work? Today was Saturday. What in the world was he always doing on the weekends? Maybe Spider-Man-ing. You weren't entirely sure, honestly.

Maybe you could find the courage to call or text him - just to check on him. You should try to wait until tonight at least. But waiting until Monday to see him felt like absolute torture.

Whatever. No games. You made it until late afternoon in case he was sound asleep and then you texted.

'Got your note. It was sweet. I hope you feel better. Please call or come over if you need to. I'm here.'

He texted right back.

'I know you're there. My guardian angel. I was just thinking of you. I'm making empanadas.'

You huffed and fired back.

'Without me? Thannnnks, Mig.'

'Sorry, I should have said - I was making empanadas, but then I felt sick, so I stopped. But when I'm feeling better, you'll have to come over again.'

You didn't know what to say to that. He was sick? Like, really sick? Or lack-of-blood sick? Ughhh.

'I'm so worried about you. Are you sure you don't want me to come over anyway?'

He took a few minutes to answer this time, which was not reassuring.

'I don't want to hurt you.'

You swallowed hard as your eyes moistened with the beginning of tears.

'You didn't hurt me last night.'

He didn't answer for a while. Which did hurt.

But later that night, he did reply to you again.

'I feel asleep earlier. Sorry. I want to talk to you in person, but I'll be out of town tomorrow. But I promise we'll talk on Monday, okay?'

You texted back that it was fine. It felt awful. You wanted to see him. He said he loved you! Wasn't he going to mention that? Didn't he want to see you again?

You decided to stick to your don't-obsess-over-Miguel plan. You called your aunt, cooked some meals for the week, and had an impromptu hang with your neighbor/friend Gwen. You had a glass of wine and a bath Sunday evening and on Monday morning, you dressed to kill.

Miguel was waiting for you in your office, which sent a thrill of anticipation fizzing through your body.

Then you remembered what happened the last time you had sex. He promoted you, kicked you out of his office and "dumped" you.

"Hey," he breathed, pushing off your desk, where he had been leaning, scrolling through his phone. "Look at you." His scarlet eyes flashed appreciatively, tracing over the length of your body. He looked absolutely delicious as always. Today he was dressed in all black, but he did appear to be a little tired, despite how well he usually wore dark colors.

Stepping closer, he reached out for you, pulling you into his arms and brushing his thumb across your cheek before lowering his mouth to yours.

You gasped out in surprise, your knees going weak for a moment, which made him smile against your lips as he tasted them one at a time.

Your brain was slow to catch up - he had really managed to surprise you. But finally, you dropped your bag to the floor beside you and slid your hands over the breadth of his chest to link behind his neck.

He kissed you sweetly...adoringly. Without agenda. It was a kiss of relief, as if you were being cherished, rather than seduced. You melted into him, happy to allow him to wrap you up and pull you off your feet.

His warm breath mingled with yours and you felt him smile again.

"Good morning," he whispered. "I missed you."

It struck you then, that this wasn't a co-worker greeting (obviously) or a friends-with-benefits greeting. This was different. Miguel had never done this - not without it leading to clothes flying.

You rubbed your nose against his affectionately, feeling very much like a girlfriend suspended in his arms, tiptoes barely touching the ground.

"I missed you too," you admitted between soft kisses.

He finally set you down but didn't release you from his possessive hold. "Sorry I was gone yesterday. I wanted to see you. I hope it's okay that I just barged in here."

You chuckled as he finally let go of you. "It's your company. I don't think you need my permission to come into my office. I'm just glad it was for a good reason."

You eyed him warily. "You are in here for a good reason, right? I'm not being promoted to another wing of the building and banned from the lab?"

His dark eyebrows shifted almost comedically. "Banned? What are you talking about? Why would I do that?"

You should probably tread carefully, but...when had you ever?

Reaching for you bag, you grabbed it and moved around your desk to start getting organized for your day (and to give you a little space to say these things to him).

"That's what happened last time," you explained. But he still looked confused. "You know - the last time we slept together. You sort of dumped me, promoted me, gave me my own office, all while kind of insulting my work ethic and dedication? It was pretty confusing."

He slowly nodded, sliding his hands into his dress pants pockets. "Yeah. I can see that. Not my finest moment. The promotion was real though."

"Thanks?" You somewhat sarcastically replied. "Anyway," you went on, waving your hand dismissively, "When I saw you in here this morning, after what happened between us at the gala Friday night, I was sort of afraid of...another promotion."

His eyes narrowed in confusion as he took your words literally for a moment. Then you saw his expression shift as he began to understand. "You thought...no. No, I just wanted to see you, I promise."

He made his way around your desk and took hold of your arms. "I was waiting for you because, after what happened between us Friday, I was hoping..." He trailed off, scarlet eyes shifting uncertainly

"What, Miguel? What are you hoping?" You gently prodded, starting to truly believe that maybe the two of you could have a chance together. You traced your fingertips over his jawline.

Wetting his lips, he took your hand in his, tenderly caressing your fingers. "I don't deserve you. But...after the gala, I thought maybe..." He shook his head, trying to figure out how to say what he felt.

"I missed you so much and...the only time I don't feel like I'm going insane with hunger is when I'm safe with you."

You gasped out, your eyes shining with wonder.

"I know it doesn't make sense because...well, because I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you," he tried to explain. "And...I could, if I'm not careful. I really could. But it's like you're my darkest temptation. And also my greatest peace. I'm not sure what to do about that. But I can't lose you. That's the one thing I know."

You squeezed his hands right back, feeling at least somewhat reassured. "You're not going to lose me. Just don't push me away, okay?"

Miguel wasn't kidding about not feeling well. Once the two of you spent about an hour in the lab, you noticed him missing details - obvious things. He misspoke a few times, misplaced a few items and finally, just before lunch, looked like his gigantic body was about to hit the ground.

Okay, enough.

Once the other staff and personnel cleared out for a lunch break, you asked Miguel to speak privately in his office.

He sat down on the edge of his desk with his head in his hands. You stood in front of him, reaching to rub his temples with your fingertips.

"Talk to me," you softly implored. "You're scaring me."

He nodded, exhaling shakily. "Just hungry, I think. This is the worst it's ever been."

"Miguel, look at me," you directed, gently tipping his chin up so you could peer into his eyes. "This can't go on. You need some blood. You can't even function. Not in any working capacity anyway."

He shook his head adamantly. "No...I'm not going to do that to you. I told you."

"Baby, I'm not talking about biting me or hurting me - hey, look at me.” He tried to shrug you off but you pushed him back down to his spot on the desk’s edge. Even in his weakened state, he could probably overpower you, but you had to try.

"Listen...I'm standing here, in my lab coat. We're in a professional environment," you explained. "I'm not trying to tempt you here. This has nothing to do with me. Miguel, look at me, please."

He reluctantly lifted his gaze to meet yours. He looked so exhausted and broken and your heart burned with love and concern for him.

"You're a brilliant man. A scientist. A geneticist. This is science," you insisted. "You need blood to survive. You're going to get sick and maybe even die without it - "

"Not if we figure out how - "

"No! I am speaking," you fired back, silencing him with your tone and your determined glare. "I am your research partner right now - a position you promoted me to because you trust my opinions and agree with my conclusions.

"Right now, I'm not someone you come to when you need a fix or a fuck or just some comfort. I have been all of those things at one point, but I am your equal, so you have got to listen to me."

You had his attention now. Good.

"You need blood. It's not negotiable. We can do it today, right now, in the lab, clinically. It doesn't have to happen with sex, or...out on the street. No one has to die. We can draw blood and you can drink it out of a test tube or a bag or a beaker - I don't really care," You reasoned. "You don't have to bite anyone or hurt anyone. It doesn't even have to be my blood! But you have got to feed."

His head dropped in defeat.

"Miguel, tell me you understand," you insisted, reaching for his hands. “I know the blood bags don’t work as well for you, but maybe, if it’s fresh blood…”

When he peered back up at you from his stool, his crimson eyes were wet with tears. "I've gone so long without blood. I've tried so hard... Everything just hurts so fucking much, all the time. I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. I can’t concentrate. I can't think, or eat. All I do is sleep.”

"I know, baby," you nodded, pulling him into your arms. You were almost the same height with you standing in front of him like this. "It doesn't make you weak. It's not like an addiction. This is your sustenance."

"I don't want to," he weakly protested, his forehead resting against your chest. "You can't understand how much I don't want to."

"I know, but this is reality. You could die - do you understand that?"

Easing back, you grasped his shoulders, gazing at him intently. His expression was so broken, but enough was enough.

"You told me you feel safe with me...that you can't lose me, right? You just told me that in my office," you reminded him.

He reluctantly nodded, eyes full of despair.

"Do you honestly think I can lose you either? Do you have any idea what that would do to me?" You brushed your fingers through the hair that always fell carelessly across his eyes. Your own gaze flickered down to the pout of his perfect mouth and you leaned in, sealing your lips to his. You poured your soul into the passion of your kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You stepped between his spread thighs, pressing your body against the solid wall of him. He kissed you back, deeply. His massive arms wrapped you up has thick fingers gripped your hips, pulling you closer still. The thickness of his thighs caged you in - there was nothing between you not touching or desperately trying to get closer to the other.

You licked into his mouth and he moaned. He felt weak but never too much to refuse your touch. Just as his hands began to wander down to trace the swell of your bottom, you eased back.

Your breath mingled with his as he waited, unable to anticipate what you wanted, or what you would do next.

You wanted everything from him - all of him, but he needed to know this wasn't about sex or tempting him to feed. With one more soft kiss to his mouth, you reached for his face, staring deeply into his shining eyes.

“Miguel, I love you,” you tenderly whispered. You would have thought your feelings were a neon sign, but you had to make sure he understood. He could reject you, but you were really hoping he wouldn’t. Not after he murmured his love to you in your bed - not after Friday night up against that wall. And not after him telling you this morning that he couldn’t lose you.

“I love you and I can’t lose you either,” you went on, passionately. “Please…please don’t leave me. I-I can’t bear to see you hurt like this. I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you - "

“You love me?” He whispered, his eyes wide as his lungs tripped over the next few breaths he attempted to take.

“Yes,” you tearfully laughed out. “Yes, isn’t it obvious? I love you so much.”

Miguel’s eyes glistened as he touched his forehead to yours. “I wasn’t sure. I could only hope that this was more than just…” Pressing a sweet kiss to your mouth, he stopped his own rambling. “I love you too.”

Coming up: Will Miguel feed? If so, how?

And later: some universal clues start to fall into place as this story hurtles toward its end.

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use-your-telescope · 8 months

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When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 15: The Sky Turned Black

Summary: When a mission goes wrong, Theo helps Loki navigate the aftermath.

Author's Notes: Hello hello - I’m back with another chapter (and an actual header image)! Thank you to everyone who shared thoughts/theories/reactions to the last two chapters - I loved reading everyone’s perspectives! Whether or not you commented though, if you’re reading this fic, I appreciate you for giving me/this story a moment of your time. <3

A million thank-yous to @sarahscribbles and @the-lady-amphitrite for giving this chapter a read through and giving feedback <3

Next Chapter will be posted Sunday, January 28th!

Also, If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic, let me know!

Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of a bombing/attack and the destruction that follows, medical whump, and some discussions about death. I recognize that with current events, the bombing and destruction stuff might be a bit tough for folks to read - if you’re in that camp, you can skip ahead to the third chunk of the story (after ‘but this time I admit I really felt I’d start to slip’).

Word Count: 9,264

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist Song: June - Florence + the Machine

The show was ending And I had started to crack Woke up in Chicago And the sky turned black You’re so high, you’re so high You had to be an angel And I’m so high, I’m so high I can see an angel

Unbeknownst to the general public, the Avengers (and the SHIELD agents that supported their work) went on hundreds of missions a year. Missions varied in location and purpose - Budapest for an assassination, Manitowoc for reconnaissance, Madripoor for hacking, London for retrieving highly valuable artifacts - but they always contributed to the overall safety of Midgard.

As the Avengers were public figures, they often stuck to relatively short missions, or developed plans so any eagle-eyed observers, whether nefarious or benign, would not notice an extended absence. This was carefully calculated to ensure civilians would not panic about potential threats while ensuring the Avengers had intel to destroy any potential threats before they turned into reality.

As such, missions only made the news when something went horrifically awry.

Nothing about the day had been noteworthy. If anything, it was the epitome of a ‘typical’ day, at least for Loki. His morning consisted of reviewing a series of reports that Heimdall and Valkyrie sent him, detailing the economic impact of certain trade agreements that New Asgard would soon have the opportunity to renegotiate. He sparred with Barnes in the early afternoon, focusing on his dagger technique and sharing tips with the Winter Soldier. Afterward, he joined Dr. Banner in Stark’s lab to assist Banner with research on the physics of Seidr, remaining in the lab until shortly after dinner.

Banner remained in the lab when Loki excused himself, unable to ignore his rumbling stomach. Loki returned to the residential quarters, casually waving at the assortment of Avengers in the living room and receiving a collection of greetings in return as he passed them on the way to the kitchen.

In the midst of assembling a sandwich for a late dinner, the shrill voice of a reporter on the nearby television caught Loki’s attention.

“Breaking News: A bombing just outside Chicago has thrown the city into chaos–”

Chicago—

Thor was in Chicago.

Loki sprinted to the sitting room, abandoning an assortment of condiments and toppings on the counter in his rush to learn if his brother had been amidst those impacted.

He arrived to find Maximoff, Barnes, Wilson, Parker, and Belova glued to the television, eyes wide and mouths hanging slightly agape as rising flames and rubble flashed in front of them.

No one uttered a word; Hel, they barely offered Loki a wayward glance as he collapsed into an empty seat and struggled to ignore the festering unease gnawing at his chest as he too became entranced by the breaking news.

On the screen in front of them, a horrifying scene unfolded: innocent civilians, coated in ash, blood, and debris as they ran for their lives, crying out for loved ones. Individuals draped from head to toe in black firing weapons that did not look like anything the Avengers had seen before, beams of octarine light tearing through solid rock and steel like a hot knife through butter. The shrill wail of sirens clashed with the voice of the television reporter, solemn-faced as they recounted the details.

“—massacre — multiple casualties — suspected terrorist attack —“

Amidst the chaos, glimpses of the Avengers who had been sent into the field did little to quell anyone’s anxiety. Barely recognizable beneath shredded armor and the grit of war, they attempted to evacuate civilians while fighting back against the attackers.

At a brief sighting of a bloody, ragged Thor fighting off an adversary, Loki’s blood turned to ice. Of the many times Loki fought alongside Thor, he rarely, if ever his brother in such a haggard state from fighting, which elicited its own special sort of dread. What if this threat was too much for Thor to survive?

Even after confirmations that the Avengers had prevailed and the attackers were no more, breaking news alerts flashed across the bottom of the screen with headlines that only increased in severity. Emergency rescue crews struggled to control the fires that came from the explosions, dragging unrecognizable bodies from smoke-filled shells of buildings.

With shaking hands, Loki retrieved his mobile device from his pocket and dialed Thor’s telephone number.

“You’ve reached the voicemail—“

The damn thing didn’t even ring before the automated greeting began.

With a growl, Loki ended the call and threw his phone against the sofa cushion.

It was foolish to worry; Thor was a God. He was a warrior. He survived far worse than a simple Midgardian bomb. Of course Thor wouldn’t answer his mobile phone; he was in the middle of being the hero that everyone expected him to be.

And yet, with every minute that passed, with every flame that rose on the television screen, with every new death count, the coil of dread tightened in Loki’s chest.

Loki buried his face in his hands, fighting to steady his breathing.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Belova attempted to reassure Loki, though her constant glances at her own mobile device, as if checking for a response from the elder widow, did not escape him.

Any other plans for the evening had long been forgotten. Wilson and Barnes monitored government and SHIELD communication channels for updates on agents who were at the scene of the attack. Maximoff searched for additional news coverage on her laptop, while in the background survivors shakily recounted the moment that changed their lives forever. Belova and Parker took to social media to find first-hand accounts and updates from ground-level, announcing anything they found to be noteworthy.

In the midst of everything, Loki exchanged messages with Val and Heimdall. While early messages from Heimdall provided reassurance that he could still track Thor’s presence, that reassurance fell away with time; when Heimdall no longer felt Thor’s presence, the conversation changed to implementing the protocol for ruling in Thor’s unanticipated absence, incapacitation, or, though Loki prayed to the Norns it was not the case, Thor’s death.

Every once in a while, an Avenger appeared on-screen, providing at least some reassurance that perhaps circumstances were not as dire as initially thought. When the cameras focused on an area cordoned off for medical care providers to triage and transport victims, they caught sight of Theo. Though she appeared a bit weathered and her armor had torn in the fighting, Loki recognized the way she directed the staff around her from the many times he visited her while she worked.

Rogers had appeared multiple times, often carrying victims from the rubble and comforting distraught bystanders, appearing equally haggard but still maintaining a steely resolve. Civilian-recorded video of the Vision and Stark lifting up massive sections of concrete to free trapped victims quickly took over social media, subsequently appearing on the news.

At two separate points, a surge of hope stole Loki’s breath away as he thought he saw Thor, only for it to be a civilian. Belova experienced a similar sensation with potential sightings of Romanoff, though she seemed less concerned for the elder widow’s safety.

Nearly four hours after the news of the attack broke, an announcement blared through Avengers Tower, drowning out the doomsday scenario on television: “We need all available medics to report to the hangar immediately; we have a quinjet arriving in t-15 minutes with twelve level-1 trauma patients.”

I hear your heart beating in your chest The world slows ‘til there’s nothing left And skyscrapers look on like great, unblinking giants In those heavy days in June When love became an act of defiance

In the moments leading up to the quinjet’s return, the tension in the hangar could have been cut with a knife.

Through the hangar’s glass and steel door, the darkest of nights loomed. Not even the glow of lights from the city below could dispel the darkness, creating an expanse of endless obsidian sky that Loki recognized from his time in the void.

Inside the hangar, harsh fluorescent lights left nothing to the imagination, their light so bright and jarring against the black sky that Loki’s eyes burned. The stench of motor oil and gasoline filled the air, only amplifying the churning of Loki’s stomach.

Multiple stretchers waited with teams of medics at their command. Someone Loki recognized as one of Theo’s colleagues spoke on the comms with the returning jets and with the infirmary staff, alternating between briefing the medics about the patients they would receive and preparing for the influx of injuries. Despite Loki’s best attempts to glean even the smallest of details that might inform him of his brother’s condition, other conversations and background noise drowned out the doctor’s voice.

The Avengers who had not been sent to Chicago congregated in relatively close proximity, waiting with bated breath for any news of their peers. Banner, who had been in the lab until the announcement of the jet’s return, paced back and forth, glancing between the hangar entrance and the ground. Barnes stood at attention, arms crossed against his chest and fingers tapping against his vibranium bicep impatiently.

Belova leaned against a metal wall, flipping her mobile phone in hand as if it were a dagger. Parker mirrored Belova’s stance, though he placed all of his weight upon one leg, restlessly bouncing the other at a frantic pace until Loki had to look away before he snapped at the spiderling. Maximoff and Wilson distanced themselves from the group, discussing something in hushed voices while glancing back and forth between the group and the hangar’s entrance.

A familiar voice rang out through the hangar’s intercoms, abruptly stopping all conversation. “Agent Romanoff to Air Control, we are five minutes out. Are we cleared to land?”

“Air control to Agent Romanoff,” the reply came through, “Hangar door is opening now.”

The mass of steel and glass which constituted the hangar door groaned as the mechanics which propelled its movement activated. As if weighed down by the heaviness of everyone’s attention, the door slid open at a pace which made a snail seem like an olympian sprinter. The scraping of metal wheels against metal tracks echoed through the hangar.

All the while, everyone remained frozen in place; even Parker refrained from bouncing his leg. No one spoke. If it weren’t for Loki’s location, which placed the majority of the hangar’s occupants in his line of sight, he might think the hangar completely empty.

When the door finished opening, the medics sprang back to life, arranging themselves in preparation for the jet’s imminent arrival.

“Agent Romanoff to Air Control - we are in final descent. T-one minute out.”

A wave of relief collided with a storm of fear at the first glimpse of steel and turbines. Loki’s heart rate careened out of control, the pounding in his ears drowning out all sound. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and tugged at the curls, desperate for news that his brother was alright while dreading the possibility that his brother was among those who needed immediate care.

Though Romanoff landed the aircraft quickly, the exit ramp’s descent was anything but quick. The first teams of medics brought gurneys forward, but upon looking into the rear of the jet, stepped aside to clear a path. For what, Loki didn’t know, nor did he have time to inquire – the steel ramp touched down on the concrete floor, and the hangar roared into a frenzy of organized chaos.

Theo leapt off the side of the ramp to stand beside the medics, ushering another pair of medics carrying a patient on some sort of stiff board down to the first team of medics. Like Theo, the patient could barely be recognized beneath dust, ash, and blood, though their unusually large stature made Loki’s heart stutter and his breath catch in his throat. A glimpse of blond sullied with dust, ash, and blood that matted itself in long locks did nothing to ease the festering dread that had settled into Loki’s stomach.

While the medics transferred the individual onto the gurney, Loki crept closer, only to confirm his worst fear: Thor, unconscious and beaten within an inch of his life, laid before him, his fate at the mercy of mere Midgardians.

No.

“What happened?” Loki rushed forward, pushing through the medics crowding the gurney so he could get a better look at Thor. Some sort of monitoring device flashed numbers upon a screen, while the medics relayed a series of data points that made no sense to the prince and only incensed him further. “What happened to my brother?”

One medic attempted to explain as they whisked Thor out of the hangar, but none of the words registered in Loki’s mind; all he could think about was the looming threat of losing Thor, the only brother he had. They hadn’t even reached the hangar’s exit when the shrill cry of an alarm interrupted and the collection of medics, along with the gurney, jolted to an abrupt stop.

“Dr. Amaris,” one medic shouted back towards the aircraft, “Thor’s coding!”

Not understanding what the medic meant, Loki turned to the monitor for answers.

No, Thor–

All Hel broke loose.

“He’s bleeding out!”

Medics tore the remaining scraps of Thor’s armor off his body, shouting instructions at each other.

“Start compressions!”

“What is happening?” Loki snarled. They ignored him, instead applying pressure to wounds and repeatedly pressing on Thor’s chest as they continued shouting commands among each other. “I demand you tell me what is happening!”

It was as if Loki was not even there; no one even acknowledged his presence. One medic glanced past Loki and towards the aircraft, calling out a series of terms that Allspeak could not translate.

“Please–” Loki pleaded, desperate for any answer he could receive, “This is my brother—”

“Out of my way!”

The command boomed through the hangar, barely reaching Loki’s ears before someone shoved him aside and leapt onto the stretcher. They straddled Thor as if it were second nature, seamlessly transitioning into pressing on his chest while barking orders at the individuals around them.

Loki stumbled, caught off guard by the strength of the shove - never had a Midgardian managed to move him with such ease. The stretcher raced towards the infirmary before Loki could regain his footing, though he gave chase and quickly caught up to the entourage of medics surrounding his brother while they waited for the elevator. As he arrived, he realized just who happened to shove him aside as if it were child’s play:

Theo.

Black tendrils of smoke surrounded her blue-gloved hands and trailed up her forearms, forming runes that floated just above her skin. She continued to instruct the other medics, her focus razor-sharp as the runes moved down her arms and enveloped Thor.

“What is wrong with my brother?” Loki demanded once more. His frustration at the lack of acknowledgement intertwined with his desperation and fear at the grievous state his brother returned in, fueling Loki’s ire until he teetered dangerously on the edge of explosion.

“Loki, your brother has some pretty serious injuries,” Theo calmly replied, glancing at the monitor as she continued her work. “We’re taking care of it though - I’ll fill you in later, but right now I need to focus on Thor!”

The lack of panic in Theo’s response only further incensed Loki. Did she not care about Thor’s well-being? Did she not realize who it was that needed care? This was no Midgardian - this was Thor. Thor, the King of Asgard. God of Thunder!

And yet, she treated him like any other patient.

“You act like he’s a simple Midgardian!” Loki bellowed, the torrent of fear and anger unleashing itself upon anyone and everyone around him.” You know nothing of how to heal the Aesir— he will die at your hand!”

“Rather than argue, I’m just going to prove you wrong.” Despite her infuriatingly calm tone, Theo leveled a blistering glare at the younger Asgardian. What were previously the whites of Theo’s eyes had turned pitch black, her irises white and her pupils a pale, smoky gray. “He’s not dying at anyone’s hand today - especially not mine. Now, please be quiet and let me do my job.”

Loki froze, stunned. No one had ever had the audacity to speak to him in such a way - and yet, she didn’t even think twice.

Theo didn’t notice Loki’s surprise - she continued to direct the other medics before returning her attention to the God of Thunder. Theo recited an incantation under her breath, causing the runes trailed into Thor’s open mouth and down his throat. Once Theo uttered the final words, a flash of light shot from Theo’s hands and into Thor’s chest.

With a jolt, Thor’s chest shot up and he gasped for air; his chest rose and fell, and the monitor ceased to scream.

Thor’s revival brought Loki no relief, however - the possibility of needing further revival ensured Loki remained just as on-edge, even as they descended upon the elevator, then careened down the halls in a mad dash to the infirmary.

Just before Loki could follow his brother into the Emergency ward, someone restrained him with an iron-clad grip and dragged him back towards the waiting room.

“Unhand me!” Loki roared, whipping around to find Sergeant Barnes had taken hold of him. “I need to be with my brother!”

With a growl, Loki attempted to free himself from Barnes’ grasp, but against the vibranium arm it was useless.

“They don’t have room for you back there.” Barnes’ flat affect, combined with the infuriatingly stoic expression he wore, only served to further flare Loki’s temper. “You’re only going to make it harder for them to work.”

“They know nothing of the care an Aesir requires!” Loki spat his protest at Barnes, who didn’t even flinch.

“I’m pretty sure they do, given Theo just saved your brother’s life.” The Winter Soldier arched one eyebrow at the Asgardian in a subtle challenge. “If you get in their way, a lot of other people might be losing their brother or sister.”

Loki clenched his jaw, scowling as he once again attempted to wrestle himself free from the Sergeant’s inescapable grip.

“I get it.” Barnes continued to stare at Loki with such unwavering intensity that made Loki’s skin crawl. “I lose my shit when Steve gets hurt too.”

“You truly believe your friendship with the captain is remotely close to that of a brother?” Incensed by the thought of comparing Thor to a simple friend, Loki sneered. “You could never understand.”

“Steve may not be my brother in blood, but he is in every way that matters. Just like you and Thor.” Barnes replied, ice-blue eyes locking onto Loki’s. “When no one else believed in me, Steve did. When everyone was convinced that I was nothing more than a monster, that I was past redemption, Steve still saw the good in me and he fought for me. Everyone else we grew up with, our real families - they’re all dead. The world we knew is a distant memory. Steve is the only person I have left. No one else has been through what we’ve been through; no one else understands what it’s like to suddenly wake up and everything has changed.”

There was a certain vulnerability in Barnes’ eyes that Loki hadn’t ever seen before, and a conviction in his voice that Loki had only heard a handful of times. The combination proved to be enough to disarm Loki’s most barbed retorts, allowing the Sergeant to continue:

“Thor always believed in you and always saw the good in you, even when you didn’t see it yourself. Your entire realm was destroyed, your family is gone, and no one else lived through being Asgardian royalty - Thor is all you have left, and he’s the only one who understands.” Barnes let out a tense breath, still locked into Loki’s gaze as he released Loki from his grasp. “I get it.”

All the while, the stream of medics and stretchers heading into the emergency department remained steady, validating Barnes’ previous argument: there would not be room in the ward for Loki to accompany his brother.

“Theo’s good at what she does. Dr. Cho and Dr. Harper are world-renowned. They will make sure Thor’s just fine.” Barnes slapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder, to which Loki flinched. “Let them do their thing.”

Begrudgingly, Loki nodded and let out a sigh, running one hand through his hair and then tugging on the ends.

“I suppose you are correct.”

“I know I am.” Barnes smirked; the urge to remove the smirk from Barnes’ face struck with such intensity that Loki barely managed to restrain himself. “And Loki?”

“What?” The snippy tone was all too obvious.

“You should probably apologize to Theo for what you said…” When Loki’s response was a sour glare, Barnes steeled himself and locked eyes with the Asgardian yet again, undeterred. “She’s your friend and she saved your brother's life. Even if she wasn’t your friend, that was a shitty thing to say to someone who was helping. Swallow your pride.”

With that, Barnes departed, and left Loki with nothing but his spiraling thoughts as he waited for any scrap of news regarding his brother’s wellbeing.

You were broken hearted And the world was too And I was beginning to lose my grip And I have always held it loosely, But this time I admit I really felt I’d start to slip

The Emergency Department may as well have been ransacked.

Wrappers for medical supplies, towels stained a deep crimson, discarded gloves, and protective gear covered the once-charcoal floor. With such a high volume of patients, they didn’t even have time to properly dispose of their protective gear in a bin, too-focused on putting on fresh gloves and gowns to ensure they could keep up with the relentless stream of victims needing care. Theo lifted up one foot, cringing as the sole of her shoe stuck to the floor from the residue of congealing blood.

She would have to bake the janitorial staff a cake as a thank-you for cleaning up after such a busy day.

Glancing at the clock, Theo let out a heavy sigh.

11:37 PM.

Twenty-nine hours earlier, a deafening crash rang out amidst the skyscrapers of Chicago, and with it the city turned into something from Theo’s worst fears. What was meant to be a simple reconnaissance mission turned into fighting off an attack from insurgents that made Theo’s hair stand on the back of her neck. She didn’t recognize the attackers because of their masks and outfits of all-black, but the artillery they brought with them seemed unnervingly familiar.

The hour that followed was a waking nightmare spent evacuating innocent people while fighting off the mystery attackers. For the three hours after, Theo worked alongside rescue crews to enact mass-casualty protocols, her heart breaking all over again with every black tag she had to assign to a victim. Theo may have been a powerful healer, but it would have been impossible for her to save everyone; instead, she had to conserve her energy for absolute emergencies.

Though she had every intent of remaining on-scene to continue rescue efforts, SHIELD had other ideas. In order to allow all of Chicago’s medical resources to be diverted towards caring for victims of the blast, SHIELD would transport all injured agents back to New York for care at Avengers’ tower, starting with the most severely injured, which meant Theo would be needed at the hospital in New York.

She returned to New York with the first jet, scrambling alongside SHIELD medics to keep the nearly twenty injured agents on the jet alive and stable until they had reinforcements.

From the time Theo landed to when she took in the aftermath, twenty five hours had passed. Multiple jets followed the first, each with more patients who needed a level of care that couldn’t be found in other hospitals. Those twenty five hours passed in a blur of organized chaos: triage, treat, send off to surgery or a ward depending on the injuries, rinse and repeat. Theo barely had time to clean herself up enough that she wouldn’t be considered an infection risk from the ash and dust that had practically become a second skin.

In what both Helen and Julie described as a miracle, all of the patients who hadn’t died before arriving in New York survived. It wasn’t a miracle, though; Theo spent the entire time darting between gurneys, magically treating the worst of the wounds and reviving patients as needed. She had to revive three separate agents, which left her with a bloody nose, a throbbing headache, sore muscles, and more nauseous than she cared to admit - but everyone lived, and that was what mattered.

Of the many patients Theo treated upon landing, one lurked in the back of her mind: Thor. Physically, the process of re-starting Thor’s heart was taxing, but not as bad as a full revival. Mentally, it was one of the less pleasant moments. However, the memory that lingered was less about reviving Thor and more about Loki’s remark as she worked on Thor that twisted her stomach into knots: “You act like he’s a simple Midgardian! You know nothing of how to heal the Aesir— he will die at your hand!”

The statement could easily be attributed to the heat of the moment, but that didn’t make it sting any less. If it was a field agent that she didn’t know who was freaking out about their partner, that was one thing - she could shake that off, and she had plenty of times before.

But Loki?

Loki knew about her fears and how much losing a patient impacted her, even if she didn’t know the patient before. And to have him question — no, not question, outright doubt — her capabilities?

Well, his words cut far deeper and were much harder to shake.

When the final patient was stabilized and transferred out of the emergency department, Theo was the only doctor who didn’t immediately change out of her scrubs and go home to sleep. Not that she wasn’t looking forward to burying herself under a mountain of blankets and sleeping for the next two days, because she was. But she knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t be able to rest without checking on Thor first.

Maybe she was after the reassurance that Thor was, in fact, recovering. Maybe she just needed to end the night by coming full-circle, checking on the first patient she took care of. Why she needed to check on him wasn't important; as long as she knew he was alright, that was what mattered.

Theo slipped through the halls of the hospital, making her way to Thor’s room. Unlike the emergency department, which constantly bustled with people coming and going, the halls of the ward were almost eerily quiet. After the bustle and chaos of the last 24 hours, the quiet and relative peace was refreshing.

Other than a nurse sitting at the nurse’s station in Thor’s unit, Theo didn’t run into a single person. That was probably for the best, because Theo could guarantee that she looked like a mess. The nurse offered a tired smile and nod, to which Theo nodded back. The nurse pointedly glanced at an open door a bit further down the hall, then nodded again. Following the nurse’s gaze, Theo realized the nurse had been pointing her to Thor’s room.

Theo gave the nurse another smile and nod, then closed the remaining distance to the open door. She stopped in the entrance and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight before her.

The bed had been tilted up at the waist, giving Theo a better view of Thor, who slept peacefully… At least, as peacefully as someone could sleep after nearly dying. Freshly washed golden blonde locks fanned out across his pillow. His skin already regained a somewhat healthy flush - probably something to do with the enhanced healing of the Aesir, but as one of the first patients treated, he had a bit of a head start on the whole recovery thing.

Though he slept, Thor had a visitor who wasn’t Theo. Despite sitting with their back to the door, the perfectly erect posture and inky curls could have only belonged to one person: Loki.

Loki’s presence nearly made Theo turn on her heel and high-tail it out of there. She just stopped in to check on Thor; facing Loki was something she wasn’t sure she could handle at the moment. With how tired she was, Theo didn’t trust herself to avoid saying something that would make an already awkward situation worse. Loki needed someone to support him, not someone to piss him off.

“You need not lurk in the entrance,” Loki spoke up, not even turning around to look at Theo as he addressed her. “If you wish to enter, do so.”

Whether he knew it was Theo or not was a mystery, but he must have at least sensed someone’s presence. Regardless, it wasn’t like she could sneak away anymore.

Pushing away from the doorframe, Theo sighed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude.” She hesitantly stepped into the room, but stayed close to the door. If the conversation went south, she’d at least have a quick out. “I just finished working, so I thought I’d see how Thor was doing…You know, make sure he was still alive and all… Still Aesir, not a midgardian zombie or something.”

Damn her lack of filter.

A breathless puff of laughter escaped Loki, sounding almost surprised. Before Theo could turn and run, Loki twisted in his seat to face her, his narrowed eyes trailing up and down her body. His expression gave away no clues as to whether he was laughing because he found her comment amusing or because he was shocked she had the guts to speak to him like that, or anything to tell her where his mind was at.

“He remains alive and Aesir,” Loki finally replied, offering a tired smirk. “Though you, mortal, look a bit too close to a zombie for comfort.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but cracked a smile. She should have known something like that was coming. Beyond having bags under her bloodshot eyes and the inevitable loss of color in her skin from the revivals, Theo was almost positive her hair resembled a rat’s nest… But that was typical after a normal shift in the emergency department. After 24 hours straight, not to mention coming from a literal battle ground, she could only imagine what she must have looked like.

“We just finished triaging and stabilizing everyone…” Theo shrugged, keeping her smile from Loki’s observation. “It's not for the faint of heart.”

“No, but you are nowhere near faint of heart,” Loki murmured, offering a small, hesitant smile of his own. “For that, I am grateful.”

Theo nodded, uncertain of how to take his remark. She shoved her hands in her pockets, glancing around the rest of the room. Assorted bouquets of flowers and cards stood on display, covering the majority of the room’s surfaces. The whirring and beeping of monitors and machines filled the silence between them.

“Thank you for caring for my brother.” Loki’s attention returned to Thor, who still slept. “I apologize for my remarks earlier - I let my emotions overtake me. It was inappropriate for me to speak to you in such a harsh manner.”

The simple fact that she didn’t have to prompt him for the apology made it seem genuine, but the underlying distrust remained hard for Theo to shake. After all, wasn’t there something about how the things people say in the heat of the moment are what they feel deep down?

“It’s no problem,” Theo bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at Thor before returning her attention to Loki. “Sorry for my less than professional response… I uh, get a bit intense in the heat of the moment.”

“You need not apologize - your reaction was justified.” Loki nodded, still focused on his brother’s face. “I trust you with my life, and I do not doubt in the slightest that you would fight tirelessly to save any life you could…” He faltered, drawing in a sharp breath before letting out a weary sigh. “If I am entirely honest, I am not certain as to why I stated you would not be able to care for Thor, as I know better.”

The knot in Theo’s chest unraveled a bit more.

“I get it,” Theo reassured him, stepping closer so she could rest one hand on his shoulder. “Thor’s your brother. If I were in your position, I’d do the same.”

Loki covered her hand with his own, finally meeting Theo’s gaze. Red rimmed his eyes, making his seaglass green irises stand out even more than usual; combined with his disheveled curls, Theo realized that this was the most distressed that she had ever seen Loki before.

“He’ll be alright,” Theo murmured, squeezing Loki’s shoulder, “And he’s lucky to have a brother who cares as much about him as you do.”

Theo caught the slightest quiver in Loki’s lip and the way his eyes briefly glistened, but she didn’t say anything. Frankly, she didn’t know what she would even say. Blood never scared her, but the second someone she knew started crying her heart hammered in her chest and her palms grew clammy; forget trying to carry a train of thought, much less a conversation.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He tightened his grip on Theo’s hand, pressing it more firmly onto his shoulder.

With a quiet sigh, Theo shifted her weight between her aching feet once more. No longer running all over and fueled by adrenaline, the physical toll of going at full speed for so long started to make their presence known.

Still, she didn’t try to remove her hand from Loki’s shoulder. Loki obviously needed the support, and he didn’t seem like he was about to ask for it. Besides, if her silent gesture stopped any potential tears, she could handle the aching feet that came with standing.

“You mentioned that you recently finished stabilizing the other agents…” Loki’s brows drew together as he returned his attention to Theo. “It has been over twenty four hours since they returned. Have you taken any breaks to rest, or to eat?”

“I worked straight through.” Theo shook her head. “We had lives to save. That’s the nature of what we do; it doesn’t wait for anyone’s lunch break to finish.”

Loki replied with a displeased hum and a frown. He removed his hand from Theo’s, the cold air in the room a crisp contrast to the warmth of his skin. With a flick of his wrist, he used some seidr to move one of the chairs from the other side of the bed to sit beside him. “You ought to take a seat - you’ve certainly earned the opportunity to rest.”

With a timid, grateful smile, Theo sat down. Relaxing her muscles brought instant relief, though the motion reminded her of how much her entire body ached after reviving people.

“How are the other agents?”

“Barring any complications, they’ll be alright,” Theo slouched back in the chair, arms resting on the sides as she settled in. “Recovery times will vary, but the fact we were able to save everyone who made it back to New York is a miracle in and of itself.”

If there were complications, well… Theo lived in the building. They knew where to find her.

“That is excellent news,” Loki remarked, resting his hand atop Theo’s as it sat on the arm of the chair between them. Though Theo did her best not to acknowledge the gesture, it certainly caught her attention. “You seem truly exhausted.”

“When you’re running on adrenaline, it’s easy to go for a long time and feel totally fine,” she shrugged, “but now all the adrenaline is wearing off and I’m definitely feeling the consequences.”

“The consequences?”

“Fatigue, sore muscles, all that good stuff.” Theo softened the remark with a hint of a smile. Loki already had Thor to focus on; he didn’t need to hear Theo complain. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m used to working long stretches - normally my shifts are twelve-plus hours at a time. The only time I work twenty four hour shifts are when I’m on call, and I usually get to nap somewhere in there. But with the number of SHIELD agents impacted and the volume of casualties, we needed all hands on deck.”

“Seems it was quite the undertaking,” Loki murmured.

“Yeah — By the time we were done it looked like a tornado came through and destroyed everything. I can’t imagine what the hospitals in Chicago are dealing with right now.”

Loki arched an eyebrow at her as if asking her to elaborate.

“Up until I had to come back to New York, I was working with rescue crews to implement mass casualty protocols; essentially, we search through the rubble for people, triage to get a sense of how badly they are injured, then assign a colored tag based on how severely they are injured.” Theo let out a tense breath. She looked down at the floor, lowering her voice when she continued: “I’ve never triaged so many patients in such a short period of time, and they still had so much work to do when I left. The hospitals there are probably still drowning with patients, despite all the black tags.”

“… Black tags?”

“Victims who were dead or were about to die, regardless of medical intervention,” Theo quietly explained. “I gave twenty two people black tags today, and not all of them were dead on discovery.” Admitting the truth aloud made Theo want to vomit. “Making that call never gets easier.”

If anything, it only got harder to make that call.

With an absentminded hum, Loki nodded. He brought his attention back to Thor, who slept soundly. “Will you have time to rest and recuperate before your next shift?”

“I’m supposed to have the next two days off,” Theo answered with a halfhearted shrug, the black tags still lurking in her mind. “but if I’m needed I’ll be in to help.”

Loki frowned, narrowing his eyes at Theo.

“What?”

“You spend all your time caring for others,” Loki observed, “Yet caring for yourself seems to be an afterthought.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.” Theo rolled her eyes, but forced a half-smile. “I just need a nap and I’ll be good to go.”

It wasn’t entirely true. If Theo didn’t need to use any more magic, she’d technically be fine, despite a headache and some queasiness that would probably last for a few days. For the moment, though, the explanation would suffice.

Besides, aleve and pepto bismol were available on Earth, so she could always resort to pharmacological solutions to keep her going.

Though he responded with a skeptical glance, Loki didn’t push the subject. His hand remained atop Theo’s, but he slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed.

“What about you?” Theo glanced up at Loki. “I’m guessing you haven’t left that chair since you were allowed to see him?”

“Guilty as charged, I suppose.” Loki’s head wobbled slightly from side to side, but he didn’t look at Theo.

“There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” Theo squeezed his hand back, holding it tight for just a moment longer. “He’s your brother - it’s normal to want to be here.”

“I suppose it depends on who you ask,” Loki muttered, letting go of Theo to scrub his face with both hands. “There are those—“

“The only person whose opinion matters is you.” Theo gently interrupted, ducking her head to lock eyes with Loki. “At the end of the day, it’s your brother—“

“That is not how one operates when responsible for a nation and its people.” The interruption was sharp, almost irascible. As if to emphasize his irritation, he dropped his arms to rest on the sides of the chair and threw his head back towards the ceiling. “One’s personal desires are of negligible importance in the grand scheme of the realms.”

Oh, he did not just go there.

Theo bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard that the sharp tang of iron filled her mouth, and it was all she could do so she wouldn’t say something she would later regret.

In Loki’s defense, he had no idea why that remark would rub her the wrong way, and he was obviously stressed.

“Just because you are a ruler does not mean you have to sacrifice your emotions,” Theo quietly challenged, wringing her hands in her lap. “There are many who would argue that feeling and acknowledging those emotions makes you a better leader.”

Loki fell silent, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. The tendons along his clenched jaw shifted as if trying not to unleash a flurry of barbed words on Theo. If Theo was lucky, Loki was simply working through how he wanted to reply, but the slight narrowing of his eyes as he kept his attention facing ahead did little to reassure Theo that he wasn’t about to verbally eviscerate her.

After a prolonged pause, he let out a tense breath and ran one hand through his hair. He leaned forward in his seat, taking hold of Thor’s hand.

“From previous experience, sentiment has only led to suffering.” The concession was hushed, barely audible amongst the background noise.

“And yet, you still care. That’s worth something.” Theo pointed out, attention trained on Loki. “From experience, it only hurts worse if you try to ignore it.”

He pointedly avoided her gaze, instead focusing on Thor’s hand, the tan skin contrasting against his own. He brushed a thumb against the back of Thor’s hand, a delicate gesture in contrast to his hardened expression.

As silence stretched between them once more, questions of whether Theo pushed too hard swirled in her mind. Who was she, after all, to make him confront such a sore subject? Sure, it started with an attempt to reassure him, but it went south embarrassingly fast.

Theo really needed to learn when to shut the hell up.

This time, it was too late to shut up, so that led to a new series of questions: would it be awkward if she left? Or was it more awkward if she stayed?

Theo brought her attention to her sneakers, noticing the scuffs along the once crisp white soles. Flexing her toes back and forth, she watched how the scuffs bent with each movement of her foot. The longer she watched, the more meditative the motions felt, allowing her mind to fall somewhat quiet.

“Forgive me. I should not have snapped at you.” Loki broke the silence, startling Theo so she jumped in her seat and jerked her head towards Loki. He regarded her with a sheepish curl on one side of his lips, somewhere between apologetic and amused.

A sharp throb between Theo’s temples, the consequence of moving so quickly, forced a wince from her. She grimaced, massaging her temples in a feeble attempt to lessen the discomfort.

“Sorry,” Theo countered, her voice straining ever-so-slightly with each pulse against her skull. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“Ah, I beg to differ.” Loki chuckled, almost to himself. The smile that had initially started as sheepish curled up further, taking on a glint of something else that Theo couldn’t quite describe. “If left unchallenged, who knows what chaos might ensue.”

Despite the headache, Theo managed a weak chuckle and nodded. The movement left her oddly unsteady; she closed her eyes and waited for the sensation to pass.

Lightly calloused fingers curled around Theo’s wrists, gently tugging her hands away from her head. Theo opened her eyes to find the smile had fallen from Loki’s face, replaced instead by a furrowed brow and a frown. “You’ve a headache?”

“Yeah,” Theo admitted, before quickly adding: “It’s not that bad though. I have stuff for it, I just need to take it.”

Loki released Theo’s wrists; Theo found herself missing the warmth. “Though I will admit it is nice to have company, you really ought to take some medicine for your head and rest.”

He was right, but it also felt wrong to leave him alone.

Theo sighed. “You should get some rest too, you know.”

“I doubt I could sleep, even if I were to lay down.” Loki shook his head. “If Thor were to need anything and I wasn’t there, I–”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to justify it to me.” Theo cut him off, though not unkindly. She rose to her feet, pausing to blink away the static that clouded her vision from the head rush that followed. “Text me if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s at a weird time.”

To Theo’s surprise, Loki also stood; he closed the distance between her and embraced her, clutching her to his chest. She didn’t have to think twice before wrapping her arms around him, returning the gesture.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, his breath warm against the top of Theo’s head.

“Of course,” Theo replied, her voice muffled by his chest. She inhaled and caught the familiar scent of his cologne - warm, spicy, woodsy - and smiled. That smile stayed when they both finally pulled away, hands brushing as they lowered their arms; a nervous chuckle slipped out of Loki, and if Theo didn’t know any better she would have thought his cheeks grew pink.

“Good night, Theo.” Loki lingered for a moment, gazing at Theo with a shy smile.

“Good night, Loki.”

The halls of the hospital were emptier than a ghost town as Theo made the trip back to her suite; the chill of the filtered air clung to Theo’s skin, even through her clothes. Theo shivered, her muscles aching with each tremor of her limbs. She folded her arms across her chest and tried to ignore it, but she wasn’t warm like Loki, so it did little to ward off the cold.

When she finally got back to her suite and climbed into bed, the space beside her felt especially empty. But after such a long day, the observation was fleeting; she barely closed her eyes before she was already drifting to sleep.

Choirs sang in the street And I would come to you To watch the television screen In your hotel room I’m always down to hide with you

Though years had passed since Loki made Midgard his home, there were elements he had not grown accustomed to… Chief among them were Midgardian healing methods.

Ever since Thor returned to him bruised and bloodied, Loki found himself thinking back to Eir and missing the Soul Forges of Asgard. Asgardian healing was without a doubt far superior to anything the Midgardians could muster. The longer Loki stared at the tubes and wires attached to his brother’s body, the more he considered the possibility that it might have been for the best if he had conquered Midgard all those years ago, if for no other reason than it would have resulted in Soul Forges on Midgard.

Sure, Thor had made considerable progress while infirmed; if the doctors were to be believed, Thor’s injuries were healing nicely.

That didn’t mean Loki had to like seeing his brother in an infirmary bed for days on end. On the contrary: the sight grated him like none other. Sitting in a stiff, metal-framed chair day in and day out, only able to offer meager comforts to his brother, was its own kind of Hel.

And to see Thor - Thor, who was always the stronger brother, the protector, the warrior - to see him reduced to being weak as a kitten?

The more Loki considered the reality of the situation, the more his blood boiled.

However, each time his temper neared a breaking point - when he was about to snarl at the slightest inconvenience, Theo just happened to appear. She always claimed she was simply ‘dropping by to see how the patient was doing,’ but the knowing glance shared between the nurses whenever she arrived told Loki there was more to the story.

Regardless, she was there, and her mere presence stilled the constant storms brewing in his soul.

Sometimes she calmed the tempest by answering Loki’s burning questions - why certain treatments were more effective than others, the purpose of various tests, what the results of those tests meant. It was not that the doctors in charge of Thor’s care withheld information; they were quite forthcoming with Loki and seemed more than willing to answer his questions. Loki recognized they truly put forth their best efforts to assuage his concerns, and though it was not always effective he appreciated the effort. However, for whatever reason Theo’s answers contained some unknown element that put Loki at ease, even if they were almost identical to the answers from Thor’s doctors.

Other times, she offered a distraction from the discord brewing within. On the days when she visited after concluding her work in the infirmary, the distraction typically came in the form of a film or television show. Though the shows and films varied in genre and premise, there were elements in common: they all involved some element of comedy and varying degrees of mischief. Whenever she suggested something to watch, Theo always took time to explain what it was about the selection that she thought the brothers would enjoy, though it did not escape Loki’s observation that there were always details which she felt Loki specifically would enjoy.

Thankfully, the end of the nightmare was near. Though not fully recovered, Thor had been cleared for discharge that afternoon - his condition no longer required care from the infirmary, so there was no reason for him to remain.

While Thor changed out of his pajamas and into comfortable clothes, Loki busied himself collecting the various gifts and belongings that had accumulated throughout his brothers’ stay.

“It was quite kind of Lady Theo to visit so often.”

Loki glanced over at his brother. Thor sat on the edge of the bed, watching his brother with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Yet, I suspect her visits were not solely to check on my progress.” The comment was lighthearted, jesting in its delivery.

“There is a Midgardian saying about assumptions, brother.” Loki flatly replied, turning back to continue packing so Thor would not see the heat rising on Loki’s cheeks. “I would not dare to presume her intentions.”

“I am not assuming anything, dear brother. Simply pondering…” Loki did not need to look to know Thor wore a smug grin.

“Pondering, are you?” Loki turned back to his brother with a smirk of his own. “Are you certain you are well? You aren’t one to spend much time thinking.”

Thor laughed, tossing a pillow at Loki. Loki smacked it down to the floor, his own laughter echoing in the room. The sound of Thor’s laughter loosened the knot that had tangled itself around Loki’s chest for far too long.

“Well I’ve not had much else to do as of late,” Thor chuckled, “as I’m sure you are aware.”

“Well, thank the Norns you will no longer be cooped up in this room—” Loki’s laughter quieted, though a smile remained. “— If for no other reason than you shan’t be forced to think; that is a benefit to us all.”

“Ah, you’ve wounded me!” Thor clasped one hand to his heart, feigning hurt despite the grin that lit up his face.

Loki’s teasing seemed to be enough to deter further conversation on the matter, at least for the moment. With perfect timing, a nurse came by with the paperwork Thor needed to sign, and after a few signatures the pair were finally free to leave.

Just when the elevator closed, Thor turned to his brother with a pensive smile. “Jesting aside, I am glad you have someone like Lady Theo in your life.”

“Thor–”

“It is obvious that she truly cares for you.” Thor rested his hand on Loki’s shoulder and locked eyes with his brother. “Knowing there is another who will be there for you whenever you need gives me great peace. She is a good friend to you.”

A faint smile crept up on Loki’s face, and he nodded slightly. “She is.”

Not long after ensuring Thor was settled in his quarters, Loki returned to his own quarters, content to spend some time basking in the peace and quiet with his latest selection of literature...

…At least, he had been content to bask in the peace and quiet until a knock on his door threatened the solitude he’d long been craving.

Internally groaning, Loki set aside his book and pulled himself to his feet. Despite the overwhelming desire to ignore whoever dared to disturb him, Loki dragged himself to the door, rolling his eyes before twisting the knob and pushing it open.

The sight of Theo, a slim glass bottle with amber liquid in one hand and two lowball glasses in the other, wiped the scowl right off Loki’s face.

“Is this a bad time?” Theo asked, the smile on her face dissolving when she caught Loki’s expression.

“There is never a bad time for you, darling.” Loki stepped aside and gestured for her to enter.

“Good, because I am not about to drink this whole bottle myself.” Theo sauntered in, plopped down on the sofa, and poured two glasses of what smelled like whiskey. “Figured you’d want to celebrate having Thor home.”

Warmth bloomed in Loki’s chest. He took a seat next to Theo, retrieving one of the glasses and clinking it with hers. “I most certainly am not sad about the development.”

“I can tell.” Theo leaned back, taking a sip of her beverage. “You look way less stressed.”

“Is that so?”

“Well yeah,” she said, “but it’s understandable that you were stressed. I mean, now that he’s doing better, I will admit your brother did get pretty fucked up. But still, I wasn’t worried about him...”

“…You were worried about me?” Loki ventured, unable to stop himself from smirking at Theo.

She blushed. “I mean…“

Loki couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the sight of Theo, attempting to hide the pink of her cheeks behind her glass. “So you weren’t visiting to check on Thor.”

“No…” She shook her head and let out a sheepish laugh. “Thor already had plenty of people checking on him, but you needed someone in your corner too.” Theo fiddled with the glass in her hands, her attention focused on the amber liquid swirling around inside. “I didn’t like the thought of you trying to deal with all that on your own.”

When Theo finally looked at Loki, he saw something new in her bright blue eyes.

“I am grateful for your support.” He slid over until the sides of their legs pressed together, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Though I must apologize for forcing you to spend the little free time you had fretting over me.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything.” Theo fiercely shook her head. “I wanted to be there.”

And whether or not he was ready to admit it out loud, he could at least admit to himself that he wanted her there, too.

Hold onto each other Hold onto each other Hold onto each other Hold onto each other…

29 notes · View notes

got-into-worm-by-mistake · 3 months

Text

Gestation 1.3 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

My training schedule consisted of running every morning and every other afternoon. In the process, I had picked up a pretty good knowledge of the east side of the city. Growing up in Brockton Bay, my parents had told me stuff like “stick to the Boardwalk”. Even on my runs, I had scrupulously stayed on the Boardwalk and avoided the bad part of town. Now it was Sunday night and I was in costume and breaking the rules.

Running off the boardwalk in the middle of the night in costume looking for crime to fight feels like the least of your rulebreaking, Taylor.

Just moving from one block to the next, you could see the change in the area. As I made my way into the Docks, I could see the quality of my surroundings decline steeply. There were enough warehouses and apartments in the area for even the most destitute to find shelter, so the only people on the streets were unconscious drunks, whores and gang members. I steered clear of any and all people I saw and ventured further into the area.

I always love it in stories where the setting becomes a character, and from what I hear, that's definitely going to be the case for the city of Brockton Bay.

Anyone paying attention to the local cockroach population might think something was up,

That, I think, would be a list that would include exactly zero people at this point. Even exterminators wouldn't be 'paying attention' to the cockroach population, per se.

I knew who these guys were. They were members from the local gang that left the tags ‘Azn Bad Boys’, ABB for short, all over the East end of the city. More than a few went to my school. As far as the criminal element in Brockton Bay went, they weren’t small potatoes. While the typical gang members were just Koreans, Japanese, Vietnamese and Chinese forcibly recruited from Brockton Bay’s high schools and lower class neighborhoods, the gang was led by a couple of people with powers. Gangs didn’t tend to be that racially inclusive as far as who joined, so it said something that their leader had the ability to draw in members from so many different nationalities and keep them in line.

Ah yes, the ABB. One of the parts of Worm that I gather ages poorly, and may not have been all that well thought out. But that's hardly surprising, nor a black mark against Wildbow or Worm.

As for it being so ethnically diverse, I'd say that has as much to do with how everyone is grouped together under the 'Asian' heading here in the US, rather than Lung being particularly open-minded. Though I could be wrong.

He went by ‘Lung’, had successfully gone toe to toe with whole teams of heroes and had managed to keep himself out of jail, as evidenced by his presence here. As for his powers, I only knew what I could scrounge up online, and there were no guarantees there. I mean, for all I knew, he could have misled people about what his powers did, he could have a power he was keeping up his sleeve for an emergency, or he could even have a very subtle power that people couldn’t see at work.

Another cool choice, especially given what I gather is Taylor's penchant for Puzzle-boss wins later on, as it were. Also one of the reasons why information really is so vitally useful in Worm, and how Taylor's powers are key for that.

Most conventional superhero verses I'm familiar with definitely lend themselves more to an approach where a supervillain or superhero's powerset is largely established - obviously DC and Marvel can't avoid that, but even other superhero media seems to have that too.

But the internet is full of lies, mistakes and misrepresentations. Really makes you wonder what the in-universe wikipedia entry for Superman is like tho.

I decided to move away from where I was and find a better vantage point to monitor their conversation, which seemed like a good compromise between my curiosity and my self preservation.

Very fair. Going against the fire-breathing armored dude who can eventually become a dragon does seem hazardous to one's health.

They were going to kill kids?

And so the Wormverse turns. Had she not heard the word 'Children', or had Lung used a different word, or just said 'The Undersiders' or whatever...

1.3 doesn't really seem to have a whole lot going on honestly but it isn't nothing, and sometimes you just need a bit of a bridging chapter.

#Worm #Wormblr #Worm Web Serial #Worm Parahumans #Worm Wildbow #Kylia Reads Worm #Gestation 1.3 #Taylor Hebert #Lung

19 notes · View notes

up-in-space-reading · 2 months

Text

Average Weekly Screentime - Chap 4: Study Dates and Movie Not-Dates

pairing: Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago

word count: 3546

warnings/tags: college au, texting, drunk texting, text fic (mostly, there's prose a few chaps in), bets, bisexual!jake peralta, jake peralta has adhd, parties, drinking and alcohol, sexual references, implied sexual content (nothing explicit, just suggested its going to happen/has happened), friends to lovers, swearing, mentions of cannibalism, lighthearted threats of violence (typical rosa stuff yk), fluff CW: At one point in this chapter there's a guy being a bit pushy towards Amy but its over fairly quickly and nothing bad happens.

read on ao3

Average Weekly Screentime masterlist

Story Summary: texting fic college AU with the squad! It's the beginning of the school year and while everyone else thinks it'll be the same as the previous year, Gina has a feeling things are going to be different and wagers a bet with Rosa and Charles. Told through all the various group chats everyone is in.

authors note: Another chapter is here!!! I don't really have much to say about this chapter if I'm honest except that it was a fun one to write!! There's actually some fun little Gina and Charles moments that were very fun to write so I hope you like those too.

Thanks for reading <3

Jimmy Jabbers

[11:32am, Sunday]

Pineapples: how is everyone this fine morning??

Four Eyes: It’s far from a fine morning, it’s absolutely freezing outside Four Eyes: Also my head hurts

Pineapples: you and me both ames

Four Eyes: I was thinking of going to Sal’s for a greasy breakfast and coffee

Pineapples: great idea! Pineapples: count me in

Queen G: calm down u two Queen G: im also in Queen G: ily sal

RoRo: same

Pineapples: that u love sal?

RoRo: I’ll hit you

Mr Grapes: count me in for greasy breakfast too! Mr Grapes: gotta have the party debrief

Dance Squad

[11:37am, Sunday]

G-Hive: well that’s a new development

Scary: elaborate?

G-Hive: ‘ames’ G-Hive: a nickname

Scary: right Scary: is ur life THAT boring gina?

G-Hive: i will end u

Scary: i’d love to see u try

Amy sat up in bed with a groan, her muscles aching after the hours of dancing and the cold walk home in heels. Her head was hurting, the light peeking through her curtains just a bit too bright for comfort. She stretched and mentally went through her routine to get ready: pain killers, brush teeth, get dressed, do hair. Makeup was not going to happen today she had decided quickly, and she was sure the left-over black eyeliner hugging her lash line was sufficient to convey an illusion of effort.

She moved about her dorm going through the process of getting ready, making sure to wear some layers as a cautionary look at the weather report told her that she would need to rug up. A part of her made the rest of her feel guilty for not showering but she wanted to be ready quickly to go out, and she wasn’t ready to part with the curls Gina had crafted just yet. So to preserve them a bit longer Amy tied her hair up into a ponytail.

It wasn’t long after she’d finished tying her hair up she got a message from Jake.

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[11:58am, Sunday]

Ferris: u ready?

Cameron: Yep!

Jimmy Jabbers

[11:59am, Sunday]

Pineapples: whos ready??

Queen G: rosa and i are

Mr Grapes: mee!

Four Eyes: Ready

Pineapples: meet at sals? Pineapples: usual table?

Queen G: k

Mr Grapes: yep

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[12:03pm, Sunday]

Ferris: im outside ur building

Cameron: I thought we were meeting there?

Ferris: i got too excited and left early

Cameron: Haha okay, on my way out now

Amy put her hoodie on and zipped it up, she then quickly wrapped her scarf loosely around her neck and was about to walk out of her door when she suddenly remembered the jacket hanging over her desk chair.

Without thinking, she put it on over her hoodie and ran out the door shrugging her bag onto her shoulder. The elevator ride was quick and walking through the building Amy noticed a few others who seemed to be nursing hangovers from an eventful Saturday night.

She met up with Jake outside who seemed to give her a once over before prompting the beginning of their walk, Amy didn’t question the look he gave her and chalked it up to being hungover. They chatted about nothing in particular as they made the short walk to Sal’s.

Walking through the door they were hit with a strong gust of warm air, the heating having been turned up to accommodate for the weather outside. Rosa, Gina and Charles had already gotten there and were getting comfortable in their usual booth.

Jake called out to them as he and Amy walked through the diner towards the table, Charles turned around to greet Jake back. His face lit up when he saw the two of them and Amy thought it was nice how close Jake and Charles were.

Charles quickly turned back around in his seat and Gina raised an eyebrow at him before composing herself again. Charles shuffled down the booth so Jake and Amy could slide in, Jake sitting in the middle and Amy on the edge.

She quickly got warm in the diner and moved to take Jake’s jacket off, handing it back to him.

“Sorry, forgot to give you this earlier” She said as she handed it to him.

“Ain’t no thang” He placed it on the seat between the two of them as Amy gave him a weird look in response to him.

Dance Squad

[12:10pm, Sunday]

Charlese: have mercy on me Charlese: he gave her his jacket Charlese: that’s his favourite jacket

G-Hive: what does it MEAN charles

Scary: I think you know exactly what it means gina

G-Hive: but he hasnt even said anything about liking a girl G-Hive: let alone AMY G-Hive: he usually overshares about that stuff

Charlese: he definitely would’ve told me by now

Scary: you two are exhausting

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[12:11pm, Sunday]

Cameron: Rosa, Gina, and Charles are texting each other aren’t they?

Ferris: we can only assume so Ferris: so rude tbh

The five of them ordered their greasy breakfasts and a boat load of coffee, talking about the party and how everyone’s night went. Charles began oversharing about his evening with a girl before a round of disgusted responses got him to ease up with the details.

Gina and Rosa (primarily Gina) recapped every detail leading up to and during the argument some two random guys were having which caused them to leave. Then Jake and Amy were asked how their night went, Amy almost began blushing and felt embarrassed to answer but she didn’t know why. All she did was play beer pong with Jake and the others, then dance with Jake, then walk home with Jake, and borrowed Jake’s jacket-

Oh.

“I’m just gonna run to the bathroom” She excused herself from the table quickly while Jake recounted the beer pong game for Gina.

While in the bathroom she tried to get her head straight, convincing herself now wasn’t the time to think about these sorts of things because she was hungover and tired. For now she moved all the thoughts of her night with Jake to the back of her mind, glad that they were still talking about beer pong when she returned to the table.

After a while and checking the time Amy decided to go back to her dorm and do some reading, wanting to at least feel mildly productive today. Everyone agreed they all had things they needed to do, so they all paid and left the diner, walking back to campus in the cold.

They went their separate ways towards their dorms and Amy almost felt lonely going up the path towards her building without Jake by her side, cracking jokes and bouncing on his toes with excitement over a new would you rather question he thought of.

Once back in her dorm she sighed heavily, getting out a book, putting on some music and settling on her bed to read.

Dance Squad

[04:06pm, Sunday]

G-Hive: do we need a debrief orrr??

Charlese: a debrief would be fantastic

Scary: you two are way too heavily invested in our friends love lives Scary: they’re gonna do what they’re gonna do and in their own time Scary: what they tell us and what they don’t is up to them, give them some space and have some boundaries Scary: don’t be weird and don’t be creepy

Charlese: …

G-Hive: … jeez rosa G-Hive: charles call me in 10 we gotta talk

Charlese: will do!

Scary: unbelievable

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[04:19pm, Sunday]

Ferris: just asked charles if he wanted to watch a movie and he said no bc he is on the phone to GINA

Cameron: That’s so weird, what are they talking about?

Ferris: he wouldnt tell me!

Cameron: That is very unlike either of them Cameron: It’s probably nothing, don’t stress about it

Ferris: hm okay

Jimmy Jabbers

[06:12pm, Monday]

Pineapples: okay Pineapples: what is the message u would send to signify you were kidnapped

Mr Grapes: McDonalds is the best food ever

RoRo: the colour pink is underrated

Queen G: Beyonce is overrated

Four Eyes: Books are for nerds

Pineapples: mine is Pineapples: i love making the bed

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[07:32pm, Monday]

Ferris: really wish i had some soup yk

Cameron: My mom makes the best soups; I’m looking forward to going home for the holidays and eating as much of it as possible

Ferris: brag much! Ferris: if there is leftover ill happily accept

Cameron: Haha, with all of my brothers that’s a very big IF

Ferris: how many brothers do u have??

Cameron: Seven

Ferris: JEEEEZ Ferris: no wonder you are the way you are

Cameron: What’s that supposed to mean!?

Ferris: ur SO competitive Ferris: me too tbf

Cameron: Can’t argue with you on that one..

Ferris: i tell it like it is

Cameron: Sure you do Pineapples

Ferris: the horrors never end :(

[02:10pm, Tuesday]

Cameron: Are you on your way yet? Cameron: I’m at our usual table

Ferris: sorry omw Ferris: couldnt find the right notebook

“I said I’m not really interested right now, I’m just trying to study” Amy said for the third time to the guy sitting across the table from her, getting increasingly agitated at his persistence and praying Jake would show up soon.

Her prayers were answered when she saw Jake walk in and spot her, at first looking happy to see her before his expression changed. He could tell immediately that something was wrong and made a beeline for the table as quick as he could without running through the library.

“Jake, you’re here, hi” Amy quickly cut off the guy who just began talking again.

“Hi Ames, is everything alright?” He sat down next to Amy and was quickly looking back and forth between her and the guy who was now confused and angry at Jake’s presence.

“I was just asking her out because I think she’s pretty” The guy cut in, not letting Amy answer.

A look of understanding crossed Jake’s face.

“Well as her boyfriend I’m not sure I can support that” He put an arm around Amy’s shoulders as he said this and her eyes widened in surprise.

She hoped against everything that Jake didn’t notice the heat creep up her neck, she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as her brain was running through a million different emotions all at once.

The guy scoffed and walked away from the table, leaving Amy to sigh a breath of relief. Jake removed his arm from around her and she was disappointed at the loss of warmth and weight.

“Well he sucked” Jake commented after a few moments of silence, trying to break the tension.

Amy exhaled quickly through her nose in response.

“Yeah he did” A few more moments of silence passed as Jake got his things out of his bag, “thanks for that, I appreciate it” She continued, quieter than before.

“It’s fine” Jake shrugged it off, opening his books and laptop, spreading everything out across the table.

The two of them worked for roughly 10 minutes in comfortable silence aside from the clatter of laptop keyboards and the clicking of pens. Suddenly Jake stopped with a halt, putting down his pen and leaning down to rummage through his bag.

“I completely forgot, I brought lunch”

He pulled two sandwiches out of his bag, handing one to Amy.

“You got subs? Lunch was meant to be on me today” Amy protested with a smile, remembering their banter from the weekend.

“Next week it’s on you, then” He responded, waving a hand in dismissal.

He went to open the sub and begin eating it right there over his books and it made Amy cringe but she let him be, knowing her objections wouldn’t make a difference.

They spent a few hours at the library studying until it got dark, Jake frequently asked Amy questions about the work and she was happy to answer all of them.

She wore a small smile on her face the entire way back until she got in her dorm room and realised what she was doing. She then proceeded to scream into her pillow and flail around until she was satisfied she’d gotten her feelings out, feeling childish afterwards.

Her feelings for Jake was something she simply chose to not think about, because having feelings for Jake was complicated and Amy’s never done well with complicated that wasn’t related to school work.

There was also no way Jake liked her back, they were way too different.

He wished he could go one day without thinking about her. She was the most beautiful plague on his mind, half of him wanted a cure but the other half enjoyed the symptoms far too much.

His jacket smelled like her, his notebooks had her red pen marking throughout them, and his camera roll full of memes that he found just for her.

At first it was a feeling he was able to deny, but slowly the feelings crept up on him, slow enough that he hadn’t noticed until one day it hit him like a truck. The feeling made him sit down with his head in his hands, wondering how he could possibly develop a crush on one of his closest friends.

Charles had been saying since day one that Jake and Amy were meant for each other, and now Jake couldn’t believe he was actually right. If Jake ever told anyone, Charles would swoop in with the advice of a declaration of love like and happily ever after.

But Jake couldn’t do that, Amy didn’t like him back and how would they even work they’re such different people. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship.

Jake Peralta was head over heels for Amy Santiago and had no idea what to do about it.

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[07:03pm, Thursday]

Cameron: Looking at the assignments you have left and how much time, you’re 100% gonna get it all finished

Ferris: you think so???

Cameron: Absolutely!

Ferris: ur the best ames

Cameron: It’s nothing.. Cameron: You’re the one who did all the work

Ferris: im gonna have a nice relaxing winter break

Cameron: And then back to it in the new year

Ferris: dont remind me

Cameron: If it’s any consolation part of me is dreading going home

Ferris: what about the soup?

Cameron: The soup is great, the busy household with no privacy is less than great

Ferris: fair enough Ferris: feeling lucky im an only child Ferris: but my mom cant cook like urs

Cameron: You’ve never had my moms cooking?

Ferris: i dream of it Ferris: i dream of soup ames

Cameron: Of course, haha

[05:42pm, Saturday]

Ferris: what r ur saturday plans

Cameron: Dinner soon, then study, maybe a movie if I have time Cameron: Why?

Ferris: forget that mess Ferris: im getting take out and watching a movie Ferris: join me plleaasseeee

Cameron: Not that I don’t want to, but what about Charles?

Ferris: on a date with the girl from the party Ferris: im proud of him

Cameron: Good on him Cameron: Okay, I’ll finish this up and head over Cameron: Do you want me to bring the big fluffy blanket?

Ferris: dumb question Ferris: obviously bring it

[06:03pm, Saturday]

Cameron: Coming over now!

Ferris: see uuuuu

The Night Boys

[09:23pm, Saturday]

Deathblade: hows the date going?!

Sidewinder: AMAZING Sidewinder: we both go to the same restaurants around the city and she loves dogs Sidewinder: I think she might be the one

Deathblade: thats great charles!!! Deathblade: use protection!!

Sidewinder: WILL DO JAKEY

Jimmy Jabbers

[09:48pm, Saturday]

Pineapples: if u disagree when i say one of the hottest looks of all time is Patrick Swayze in dirty dancing then ur not my friend

Queen G: out of nowhere but an important message thank u jake

Pineapples: i only speak the truth

RoRo: swayze’s hot

Four Eyes: I never said he wasn’t hot, Jake, can you let it go!

Pineapples: not until i get vindication

Four Eyes: Get off your phone and watch the movie please

Pineapples: fine

Dance Squad

[09:56pm, Saturday]

Scary: yeah somethings going on

G-Hive: YES ROSA

[07:23pm, Monday]

*G-Hive started a video call* *Charlese joined the call* *Scary joined the call*

Gina: Heeeeeey

Charles: Hi Gina! Hey Rosa!

Rosa: What do you want?

Gina: I wanted to talk to the only two people who care about Jake and Amy-

Charles: Peraltiago, that’s their names combined-

Gina: Boyle! You’re ruining the fun of it!

Rosa: There shouldn’t be fun to speculating as to whether two of our friends are gonna bang

Gina: If that isn’t fun then what even is fun, Rosa?

Rosa: Knives

Charles: Just knives?

Rosa: Just knives

Gina: Ignoring that. Can you believe they were watching a movie together? Without us! I’m almost offended we didn’t get an invite

Charles: To be fair, I was on a date so I couldn’t have gone anyway

Gina: Don’t even talk to me about how you had a date on Saturday and I spent the whole night in my dorm alone

Rosa: Didn’t you get the DJ’s number from the party?

Gina: OH MY GOD! Rosa thank you for the reminder, texting him literally as soon as we’re done here!

Charles: What are we doing here exactly, Gina?

Gina: Great question Charles. We’re here because I’m bored and want to do anything other than more goddamn school work

Charles: Fair enough. Did you see Amy wearing his jacket last week?

Gina: He has a weird attachment to that thing and seemed perfectly fine giving it up to Amy for however long? He literally wears it everywhere!

Charles: Everywhere! And he just let Amy have it for at least 12 hours, that’s gotta mean something

Gina: I hate how much you get me Charles

Charles: Sorry

Rosa: Have you guys ever considered that they like each other?

Gina: Of course we have Rosa

Charles: Only ever since the two of them met

Rosa: I’m going to indulge you for a minute, and then I am leaving this conversation. Stop gasping for god sake.

Charles: Sorry

Rosa: The two of them clearly like each other, they’re both stubborn and competitive and weird. One day they’re gonna talk and figure it out, and its not up to us to interfere with whatever weird flirting friendship thing they have going on.

Charles: I might start crying

Gina: I hate to say it but me too

Rosa: Great, now I’m going. Bye.

*Scary left the video call*

Gina: Now that she’s gone, I gotta tell you what Sasha in my analytics class said today!

Charles: Dish!

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[04:05pm, Wednesday]

Cameron: You’ve been out of class for five minutes and still not given me an update regarding the assignments? Cameron: Keeping me on the edge of my seat here haha

Ferris: well ames… Ferris: idk how to break it to you

Cameron: What happened?

Ferris: I GOT A 70% Ferris: I HANDED EVERYTHING IN AND I PASSED Ferris: this semester at least

Cameron: JAKE THAT’S AMAZING Cameron: I knew you could do it!

Ferris: i wouldnt have been able to if it wasnt for u

Cameron: That’s not entirely true, you were the one who did all the work

Ferris: but u helped and encouraged me Ferris: so im thanking you Ferris: just accept it

Cameron: Fine… you’re welcome

Ferris: ur gonna hate the next bit tho Ferris: im sure u remember our stakes

Cameron: Oh no…

Ferris: if not ill refresh ur memory Ferris: amy santiago Ferris: will u go to terrys new years party with me AND match me drink for drink

Cameron: Yes, Jake Peralta, I will go to Terry’s new years party with you and match you drink for drink

Ferris: SHE SAID YES LADIES AND GENTS

Cameron: Hahaha Cameron: Tread lightly, I have a number of nieces and nephews who will gladly get me sick right before the big event if you’re not careful

Ferris: ames how DARE you threaten to betray me Ferris: and after all the work ive done

Cameron: Hahahaha

Jimmy Jabbers

[04:15pm, Wednesday]

Pineapples: good afternoon everyone! Pineapples: whos planning on going to terrys nye party??

Queen G: im absolutely there

Mr Grapes: it’s still a week and a half away but yeah I’ll probably be there

RoRo: idk RoRo: if I’m not doing anything else

Pineapples: @Four Eyes and ur answer?

Four Eyes: …yes I’ll be there…

Pineapples: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Pineapples: whats that sound? its the sound of victory

Four Eyes: Whatever you say, pineapples

Mr Grapes: hahaha pineapples is still funny

Queen G: cool it mr grapes

Mr Grapes: aw..

[03:30pm, Friday]

Four Eyes: I’m heading home for the next two weeks now. I hope you all have a great holidays!

Mr Grapes: you too amy!

Skipping School Is(n’t) Cool

[03:31pm, Friday]

Ferris: wait im not gonna get to say goodbye to u?

Cameron: Sorry, I thought I’d have a chance but I ran out of time

Ferris: thats okay Ferris: have a good holiday ames :)

Cameron: You too, Jake :)

authors note: And so we end it just as the holidays begin! I loved writing the dynamic between Gina, Charles, and Rosa this chapter; especially Gina and Charles! idk why but I just have this feeling that Charles and Gina would love gossiping together, and being the two really openly rooting for Amy and Jake I feel like would cause them to be a little bit closer in that way.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll try to have the next one out as soon as I can!! Thanks for reading <3

#alice writes #jake peralta x amy santiago #jake peralta #amy santiago #gina linetti #rosa diaz #charles boyle #fluff #college!au #bisexual!jake peralta #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #multi chap #average weekly screentime

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