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eddiesghxst · 10 months

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PRICE OF FAME (PART 10/12)

helloooo, here are these two messy cuties once again, i hope you enjoyyy

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: time is almost up but who could deny a good karaoke session?

contains: enemies to lovers trope, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, sexual themes, slight angst, those awkward/cringey scenes where they're singing (i apologize in advance), and lots of mixed feelings <3

word count: 3.9k

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song inspo for this chappy hehe:

Steve and Robin love karaoke.

Nancy had warned you that the friendly pair practically fiend for a good karaoke sesh, but you hadn’t expected them to be as enthusiastic as they turned out to be.

For some odd reason, the city seems less busy today, so you, Eddie, and Eddie's friends can take up as much room as you’d like on the sidewalk.

In front of you, Robin and Steve are seriously debating what the first song on the queue will be. Walking just a few paces behind them is Nancy, who’s quietly taking in the city's bright lights; and next to you, palm burning a hole through your hand with his addicting touch, is Eddie.

It’s stupid, you think. The way Eddie has seen you stripped down and bare, whining and quivering for him at what could arguably be your most vulnerable state, yet you still find your heart racing 100 miles a minute with this soft gesture of holding hands.

Sure, you’ve held his hand before, but not for this long. Not in public when it’s not the heat of the moment and you’re simply walking around. It’s weird and new, and it makes your stomach twist in a good way, but fuck— you chicken out when Robin and Steve turn to face you, Nancy, and Eddie.

“Steve wants to start karaoke with Queen— like any karaoke amateur would.” Robin huffs as Steve rolls his eyes. You slip your hand from Eddie’s hold before either of them can clock the gesture, and you avoid looking at Eddie when he clears his throat.

“Because it’s the perfect opener!” Steve stresses. “Everybody always does, Queen, Steve! Plus, I’m not even sure I can physically pull through with how long their songs are.” Robin argues.

Steve’s jaw dropped as if Robin had just said the most foul thing he’d ever heard, “Their songs are not that long. And even if they are, they’re fucking amazing, so what’s your point.” “My point is we’re not starting the night with Queen.”

They’re an interesting group of friends, you’ll admit. Interesting in the sense that you swear they could be a part of some sitcom with how funny and unpredictable their conversations and interactions are.

By the time you reach the karaoke bar, Steve and Robin have an entire list of songs mentally queued up, and they make a beeline to the DJ operating the music as you and Nancy snag a table towards the middle of the room. The bar is to one side of the room while the stage is at the front, and the DJ booth is at the back; the rest of the room is full of tables where people chatter, laugh over drinks, and sing along with whoever is currently doing their performance. Eddie had split off to get drinks the second you entered the bar, so it’s just you and Nancy as you settle at the wooden table.

“Are you going to sing?” Nancy questions from the other side of the table. You pull a face, shrugging your shoulders up to your ears, “I’m not sure, maybe once I get a few drinks in me. How about you?” Nancy softly laughs with a playful roll of her eyes, “Unfortunately, I doubt Robin will let me escape this one.”

As if summoned, Robin slides into the seat right next to Nancy. “I put you down together, but there’s a few people ahead, so start thinking of the song you’ll sing.” She gestures between you and Nancy. You shrug, accepting defeat, and before you can pitch an idea for a song to Nancy, Robin is leaning her elbows against the table and blinking at you, “So, let’s cut to the chase. What’s going on between you and Eddie?” She asks.

Nancy’s eyes widen as she instinctively jabs her elbow into Robin’s ribs, “Ow!” “Rob, you can’t just ask people that— god.” You softly laugh as Robin rubs at her sore side. “Sorry if I’m interested in keeping tabs on my friend!” Robin sarcastically argued.

Nancy rolls her eyes and sends you an apologetic look. “Look, I’m just guessing— based on the fact that you two were in the back of a fancy restaurant— that something is going on. Oh— unless this is, like, a business thing, then you can totally ignore me.” Robin rambles.

“Robin,” Nancy stresses. Your cheeks seem to ache from the amused expression on your face as Nancy turns to you, “You don’t have to answer either way since it’s none of our business.” She says, voice raising near the end as she glares at Robin. Robin rolls her eyes, and you laugh with a shake of your head as you shift in your seat. “No, it’s fine, I understand, but um,” You shrug, “It’s just a business thing.” You finally answer.

And, technically, you’re not wrong. There is a business transaction going on between you and Eddie… and the rest of the band, which is primarily the basis of your relationship, but you’re not sure how appropriate it would be to say, ‘Yeah, I mean, Eddie hated me, but now he doesn’t, so then we fucked yesterday but then his manager basically told us to squash whatever that was, so now we’re kind of in a weird spot because we don’t hate each other but we can’t like each other. Oh yeah, and here’s the kicker, Eddie’s been a total asshole this entire time, and it’s fucked with my head a bit. But apparently, he wants to change!’

It’s a colorful mess of loopholes and twists and turns that probably nobody will fully understand aside from you and Eddie, so…. business thing it is.

Robin seems to take that as an answer, but Nancy is now intrigued by your tone, “That didn’t sound very sure.” She playfully raises a suggestive eyebrow. Robin hums, “What happened to it being none of our business?” She points out, to which Nancy just waves a dismissive hand in response. “It’s a business thing, but…” Nancy prods. Your face warms as you lift your shoulders in a shrug, “I mean, it’s… it’s complicated.”

Nancy nods with a shrug as she shifts in her seat, “So, how did you two meet?”

You take a deep breath as you lean to rest your elbows on the table, “Well, I’m a writer for Rolling Stone magazine—” Robin gasps, grabbing your attention, “No shit? Nancy’s a journalist too— ow!” She turns to look at Nancy with a disgruntled look as she rubs her thigh, “Would you stop bullying me?” She frowns.

Before either of them can get far into bickering, Eddie and Steve come waltzing back to the table with drinks in their hands. Eddie snags a seat beside you and passes a drink to you; you smile as you gratefully take the glass and softly thank him. Steve plops down next to Robin, sliding her and Nancy their drinks as he says, “Alright, I hope everyone has their songs picked out because I plan on battling each and every one of you.”

Although the weather outside is on the more chilly side of summer days, you find your body warm with liquor and laughter as you, Nancy, and Eddie watch a tipsy pair of Steve and Robin sing a surprisingly good rendition of Huey Lewis’ Heart and Soul. You’ve shrugged off your sweater and tossed it over the back of your chair— and you’re thankful to have thrown on a tank top underneath because, most of the time, you hardly bother to wear anything beneath sweaters.

It’s their fourth song of the night, Eddie and Nancy have both gone up at least once, but you’ve been on the observant side mostly, enjoying the ongoing conversations you’ve had with Nancy. There’s a bowl of chips and salsa in the middle of the table, and Eddie’s arm is draped across the back of your chair, heat pouring from him and seeping all around to wrap you up in an Eddie-scented bubble— it’s nicer than you’d care or like to admit.

Nancy has turned around to watch and cheer on the performance; she’s become more animated and loose after a few drinks, and you laugh as Robin practically serenades her from the stage. You lean back in your chair, softly giggling as you slightly lean into Eddie, “So,” you grab your drink and glance at the boy on your side, “What’s the dynamic here?” You ask with a jut of your chin towards his friends.

Eddie hums, leaning further into his chair, and in turn, pressing himself closer to you. His breath is warm against your ear and cheek, curly strands brushing against your skin as he speaks, “So basically,” He dramatically sighs, and you smile at his dramatics as he gestures between his friends, “Nancy and Steve are exes from high school and Robin and Steve are best friends.” You nod, gaze darting between the friends as you connect the dots. “But,” He raises a finger over his glass, “Robin and Nancy are dating now.” Your eyebrows raise at the full circle of events, but you nod as your suspicions are finally confirmed.

Eddie leans closer, voice dropping to a lower volume, “But at this rate, it’s safe to say Nancy’s playing third wheel for Steve and Rob since they practically share one brain cell.” You tilt your head, “Okay, I see it now.”

Nancy glances over her shoulder to glare at you and Eddie from her seat, “I heard that, assholes… you’re not wrong.” She grumbles. You and Eddie laugh as she turns back to face you both now that Steve and Robin are hopping off the stage.

“Steve’s actually seeing a girl now; she’s in nursing school.” Nancy pipes up, grabs a chip, and pops it into her mouth. Eddie leans forward at that, keeping his arm on your chair as he uses the other to grab a chip for himself, “Nursing school?”

Nancy nods as she sips her drink, “He goes down to see her like every other weekend. And they run our phone bill up like hell.”

Robin plops down into her seat, “What are we talking about? Steve’s hot nurse babe?” She asks, humming when Nancy nods. Robin scoffs as she turns to Eddie, “Can you believe they’ve been dating for, like, four months, and we have yet to even see a picture of her? They see each other every week!”

Eddie snorts, “Then who’s he talking to on the phone?” Robin shrugs, “Who knows at this point.”

Steve returns as if on cue, sitting down with a sigh as he glances at the table, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing, just talking about your imaginary girlfriend.” Robin teases.

Steve groans, eyes rolling before glaring at his giggling friends— your cheeks hurt from smiling. “She’s real, okay? She’s real, and her name is Cassie, and the only reason you haven’t met her yet is because she’s literally in nursing school— she has a busy schedule!”

And although you wish Eddie and you had been able to finish your discussion without the abrupt interruption, you find yourself growing fond of this shade of Eddie— sure, you’ve seen him having fun and being unapologetically himself with Gareth and Jeff and even on stage, but this side of Eddie is softer— kinder, brighter— homey.

You realize as you watch him singing his heart out to some mainstream pop song that Steve somehow talked him into doing. You’re more surprised that Eddie knows the lyrics, but you’re too tipsy to dwell on it because Nancy’s scooting onto the chair beside you and asking what song you two should sing because, “We have to outsing them, obviously.”

And, well, you hardly have the time to stop your lips before you lean in and tell her the song you’d like to sing. Nancy snickers, giggling at the obvious undertone of the chosen song, and she eagerly agrees because “He’s gonna shit his pants.”

You go back and forth on who will take which role— who will sing Tom Petty’s key, and who will sing Stevie Nicks's key— but then you eventually land on just singing together for the entirety of the song. When the boys finish their song, Nancy drags you up to the DJ to request the song and magically persuades him to let you skip the queue of people to go next. She’s a good flirt, that’s indisputable.

You should probably thank Nancy at some point for agreeing to this song regardless of how little information she has about your situationship with Eddie, but before you even get the chance to, you and Nancy are already singing the first line of the song— Baby, you'll come knocking on my front door. Same old line you used to use before— and well, Eddie’s head has never turned his head faster, but you avoid his gaze for as long as you can.

And you’re doing good; you’re doing so good, and then you get to the second chorus and lock eyes with Eddie as you sing along to the track with Nancy— Baby, you could never look me in the eye. Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the world. Stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my heart around— and, well… you think you made your point clear.

You and Nancy have a blast singing to Nicks and Petty, and when the song ends, the bar claps and cheers as they do after every performance, and you’re all smiles as you waltz back to the table, sitting next to the fidgeting boy you’d just indirectly serenaded. Steve and Robin are telling you and Nancy how well you did and teasing each other over specific parts of the performance, and they’re all so caught up in one another that they hardly notice as Eddie leans into your space, voice low and gravely as he speaks, “That was cruel, princess.”

You look at him, eyes falling to the ghost of a smirk that dances across his lips before you reach forward to grab your drink, wrapping your lips around the thin, black straw, maintaining eye contact as you shrug, “Did you get the hint?” You tease.

Eddie huffs around a laugh, shifting in his seat, left arm back to barricading the back of your chair, and you don’t fail to notice the tent in the crotch of his jeans. He rolls his tongue over his teeth, snickering when you raise an eyebrow, “Yeah… Yeah, I got the hint.” He nods, and you think you might see a pink tint dusting across his cheeks.

You smile, liquor making you bold as you blink up at him, “Good.”

It’s a long trip to the hotel with a pair of drunk best friends.

They ramble a lot— Steve and Robin— you come to find out, and Nancy and Eddie have become experts at handling them with ease. You realize this as you watch them get their friends tucked into bed. Nancy is tipsy, but Eddie informed you that she has a weird thing with tequila where she becomes highly functioning, so she’s moving about the room with grace and precision.

When the drunk pair is finally tucked into bed, Nancy walks you and Eddie to the door of the hotel room, thanking you for taking the time to make sure they got in safe. “I would say see you at breakfast, but I doubt these two will have crawled from the grave by then.” Nancy gestures back to Robin and Steve.

You don’t blame them; they’re basically on holiday, and you would do the same.

Your and Eddie’s rooms are on a different floor, and it’s a long ride up to the top, especially with the burning desire for one of you to say something— what, you’re not sure.

“I like your friends.”

That was you talking, you realize when Eddie turns to you with a smirk, “Yeah? They didn’t scare you off with their incessant shithead behavior?” He jokingly questions. You hum with a laugh, “I’ve dealt with worse.” You tease.

Eddie walks you to your room, his intoxicating smell and presence hovering around you as you unlock the door before stepping in. You turn around, hand resting on the edge of the door as you look at the curly-haired boy, “Good night, Eddie.”

Eddie hums, leaning against the door frame, eyes flickering to the twist of your mouth before reaching your eyes again, “Not gonna finish our conversation?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I hardly believe you’d be doing much talking if I let you in right now.” And you don’t think you’re ready to travel down that path again. Not so soon when you have the events of tonight to digest, not to mention the gift sitting in your bag.

Eddie shrugs with a small smirk, “I can multitask.”

His gentle smile is beautiful. Alluring and unique, and his eyes are taking you with such an intensity that you think you might melt if you stay a minute longer. “I didn’t choose that song for the hell of it, you know?” You ask. “Stevie’s got a mean fucking range. Lord knows if I’ll be covering her again.” You grumble. And really, how high can the woman go with her rasp?

Eddie laughs, turning his head and glancing at the empty hallway before looking back to you, “Yeah, I know,” He softly replies.

You nod and he takes a deep breath, nodding towards your bag slung over your shoulder, “Listen to the tape.” He reminds you.

You tilt your head, clenching the strap of your bag before speaking, “Are you under the impression that this would make up for everything?” You ask.

And you don’t mean for it to sound harsh or hurt his feelings, but you have to let him know that if that’s what he’s hoping, then he’s wrong. This doesn’t fix everything. This doesn’t fix the confused feelings and the harsh words. It’s a start, but it’s not a finish as well.

And although Eddie’s expression falters, he shakes his head, “No. But I still want you to listen.”

You nod quietly, gazing at each other and wishing you could start on a different foot. You clear your throat, straighten your stance, and step back. “Good night, Eddie.” You softly say.

By the time you finish showering and getting ready for bed, the only thing running on your mind is the pending need to sleep. The maids had changed out the seats so they’re not doused with the ghost of Eddie’s cologne and shampoo— but you don’t go long with Eddie out of your mind because there’s a hard object that pokes into your arm when you settle into the bed.

You groan, twisting your arm around your frame to dig out the small object from below you, and when your fingers wrap around the plastic case, you immediately remember the task you’d had for tonight— listen to the tape.

The sleep that weighed down on your body is suddenly gone as you sit up to grab your walkman and headphones before settling back into the comfy sheets.

You try your best to ignore the swirling feeling of nerves and excitement in your gut as you put on your headphones and slip the tape in, but you find yourself nipping at the skin of your nails as the tape winds either way.

It’s silent for a moment, the sound of shuffling and the soft thud of what you think might be someone setting a glass down. There’s a clearing of a throat— it’s Eddie, you can tell— and your stomach twists in anticipation at the first ring of a piano chord.

The beginning chords are soft and slow, gentle enough to lull you to sleep if you sink into it, and the recording is so vivid that you can hear the dull thud of each key beneath the press of his fingers.

Your heart races when Eddie’s voice seeps into the melody. It’s a ballad, something Corroded Coffin doesn’t have much of, and you wonder why because the softness of Eddie’s voice is arguably one of the most heavenly sounds to have ever touched your ears.

I'm feeling a way, off some kinda drug

Maybe it's lust, maybe it's love

I know I said I'd straighten out a week ago

I'm fiending though, 'bout to reach my peak, you know

The city's got me falling now

It’s… fuck, it’s fucking good, and you haven’t even gotten to the chorus, but god, your heart skips a beat at the following line because it’s a direct callout to you.

I'm fading away, I'm losing my head

I know you said leave, but fuck what you said

As much as you wish you could say you hate it… you don’t.

Even though the song is about you and your twisted relationship with Eddie— which definitely aids to your feelings towards the track— it’s genuinely a good song. Which, okay, is slightly annoying, but you can’t find it in yourself to care as the song carries on.

The future's never looked so bright, it's blinding me

It's hard to see, I'm swimming through dopamine

Your body looks like heaven and

I wanna give up, I just wanna leave

I'm floating away, I'm caught in the breeze

The outro of the song comes and slows down, a softer sound than before filling your ears, and shit— you’re at the edge of your seat now because Eddie is singing so gently, and it has your mind swirling.

I can't believe this is happening

What did I do? What did she do to me?

…

Mending my brain again

Please don't give up on me

This hurts tremendously

How will this end for me?

When the song dies off, you can hear shuffling again before the track ends, and you’re left with spinning thoughts as you take your headphones off and let the silent and dark room envelope you.

You have to take a moment, yanking the string of the bedside lamp to light up the room so you can see your thoughts more clearly because— how do you feel? You’re not sure, honestly, and the thud of your heart beating in your chest only clouds your judgment even more because— isn’t this what you asked for? For Eddie to be open and honest with you, to tell you his true feelings and where he’s at when it comes to you. And is it enough?

Would it ever be enough for Eddie to give you one simple, stripped-down track to allow him the chance to mend what he’d ruined?

Your heart wants it to be enough, but realistically, it’s not. Eddie has only just begun his journey to forgiveness, and you have to remind yourself that it’s not wrong to be hesitant to let him in, neither is it bad for you to want him as badly as you do. You’re both learning, and you’re both trying to fix the damage that’s been done, and it might take time, but if you both want it— if Eddie really wants you— then the time and work it takes to fix things won’t be a bother.

You listen to the song two more times, maybe more than twice, and you let the words sink into your bones until you practically have it engraved into your mind, lulling yourself to sleep with the haunting echo of Eddie’s voice and words bouncing in the walls of your skull.

And in your dreams, you meet Eddie, and for the split second you have with him there, everything is perfect— and by the time you wake up, the ticking time bomb to make your choice is now louder than it’s ever been before.

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part eleven

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a/n: OMG HIII, you made it to the end again !!! i would just like to specify that the song eddie has written and sang for birdie in this chappy (23 x chase atlantic) is not entirely a nod towards their relationship! reader is not specifically 23 years old nor is she struggling with any type of substance abuse, the lines that were used in this chapter are the lines that actually adhere to them imo, OKAY I THINK U GET IT I'LL SHUT UP NOW.

also, this is not the last of the songs that eddie has written abt birdie btw🫣

i hope u enjoyed and i love love love reading any and all feedback as well as ur silly thots <3 AND AS ALWAYS, TY FOR READING, I LOVE U SO BIG MWAH <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @ye0nvibezzn @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@daddyhetfield @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly @nabiiturner @catherinnn @mossiswriting

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peachyjeonss · 1 year

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SUNKISSIN’ | J.JK

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Jungkook x Lifeguard!Reader

Genre: strangers to enemies, enemies to lovers, Smut

Warnings: Reader has a belly piercing, mentions of getting high, Jk and reader have nose piercings, size kink, slight daddy kink, Jk is pretty dominant even when it’s not sexual, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap pls), readers kind of a bitch at first, Jk is also kind of a dick at first, clueless reader at times, Jk gets jealous, jk eats her out, reader gets jk off, ass slapping, reader gets bent over the kitchen counter, reader’s kind of a spoiled brat, brat-taming, choking, tummy bulge, praise, degradation, cum eating, brat tamer jk, dirty talk, slight exhibition, Jk is kind of an aggressive person (not in a toxic way obv),

Rating: M

Synopsis: Summer has begun and so has your job as a lifeguard at the Stillwells Country Club — Which means; sunny weather, blue pools and cute bathing suits! You’re looking forward to it; just another normal summer working with friends, but your summer takes a turn when you see his sweet eyes and intimidating stature at the staff car wash.

A/N: This is my first posttt, here’s the teaser!

His sunglasses lean on the tip of his nose as he looks up at the sky, breathing out.

“This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you in a minute.” Yoongi laughs, sitting next to him as he lathers sunscreen on his pale arms.

“Yeah, surprisingly work hasn’t come to my mind yet.” Jungkook admits, letting out a breathless chuckle as he kicks his feet in the water.

Yoongi hums, “Me neither, and I’m not even a sun person.”

“That’s what the rich life does to you, I guess.” Nari giggles, swimming to them.

Taehyung follows suit, pushing his falling sunglasses back up his nose. “Yeah, I’m about to order a pina-colada just ‘cause.”

“Don’t abuse the free membership either.” Jungkook warns, looking back down at his friend. “It was nice of her to do this for us.”

“Yeah, Aya’s always been pretty sweet.” Taehyung agrees, “She has her spoiled moments though, can't take the rich out of the girl completely.”

Nari smiles, “She’s better than me, I wouldn’t even interact with you peasants if I had country club money.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re not rich.” Yoongi teases, “You’d be horrible.”

“I suppose.” Nari shrugs, looking around before her mouth falls into an O, “This resort even has good-looking lifeguards...”

Jungkook cocks a brow at her, last time he remembers the lifeguard was some scrawny dude with a permanent scowl. Looking up, Jungkook sits up quickly, pushing his sunglasses over his head at the familiar figure he sees switching seats with the old lifeguard.

“Isn’t that the girl you checked out the other day?” Yoongi asks, his eyes raking over your body shamelessly, making Jungkook shove him gently.

“Yeah, it is.” Jungkook smirks, watching as you offer some kids a cute smile, telling them to watch their step as they run. Even in the basic red swimsuit the lifeguards were required to wear you still somehow managed to look like sin. “She’s friends with Aya, right?”

“Yeah, they're actually really close.” Taehyung says in a forgetful manner, too preoccupied in doggy paddling around his friends. “Been friends since middle school.”

“Shit, so they're like sisters then.” Nari corrects, “Middle school to college is cool, they saw each other get out of the awkward stage.”

“If she even had one.” Jungkook laughs, still eyeing you.

“They say the prettiest girls have the most awkward phases.” Nari shrugs, “I mean, look at me, gorgeous and my awkward stage was horrendous.”

“Yeah, sure.” Yoongi laughs, wincing when Nari pinches his leg.

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harmonicakai · 5 months

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Was It Something I Said?

Part 5 of the "Anyone Else But You" series

Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader

Summary: It gets harder and harder for you and Kai to pretend like there isn't something going on between the two of you.

Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst, stylist!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (mdni!!!!), reader is insecure, miscommunication, alcohol, injuries

A/N: ahhh this series is almost over!!! i'm gonna miss it so much, but there's still plenty to come :-)

FIC INSPIRED PLAYLIST <3

“Did I fuck it up again? Are we destined to be friends? I wanna give you more than that” —Be Around Me, Will Joseph Cook

Kai and the boys have been in Japan for two days now, but with the amount of times that he has you on the phone, it feels like he never even left. Even if he refuses to talk about what happened at the album party, things are going pretty well between you and him.

You’re about to head out the door when your phone rings. You don’t even need to check the caller ID.

“Y/N, you didn’t call! The show’s about to start and you didn’t call!” Kai’s voice rings out of your phone’s speaker. While you can tell he’s mostly joking, he’s also a little worked up.

“Kai, we just talked, like, two hours ago. You know I have that date tonight.” Oh, he knows.

“Yeah, but I like when you call right before I’m about to go on stage. You’re my good luck charm.”

“You’re just being superstitious.”

“I wish you could see me pouting right now.” His sad puppy dog visuals pop into your head.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent. “You’re going to do amazing, Hyuka. Fighting!”

“That’s my girl!” he laughs, immediately ready to give his all on the stage. “I miss you so much.”

His affection catches you off guard and you go quiet.

“Hello?” he asks. “Y/N, are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m still here. Call me back so I can know how it went, okay?”

“You know I will,” he assures you. There’s obvious disappointment in his voice.

“Hueningie, it’s time to go!” you hear Taehyun call in the background.

“I have to go. Bye. Have fun on your date!”

“Bye,” you say. He ends the call and you feel an ache in your stomach. You miss him too, so why couldn’t you have just said it back?

When you finally get out the front doors of your building, Seongjin’s already waiting for you, flowers in hand. You note his outfit, something similar to what you have pinned on your “boyfriend manifestation” moodboard.

“Hey,” he says, holding the bouquet out to you. “These are for you.”

“They’re lovely,” you smile, bringing them to your nose to sniff them. You love the smell of roses. “I don’t think anybody’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” Seongjin’s hand finds its way into yours. He’s bold and romantic, even dressing exactly how you’d like him to. He’s checking off all of your boxes, and yet something feels off.

As the two of you walk towards the city’s center, you actually have no clue what he’s planned for tonight until he stops outside of a restaurant that you’ve had on your bucket list for years now.

“You’re joking!” you say in disbelief. “You have to get a reservation months in advance to eat here, and even then it’s impossible.”

“I called in a few favors,” he grins, holding the door open for you. You blush, wondering what you’ve done to deserve even a fraction of the effort he’s gone through.

The dinner’s going okay. There’s just something about the way that Seongjin’s meticulously planned everything, even his responses to your small talk, that makes you suspicious. He feels too perfect, almost unreal.

You find yourself focusing more on the delicious food than on any of what he’s been saying.

“You know,” he starts, “I only went to that album party because I knew you’d be there.”

The hint of Seongjin speaking in a less rehearsed way grabs your attention. You look up to see him grinning.

“No, you didn’t,” you laugh, dismissing him. “You probably didn’t even know who I was before Yeonjun introduced us.”

“Of course I did. I’ve thought you were cute for a while now. The way you’re always running around with your arms full of clothes. I can’t wait to debut so you can dress me up.”

You can’t believe that anybody had even noticed you around the building, let alone taken a romantic interest. If only somebody else felt that way.

“Well, does that mean you’re not a big fan of TXT?” you ask, sipping your wine. You’re mostly joking, but also curious what his honest opinion of the group is.

“I mean, obviously, I think my uncle makes great songs for them. But besides Yeonjun, I don’t think they’re the kind of guys I’d really hang out with, you know?”

Your face heats up at his answer and your energy shifts. “No, I don’t know. Care to explain?”

“The other guys just seem so dorky. Not to mention half of them were wasted at a work event. Like that Huening kid whose outburst interrupted our conversation. What was that about anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” you scoff, setting your silverware down. “And he’s not a kid. He’s almost twenty-two.”

“Look, Y/N, I know you’re close with them. I didn’t mean to make you upset. We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” you say, standing up and gathering your things. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

On your way home, you start to wonder if you’ve made a mistake blowing off someone so well connected, but the way he talked about your friends makes your blood boil.

Then again, things had been going just fine before then. Maybe you should’ve just smiled and nodded like you usually do. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get asked on another date again, let alone one that was planned so well.

Suddenly, your phone rings and for some reason, you answer. “What do you want now, Kai?!” you snap into the speaker.

“Whoa,” an unexpected voice replies, dragging out the word. “Actually, it’s Yeonjun.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you groan, embarrassed at your attitude. “Hi, Jun.”

“So, I’m guessing your date didn’t go very well?”

“I think I’m going to get fired,” you huff, finally reaching your building again.

“That bad, huh? Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. He’s handsome and thoughtful and everything I could ask for really, but there wasn’t any sort of spark. Plus he called everyone in the group except you dorky, and that’s when I just got up, thanked him, and left.”

“Everyone else is dorky, Y/N. You really couldn’t wait until the end of dinner because of that?”

“Fine, it’s stupid when I say it out loud. But the damage is already done,” you sigh, digging through your purse for your keys.

“I’m sure he’d reconsider if you apologize,” he reasons with you. You’re not sure that you actually have anything to be sorry about.

“I shouldn’t have to! He was making fun of Kai!” That’s it, you realize. That’s the reason you’re so upset. Of course this is somehow about him.

“Ah, I see now,” Yeonjun says, dropping the issue. “Well, hopefully you won’t run into him at work much.”

“Hopefully,” you agree. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing,” he muses. “I really played off the crowd’s energy, and they loved my solo stage.”

“That’s awesome, Jun,” you smile back. Ever since you and Kai have grown closer, it’s felt like Yeonjun has taken a backseat. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Soobin tried to do the Water challenge,” he laughs. “We all ran to cover him up, though. Beomgyu played the guitar, and MOA kept mentioning how Taehyun looked like Ash Ketchum.”

“Maybe you guys need to do a Pokémon concept,” you think out loud. You don’t fail to notice that Yeonjun has conveniently left out Kai from his recap, as if he’s testing to see whether you’ll bring him up first.

“Would I get to be a fire type trainer?” Yeonjun asks. So, he really isn’t going to mention how Kai did tonight. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to ask about him.

“Yes, of course. I think Soobin would be water, Beomgyu grass, and Taehyun psychic. Actually, wait. Maybe Beomgyu would have fairy types.”

“And Kai?” Yeonjun finally relents. You breathe out in relief at the mention of him.

“He’d be electric,” you decide. “Or normal. Whichever ones are the cutest, really.”

“You wanna know how the concert went for him, don’t you?” he asks.

“No, it’s okay, Jun,” you brush him off. “We can talk about whatever you want.”

“Y/N. It’s cool. I’ve just been messing with you.” You can practically hear him smirking through the phone.

“Oh,” you twiddle your thumbs. “Well, yes, then tell me how he did.”

Yeonjun sucks in a breath. “First off, I don’t want you to get worried.”

“Okay? Why would I be worried?”

Yeonjun hesitates before answering you. “He’s at the hospital right now.” Your stomach drops.

“What?! Is that what you were hiding from me?”

“I knew it would make you upset, Y/N. It’s not a big deal. It’s probably just a sprain, alright?”

“But he’s hurt,” you sigh. “Is that the reason you called me and not him?”

“Can’t I just want to hear my dear friend’s voice and ask how her date went?”

“Mhmm, sure.” You side eye him through the phone, plopping down onto your bed. You’re too tired to change out of your date clothes.

“Okay, fine,” he continues. “Kai did ask me to call you while the doctor checks him out. He knew it would probably be all over social media and didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s probably my fault he injured himself,” you mutter, kicking off your shoes. “I hope it’s not too bad.”

“Y/N, he’s fine,” Yeonjun assures you. “And how could it possibly be your fault? We aren’t even in the same country right now. The stage was probably just wet because of the rain from earlier.”

“I think I made him upset right before you guys went on stage. He said he missed me and I didn’t say it back, but I think he wanted me to.”

“Hmm, I guess he did seem a little down now that you mention it.”

“Well, tell him I said sorry.” Knowing that he was noticeably off tonight because of you makes you feel horrible. If you had just said it back, he probably could’ve focused on the show better.

“I mean, if you want to wait and tell him yourself, he’ll probably be back any second now.”

“I don’t really feel like talking anymore. Night, Jun. I’ll see you later.” Before Yeonjun can say bye, you’ve already hung up. You’ve never been more confused over your emotions than tonight.

Throwing a pillow over your head, you scream into it. Your love life is in shambles and all you can think about is Huening Kai’s stupid, possibly-sprained ankle.

—————-

When Kai’s plane lands, you’re the first person he wants to see. Before he even left, he made sure that you had a key to the apartment, something Yeonjun was always too lazy to do.

You haven’t brought up the disaster of a date you went on while he was away, and to your relief, he hasn’t asked about it either. It’s almost as if he doesn’t care that it happened.

Getting him to agree to watch the new Mean Girls remake for your weekly movie night was much easier than you expected. You had even prepared a whole speech for why he should relent even though it was supposed to be his choice tonight.

“It’s a musical,” you reasoned. “You’ll like it!”

You were very, very wrong. The movie was horrible, but at least that meant that the two of you could hate-watch it together.

“Those lyrics…” he starts, rubbing his temples as the closing credits played.

“And the costumes!” They were not going to age well.

“That was really bad,” he laughs. “That’s the last time I’m letting you pick when it’s my turn.”

“I have a feeling I’ll still be able to charm you in the future,” you say, batting your eyelashes.

“That is so not fair.” He crosses his arms. “Why are you so cute?”

“It’s my superpower,” you say, grinning. A few months ago, you would’ve never said something like that, but Kai makes you feel so much better about yourself.

The way you’re looking at him makes him blush, and he glances away hoping you haven’t noticed. His gaze focuses on the clock on the wall.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s past two.” Kai says. Time always seems to disappear when you’re together. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Thunder booms outside the window and you can hear raindrops hitting the roof.

“That might be a bad idea. I can just call a car,” you say, grabbing your phone. He stops you.

“Just stay here,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can’t sleep on the couch,” you disagree. “Yeonjun will think we’re mad at each other.”

“Well, if we sleep in here together, he’ll probably start planning our wedding.”

“I guess we’re losers in this game, huh?” you say, immediately cringing at the pun. The two of you exchange glances before cracking up.

Kai always takes longer to stop laughing than you. “Okay, how about this. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says, still giddy.

“But it’s your bed! I can sleep on the floor.”

“I am not letting you sleep on the floor. You’re my guest.”

“This is stupid, Kai. Yeonjun doesn’t know the difference whether one of us sleeps on the floor or in the bed. We might as well just share.”

“But you snore, remember?”

“There’s actually no real evidence to that claim,” you refute.

“Well, it’s a twin sized bed. I might crush you.”

“I don’t need that much space. We can even sleep head to toe, if you want.”

“My feet stink. Your feet stink.” The effort he was going through to not share a bed with you was eating away at you. You’re sure he’s slept with his group mates plenty of times before, so what difference did it make?

“Oh my god! Fine, sleep on the floor.” You throw a pillow and one of his many plushies his way, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks from behind, his voice now quiet and careful. To be honest, you’re not quite sure whether you’re being serious or not.

You turn over to look at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, petting the plushie’s head.

“Kai,” you sit up. “Kai, look, I’m sorry. I’m not mad.”

“I feel like I’m always putting my foot in my mouth when I’m around you.”

“You’re not. I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if I didn’t want to.” You cup his cheek, running your thumb over one of his moles. “I promise.”

Yeonjun isn’t afraid to check you when you’re in the wrong, but Kai is too sweet to deal with any sort of confrontation. It’s something you’ve been having to adjust to lately.

“We can share the bed. I didn’t mean to make it seem like it was a bad thing,” he says. Sometimes you think he can read your mind.

“Okay,” you say, making room for him. He turns off the lamp and climbs in next to you, making sure to leave a big enough gap so he doesn’t touch you. Even in the dark, it’s obvious that he’s lying halfway off the mattress.

“You can come closer,” you say. God forbid he falls onto the floor in the middle of the night and it’s your fault for hogging all of the bed.

He moves inward, your faces so close that your noses are nearly touching. You could probably count his freckles from here.

Sure, every once in a while, you’ll lay your head on his shoulder or he’ll lay his in your lap, but this is much more intimate. Suddenly, your heartbeat feels too fast to fall asleep anymore.

“Y/N,” Kai whispers, although he already has your full attention. You like the way he says your name. His fingers grip your waist under the sheets, bringing you even closer.

You tremble under his touch, his eyes locked on yours. This is a dangerous game.

In seconds, his mouth is pressed against yours, desperate and hungry. You’ve been kissed by boys before, but never like this. You can’t get enough of him.

You run your fingers through his hair, still soft even after several sessions of bleach. Like that night in the cab, you feel him hard against you, except now it’s intentional. It feels good.

Kai climbs on top of you, finding his way between your legs without breaking the kiss. You wonder how often he’s done this.

“We shouldn’t,” you breathe as he presses kisses along your collarbone, although it’s lost between your heavy sighs.

His hand grazes the waistband of your shorts. Visions of him doing the same with other girls—specifically the one from that morning—pop into your head. Panicking, you pull away from his kiss, using all of your strength to push him off of you.

“Y/N?” he asks, his lips puffy and his brows knitted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” you say, tugging down the hemline of your t-shirt, which had ridden up during the exchange. You hop off the bed and attempt to find your sneakers in the dark.

“Please don’t go,” he pleads with you, grabbing onto your wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was stupid.”

You turn back to him, tears welling up in your eyes. “It was stupid?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just—I don’t want to do anything that could ruin our friendship. You mean too much to me, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how much I wanted to and no matter how good it felt.”

“It felt good?” you say, stepping towards him. It’s a relief to know he at least enjoyed it as much as you did.

“Really good,” Kai admits. “But it shouldn’t have happened. I can’t risk losing you.”

“Right.” It’s a really good point. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“So… no kissing.”

“No kissing,” you agree.

“Anything else off the table?” He asks this in a way that you can’t tell if he’s flirting with you or not. You decide to take the risk and step closer to him.

“I think cuddling is fair game. It would be too great a loss to our friendship.” You hold his hand.

“Mhmm, definitely.” He helps you climb back onto the bed before following suit, pressing his chest to your back, enveloping you in his warmth.

“You know, if I had you around in the wintertime, I’d save a lot on my heating bill,” you point out.

“Go to sleep, silly,” Kai laughs, nuzzling his head into the nook above your shoulder.

“Fine. Goodnight,” you yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispers, although you’re already sound asleep, your soft snores filling the room.

—————-

When you wake up, Kai is gone. He’s left a note on the bedside table that reads: Went to get breakfast. Be back soon :-)

You stumble into the living room, rubbing your eyes as sunlight streams through the balcony doors. Yeonjun sits at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and watching footage from the group’s latest dance rehearsal.

“Be honest, did you and Huening fuck last night?”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Come on, Y/N. I heard some suspicious shit when I went to the kitchen to grab water and unless he’s doing some magical switcharoo, you’ve been the only girl around for the last few months.”

“Is this some weird cross examination? Are you going to compare my story to his?” You try not to smile at the notion that Kai has stopped seeing other girls, but it makes you giddy.

“I wish. He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Yeonjun huffs.

“Well, if you must know, we made out for a few minutes. I panicked. He panicked. We both agreed to never do it again. End of story.”

“That’s no fun.”

“It’s not, but it prevents us from doing something we might regret and breaking up the entire friend group.”

“Do you like him like that?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of does, Y/N. I’m pretty sure that boy is head over heels in love with you.”

The thought of Huening Kai being in love with you stops you dead in your tracks. Your Kai, secretly pining for your affection? You decide that it’s nothing more than a fantasy.

“That’s impossible,” you shrug. “It was just a moment of weakness between two friends. Nothing more, okay?”

Before you can discuss this any further, Kai is walking through the front door, coffee and pastries in hand.

“Y/N, you’re awake! I was scared I’d have to get you out of bed myself. Yeonjun was warning me how grumpy you are in the mornings.”

“She’s a monster,” Yeonjun says. You flick him on the side of the head. “Ouchie.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he giggles, unpacking enough doughnuts to feed an army. “I didn’t know which one you wanted, Y/N, so I just tried to pick ones I thought you’d like.”

“I love honeydew, so you picked well,” you say, taking a bite of one with bright green filling. “Mmm! Where’d you get these?”

“Old Ferry Donut. It’s across town, but totally worth the trip. I go with my sisters all the time. You should come with us next time.”

“Ooh, introducing Y/N to the family. It’s getting serious,” Yeonjun teases. Kai shoots him a dirty look. He takes the hint, grabbing a couple of doughnuts on the way back to his bedroom.

“He can be such a dick sometimes,” Kai sighs.

“Yes, but he’s our dick,” you insist, trying not to let him ruin the moment.

“I suppose that’s true,” he laughs. It always makes you feel good about yourself whenever you manage to cheer him up. Usually, that’s his job with you. “I’d really like for Lea and Hiyyih to meet you, though. I think you’d all get along super well.”

“Then let’s set something up. I’m free all day,” you say, your mouth full of food.

“Really, Y/N?” Kai asks. You nod in agreement and his eyes light up at your enthusiasm. “This is awesome! I’ll text them right now!”

Maybe, just maybe, he really is in love with you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28 @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie @philijack @lixpixstix @reiheis

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don’t want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to keep things separate <3

#hueningkai x reader #hueningkai #huening txt #txt #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt fic #txt hyuka #hyuka x reader #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #hueningkai fluff #hueningkai angst #hueningkai imagines #hueningkai smut

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minustwofingers · 1 year

Text

exoplanet part 7

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

series masterlist (read parts 1-6 here!)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: stuck up awful rich people. mentions of: abortion (sowwy ** i can't write kids), homophobia, throwing up, general awful elitism, heavy drinking, implied minor character death, and we talk about stuff like unethical labor practices/basically slave labor. depictions of: violence, guns.

a/n: hey yall....sorry for taking literal months to write this. and sorry in advance for what you're about to read, since this is admittedly a little far removed from tlou. and i'm also sorry if this isn't what you guys are expecting—i know i made you wait a long time for this, so it was tough for me to finally get around to posting because i didn't want to disappoint anyone. also it was just sooo sad writing the last scene because i just didn't want it to end!! anywayyyy enjoy

wc: 14.6k (i know...i know...)

tags: @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28 @sugarqueencosmos @iriswalrus @chiao1209 @lovecaraya @thatgiraffefromtlou @alwayslongingforyou @thelastofshimmer

May 16th, 2029

Welcome to AskAI! Enter your questions below and I'll try my best to answer :)

How does Cordyceps spread?

Ophiocordyceps unilateralis is mostly commonly spread between humans by the medium of bodily fluids, though this was not always the case. In the early stages of the outbreak, most carriers were infected by the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores in flour from a Jakartan mill. It is still unclear how the contamination occurred.

Is saliva included in bodily fluids that carry Cordyceps?

Yes, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva. Other bodily fluids include blood, feces, mucus, and semen.

So if someone were to kiss someone infected with Cordyceps, would that person be infected too?

Yes, because Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva.

How long would it take before seeing symptoms?

If Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores were to be introduced to an individual via mouth-to-mouth transmission, the approximate incubation window has been recorded to be no longer than 8 hours.

How long would it take to be detected by a standard testing device?

Our testers would detect the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis within an hour after exposure. Note that this only refers to the conditions outside of Terranova. There has never been a detected case of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis in Terranova’s history.

Thank you.

You’re welcome! Please leave feedback on the AskAI Feedback Form if you have any ideas as to how I can improve <3

One year later

“And there’s no way we can skip?”

“You know the rules.”

Dina rolled her eyes and sighed as you two stood at the door of your parents’ penthouse, waiting to knock. “Maybe if you went and I said that I was sick or something.”

“They’d know you were lying.”

“They’d probably be happy if I missed dinner.”

“I don’t know if happy is something they can be,” you said. You tried to make it light and joking, but it came out with the heaviness of truth. “Plus, they’re not exactly thrilled with me either.”

“Not exactly thrilled” was the understatement of the century. Ever since you’d come home with a pregnant outsider toting a gun and covered in dirt, your parents had convinced themselves that you’d somehow become corrupted over your time living outside.

But Dina had it way worse. Your parents were so scandalized by her rugged ways and the fact that she’d gotten pregnant out of wedlock that they’d nearly fainted upon realizing you were advocating for her Terranovan citizenship.

You both had had the good fortune of avoiding any further tense interactions with them for the last few months, but that morning you’d awoken to an email that contained an invitation to their home for dinner. It was noted that Dina had to attend.

So here you two were. Dressed in uncomfortable, stiff clothes and nervously twiddling your thumbs.

“You’re going to be fine,” you promised Dina. It sounded like a lie. “I’ll do most of the talking, okay?”

“If you say so.”

You rang the doorbell.

It took just a few moments before the door swung open.

“Hi Chris!” you greeted, plastering a smile on your face.

Your family housekeeper smiled back with a neutral warmth. She looked slightly thinner than you remembered when you saw her last just a few months ago. “Hello. Miss Dina, please remember to keep your shoes on this time.”

Dina flushed bright red. The last time she’d come over for dinner, she’d taken her shoes off and had been given a very stern lecture by your mother about how improper stockinged feet were for dinner. “Of course not, ma’am.”

You sent her an apologetic look and stepped inside.

“Your parents are in the sitting room,” Chris told you as she took your coats.

You thanked her.

“Why don’t they ever come up to greet us themselves?” Dina whispered to you.

You shrugged. “No clue. They just never have. They probably don’t want to have to take a break from whatever stimulating conversation they’re having about the country club happenings.”

She snorted. All of a sudden, you were overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude for Dina and her spirit. After your family had essentially decided you were hopeless, family get-togethers had become torture. Dina was your lifeline.

As Chris had said, your parents were found lounging in the sitting room, your mother fanning herself with one hand and holding what looked to be a gin and tonic in the other, your father sitting across from her in a tastefully worn armchair.

“Girls,” your mother greeted. Her eyes looked flinty and flat. “How good of you to come. I was worried you’d lost your way.”

It was a classic Y/L/N insult for latecomers, but it was barely a minute past 6:30.

“The elevator wasn’t working,” you offered. “We had to take the stairs.”

“Hm. Well, come and sit. Petra can get you a drink.”

A tall girl who couldn’t have been much younger than you was standing at the other end of the room next to the bar. She had bright ginger hair that stood out starkly against the neutral beige of her uniform and a small, squatty nose. You’d never seen her before in your life.

“Is she new?” you asked.

“Who, Petra? Oh, I think so. It must’ve been…oh, I’m not sure. This March, I believe? What do you think, darling?”

“Around then.” The solid ice globe slid against the glass with a clink as your father answered, taking a long pull of his bourbon after.

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Dina politely.

Your mother let out a labored sigh. “Dear, I’m very glad to see you working on manners, but there’s no need to engage with the help.”

Dina didn’t answer, instead sending you a meaningful look.

“Well, not usually,” she continued. “Though it is appropriate to interact with them in matters that are considered strictly business. Take, for example, the fact that neither of you have managed to order a drink yet. Petra, come.”

You stared at your hands, folded tightly in your lap. If there was anything you hated more than your parents, it was how they treated the help. And, though you’d never say it out loud, you didn’t understand how two middle aged adults needed more than one full-time housekeeper on hand. Chris made sense. Petra was entirely unnecessary.

“We really don’t need anything,” you said to Petra when she was in front of you, looking rather pale. “But thank you.”

The tension in the air refused to dissipate, not even when you were relocated to the dining room and had the crutch of picking away at the three courses served to you.

Dina, having been thoroughly scolded by your mother the last time she dined with her, was clinical in choosing which utensil to use for each course.

Your mother babbled on and on about the country club and the book club. Your father occasionally butted in with a few dull, lifeless comments. There was something especially dead in his appearance, like he was running on zero sleep.

“You may be curious as to why I asked you two here today,” your mother said after the main course plates had been cleared. “First of all, I wanted to extend my congratulations to my daughter for graduating in just a few days.”

“Thank you,” you said stiffly.

“And more importantly—”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“—I wanted to announce that your father will finally be retiring,” she said. “He’s been working so hard for the last few years. Isn’t this wonderful?”

“That’s really great, Father,” you said, feigning a smile to hide your confusion. You hadn’t known that your father had even worked, much less hard enough to warrant a formal retirement.

“Thanks, dove,” he said.

“When’s your last day?” you pried, wondering if you could manage any more information out of him.

“This Friday.”

“Hm.” So much for that. You exchanged glances with Dina as Petra reappeared with a tray of small goblets filled with colorful globes of sorbet.

“You’ll both be expected to be in attendance at his retirement party,” Mother added. She was frowning deeper now.

“Even me?” said Dina.

“Yes.” She smiled tightly. “And please note that they’re unaware that we helped you through your…little problem. I can’t imagine why that would ever come up in conversation, but I would really prefer it didn’t.”

“Uh huh,” responded Dina, her eyes wide.

When Dina had arrived, your family had given her two options—have her child and give it up for adoption, or terminate the pregnancy then and there in secret. Refusing to comply would lead to your parents being entirely unwilling to sponsor her citizenship as it was far too unseemly to be an unmarried mother. Though it was clear your parents thought she was devastated by the prospect, she’d confided in you later that she hadn’t realized that that had been an option for her. She’d taken the second option without a second thought, telling you that she didn’t feel ready to be a mother.

The unfortunate part of it all was that your parents held this over her head on occasion, using it as leverage to make Dina feel like she owed them. Hence why she never felt entirely comfortable with telling them off.

That your parents had kept the abortion a secret was hardly a surprise. Abortion was one of those issues that no one liked to talk about. Though it wasn’t the hardest procedure to get, it was never publicly discussed. You’d never personally known of anyone who had gotten one before, but the clinic had been so full when you’d attended with Dina nearly a year ago that you were beginning to second guess that fact.

“Anyway,” said your mother lightly, “Darling, have you heard anything from the Thompsons recently?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t seen Richard in quite some time.”

“It’s funny you say that. Melanie was supposed to host the Garden Club party last week, and you’ll never believe what happened.”

“What, honey?” Your father stared dully at the tablecloth, entirely unengaged.

“When I stopped by, the rest of the girls were already there,” your mother said. “Just sitting out in front of her building looking very confused. I walked right up and asked what was going on—you know, now that I’m co-president, I need to keep things in order—”

“Yes, honey.”

“—And Angie tells me that they’ve been ringing her for ten minutes and she hasn't answered. I decided to give her a call, and straight to voicemail. So we all sat out there until it started raining. We never even got an apology text.”

“Oh,” said your father, looking a little more engaged. “Is that really?”

“Yes,” your mother said. The attention made her sit up straighter. “It absolutely was. It was incredibly inappropriate. I couldn’t believe it. And to think that she stole that hosting spot from me…”

“Do you know if she’s alright?” your father asked,

She shrugged. “I should hope not. That’s the only excuse she could have for what happened.”

“Hm.” Your father moved the melting sorbet around without clinking his spoon to the crystal. “It seems that quite a few of us have been dropping off the face of the Earth.”

“It must be because of the long winter,” you said diplomatically. “Too much darkness makes us all a little loony.”

Your mother raised a brow and hummed in assent. “I suppose so.”

“Is that why groceries are so expensive now?” you asked. It had become a new development. About 6 months after you and Dina had returned, the prices on the shelves had rocketed upwards.

“Something like that,” your father said vaguely.

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N,” your mother warned.

“It’s alright, dear,” your father said, waving his hand. “It’s really nothing interesting. Supplying this city has always had its challenges. This year just happens to be especially hard.”

“What kind of challenges?” pried Dina.

“Shipments are always difficult to orchestrate,” he said. “As is quality control. It’s nothing that we haven’t seen before. Prices will go back to usual within a few months. The pendulum always has to swing back.”

It was a saying he always used—the pendulum analogy.

Dessert wrapped up quickly. Your mother gave you the official date for your father’s retirement party and ironed out your graduation details, and before you knew it you and Dina were off into the night.

“Thank fucking god that’s over,” said Dina as you two trotted down the street to the metro.

“Tell me about it.” You zipped up your jacket to ward off the slight chill in the evening air. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with all of that. I appreciate you coming with me. I know they’re awful to you.”

“Well, they’ll be worse if I don’t go,” she responded, her eyes cloudy for a second. She was right. One misstep and they could have her citizenship and their financial sponsorship rescinded.

“True,” you conceded.

The metro was bustling with people as you and Dina hopped on to the yellow line that would take you to the university residences. It was modeled right after the Parisian metros, with its Art Nouveau signs and themed stops. There was only standing room, so you two clutched onto the stainless steel poles in the middle.

The doors made a groaning sound and a speaker crackled as the announcer came on.

“Doors closing. Please stand clear of the exits. This is an express train with service to University Park. Other stops include 25th Street and North Village. There will be no evening service to Rotingham.”

You and Dina seemed to come to an unspoken agreement to remain silent and process the hell that had been dinner with your parents as the train lurched forward into motion. You closed your eyes and would’ve rested your head against the handrail had it not been so gross.

The only fortunate thing about your parents was the fact that they were incredibly easy to get to, despite living on the other side of the city from the university. What would’ve normally taken 40 minutes with transfers was cut down to 15 with the use of an express train that ran right from the station outside of your apartment.

You had resolved to just sit in silence when the train came to a screeching halt.

Your eyes shot open, meeting Dina’s confused gaze.

The lights above flickered, then sputtered out to leave you in darkness.

There was a hushed silence amongst everyone in your train car.

“What’s going on?” Dina whispered to you.

“This happens sometimes,” you said quietly back, but it was sort of a lie. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for the lights to go out, but you’d never had it happen in tandem with a train stopping on the tracks before reaching a station. And especially not an express train…

The lights flickered on again, and there was a shared sense of relief as a few of the train’s occupants let out a shaky laugh.

“Thought we were going to have to walk!” said a ruddy looking old man sitting across from you. The car responded with polite chuckles.

“Apologies for the delay,” came a voice over the loudspeaker—a human voice, not an automated one. “There was a disturbance on the tracks that had to be dealt with. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. Service will continue as usual.”

The train lurched back into movement, the dark walls of the tunnel moving past in a blur.

“That was weird,” Dina remarked once you two had gotten to your stop and were walking up to ground level.

“Yeah,” you said, frowning. “I didn’t want to tell you then because I didn’t want to freak you out, but normally express trains never stop, especially not at this time of night with less trains in service.”

“What qualifies as a disturbance on the tracks?”

“I have no clue,” you confessed. The sun was hovering just barely over the horizon, its last rays of light reflecting aggressively off of the skyscrapers in the distance from which you came. “Someone probably dropped something big like a suitcase onto the tracks and blocked the way. It happens.”

You were purposefully avoiding the elephant in the room—that it had probably been a person on the tracks. It wasn’t especially common—not nearly as common as you heard it was in places like New York before the outbreak—but it happened on occasion. Terranova wasn’t the best place for everyone.

“The Thompsons are Simon’s family, right?” Dina asked you. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the cheerful chatter of fellow university students socializing and drinking on the green next to the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” you said. You and Dina had occasionally hung out with Simon since returning. You noticed that Simon had really taken a liking to Dina, but neglected to mention it since his parents were actively attempting to arrange a marriage between him and some girl in the Art History program at your school. “Have you talked to him at all? I haven’t heard from him for a week or so.”

“Me neither.” Dina tightened the dark braid that fell over her shoulder as she walked, looking rather troubled. “I didn’t realize his parents were missing.”

“They’re probably fine,” you said. “I seriously wouldn’t worry about it. There’s nothing here that could hurt them.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I just forget that there’s no infected here sometimes. Like, tonight, I thought I was gonna have to start swinging on someone in the train when the power cut.”

“God, same.” You shivered. “It’s weird to know that we don’t have to worry about that anymore. But I think it’ll get easier with time.”

“Yeah,” said Dina, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Well, I’m going to text Simon and see if he’s alright. Or maybe call him. I’m sure he’ll know what happened.”

“Let me know what he says.” You’d ascended the steps up to your shared apartment and were slotting the key into the keyhole. “By the way, did I ever formally invite you to my graduation?”

“Not that I recall.” Dina followed you in and kicked her shoes off.

“Well, consider this your formal invitation,” you said, turning to grin at her. “It’s this Saturday. Be there or be square.”

“Will there be free food?”

“And anything you want to drink,” you told her, though you weren’t entirely sure of that fact. You’d only ever been to one graduation in your life, and that had been years before it was socially acceptable for you to drink anything beyond the odd glass of watered down wine—but you recalled a memory of particularly free-flowing champagne flutes being passed around.

“Consider me sold.”

You had to be going crazy. There was no way.

You entered the numbers back into the graphing software again. Then again. Then one more time, just to be sure you were seeing what you were seeing.

“Everything going alright over there?” asked old Professor Gunther, looking up from his grading and his steaming cup of tea.

“Um—” You blinked, hard, then looked back down at your calculations. “Professor, can you look at these for me? I think I must’ve made a mistake.”

“Of course, my dear.” He graciously accepted the notepad full of barely legible numbers that you came up to hand to him and adjusted the glasses on his face so he could squint more efficiently. “And what is this exactly?”

“I’ve been parsing through the data on that star—that K star you’d been watching for a while—and, um, I’ve noticed something.” Your voice shook nearly as much as your hand as you pointed to the scribbled numbers. “Can you, uh, graph these? And put them into a different program than StarBlast? And look at the spectra? It’s giving me what I think is—actually, I don’t know. You do it and I’ll show you what I got.”

“I’m confused about what you could have possibly done wrong,” he said, though he was already opening his own laptop and starting up a different program that you hadn’t used before because of how much you hated the GUI. “Did you try to parse it by hand to check?”

“Yes,” you said. “Horrible idea. Took me forever.”

“And you got the same result?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” He took off his glasses to wipe them off, then began typing in the data you’d emailed to him earlier for bookkeeping purposes. “Let me see what I have.”

The agonizing few minutes it took for him to enter him already had your mind spiraling with possibilities as the implications sunk in. If you were right—if this was right—everything was going to change in your field.

The spectra graph roared to life.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard your professor say. “Is this—”

“I think so,” you said. “I think so.”

What you two were looking at held more than one piece of crucial information. The first was nothing but basic calculations of a Doppler Shift that detected that there was a planet. Your calculations estimated its size at roughly the same as the Earth, with a similar orbital period and distance from its star that placed it in the habitable zone.

That wasn’t anything earth-shattering. There were plenty of Earth-sized planets in the habitable zone, implying that if the conditions were right, there was an environment conducive to organic life.

What was, however, were the spectra emissions that you were staring at, slack-jawed and skin prickling.

“Methane,” you whispered. “And oxygen. And phosphine.”

And not just a little—enough that it suggested biological processes that could only occur with the presence of life.

“I think you should finish writing this report,” Professor Gunther finally said.

You froze. “What?”

He turned to you, his glasses sliding down his bulbous nose and a kind smile on his face. “I’ve made enough discoveries in my life. This one is yours to claim.”

You were overcome with so much gratitude that you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

Gunther good-naturedly patted your back with the enthusiasm of a grandfather being pestered by his grandchildren. “This is your moment. Take it.”

“Thank you,” you said, pulling back with tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He smiled again. “It’s truly my pleasure. I feel lucky to have had a student like you.”

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to start crying.”

“We can’t have that,” he said, standing up and handing you back your sheet of calculations. “You have work to do.”

You settled back into your work across from him, nearly buzzing with excitement as you finished typing up your findings. It would be a long process for the study to actually be published—long, painful, and undoubtedly draining—but it would be so worth it. You’d be the one who discovered a planet that (most likely) harbored life. For the first time in history.

Though you wouldn’t be publishing a paper any time soon, you still had to log the planet into the “global” (not exactly global given that there was no other place on Earth with the same technology as Terranova) database. And with that meant giving it a name.

In that moment, it was like time froze as the cursor blinked in the box. There was nothing but the blood rushing in your head, the dull hum of the fluorescent lights above, and the slight stickiness of the leather desk chair beneath you.

You gulped. It was standard in the department to name planets after the astronomer that discovered them. You’d never had a planet named after you before. You’d only ever crunched numbers that Gunther had given to you to analyze spectra emissions. This was the first time you’d ever actually discovered something that hadn’t already been logged before it had landed on your desk.

And yet…

You closed your eyes. Suddenly you were back in the meadow at Jackson, tracing the wisps of the Milky Way with your finger as you and Ellie talked about the constellations. You saw the childish excitement on her normally stern features when she held the moon rock for the first time. You saw the wonder in her eyes when you told her a new space fact that she’d never heard before. That she’d never had the opportunity to learn before.

Your fingers moved before you could stop them, quickly tapping out the name “Ellie” into the box and hitting the enter button.

For the rest of the day, you regretted it. You tried not to think of her anymore. It was something that you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do after you spent the entirety of last summer miserable and doing nothing but turning over the memories in your mind until Dina made you do something with her.

It was difficult. You wanted to put it in the past, because you couldn’t think about her without thinking about how she probably wasn’t even alive anymore. Which didn’t make any sense. Nothing ever made any sense about Ellie. Even before you predicted she’d been bitten, she’d already been behaving erratically—not packing her things, not saying a real goodbye to Joel, catching more food than their small group of three could possibly need near the end. It was like she knew that she wouldn’t be able to go.

Which didn’t make any sense, because why go all that way knowing that it was for nothing?

Which made you think about how bizarre she was before leaving. How sad she seemed when she told you that she was going, like even then she knew that it wouldn’t happen.

And you hadn’t gotten sick from her, even though you should have. She’d kissed you long after she would’ve been bitten. And you knew from your frantic research upon arriving that you should have tested positive when Simon checked.

So why hadn’t you? And why had she?

It was things like this that could keep you up for days if you weren’t careful. It was awful, but sometimes you liked to believe that she had really been sick and had died shortly after. You had a vision of her killing herself before fully turning, and even though it hurt to imagine it, it was the most humane end of them all. If she was dead, then maybe there was an afterlife, and maybe a piece of her was watching over you. Maybe she was still with you. Maybe she finally was able to rest.

You hoped that little piece of her had seen her name the first planet with life after her.

A tiny smile crept across your face, but inside you felt devastated. You were going to mourn her again all day, like you always did when something reminded you of her. And you were probably going to dream of her, of her stupid grin and the way her hair felt when it tickled your face.

Pull it together you thought glumly. You had to be normal for your father’s retirement party that night, and you had just under 4 hours to do so.

“Ugh,” you said, staring at your phone as you stood with Dina near the door, both of you dolled up and ready to go to the party.

“That’s how I feel too,” said Dina. “I’m going to kill myself if anyone brings up anything about how hard my childhood must’ve been and how I’m doing such a good job adjusting one more time.”

“Ha,” you said. “Mom just texted me to tell me that we need to stop by theirs first.”

“Why? Aren’t they already at the venue?”

“Yeah,” you responded, wrinkling your nose. “But apparently she forgot her gift for him—some vintage Rolex she got restored for him.”

“A vintage what?”

“Stupidly overpriced wristwatch,” you explained.

It took less time than usual to get to their building. Despite it being at peak busy hour, the platforms seemed eerily empty.

“Is there some holiday going on?” Dina asked, sitting across from you so that you both had your own row of seats.

“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” you said, clapping your forehead with your hand. “Of course there is. That’s why my father held his retirement party today. It’s the first day of this festival that goes all week.”

“What’s it for?”

“I honestly don’t know the background,” you admitted. “Most people just use it as an excuse to get incredibly drunk. I think it has something to do with the founding. It’s, like, the only time that public intoxication is okay.”

“Damn,” said Dina thoughtfully.

“The trains will probably fill up on our way back,” you said, sighing. “Hopefully it won’t be too bad. Worst comes to worst we can walk.”

“It gets that bad?”

“There’s hardly standing room,” you said, recalling the last festival you’d been around for—the summer before you’d been catapulted to Jackson. “And it just reeks of drunk people. And you have to be really careful, because I hear the custodial staff has to work overtime to clean up all the vomit.”

“Gross,” said Dina. “And here I was thinking that it was just all being proper and mannerly.”

“Everyone has their limits,” you said lightly.

The penthouse felt just as oppressive as when you came for dinners, like you were walking into the lair of a dragon who was coming back at any moment. Chris was gone—likely participating in the festival herself—but you were surprised to see the figure of Petra bent in a corner as you entered, dusting the top shelf of their bookcase.

You and Dina politely greeted her before ascending the steps to your father’s office.

“Why did your Mom put it in here?” Dina asked as you began shuffling through papers to find the box that your mother had described over text.

“My father doesn’t work in here all too often,” you said, opening a few drawers and seeing no trace of the green and gold box. “He just uses it to file away things.”

“What does he do?”

“I actually have no clue,” you confessed. “He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t ask.”

“Do you want to see if we can find out?” Dina asked with a conspiratorial raise of her eyebrow as she motioned towards the filing cabinets. “Just a quick look. They’ll never know that we were here.”

You took a moment to consider. If Chris had answered the door to let you two in, you would’ve told her that you couldn’t, because she would definitely snitch if she knew. But she was nowhere to be seen, and Petra looked like she was busy enough downstairs.

“Sure. Why not.”

The first few cabinets held nothing interesting—just spending reports and copies of contracts that were written in legalese.

“It looks like he works with whoever supplies this place,” remarked Dina as you two skimmed the papers and saw records of contacts all over the continent, from the old continental US and South America, each detailing something boring about shipping dates and inventory.

But then came the third cabinet, with papers dated back before you were born with what looked like sketches of barren looking buildings and hand-scrawled notes.

“What are these?” you breathed, laying them out on the ground.

“I think…” Dina squinted. “I think that these might be manufacturing plants?”

“Oh?” You dug further around in the cabinet to see if you could find any further illuminating evidence.

“Yeah,” said Dina, staring as she began to flip through the pages already on the floor. “Holy shit, dude. This is…sort of messed up. Look at how small these living quarters are.”

You peered over her shoulder to see the architectural sketches of what looked to be more of what you imagined a prison to be. There were long bunks stacked on top of each other in what looked to be a never ending line, the mattresses barely even large enough to be considered twins.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you nearly leapt.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Petra. Her voice was low and raspy. You noted that it was the first time she’d ever spoken.

“Oh, uh—” You began to frantically gather the papers, hoping she hadn’t seen. Would she tell your parents? “Sorry if we disturbed your work. My parents, uh, they asked us to get something from—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.” You stared up at her steely green eyes, wondering what had compelled her to approach you and Dina. “Um, is there anything we can do to help you?”

“Don’t drink the bourbon,” she said, so quickly that it seemed to fluster her.

“What? Why?”

“Just don’t do it,” she said again. “Better yet, don’t drink anything except for the water.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling genuinely apologetic. “I’m not sure if I understand.”

Something crossed over Dina’s face, and suddenly something in her seemed to shift. Her features paled. She knew something you didn’t.

“I came from one of those places,” Petra said, motioning to the diagrams that you were staring at. “They’re not—they’re not somewhere you want to be. We all try our best to come here. That’s what they tell us, you know. Do well enough and you’ll get sent to where everyone gets to live a life of grandeur and luxury. But they barely send anyone, and when they do, they get shitty positions like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat as your understanding slowly grew. Of course. How had you been so stupid to think that wealthy people were ever going to have any of their kind work any real job?

“You two were the ones who came from outside, right?” Petra continued. When you two nodded, she crouched next to you. “And you were wondering what was going on with the prices?”

You nodded again, awestruck.

“Your Dad’s little spiel on it being about bad weather is bullshit,” she said, her words hard. “People are getting tired of this. They’re realizing they’re never getting out. You know what it’s like out there—it’s scary. It’s tiring. So many people get sick, so many die. So when people finally caught onto the fact that the work they’re doing is nothing but dressed up slavery and that their chances of getting out are basically zero, they start doing things to mess with the system.”

“Like contaminating the products?” Even as she said it, it seemed like Dina already knew the answer.

Petra just gave you two a long look.

“So that’s what he meant by quality control,” you said, the realization hitting you.

“Among other things.”

“How long do you think we have?” asked Dina.

“Not very long at all.”

“You guys can’t be serious,” you said, nervous laughter catching in your chest. “Do you seriously mean that Terranova isn’t going to be around for much longer? Is that what you’re saying?”

Petra shrugged and stood up. “Believe whatever you want. But from where I stand, it looks like there’s only two possible ways out of this situation. That is, unless you guys all become farmers.”

“I don’t think I’m following,” you said.

“Two options,” Petra said, sighing heavily. “Either we starve or we don’t. And the latter means taking a really big fucking chance on what we bring in.”

“But the system has worked for so long,” you said, more to yourself than anyone else.

“Too long,” she amended. “It was never sustainable. Maybe if you people had been okay with just eating native plants and wildlife. Maybe if you people were okay with changing your way of life. But no, you just had to have your fucking oranges from Florida and your coffee from South America.”

“Don’t lump me into this,” said Dina. “I just got here.”

Petra laughed, but it was a hard and sharp sound. “Well, chances are you won’t be here for long.”

“Hang on,” you said. “We’re still doing quality control inspections. The most likely scenario is that we’re going to have to cut down on imports—not that we’re about to go up in flames any minute.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” she said in that voice that told you that she thought that you definitely weren’t and didn’t see the point in arguing further. “Anyways, I’ve got to finish working so I can get home before dark. Be careful, okay?”

“You too,” you said. “And thanks for…not saying anything.”

It was a bit presumptuous considering that Petra hadn’t really given you any good reason beyond her word that she wouldn’t mention you lurking in your father’s cabinets, so you and Dina were thorough in carefully placing each file back into the correct place, just in case.

“Do you really think what she said is true?” you asked once you and Dina had located the watch and were on the metro once again.

Dina shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Look,” said Dina. “I know that this might be hard for you to hear, but I’m pretty sure this place lives off of what’s basically slave labor. If there’s any humanity left in the world, I would like to think that Terranova would eventually fall.”

You swallowed hard, then blinked. For a moment you thought you were going to throw up. “I never knew. I didn’t realize.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Dina’s voice was surprisingly patient. “You were a kid. But you’re not anymore, so it’s time to grow up and face the music.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either.”

The two of you fell into a silence as the train sped past empty platforms bathed in shadows and you thought and thought and thought.

There was just too much happening today. First Gunther’s lab, then Ellie, now your entire worldview toppling.

As the train windows continued to blur the background of the tunnels and empty stations, your mind spun with reflections of your childhood—of you enjoying simple luxuries that you didn’t realize came at the expense of others. That you didn’t even think to ask about. You’d mindlessly trudged along, eating your exotic fruits and drinking your expensive tea and wearing clothes built from indulgent fabrics just because you could. Even when Dina had asked where the oranges came from all the way back in Jackson, you hadn’t let yourself wonder. You hadn’t let yourself consider the possibility that it was anything less than the sanitized fairyland that you’d been brought up in—perhaps because you knew all along.

And that made it even worse.

Dina seemed to understand, sending you a few glances without prodding.

“Do you think we need to leave?” you asked, your voice just barely a whisper.

“Us leaving isn’t going to do anything,” Dina said, like she’d been expecting it. “And how would we even do that? It’s not like we can just charter a helicopter again to drop us off back in Jackson.”

Something twisted inside of you. “Oh, God. You’re right. We couldn’t even leave if we tried.”

And you might have to try, a sinister voice inside you whispered. What if Petra was right about the contaminated products? What if they missed something when checking imports?

You’d never been taught how quickly the fungus spread in the original outbreak, and you knew little about the normal amount of time it would take any sort of disease to infect the entire population. But you did know how densely populated everything was. How reliant everything was on a few strictly maintained channels, like public transportation.

It wouldn’t be hard for it to all come crashing down, really. It would just take the right place at the right time and—

“Don’t freak out, Y/N.” Dina laid a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll figure something out if it comes to that.”

You smiled at her, grateful that you didn’t even have to put your words into thoughts. “But if we can’t leave, what do we do? It’s not like we can just sit by and do nothing.”

Dina pulled her bottom lip under her teeth, worrying it before answering. “I don’t really think that we have a choice. Right now, at least. I don’t know if there’s anything that just the two of us can do.”

“I’ll find more,” you said. “I’ll talk to my professors—my friends at university—Simon—”

“Do you think that we’re the only two that know about this?” asked Dina. “Because I really don’t. Maybe your friends don’t. But anyone in the military and anyone who was around when this was founded has got to know. They just don’t care enough.”

Something slowly iced over inside of you as the implications sunk in.

Gunther had probably known. No, scratch that—he definitely did. He was an academic who had been in his 30s when the world fell apart. Any adult would have asked the same questions that Dina had upon arrival.

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure,” said Dina firmly. “Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Speaking of Simon,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “Did you ever get in touch with him? Is his family okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” said Dina. “He texted me back a bit ago. Said something about how he was just busy and that his family had been camping up in the mountains.”

You two faded into silence.

The retirement party came and went without much trouble. On the outside, at least. You were a mental wreck, barely able to keep it together as near strangers came up to you and expressed how much bigger you were since they’d seen you a decade and a half ago.

You noted with muted suspicion that Simon’s parents were nowhere to be seen amongst the crowd, not even by the lavishly decorated bar.

That night, you did dream of Ellie. It wasn’t the usual. Ellie wasn’t turning in front of you or bleeding or crying out in pain with a bite mark on her arm. She wasn’t yelling at you for failing her and letting her get bitten without even noticing. No; instead, she lay beside you in your meadow spot and talked to you.

And somehow that was so much worse.

“I named a planet after you,” you said, feeling hot tears pool at the seams of your eyes that you squeezed together to avoid sobbing. You knew you were dreaming. You always knew you were dreaming—seeing Ellie always seemed to prompt a degree of lucidity that was otherwise missing in your sleep.

“That’s really fucking sappy of you.”

“I miss you.” It came out like a compulsion, like you couldn’t stop it. “Are you here? Are you with me?”

“Y/N,” Ellie said, turning to look at you. The darkness made it difficult to see her whole face, but you could see the look of pity on her features in the gray-blue of the moonlight. “Of course I’m not here. Don’t be stupid. I’m dead.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re not. Like, if something happened.”

“Something did happen. I died.”

“Fuck you.”

She smiled sadly, and for a moment you thought her eyes looked more reflective than usual. “It’s not very helpful to think that way. And what can I tell you? I’m not even real.”

“I’d like you to try,” you whispered.

“Fine.” She sat up, pulling her legs into a lazy tangle as she looked at you. “What did you seriously expect, dude? You were never going to stay. I wasn’t going to go. If I hadn’t been bitten, I’m sure I would’ve orchestrated some way to get out of it. My family is back in Jackson. I liked you just fine, but you’re not my family. That shit’s deeper. Different.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. The sharp pain in your chest faded into a cold sense of familiarity. Then, because she wasn’t real and there was no reason to feel embarrassed about bearing your emotions:

“You feel more like family than anyone here.”

“Then that sounds like a you problem,” said Ellie, flatly. “I’m not gonna let you guilt trip me like this. Boo fucking hoo, you grew up richer than everyone else on Earth and had to deal with strict parents. Do you realize what actual, real problems are? What about the people who make your lifestyle possible, huh? What about them?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Then you’re fucking stupid.”

The tears were streaming freely down your face now. “I would do anything to be back with you. I wanted to stay. I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do with myself without you.”

“And I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

“Will you just say that you miss me too? You don’t have to mean it. I just want—I just want to hear it.”

“I can’t miss you. I’m not around anymore.”

Ellie watched as you curled in on yourself and sobbed so hard you thought you were going to be sick.

“You’re so weak,” she said after a few minutes. There was no venom in her tone. It was as if she was merely relaying something as inconsequential as the weather to you. “All you do is expect other people to care for you.”

Not real. Not real. Not real you repeated to yourself in your mind with growing franticness.

She wasn’t real. None of this was real. Ellie was never that affectionate with you, but this was another level. This was something personal.

“You said that being weak isn’t bad.”

“And you said that you were going to make sure I was going to get to Terranova.”

“And it’s not my fault that you decided to go gallivanting alone in the woods.”

“You could’ve tried harder.”

“I did as much as I could.”

“Sure you did.”

You bolted awake. The hair at the nape of your neck was wet with the slick of sweat. For a moment, you let yourself catch your breath, reorient yourself in your surroundings.

Your room. You were in your dorm room, with your space posters and your books. Ellie hadn’t been here. She hadn’t said that. You were okay.

A blaring noise jarred you as you realized that your alarm had made you wake up. Your alarm, because it was graduation day and you needed to be ready for a full day of festivities.

“Fuck,” you muttered, scrubbing your face with you hands. The last thing you wanted to do after this was have to see your parents and pretend like you like them for appearances.

She's gone. She's gone. She's gone you repeated in your head like a mantra. It was over. You shouldn’t have named that stupid planet after her, because she was gone and she always would be.

It would only be a matter of time until your parents would start asking you about your dating life, you realized as you brushed your teeth over the shiny white basin of your sink, the minty bubbles making your lips tingle. They’d been willing to entertain your reasoning of wanting to focus on your studies while you were at university, but you knew they’d been looking for prospective engagements behind your back.

It took you longer than usual to get ready, your mind wandering as you lingered in different corners of your apartment. You kept the lights off, opting to let the cool, gray daylight from the gloomy clouds wash the surfaces of your room.

“Hey,” said Dina, appearing from her own room and leaning against the doorframe.

“Good morning,” you greeted blandly, your attention on the necklace that just wouldn’t clasp around your neck.

“Looking spiffy,” she said. “By the way, did Simon say anything to you?”

“No.” You paused and turned to her, a frown on her face. As far as you were concerned, you really had no reason to be in contact with Simon beyond the general pleasantries.

“He just called me,” said Dina. “He seemed—I dunno. Like, weirdly frantic. He was saying that we need to stop by his.”

“His” was inconveniently on the opposite side of the city, even further past your parents’ place.

“Why? Pretty far for a short jaunt.”

“He was really insistent,” pressed Dina. Her long black curls were unruly, her skin sallow in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. She hadn’t been sleeping as well recently, it seemed, just like you since you’d spoken to Petra. “Maybe we should just stop by.”

“Did he say anything about why?”

“I tried to ask,” said Dina, frowning. “But the call dropped.”

“I hate how horrible service is in your room,” you said.

“Me too. Anyway, are we gonna see him?”

You shrugged. “I guess. We have some time. I’ll text him too just to see what’s going on.”

Dina was ready in just a few minutes, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over her shirt and stepping into her shoes.

“You look soooo cute,” she said, pinching your cheeks. “My little grad.”

You rolled your eyes, but the size of your smile ruined it.

For once in your life, you noticed that the university green outside of your apartment was suspiciously empty.

“Quiet,” Dina noted as you made your way to the metro. “It’s eerie.”

“People were probably partying all night,” you said. “Celebrating graduation and whatnot. I imagine everyone’s sleeping off a hangover instead of having to get up at the crack of dawn to voyage across the city.”

Dina held up her hands. “Gee. Sorry.”

The train was a little more populated. Some older Terranovans had newspapers cracked as they licked their fingers to turn the page. The silent hum of the train lulled you into another soliloquy as the tunnel plunged you into darkness.

You had to stop thinking about Ellie. You needed to move on, as awful as it was. You’d named a planet after her. She’d be forever remembered in the stars, and that should be enough. You didn’t need to keep dragging her memory behind you like a corpse, because she was dead and she was never coming back and she was—

On the platform?

Your mouth dropped as the doors of the train slowly rolled open to reveal a short girl with shoulder length auburn hair slowly ambling towards the platform. She was wearing a pale green short sleeve that had some sort of edgy spatter pattern on it—something that was very Ellie-esque. But something wasn’t…

It took you one breath to notice that neither of her bare arms had any tattoos. It took you another to see that what you had initially assumed to be a pattern was actually blood-soaked fabric formed from red rivelets that trickled from a wound on her neck.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, grabbing Dina’s hand. “Do you see—”

“Everybody run!” Dina screamed, leaping up from the train seat and dragging you with her as she bolted off the train and to the opposite exit.

The girl wailed and barrelled towards the train car, her eyes locking onto the nervous movement of the passengers. You froze. It was slowly becoming obvious that this wasn’t Ellie, from the slightly different set of her eyes to the unfamiliar button nose. But it was hard to not feel anything but sympathy for the monster before you. She was just a girl, probably younger than you.

“Fucking go, Y/N,” Dina snapped, yanking you harder and onto the platform just as Not-Ellie leapt onto one of the newspaper readers. “It’s not her.”

She didn’t need to tell you twice. In seconds you two had sprinted to the mouth of the stairs, feet pummeling against the pavement as the sounds of the carnage unfolding behind you followed.

You ran. You didn’t stop running, not even when the screams faded and you and Dina were blocks and blocks away, hidden in an alley. Not even when your lungs were so empty and sore that they felt like they were breaths away from breaking, not even when you were sure there was nothing left inside you.

Dina kept your pace, blindly following your lead as you darted in between streets and side alleys until you reached your parents’ apartment.

“Do you think there’s more?” you managed to whisper through heaving voices once you stood on the steps.

You and Dina hadn’t ran into anyone after the metro, undead or alive.

“Not here,” hissed Dina. “Inside first. Then we evaluate after we’re safer.”

For a moment, the phantom dread from your normal life spilled over and you were afraid of facing your parents. It was almost laughable—there were deranged infected hosts looking to eat your flesh roaming the streets, and you were worried about seeing your parents.

“I’d almost prefer out here, too,” said Dina, looking as if she’d read your mind.

The apartment complex was also empty and eerily quiet as you two ascended the steps. Dina had insisted that you took the stairs, pointing out that the elevator was far too risky.

“It might get stuck,” she’d whispered as she’d pulled you away from pressing the button. “Also—unnecessary noise.”

You nodded wordlessly, following her up the steps until you reached the top floor.

Still no one to be seen.

The spare key was still hidden under the flower pot, and the penthouse door swung open easily. You and Dina locked it behind you before dragging a small bookcase in front of it, piling on books until no one could physically break through.

“Sweep the apartment,” Dina said lowly, reaching over to grab the fireplace poker that was in the entryway. “Behind me until you get a weapon.”

For a few tense moments, you cowered behind Dina as she navigated you both into the dark, empty kitchen. Every breath that left your lips was shaky and uneven. Your fingers trembled around the handle of the butcher’s knife that you’d retrieved from the block.

Nothing was on the first floor.

Nothing on the second floor, either. There was no sign of your parents anywhere. By all accounts, it seemed that they’d just up and left for coffee. Which is probably what they’d done, given that your father had just retired and had nothing better to do.

“Fucking thank god,” you’d cried out once you’d swept the last room, collapsing onto the sitting room sofa. “Jesus Christ, Dina. What the fuck. I can’t believe I just—”

The words petered out as the adrenaline rush that had been keeping you at least someone composed dissipated, leaving you a shaking and inconsolable mess.

“We’re so lucky that we got out in time,” said Dina, her eyes blurry and unfocused.

You took a break from your crying to look at her. “What?”

“The doors close automatically,” she said flatly. “No motion sensor. If that girl had shown up any later—if we hadn’t noticed her in time—”

“We would’ve been stuck on the train with her,” you said, cold realization trickling into you. “Oh my god. That probably happened to the people on the train who weren’t quick enough.”

“Or didn’t know any better,” Dina added. “Didn’t you say that no one here really understands what the infection is? That it makes people hosts?”

Your heart dropped. “We’re so fucked. We need to get out.”

“Have a plane anywhere?”

“Oh, god, Simon,” you wailed. “He was probably—he must’ve known—his parents must have—”

“Let’s not dwell,” said Dina firmly, brushing her hands off on her pants. “Okay. Let’s take inventory of the situation. That girl likely wasn’t patient zero. Wherever she came from was around…8th street?”

You nodded.

“Right. 8th street, which is where the majority of non-student residential living spaces are. Chances are that if it wasn’t already, it’s all over that area. We came south, which is away from the most densely populated area and probably why we haven’t seen anyone else. We’re up high with what seems to be currently running water, no current activity in the building, and plenty of both perishable and nonperishable food.

“But this isn’t permanent. The power grid is going to fail soon, and plumbing is likely going to go next. And if we somehow make it long enough, any infected in the building are going to turn into clickers, and they’ll stop at nothing to get in. Our window is limited. If we wait to get out, they’re going to get stronger and grow in numbers. We need to play this right.”

“So what you’re saying is that if there’s any possible chance of escape,” you said, feeling the blood drain from your face, “That we need to take it.”

Dina nodded, her face hard.

“How long do you think we have until we have to make that choice?”

She winced. “Probably 2 hours ago. There’s likely enough infected scattered around the city after the metro incident that it’s all over now.”

Your stomach dropped.

“But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” said Dina. “It’s only going to get worse the longer we wait. So if that big fancy scientist brain of yours has any genius plans of how to get us out, please hurry it up and say so.”

“Well,” you said, your mouth dry as you brainstormed aloud, “We are at the southern tip of the city. We’re probably not all that far from the border. The problem would be getting across—and, of course, getting there in the first place. It’s designed to be deceptive so that raiders can’t find it.”

“We’re not going to cross the border,” said Dina. “We’re never getting across on foot unless it’s been destroyed. Simon told me about how it works. There’s quite literally zero chance unless we start tunneling underground.”

“So no crossing on foot,” you said weakly. “Noted. Well. Uh. Can you fly a plane?”

“Depends. Do you have one?”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Come on, Y/N. Think. There has to be another option.”

Another option. Another option. Think, think, think…

Scientist brain. Science.

Like your degree. Like the lab you’d been working in last year. Like the ill-fated experiment that you’d scrapped after the university cut funding for it after your accident.

Like the time that you’d actually succeeded in inventing teleportation, even if it was accidental.

Like the contraption that was likely gathering dust in an unlocked lab room just a few blocks away.

“Dina,” you said, “I’ve got it. But I need you to get me to Gunther’s lab.”

The only good thing about today was the fact that Gunther’s lab, which was normally an inconvenient train ride away from your apartment, was in fact within perfectly reasonable walking distance from your parents’.

There were many bad things, though. Namely the infected now roaming the streets. And the plumes of smoke rising in the distance, suggesting that the Terranovan authorities were attempting to quell the issue the old-fashioned way.

With two knives and a pistol in your hand (you’d never been more happy to see something actually useful in your father’s antique collection), you were at least feeling more prepared to slowly creep back down the staircase of the building and out onto the streets.

For the first two blocks, everything remained uneventful. You and Dina stuck close to the shadows, being careful not to speak, make any noise, or bump into anything noisy.

Then a girl that looked somewhat familiar to you came stumbling around the corner, cloudy orange saliva dripping from her ashen lips. She locked onto you and began to excitedly chitter, her jerky movements becoming more pointed as she started approaching.

“Knife,” Dina whispered, flicking your arm once she saw you raise your pistol. “Too loud.”

It was your first kill without the help of a bullet. As the blade slid across the throat of the girl, you realized where you recognized her from—she’d been one of the students you’d tutored back in high school. You’d always liked her. Her name had been Liesel, and she was one of your best pupils. She’d been so bright. You thought she’d end up skipping senior year and just coming with you to college.

Not anymore. You tried not to think too hard about the look you’d seen in her eyes right as you severed her carotid artery—something human, something cognisant. You couldn’t cope with what that implied.

Did Ellie look like that? No, surely not. It’d been over a year. She was likely a clicker by now, her freckled face entirely swallowed by the spore shards. But was she still in there, like Liesel had been?

The next ones were easier—random men whose eyes remained flat and flinty even as you sent them to their ends. By the time you and Dina had broken into Gunther’s lab, you were splattered in blood and assorted mystery fluids.

The sterile building was empty and deathly silent. Each step on the tiled floor echoed, the fluorescent lighting painfully bright.

“Are there any workers in here usually?” Dina asked, her voice low.

“Rarely,” you whispered back. “It’s normally totally empty beside me or Gunther.”

“I hope you’re right.”

A long screeching that sounded like it came from a few doors down made you freeze.

“Let’s move,” Dina said under her breath. “I don’t want to find out who that is.”

Gunther’s lab was nearly just as you remembered it. The only difference was the missing files on his desk, which suggested that he’d taken his work home with him.

As you’d hoped, the prototype you’d developed in your third year was under a white sheet, almost entirely untouched.

“This is what sent you to Jackson?” Dina whispered in wonder, her fingers hovering over the wires but not daring to touch.

In actuality, it was a very small contraption, just transistors and gates and wires that crossed over each other like veins. It had been intended for use on laboratory rats. It’d never been sized to people. But if this was your only shot…

“I can’t remember exactly what Gunther and I did to—”

Scratchhhhhh.

Your blood ran cold. Something was outside the door.

“I’ll cover it,” said Dina, her voice firm. Don’t worry.”

And you wouldn’t—not when there was one zombie against you and Dina, armed to the teeth.

“Uh, anyway—” You blinked as you stared down at the mess of wires. “Technically what happened was it short-circuit—”

Scratch scratch scratch

You gulped. “Um, like I was saying, it short—”

Scratchscratchscratchscratch

To punctuate the point, the door creaked and shifted.

Dina pressed her finger to her lips as she slowly crept over to the door, standing on her toes to look through the thin strip of plexiglass that ran across the top of the door.

For a moment, you thought that she’d frozen. Then she quietly stepped over to the desk, snatched the pen Gunther had lying around, and scribbled something onto it. She handed it to you, her finger still posed over her lips.

7 of them. All big. I think they followed us from the street.

Just as you finished reading it, the doorknob began to turn, back and forth and back and forth against the lock.

Dina pulled the note from your fingers to scribble something else out.

Don't say anything. Noise will send them into a feeding frenzy. Door won't hold long. Do whatever you need to fix it and get us out.

You nodded, your heart crawling in your throat. If you couldn’t figure out how to fix this in time…Gunther’s lab was on the 6th floor.

There were only 3 bullets in the pistol—you’d checked. And a kitchen knife was fine when you were out on the street facing one infected at a time, but 7 in an enclosed space was different.

You probably weren’t going to get out of here alive.

Not unless you pulled it together right now.

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to run through all possible ways to recreate the conditions that had sent you to Jackson. You needed that special iridescent wire, which you could see shoved into the corner. You needed a power source. You needed a working circuit board.

You had all of it. You could do this.

SIlently, you retrieved the spool of wire and began reattaching it to the board in the pattern you vaguely recalled from your work.

The lights flickered above, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from swearing out loud.

The power needed to hold. It needed to hold for just one more minute, just for a moment while you finished configuring the—

Your hand knocked the spool to the floor.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The thudding started slower but crescendoed into the sound of groaning wood as the infected outside began to pound at the door.

Dina waved a slip of paper in front of you with wide eyes that said Hurry the FUCK up!.

You sent her a desperate look back. Your hands were shaking so hard that it was a miracle you were even able to feed the end of the wire through the pliers to snap off the end. You dug your nails into the protective sleeve at the end to expose the tip of the wire.

The door held just until you plugged the wire into the input.

As it hummed to life, sputtering and sparking and shimmering in the air, the lights flickered once, then plunged you into darkness as the sound of wood splintering came from the door.

Someone—it was probably you—screamed as a crowd came barrelling through the door, all hunched shoulders and gaping maws.

Then you grabbed the hand of Dina and felt yourself tumble into nothingness.

The sky was clear and bluebell blue above you when you came to, your back pressed uncomfortably against the sun-warmed earth. Every part of you ached like you’d just been run over, just like it had that day one year ago that started it all.

You didn’t need to look around to confirm—you were certain of where you were. You just knew it.

A groaning sound made you shoot up, clutching at the pistol in your hand.

Dina was sprawled on the ground next to you, rubbing her forehead with her hands.

“We did it,” you said, astonished. “We actually did it. We got out.”

“And you launched us out to Jackson.” Dina was sitting up now, looking around with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ. Are those things coming with us?”

“I don’t think so,” you said blandly. Your hands were still shaking, just as they had in the lab moments before.

The backpack you’d packed with supplies lay strewn on the ground, covered in the dust of the clearing.

“Are we—”

“I think so,” you said. “Funny how it sent us to the same place it sent me. I guess we’ll never figure out how, though.”

“Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you acclimated to the bright Wyoming sun, the warmth of the air against your skin.

Your heart lurched as the implications sunk in. Now that you couldn’t pretend like Jackson had been some sort of distant memory, you were going to mourn Ellie all over again whether you liked it or not.

“It’s going to be weird without her.” Dina was apparently on the same page.

You choked back the sob that came up, rubbing your eyes angrily. You would not cry right now, not when you had more important things to attend to.

“She really did love you, you know,” Dina continued, also apparently oblivious to the fact that you were just barely holding it together. “Even if she never said it. I’ve never seen her like that around anyone. I hope you haven’t been beating yourself up over what happened.”

You sent her a tight smile. It was odd, talking about Ellie like this with her. You’d never had before. It was one of those topics that you both knew to just avoid. “I just hope Joel is alright. I can’t imagine how difficult that would be—losing two daughters just like tha—”

A twig snapping in the woods sent you into silence, your hand drifting back down to your pistol as you spun around.

For a moment, all you could hear was the breath that hitched in both your and Dina’s throat. Then a girl with short brown hair burst through the tree line, her gun set on you.

“Ellie?” you gasped.

She fell still, mouth agape and eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.

“Ellie, what the fuck?” said Dina, recovering much quicker than you. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I—” Ellie dropped her pistol so it pointed to the ground, staring at Dina incredulously. “What are you doing here?” Then she rounded on you. “What did you do? You promised to stay in Terranova.”

You couldn’t answer. You were just so starstruck that all you could was stare, taking in everything about her. She was certainly Ellie—with her stupid little flashlight on her backpack strap and her fern tattoo and the perpetual grumpiness etched on her face. It was strange to think that you could have mistaken anyone else for her.

“Well?” she pressed, stepping closer, her mouth in a hard line.

“Terranova fell. It’s gone. I did what I had to do to get us out.” The words came out quietly. Then, without thinking: “You’re alive.”

“Long story,” said Ellie. “I think the scanner was defective.”

“That sounds like a pretty short story.”

She stared at you with an expression of such odd devastation that you felt your heart drop.

Dina jumped to her feet and launched herself at Ellie, throwing her arms around her neck and laughing hysterically. “I can’t believe it. I just—I just—you’re alive. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

Ellie, for her part, stood mostly still, awkwardly patting Dina on the back until she was released. “I’m glad you are, too.”

You tried not to feel jealous, but it was hard not to. Dina could jump into Ellie’s arms and tell her nice things like that without having to think twice because they’d always been friends. You did, because you weren’t sure if Ellie would want that anymore.

You didn’t try to touch her as she walked you and Dina back. She followed suit, not even trying to speak to you.

By the time you were walking through the walls of Jackson and waving to the gaping passerbys who were shocked at your return, you felt like you were going to be sick.

Ellie was alive. She’d never been dead, and you’d left her out here while you and Dina got to eat fancy Brazilian chocolates and Floridian oranges and artisanal bread. You’d been actively trying to forget her instead of trying to find her.

And now she was here, next to you. And she didn’t seem even remotely interested in you. But could you blame her? It had been a year. You’d left her to come back to Jackson all by herself. She didn’t have any reason to wait around for you. She’d probably found someone else. Or gotten back together with Cat.

And who were you to think that she’d even be interested in you if there wasn’t the guaranteed casualness from a definite end date?

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Joel appeared on the front porch as you and Dina approached with Ellie flanking you, his eyes wide.

“Joel!” you cried out, your angst briefly forgotten.

His eyes darted between the three of you, his face awash with shock. “Did ya just get sick of living there or something?”

You looked down and surveyed your outfit. You were clearly wearing something that was intended to be formal—a flowing graduation dress—but you were splattered with blood and viscous mystery substances and covered in a healthy layer of dirt. You’d clearly gone through some shit.

You were struggling to come up with a response other than “hey” when you were reminded of something you’d shoved into your bag while you’d been preparing to leave your parents’ penthouse.

Feeling smug that you’d managed to remember, you reached into your pack and fished around until you found what you were looking for.

“We just figured you’d be almost out of this by now,” you said dryly. The value-sized bag of coffee beans dangled from your fingers, its maroon packaging catching in the sun.

His face split into a wide grin as he shook his head in disbelief. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I guess I’ve got to tell Tommy that we don’t have to ration anymore. C’mon, let’s get you settled.”

Joel insisted that you move back into your old room instead of the vacant cottage down the street, which was equal parts touching and equal parts terrifying. Ellie lingered by the doorway as you unpacked, disappearing down the hall when you finally lifted your head from your few belongings to say something to her.

You let out a long, labored exhale, dropping onto your bed and curling your knees up to your chest. You’d since changed and showered the dirt and blood off, shed your tattered graduation dress and left it gathered in the corner like a snake’s molt. The setting sun filtered through the curtains, turning the walls golden.

You didn’t know what to do. That you could even come back to Jackson had been a thought you hadn’t dared to consider until this morning, when there were no other options. That Ellie was still alive—well, you hadn’t had any time to strategize or plan for that one. You were still reeling from seeing her for the first time in a year, all summer freckles and flyaway hairs escaping from a loose hairband.

She’d looked even better than you’d remembered. There were certain parts of her that you realized you’d forgotten—like the scar on her eyebrow, the way her voice sounded. It made you feel nauseous, knowing that despite your best efforts, you hadn’t been able to keep the real Ellie alive in your head.

You’d already eaten something with Tommy and Maria, who had been insistent on hearing from you and Dina about the events in Terranova. Joel had left you to your own devices with instructions to see him tomorrow to figure out work after you’d had a decent rest, so there was really no reason to go roaming around hoping to run into Ellie.

But you really wanted to. You checked the clock again, seeing that it was already past 9. Dusk had already fallen upon Jackson, the setting sun now just a suggestion of a golden line on the horizon.

You had a feeling you knew where she was.

The meadow was just as lush and green as you remembered as your feet carried you across the grass. It seemed that really nothing had changed—except for the horses in the distance, where you could see a small foal beside a chestnut mare that you were pretty sure was Shimmer.

“Hi,” you said, settling down next to Ellie’s spot under the tree.

If she was surprised to see you, she didn’t show it. She just sighed and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt.

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on the darkening sky. “I just wanted to come find you to tell you that I understand if you don’t—want me like that anymore. I’ll leave you alone if you want me to.”

Even when she took her time responding, you didn’t dare look her way.

“Is that what you want?” You couldn’t quite decipher the tone she’d used.

“Obviously not,” you said mildly. “I would never want that.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze dropping to meet hers. You were just about to speak when—

“The scanner wasn’t defective,” said Ellie. Her voice was soft, her own eyes falling to look at her tattooed arm.

“Of course it was,” you said, feeling very confused as to why she was suddenly detouring into something so unrelated. “If it wasn’t, you’d be dead already.”

“I’ve been bitten twice.”

You blinked, sure you’d heard her incorrectly. “Sorry?”

“I’ve been bitten twice,” said Ellie again, this time with more conviction. “That’s why the scanner came back red. There was nothing wrong with it.”

“Then how…” Your words trailed off.

She didn’t let you ponder long. “I’m immune.”

Immune.

You closed your mouth—it’d been hanging open unceremoniously for a moment—and tried to fit this very startling fact in with everything else you knew about her. What did being immune mean? And why was she telling you now?

“You knew from the start that you couldn’t come with me to Terranova,” you realized aloud.

Ellie was gnawing at her bottom look as she looked back at you. You noted that she didn’t offer up any corrections.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice. “Why did you lie to me like that?”

“I found out that I was immune when I was back in Boston,” Ellie said, the words spilling out of her. “I was in this abandoned mall with my best friend—Riley. She told me she was leaving to be a Firefly, and I begged her to stay and kissed her and for a moment I was so sure that something was going to change between us—something for the better. But then…” She waved her tattooed arm in front of her. “We both got bit. I survived. She, obviously, did not.”

Something deep inside you twisted as you tried to imagine how traumatizing that must’ve been for someone that couldn’t have been older than 14.

“And so I thought that maybe, you were my chance to right what I’ve done wrong,” continued Ellie. Even though she wasn’t looking at you anymore, you could see the reflective sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’ve gotten to live while so many other people have died. I just can’t handle another. It’s not fair of me to keep someone here when there’s somewhere safer for them. It’s selfish, and I’ve been that enough.”

It was as if you’d found the last puzzle piece for the jigsaw of Ellie Williams. All this time, you’d been struggling in your attempts to understand why she was pushing you away—and why she changed her mind so suddenly.

Now you got it. Ellie had come into this knowing that she’d likely never see you again. She’d been betting on it, even. It was all some convoluted way for her to set things right in her head, for her to forgive herself for Riley and whoever else she’d lost.

“You could have told me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I would have understood.”

Ellie sent you a sad smile, shaking her head. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that I’m immune. It’s one of those things that only Joel and Maria and Tommy know about. No one else. They’d fucking kill me if they found out you knew.”

“I’m really sorry.” The fabric of her t-shirt was soft under your fingers as you rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m really sorry for how much of an asshole I was to you,” said Ellie. You didn’t miss the way her eyes had widened when you’d reached out to touch her. “I didn’t want to be that way. I always wanted more. I just couldn’t handle having that, knowing that you were going to leave anyway. I thought it’d be easier for the both of us if you thought I was awful.”

“Didn’t work very well.”

“Clearly.”

“I forgive you,” you said, moving your hand so you could thread your fingers into the loose strands that she hadn’t pulled into that baby bun she always wore.

Instead of kissing you like you thought she might, she threw her arms around you and crushed herself against you, burying her face into your neck.

You held her there, feeling the way her frame trembled under the weight of a sob and tracing patterns across her back.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your chin rested atop her shoulder. “I thought about you every day.”

Ellie clung to you harder as you shifted.

“I’m really sorry,” she said again, muffled against your neck. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“I’m not.” You finally pulled away so that she had to look you in the eyes. Under the soft bath of moonlight, her green eyes glowed. “Terranova shouldn’t have existed in the first place. I’m glad that I got out. And I’m even more glad that it brought me back to you.”

Her hand found yours, your fingers tangling.

“I used to spend all my free time wondering what you were doing up North,” said Ellie. You felt her thumb brush across the top of your hand. “I thought that maybe if I imagined you happy, it’d be easier.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Lots of studying, I assumed. And going to fancy events for rich people, eating all that expensive shit that the rest of the world can’t have.”

“Not far off,” you admitted. “But you missed how much time I’d spend wondering about you. I dreamt about you all the time. Sometimes I’d see people who looked similar to you and it’d ruin my whole day. I couldn’t believe that you were gone. I think that deep down I knew that you weren’t.”

She squeezed your hand. When you looked down at where you were touching, you noted how there wasn’t such a stark difference between you and her anymore. The doll fresh-out-of-the-box skin had disappeared in favor of scars and marks collected from your time in the real world.

“I really thought you’d be safe there,” said Ellie.

“You don’t need to worry about me like that anymore,” you told her, cupping her face with your free hand. Her eyelids fluttered half-closed as she leaned into the contact. “You’ve done enough. You can care about me without taking responsibility for everything bad that ever happens to me. You deserve to have something good without suffering because of it. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

“Not anymore,” she agreed.

When you kissed her, it felt like coming home. There was something so achingly familiar in the slope of her neck, the slight chapped-ness of her lips, the almost silent click of her jaw as her mouth parted with a gasp as your hands twisted in her hair.

You weren’t quite sure how you managed a year without it.

The skin of her neck was just as soft as you remembered against your lips, her response just as reactive.

“What’s this?” you asked, pulling away to point at what looked like a small tattoo on the side of her neck. You hadn’t noticed it before—her hair had been covering it.

“Oh.” Ellie looked sheepish. “My free birthday tattoo from Cat. It’s the moon.”

“I see that,” you murmured, brushing her hair back more intentionally to get a better look at it. “Why that phase?”

“It’s the phase it would’ve been on the day we met,” said Ellie. She was bright red now. “Don’t fucking laugh. I know that it’s stupid. Shut up. Stop!”

You desperately tried to stop your giggles, schooling your face into something straight and no-nonsense.

“I spent so long wondering if you even liked me,” you told her. “And now you’ve gone and gotten a tattoo dedicated to me. I feel so validated.”

Ellie rolled her eyes.

“I have you beat, though,” you said, quieter now.

She looked back at you, her brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“When it comes to grand, stupid gestures,” you explained, your finger pointing up to the sky in the general area that you’d collected your data from. “There’s a planet named Ellie up there now.”

Her jaw dropped for just a moment. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” Now you were feeling slightly self-conscious.

“You would do something like that,” Ellie muttered, more to herself than anything. “A whole fucking planet.”

You let her drape an arm around you, pulling you into her until your head fit into the space between her shoulder and her chin.

“So,” Ellie said, and you could feel the words vibrate in her diaphragm, “What now?”

“What do you mean, what now?”

“I mean, what are you gonna do now that you’re stuck here with me for the foreseeable future?”

“Enjoy being stuck with you,” you said. “Maybe get a matching tattoo. Give you the piece of the meteorite I nabbed from the display case in my lab. But mostly spend my time bothering you.”

When she didn’t answer, you shifted so you could look up at her. She was already looking back, her eyes soft and the corners of her lips pulling into two dimples.

“Is that alright with you?’ you ventured.

Her arm tightened around you, fingers gently pressing into the flesh of your forearm like she still couldn’t quite believe you were there.

“You can be so fucking stupid sometimes,” she said. “I get a tattoo for you and you’re still asking if I want you around.”

“It’s been known for you to make rash decisions,” you offered dryly. “I didn’t want to jump to any assumptions.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling down at you, eyes awash with the reflections of the stars above.

Slowly, you reached up and touched her face again, letting your fingers relearn her features, tracing the paths created by freckles—just like you had in her bed all those months ago.

But unlike last time, she didn’t stop you. She didn’t do anything except let you. There was something in her demeanor, something that was fragile and vulnerable and everything that you wanted her to be with you.

“Is this going to be enough for you?” she asked suddenly, her voice raw.

“What do you mean?” Your fingers paused and rested at her cheekbones.

“It’s just—” She blinked hard and cast her gaze up to the sky. “You grew up so differently than me. I’m not going to be able to give you that fancy Terranova life. Are you sure this is going to make you happy?”

“Yes.”

She looked at you, an eyebrow raised skeptically. Your hands moved to cup her face, fingers threading back into her hair.

“Don’t make that face,” you chided.

“I just find it really hard to believe.”

You took in a breath. Perhaps more elaboration was in order.

“I’ll put it like this,” you said. “I spent most of my life thinking I needed to be something extraordinary to be happy. I put so much time into trying to be special and nothing I did ever felt like it was enough. But then I met you, and one day I realized while I was here that I didn’t need that anymore. Just being around you makes me more content than I’ve ever been. I don’t want to be like what I was before. I would consider it my greatest success if I got to lead an ordinary life with you.”

You took her brief silence as an opportunity to press your lips to the corner of her mouth.

“Believe me now?” you asked.

Ellie nodded, leaning in to drop an affectionate kiss at the top of your nose.

And as you sat there, nestled into the warmth of her side and craning your head up to the sky, you’d never been more sure of yourself.

This would be more than enough.

final a/n: ok so some apologies are in order for this one! first of all, sorry for aborting jj lmao. i just couldn't envision doing light speed travel with a baby strapped to dina. big apologies for not including a final smut scene. i actually had one semi-drafted out because i wanted to write one where ellie bottomed bc i feel like it would really hammer in that she was finally choosing to be vulnerable, but the shift in the scene tone just didn't sit right with me. sometimes i write bonus scenes for big fics like this, so if there's enough interest i might write a short one shot of the scene i scrapped/other scenes that i also scrapped. also, speaking of things i scrapped: i had an alternate ending in mind where joel actually did die and ellie went on her seattle rampage + y/n realizes she's alive and tries to sneak out with dina to find her. i might end up writing that one too, depending on interest! anyway, thank you all for coming along on this journey with me so far! it's not totally over yet...the epilogue is still in the works! i appreciate hearing what you guys think of this and hope you all enjoyed !!!

also idk if this is important to bring up but i will say that i didn't realize the kind of message i'd be sending when i wrote a protagonist who's from a place like terranova—exoplanet isn't meant to be some sort of piece that makes you empathize with ignorant beneficiaries of slave labor...it's just the way it shook out and for that i'm sorry 😭

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n

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sarahowritesostucky · 8 months

Text

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 2 The Princess

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 4331

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly. Bucky and Lena’s relationship was partly inspired by that cuckoo half-sibling couple in The Crow 😅

Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!

Brighton Beach has always belonged to the Mob.

Decades ago, it’d been the Odessa Ukrainians who reigned supreme, but Bucky’s father was a weak man, and once he’d died and Bucky had taken over leadership of the Rusă-Română Bratva at nineteen, things had changed.

In the ensuing eighteen years, he’s not only seen to it that his faction rises to the top, he’s also been ruthless enough to ensure that their dominance is never challenged, his position as the Dragon of Hydra firmly cemented.

The Dragon’s Den is one of many businesses under his direct control. It’s a popular club in its own right, located on a busy strip of similar nightlife lining the two hundred block of Neptune Ave., and acting as the unofficial epicenter of Hydra operations.

Extra bouncers have been placed outside tonight to weed out the undesirables, but even with the modified guest list due to the night’s more … illicit activities, it’s still as packed as ever. The downstairs is filled with bodies, booze, and music in no time.

At first glance, it really could be any other night, but look a little further, and the incongruencies are readily apparent. Bucky’s had everything set up in the back, a space no more than ten feet by ten. It’s just a corner, not some stage or grandiose point of focus. It’s not like they have the lights all trained on them or anything dramatic like that. Viewing isn’t mandatory by any means. … But what he’s doing is also right there for anyone who wants to look over and see. And he’s under no illusion that every single soul present doesn't know what’s going on—either because they’re watching it, or because they’re making sure to pointedly not watch it. Tongues have been wagging ever since they'd tied up Gleb and dragged Lena out.

He starts with Gleb, putting all his “tools” within view of the poor bastard but not using much more than his fists and his words. He gets a gut punch in, breaks a finger or two. Kid stuff. Bucky’s never been overly enthusiastic about torture, but you don’t hold control over any faction of organized crime if you can’t at least make yourself comfortable with it. Bucky can appreciate it for what it is, and for the nastier stuff he’s got his specialists. Besides, sheer terror and anticipation can be just as crucial to putting on a good show as anything else. Gleb’s been a crying, sniveling mess since three minutes in, so Bucky’s halfway disgusted and halfway satisfied. Mostly, he’s just discouraged that his little one has been letting such a weak man stick his prick in her. Ugh.

He takes his time, stepping away to have a drink or to chat with someone every once in a while. Bucky usually enjoys his Friday nights lounging and socializing amongst his friends and associates, after all, and he’s not about to sacrifice his entire evening to Gleb.

The Den is Bucky’s home away from home. He even has private quarters above—an amenity he’s taken frequent advantage of after many a night spent overindulging. In his youth, when he’d been new to power and Polina had been nothing but an irrelevant child of his father’s second wife, the luxury accommodations had hosted Bucky’s escapades with dozens of the most beautiful women that Brooklyn had to offer.

But that lifestyle changed once Lena came of age eight years later.

Bucky hasn’t touched another woman—hasn’t wanted to touch another woman—in the decade since, his obsessive love for her often resisted but always returned, despite her token protests. It’s an open secret, considered fodder for gossip amongst the wives. Bucky doesn’t see why anybody should be shocked. He’s always wanted things that he knows are off limits. His little one included.

She’s finally back, and Bucky is more thrilled at that than he is about anything else. Of course Gleb’s betrayal can’t go unaddressed, but Bucky’s working him over more out of obligation than any true recreational interest. He’s got him tied to a pipe. The man is panting and breathing open-mouthed at this point, some of his blood on the plastic sheeting from the fist he’d taken to the nose to start off their evening together. He’s sweating through his undershirt like a pig.

Bucky himself has been naked from the waist up ever since Natasha returned to deliver the requested transfer sheet and blithely remarked that he was “seeping” through his shirt. Normally, aftercare would see her slathering him in ointment and taping bandages over the raw skin, but Nat’s pissed at him and she’s not offering, and he’s pissed at her for being pissed at him, so he’s not asking. He just chucks the shirt when it becomes a lost cause to the blood, plasma and sweat. Whatever. It's hot in here, anyways. And he knows Lena is looking her fill whenever he turns back on her to go focus on Gleb, which is even more satisfying.

It’s because of her that he hasn’t done anything too gruesome. As a rule, Bucky usually leaves the worst of his torturing to those who have a better taste for it (the widows). And while he fully intends to make Gleb hurt before he’s given his very own pair of cement shoes, Bucky still doesn’t want to do anything too traumatizing in front of his main audience.

He walks back over to where Steve has her. He’s been holding her still against his chest, Bucky’s own tie looped around her neck and gripped in Steve’s fist behind her back, his other hand wrapped around her waist to keep her still as she plays her part in the demonstration.

Bucky stands mere inches in front of her and sips his drink, letting his eyes rake over her form. “You haven’t been eating enough, sweet pea. We’ll have to fatten you back up.”

Her lip curls. “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Takes one to know one.” He leers at her even longer for the snark, letting his free hand trail lightly along the curve of one silk-covered breast. She’s small. Barefoot like this she barely comes up to his chin. But she’s got a fat ass and a bitty waist that’ve always made Bucky want to do bad things to her, even when they were younger. Lena is blonde like her mother had been, with pale skin and other Nordic traits that set her apart from the darker hues and Slavic features that most of Bucky’s family sport.

How could he ever have been expected to keep his hands off of something so tempting?

She’s beautifully disheveled right now: hair fallen loose from however she had it up before Belova tranqued her and Pietro stuffed her on a jet, body barely kept decent in some slip of a dress that Steve’s put her in, tears already making her mascara run in grey-black tracks down her cheeks. Bucky’s always had a kink for watching pretty girls cry. “You should smile,” he tells her, mocking her by sticking his lip out in a pout. “People’ll think you aren’t having fun. This is your party, after all.”

“What are we celebrating?” she says, her effort at sass somewhat hindered by the waver in her voice. She’s not as brave as she wants him to think she is, but the front she insists on putting up makes Bucky’s heart twinge in fondness. His stubborn puppy.

“We’re celebrating your glorious and long-awaited homecoming, of course,” he coos. “All these nice folks? They showed up just to welcome you back.” He leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering there to whisper right against her skin, “And I missed you too, sweet pea. You got no idea how much.” He feels her shiver before she hisses at him, like a cat. He pulls back and gives her an assessing frown. “You’re so uptight,” he scolds. “Never did know how to let go and have a good time. I’ve always had to help you relax, haven’t I?”

Her pale skin colors beautifully. It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does she tries to hit him where it hurts, simpering a snotty little, “Oh, I don’t know. I was having a pretty good time on your yacht.”

Anger sweeps through Bucky, white hot and thrilling. Little Polina Barnes thinks she’s good at pissing him off. She is, but she’s got no idea how much her brattiness turns him on, too. If she did, she might think twice about opening her smart mouth (and Bucky can’t have that, he’d be so bored). Aside from her new penchant for leaving the flipping country, he’s always kind of enjoyed the thrill of hunting her down and dragging her naughty butt home.

But Belize is taking it too far. His yacht is taking it too far. And letting another man touch her is way beyond too fucking far. Bucky needs to reel his Little one in.

He sets the rim of his glass to her lips, tutting when she only glares up at him. “Don’t be that way, Lena. C’mon, have some. I want to see you loosen up a little.” She just presses her lips tighter together, and Bucky feels his cock thicken in his pants as he imagines using it to pry that prissy mouth wide open. He gives her a knowing smile. “No? Hm.” He finishes off the drink himself and sets it aside. He grabs her face and thumbs roughly over her lower lip, smearing the matte red of her lipstick down onto her chin. “Have it your way, Puppy. Steven?” he says, not looking at the man holding her still. “You’ve got our party favors?”

“In my left pocket,” Steve says, not reaching for them himself because he’s holding Lena’s waist and the tie wrapped around her throat. He’s not choking her, but the pressure on her neck has another effect. Bucky knows a few dirty secrets about his Little one that he’s sure she wishes he didn’t, namely that having a firm grip around her neck gets her wet. Bucky smirks and keeps his eyes on hers as he takes the liberty of reaching around her body and slipping his hand into Steve’s pocket. His fingers find the small shapes and close around them.

“Here we go,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back and holding the items up for Lena to see, chuckling when her face goes slack in shock. Her cheeks darken in a fierce blush and she starts tugging against Steve’s hold with renewed effort. It gets her nowhere of course, and Bucky and Steve share a brief amused look from over her shoulder. Bucky steps closer and pins her between them, hands stroking over her shoulders. “You didn’t think I brought you here just to watch Gleb get his, did you sweetheart? Oh, no.” He shakes his head slowly. “Mm mn. You’re gonna get yours, too.” He puts his lips to her ear and looks in Steve’s eyes while he whispers, “How long do you think before you’re cumming in front of all these people?”

Her struggles intensify, and she tries to head butt Steve behind her, but of course she’s too short for it. She huffs when his grip only tightens and she runs out of steam. “Ugh!”

“Don’t fight it,” Steve tells her, and she sneers back at him.

“Still playing the loyal dog, Steven?”

“Eh, I prefer attack dog. But sure.” He winks at Bucky and bares his teeth in a fake snarl. Bucky laughs. He really does love Steve.

“Ugh! Lemme go, you pathetic dumbass!”

“Hey. Don’t you be mean to Steve. He’s only doing his job.” Bucky puts the smallest of the three party favors in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue and gripping Lena’s jaw hard to force her to open up for him. He shoves his tongue in, delivering the pill against her will and moaning theatrically to make her even more outraged. He holds her mouth shut after, pinching her nose until she finally capitulates and swallows. Only then does he allow her to have air, tutting in mock sympathy as she regains her breath. “What’s the matter, puppy? What’s got you so worked up, hm? I know it’s not whatshisface back there. Is it just being back home?” He cradles her face and murmurs tenderly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Her face crumples and she sobs a little, the sound hardly audible in the room's loudness, but Bucky couldn’t possibly miss it when he’s this tuned in to her. He kisses her again, this time very gently, letting their lips rest together for a moment afterwards; and he can feel the way she has to fight the urge to lean into it, to seek more. She absolutely despises him, but she has an enduring need for him as well, and she’s never been very good at hiding it.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathes, his own desire winning out over the game for just a moment. “Please. What’s it gonna hurt to admit it?

“I hate you.”

“Mm. I know, Love, I know.” He brushes his lips against hers. “But you missed me all the same. Missed this.” He lets his hand trail down between her legs, working up underneath the silk of her slip. She whimpers and begs tearfully,

“No! Bucky, don’t.”

"Don't?" His fingers trail over the seam of her panties and he hums knowingly. "Your fancy panties are getting wet, Sweetheart. Did you wear these for me, or for your loverboy back there?"

“People will see!” she hisses.

“So? Let them see. You think anyone's going to step forward and stop me? Hm? Think somebody in this room is going to tell their дракон that he can’t touch what’s his? Because it’s what? Indecent?” He chuckles, thoroughly enjoying her humiliation. “Mm mn. You know that’s not happening, Princess.”

“Don’t. Please. Just … not here. Take me upstairs.”

For a second, Bucky actually pulls back to look at her face. But then he sees what it is she’s uncomfortable about, her pained expression flicking over to Gleb’s bound form behind them. Bucky feels jealous rage shoot through him. He’s always been meaner when he’s jealous. “You don’t want him to see?” he grits, then forces himself to soften his tone. “Oh, no no no. You can’t hide it anymore, puppy. Not from him or anyone else. I know what you like,” he reminds, cruel and quiet. “You know just how well I know.”

He’d bugged her devices starting when she was fifteen. He knows every dirty thing she’s ever watched, from the time she first learned how to touch herself. And his Little one knows this because he’s told her. It’d been the most satisfying moment of his life, when he’d told her that he felt the same way and watched the shock and mortification bloom on her face. That was the day he’d finally made her his—though he’d forced her to admit every single one of her filthy little fantasies out loud before he laid her down and took her virginity.

“I know how you like to feel owned,” he whispers in her ear, thrilling at the hitches it elicits in her breathing. “How you like to feel watched while powerful men touch you. What better way to satisfy those urges than by being taken by the Dragon, right in front of all his men?”

“Please don’t. You can’t.”

“What can’t I do?” he purrs, and she cries softly,

“You can’t, please. Because they know …”

“They know what?” he coaxes, wanting her to say it. He peeks up and looks at Steve from over her shoulder. “Know that you’re my sister?” he whispers. Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky's mouth curls. “Well, that shouldn’t bother you either, puppy. You and I both know your affinity for all those naughty step-sibling videos.” She whines miserably and he hushes her. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed. It’s actually a really popular genre. Number … seven, on Pornhub?” He kisses her cheek. “Right up there with M/F/M threesomes.”

Adorably, her breath catches and she stiffens against Steve’s body, now even more aware of his hulking form behind her.

Bucky hums, pleased. “There’s no need to be ashamed.” He peels her panties to the side and slips the tip of one finger along her lips. She’s not exactly soaked, but she’s not completely dry, either. “Of course, actual brother-sister incest isn’t quite as popular, but we know there’s a niche market for everything, don’t we?” Lena makes an outraged little sound that goes straight to his dick. He leans back enough to watch her expression as he holds up the second of the party favors for her to see. It’s white and thin, less than two inches long, and shaped like an itty bitty torpedo. “Something else to help you loosen up,” he tells her gleefully. “Do you want to take a guess where this one goes?”

She makes an adorable ‘meep’ of a sound and clamps her legs closed over his hand. “Don’t.”

He laughs. “Aw, good guess, little sis’, but not quite.”

“Step-sister,” she corrects shakily. “Bucky ...”

He smiles as he tries to read her, confused and tentative at first, but then growing into something devious. “Oh, I see. You’re honestly embarrassed about that? That people know we grew up together, shared the same house? Mmm." He licks his lips. "That’s not all we shared.”

"Stop it."

He watches her, thrilling in a huge surge of lust mixed with something dark and nasty. “Wow,” he astounds, goading her. “Oh boy. Just think what you’d do if they all knew the truth.”

“Bucky please.”

“Steve knows, you know. I told him forever ago.” He watches her eyes go wide and her body stiffen against Steve’s.

“You … you told …”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet pea. He thinks it’s hot, too.” Lena looks honestly too shocked for words, and Bucky leans down to give her an absolutely filthy kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and holding her jaw there for it while, between her legs, he drags the suppository through her moist folds. She squeaks, and he pulls back. He lets her see him handing it to Steve. “Will you do the honors, pal?”

“What?” Lena breathes, lost. The sweet, dumb thing.

Steve keeps hold of the tie wrapped around her neck, but he has to let go of her waist to get at her. Bucky’s able to grab her just as she starts to try and fight it. “Ah ah ah, hold still,” he coos, yanking her wrists down at her sides in an iron grip. He steps even closer, squeezing her between his body and Steve's to subdue her wiggling, pressing his thigh forward between her legs. She freezes when her fighting just puts more pressure on her clit, and Bucky hums, pleased. “Good. Be a good girl now, Lena. We don’t want this to hurt.”

She goes straight back to struggling, and Steve shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. Bucky growls and sticks his face in her hair, warning lowly, “You know: there’s a syringe of morphine waiting in the wings for your boy back there.” Lena stills again, and he hums, “That’s right. Now, if you want him to actually get it before I let the widows have at him, then you’d better stop fighting and take what’s coming to you.” She sobs at the corner he’s got her backed into, but she doesn’t go back to fighting them. Bucky keeps her in his firm grip so that Steve can get to work behind her. “And you were wrong, puppy: It doesn’t go in your pussy.”

It’s too late for her to react. By the time her eyes widen in realization, Steve’s hand is already at her backside.

Bucky grinds his thigh forward as her pupils expand from the feeling, the bundle of aphrodisiacs summarily pushed up inside her tight little pucker. “You keep that in, now,” he warns. “You should start feeling it in the next few minutes, then I’ll give you your real consequence.”

She sobs quietly. “I hate you.”

“Old hat, baby.” He steps away from her, leaving Steve to keep her in place. The promise of lessening Gleb’s upcoming pain seems to be motivating her to behave. Bucky walks back over to the pole where he's got the sad sack tied up. Just to scare the crap out of him, he spends a moment tracing all the different tools that’ve been laid out for their use.

“Please,” Gleb begs.

“Shshsh,” Bucky coos, stepping close and cradling his face, intimate. “You fucked my baby sister,” he says. “What did you think was going to happen when I got a hold of you, hm?” Gleb trembles in his bindings and Bucky reaches for the pliers—a classic. Gleb’s eyes all but bug out of his head. “Colectăm mereu,” Bucky purrs in Romanian, reminding him who he’s dealing with. “You stole from the Bratva, son. Now you have to pay the price.”

“Please. I-I’ll do anything!”

He punches him in the gut, then grabs him by the hair and hisses in his face, “You already did everything! Took what belonged to me. Not very smart.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He punches him again. "I sure hope that pussy was worth it.” He smiles while Gleb is trying to regain his breath. “Eh, it probably was. I should know.” Gleb squints in disbelief, and Bucky feels another perverse thrill shoot through him. “What?" he laughs. "Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew. She didn’t tell you she likes to fuck her brother?”

Gleb’s face screws up. “Stepbrother.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of that misconception,” Bucky drawls, turning back around to get a look at his Little one’s face. Her head is tipped back against Steve’s shoulder, the drugs working into her system by now. Bucky grins. “I told you I’d get you to loosen up, didn’t I? Big brother knows how to make you relax.” He tosses the pliers aside and saunters slowly back over to her. "I just told Gleb about us,” he says. “But I think it’s about time we make a more public announcement, don’t you, sweet pea?”

Her eyes widen. “Bucky, no.”

He grins wolfishly and spins around. He calls out to get everyone’s attention, and in a few seconds everything has quieted, the room eerily devoid of chatter despite the continuing pulse of the club’s music. Bucky goes over to the bar and demands something to toast with, and a flute of champagne is produced with shocking speed. He turns back to the room. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to help me welcome our beloved Polina back home!”

Some people clap, perhaps expecting some long, heartfelt speech. But Bucky cuts to the chase and says, “I’m sure you all know about she and I.” He waits, amused and sipping the champagne. When the crowd shifts nervously, he waves his hand at them and scoffs. “I mean that’s common knowledge, right? Everybody’s tongues were wagging when my father dumped my mother to marry his whore.”

He gestures back to where Steve is holding Lena, supporting her increasingly drugged little body. “Sweet little Polina was only a few years old, back then. And my dad’s infidelity wasn’t her fault." He shrugs. "So I inherited a bratty little sister. I guess the fact that we were still both kids makes the whole thing even juicer, huh? I know you all talk about it: 'The Dragon likes to fuck his own step-sister'. How scandalous.”

He laughs and walks back over to Lena. He caresses her face, leaning in to give her a dirty kiss with plenty of tongue. The crowd murmurs louder. Bucky pulls back and looks out at the room. “The Bratva wives love a good scandal. Don’t you, ladies?” A few of the wives in the crowd look flustered at being called out. Bucky salutes them with his champagne glass. “Well you’re in for a real treat, my dears. Because little Lena back here isn’t just my step-sister. Oh no.”

(Bucky’s always liked putting on a show, so he’s unfazed when making the actual announcement makes his cock harden further in his pants.)

“You see, dear old Dad was fucking around with his pretty shlyukha for a few years before he finally married her, and you know he even knocked her up.” The room goes absolutely silent, and Bucky feels a sick thrill go through him. “That’s right,” he croons, looking back over his shoulder at the stricken expression on his Little one’s face. “This sweet pea isn’t just my step-sibling: she’s my father’s daughter.”

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time before the crowd goes back to chattering, everybody staring wide eyed—some with disgust, others with excitement over this incredible new thing they have to be outraged over. Bucky shouts at the bartender to hand out champagne to anyone who wants it. He toasts the room. “To Polina!” Only a few dozen people raise their glasses and murmur in response, too shocked to know what to do in light of this revelation. Bucky really doesn’t give a crap. This is just a display of his power, just another way to show them—and her—that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and nobody is going to do a thing to stop him. The room slowly returns to the bustle of before, and Bucky returns to stand in front of his girl. “See puppy?” he taunts, lifting the champagne flute to her mouth. “I told you nobody would care.”

It’s a lie. Everybody cares, of course. But his point has been made. He watches as she willingly drinks the champagne. “Good girl,” he praises, setting the empty glass aside. He cups Lena’s face and gives her a tender kiss. “Now, why don’t we give them a show, huh?”

“Bucky,” she whispers, a plea.

But he can see her body relaxing into Steve’s hold despite her mortification, the drugs softening her up just like Bucky’s been waiting for. He pulls the remaining party favor from his pocket and holds it up for her to see. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “Your punishment isn’t going to hurt nearly as bad as Gleb’s.”

He turns the base of the tiny pocket vibrator on and starts it buzzing. “Now, let’s get you really begging, why don’t we?”

Part 3

Masterlist

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Commissions: contact via Tumblr messenger or here

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writersloveroe · 1 year

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enemies to lovers: denial

for when you enemies to lovers otp has hit the denial stage

♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

•”(name?) how could like them of all people?”

•”dating (name) would be like dating a wall,”

•”just imagining a love life with them makes me sick,”

•”i can’t even imagine dating them,”

•”i wasn’t staring at them i was staring at um- the wall!”

•”whenever i get around them i feel all hot and- no i’m not crushing on them!”

•”you must be out of your mind if you think me and them could ever be a thing,”

•”okay maybe they aren’t as bad as i made them out to be- but i still dislike them,”

•”please, if anything (name) has a crush on me,”

•”can you believe someone mistook (name) for my partner? how stupid,”

•”i want to give them the benefit of the doubt, but they always make me want to rip my hair out,”

•”i guess they look good in that (dress/suit), but that doesn’t mean anything. i can compliment people without crushing on them,”

•”they’re such a horrible person to be around i couldn’t imagine being their partner,”

•”i hate that i get butterflies in my stomach whenever i’m around them,”

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buckychristwrites · 1 year

Text

About You | Day 12 | j.t.

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: Please let me know what you think! :D side note, this gif is my fave thing that Jamie does in the whole show, im obsessed.

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

Smack.

With every newspaper that loudly hit, it was met with another jump from you, despite the fact that you knew they were coming. It had been a long morning, waking up early to catch the tube into the office, so you weren’t prepared for the loud noises this soon into the day, although you now knew more were to come. You stared at the headlines, reading each of them over and over again, as if you were trying to memorise them.

Tartt Seizes Mystery Girl’s Heart

Tartt Kiss: What We Know About The Footballer’s New Woman

Victory Celebration, Sealed With A Kiss

It was clear that the only reason the room was still silent was because a response from you was expected. You really didn’t know what there was to say. Scanning the words, you smacked your lips together before speaking.

“They’re not particularly clever.”

Your boss was whatever the exact opposite of enthused was, evident by his severe stare and the fact that he hadn’t sat down for a single second since you had entered his office.

“This funny to you?” He demanded, rotating his laptop to display an article that had your name and picture featured. An article you had already seen and gone through the 5 stages of grief over. “It’s funny that they know exactly who you are and why you were there?” You shrugged, a fire burning in your chest.

“They wouldn’t have known why I was there if you hadn’t posted the announcement of the profile without checking with me first.”

His round face was turning a bright purple, but you remained nonchalant. These meetings were so much easier for you to swallow when he made it so easy to argue. At the very least, it gave you the entertainment of seeing him so mad. This time, however, it felt different. You could feel it, and you know he did too. Leaning into his palms, which were pressed against the top of his desk, he towered over the newspapers. Despite the fact that there was still a decent amount of space between you and him, you still instinctively leaned away from him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You didn’t look at him.

“I’m thinking that it was a football match, and excitement was high, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jamie Tartt, and maybe he wasn’t thinking very clearly.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Although it definitely wasn’t entirely the truth, either. He began to nod as he grabbed his phone and began to type. A few seconds passed before he was sliding it across the desk to you.

“And what about that?”

Looking down, you saw the picture from Jamie’s instagram of you walking in his jersey, something you had totally forgotten about. A hot flash shot through you.

“I just borrowed some clothes. I walked to the stadium and it started raini-“ You stopped when your boss viciously waved you off.

“Don’t fucking disrespect me right now,” He said angrily, snatching his phone back. “Spotted wearing his clothes. Pictured exiting his car with him at the Charity Gala. What the fuck is the matter with you?” Your fingers were in your lap, pulling at each other. Even though you were telling the truth, there was no sense in continuing to defend yourself. His mind had been made up.

Within the hour of the match ending, you had received an email from your boss, telling you to come in for a meeting first thing in the morning. You took the tube in, which gave you plenty of time to settle your nerves. As much as you could, anyway.

Your boss began to yell about professionalism, and how you lacked it, while you thought of Jamie. No real conversation had occurred after The Kiss, as he got swept away by the team, and you found yourself being crowded by paparazzi and journalists as you tried to follow. It took two hours to go home, needing to take several detours to fend off the extra persistent ones. After that, you avoided your phone like the plague. It was blowing up with texts and calls from friends and relatives, asking if the pictures they were seeing were of you. Maybe there had been a text or two from Jamie as well, somewhere lost in the mix, but the fear of looking at your phone kept you from them. Instead, you had spent the night at home in solace, and worked on the article.

Your boss went silent for a while, pulling you from your thoughts. His fingers were white against the back of his chair, making you wonder when he moved there from the desk. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’m pulling you from the profile.”

Your spine straightened with the speed of a whip.

“You can’t do that,” You said in shock. He began to shake his head again, but you continued. “I did nothing wrong.”

“You did everything wrong,” He spat. “You couldn’t be fucking professional. Sleeping with the fucking person you’re writing on. Disgusting. I’ll email you when I decide who will take over, and you’ll send them your notes.” The urge to cry was creeping up your throat, but you swallowed it down.

“I won’t be sending anyone shit,” You told him in a firm voice. “I’ve been working on this for almost two weeks. Do you know how hard I worked to get Jamie to trust me? After everything I’ve said in the past?” At this, he laughed.

“Worked him real good, you did,” He said.

The comment felt like a strike to the face, and you leaned even further away from him. All you could see was red. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, his pleased smile only growing with each attempt to come up with something snarky or angry to say. A sort of acceptance washed over you as you knew what needed to be done.

“I fucking quit then.”

Now, the shock was on his face.

“You’re quitting over Jamie fucking Tartt?” He shouted as you rose from your seat. You contemplated this answer before looking at him again, your face blank.

“You’ve made me wish to quit over a lot less, if it makes you feel any better.”

The yelling immediately began to commence once more, but you were already closing the door behind you. It didn’t take long for you to empty out your desk, as you really didn’t bring a lot of personal items to work, and before you knew it, you were at the train station with a box of assorted belongings and a spot in the unemployment line.

The tube was mostly empty, just a few scattered people throughout the car. You took a spot in the back, setting the box in the space next to you while you sat against the window. As the train took off, you lost yourself in thought.

Where to go now? Over the years, you had yearned to move on from The Independent, much like Trent did, but had never bothered to try. Complacency and fear can really hold a person down. It was hard enough landing the job there, how hard would it be now to find a new one? Especially with the tainted reputation you now held? You absolutely couldn’t get any sort of reference from your old boss. Hell, he’d probably have you blacklisted from all major outlets before the day was out.

Looking at the empty seat that held your belongings, you were hit with deja vu.

You can lay on down if ya want. Grab a few winks.

His voice echoed through your mind, bouncing off the walls of the train car. Your head fell back against the seat. Your body ached at his absence. You missed him horribly, and were angry about the things you missed out on. That you didn’t spend the day laughing with him. That there were so many things left unsaid still. That you could still feel the ghost of his lips on your own.

You imagined him sitting next to you, and what he would say if he were there.

Fuck ‘em. You don’t need them. You’ll be alright, love.

Your heart lurched at the thought as you came back to reality, greeted by the sad, grey box that held your belongings. You closed your eyes. It wasn’t the same. It felt like nothing would be again.

But it had to be. Right?

Pulling out your phone, you went to call him to appease the yearning for his voice, but then froze. You didn’t want to call him. You wanted to see him.

You switched to another contact, typing and sending a message faster than your brain could process it. The response came quicker than expected, although you wouldn’t have been surprised if you hadn’t gotten one at all. A sigh fell from your lips as you stared out the window. Anxiety built in your belly, but you knew soon, it would all feel better. At least, you were hoping it would.

When you got off at your respective stop, you were determined as you rushed out. Your foot was on the first step to go up to the street when you paused. Turning, you ran to the first rubbish bin and threw the box on top. It didn’t quite fit, but you still left it. A few people gave you looks as you ran up the steps, some due to your strange behaviour, others because they recognized you from the pictures of you and Jamie in the press. You kept going.

You didn’t mean to run the whole way. But you did. Mostly due to the urgency you felt, but also partially because it was raining so hard that you felt like the streets would flood and carry you away. There was something cathartic about it. Maybe not to your heart, but to your mind. You slipped on the sidewalk a few blocks from the Underground station, almost falling straight into the cement had it not been for the lamppost next to you. It took a second to straighten up again, but once you were, you continued to run.

Within twenty minutes, you were walking down the residential street, rain continuing to pour. Your chest hurt from the running, as it wasn’t something you did with any sort of regularity. With every house you passed, you looked at the numbers on each one, searching for the one from the text. It was hard to see, with the rain and all, but you felt desperate enough, even going so far as to approach porches to properly read them.

It wasn’t the house number that alerted you to his house, however. It was his car, parked in the driveway. Your feet froze at the sight of it, remembering in vivid technicolor the rides you and him shared inside of it. The first one being under similar circumstances as you were in right now. The nerves were really building, as you stared the car and realised you were really at his house, and you wondered if you made a mistake. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to just return his calls? Instead of showing up, unannounced, in the pouring rain?

Am I stupid? You asked yourself. Am I actually insane?

But you still found yourself approaching the door, your feet moving as if they were being magnetically pulled forward. It was nice to finally be out of the rain. You thought of the box in the bin back at the tube station. Did someone else take the belongings for themselves? Or would it end up in the landfill? Not that it mattered now. It was filled with things you’d never need again.

You closed your eyes, thinking of the last two weeks. So much had happened. More than you ever would’ve predicted when you were given this assignment. And it all led to this moment, here, on Jamie’s porch, with you covered in rain water, heart full, and ready to share those feelings with him. After another brief moment to allow yourself to calm down, you lifted your hand and knocked one, two, three times on the door.

As the seconds passed, you felt your heart begin to race. Is he not home? Maybe he went out with the team? Or out to the shops? You knocked again, a little faster, more urgent this time. More time ticked by, and nothing happened. Tears sprang into your eyes. Was this a sign? You checked your phone, ignoring your growing inbox as you went to Jamie’s text thread. Nothing new. Stuffing the phone back in your pocket, you gave the door another sorrow filed look. Would another knock be enough?

No. Either he’s not home, or he doesn’t want to see you, you told yourself. It was that simple.

You all but ran back into the rain, your head down and your spirit crushed. The walk home wasn’t a far one, although you assumed that by how many times Jamie had walked over to your place. Over the sound of the drops hitting the sidewalk, you thought you heard the sound of footsteps, but that was confirmed when you heard someone yell your name from behind.

Jamie Tartt stood before you, already soaked from the storm. He looked a mixture of pleased and confused to see you. His hair was back in the usual headband, sporting a black hoodie and joggers.

“I was on the toilet,” He explained his delay, looking sheepish. You nodded, not caring for a single second what he had been doing. Just happy he was there now. Just you, him, the pouring rain and the bristling trees.

“They pulled me from the profile.”

His face fell immediately, and he took a step forward.

“Because of…?” He asked, trailing off. You nodded, causing him to pinch his chin between his fingers. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have… I’m so sorry.” You shook your head at him, waving your hands in the same rhythm.

“Did you mean it?” You asked him. “The kiss. Did you mean to do it?”

He looked conflicted, like this was a test. Maybe he feared that you were asking in hopes that you could answer to get the article back. Or maybe he was worried that you regretted it terribly and wished that he did.

“Yes.” It was so firm, so definitive. “I don’t regret it at all. I’d do it again. And again. And again.” You smiled widely, convinced that you’d never stop smiling again.

“I quit.”

The curtain of rain didn’t hide the absolute shock that filled his face. You nodded.

“My boss implied that I slept with you to get you to trust me,” You explained. A beat passed and you tilted your head. “Actually, he just flat out said I slept with you to get you to trust me. So I quit. And I took all of my notes with me. So they’ll have to do everything over.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking his head.

“I’m-” He stopped, his eyes squeezed shut as everything processed. “You…”

“I quit my fucking job for you,” You said, speaking loudly but slowly, so that nothing could be uncertain. You took a step forward. “I was miserable. I didn’t want to accept that, but I was.” You laughed, remembering how it felt to hate going into work. It felt like a lifetime ago, considering how happy you had been these last two weeks. “Then I got to interview you, and I remembered why I love writing and journalism in the first place. I quit my job so I can fucking kiss you whenever I fucking want to and not worry about what my boss has to say, or what people who have read my past articles about you have to say. Because I was wrong about you. I know that now.” You shrugged. “And maybe I’ll never get to write another article again, but I’ll get to kiss you, which I think is a good trade off.”

A long time passed where he just stared at you, wide eyes and chest breathing heavy. Finally, after letting you sit in agony for a second too long, he took three quick strides towards you, pressing his hands to your cheeks and his lips were against yours once again. Your eyes closed instantly as you faded into the kiss. It was different this time, with more passion behind it, but the adrenaline that filled you was the same. You put one hand on the back of his head, curling your fingers in his hair, your other hand balling the front of his shirt in your fist.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. The rain was freezing against your skin, yet you were warm.

“It’s funny,” He mumbled to you. “I learned how to behave meself in public, and now you’re out of a job. You were right.” You immediately pulled your head away from his, staring at him with a look of disbelief.

“Are you choosing this moment to make fun of my unemployment?” You demanded, as he laughed. “This exact moment? Right now, you felt it would be the time? After I just said all that nice, romantic stuff to you?”

He kissed you again, and you could feel him smiling against your lips, his body shaking in silent laughter. You wished this moment would last forever. Just kissing in the rain while smiling and laughing in between. No other problems but getting too cold.

You broke the kiss this time, him leaning after you as if he wasn’t ready for it to end. A slight pout was on his lips, but he recovered quickly.

“How’d you get me address?”

“Got it from the highest bidder,” You said jokingly. He furrowed his eyebrows together, and you laughed. “I asked Roy.” His laugh seemed to fill the entire neighbourhood.

“He’d give me address to all the homeless men in London if he could, so I ain’t surprised,” He admitted. You scrunched up your face.

“I don’t like being compared to the homeless men in London.”

“No,” He said in agreement. “You’re much better.” Reaching forward, he brushed a chunk of wet hair back into place, his fingertips brushing against your forehead. His expression was tender. You were still in shock that this was happening at all.

You gave his lips another peck.

“If money were no object, what would be one thing you’d do?” He shook his head at you continuing your game.

“I’d spend the rest of me life with you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“You don’t need any money for that.”

His eyes were staring into yours, twinkling despite the lack of light.

“We’re gonna need money for a hospital visit if we don’t get inside,” He said, grabbing you by your damp sleeve and dragging you towards the door. It made sense. There wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t wet, and Jamie looked about the same.

“Well, I don’t know if you knew, but I’m not gonna have money for anything coming up soon,” You told him. “So if I would have to just die at that point.”

“Don’t worry, love,” He said as he opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. “I won’t let anything happen to ya. Not ever.”

He shut the door behind you, and for the first time, in what felt like a long time, you didn’t need that reassurance.

You had already known he would.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine

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jungshookz · 1 year

Text

jimin's kind of a dickhead & y/n is very close to losing it

➺ pairing; park jimin x reader // dickhead!jimin x TA!y/n

➺ genre; clearly i’m in my university!au era (can u blame me)!! honk honk humour!! do i smell enemies to lovers?? clichés clichés clichés but who around here isn’t a sucker for a good cliché!! let me indulge!!

➺ wordcount; 3.5k

➺ summary; y/n’s a teaching assistant for the summer semester’s english class and she thinks she’d have a much more pleasant time if one of the students wasn’t an obnoxiously-huge-sunglasses-wearing-comes-to-class-fashionably-late park jimin.

➺ what to expect; “you look way too young to be an actual TA. or at least a TA who knows what they’re doing.”

➺ currently spinning on the record player; popular (with playboy carti & madonna) — the weeknd

»»————- 📚 ————-««

you’re not sure if you’ve ever been this nervous for something before.

it’s not that you don’t know how to speak in front of a large crowd or you have stage fright or something like that, but after working your way up and finally landing the position as a TA for your english professor, the fact that you have to speak in front of a big group of students close to your age and have them actually respect you didn’t hit you up until now, ten minutes before class starts

and you feel like you’re about to simultaneously piss your pants and shit a brick at the same time.

you spent nearly forty minutes this morning picking out an outfit because you wanted to wear something that said “i’m professional, but i’m still cool and casual and you can talk to me about anything BUT there’s still a line that you can’t cross with me because i’m the TA and i’m not just one of you guys even though i kind of am one of you guys” and to be honest, there wasn’t a lot in your closet that screamed specifically that

you ended up going with a pair of bootcut jeans and a tank top with a light cardigan over top: professional, but still approachable… at least, you hope that’s the vibe you give off.

“okay, y/n…” you mutter, looking at your reflection in your little compact mirror to make sure your eyeliner isn’t smudging and there are no remnants of your breakfast croissant in your teeth, “‘hi everyone, i’m y/n, i graduated last year but i’m in my first year at our school’s grad program… really excited to get to know everyone this semester! promise i’ll take it easy on you when i’m grading your papers…’” you recite neatly, nodding to yourself in content

that’s a good way to introduce yourself, right?

it’s lighthearted but you’re still reminding all the students that they have to be on their best behaviour and they should be handing in their best work

“god.” you snap your compact shut and slip it back into your purse, leaning back against the wall and reaching up to adjust your glasses

…but what if they think you’re trying too hard to get them to like you?

this feels like you’re about to go out on a first date with eighty people all at the same time

and now that you think about it, you don’t feel like you’re going to shit a brick — you feel like you’re about to shit out an entire house.

“good morning, y/n!”

“professor kim! good morning!” you stand up from the bench when professor kim walks in through the doors, offering him warm smile and straightening your posture a little, “i got here earlier than i’d expected and i wasn’t sure where to go so i thought i’d just meet you at your office, sorry about that…”

professor kim seokjin had been your english professor from second year up to when you graduated, and after you told him that you were planning on continuing your studies and that you’d been accepted into your school’s graduate program, he made the generous offer to take you under his wing as his TA for the summer semester

you took the opportunity, of course, not just because becoming a TA would look really good on your resume, but also because you genuinely enjoy professor kim’s company and his classes are never boring (and it certainly doesn’t hurt that kim seokjin is very nice to look at)

and to be honest, you didn’t have much planned for the summer in the first place so it’d be good to make a little money and get some teaching experience

“what are you sorry for? the early bird catches the worm, you know what they say,” he beams, nodding towards the exit, “are you ready for your first official class as my TA?”

“i am!” you lie, forcing a bright smile on your face as you walk alongside him, “i mean- i’m- i’m a little nervous, but i… it should be fun! and summer classes usually aren’t as big of a size as the fall semester classes, so that’s easing my nerves a bit…”

“don’t worry, you’ll be great! and because this is our first class, you really won’t have to do much. i’m just going over the syllabus and then we’ll move onto a few writing exercises — and you’re right, summer class sizes are much smaller than the ones in the fall semester. there are only 80 students.” professor kim flicks his wrist casually and your eyes widen in surprise

eighty

eighty students

eighty sets of eyeballs staring right at you

you weren’t expecting eighty students — maybe, like twenty at the most

it’s summer!!! why the hell are people going to summer school?!

“eighty!” your voice cracks slightly and you clear your throat quickly before letting out a light chuckle, “right! i knew that. eighty.” you adjust your backpack over your shoulder as you trail alongside professor kim, chewing on the inside of your cheek anxiously

“and all you have to do today is introduce yourself and then walk around the auditorium and tend to any raised hands. honestly, you’re going to be fine. you were a fantastic student and i’m sure you’ll be a fantastic TA.”

“thank you, professor.” you smile shyly, feeling a little more confident knowing that professor kim thinks you’re going to be a fantastic TA

he’s right

you have nothing to worry about

you’re going to be great and this summer semester is going to be even better!

»»————- 📚 ————-««

you can feel your heart thrumming away in your chest as you stand in the corner by the front, keeping a polite smile on your face as the students begin to trickle in and the auditorium starts to fill up

a few of them smile at you and a few of them don’t, which is what you expected so you’re not taking anything personally

(of course, there was a group of students who looked at you and then muttered something to each other and looked back at you, but you’re trying not to hyper-fixate on whatever the hell that was)

((you will hyper-fixate on it in the privacy of your own apartment after class))

you have to admit that during your time as an undergraduate student, you usually never really noticed the TA and you were more focused on finding a spot in the auditorium or finding your friends

so maybe you really don’t need to be as nervous as you are right now!

you force yourself to stop clicking your pen anxiously before shoving it into the back pocket of your jeans, holding your hands in front of you as you continue to smile and say a few quite hi there’s and hello, hi’s as the students walk past you

a few more minutes of settling in goes by and you’re not sure what to do as you stand up at the front, occasionally looking over to see what professor kim’s up to

his back is turned to the students as he busies himself with connecting his laptop to the big screen up front and you would help out but you already offered at the beginning but he said he could handle it so…

“alright, everyone! welcome to english 405… settle down, please… thank you…” professor kim claps his hands together a few times to get everyone’s attention, the voices from the crowd dying out little by little, “thank you so much for being here! i know summer classes aren’t exactly ideal, but i promise our time together won’t feel like a giant drag in the mud.” he smiles, leaning back against the table as he folds his sleeves up to his elbows, “now, i see a few familiar faces in the crowd because i’ve had you in some of my classes last semester, but for those of you who don’t know me, my name is seokjin. you can call me professor kim or just professor if you’d like. you can’t call me seokjin or jin or man or my G or whatever the hell else you people are calling each other nowadays because i worked far too hard for my PhD for a 20-something year old to think it’s okay to come up to me and call me ‘dawg’.”

you can’t help but giggle with the class at professor kim’s introduction as you settle into your seat by the front, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back comfortably (you’re reminded that because you’re at the front and can be perceived by people that you should probably sit properly and not like a boiled shrimp)

“now, to be honest, i don’t have too much planned for our first class together just because it is the first class, so we’ll most likely cover the syllabus, do a few writing exercises to warm up those thinking caps, look over the reading list- that should’ve been emailed to you two weeks before classes started, so if you didn’t get that email, please let me or my lovely TA know-“ professor kim turns towards you with a smile before gesturing to you, “speaking of my lovely TA, would you like to introduce yourself?”

“i-“ before you get the chance to stand up from your seat, the auditorium doors swing open and smack against the walls, causing you to jolt in surprise and for everyone to turn back and look at who the hell is being so disruptive, “i…”

whoever he is has a pair of giant sunglasses on as he trots down the steps, clearly not in a rush, an iced americano in one hand and a laptop tucked underneath his armpit

an oversized black hoodie hangs on his figure along with a pair of ripped jeans, and you can’t help but frown because on one hand, it’s fine to be late if you come in and take a seat in the back quietly (you’ve been late to more than a few lectures because of a missed alarm, but you always try to be as courteous as you can as to not disrupt the class because you’re a decent human being), but practically kicking the door down and then making the auditorium steps your own runway is another thing

“jimin! so nice of you to join us this morning.” professor kim clears his throat, and you watch as this jimin guy takes a seat right in front of where your seat is off to the side, “i was wondering when you were going to show up.”

“what, i’m not late, am i?” jimin checks the time on his watch before taking his sunglasses off, leaning over and tossing it onto your seat, “it’s 9:06, prof.”

“surprised you even showed up at all.” professor kim mutters under his breath before reaching over to gently tap you on the shoulder, “sorry about that- please, go ahead and introduce yourself now that all of us, hopefully, are here.”

“i, uh- yes, thank you, professor-“ you clear your throat with a polite smile, turning back to face the front even though you find your eyes flickering over to glance at jimin, “i’m y/n and i’m super excited to get to know all of you this semester! i graduated last year but i’m in my first year of our school’s graduate program. and i’ll promise to be nice when i’m grading your papers if you promise that you won’t hand in any bad papers.” you try to bite back the shit-eating grin on your face when that gets a laugh from the audience and you press your lips together (jimin, you notice, hasn’t even cracked a smile), taking a small step back before turning to look at professor kim for your next move

“yes, y/n will be the one who’ll hand your papers back to you and she’ll be the one who deals with your ‘can you bump my 65 up to a 98’ requests, so please be nice to her…” the class laughs again and you’re reminded of why you loved being in professor kim’s classes so much, because he’s such a charmer! “does anyone have any questions for y/n?”

“not a question, just an observation-” jimin chimes in, leaning back against the seats as he runs a hand through his hair, “you look way too young to be an actual TA. or at least a TA who knows what they’re doing.”

“i- well, sorry to disappoint, but i am a TA.” you chuckle lightly, eyes narrowing slightly, “and i can assure you i know what i’m doing.”

“alright, we’ll see about that.” jimin raises both hands in defence and you can’t help but feel your eye twitch at how much of an asshole he’s being despite literally not knowing you at all

“by the way, class starts at 9, not 9:06.” you force a smile on your face, “not a question, just an observation.” you hear a couple of ‘oh, shit’s’ and low ‘oooooh’s’ from the crowd and you have to remind yourself to keep it professional because the last thing you want is to look like you’re bullying the students in front of professor kim

jimin’s jaw ticks as he shifts in his seat, “right, thanks. i’ll keep that in mind.”

“alright. we’ll see about that.” you shove his own words right back into his face again before turning to look back at the class, your smile softening significantly

“if there are no other questions or observations for y/n, let’s get started!” professor kim jumps in before anyone else gets the chance to say anything and you can’t help but feel a little bit of relief because one more second and you probably would’ve said something out of pocket like how massive jimin’s sunglasses are and how it makes him look as though one of santa’s elves escaped from the north pole and decided to go all wannabe emo, “now, i hate technology so i’ve printed the syllabuses out which will be handed out to you by y/n…”

you immediately snap into TA mode, turning around to pick the stack of syllabuses up from the table and cradling them to your chest, splitting them into sections so you can hand them out to the students at the end of the rows for them to hand them down the line

for the most part, everyone seems very nice and well-behaved, and you get a few compliments on your cardigan or your earrings or your glasses as you continue to hand the papers out (you’re pretty sure it’s because everyone’s trying to get on your good side so that when they beg you to change their grade on a paper you will, but you’re not that easy to bribe) but you find the smile fading on your face as you walk down the steps only to see jimin with an arm raised lazily in the air

the rings on his fingers twinkle slightly under the bright auditorium lights and you can’t help but notice how pretty his hands are

…they would be prettier if he wasn’t such a jackass

“jimin! how can i help you?” you press your lips together, resisting the urge to pretend like you never saw his arm and just keep walking

“could i get another one?” jimin asks, raising the copy of the syllabus he has to show you, “the staple on this one is weirdly wonky.”

“is that so? so sorry about that, i can get you another one if you can just give me a sec…” you decide to play nice considering the fact there’s always a TA evaluation at the end of each semester and you don’t know jimin but he seems like the type to completely rip someone apart in an anonymous evaluation

“i’m guessing you stapled them?”

“i did.” you nod, making your way over to your bag before bending over to dig through it for your spare copies

“hm.” jimin tilts his head slightly as his gaze drops to your ass, “makes sense.”

to be perfectly honest, he couldn’t give less of a shit about the wonky staple on his syllabus

he just didn’t like that dig you made at him about being six minutes late (six minutes isn’t even that big of a deal, you’re so obviously a teacher’s pet and he hates eager little teacher’s pets) so now he’s made it his mission to make this class a big ol’ nightmare for you for the rest of the semester

and sure, he can admit that you’re actually pretty attractive and he could see himself hitting on you if he met you at a bar or a club or something, but you’re his TA and you’re a stickler for rules so that kind of kills the vibe

…well, that’s not entirely true

there’s something about you being his TA that’s making his stomach swirl and he can’t really blame himself when his brain conjures up the image of him bending you over your desk as a way to bribe you to give him a higher grade on his papers because he’s certainly not planning on investing a lot of time or effort in this class since it’s just an elective

jimin shifts in his seat as he watches you crouch down so you can dig into your bag even more, your waist dipping and curving out into your hips quite nicely from this angle

…

he’s totally going to get you fold for him and convince you to give him a good grade by the end of the semester.

his tongue pokes out to swipe over his bottom lip at the thought of him coming to see you after hours (because of course you’re going to make an exception for him and allow him to see you at any time he wants, he’ll make sure of it) and again, he can’t blame anyone but himself when he can practically hear you moaning for his dick in his head (“what’s that, baby? you gonna bump me up to an eighty or am i gonna have to do a little more convincing?” “e-eighty, i’ll- ah- i’ll bump you up to an eighty, i-i will-“)

“here you go! a fresh copy for you.” jimin is rudely yanked from his fantasy when you suddenly shove a fresh copy of a syllabus in his face for him to take, “sorry that took me a minute, i have a lot of papers in my bag…”

“you’re good, y/n.” jimin smiles up at you as he takes the paper from you, “thank you for finding another copy for me. and i’m sorry about that comment i made earlier about you looking too young to be a TA, i was just being a shithead. i’m sure you could tell by the way the prof talked to me that this isn’t my first rodeo.”

you blink rapidly in surprise and almost immediately jimin can tell the wall you had up crumbles away as you give him a genuine smile in return, “oh! no problem at all, thank you for apologizing… i’m- i’m sorry i called you out on being late to class, i just- yeah, didn’t appreciate the comment you made about me-“

“oh, no, i totally get it. i would do the same thing if i were in your shoes. your comebacks were really clever. i would’ve laughed but i didn’t wanna give you the win.” jimin teases with a boyish grin and you find yourself blushing at his compliment

huh

maybe you were too quick to judge him so quickly

and even if he hadn’t come to class late and made a dig at you, you can’t deny the fact that the man is absolutely gorgeous

“alright, well- oh, coming!” you nod, raising your hand slightly to acknowledge one of the students in the back when you see them raise their hand before looking back down at jimin, “lemme know if you need anything.”

“oh, i will. thank you, y/n.” there’s almost a playful glint that flashes in jimin’s eyes and you nod again before heading up the stairs, your heart skipping a beat in your chest

interesting

very interesting

🎙️ compliment y/n’s regular-sized glasses or make fun of jimin’s giant sunglasses (talk to my characters!)

📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (full fics!)

💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)

🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

#dickhead!jimin #dickhead!jimin drabbles #jimin drabbles #park jimin drabbles #jimin fics #jimin fic recs #jimin fluff #jimin fluff recs #jimin au #park jimin #bts fics #bts fic recs #jimin x reader #reader insert #bts reader insert #jimin one shot #jimin one shot recs #bts writers #bts writer recs

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eddiesghxst · 1 year

Text

PRICE OF FAME (PART 5/12)

HEHEHE THIS ONES PACKED W LOTS OF... STUFF, ENJOYYYY!!!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie doesn't think he hates you anymore and you can't figure out eddie's game

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, drug and alcohol use, sexual themes, masturbation (f), maybe a little kith (hehe), flirting, and eddie being a jealous boy <3

word count: 6.5k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

The four-day break seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it, it’s show day again.

As always, everybody is busy and filled with pre-show jitters. Although Eddie and Gareth have yet to speak with one another and resolve their dispute, breakfast is not as tense as last time, and you assume the time away from each other has aided in that realm. But then again, you have an inkling that Eddie is only putting up a nice front for Wayne since it’s his last day in New York.

Eddie is stiff and rigid throughout the morning, taught as a guitar string and vividly battling something he has yet to announce. He’s quiet at breakfast and only speaks when directly addressed, and he doesn’t taunt any back and forth that could transpire between him and Gareth. Jeff’s girlfriend joins the table for the first time, and you sit beside her.

Naomi is kind and bubbly with tight, curly brown strands that smell of honey and lime whenever she brushes past you. She’s from a small town in Georgia, where she spent most of her life before going off to college and getting a bachelor's in fine arts. She tells you about her most recent projects and showcases and even invites you to attend if you’re ever in town, and you take her number to keep in contact.

Jeff has radiant energy throughout the meal, and you think he and Naomi make a fine couple with how they seem to complete each other.

After breakfast, you make a few calls for work and fill in Anna on your progress. She informs you that they’re working on setting a date for Corroded Coffin’s photoshoot for the magazine and should be in contact with Richie sometime soon. When Anna asks how the trip has been so far, you lie and tell her it’s been seamless and fun.

You never told Anna about Eddie hating your guts, and you don’t even debate telling her that you’ve somehow stirred the pot between two of the band members or that you kissed the lead singer.

You’re still having a hard time convincing yourself that it was even real.

For a moment, when you woke up this morning, you thought you’d dreamt of kissing Eddie, but no dream ever feels as vivid as that.

You could feel the warmth radiating from Eddie’s body, the coolness of his rings stinging your cheeks when he placed his hands over your jaw to pull you in. The taste and smell of weed mixed in with the worn-down scent of his cologne from the day. And the kiss was so quick, and you were so sleepy you barely had enough time to memorize what his lips felt like or how the feeling of his warm breath against your upper lip sent shivers down your spine.

It left you in a daze for most of the day. Every time you remembered what had happened, your heart raced and the back of your neck heated— and you wanted to ask Eddie what the fuck that was about, but Eddie was nowhere to be found.

After breakfast, Eddie practically falls off the face of the earth. Nobody hears from or sees Eddie, and he doesn’t even show up for rehearsals, which is when Richie becomes suspicious.

“Has anybody fuckin’ seen Eddie, for the love of god?” Richie exclaims. Off to the side, the bass player plucks a deep tune in boredom. Standing center stage, Jeff looks at Richie and shakes his head before glancing at the other two members. Gareth sits behind his drum set, twirling the thick drumsticks between the knuckles of his fingers, lower jaw promptly working a piece of gum as he shrugs. His eye looks better, you note.

And that’s another thing. Gareth has been avoiding you like the plague. You didn’t talk to him much before, but now it’s as if you don’t even exist, and fuck is it making your job more complicated than it already is. How are you supposed to write about Corroded Coffin when half of the said band hates your guts?

Wayne had been spending the day at the hotel, preparing to fly back tomorrow morning, so you doubt he knows where his nephew went. Richie asked an assistant to check if Eddie was being a hermit in his room, but to nobody’s surprise, Eddie wasn’t there either.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, the doors to the venue have opened for fans to flood in, and Eddie is still yet to show up. You stand in front of the barricade, a perfect and obstructed view of the stage where you can see everything, including the hustle backstage.

Wayne has opted for a seat next to the sound booth in the crowd, claiming he’d rather not spend the next few hours standing on his feet, “When you’re older, you’ll understand.” He claimed.

You enjoy the opening act, bopping along and singing to the lyrics you know, and before you know it, the band is leaving, and the clock for Corroded Coffin’s appearance is ticking— still, no word from Eddie.

You’re busy watching the stage crew set up Corroded Coffin’s display when a familiar face approaches you. “How’s the article coming along?”

James, one of the three tour photographers for Corroded Coffin. You sat next to James on day five of breakfast. James is kind, and with your little snippets of conversation, you’ve come to peg him as not exactly what you’d expect.

James’ skin is littered with tattoos, sleeves up both arms with intricate ink slithering up his neck. You’d ask him how many tattoos he has in total, and he’d confessed that he lost count a long time ago and has now resulted in just throwing out a random number when people ask, to which you laughed.

He has jet-black curly hair that you’ve only seen at breakfast because he likes to slick it back most days, and he has piercings in each ear and one on his right eyebrow.

He’s a character, James. Intimidating from the outside, but nothing but soft, fluffy teddy bear warmth on the inside.

“It’s… well, it’s going. I’ve still got a bit of work to do, but so far, so good.” You nod. James smiles and nods, “I’m excited to see the final product. I won’t lie, after we spoke at breakfast, I did a little digging,” he responds. You raise your eyebrows in interest, “Digging?”

“Yeah, you know, looked at some of your past work and whatnot— which, by the way, the piece on the Cocteau Twins was insane,” He exclaims. Your eyes widen, “Really? Not many people talk about that one; I didn’t think it got around.” You laugh.

James tells you about his favorite pieces of yours he read, and he asks questions about each one of them. What your favorite interview was, who were you most excited to write about, and which of your works is your favorite piece so far.

You eventually end up talking about James and his current projects aside from the tour. He tells you about the new exhibit he’s partnering with in downtown LA. It’s an immersive piece, something new in the art world where the audience, for the first time, will get to experience art in a more tangible way. It’s more interactive and fulfilling for those who struggle to grasp the full context behind the art, and James seems more than excited about it when he tells you to stop by if you have the time.

However, before you can respond, the lights in the venue dim, and the crowd roars.

This has always been your favorite part of a show, that moment when the lights cut off and the arena comes to life with a shared excitement. It’s exhilarating and pulls you to the edge of your seat, no matter how often you’ve seen it.

Through the smoke-filled venue and the dark atmosphere, you can see each of the boys file out onto the stage, Gareth spinning his drumsticks between his knuckles as he steps onto the drum riser while the other two grab their instruments. Three members are on stage, and you remember that Eddie has been missing in action for the entire day.

The crowd grows louder when they see the shadows of the boys on stage, screaming their names and chanting in anticipation. And as he shreds the first chords to the opening song, you worry that Eddie really might’ve skipped out on tonight’s show.

You’re happily mistaken, however, because soon you see another figure step out, and the crowd goes deafeningly loud.

Beside you, James smiles and shakes his head, “Shit never gets old,” he yells over the screams.

And your heart is racing for some reason as you watch the tall figure walk in the darkness, curly mane of hair akin to a halo as he steps up to the mic, electric guitar strapped across his body.

He leans into the mic and says a few words, words you don’t even hear due to how loud the crowd is, but you feel the gruffness and bass of his voice booming through the speakers, and you nearly mistake it for your heartbeat.

Because when the song finally starts and the stage lights go up, you’re at a loss for words.

Eddie is gorgeous, undeniably so; he always has been, and you never thought he wasn’t. The only thing that got in the way of Eddie’s beauty was his shitty attitude towards you. But this… the way Eddie looks tonight— you’re a speechless and wavering mess of mixed feelings.

Tonight, Eddie is beautiful.

His hair is down as usual, curly and healthy strands sitting pretty atop his shoulders, and he’s opted to play the show in nothing but leather pants and his usual boots.

His upper body is on full display, broad shoulders, and muscles flexing with each strum of his guitar, back muscles working overtime as he trashes along to the music. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, tattoo-covered skin glistening beneath the lights, and you want nothing more than to run your hands down his chest and watch the way it smudges beneath your fingertips.

When the second song finishes, Eddie’s chest is heaving as he pauses and looks out into the crowd, scanning the rows with a lopsided, smug grin.

You can hear faint pants leaving his lips as he leans into the mic, jewelry-wrapped fingers hugging the fret of his guitar. He gazes in silence for a moment, listening to the cheers of the crowd that pull the corners of his mouth into a wider grin. And you don’t even notice the rest of the band on stage because all you see and hear is Eddie.

You hold your breath when his eyes find yours, and your knees nearly buckle at the sight of his dark eyes shining beneath smudged, black eyeliner.

“Fuck,” he breathes with a smile, softly laughing when the crowd screams at his voice, “Do you look good tonight, New York.”

And he’s saying this and looking at you.

He is staring at you like he can see through to your soul, and it makes your head dizzy with a whirlwind of emotions and greedy wishes.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until Eddie finally looks away from you and into the crowd, “Are you ready to have a good time, New York?”

Eddie has never, in all his years of living, played as well as he did tonight.

He’s not sure what exactly caused this; maybe the fact that Wayne is in the crowd tonight, or perhaps because he’s still pissed with Gareth, or maybe because he can’t stop thinking about kissing you, or probably because he hates the way you and James won’t stop fucking talking to each other.

Eddie doesn’t know why it pisses him off to see you laughing and enjoying the company of James, but it does. It ticks him off to no end, and he can’t help the feeling that brews in his chest when you lean forward to hear James over the music or when James innocently squeezes your bicep to get your attention before he says something.

By the middle of the show, Eddie has had enough. He’s four shots of tequila in, and he’s feeling bold with the crowd's energy, so when his infamous guitar solo in one of the songs comes, he doesn’t stand center stage as usual.

No, Eddie makes sure to walk over and stand right in front of where you and James stand and play his solo like it’s the last time he'll ever play.

It’s a sinful view, and the crowd goes wild, the big screens zooming in on his skilled fingers dancing across the frets, the flexing of his wet torso, the flutter of his lashes when he closes his eyes and tosses his head back. His lips are slick and parted in ecstasy from the adrenaline high.

And Eddie can feel your eyes on him. Can feel the heat of your gaze burning through every inch of his body, rolling over every movement he makes and taking him in like he’s a prized possession in a museum. He thrives off of it, and he plays harder.

When his solo ends, Eddie doesn’t bother looking at the crowd or James or his band; no, Eddie only looks at you, making sure you understand what he’s trying to say through his eyes. And for a moment, Eddie wishes James would turn the camera away from him and capture your beauty instead— because you look like an angel under red lights.

Eddie has only allowed himself small moments to appreciate the sight of you, but now, he is greedy with the upper hand he has. He takes in every piece of you; your hair, your eyes, your lips, the delicate necklace kissing the skin of your collarbones— and Eddie wants to run his tongue up the side of your neck and hear you whimper for him. Wants to dig his teeth into your skin until you keen and whine and beg him for more more more.

The skirt you’re wearing, god, it’s fucking short, and Eddie imagines the way your skin would feel beneath his fingers, pressing into the fat of your thighs and marveling when the skin gives way to the pressure. Hot and messy fingerprints all around your hips and ribs. Teeth bearing marks across your stomach and chest. Eddie is dizzy with lust and need, and he feels like a fucking animal writhing and waiting to pounce.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

He wants it all.

The rest of the show goes back and forth like that. Eddie catches glimpses of you and James talking and takes it upon himself to direct your attention back to the stage— back to him. Near the end, James finally focuses on his fucking job and busies himself with taking pictures instead of flirting with you, and Eddie walks off the stage feeling satisfied.

The band does their meet and greet backstage and signs a few autographs before they can do their usual post-show rituals: drinking, playing games, and making plans to go out.

Despite his love for post-show rituals, Eddie wants nothing to do with it tonight because he can only focus on you.

You’re standing with James and a stage crew member, talking about something Eddie could care less about, given how he cuts into the conversation, “Can we talk?”

Your eyes are wide and bright when you turn to him, shocked by Eddie’s ability to even acknowledge you, and Eddie thinks about last night and how your lips felt against his. “Um… talk?”

Eddie’s still high on post-show energy, and he doesn’t like that James is standing so close to you, so he takes a leap of faith and wraps a hand around your wrist, gently tugging with a short nod, not even waiting for an answer before he turns and drags you out of the green room.

He doesn’t know at what point his fingers traveled down your wrist to slip between your warm and gentle fingers, but he becomes hyper-aware of it as soon as you both step out into the hallway, the slam of the door echoing behind you, “Eddie, where are you taking me?”

Eddie glances back at you, fingers subconsciously squeezing yours, “Dressing room. I wanna do the interview.” He answers.

You halt at his response, heels digging into the cement floor and tugging Eddie back, “What?”

The heat of your palm is burning through Eddie’s skin, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself from what he wants to do if he continues touching you, so he lets go. “The interview.”

You shake your head and squeeze your eyes, “No, I heard you, but… I mean,” you pause, “why? And why now? This can’t wait until—“

“Look, if you don’t want to do it now, that’s fine, but I’m not doing it any other time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before turning around and continuing to walk towards his dressing room.

You silently watch for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden change of heart, but you nod either way and follow after him.

Eddie hardly pays any mind to you when you walk in behind him, busying himself with walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself a glass of the first bottle he sees. Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie notices you awkwardly standing near the door and snickers. “You can take a seat, sweetheart; I didn’t bring you here to, like… chew you out or something.” He jokes.

He makes you a glass despite not asking, and when he turns around, you’re now seated on the light brown couch in the middle of the room, hands fiddling in your lap as you silently wait for Eddie.

He sits on the opposite side of the couch and places the second glass on the coffee table, wordlessly nudging it toward you before leaning back in the seat and taking a long sip.

“Where’s your cute little journal?”

You’re confused.

You don’t understand the game Eddie is playing, and it’s driving you insane the longer you look at him, leaned back against the plush couch, smug smirk kissing the rim of his glass as he takes a slow sip, brown, hazy eyes glazing over your nervous figure. The sheer button-down top he now wears is fully unbuttoned to reveal his sweat-glistening torso, leather pants hug his thighs, snug and tauntingly, the button popped open and zipper pulled down to show the sinful sight of a trail of hair that leads to places you’ve been trying so desperately not to imagine. You don’t mean to stare, and you catch yourself when he shifts his hips upward to get more comfortable, the sight of his lower stomach flexing and tattoos coming alive on his skin sending shivers up your spine.

You clear your throat and turn to grab your journal out of your bag. You haven’t had the time to buy a new journal after you ruined the binds by tearing out those pages for Eddie, so you must handle the remaining structure carefully.

You take a deep breath and flip to a clean page, clicking your pen once before glancing at Eddie, “Okay, I guess we’ll… start.”

Eddie smirks, and you want nothing more than to wipe it away.

You open your mouth to ask your first question, but Eddie cuts you off, “I have a proposition,” he begins.

You look at Eddie, blinking once and thinking over if you want to indulge in whatever trick this is. You relent, “Okay?”

Eddie smiles triumphantly and leans forward to put his glass on the table, yours still untouched. He grabs the pack of cigarettes lying to the side, picking a single stick and grabbing the lighter before leaning back onto the couch, lighting the cigarette before shifting to face you. He drapes an arm across the back of the sofa, blowing out a cloud of smoke before speaking, “I get to ask you questions as well. Like a trade-off, for each question you ask, I also get to ask one.”

And it’s not as bad as you’d thought, really. Knowing Eddie, you had expected him to propose a game involving stripping or drinking of some sort, and you had prepared to immediately shut him down— but this, you can settle for this.

So, you shrug, “Okay. We can do that.”

Eddie hums in delight, taking another drag of the burning stick and nodding for you to begin.

“Okay,” you sigh, shifting to get more comfortable. In the distance, you can hear the chaos of backstage rituals happening, and you fight through the noise to focus. “We’ll start light. What made you choose music?”

Eddie twiddles the cigarette between his fingers, silently thinking, “I don’t know. I grew up with music, never went a day without it, so, in a way, I guess you could say music chose me.” He responds.

You nod, “What are some of your first memories with music?”

Eddie smiles and gazes up at the ceiling, and you watch as he seems to wander down a road of memories. “When I was younger,” he begins, “before my mom died, I remember waking up and going to the kitchen to watch her cook breakfast,” he pauses as if trying to see through the fog of time to explain it clearly.

“And she had this small green radio that sat on the window sill, and she would play all of her tapes; The Mamas and Papas, Jefferson Airplane, Sam and Dave— you know… hippie shit.” He says. “I knew Surrealistic Pillow like the back of my hand by the time I could talk, I swear.” He jokes, smiling when you softly laugh. He looks at you, a glint flashing in his eyes, and you can tell the memory brings him a joy he misses.

And you find yourself thinking back to a few days ago, when you were walking beside Wayne with Richie and Eddie a few paces back. You remember what Wayne had told you then; you remember the tone in his voice and the careful thought he’d used behind each sentence.

“Give him time,” Wayne softly says. You glance over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of Eddie and Richie sharing a cigarette. You turn back to Wayne when he adds, “You’re a nice girl, and Eddie… Eddie doesn’t know what to do with nice.”

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek, chest tightening at the pained gaze in his eyes when he speaks, “He hasn’t had much of that in his life.”

“I know you don’t owe it to him, but just give him some time… he’ll come around.”

Eddie glances at your empty page before gazing back into your eyes, “You gonna write something down? I’m not repeating any of this, just so you know.”

You nod, snapping out of your daze to begin writing. Eddie patiently waits as you jot down your thoughts and conversation, burning through his cigarette and watching your every move.

You look back at him when you finish, and fight the urge to shy away when you realize he hasn’t looked away from you this entire time. “Um, okay, tell me about—” “I believe I get to ask two questions now.” Eddie cuts in with a smirk.

“Oh,” you pause, “Yeah, okay. Go ahead.”

Eddie ashes his cigarette and grabs his drink again, “When did you start writing?”

And Eddie keeps surprising you. For some reason, you thought Eddie would ask something dumb, inappropriate, or condescending— nothing of this matter. You didn’t think Eddie was interested in actually learning something about you.

You sigh as you think, “Well, the first time I ever wrote for myself was around middle school; I had a diary.” You respond, and Eddie’s eyebrows raise in interest, “It was lilac with a gold lock on the pages, and I carried the key around on my necklace because I was so afraid someone would get ahold of it.” You shake your head as Eddie laughs.

“Now, what in god’s name was little middle school Birdie writing about in her secret diary?” Eddie pries.

You scoff, “Like I’d ever tell you that.” You roll your eyes, and Eddie makes a sound of protest, “Come on, it can’t be that bad.” He pokes. You raise an eyebrow and glance at Eddie, “You’d be surprised by what goes through the mind of a twelve-year-old girl on the precipice of puberty. I’m taking those pages to the grave.”

Eddie laughs loudly at that, head tossing back with the action. You find it beautiful, the way his neck stretches and his skin molds against his bones— kissable and enticing.

“Okay, well, aside from your secretive diary. What made you choose this,” Eddie nods towards the journal in your lap.

You hum and purse your lips in thought, “I’ve always loved writing. I loved reading too, still do, and I tried writing fiction, but there’s something about writing people’s stories that just… feels good.” You respond.

“I know how easy it is to become misunderstood in this industry, so I want to hear the truth and help the audience see things from a clearer perspective. I want to help create an understanding if that makes sense.”

Eddie nods, eyes soft and smiling within his gaze. “That’s neat.” He comments, and you smile.

He sips his drink before speaking, “So, how did you end up writing for Rolling Stone Magazine?”

You laugh, “A shit ton of groveling, I’ll tell you that.”

You reach forward and pick up your drink for the first time, taking a sip before speaking, “I’d been trying to get an interview for the longest time, and then I finally just gave up for a while, but then my friend saw an opening a few months later and sent in one of my writings and… I guess they liked it enough to hire me,” You shrug.

“But,” you hold up a finger, “I spent a good year just running errands and shit for the managers; it was awful,” you admit. “So, how’d you end up with the big guys?” Eddie asks.

“Well, I wrote a hell of a paper and blew their fuckin’ minds.” You jokingly say, smirking over the rim of your glass as you take a sip. Eddie softly laughs and takes a sip of his drink as you place yours back down on the table in exchange for picking up your pen.

“My turn,” You remind him.

He nods, and you glance at your journal, thinking about what you want to ask next. “I know in the past you’ve mentioned that you don’t particularly release songs about your life, but you rather opt to tell stories within your music,” you mention, and Eddie nods in confirmation.

“What’s the reasoning behind that?”

It’s a slightly more in-depth question, and Eddie has to take a few moments of silent pondering before he answers. “Well, for starters, I’ve always considered myself more of a storyteller. I like to create different scenarios and characters and find ways to bring them to life,” He begins.

You quietly jot down notes as you listen to him speak, “When I was in high school, I got really into Dungeons and Dragons, and I still love the game, but I guess you could say it stems from that— the storytelling aspect, I mean.”

“But as for why I don’t release more personal songs… I don’t know; I guess I just like to keep a part of my life private to some degree. However, that doesn’t mean these made-up characters and scenarios I sing about aren’t in some way correlated to me,” He hints, and you nod in understanding.

“That’s neat.” You copy his words from earlier, and you both smile.

You and Eddie go back and forth with questions for a bit, touching base with topics like childhood, friendships, current projects, and such. It’s nice to have a decent conversation with Eddie, and for a moment you forget that you’re even doing your job because interviewing Eddie feels like any normal conversation you’d have— lighthearted, smooth, and innocent. Until—

“Alright, my turn. This one’s good,” Eddie starts.

You’re both two glasses in, and your cheeks feel warm from the drinks as you gesture for Eddie to go on. Eddie gazes at you and studies you briefly before speaking, “What’s going on with you and James?”

You blink in confusion, “James?” You question. Eddie nods, “Yeah, James. The photographer.” Eddie explains.

Your face twists in slight confusion as Eddie sips his drink, “What about him?” You ask.

Eddie laughs, “What’s up with you two? Are you guys together or something?”

And there it is. The game that Eddie’s been playing all along, revealed in all its true nature.

Your eyebrows furrow in defense, annoyed with the sudden shift in demeanor, “Is that any of your business?” You question, and Eddie laughs, tapping his ring against the glass of his drink with a soft clink, “Sweetheart, it’s my business if I’m cutting the check.” He snickers.

You narrow your gaze at him, clearly irritated with his words. You don’t know why you ever gave him the chance. Eddie has only ever shown you his true colors, and he’s, more than once, told you that he doesn’t take you or your profession seriously. This has reminded you so.

“You don’t pay me,” you snap, “And I doubt you’ve even touched a check in the last three years.”

Eddie smirks, amused by your sudden frustration, “Maybe you have a point,” he relents, “But you still haven’t answered my question.” He points out.

You roll your eyes, “Why do you care, Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m curious.” He smugly answers.

“I don’t ask you who you’re fucking, do I?” A lousy attempt at dodging the question.

Eddie shrugs again, “You could if you want to, I don’t mind. I bet you’ve been curious to know anyway, haven’t you?” He replies.

You don’t like the way that makes your insides squirm with heat.

And you could tell him the truth. You could tell him the simple and honest answer that, no, nothing is going on between you and James. But as you look at Eddie sitting across the couch, you can’t find a single reason why Eddie should even care or why he should have the satisfaction of an answer. “Ask something else.” You say.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second to spit out his next question, “Did you like the kiss?”

“A different question.” “Those are my questions, princess.”

God, you don’t even know why you’re putting up with this. You could easily just get up and leave, but you hate to give Eddie any room for thinking he’s won whatever stupid battle this is.

You shut your journal, refusing to stay another minute, going back and forth with Eddie. You stand and grab your bag, shoving your journal in before looking at Eddie and finally answering his original question, “No, nothing is going on between me and James.” You admit. And you think Eddie will leave it at that, but you're sadly mistaken.

“And the kiss?” He asks.

“What about it?” Your composure is beginning to falter and your frustration is seeping into your tone. Eddie’s eyes glint with mischief, gaze never leaving your fidgety frame as he speaks, “Did you like it?”

“No.”

A lie. A terrible one that Eddie can see right through.

You begin making your way to the door, but Eddie catches you before you can even lay a finger on the handle, turning you around to face him when he speaks, “You’re a shit liar.” He points out.

And he’s so close you can barely think straight with his overwhelming presence. You find your footing through the haze, gazing into Eddie’s eyes when you speak, “Did you ask me to come in here so you can answer my questions, or did you just want to waste my time?”

Eddie is silent for a long moment, eyes dancing between your wide and sharp gaze, darting down to your lips, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to lightly lick across his bottom lip. You can smell the smoke on his breath, reaching out to mix with your liquor-coated exhales.

“Did you like the kiss?”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie has you cornered now, pressed against a wall so tight you have no choice but to admit defeat, moving forward to press your lips against his liquor-slicked lips.

It’s hasty. Messy, greedy, drunk, and needy, and it rids your mind of all rational thought as Eddie presses himself against you.

Eddie kisses you like it’s the last chance he’ll ever get, pressing into you so close you’d think he’s trying to jump into your skin. And the taste of Eddie is addicting.

You crave for more, and you’re hesitant to push, but Eddie understands the second he feels your tongue lick against your lips. He takes it upon himself to push his tongue into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth, and you happily let him. All clear thinking has gone out the window at this point, and you let your bag slink off your shoulder to plot onto the floor, busying yourself with sinking your fingers into the curly strands of his hair and gently tugging at the root. Eddie moans against your lips, and you pant, your brain going dizzy at the heavenly sound.

Eddie’s hands are eager and hungry as they rest against your hips, sneaking up your torso to squeeze and grab at your skin. And he hates the fact that there are so many layers of clothes between you, and he wants them gone.

His hand travels down the side of your body and digs into the thick of your thigh, dipping lower to catch the back of your knee and hitch your leg around his waist. You keen, pitching your hips forward into Eddie’s, and he moans, greedily squeezing your skin and gliding up your leg. Cool rings send shivers up your spine when he slips under the hem of your denim skirt and kneads the fat of your ass.

If breathing weren’t a necessity, you would kiss Eddie forever, but your lungs burn with the lack of air, so you find yourself pulling away with a wet gasp, “I—“ Eddie presses a kiss to your lips, cutting you off before you can speak and you whine, fingers moving to dig into the soft material of his open shirt, “Eddie, I can’t… I can’t breathe, I gotta breathe,” You pant.

Eddie laughs, and you smile as he trails his kisses down to your neck, licking against the base of your throat before sinking his teeth into the skin. You moan, whiney and loud in Eddie’s ear and he hums in appreciation, grumbling into the skin of your neck as he speaks, “I wanna fuck you.”

His teeth scrape against your pulse, and you gasp, head dropping back against the wall with a soft thud as your nails dig into the skin of Eddie’s shoulder. “What?” You hazily blink.

Eddie moves back to see you, lust-ridden eyes darting all over your face. And he looks so pretty, hair messy, shirt skewed against his lean frame, lips swollen and pink from kissing, and you want him. You want him to a dangerous degree.

He kisses you, muttering his words against your lips as he squeezes your hips and pulls you closer, “I wanna fuck you.” Eddie repeats.

You pant, opening your mouth against his and preparing to speak, but you’re interrupted by the door opening, the two of you jumping at the sudden intrusion, your hand swiftly shoving at Eddie’s body to push him away.

And you think you might die because who better to walk in on you and Eddie practically devouring one another than fucking Jeff.

“Oh, shit, uh,” Jeff looks the other way as soon as he sees you and Eddie. You hastily pick up your bag and tug your skirt back down to a modest length from where it had ridden up to your hips.

You and Eddie are still breathing heavily from your extremities, and Eddie— fucking Eddie; he snickers when Jeff glances back at him and makes a lazy attempt at holding back a laugh. Your face and neck heat up in embarrassment as you shift in your spot, wanting nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“The car is here, man, let’s go,” Jeff snickers before leaving.

And truthfully, you don’t currently have the confidence to look Eddie in the eye and register what’s just happened between you two. So, you grip the strap of your bag and flee before Eddie can say or do anything.

You’re not sure how that happened, and you’re not sure why it makes your stomach twist in a way that makes you blush, but you like it.

And you can’t believe yourself.

You can’t believe that you spent the entire drive to the hotel thinking about how Eddie’s hands felt on your body, his lips against the skin of your neck, or how you could feel him pressed against your thigh, begging to be touched.

When you shower, you try to ignore the throbbing ache between your legs when you think of those words Eddie whispered to you. You try to ignore it as you get ready for bed and ignore the toe-curling sensation of the cool hotel sheets brushing against your hardened nipples when you slip into bed. You try so hard; you really do.

But you can’t help it when you begin imagining how Eddie’s hands would feel across your chest, the light and rough feeling of his calloused fingers ghosting over your nipples to watch as you writhe beneath him.

Fuck, you really try to ignore it.

But you can’t. It’s annoying, the way Eddie clouds your mind. And you feel like a bitch in heat when the only thing running through your mind and body is the burning desire to cum. And if you stuff your hands between your thighs and bring yourself to cum to the idea of Eddie and the feeling of him pressed against you with your name on his tongue, who’s to judge you but yourself?

Because despite everything your mind is telling you, you can’t help but find yourself wanting Eddie.

But all of that flies out the window the following day.

You’d decided to order breakfast to your room, and the hotel sends the daily newspaper with each meal, and you like to read it while sipping on a hot cup of coffee on your terrace. However, when you see the newsletter cover, you’re not sure you have much of an appetite for coffee.

A picture of Eddie from last night with a familiar red-headed girl wrapped around his arm and a caption that makes your stomach twist in knots. The caption, ‘Corroded Coffin lead singer, Eddie Munson, new girlfriend debut!” in bold and italicized letters.

And you don’t know why, but your stomach sinks. You should’ve known better.

————

part six

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a/n: HIII YOU MADE IT TO THE END!! i know i said there would be drama drama in this part BUT it started getting too long for my liking, SOOO THE REAL DRAMA WILL COMMENCE IN PART 6 HEHE. THANK YOU FOR READING, AND AS ALWAYS, I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS SO PLS LMK IN THE COMMENTS OR REBLOGS HOW YOU FEELLL <3

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2

@mvnsonslvt @s-u-t @hereforshmut @mmunson86 @welcometohellsock @lma1986 @birdsinmywalls @animechick555 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @spideydreams00 @lorosette @prestinalove @sirensleepingsoundly

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xxx-theartofsuicide-xxx · 4 days

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Concept: what if sometimes Lydia asks BJ to show her some alternate reality dreams where they’re in conflict, or where they’re falling in love all over again in different ways, because she’s just curious and creative and likes thinking about their relationship from a bunch of different angles? And he’s a simp, of course, so he’d show her whatever enemies-to-lovers AUs she wants to sorta-live out, possibly including ones where waking up next to him is a “nightmare” that she had to wake up from… and then she could wake up for realsies and be happy to see him

Maybe the whole marriage-bargain thing from BJBJ was a fantasy of hers to sort of give herself plausible deniability from admitting that she really does want an unhinged wedding. Kinda like how many women have fantasies about non-consensual sexual encounters in part because then it’s like, even in their imagination, they’re still pure and virtuous and someone’s just forcing them, it’s not like they have desires of their own that they’re fantasizing about! So the wedding in the movie could’ve been a fantasy of like, “noo I’m a good girl in a dubiously-consensual wedding, I’m not to blame for this, I had to marry him for my daughter’s sake! It’s not like I’m into his freak vibe!!!” and then when she wakes up with him she’s unequivocally into his freak vibe, but sometimes the girlies gotta go into their fantasy world to subconsciously work out some lingering shame

Idk I like to think Lydia's noncon fantasies would be spicier than that, especially at this stage in her life. But I do agree with you that Betelgeuse absolutely would indulge Lydia any fantasy she desired.

I'm pretty sure BJ2 is all about Lydia wanting to be a mother and Betelgeuse fulfilling that wish. He's a jealous guy. It's not easy for him to let her go traipsing through the ether having imaginary relationships with imaginary men, but it's worth it to give her what she wants; Astrid.

#beetlebabes #ask #spoilers #beetlejuice #beetlejuice beetlejuice #fan theory

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strawwritesfic · 2 months

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Joel x Female!Amputee!Reader: (Don't) Hold Your Breath [Ch. 5]

Summary: You’ve made a lot of monumental mistakes in your life. Cutting your arm off isn’t even at the top of the list. Now you’re about to learn a lot of life lessons at the hands of your savior and her brute of a guardian–and they’re not about to let you learn them the easy way either.

Challenge: "#32 in His Rulebook" by Edible Heart Monster on Lunaescence Archives

Rating/Warnings/Tags: M (post-The Last of Us; excessive swearing; sexual references; violence against children; infected children; references to abortion; references to cannibalism; references to starvation; references to riots; implied domestic abuse; implied grooming; implied sexual relationship between an adult and a minor; death of a parent; violence; gore; blood; gun use; ableism; amputee!Reader; enemies to lovers; not canon compliant)

Pairings/Relationships: Joel/Female!Reader; Tommy/Maria; Reader/Male!OC; Ellie & Reader; Ellie & Joel; Ellie & Maria & Tommy

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Master List (with important note!)

Rule #5: Don't touch anything.

It wasn’t the clicking that bothered you about later stages of the infection. You could easily tune out a sound. Besides, when you wanted to pay attention to it, their signature sound made them easier to look out for. No, what you didn’t like, what truly frightened you about clickers, was the way they moved—the way their limbs floundered, the way their heads whipped back forth, the way their feet scuffed along the ground beneath them.

When a clicker came for you, you got a front-row seat to all that movement. This one lurched and stumbled towards you at an alarming pace. With your back pressed against a tree, you had nowhere to run. All the noise coming from its broken maw would probably draw the rest of the swarm. All your nights of staying huddled inside a tree hollow, waiting for them to migrate, were for not. Soon you would feel the snap of chipped and rotting teeth against your neck.

Both of your hands scrabbled through the moist earth around your tree. Maybe you hadn’t tossed your pistol into the forest behind you, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away to look properly at the area surrounding you. The clicker drew closer and closer, closer, until it kneeled in front of you, its head still twitch madly, the clicking still sputtering from its throat.

You whimpered, but all that did was draw the clicker’s dirty, broken fingernails toward your face. The thumbs dragged slowly up your cheeks until both were pressing hard into your eyelids.

“You let it take my eyes,” came the familiar voice a young child. “Can I have yours?”

Pain shot up once more through your missing arm, and you rocketed upward in fog of cold sweat. Your breath swooshed in and out of your chest as your eyes, still thankfully whole, darted around your tiny prison cell of a room. There was a window, but all that did was pump warm afternoon light inside. Still, you felt cold and clammy with residue of your nightmare sticking to your skin. How many times were you going to have that one before it lost its shock value? For fuck’s sake, it had been years!

Your arm gave another nasty throb; you clapped your remaining palm around it. Despite your recent nap, you felt more lightheaded than before. A quick look about your sleeping space told you why: Blood was smeared across the wall. Apparently, you had been thrashing in your sleep. How fucking mature of you. That would certainly get the others to respect you.

“I’m not waiting around! Get the hell up!”

Along with someone shouting those word came a banging on your door. From the sound of it—and the echoed banging in your head—they’d been at it for a while. Maybe that had been what woke you up. Not that you were complaining. You appreciated getting torn away from that particular dream before the eye gouging started in earnest.

“What?” you demanded when he didn’t speak.

He’d changed his shirt, you noted. Plaid, still, and a different color, but at least less dirty. Looking down at your array of clothing only made you feel angrier. The fabric underneath your missing arm was crusty and red-brown with dried blood.

“Infirmary,” he answered shortly. “Now.”

“Huh?” Slowly, one of your eyebrows lifted. The other soon followed. “Where’s Ellie? Wasn’t she supposed to come get me for dinner?”

“Ellie’s busy. She remembered that no one had changed your bandages.”

“So?”

“So,” Joel rolled his eyes, looking the most casual you had ever seen him, “she insisted I come and take care of that for you.”

“Tell her thanks but no fucking thanks.”

Casual Joel did not mean casual banter. That became very clear shortly thereafter, when his mouth set and he looked back down at you. His eyes slid down, all the way to your stump, which was hurting quite a bit more than it had since Ellie had made you a better tourniquet. You tried to step back inside your room to hide the worst of it, but Joel had already spotted the blood. He looked angrier than ever.

“Infirmary,” he said again, and took your still-existing arm. “Now.”

He yanked, and before you could protest, you were tripping after him. Joel released you immediately, maybe afraid that you had fucking fungus cooties on your skin. At least you had worn your shoes to sleep. Splinters littered the hallway, something you had not taken note of on your way in.

Joel was not much of a talker. Several people met the two of you on your way out, but shied away as soon as they spotted Joel. He didn’t seem to notice, and didn’t greet those that did hazard throwing greetings his way. A few times, his walkie-talkie—he must have picked one up during your nap—gurgled, but he ignored it. You weren’t sure why, as a few of them sounded a little frantic.

Maybe he was taking you out to pasture.

Cold fear flooded through your body at the thought of being killed. You were so close to having made it just a little farther. You couldn’t die! You just couldn’t. But if Joel noticed your sudden panic, he ignored you as he led you outside and through the maze of cement corridors.

The thought of running off occurred to you. Tommy seemed like an absolute idiot when it came to judging people. He wouldn’t let Joel murder you—unless that whole charitable persona from earlier had actually just been a persona. They might have just been waiting for Ellie to become preoccupied before delivering a headshot. Your breath stuck to your throat; your head spun; a painful pulse drummed in your missing limb.

Joel pushed a door ahead of you open. He stepped aside to allow you a good look at a slightly larger, more light-looking room inside. You took a half-step backward, tensed to run. In the same moment that Joel seemed to sense your intention to flee, to snap to attention so he could run after you, two gunshots sounded from somewhere within the compound. Distracted, Joel turned toward the source of the noise. Distracted yourself, you didn’t take the opportunity to spring away.

“We have word that an infected has been brought into the facility,” came Maria’s voice, crackling over Joel’s walkie-talkie. “Repeat, we have infected inside the facility!”

“Shit!” In a flash, Joel had lifted the device to his mouth. “Any idea where it is?”

“No. These morons shot the messengers before we could get that much out of them. Sounds like they brought them in a couple days ago. It won’t be a clicker, but we might have a runner, if they change before we can take it out.”

“I’ll check things out. Do you have Ellie?”

“She’s right here.”

Joel nodded, even though Maria would not be able to see him. Meanwhile, your cold sweat had returned in full force. Your head swiveled about, clicker-like, as you tried to take in your surroundings. Runners didn’t give you much warning before they came for you. A bell rang out across the grounds; people screamed; and Joel took several running steps past you before he turned back with a grimace.

“Get in there! And don’t fucking touch anything!” he said.

He was gone before you could answer. For a few tense seconds, you stood there, looking around with fear gnawing at your thinking process and your heart throbbing in your palms. Maybe—just maybe—Joel was right. At least inside the infirmary building there was only one exit, and if you closed the door, why would any runner have a reason to come after you? You pelted inside as quickly as your drained legs could carry you, then slammed the door shut, turned about, and slid down the flat surface, panting.

Then you heard the grunting.

Hesitantly, hardly daring to believe it, you looked up. Two beds were stationed in the sun-lit room, and one had twisted, dirty sheets sitting in tangled mounds across the mattress. An equally twisted, dirty man stood next to it. His eyes and shoulders rolled. A strangled moan broke from his busted lips. His face stretched to a horrifying degree as he stared down at you.

Newly turned. You knew that look anywhere. Fuck if that did you any good. Even if that man knew what was going on, that wouldn’t stop him from ripping your throat out—or worse. The best you could hope for was to appease him long enough to get the fuck out of there. With as smooth and slow a movement as you could manage, you rose from the floor.

“Look—”

Some wordless burble tore out of his mouth as the man threw himself at you. You jumped backward. Still unused to your new weight, you flailed upon landing—and knocked over several metal shelves holding medical supplies. The resounding crash bothered your assailant not at all. One shelf dug into your shoulder, but you stepped away quickly enough to avoid going. Your body swiveled around to try to make it toward the bed, but you tripped, forcing you to use your single hand to scrabble for the sheets.

All the while, the man screamed incoherently. How the fuck no one else had heard, you didn’t know. Really? Joel’s first thought hadn’t been the fucking infirmary? Or maybe he knew it was there, and he just wanted your death to look like an accident.

The man’s gait might have been no better than yours, but the next time he ran for you, he made it. You tumbled backward across the mattress and landed with your shoulders against the tile floor. His filthy teeth snapped at you again and again as you scrambled to get back on your feet. His clawed hands swiped through the air right in front of your face as he drew closer and closer to the upper half of your body.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you shrieked as your legs kicked wildly and uselessly in the air behind him. You threw your shoulders from side to side to no avail. You were going to die in a shitty fucking infirmary because of a fucking runner! The only thing you had was a fucking pair of scissors and—

—and why the fuck weren’t you using them? You twisted around, still kicking, beating the man around the face and head with your stump of an arm as you withdrew the scissors from your pocket. The movement caught the man’s attention. His mouth snapped closer to that arm.

“Not my other arm, motherfucker!” you shouted, and thrust the blades into his neck.

They weren’t exactly sharp. He didn’t stop moving. His hands crept around your neck, but you’d made a dent. Without waiting for further prompting, you stabbed again—and again and again and again. Blood splattered your face, but as long as you kept your mouth and eyes shut, you didn’t have anything to worry about. More worrying was that the man kept squirming, and your stump wasn’t doing much to hold him down. “Stay down, you—”

A single gunshot rang out in the room. The man fell still. Then he rolled off you, landing with a thud on the floor at your side.

Joel stood in the doorway, illuminated by the light outside. The barrel of his rifle leaked smoke into the air, and one of his eyes remained looking straight down it until the runner gave a final, great twitch. You could hardly breathe. Every single fucking part of your body hurt.

He was kind enough to let you catch your breath.

“I think I need those new bandages now,” you said breathlessly, after several minutes had passed.

Looking distinctly disconcerted, Joel paused before putting his gun back up and walking inside to scoop up a wad of bandages left on the floor. “Yeah,” he said as he bent down to help you get onto the nearby bloodstained bed. “I’ll get right on that.”

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hongcherry · 1 year

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pretty please (stay with me) || c.sc [SERIES TEASER]

"After being assigned a fashion show for your big senior project, you set off to find volunteers to make it successful. However, when you meet Choi Seungcheol and his unfriendly clique through your volunteers, you realize they’re an unwanted package deal you can’t escape from. Can you handle Seungcheol's obnoxious friends, and can he handle your brash behavior?"

🍒 Pairing: businessMajor!Seungcheol x fashionMajor!Reader (afab)

🍒 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Slice of life (!!!), slow burn, drama, fluff, angst, smut; Unrequited enemies to lovers (lol), strangers to lovers, college au

🍒 Warnings: [teaser] bantering, a mention of murder in a joking way

🍒 Word Count: [teaser] 417 | [full] well over 30k, chaptered

🍒 Release Date: August 2023

🍒 Author's Note: Eeep~ very nervous and excited to fully release this series! If you're interested in this story, please consider joining my taglist! ♥️ More info/tws/etc will be with the full fic.

Disclaimer: Text was slightly edited from the full story.

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When Seungcheol answers another question with a vague response, you can’t stop the groan from escaping your mouth.

“Are we playing twenty questions?” you exasperate, rolling your eyes.

“We can,” Seungcheol says with a shrug. “You asked three already—more if you start from the time I sat down.”

Exhaling a deep breath, you put your forehead on the hand that’s propped on the table. The conversation is slowly draining your energy.

“Seungcheol,” you warn. You are not about to play a guessing game with this man. “Please.”

“Oh, so that word is in your vocabulary.”

“Yes. Would you like me to use it in a sentence?” you question, pitch raised as if you’re talking to a toddler. You lift your head to glare at him.

“Sure,” he smirks and leans forward. He still holds his hair back and this time, you can really see the way he is goading you.

“Please fuck off,” you grin widely. Your head tilts to the side as you push your arms together to act overly cute.

“Please make me,” he counters. The smirk he wears is still plastered on his lips.

“If we weren’t in public, I would,” you say, voice going back to normal as you relax your body—the cute act over.

“Oh? How?” he chuckles. From how he looks at you, you know his mind has gone elsewhere.

You push at the arm that is stretched across the table. “Because I would rather not get caught for murder, you pervert.”

Seungcheol laughs and sits back, letting his hair fall back into his eyes. It’s the first time you notice he has dimples. Your first impression is that they’re cute, but you quickly recall who they belonged to and shove that thought from your mind.

“Seokmin wanted to let you know he lost your card,” he finally discloses. “Asked if you could give him another.”

“If he lost a simple card, is he really reliable?” you sigh as you grab another from your purse.

“The good news is those stage lights are so big, he won’t be able to lose those,” he says, taking the card from your hand.

“Thankfully,” you mutter. “I hope you’re better than Seokmin at not losing things.”

“I’ll get this to him, don’t worry,” he replies and puts the card in his suit jacket before standing up.

“Thanks for the talk,” he says as if you had a choice. “I’ll see you around.”

You would have doubted that, but you know that won’t be true.

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planetsstarsandmoons · 2 years

Text

Random Synastry observations: partly based on my personal experience part 2

Mars trine venus: I love this aspect because the (physical) attraction is just there and it can, opposed to most aspects of attraction, grow steadily more powerful overtime. If you neglect it or cut the relationship off, it will not ‘fade’ or result in brooding tension that blows up in your face, it will simply become dormant. It’s always there. This aspect is a bit underrated, because it doesn’t represent the racey combination of most mars and venus aspects. The ideal example of this aspect is an end-game couple in a sitcom. ‘They’ve always been attracted to each other’, ‘they’re a couple now, funny jokes about their sexy time’, ‘they broke up and ~stayed friends but the attraction of course is still there~, still nothing to worry about or upset the plot for~~’ ‘okay one night then for a special episode’ ‘oh goshh what will these non-erratic people do now!!1!’ and then they realise the other was ~the one~ all along and, after an elaborate first two seasons for the audience to warm up to the match, the writers realised the audience was of course shipping them from day one, because the characters are just so compatible and have such good wholesome chemistry it’s too plain to see.

Lilith conjunct ascendant: Personal taste! I like it when someone’s presence and manner of physically existing seems to suit someone’s dark side so much, that that person can’t stop thinking about that someone. Morning noon and night- lilith is like an imprinter here. This aspect can definitely ruin marriages if the man’s lilith tightly conjuncts another woman’s rising. Think lindsey buckingham obsessively brooding over stevie nicks for almost 50 years. On one hand, ascendant can feel not embraced, but as if an interesting, ~dark~ but somehow pleasant liquid is literally ‘taking’ them. On the other hand, if they’re fighting, it will feel like lilith is trying to swallow ascendant in their negative energy. This aspect is especially grim when a man’s lilith conjuncts the woman’s ascendant. In the courting stage, that dynamic is so funny, because the man with the lilith will just be angry at you for no reason and look at you with these intense and protruding eyes, even when they’re not the plutonic type at all. I’m a sag rising, so I know that most guys who are two years older than me (year 2000) have this aspect with me. Without knowing their birth times, I can basically guess their zodiac sign based on how strong I think their lilith is conjuncting my ascendant 😂 you forget about them, go about your ascendant business and then you exchange looks and remember that they’ve ‘remembered’ (👹) you, so to speak. It’s not an aspect that makes the ascendant drawn to lilith (self protection) but more one that makes them take an interest in lilith.

Mars 2nd house: prolonged courting

Mars/venus 12th house or mars/venus in pisces : passive courting

Mars in 7th: passive aggressive courting 😂 no, that depends on the mars sign really, but it’s really the planet of aggression falling into the house of libra, which is the fall-sign of mars. It normally doesn’t matter, because venus x mars always creates a passionate and romantic aspect, but the overlay is really like mars bonking on the seventh house’s door while she’s in her beauty sleep. You have to understand it.. It has enemies to lovers potential that falls into the water because 7th house sees mars as their ideal fantasy and mars already has a crush on the 7th house person 😂

Pluto conjunct ascendant: some sagittarius risings of generation z are always going to have people their age, namely those with more natal plutonic influences, have a ~certain~ kind of attraction towards them in relationship. Their looks and appearance will stir something deep inside the pluto person, and the ascendant person will automatically see pluto as a grounding, dark intensity. It creates a lot of attraction, but if when young and underdeveloped pluto won’t know wether to hate ascendant and think they’re ‘cringe’ (because ascendant basically embodies and confronts them with their intense, darker and secret self. Even worse if ascendant is naturally confident..🤭 ) or be sort of intrigued by them. Girls growing up with this natal aspects easily got hated and called ‘annoying’ by everyone. Imagine them having this aspect with people their age for the rest of their lives 😭 I can do a whole post on natal pluto conjuncting ascendant and the experience of growing up with that 😂

Moon square saturn: there is such a blockade here to actually becoming something. This blockade is almost magical in the sense of how powerful and unmoving it is in itself. Moon and saturn are very unmoving and hearty heavenly bodies in astrology, so it’s understandable. I’m going to tell a story: I’ve had moon square saturn synastry in a way that most people don’t have this aspect: I had this aspect with someone in my student house whose sun was conjuncting my ic, we had a fourth house stellium in both synastry and composite, venus was conjuncting my moon and the rest of our compatibility indicated all sorts of no shame, reading each others minds, lilithane qualities, etc. We also clearly liked each other in whatever way, saw each other as soulmates (vertex conjunct north node people 😭), thought the other attractive, but ‘being together’?? Well, in the first months we just looked each other in the eyes for entire seconds~ like we were the lead characters in a season of Bridgerton and every time we felt some sort of romantic shift (after talking or something) we would literally RUN away 😂 and the courting stage was literally just that; being friends who were ‘moving away’, leaving the room, suddenly ignoring each other, shifting our position, not saying anything.. and bit by bit we became so purely aware of each other and the connection we had. When it went on long enough, we just looked at each other and immediately knew. The tension became worse and worse and the romantic subtext became the elephant in the room for us. Moon square saturn means deep and meaningful chemistry through the harsh nature of the square and the nature of the planets themselves, but of course it didn’t play out as something like venus square mars. Our connection became the elephant in the room, but the tension wasn’t sexual or playful romantic attraction. The tension had themes like karma, responsibility, ‘we should actually be together’, ‘why aren’t we romantically responding to each other’, ‘because we’re both too shy’. I almost felt this annoyance from the moon person. We couldn’t look at each other without immediately knowing and having that heaviness of moon square saturn. So it was kind of awkward, because we didn’t express anything concretely, but we both knew. And only way later we dared to cross the line, after basically being training-wheeling into having our first kiss. This is an aspect that really can’t be rushed in my opinion. It would just make the first date or cuddle etc super awkward. I wouldn’t say it’s a slow burn aspect because there is not really any burning here 😂 nor pining. That isn’t to say that your relationship won’t have any pining and burning (because we did have that) but this aspect doesn’t provide that. It provides a heaviness that makes both people apprehensive and inward about their feelings for each other. Anyway, I’m rambling here~~~ almost forgetting to say that once these people are together, their love is soo pure, and they will most likely never leave. The sense of (emotional) duty and rigidness in your romantic life is too heavy for that. When they break up, it will leave a looong period of heartbreak. @/lilmajorshawty once remarked that she saw this aspect a lot in older widowed couples that refused to ever remarry after their partner had died. Good luck if this happens to be a key aspect in your chart.

Moon in third house: so in theory, this aspect is not very karmic and can almost feel plain, because the third house isn’t seen as a romantic enough placement for the moon to be in. I beg to differ. In my experience, people love their moon third house overlays, including me. Finding a person you can intellectualise your emotions with right off the bat of meeting them, creates a cupido effect for most people. The moon-ness of the moon will bring out and safe-haven the vulnerability in third house’s thoughts and ideas, and draw out the underlying sentiment in their way of thinking. It’s like someone finally sees you! The moon will feel charmed by this level of friendship and openness, understood, seen, having a sense of comfort and communication with the third house person that takes them months to get even with their longtime friends. The house person will love to ‘house’ the moon this way and listening to the moon person open up will be second nature to them. I’ve seen that people can grow really important to each other with this aspect. Think of that one person you can always reconnect with, no matter what. Think of that one person ever that you’ve met with whom small talk actually went genuinely nice and smooth and pleasant, and not so small even.

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yourlocalmerchgirl · 4 months

Note

Congrats on 100 followers 🥳 Could i please request Rafael Barba with enemies to lovers/smut? Maybe reader is a detective and they’re constantly butting heads over cases and they’re forced to work together on his office on a case to sort it out and things progress from there 😏

Anon! Thank you so much for this task! It was so nice to write someone thing for Barba again 🫶 I’m so sorry that it took me awhile to get this to you! I started one but didn’t like how it was coming out so I started over and came up with this. It’s a little different than you asked for it’s more lovers-enemies-lovers with smut and a healthy does of everyone’s favorite bestie Carisi! I really hope your enjoying it. If not I can try to write something else for you!

Warning: MDNI 18+ NSFW

Fighting, mentions of alcohol. Undefined age gap. Mentions of therapy. Reconnecting. Strong language. Unprotected P in v. Pet names

You were getting ready to go out, so excited to see your old friends. One of your best friends bands was touring and they were playing in the city tonight. You hadn’t seen any of them since the last time they came through and they called to ask if you’d come out and run their merch table for the night. Rafael wasn’t super happy about you going. With the types of cases he dealt with every day he always worried about you when you went out without him. You didn’t go out often like this unless you had friends coming through to visit.

“What’s the plan again?” he said for piece of mind.

“I’m walking to the venue now while it’s light out to meet up with everyone for a pre show dinner. Then Carisi is going to pick me up after since it’s right near the station and bring me home. If he doesn’t the band will bring me home or I’ll just walk to the station”

“You know I can come pick you up?”

“I know, I asked Carisi because I know you’ve been working so late and are stressed with work, so I’m just trying to let you rest”

“I’m not going to get any rest worrying about you”

“Rafa, I’m going to be fine. This isn’t my first time on earth” you giggled

“I’ve gotta get going to dinner, I love you!” You said as you stopped to give him a big hug and a kiss.

—————-time lapse————

The show had just started and you were all set up at the merch table.

9:30 Carisi: Hey, it’s been a quiet night so I’m out now. You want some company or I can come back later for you.

9:31 (Y/N): yea! Come check out the show, I think you’ll like it. You can help me sell merch!

9:32 (Y/N): I put your name on the guest list. So just give the door guy your name and they’ll let you in.

About 15 minutes later Sonny shows up, a couple drinks in hand. “This is awesome! Are these your friends?” He said excitedly. “I got you a drink if you’d like one”

“Sure, Thank you! My friends are up next”

You didn’t drink much but you, Rafael and Sonny went out for drinks sometimes so he knew what you drank.

Your friends band takes the stage and you guys are having a blast. After they played Carisi bought a round of drinks for the band and the two of you. You were so excited to see him having such a good time and you were excited to have people from both of your worlds together.

You guys were all hanging out around the merch table with the band and this guy comes up and starts talking to you.

“Are you here with anyone? Can I buy you a drink?”

With out thinking you reach for Carisi’s hand, who’s standing behind you. When you do he turns around and puts his arm around you while your still holding his other hand.

“Sorry I’m here with my boyfriend” you said

Carisi pips up with a “beat it pal she’s taken.”

The guy apologizes and walks away. Your thanking Carisi for going along with it when your hear someone yell “what the fuck is going on here” You turn around to see Rafael. “Why is your arm around her?!” He yelled.

“Rafael it’s not what you think, please don’t yell.” You said. You could feel your face turning beat red. Everyone was staring at what was going on.

“Well it certainly looks like you two have something going on behind my back”

“W-what? Rafa do you hear….”

“Get your stuff we’re leaving” he said cutting you off.

The car ride home was silent, neither of you said a word. You just sat there looking out the window not even looking at him. He barely put the car in park before you got out and headed inside to the elevator. He caught up to you while you were waiting for the elevator.

“So your not just not going to say anything?”

“I’m not doing this right now. I’m not going to get into a screaming match with you in the common areas of our building. It’s late, I’m not going to ruin anyone else’s night with this.”

Once inside our apartment he started in again. “So how long have you and Sonny had this thing going on?”

“There’s nothing going on with Sonny”

“Your really going to stand here and tell me that holding hands all cozy with my best friend is nothing?”

“It’s late and I’ve been drinking. I don’t really want to get into a screaming match with you over nothing right now. This guy was bothering me so I told him Sonny was my boyfriend. That’s literally all it is.”

“You expect me to believe that” he sneered

“Jesus Christ Rafa! I’m not fucking Sonny and Sonny is not fucking me! I was just trying to keep myself safe from someone who was bothering me, if you refuse to stop and think about things rationally and listen to me then that’s not my fucking problem.”

“If that’s true, then why the fuck was he there already? I though he was just giving you a ride home” he shouted with so much anger in his voice. The tone of his voice made your eyes well up with tears.

“He texted me part way threw and said it was a slow night, he was out early so he came to the show.

He just stared at you, like he didn’t believe you.

“I don’t know what you want me to fucking say Rafael if you don’t believe me ask Liv. We all know you love talking to her anyways.” You regretted it as soon as it left your lips. You didn’t mean for it to come out that way.

“Don’t ever fucking say that again he shouted before smashing the glass of scotch he had in his hand against the wall.

Compete shock rushed over your face. He had never done anything like that before.

He looked over at you to see you start trembling. You could feel your chest start to feel tight as a rush of dizziness followed right behind it. You knew you were having a panic attack.

“C-Cariño are you ok? I…I don’t know what came over me” his voice cracked.

You couldn’t get any words out, you just sat there trembling with you head in your hands trying to breath normal.

“Are you having a panic attack, let me help you Cariño”

Your head sprang up fast when you heard his foot steps getting closer to you.

“Don’t fucking come near me Rafa” you said putting your hand out to stop him.

He stopped dead in his tracks his eyes filled with tears and regret.

“I need to lay down, this is all to much for me right now, I need to relax so I can get this panic attack to subside.”

“Let’s go to bed” he said reaching out his hand for you.

“I…I’m more comfortable staying out here”

You curled up on the couch and stayed there until he finally shut off the lights and went to bed. You knew he would never be physical with you but the whole situation really shook you up. His wanting to protect you from the world was turning into jealously and it was escalating.

1:10am (Y/n): I’m really sorry about the situation tonight. I didn’t want any of that to happen. I was just trying to be safe.

1:11am Carisi: I’m very sorry too. I’ve never seen him like that before. Are you ok?

1:12 (Y/N): I’m really shook up, we got into a really bad argument once we got home. I really don’t think I can stay here right now. Do you think your brother in law would let you borrow his truck?

1:13 (Y/N): I don’t know where I’m going to go but Rafa and I need sometime apart.

1:15 Carisi: Stay here, you’ll have our own space and all the time you need to figure things out. I insist, I want you to be safe and feel safe. Can I ask did something happen? Did he hurt you? I’ll come there now.

1:15 (Y/N) I can’t do that to you, he already doesn’t believe that nothing was going on he might never speak to you again if I move in there. I don’t want to do that to you. No he didn’t hurt me.

1:16 Carisi: I’m not just his friend. Your my best friend as well. Your like my little sister and to me this is part of the promise I made him a long time ago that if he wasn’t around for any reason I’d do everything in my power to keep you safe.

As you wake up to a knocking on the door, you realize you must of finally let your body fall sleep. As you walk towards the door you hoped it wasn’t one of the neighbors that heard the fight last night. You didn’t even notice what time it was. You were still wearing last night clothes. You must of fallen a sleep in them. You catch your reflection in the mirror in the hallway. Your eyes were puffy and red from crying. You don’t bother checking the peep hole to see who it was. You open the door slowly to see Carisi standing there. “Shit shit shit is it already that time” you though to yourself. You hadn’t gotten any of your stuff ready. Looking down at your feet “I’m really sorry I have nothing ready yet, I woke up to you knocking on the door. I must of finally fallen asleep and not woken up when Rafael was getting ready for work.”

“It ok, I brought some boxes for you, I thought you might need some I don’t mind helping you”

You go into the bedroom and start packing up your clothes and personal items out of the bathroom while Carisi packed up your stuff from the rest of the house. Most stuff was Rafael’s or your stuff together so you didn’t have a ton of just your own stuff. The two of you finished packing and got the truck loaded up. “Go ahead down and I’ll be down in a minute, I want to leave a note for Rafa.”

Rafael,

I think it’s best for us to take a break and for me to not live here right now. I’m truly sorry for what was said on my part to upset you. You are my world but I need to figure out what’s best for me.

♥️ Cariño

The car ride to Carisi’s place was quiet. You were just so mentally and physically exhausted, your heart hurt and you really just didn’t know what to say.

You guys got everything all moved into the your new room, it would just take time to get settled. Carisi had gone out before he picked you up and bought you a bed so that would have one.

You were eating dinner in your room with the door shut. Not because you didn’t want to eat with Sonny but because you were trying to decompress from the last couple of days and just zone out without having to talk. You also didn’t want Sonny to see that you weren’t very hungry because you didn’t want him to worry.

You start To doze off when you hear Rafael’s voice talking to Sonny.

“Do you know where (Y/N) is? She moved her stuff out but I don’t know where she went.”

“She…she is here, but I’m not really sure if she wants to talk to you right now”

“What do you mean?”

“I should of known she was here, where is she? Is she in your bedroom?”

You here foot steps start to move around.

You open your door and step into the doorway.

“It’s ok Sonny I’ll talk to him….as you can see I’m here in my own room. Not in Sonny’s room because once again we’re not together.” You say with complete exhaustion in your voice.

Sonny goes into is room shutting the door to give you privacy but knowing he would come right out if things got heated.

“I got the note you left” he said talking it out of the pocket of his dress pants.

“If your not messing around with Carisi then why did you move in here?”

“Because I needed somewhere safe to live while I figure out what to do.”

Cutting him off as he started to speak.

“And before you start. I’m not saying it’s not safe at home. I’m saying we need some time apart to work on ourselves before we think about getting back together.”

“I-I just don’t get it. I don’t understand why you needed to move out and move in here if nothings going on. We can work things out.”

“If you don’t understand why you smashing a glass against the wall in our kitchen wouldn’t absolutely terrify for me, then I just don’t know what else to say to you. I shouldn’t of made the comment I did about Olivia. I admit that and I’m sorry that I said it, I regretted it the second that I did. But the anger in you voice and in your eyes that night when you threw that glass was scary. I’ve never seen that in you before. You got so heated about a situation you wouldn’t even let me explain to you. So I felt it was best to leave for a while. I love you so much Rafa, but the way our relationship has been functioning for a while now isn’t healthy for either one of us. We both need to work on ourselves if this is going to work. You need to work on not treating everyone in your life like there a victim from one of your cases. You need to trust people more and not work yourself to death constantly. That night I did something I’ve been doing since I first started going out to concerts with my friends, which was tell any guy that was being creepy or making me nervous that I was dating which ever guy friend I was there with so that they would back off or leave me alone. It’s simply something I’ve done to keep myself safe over the years.” By this point tears are streaming down your face. Sonny must hear you crying because he comes out of his room.

“It’s ok (Y/N) go into your room I’ll check on you when he leaves” he says softly before turning to Rafael.

“Think you should go Barba, the last few days have been a lot for the both of you.”

“I-I fucked up so bad Carisi”

“If she needs time and space then give her time and space. It’s apparent to anyone who sees you guys that you two are madly in love. You just need some time apart to work on yourselves and if meant to be, you guys will find yourselves back to each other. Until then I will keep my promise to you and keep her safe anyway I can and make sure she has what she needs.”

t felt good to be back home in Manhattan, you had been back and getting settled in for a week. You had been in (state or country) helping Casey after the birth of her baby and loss of her husband for the last nine months. But you came back when her mom was able to move out there with her. It’s was a nice cool fall day, your birthday was in a couple of days so you decided to go to your favorite coffee shop, grab a drink and wonder around. When you walked in your favorite baristas we’re excited to see you. “(Y/N) your back! Would you like your usual?!” One shouted. You pay and move to the pick up counter to wait for your order.

“Here’s your order (Y/N)” “Thank you, I can’t believe you guys remember my order” you say smiling from ear to ear.

As your putting your straw in your drink you hear a voice from behind you.

“Cariño is that you?”

You don’t even have to turn around to know who it is.

“Rafa!” You exclaim as you turn around with a smile, and without thinking you put arms open to give a hug.

He squeezes you tighter than he ever had before. The biggest smile across his face.

“I’m surprised to see you here” you say.

He blushes a little “ well I started coming here after you left to work on cases…it reminded me of you. I-I didn’t know you were back”

“ I’ve only been back for a week” you reply.

“Would you want to take our coffees and go for a walk around Central Park? I hear the trees are beautiful right now.” He asks nervously rubbing the back of his neck, something he always did when he was nervous.

You grab your stuff turn back around and reply “I would love that” unable to control your smile.

You underestimated how happy you would be to see him, to hear his voice.

“Ok, I’ll grab my stuff and we can go!”the smile never leaving his face.

“Shall we” he says holding his out hand to motion leaving.

“We shall”

He held the door open for you as you guys made your way to the park.

You two wonder around the park chatting. You start fawning over the colors of all the leaves.

He lets out a chuckle with a warm smile.

“What?” You reply chuckling yourself.

“You’re so cute when you get excited about something that you love. It always makes me happy seeing you so happy and filled with excitement about something.”

You blush not really sure what to say. You manage to softly say “Thank you” as you try to stop from completely turning red.

“I always loved our fall trips upstate to go to all the farm stands around your birthday, so we could get all the fall treats”

Him saying fall treats remind you that you have a apple hand pie still from the coffee shop in you purse.

“Well speaking of fall treats” you say pulling the hand pie out of your purse. You both bust out laughing about it.

“Want half?” You say as you break it is half.

“Your so damn funny” he says as he takes the half.

“What can I say I like to make people laugh.” You say teasing.

“Want to go sit by the water and watch the ducks?” You suggest

“Sure, I’d love too” he reply’s

You two find a bench to sit at away from everyone else.

“We’re you back home staying with family when you were away?”

“Oh Sonny didn’t tell you? I thought for sure he was telling everyone”

“No I didn’t ask him anything other than how you were, I didn’t want him to feel any pressure”

“No I was in (state or country) staying with Casey”

“I was out there helping her out with her new baby”

“Did her husband recover from his accident?”

“I can’t believe you remembered about his accident”

“No…no he didn’t….he passed a couple weeks after I-I…after I moved out” you said looking down at ground. It made you sad thinking about both events. Not wanting to be reminded of either. Tears started to slowly fall from your cheeks. You try to turn away so that he doesn’t see you, but he does. He reached his hand over gently whipping the tears from your face. You lean into his hand a little, you missed everything about him. He slides closer to you on the bench putting his hand on your thigh, hoping you meant to lean into his hand. You leaned your head down onto his shoulder. You both let out a comforting sigh at the same time. You lift

you head up to look at him.

“Cariño I am so sorry for everything that happened. I regret the the moment I ever started treating you like that. But most of all I regret the night I smashed that glass and scared you. I’ve thought about that moment and the look in your eyes since the day you left. I fucked up, I know I did, I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’ve been working on myself to change for the better. After the way we left things with our final conversation, it made me realize how jaded work and all the cases were making me. I realized I truly was treating everyone in my life like victims in my cases. I was running myself ragged, not taking care of myself properly which made me on edge and angry all the time. I’ve started going to therapy every other week, a couple days a week I don’t work as late and if I am going to work late I’ve been trying to bring it home with me more or go the coffee shop instead of just going to the bar and doing it. Which in turn has made me cut back on drinking. I’ve missed you terribly (Y/n)”

“Oh Rafa I’ve missed you terribly too” you say reaching up to cup his face in your hand, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“I’ve been really hard to work on myself too. I also started going therapy while I was out there. I found a therapist from here that would do virtual session so that when I came back I could still go. I’ve been focusing on trying not to hold things in until I snap and everything comes out wrong. It’s a work in progress but I’m trying hard. Some of the things I’ve said to you or the way I acted wasn’t fair and for that I’ll always feel guilty for.”

He puts his arm around you and pulls you close to him squeezing you tightly.

He puts his head in the crook of your neck, you could feel his warm breath lightly on your neck. You two stay like that for a few minutes melting into each others arms.

Your phone rings and you step aside to answer it. He hears you say, “I’ll be home for dinner, why are you being so weird” before saying bye see you soon as you hang up.

You walk back over to the bench and sit down.

“Your boyfriend?” He asks nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

You turn to him quickly while scrunching your face up at him.

“No you loser, it was just Carisi.” You say teasing. Followed by “I haven’t been seeing anyone” in a softer tone.”

The look of relief washed over his face.

“Me either” he said softly.

“Did you get invited to dinner at Sonny’s tonight by chance?”

“I did…” a puzzled look on his face.

“He’s up to something he’s been weird all week since I got back…I think he’s planning something for my birthday”

“ Yea I was under the impression that we were video chatting with you for you birthday”

“Who’s we?” You ask inquisitively.

He shrugs knowing he probably said to much but he was also equally confused.

4:15 Carisi: When you get here will you come in and get her to wait a a few minutes and then have her come in? It throws the plan all off you guys seeing each other lol. Everyone else doesn’t know she will be here and she doesn’t know everyone will be here it’s a surprise for her but there’s also a surprise for everyone.

4:25 Barba: she knows somethings up but sure I’ll get her to do that. Sorry, weren’t expecting to run into each other. But I have to say it’s so nice to see her.

He stands up from the bench, and holds out his hand. “Shall we? I’ll walk with you” he says, not wanting to be apart from you. He wanted to hold on to the feeling of being in your company again for the first time all over again.

You look up at him with a smile, the sun lit his face up perfectly. “I’d love that.” You say as you take his hand and stand to meet him. He quickly laces his fingers with yours causing you two to hold hands. You didn’t even flinch, it just felt right. You guys just strolling through the city holding hands making your way back to Carisi’s apartment. It felt as though time stopped and you two were the only people on the planet.

“Ok so Carisi wants me to go in, have you wait 10 minutes and then you come in. Don’t ask me why.”

“Hahaha ok”

So he goes inside, you hang out in the lobby of the building for 10 minutes then head up to the apartment.

You unlock the door and slowly open it to a dark apartment. You turn around shut the door and take your shoes off. As you turn back around all the lights flick on and everyone jumps out and shouts “Happy Birthday (Y/N)!!” Even though you knew something was going on, your completely surprised by the party. “Amanda, Liv, Finn, Rafa I can’t believe your all here!” You say starting to cry from pure joy, it had been so long since you had seen your friends. “Dodds and some of the rookies took over for the night so we could all come, we wouldn’t miss it for the world, we’ve all missed you.” Liv said but everyone echoed the same sentiment. Your excitedly catching up with everyone when there’s a knock at the door.

“(Y/N) you should answer the door.” Carisi says a smirk on his face.

“I swear to god Sonny, if this is going to embarrass be in front of everyone I’m gonna kill you!”

You open the door cautiously, knowing it could be one of those famous Sonny pranks. You’re completely shocked when you open the door.

“Oh my god, Nick!” You shout In excitement.

You hear everyone behind you “What?! Amaro’s here?”

Carisi shouts “Surprise everyone!”

“I can’t believe your here!” you say before he gives you the biggest hug.

“Well Carisi said you could use some cheering up, so I thought it was about time I made a visit back to visit everyone” he said happy to see all his old friends again.

You were as close to Nick as you are with Sonny, after all he’s the reason you have all these amazing people in your life. He’s the reason you met Rafael and ended up with him. You met Nick through a friend you made when you first moved to New York, she was dating one of his friends at the time and the 4 of you guys would get together sometimes. You and him hit it off quick and became fast friends. Nicks wife was in the army and overseas for a couple years and you were new to the city and didn’t really have many other friends, so you guys would hang out often on his days off to offset each other’s loneliness. One night when your best friend from home was in town visiting you, you ran into Nick out with the squad celebrating the end to a case with a drink. That was the night I met Rafael for the first time.

After taking a trip down memory lane in your mind you snap back to reality. You motion everyone to come in for a big group hug, you start tearing up as everyone is hugging each other. Amanda noticing your crying. “(Y/N) is everything alright?

“I’m fine, all of you guys are all the most amazing friends a girl to ask for. I’m so lucky to have all of you guys in myself. This is truly the best birthday ever. “

Everyone gathered around the table for a incredible Italian feast. Sonny cooked all your favorite Italian dishes. You had a couple drinks and just sat there taking in how good it felt to be surrounded by your friends again. Dinner wrapped up and everyone had cake and sang happy birthday. Liv and Amanda said there goodbyes as they had to go in and take over for Dodds. Sonny, Finn, Rafael and Nick set up to play a few games of cards.

You hang out with the guys for a little while while they were playing poker.

You stretch and yawn. “Well enjoy your poker and beers boys, I’m gonna go lay down and watch tv”

“You really outdid yourself Sonny, thank you so much for making this happen.” You say as you thank everyone for coming and say your good nights.

You put on your comfy shorts and top and curling up in bed, putting on one of your favorite comfort shows. You’re dozing off when you hear a knock at your bedroom door, you tilt you head up and sleepily say “come in.”

You watch the door open and see that it’s Rafael.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” he says rubbing the back of his neck.

“No it’s ok, I was just comfortable” you say shyly.

You pull the blankets back a little.

“Rafa, Will you lay with me and watch a movie?”

His face lights up. “Id love too Cariño”

Fin, Nick and Sonny watch him go into your room and shut the door.

“Saying goodbye my ass, those two are defiantly getting back together” Fin jokes.

“Is it ok if I get more comfortable and just wear my undershirt and my suite pants?”

“Of course it it is” you say moving over in the bed to make room for.

He climbs in the bed, gets comfortable and then puts his arm around you rubbing your back with his hand.

You slide down laying on your side and nestle you head on his chest with your arm around his stomach.

You tilt your head “is this ok? I can move if it’s not” You ask with nervousness in your voice.

“No this is ok, I-I missed this” he says kissing your forehead and pulling you in tighter.

You hand the remote to him “you want to pick the movie?”

He puts on one of your favorite movies you two like to watch together.

In this moment your so relaxed, the feeling of him softly rubbing his hand up and down your back and the smell of his cologne put you at ease. You missed everything about him. You dozed off for a couple minutes but you were awoken by him playing with your hair. You tilted your head back to look at him, giving him a cute sleepy smile.

“Your getting tired Cariño, should I go?”

“No it’s ok, don’t go” you barely got the words out of your mouth before he leaned down and kissed you passionately. You sat up, putting your hand behind his head kissing him back. He licked your bottom lip for entrance, which you granted him. Your tongues dance together, your whole body burned. His touch sent shivers down your spine, making you instantly wetter than you’ve been. He moved to kissing down your neck and along your collar bone. You let out a breathy moan in his ear, as you do he pulls you on top of him. You sit up straddling him, you can feel his rock hard cock underneath you. As you take your top off he runs his hands all over your body, exploring every inch of it. He sits up too, kissing down your neck and the top of your breasts as he reaches around you to unhook your bra. He slids it off your shoulders and down your arms before throwing it on the floor. He kisses all over your breasts before making his way to you nipples, licking, bitting and sucking on them. Your body is on fire and your panties are completely soaked, you needed his body.

You step down off the bed onto the floor. You motion for him to stand too, getting down on your knees when he does. You undo his pants and pull them down, taking out his rock hard cock. You tease him at first running your tongue all around his tip. He lets out a deep breathy “fuck” as you take the the rest of him in your mouth, he runs his hands through your hair, leaving his hand on the back of your head. Your sucking gets stronger as as your motion gets quicker, occasionally pulling back to just the tip to tease him.

You stand up and turn your back to him, bending over in front of him. Pulling down your shorts and panties giving him a show.

“You’re so fucking sexy” he says in a deep voice as he comes up behind you spanking you hard and grabbing a hand full of your ass.

You stand up and when you do he wraps his arms around you from behind pulling you up against him, his hard cock pressed against your ass. He starts rubbing your clit, you throw your head back moaning as he starts kissing your neck at the same time. “Fuck me Rafa, I can’t take it any longer” you moan out already ready to climax, your body burning from head to toe. He bends you over the side of the bed. Running his hands down your back and spanking you hard when he gets to your ass. You moan out in a long breathy moan, enjoying every second of it.

“Spread your legs for me” he says in his deep voice as he’s rubbing your ass. He teases you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, before sliding inside of you. He grabs your hips as he pulls in and out of you, pushing deeper with every thrust.

“Mmm Rafa, I’m so close” you moan out.

“cum for me baby” he reply’s as he spanks your ass. His thrusts get faster as he reaches around you and starts rubbing you’re clit as he’s thrusting fast.

You push your self up with your arms arching your back. You start to feel your self release as you start to climax.

“Fuck Rafa, don’t stop I’m so close.” You scream as you moan out. As your muscles tighten and you climax all over his cock.

He moans thrusting all the way in before he pulls out, cumming all over your ass. It was something he liked to do, but he also did it because he didn’t know where you two stood and he didn’t know if you would want him to cum inside you. You slowly stand up trying to catch youre breath. He hugs you from behind kissing your shoulder and whispering, “I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve really missed you too” you whisper back before you both climb back into bed.

“Come home, Cariño”

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #law and order svu #raul esparza #sonny carisi #anon ask #fanfic #fanfic wip

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