#easy to hate chapter 11

[imnotobsessedwfictionalchracters]

Chapter 11: Let The Games Begin

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. If I did, Albus would not be named Albus.

Apologies for legit disappearing again. Last time I updated I was finishing my Junior year of High School and I just graduated about 2 weeks ago! So I finally have time (and inspiration) to get back to writing again!

If Anneliese ever seems like she just...randomly gets really aggressive, don't quesiton it. Girl is going through puberty and has a lot of things going on at home that I know about but y'all don't (at least not yet).

Also, just in case anyone noticed, I did go back and rename the previous chapters because I thought of better names okay? Okay! *thumbs up*

Anyways, this is also posted onto my Fanfction.net account SomeKind0fMagic and my Wattpad somekindofmagic1 so you can check it out on there too!

Love Z <3

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Albus screamed as his covers were torn off of him and there was a yelling in his ear. Grabbing his glasses while mumbling and annoyed, "What the hell?" He looked around his room, a breath leaving his lips as he saw the red hair of his sister and his "Lily? Annie?" He saw the red hair of his sister and the short black hair of his best friend. "What're you guys doing waking me up at," He looked at the clock and groaned, "4 AM?" He looked at them again, as the sleep fogged his brain, he grew even more puzzled as to why they were fully clothed. "And what're you guys doing dressed?"

He heard Lily gasp dramatically, "Because...today's the Quidditch World Cup!" Albus ran his hand over his face, slowly waking up still, "And Mum has to get there by 6 AM so she can start to interview the two teams!" He rolled over onto his stomach, about to pull a pillow over his head with one of them grabbing it from his hand. "Mum wants you up so we can eat together. Now hurry up! We still need to get James up!"

He grumbled about being up and everything as he heard Annie sigh, "Lily, go on and wake up James. I'll make sure Albus gets up."

He heard a humph before a slight annoyance filled voice of Lily spoke again. "Fine." As he heard her fading footsteps, he felt his eyes grow heavy again and began to feel the comfort of sleep wrap around his cold body.

But before he could be rewrapped in the comfort of sleep, he felt a hand on his ankle before feeling his entire body being yanked down the bed. He screamed and turned around, finding Annie really was still there, staring at him. "Come on Albus. Told your mum I'd get you up so," She grabbed his arms and tried to pull him up. "I'm doing it." She walked over to his closet and looked inside, trying to find clothes for him to put on. "Besides, if you don't then I'm pretty sure that James will eat all the food."

He glared at her as he slowly walked over to her and grabbed a shirt hanging. "You're cold."

She shrugged and looked at him, "I have 6 older brothers, I've learned how to get you idiots up." She crossed her arms, "So are you gonna get ready now?" He grumbled as he pulled the shirt he had on, off. Just as he pulled the clean one on, he heard her continue. "And besides, I could've gotten ice cold water to pour on you." Barely, he saw her smirk, "And I still could."

His eyes widened as he began to move much quicker. "Alright. Alright. Just gimme a minute." She nodded as he looked around and grabbed a pair of pants. He was about to pull his pajama pants off when he remembered that Annie was there. He turned to her, "Can you like...turn around?" He watched as she rolled her eyes but did what he asked. Mumbling something about it not being like she'll actually see anything.

As he slipped his pajamas off and the pants on, he watched her walk out of the closet and back into his bedroom. He let out a sigh as he made his way back into his bedroom, running a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it. But almost as soon as he stepped out, his brush hit him square in the chest, he gave Anne a look as she just laid back onto his bed.

"Ow?"

He heard her scoff, "Please, that didn't hurt."

"It could've."

"But it didn't." She pushed herself up on her elbows and he started to try and brush out his hair. "Trust me, if my sister Elina, who is almost 6 can handle it, you, a whole 12 year old, can."

He snorted, "Whatever." He tossed his brush back onto his bed, "Let's go."

She looked at him as if he was crazy, "No. You cannot possibly think that your hair is good."

He touched his hair and looked at it through the old mirror on his wall before looking back to her, "What?"

She grabbed the brush from off his bed and pulled him back over to his bed. Sitting behind him, she began to brush through. "I would be sorry for this ending up hurting, but the fact is, this is your own creation." He mumbled something about it being okay as she ran the brush through his hair. Neither of them even noticed his mum leaning against the door. "Seriously Al, do you ever brush your hair? It's like a bird's nest here."

"I think it's genetics." He mumbled, "My mom always has complained about all of our hair. Saying that it's from our dad."

She snorted as she finished up brushing through, running her hands through his hair as she went through, a finishing part in order to get it flatter. She sighed heavily as she tossed the brush over to the other side of the bed. "I think that's the best I can get, Al. Your hair is going to be my enemy as long as we're friends."

"Should I be sorry or should I just accept fate?"

"Accept your fate and you shall die peacefully."

"That is definitely smoother than I ever have gotten it."

The two kids started laughing but both let out a small scream and jumped, both nearly falling off of his bed, as they heard his mum speak. Their laughs transferred to her as they jumped, her hands coming up with her palms out in a surrender form. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you kids, I honestly had assumed you saw me." She sighed and pushed herself off of the wall, "If either of you want to eat before we head out, I would recommend going now. We need to leave in 10 minutes. Your dad and Uncle Ron just left plus Lily and James are currently eating so you have about 5 to get down there and get food."

As his mother said those last words, Albus practically jumped off his bed before running downstairs. Annie followed after him, shaking her head in amusement as his mother looked at them with fondness.

--------

Music and noises of all kinds surrounded everyone as they walked towards the site of the game. Just down the hill from the Portkey, the muddy old boot that they had been using since before Albus or even James had been born.

As they neared the tents and the people, Albus and Anne held onto Lily's hands tightly. Ginny had asked them to keep an eye on Lily, just in case there were any other reporters that would take photos of them, despite continuous wishes from Harry asking them to not take photos of his kids. The two of them knew that if they saw any camera pointed at them, they would start running (or smush her head into one of their chests).

But thankfully, that didn't have to happen. No one paid them any attention. All preoccupied with making sure that they were at their tent and everything was set up for them. Eyes more glued on the families of the players anyways. That was mostly who was there. Reporters, players and their families, plus a few Aurors and Hit Wizards. Those who chose to work the pregame instead of the main part so that they could enjoy the game with their families and friends.

Before they entered, Ginny looked at them all, "Alright, I should be back in an hour or two." She looked at all of them, well...mostly her kids and Anne. "Behave. Hermione is here if anything goes wrong, which nothing better happen. Understand?"

They all nodded, muttering agreements to be good. Anne even felt a small hint of joy that Ginny was being that way with her too. She was used to it from the parents of her other friends, but they had known her since she was born, Ginny hadn't. So the fact that she was treating her as she treated her own kids left her with a small sense of joy, something even Albus could see.

As she walked away, the four kids walked into the tent. James quickly made his way over to Rose and Hugo while the other three walked over to sit by Hermione. They watched in amusement as the other three began to place bets on who would win. But Albus felt a small tinge of guilt and envy as he watched them.

Guilt because Lily should be with them. She should be sitting with him and his friend. She shouldn't already be outcasting herself from their family just because they outcast him for his house. He felt as if she shouldn't be doing that. That she should be betting with them. He had seen the way that her and Hugo hadn't been as close as they always had been. Guilt ate at him, terrified that it was because of him. He knew that even at age 10, Hugo wanted nothing more than to have the acceptance of his dad. Something Albus was growing to understand.

A growing wish to be able to not disappoint his parents. But feeling like he wouldn't be able to just because of what house he was in. Something he hoped that Lily wouldn't have to feel.

And he was envious of them. Envious that they were laughing and playing with each other. He could only think about how that was him and Rose just a year ago. Laughing. Playing. Being friends. He didn't...couldn't understand why they now hated him because he was in Slytherin. Their parents, especially his and James', had raised them without that prejudice. Raised them to understand that house doesn't define a person, their actions do.

Him being friends with Scorpius Malfoy shouldn't have cost him his brother as well as his favorite cousin and best friend.

Deep down, he knew that he shouldn't be 12 years old and feeling all of these feelings. But he did and he couldn't control it. All he could do was hide it and pretend that he was okay. Because he was. Or at least he will be.

"--Yeah? Well at least Albus and Rose only have to wait 2 months before he can try out for the team! I have to wait another whole two years! It's totally unfair!"

Albus blinked his eyes a few times, trying to focus back into the moment. Not even having realized he had zoned out. "You're trying out Al?"

He shrugged, mind catching up and realizing that they were talking about Quidditch and tryouts for the house teams. "Yeah, I decided why not. I mean, there's no guarantee I'll make it. Slytherin isn't known for accepting second years plus don't we still have a Seeker?"

"Yeah? And? No one likes Dom on the team. He was just the only person that came close to being good. We've barely won a single game since he joined. Plus you have like...this whole legacy around you. Both of your parents, your dads dad, the majority of your mum's brothers! I mean seriously, if you don't make the team, Matt is literally crazy."

He rolled his eyes, "Sure. whatever." He laid his head in his hand, "So...when are you supposed to meet up with your family?"

"Probably whenever you guys head to your seats. I'll stop by and see if they're still at our tent, if they are, then I'll stay with them. If they aren't then I'll head over to our box." She snorted slightly, "We're sharing with the Malfoy's this year. Scor and I have a bet going on how long it's gonna take for Astoria to try and smack my dad."

He laughed, holding his hand over his mouth as an attempt to silence them but he couldn't. All he knew of how Scorpius's mum was with Annie's dad came from what they had told him. To his knowledge; Mrs. Malfoy hated Annie's dad. Said he was too controlling for her liking and apparently and almost threw a punch over something he had supposedly said.

Eventually, the laughter died down and Hermione spoke, "I honestly hope that the Welsh beat the States. That team isn't really good at anything, but the fact that they always choke out at the most important games."

"Sounds like the Slytherin team. We can do good until it matters. The few times we are in the running for first or second, we, well really Dom, chokes up and lose terribly and somehow end up in last place or barely making it to third. It's bloody ridiculous."

"Well that's stupid." Lily muttered and Annie nodded, laying her head on the table in front of her.

"But it's sadly true, do they still expect ya'll to play dirty?" Hermione asked softly.

Albus shrugged, "I have no clue."

But Anne nodded, "Yeah, they do." Albus glanced over at James as Annie spoke. He saw the glare in his brother's eyes. "It's ridiculously stupid, they know we won't. We can't risk it. And yet some teams try and provoke us." She crossed her arms, "I don't even care for Quidditch much but even I find that absurd.

A small layer of silence grew in the tent, not before James jumped up and declared something. Albus honestly didn't catch it as he watched the entrance to the tent. He knew Lily got up and went with James, but his attention was focused on the flaps that kept the tent closed. He wondered how the magic worked. How that if his parents hadn't given permission for a specific person to enter, they wouldn't be able to. That they would be shot back and away from the tent. He wondered how it worked. Did it work if the person was under the influence of polyjuice? Was the magic powerful enough to catch that or not?

He wondered if he hadn't asked them to, if they would have given Annie permission to enter. If they had given Scorpius. He wondered if his parents even liked his friends, he was so sure that they liked Annie, afterall, they were allowing him to stay the night and go to her brother's wedding that next week. There would be no way that they would let him do that if they didn't like her, right?

But maybe they just pretended to like her for his sake. She was one of his only friends now. Perhaps they only liked her because of that. Because at least that was someone who liked him, despite who his family was and the fact that he was becoming someone that he swore he wouldn't.

Despite the fact that he was growing and changing and slowly realizing just how different he was from the rest of his family.

--------

Albus had been at the pitch for nearly 18 hours by the time he was barely in his seat, watching as the two seekers shot down in order to catch the ever illusive snitch. He saw the way that they were neck and neck, hands outstretched, trying to grab the small golden ball. He saw the bludger making it's way to the seekers, holding his breath as the seeker for the United States pulled up and the bludger hit the Welsh seeker.

Near silence surrounded him as it felt as though everyone there were silently holding their breath. Waiting to see if the Welsh seeker caught the snitch. And that exact moment that they all saw him hold the snitch in his non-injured hand, cheers and screams erupted from the crowd. Albus looked at Teddy, who he was sitting by before the older boy engulfed him in a hug.

A pure feeling of glee and joy filled him up. A feeling that he rarely felt nowadays. He wasn't sure if he felt it from his team winning the game or the hug from his pseudo brother. But he knew that he felt it and that he needed to feel it. And he also knew that the tears that gently fell from his eyes weren't from joy, but sadness. A sadness that he was so sure would never leave him now.

--------

It was only 10:30 when they were finally out and back at the tent. Since they were celebrating a win, no one had to start to wind down until 12:30 so there was still another 2 hours before all of the kids had to get ready to get some sleep. But Albus was starting to realize just how hard it might be to stay up as he was still catching his breath from celebrating with Vic and Teddy and Lily, his eyes growing slightly heavy as they sat in a circle and played the muggle game Go Fish. Their Aunt Hermione had brought a few packs of muggle playing cards for them in case they were wanted.

His back was against one of the couches, zoning in and out of everything going on that he barely caught Teddy's question. "How was your first year Albus?"

He shrugged, trying to think of what to say quickly. "It was alright. I mean...it was weird not being home everyday and all that. But it was fun for the most part. I made friends easily." He tried to keep out the sleepless nights following the first several weeks. The fights and slowly growing self-hatred inside of him. Hide the fact that he rarely found solace in much outside of those in his house anymore.

Teddy nodded, "That's good. I won't lie, I was shocked when Vic sent the letter informing that you had been put into Slytherin. Afterall, no one in the family really has, unless you count my grandmother but she isn't really your family and all." Teddy laughed to himself before he continued, "But once the initial shock settled, I began to question why I, and anyone else for that matter, were surprised. Slytherin house has so many good traits that you embody that I honestly couldn't imagine you anywhere else."

He looked at him inquisitively, still playing the game. "Like what?"

"For starters, you're very cunning and resourceful. You see a problem and face it headfirst, most of the time at least. You know your way around tricky situations and you take on the leadership role whenever you have to. You set goals for yourself and you make them. Or at least you did when you were younger. Plus, you tend to weigh the pros and cons before you do something. However, that one is rarer."

"Huh." He faded for a moment, as if he was trying to understand what Teddy had just said. It made sense for him to be in Slytherin? But why? Everyone acts like it was a mistake and that he was nothing like the other Slytherin's before he had joined that house. Why was Teddy sitting acrooss from him and saying that he couldn't imagine him anywhere else?

Quickly, he cleared his voice, realizing they were waiting for him to continue his thought. "I never realized I did that."

Vic and Teddy laughed and he felt a minor tinge of embarrassment. Should he have realized that already? That everyone fits into their house, regardless if they realize it when they were sorted? Should he have noticed that by the time he had finished his first year?

"Don't panic if you didn't realize that." Vic assured, "Truly, you don't realize how much you are like your house until someone points it out." She gave him a soft and gentle smile. Something he saw her give all the younger students whenever they came to her throughout the year. "I didn't realize how many Hufflepuff traits I had for myself, besides the stereotypical niceness. For my first two or three years, I had just thought that that was all I had, because everyone said that was my best trait, and just put me in Hufflepuff. Which is ironic as I was called shallow for years but yet also nice? Never quite understood that." She drew a card since Lily didn't have the card she wanted. "But, as I went on, more people began to point out how I am apparently extremely patient with everyone and everything. I, like Slytherins and other Hufflpuffs, am very dedicated to different things that I believe in. For example, I am bloody dedicated to our family and my schooling." She smiled and pulled her hair to the side, "And I'm also dedicated to becoming a Healer since I got confirmation that I made it in to start training."

"So...will I start to fit into more Slytherin traits as I finish school?"

His fear began to raise as he thought of that. Thought of the new ways that Rose and James would start to hate him because of that. Because he was more and more Slytherin and less and less Gryffindor. Would James hate him for joining the Slytherin Quidditch team after years of them planning on playing together, James as the Chaser and Albus as the Seeker. Being the best thing to ever happen to Gryffindor's Quidditch team since their dad.

Would the disappointment grow worse as he got older?

--------

The world was nearly silent around him as Albus laid in his bunk. All that he could hear was the occasional drunk voice of someone outside and someone inside the tent snoring. He knew that all he had to do was get up and wake Teddy up and ask to talk, but that thought scared him. What if Teddy didn't actually care and was just telling him that out of courtesy?

He turned and stared at the crimson fabric that was the wall of the tent. He wondered if Teddy was right? Did he already have a bunch of Slytherin traits? Traits that he didn't have before? Or at least that he hadn't noticed? Were these...things that made him, him. That made him Slytherin. Were these things more obvious now that he was a Slytherin? Was he really so cunning and resourceful? He didn't feel resourceful. Always having to ask Annie for help on work. Would, or more of does, he really try to make his goal, even through deception and lies? He couldn't remember ever making a goal for himself and succeeding. He wondered that when he got older, would he be so Slytherin and make his end goal through ways of anger and deceit? Would he lie in order to get what he wants?

And did he really become the leader whenever he had to? He tried to think back on a time that he did, but he couldn't remember a single time. He never was a leader, more of a follower. He had always followed James and Rose around. Always done what they did. He guessed that maybe he was the leader of his small friend group, but he would honestly rather put that to Annie than himself. She was much better at keeping everyone in line and making sure everyone did what they were supposed to.

She was the perfect example of a good and nice Slytherin. Not Albus. Albus was none of those things. He was a liar and a traitor who betrayed his family because he didn't tell the hat not Slytherin like his father had done all those years ago.

He held back a groan as he put a pillow over his ears, trying to drown them out as the seven words echoed in his head.

Cunning. Resourceful. Leadership. Goal. Achieve. Pros. Cons.

But they wouldn't go away. Those words were bouncing around in his head. Teddy's nice way of saying them turned to James' sneers. The sneers and words he had heard others say about him since he started at Hogwarts. The words got so loud that he began to think about what James had said before Annie had come over. What he had said about her coming over.

----

James clenched his fists, "You're such a bloody disgrace to the family! Mum and dad fight because of your bloody house and it's causing a divide throughout the entire family! Thanks to you influencing Lily to be so Slytherin and evil like you, she's fighting with Hugo more! Petty arguments turn into full scale fights, all because of your stupid influence on her! You're nothing but a coward who hides behind older students! You'll never get anywhere with that. One day, Green's siblings will be gone and there won't be anyone to protect you at Hogwarts anymore."

----

He held his pillow tightly and whispered to not cry. He didn't want to cry over something so stupid. Over something that if James found out, he would make fun of him for. He didn't want to cry. If he cried then he would prove James right. He would prove that it was nothing. That he would never be anything more than a coward because someone who wasn't wouldn't let someone say that to him.

But Albus did and he always would. All because he didn't want people to hate him more. All because he thought that maybe, just maybe, if he didn't fight back against James, then he wouldn't hate him anymore. That was all he had to do. Remain the same kid he was and then James will still like him

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 11: The Interview

Note: Didn’t really plan on making a chapter like this, but I thought we were overdue some filler before we got into some real drama. Enjoy!

You let out a loud agitated sigh as you power down your computer and slouch in your office chair.

Since you got back from Metropolis, you’ve been working on a free update to thank all your players for their support and voting to make Salvage Rights the Indie Game of the Year; working on an update that’ll satisfy the players and be easy to develop and implement was difficult enough, but all the drama with the Waynes made it even harder.

It’s been four fucking years since you left Gotham! Even when you moved back to Goodsprings, you couldn’t help but think about all they’d done to you, from Bruce acting like you’re an intruder in his “perfect” house to Damian being your personal demon. You’d managed to put hundreds of miles between yourself and them, but they still managed to have a hold on you. Sure, you knew you were in a home you owned fair and square, not Wayne Manor, but there were still instances where you caught yourself looking over your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you or peeking around corners to make sure a room was empty before you walked in.

Even with the Megamycete constantly reminding you, it took you the better part of a year to get it through your head that you no longer needed the survival tactics that had kept you alive in Wayne Manor as you’re the only one in your house.

It’s taken the last three years, but you were finally ready to move on with your life, look towards the future and leave Gotham, Bruce Wayne, and his merry band of bastards behind. You published your game, people loved it almost immediately, and you had been rewarded for your efforts with fame and fortune.

You finally free and could actually be happy for the first time in years.

Now, he and his children come and plague you, trying to drag you back to the place you hated from day one.

He made it clear that he never considered you his son (hell, what he said the night those three bastards kidnapped you proved that), always showering Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian with a fatherly love you had slowly realized would never be meant for you and shoved you aside in favor of showcasing the children he was proud of. Eventually, you were forgotten by both Bruce Wayne and the larger world as no one in Gotham’s media class ever asked where you were, why weren’t you with them at this party, or when was he planning on throwing you your own introductory gala like his other kids.

As time went on, you took steps to separate yourself from him, never telling anyone who your father was and only accepting Gould as your proper last name (although if you ever found some guy to marry you, you’d definitely be open to changing your last name).

Then, that son of a bitch shows up and ruins everything, your face plastered all over the news, primarily in Gotham and Metropolis, and you can’t go anywhere without people staring, whispering, and bombarding you with several questions (many of them being if you could set them up with your “siblings”).

You were finally living the life you’d dreamed about and he had to go and ruin it! You’d known that Bruce Wayne is a miserable motherfucker who can’t stand to see anyone around him to be happy (you’d listened in on plenty of arguments between him and the others whenever one of them tried to strike out on their own to figure that out), but you never thought that he’d be so petty he’d try to drag you, the son he never wanted, back when he saw you happy for once in your life.

You look down at your hands and imagine what it’d feel like to have them wrapped around his neck, squeezing the life out of him and seeing him realize that despite his strength as Batman, he was powerless compared to you; the relief you would feel as you saw the life leave his eyes as he accepted that the son he never wanted was the instrument of his destruction.

You revel in the brief sensation of satisfaction that passes through you from your daydream.

(You may get your wish,) the Megamycete says, bringing you out for your fantasy.

“How do you figure?”

It doesn’t answer, but you feel sensations of anxiety and apprehension radiate from it.

“What’s wrong,” you say, getting a little afraid.

Over the last four years, you’d never known the Megamycete to be afraid of anything.

So, seems like things are about to go from bad to worse in your life.

(We reached out to the Bats. They know of both our existence and our bond with you.)

“What,” you exclaim, standing up from your chair. “You told them? Why?”

(We thought we could reason with them for you. They—)

“How could you do that? Now they know about you! They weren’t going to stop coming and my only ace in the hole is you! I’ve lost that advantage thanks to you! For a sentient mushroom that has the knowledge of thousands of people, that was a pretty stupid thing to do!”

You’re pissed. Really pissed.

You had a feeling that the night with Bruce at the Gala wasn’t the end of things and all of his children visiting you proved it. The Bats have made it clear they’ll do whatever they must to accomplish their goals and for whatever reason, they’ve decided you’re their goal.

Sure, you went overboard a little demonstating your strength when dealing with Jason and Damian, but that they had no idea your strength came from the Megamycete and that was only the surface what you were capable of. If they decided to come at you in force, they were in one hell of a surprise when you fabricated hardened mold armor right in front of them and do to them what you did to Joker. You know they’ve fought plenty of villains with powers, but the mold is stronger than all of them combined and you’d make them regret ever meeting you as you tear them apart and scatter their intestines across the ground.

But now, thanks to the Megamycete, they know that you’re not alone and who knows what else?

(We are sorry,) it says, its tone remorseful. (We thought we could persuade them to leave you alone. We were wrong.)

“Yeah, no shit! If they weren’t listening to me, what made you think they would listen to you? Hell, you know how Bruce feels about metas, knowing I’m one probably made things worse! He’s probably making some cage to hold me right now!”

You tap into the roots scattered around Gotham and focus on Wayne Manor, but are surprised to find you’re unable to connect.

(They have started removing our roots. We have accelerated the growth of the surrounding roots, but they are taking steps to prevent their regrowth.)

“So, we have no idea what they’re planning. Great, that’s just great. Terrific job, man. Really, just superb.”

(We thought we could help.)

You exhale a sigh and wave a hand through your hair, trying to come up with a plan on where to go next.

“How did it go down, exactly? What happened?”

The Megamycete uploads its meeting with them into your brain and it flashes before your eyes, from the Megamycete torturing some of them by turning into their dead ones to them learning about you killing your would-be murderers and Joker and Harley.

You thought you hated Bruce Wayne enough, but apparently you don’t hate that man enough.

How someone can be so delusional is astounding to say the least. Honestly, he deserves to be thrown in Arkham and studied, along with all the others.

They ignore you for most of your life and treat you like shit and now that you’re finally happy, they want to drag you back to Gotham.

And why?

Because they “love you?”

Bullshit.

They feel guilty and they just want to feel better. You know no one in that damn house is capable of feeling real love and once they feel better about themselves, they’ll go right back to ignoring you.

(They are truly delusional. They think their past behavior does not matter and you should be brought back to their fold.)

Yeah, you got that from Jason. The bastard wasn’t able to get away from Bruce and Gotham (because despite all his bluster, all he wants is that man’s approval) and because he couldn’t do it, he thinks you shouldn’t be able to.

Selfish, all of them.

“You fucked up. They were going to find out eventually, but thanks to you, we’re gonna have to deal with them sooner than we expected.”

(We know. We overestimated our abilities and brought trouble upon you. We apologize. Truly, we do.)

You understand where its heart was in the right place, but it still doesn’t change the fact that the Bats are probably going to be breaking down your door any day now.

Just then, there’s a knock at your door, making you freeze.

Shit, are they already here? Are they in regular clothes or are they in their capes and cowls? Are they really that desperate to bring you back to Gotham that they’d really raid your house in the middle of the day for anyone walking by to see?

You tap into the roots surrounding your house and see not Bruce Wayne or any of his kids darkening your door. Instead, you see a black haired woman dressed professionally standing on your porch.

“Who the hell is she?”

(We do not know. She is definitely not a resident of Gotham as we do not recognize her.)

That certainly doesn’t make you feel better. You know Bruce is resourceful as hell and isn’t afraid to use any dirty trick in the book to get what he wants.

(She does not appear to have ill intents. She is too delicate-looking to pose a threat to you, nor is her purse large enough to hold a weapon large enough to harm you.)

Looks can be deceiving. After all, Bruce is a member of the Justice League, where Martian Manhunter is and you can see Bruce using the alien to transform and trick you into lowering your guard. When that man gets obsessed over something, he doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

Still, you can speculate to the moon and back, but until you open the door and talk to the woman, you’ll never know for certain. Sure, it could be related to your current Bat problem, or it could be something else.

So, you walk through your house and up to your door.

“Who is it,” you call out.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she responds. “I’m here to ask Y/N Gould for an interview.”

Lois Lane? You’ve heard Bruce and the others say that name when talking about Metropolis and Superman and you’ve seen the name when reading a few news articles for school assignments, but you’ve never seen any pictures of her, so you had no idea the woman standing on your doorstep is the very woman famous for being one of the very few reputable journalists left in the world.

You unlock the door and open it just enough to stick your head out to see her face to face. You look into her eyes and see no ill intent or hidden motives.

“Mr. Gould, I presume,” she asks, a gentle smile on her face.

“You want an interview with me? What for?”

“Your relation with Bruce Wayne. As I’m sure you know, he’s the most famous man in Gotham, if he so much as sneezes in public, several news articles are written to publish it. Gotham’s media has always covered whenever he adopted another child, but out of nowhere, he appears at a video game awards ceremony and claims you’re his son and you call him a sperm donor. No one can forget when Damian Wayne appeared at a gala and was declared Bruce Wayne’s biological son. It made quite the stir when you pushed him and made it clear you had nothing but animosity towards him.”

Oh yes, you can remember the many days of fawning Damian got when he moved into the manor, leaving you bitter since all you got was a few minutes of people asking about your mother before forgetting about you in favor of all the others.

“What is it you want,” you say, trying to remain polite. “I lost years thanks to Gotham and Bruce Wayne and I’m not eager to lose any more dwelling in the past.”

“I want to hear your side of the story,” she says with a determination that surprises you. “You clearly suffered due to him and I want to help you tell your story to the world.”

You’re actually speechless at that. You know pretty much all of Gotham worships at the Alter of Wayne and his influence expands far beyond the city’s borders, leaving very few people willing to hear anything that would portray him in a negative light. It’s very safe to say Gotham is a cathedral dedicated to both Bruce Wayne and Batman.

To hear that someone with a reputation and influence like Lois Lane would want to listen to you and help you tell others your life’s story is nothing less of a shocker.

“I can’t say you’ll like what I have to say, Ms. Lane,” you say as you open the door wide and stand in the doorway. “I know Bruce Wayne is an institution of Gotham, but I can tell you that wasn’t my experience.”

“This isn’t about my opinion on Bruce Wayne or any of his children. This is about what you experienced during your stay in Wayne Manor.”

“And how much are you wanting to know?”

“Everything. Or, as much or as little you’re willing to tell me.”

Her words strike you to your core. It’s been years since you’ve had anyone really interested in what you have to say. Sure, Alfred was always willing to listen to you, but you learned early on that you had to hold back on how you really felt about Bruce Wayne and his children as any criticism you had about them was a failure on his part.

The poor man did the best he could, but those people are clearly beyond any form of help outside of being locked in padded cells.

“Come in, please,” you say, steeping aside so she could enter your home. Once she’s in, you close the door and lead her to the living room. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, soda?”

“Anything’s fine, thank you.”

She sits on the couch while you rush to the kitchen and prepare two glasses of ice water, a crystal pitcher full of more water, and a small bowl full of grapes and load it all onto a tray and carry it back to the living room. This is the first time you’ve ever had a guest and you want to make a good impression.

“So, where would you like to start,” you ask as you sit in your favorite chair, your glass of water in hand.

“I’d like to ask about your mother, if that’s alright,” she answers, pulling out a writing pad and pen from her purse. “I managed to find newspapers relating to you around the time you moved to Gotham, but they were very few and none of them had anything regarding your mother or your past.”

You stifle a chuckle at the thought of being one the front page of a few newspapers no doubt rotting in the Gotham Gazette’s archives. You were probably the center of news for all a week before Bruce adopted Tim and stole the spotlight, leading to the tradition of you being pushed further and further back whenever Bruce collected another troubled kid.

“My mom was Maria Gould, a famous writer known for romance novels set during the Age of Sail.”

“That Maria Gould,” she asks, looking up from her notepad in shock. “I didn’t know you were related to her?”

“You know her?”

“I was an avid reader of her books.” She gives a small chuckle. “I actually use to daydream of interviewing her when I first started at the Daily Planet.” He smile then shifts into a sympathetic frown. “I remember reading about her death in the paper. I knew it said she had a son, but I didn’t see the connection until now.”

“She died on my sixth birthday. It’s been sixteen years since that day and I can still remember it so clearly.”

That day haunts you to this day. You got to school so happy and excited for Momma to come pick you up after school, thinking about how much pizza you’d eat and what presents you’d get.

You had no idea that when you told her bye that day, it would be for the last time.

(Your grief is still so profound, even after all this time.)

That day ended in the loss of your Momma and your life went from bad to worse when Alfred picked you up and brought you to Gotham to live with that bastard.

“I can tell you loved you very much,” she responds, her expression sympathetic.

“Yeah,” you say, suppressing a tear. “Yeah, I did.”

“So, did you have any idea who your father was? Did she ever tell you or did you ever ask?”

“Yeah, I did ask when all my friends were celebrating Father’s Day and I realized I didn’t have a Daddy like my friends. She said that she didn’t know who he was. She didn’t say it, but when she said she was “young and dumb,” I later found out that meant she got drunk and had sex with a guy she didn’t know.” A ghost of a smile graces your face. “She said when I came along, I set her on the right path.”

“I say you did,” she responds, returning your smile. “Being a parent often makes people turn their lives around.” She jots something down in her pad before looking back at you. “So, when did you move to Gotham?”

“Immediately after the funeral. The sheriff drove me back home to pack up most of my stuff and when we got to the house, Alfred was waiting for me.”

“Wait, Bruce Wayne didn’t pick you up himself?”

“No, Alfred said he was too busy with work and couldn’t come.”

“His firstborn son loses his son and he couldn’t even make the time to get you,” she angrily mutters to herself as she writes. “And how did he react when he saw you?”

“It was almost like he was staring at a stranger in his home.”

You can still remember how you felt when you met Bruce Wayne for the first time; it was the first time you’d ever felt like someone didn’t like you and it really hurt.

“He barely said a word to me before telling Alfred he was going out.”

“Doing what,” she asks, clearly getting angrier and angrier by the second.

For a brief moment, you entertain the idea on ousting Bruce’s dirty little secret and telling the world that he’s Batman. He’d be drowning in so much attention and legal battles that he wouldn’t be able to bother you ever again.

But then, the rational part of your brain convinces you that by telling everyone Batman’s secret identity would invite a lot of trouble your way. After all, all of Bruce’s kids are vigilantes, so many would automatically assume you were one as well, leading you to being dragged into Bruce’s legal and publicity quagmire.

Also, there’s the very real possibility that all of Bruce’s enemies would come after you seeking revenge and while you were more than capable of dealing with whatever came your way, you’d really rather not deal with it altogether.

“I don’t know,” you say. “He said he had work to do, but this is Bruce Wayne we’re talking about. Chances are he was in some sleazy club with a girl on each side and one on her knees if you know what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” she agrees. “Now, a week after you moved to Wayne Manor, Bruce adopted Tim Drake. Did you two get along?”

You bark a bitter laugh. “He took one look at me and decided I wasn’t worth his attention. If you ask me, there’s always been something wrong with him. He’s always watching people, taking note of everything they do and obsessing over finding out his secrets. If you ask me, he’s not right and his parents knew it. That’s why they were always leaving him behind when they went to dig sites or parties.”

She’s definitely interested in that as she seemingly writes down everything you said, word for word.

She stifle a chuckle at the thought of Tim Drake being asked what the fuck’s wrong with him every time he goes anywhere.

“What about Dick Grayson? Everyone in Gotham says he’s everything a good big brother should be.”

Yes, you remember the celebration he got when the Gotham Gazette named him the World’s Best Big Brother for the tenth year in a row.

A celebration you weren’t invited to.

“He was a brother to me. When I first moved in, he always carved out time for Tim, but couldn’t give me the time of day. After being blown off a few dozen times in favor for of his other siblings, I eventually stopped asking him.”

“What about Jason Todd?”

“He gave me a black eye when we met.” She gasps at that. “Yeah, he’s a brute. He’s always going on about Jane Austen, but underneath that veneer of an intellectual, he’s Crime Alley trash. Honestly, Bruce should’ve just left him in that part of Gotham. With his poor anger management and proclivity for violence, he’d fit right in. Animals belong in the wild.”

“What about your half brother, Damian Wayne?”

“That little shit pulled a sword on me and nearly tried to take my head off.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, an actual sword. I was able to get out of the way, but he gave me a scar on my cheek. It took me a few years, but I was able to find a way to make it invisible, especially when I looked in the mirror. Every time I saw it, it reminded me of how little I mattered in that house.”

“What did Bruce Wayne do? Surely he knew about it?”

“He was in the room when it happened. All he did was carry him out while he was yelling insults about me and my Momma. And Dick said he had a difficult upbringing and I should forgive him.”

“Forgive him for almost killing you,” she exclaims, her eyes wide as saucers and a look of disgust on her face. “You can’t be serious!”

“I wish I was, Ms. Lane, but Dick’s made it clear that Damian’s his favorite and had he managed to kill me, I’m sure Dick would’ve just taken him out for ice cream and told him that he can’t go around killing people.” You let out a bitter laugh. “You know, he had some nerve calling my Momma a ‘whore’ when I know the secret about his mother.”

“You do,” she asks, leaning forward, her pen and pad ready, indicating you have her full and undivided attention. “Everyone’s asked Bruce about the identity of Damian’s mother and the details relating to the birth, but he’s told us nothing. Are you willing to shed some light on this?”

For a brief moment, you actually ask yourself if this is right. With all the things Damian’s done to you, is it really acceptable to tell the dirty little secret regarding his conception? After all, if you were in his shoes, you’d kill to ensure your secret never saw the light of day.

(But he would not hesitate to tell the world your secret if your situations were reversed,) the Megamycete chimes in. (And does he not deserve some comeuppance for his many transgressions against you?)

You have to admit, it has a point. And besides, this’ll give the Wayne Family a massive shitstorm they’ll have to deal with and your mind’s immediately made up.

“I know her name, but I don’t want her coming after me, so I’m afraid that part of the secret stays with me.” Lois nods, so you continue. “His mother raped him.”

She gasps and you know you’ve passed a point of no return now.

Then again, daring to defy the “great” Bruce Wayne was a point of no return, so this is just adding fuel to the fire.

“She drugged his drink and got him to agree to sleep with her, all for the sole purpose of getting pregnant because she believed him to be of a superior quality.” You lower your voice to mutter, “I can tell you she was greatly misled.”

After that, the interview breezed by, asking about how Steph and Cass treated you to the conditions you were kept in. You told her everything, about how Damian would go out of his way to make you miserable to how Bruce couldn’t be bothered to do anything for you and it was Alfred that kept you alive. In fact, it was only the poor butler that seemed to care about you and you were confident that had you died, Bruce would just be pissed about the inconvenience your death caused him, from having to find a place to bury you to making up a story to tell the media.

It was only when you told her the story involving Damian and your Momma’s pen did you realize that not only was she crying, but so were you.

You knew how that memory made you feel, but had forgotten how much it pained you until you told her every detail. Funny how the brain tries so hard to suppress the worst moments of your life.

“Why do you think they treated you like this,” she asks, trying to keep her voice even to disguise the fact she’s obviously upset. “From everything you’ve told me, it sounds like they really didn’t see you as a Wayne.”

“Because I was the consequence of Bruce’s stupidity. He got drunk and did something stupid, leading to me, and he didn’t like that he was forced to live with him and ruin his family’s image. And because I was normal.”

“Normal?”

“Yes, normal. I had a normal life with Momma while all of the have colorful backgrounds. And I’d like to think that I’m average looking and averagely intelligent with nothing special about me, compared to everyone in the Wayne Family, who always thing their the best looking and smartest people in the room. Plus, I wasn’t damaged goods until Bruce Wayne came into my life. I guess the tragic death of my Momma wasn’t enough for him to make him love me.”

Those words cause you to let out a choked sob as more and more memories of your time in Wayne Manor start surfacing, memories you’d prefer to keep buried.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing for one day,” you say, wiping your eyes and standing up.

“Yes, I think I have everything I need,” she says, doing the same thing.

“Is there anything I can get you before you go, Ms. Lane,” you ask as you lead her to the front door. “Maybe a drink or a snack for the road?”

One of Alfred’s many lessons was how to be a good host and he’d flip out if you didn’t offer her something.

“No, thank you, Mr. Gould, you’ve given me more than enough.” She hesitates for a moment before getting close to you, her arms at both your sides. You freeze up, thinking the worst is about to happen when you realize she’s hugging you. “I’m so sorry for your loss and what you had to go through growing up. No one should ever have to experience such neglect.”

Outside of Alfred, it’s been years since anyone’s hugged you. Last time you were hugged by anyone not the butler was when Momma first died; Goodsprings is the type of where everyone knows everyone and you’re pretty sure you had the entire town giving you hugs before and during the funeral.

“Thank you,” you whisper, returning the hug.

“I know it doesn’t undo the damage he’s done, but I promise this story will make everyone see who Bruce Wayne truly is.”

And with that, you two separate and you wave goodbye as she gets in her car and drives off.

(You made the right decision to tell her everything,) the Megamycete says as you close and lock your door. (We must say, we are surprised you chose not to tell her their roles as Gotham’s vigilantes. Surely the benefits of exposing them outweigh the projected consequences. Or at least balance out.)

“Believe me, I was plenty tempted, but having the enemies of Batman knocking down my door would be more trouble than it was worth. Sure, I could kill them all, but it would only be a matter of time until I was put in a situation where too many people would ask too many questions.”

“We see your point. Besides, her story will no doubt cause more than enough trouble for him and his band of misfits.”

A part of you makes you wish you were back in Gotham so you could see the backlash Bruce is about to be hit with.

Granted, it’s a small part, practically microscopic, but it’s still there.

“I understand, but—“ Bruce says before hearing a click, indicating the call has been ended.

“Another bad phone call, Master Bruce,” Alfred says as holds out a cup of tea.

“Yes,” he sighs, putting his phone in his pocket and taking the cup with one hand and rubbing his temples with the other. “The Humanitarian Ball. The event organizers said they didn’t want ‘cruel and heartless monsters’ bringing a bad name on their event.”

Ever since Lois Lane’s article titled The Forsaken Gould of the Wayne Family came out two days ago, he’s experienced set back after set back; in less than forty-eight hours, Wayne Enterprises’ stock has lost half its value, many large companies have dropped out of their business deals, and more than a few people have withdrawn their invitations for high-profile events.

But none of that compares to the massive gap between you and him getting even larger. He knew that he’d wronged you, but being able to read it in black and white just drives the point even further.

He just wishes that it could’ve stayed between you, him, and your siblings. His family may be celebrities in Gotham, but he prefers to handle the family’s drama behind closed doors.

He’s held his family together through thick and thin and he’ll continue to do so.

And he’s had a hard time doing that over the past two days.

He’s read and reread that article ever since it came out, unable to go a single day without looking at it. He had no idea that he made you feel like you were a mistake he felt embarrassed over or that because you weren’t anything like them, you weren’t worthy of his love.

He knows he’s failed you, but he wants to fix all of it! He wants to embrace you and never let go and to put you up on a pedestal for all of Gotham to bask in and know that you’re the most treasured member of the Wayne Family.

But until they find a way to rid that mushroom in your body and bring you back home, they can’t start fixing their mistakes.

The media’s had a field day with the article ever since it came out, hounding them every time they go out in public, asking them how they could sleep at night knowing they kept you in tiny guest room on the other side of the manor or about how Bruce could treat the son born from Talia drugging him with such love while treating the son born from a drunken one-night stand with such disdain.

He was shocked to learn that you knew of them being the Bats, but to learn you knew the truth regarding Damian’s birth…

Just how much did you know? Did he ignore you so much that he didn’t know you were nearby whenever he talked about anything, even sensitive information that he only talked to Alfred about.

Were you practically invisible to him the entire time you lived here?

Of course, Damian’s pissed that people are calling Talia a rapist and asking if he knew. All this made him a powder keg ready to go off, but what made him really go off was when one of his more elitist classmates made the snide remark that Damian was right to treat you like he did because you came from “some low class author” and simply weren’t worthy of being a member of high society, his son broke the boy’s nose and said he wasn’t worthy of saying your name.

He really wished Damian would’ve let him handle it by framing his parents for tax evasion and illegal business dealings (of course, he still did it, that little shit should’ve known better than to think he had the right to even think about you). They already have enough problems on their plate, they don’t need to add assault to it.

Dick really took it hard when he read that you didn’t think of him as a big brother and Lois Lane had called for him to be stripped of his status of Gotham’s Best Big Brother.

If there’s one thing Dick holds dear in this world, it’s his status as the family’s big brother and would bend over backwards for any of his siblings, be it driving them to the other side of Gotham or helping them with a case.

Dick already felt bad when he realized he’s always ignored you in favor of his other siblings, but that article pushed him over the edge, making his oldest son lose his trademark energetic behavior, choosing to spend all his time in your old room. And if Bruce is very quiet and he creeps close to the door, he can hear Dick’s muffled weeping and apologies.

His heart breaks for his oldest. If he could, he’d undo his and his children’s wrongdoings towards you and bare the memory of it if it meant you being here, where you belong, and not hating them.

Jason also took it hard; Jason knows that he has a problem with his temper and has tried everything under the sun to keep it under control, but his upbringing in Crime Alley and his torture and death at Joker’s hands have left marks on him that he’ll be dealing with for the rest of his life (and Bruce would pay any price to undo them). Jason regrets taking his anger for him out on you when he returned, thinking you were another “replacement” like Tim when he sees you and him had so much in common, you’re practically related.

Tim’s sequestered himself in his room, glued to his computer desk; he’d been in your old room almost everyday ever since they learned of their neglect towards you, thinking the almost bare room would provide some glimpse into your mind that he can use to get into your good graces and make you return home. After the article, many of them tried to rationalize that this Megamycete was twisting your mind and make you hate them so much, but that’s when Tim admitted that he found an old journal of yours, going back to when you first moved in and detailing everything they’d done to you, the last entry detailing Damian throwing your mother’s pen into the yard while it was raining.

He hates how he handled that situation; at the time, he thought you were just making a big deal over some silly little pen (fuck, that was how he really saw it back then), but you were just protecting the only thing you had of your mother, uncaring what it would cost you. He’d like to think he’s do the same thing had someone tried to take his mother’s pearls (you really are his son, aren’t you).

When Tim said he had your journal, they all tried to get it from him, Damian going as far as to bring out his sword and threaten to take it by force (Bruce really needs to consider confiscating that sword due to all the trouble it’s caused). Hell, Jason actually begged to be able to read your journal, but his son would not surrender the book and has been hoarding all the information for himself.

The girls have been silent since reading it, which is never a good sign since Steph is always making noise. He tried to comfort Cass when she read that you don’t consider her a person because of the way she looks at people, like she’s trying to find strengths and weaknesses before attacking them (apparently you also know of her upbringing as a weapon), but his second daughter wouldn’t accept his gestures, signing that you had a point and that she’d never break free of her origins as a living weapon.

And Damian… His youngest has been eerily quiet, but it doesn’t take his detective training to realize he’s fuming on the inside (it seems to be a prerequisite in this family to deal with emotions in unhealthy ways). Bruce had asked him if he was angry that you had exposed the secret of his birth and all his youngest said was that it was his penance for his transgressions against you (his heart breaks that his youngest thinks he deserves this as some sort of punishment).

He was already having a hard time containing the fallout of the world finding out his firstborn son is you, not Damian, and that he’s basically not acknowledged you at all in the last decade, but this article has made it next to impossible to find a convincing lie to tell the media that you came back willingly when they ultimately bring you back home.

“This fucking Megamycete,” he growls, setting the teacup on a nearby table not so gently. “It’s ruined everything.”

“How do you figure, Master Bruce,” the man responds, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s making him lash out, do these things. I know we wronged Y/N and he has every right to hate us, but he shouldn’t be capable of this, should he? There’s no way he’d ever say these things willingly.”

“Do you think you know Master Y/N to make such an assessment?”

That makes him pause.

He has no illusion that he never took the time to sit down with you to have an actual conversation, but his blood still courses through your veins; he’d never do something like this, nor would Damian or any of his other children.

Did your hate for them… for him run that strong? That you despise them so much that you’d expose and put them all on display for the world to see?

Would you go as far as exposing their secret identities?

“What do you think, Alfred,” he says after a moment of silence. “You obviously know him better than all of us. Would he ever do something like this?”

“I think that he wishes to exact revenge for the many years of neglect you all inflicted upon him and that this is his opening volley,” the man says with no hesitation or restraint.

That makes him flinch.

“So, you’re saying he hates us,” he asks, afraid of the answer the butler will give him.

He knows you have every right to hate him, god knows he’s made his children hate him on several occasions, but if you hate him… hate them enough to do something like this…

He knows he’s not strong enough to handle it.

“I think he’s dreamed of making all of you pay for what you’ve done to him for years. And with this Megamycete within him, I say he’s more than a match for you and the children.”

“You’d think he’d attack us?”

“When I held Master Y/N in my arms, I could see the fury beneath his tears. Master Damian use to take delight in giving Master Y/N a demonstration in his combat prowess. There’s no doubt in my mind that Master y/N wishes to return the favor.”

He won’t allow that. He’s hurt his children in multiple ways and his children have hurt one another in multiple ways over the years and every time it happened it created a rift that was never truly repaired, merely covered over. There’s been enough pain and misery in this family to last several lifetimes.

He’s fought tooth and nail to keep his children together and he’s not about to let one slip away.

He understands you want nothing to do with him or your siblings, but like it or not, you’re his son and his children belong in Gotham, under his roof.

“Have the tests on the root samples finished yet?”

“Yes, they were finished just a little while ago. I’m afraid to say that none of the toxins you have in stock had any noticeable effect on them.”

He curses at the news. He had hoped the toxins he keeps so deal with Poison Ivy would be as effective on the Megamycete, but that is unfortunately not the case.

“What about the in-depth analysis on the blood sample?”

“From what the analyzer could tell, the Megamycete seems to behave like a benign cancer, slowly eradicating Master Y/N’s native cells in order to replace them with unstable mold versions, which are able to be manipulated and altered into whatever he desires.”

That certainly makes coming up with a strategy on how to counter your abilities; sure, he has a few ideas based on a few villains and heroes that have similar abilities to you, but until he sees what you’re capable of firsthand, he won’t have anything concrete.

The thought then leads to him having an idea, one he’s eager to act on.

“I’m going out, Alfred.”

“And where are we off to, Master Bruce?”

“I’m going to see my son.”

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[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 11 -

M.List : Previous Part : 6.7k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

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Small beeping machines filled the silence between you and Katsuki as you waited for the doctor to walk in. Your condition wasn't bad so you only had a small room that was used for typical check-ups. The only reason you got the room was to avoid the public due to the status you and Katsuki shared.

The only reason you were in the ER was because even over the course of two months and a handful of weeks, your injury from the break-in was still thin. All healed but the skin was still pink and raised. A wound that goes straight through never fully heals. Katsuki still had issues with his from first year.

You often woke up to him grasping his chest and reaching for pain meds in the middle of the night. Mumbling that he was fine and that you could go back to sleep.

With how closed off he was about his pain, it reminded you of high school, how he avoided any conversation that dared to mention his pain. If you even suggested a support item that put less strain on his arm, he would snap and tell you to do what he says.

Always claiming he didn't need your help.

In the second year, he broke his leg. More so, it shattered it. It was a stupid mistake on his part during a practical exam. He was helping a 'citizen' escape a collapsing building and tripped on the way out. Everything was fine before he tripped but his foot was caught under cement when a support beam fell on his leg.

He pushed the citizen out of the way before they got hurt, everyone saw him get crushed by the building instead. You were watching his class do the practice so you could get a closer look at what might help them.

The practical didn't stop for anyone else, his classmates helped him from the ruble, mainly Kirishima and Uraraka. Lifting the support beam off him and analyzing his condition before taking him out of the exam.

You met them in the hallway, seeing the way Katsuki bit his lip in pain, face entirely scrunched.

He passed out from pain when he was set down in Recovery Girl's room. She rushed you out after that, telling you that he'd be fine when he woke up.

When he did wake up, you were by his side to help him out of the bed. His entire leg was in a cast, that he'd luckily only have to wear a week. At first, he pushed you away and refused any help. But after he got settled in his dorm room, he gave in the slightest bit.

"This is fucking stupid."

"I know," you sighed, sitting next to him on his bed.

"I hate this."

"I know," you adjusted the pillow that was placed under his injured foot. Him lifting it to make it easy.

He sighed heavily, letting his head fall into his pillow.

"Are you in pain right now?" you asked softly, his face was scrunched as if he was in pain.

"No."

You placed your hand on his gently. He had his hands folded together on his stomach. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

You hummed, not knowing what path to take. He was always strange after he was in pain, always running from how he actually felt.

His hands opened for yours, grasping your fingers in his as he stared down at them. "Did you get that new book you were talking about?"

"Hm?" you shuffled to face your body towards him, careful of his legs as you sat on your own.

"The shitty romance one."

"Everything I read is shitty romance to you," you teased, "But yes, I grabbed it before school today."

"What is it now? The fifth fucking book?"

A gentle laugh left you, "Almost, it's the fourth one."

"God damn, you've been reading it since we were 10."

"You've been reading your comics since you could read and I don't tease you for it," you squeezed his hand playfully.

"Mines about blowing shit up, yours are about blowing people."

"Bakugo!" you flushed.

"What? M'Not wrong," he snickered.

"The third book is the only one that went there," you defend, "I only read that one last year. Shouldn't have told you about it."

"Didn't need to, literally caught you red-faced as you read it," he teased.

"Shut up!" you slapped at his shoulder with your free hand.

"It's not like that's the only book like that you read," he laughed, "You have thousands of that filth."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Shut up!"

Katsuki settled his laughter. Thankfully letting the topic go.

He let go of your hands for a moment to wipe them on the bed next to him. He's always been paranoid of his sweat, you assumed a girl in middle school teased him for it and he's been embarrassed since. But you knew he'd never admit it, so you didn't bother to comfort him about it.

"Why do you read that stuff anyway?"

"What? Porn?" you flushed, not really wanting to talk to him about this. You've been dating for a month at this point. Your nerves were on edge at the thought of that territory. No amount of books could prepare you for taking that step with him. You weren't oblivious to how other relationships progressed, you knew how guys thought.

"No," he blushed, "Like the romance shit."

"Oh," you sighed, either in relief or disappointment that the untouched territory remained untouched. "I guess because it's thrilling?"

"How is that thrilling?"

"Like-" you fumbled your words for an example, "Our first kiss."

"What about it?"

"It was thrilling," you paused, embarrassed, "At least for me."

He hummed in agreement, letting you continue.

"Books do the same, in a way. It brings all the excitement and thrill you feel in real life if it's good enough. I get really immersed in it though, I read as if I'm actually there," you rambled.

"You crave that shit or something?"

"Romance?"

"Yeah."

"Of course I do, don't you?"

He changed the topic with a flush of red on his face, too proud to admit his emotions to anyone as he let his hands drop from yours.

The doctor entering your room now, in the present, ripped your thoughts off the past.

She greeted herself gently, talking to both you and Katsuki about your condition, "Thankfully it's only a surface burn, just needs a week or so to heal. Change the gauze after a shower and avoid getting water directly on it for the first couple of days."

Katsuki's shoulders sagged in relief as he ran his hands over his face.

You knew it wasn't bad, but he was worried. It obviously hurt like a bitch, but you weren't too concerned about it. He had it worse currently. You knew just from the face he was making now. He rushed you to the hospital after he realized what he did. Seeing you collapse onto the coffee table, gasping as you held your side in pain.

"If you could step out for a moment, I can finish checking her over and get you guys out of here," the doctor spoke calmly towards Katsuki, "Sir?"

He snapped his attention towards her, clearly having zoned out after she said you were okay, "What?"

"Would you mind waiting outside? We'll meet you on her way out after I ensure everything is set in place."

"The hell?" he pushed himself off the wall.

"I don't mind him being in here," you informed the doctor.

"It'd be best if he stepped out," she gave you a concerned look.

You sighed, she was kind and you didn't want Katsuki to get riled up, "Kats?"

He glared at you for a moment before giving in, "Fine." He walked out of the room with no extra fuss, grabbing your jacket for you on the way out. Making sure to stand so you could see him through the small window provided.

The doctor cleared her throat, "I have some protocol questions for you." You nodded your head for her to continue. She flipped a page on her clipboard, "Do you feel safe at home?"

"Yes," you took a breath in, prepared for the rush of questions.

She looked up from her clipboard, you already answered these questions with Katsuki near you. "This is a safe place, I understand his status might be frightening but I assure you-"

"Stop, he doesn't abuse me."

"Ma'am-"

"I'm safe at home, I promise. I know hero abuse cases are commonly untold but this isn't one," you knew that it was unfortunately common for heroes to get away with abuse. Abusing people who were scared of their status and denying any claims of it. They got away with it almost every time too.

"I apologize," she eyed you, still unsure of if you were telling the truth or not, "I'm just going on what's provided, the wound is shaped as a hand, on both sides."

You winced at the realization, hoping it wouldn't scar. Katsuki saw it already and you knew it didn't help his guilt. "Am I good to leave?" you huffed, annoyed that the healthcare thought your boyfriend abused you, and that your boyfriend thought he did too.

"Yes, but just know," she frowned, "Regardless if you need it or not, there are many resources available for help if needed."

While you were happy she cared and protected her clients, you felt horrible about leaving Katsuki alone to his thoughts. He likely knew the questions the doctor was asking, so you wanted to be by his side to assure him that wasn't what you thought of him in the slightest.

You followed all her steps to leave, having Katsuki tag along behind you until you got to the car. He opened the door for you, hesitating to help you sit down. Rather than offer a hand, he offered his forearm.

When he shut your door, going around to the driver's side, you let yourself relax. You hated hospitals with a passion. They always put you in the worst mood. The air was always stale, and tragedies were always happening in it. It reminded you that any day now, it'd be you facing those tragedies. Katsuki often made you sit in waiting rooms as he got healed from a nasty injury, and you hated it more each time.

But he was here now, that's all that matters. So you scolded your face as you smiled at him. Happy to have him sitting in the driver's seat next to you.

"I'm so glad to be out of there," you hummed. They gave you some pain meds to get through today, so you weren't in any pain. The situation didn't even bug you, though you knew others would disagree.

Katsuki shared no words as he started the car. He's hardly spoken since the two of you left the apartment. Only frantic questions to determine if you were okay or not.

"You okay?" you asked softly.

"Hm?" he hummed, entirely unfocused as he pulled the car out of the parking garage.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

"Katsuki."

"What?"

"It's obvious you're not."

"M'tired," he shrugged.

You huffed in reply. Sure it was late, especially for him, but you knew that wasn't it. You knew somewhat what he was thinking already. You also knew how he would process it. He'd hold this guilt to himself until It was too much to carry himself, and he'd still carry it. His process was predictable but also unpredictable in the same ways. Sometimes he'd want you near, just your presence. Other times he wouldn't want you anywhere near him.

All you could do was show him he had someone if he wanted it. You'd avoid pushing him until you knew he needed it.

So in an attempt to do just that, you let the hand closest to his fall to reach his forearm and squeeze, a small squeeze that was just meant to show love.

He jolted away, moving away as if your hand was the touch of death.

"Sorry," you mumbled in shock, your hand reeled back and held to your chest in surprise. He's reacted negatively to your touch before, but nothing near this. It scared you about how he'd process this.

"Just-" he took a breath, flickering his eyes onto you for a moment before looking back at the road, "Don't."

"Okay."

---

Changing the gauze that night was awkward.

You called him into the bathroom once you were done with your shower and dressed. He padded into the room slowly, his head down as he got the gauze ready.

"You didn't take the wrapping off in the shower?" he asked once you lifted your shirt for him to see your sides.

"Um, no?" you looked down, "Just rip it off for me."

"I don't wanna hurt you," he shook his head.

With a huff, you carefully took your bandage off yourself. Peeling it off your skin before throwing it away. You hopped to sit on the counter, letting him get a clear view of your side.

The wince at your bare skin was obvious. His face furrowed, "You can't change it yourself?"

"Just change it, please? I can't get a good look at it."

"You can just use the mirror-"

"Bakugo," you scolded, "Just bandage it please?"

He huffed, looking from your side to the bandage, then to his hands. "Can I call Mei to do it?"

"You can't avoid touching me forever," you pointed out. 

"I'm not avoiding shit," he glared at you.

"Then change it yourself," you challenged.

He bit his tongue, obviously looking for another excuse to use, "Isn't this too personal?"

"Huh? Literally how?" you asked confused. Out of all the excuses he uses that one?

"I mean, I'm under your shirt-"

"These are your handprints-" you spoke without thinking, stopping when you saw his face drop further, "You've seen me get off, I don't think bandaging a burn on my side is too personal."

His face flushed, "Don't."

You took his warning and didn't bring up anything more 'scandalous' for his sake, "Can you just patch me up so we can go to sleep?"

He nodded before washing his hands off quickly, it reminded you of how he reacted to you. It was reassuring in its own way. It felt nice to know that you gave him butterflies even though he'd never admit it. He was so soft for you, it was sweet.

The wound didn't hurt too much as he put the gauze over both sides, bandaging it after. The drugs were doing their job, tomorrow you'd have to remember to take Advil or something to help.

Katsuki stared while he bandaged your side, traumatizing himself from how he hurt you.

Not wanting him to be in his head, you spoke, "Not too bad."

He offered his arm to help you off the counter, supporting your weight as you hopped down.

Even though you didn't need it, you let him help in the ways he wanted. Letting him pull back the sheets for you, and letting him tuck you in before going to his side. 

If you mentioned how much he was babying you, you knew he'd stop. You also knew that he would pout and fully push himself away from you. So you'd take what you would get.

He was being sweet after all, no harm in letting him continue like this.

"Thank you," you mumbled after he placed his phone down, alarm set for the next day. 

He grumbled out a noise of confusion before he shuffled to face you better. Wanting eye contact despite the dark room. 

"For fixing me up," you spoke softly.

Katsuki just kind of looked at you for a moment. Expressionless before a frown slowly turned his lips, "I'm the one that did it."

"It was a joint effort," you smiled, trying to lighten the moment.

"It's my handprints."

"That may be true but-"

"No buts."

"I was the only one pushing you to get so worked up," you defended him.

He rolled his eyes, moving to lay back down, "Doesn't matter, I know better."

Not wanting him to hold this to himself you tried to argue, "Kats-"

"Go to sleep," his voice was shot dry, only an inch of his actual emotion showing.

"Okay," you whispered. You lightly placed your hand on his back, trying to comfort him. His body trembled lightly.

He often shook when upset.

So you ran your hand soothingly up and down his back.

Despite his claims of wanting to be left alone, to not have any help, he fell asleep quickly with your hand rubbing his back. You followed suit. Letting your thoughts run wild.

You didn't get a single negative from the interaction, you were more so wrapped in the before. Before he burned your sides, which you knew he didn't mean to.

But before, he was kissing you with fever. Like a man starved. One simple challenge had him riled up. Grabbing onto you roughly to pull you closer to him. Letting you lick into his mouth before taking over the kiss more roughly. Moving his hands down so he could guide your hips.

If the moment didn't end so roughly, you liked to imagine the route it would take. The way he would groan into your lips. His arms flexed as you ran your hands over them, trying to grasp how real it could have been.

You'd let him have anything he was willing to take. You wanted him to want you, and in those small fleeting moments, he showed it. He showed just how much he wanted to ruin the both of you.

Sleep came easy, but with the arousal of your dream, you woke up at the small movement of him next to you.

It's only been an hour or two since you've fallen asleep, but you made yourself cozy. Ignoring the pain in your side to lay half on top of him. The movement you woke up to was him hugging you closer, his arms wrapped around you with the comfort of sleep on his mind.

You squeezed him tighter in response, selfishly soaking up the closeness while you could get it. Nudging your head into his neck to get closer to him.

"What are y'doing?" he mumbled, groggy with sleep.

With him awake you regretted your actions, he was a light sleeper when he was stressed. "Nothin," you murmured into his neck, leaving a light kiss.

"Doesn't feel like nothing," he hit his chin to your head, making you rise up, his hands falling off your body.

"I love you," you whispered, looking down at him slightly with how you hovered over his side.

He scrunched his nose, "What are y'doin?" he asked again.

You pecked at his face, leaving a light kiss on his nose before peppering kisses on his cheeks. The dream had you more loving than you'd like to admit. He was moving through the steps slowly but surely.

"Knock it," he grumbled. His hands stretched away from you in precaution. 

"You love it," you backed away for a moment to say, when you returned his face was warm, clearly flustered.

You moved your kiss closer to his lips until you hit them, kissing him softly for a moment before he gave in more. Letting you kiss him a couple of times before he locked your lips with his, biting your lip gently to keep you close. Your lips slowly moved together when you moved to get a better position. Your hips straddled his, just like it was in your dream, and just how you were before. Hands lightly cupping his cheeks as you kissed with loving intentions.

When you let your hands drift down to his chest, holding yourself up, you felt his heartbeat. It was racing against your touch, it ran a thrill through you, a smile gracing your lips as you kissed him a little harder.

His hands sparked up, grabbing your attention for a moment before you went to return to kissing. He has his hands placed far enough away that it couldn't hurt both of you. But his face was still scared. His lips kiss-swollen but his eyes were terrified.

"It's okay," you murmured, kissing him lightly, "I'm okay."

"My quirk-" he spoke between your lips.

"Can't hurt me," you stopped for a moment, "Just keep them over there, it's fine.

"The bed," he tried to find a way out.

With worry that he wasn't enjoying anything, you sat back, "We can buy new stuff," you tried to soothe, your hands running up and down his chest. He was breathing heavily. "If this is more worrying than anything, we can stop, Kats."

"Not scared?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Promise not to touch my hands?"

"I'd say pinky but that'd break it," you joked lightly.

He rolled his eyes, "Fine."

"Fine?"

"We can kiss, or whatever," his hands sparked, his eyes averted towards the ceiling.

"I know what you meant, but fine? Sounds like you're not into it, Kats-"

His hips rutted into you harshly, his feet bracing the movement, you lost your balance and were back to hovering over him. "Shuddup," he grumbled before lifting his head slightly, meeting you halfway. 

The thrill that you read for, lit up all your nerves. 

He was fully kissing you despite his quirk. He was fully kissing you. You think if he was more awake, and sat on the thought of hurting you again for longer, then he'd refuse. But he wasn't.

His movement early proved how into this he was. The length of him hard against his boxers. You were thankful that he was a hot sleeper, the thin clothing letting you feel all of him. You've seen him before, felt him underneath you before, but this felt better somehow. It was probably the reassurance that his quirk was fully there. Going off every couple of moments or after a particularly rough kiss. 

Each spark heightened the thrill of it all. 

His lips were pressed against yours, his tongue slipping between to catch you by surprise.

Your hands traced over his chest but settled on his biceps, feeling them twitch roughly before each bout of his quirk.

"I fuckin' love you," he muttered against you. Voice rough with the kiss.

You couldn't help the smile that crossed over your features as you moved your hips over his. Starting the cherished moment that you lost hours ago.

"I love you too, Kats," you whispered into his mouth. 

He groaned at the action, "Wanna touch you."

A spark shot up your spine when you heard his quirk go off again. You needed a breath and with the way his chest was heaving, you could tell he needed one as well. So you took greedy breaths in as you trailed kisses down his jaw and to his neck. Leaving pink marks behind that you knew would bruise. 

The state he was in right now was disorienting, but encouraging. He looked wrecked. His head tilted back so you could kiss more of his throat. His arms strained and fist clenched as he refused to risk touching you. It made you want more. So as selfishly as this started, you continued down that path the same way you continued down his chest. Leaving marks on his pecs before you shifted your body to kiss further down.

"What are y'doing?" he mumbled, tilting his head down to look at you, wanting you closer.

Talking about what you were planning was more embarrassing than doing it. "Can I suck you off?" you asked quickly.

He rolled his head back, "Jesus Christ."

You swallowed nervously, "Can I?" if he rejected you now, it'd be humiliating, but you'd listen.

He tilted his head back down again, looking into your eyes. "Skipping a couple bases, aren't you?"

You sat up straight again, getting more composed than before as you sat on his thighs. "Well yeah- but if you want me to jack you off first-"

A loud spark of his quirk shut you up. "Can't just say that," he hissed.

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"You don't have to do anything."

"But what do you want?" you pushed.

You watched as his atom's apple bobbed as he swallowed, "Anything you're willing."

"But you commented on me skipping bases-"

"We can do those later," he cut you off, flustered.

You hummed, leaning back into his space and kissing his lips. Steadily going back into making out with him again. Moving your hands off his arms, squeezing at his muscles as you made your way down. Still working your lips against him as you slipped your hand underneath his boxers.

His entire body was tense as you moved down, but he jolted lightly when you wrapped your hand around him. The touch was probably still foreign to him. Knowing that he's only gotten off once with his own hand. You knew what he looked like from head to toe, but now you knew what he felt like. A steady vein on the underside, connecting to his tip. Veins lightly graced the rest of him. Not only did his dick surprisingly look good, but it made you want more.

When he bit your lip, you remember to focus on the kiss again. Your tongue tangled with his as you moved your hand over him before you moved it away, taking him out of his boxers for more movement.

Returning with less nerves than before. Grasping him lightly before you ran your hand fully over his dick.

After a few motions of your hand, it was clear he was losing it. The motion became familiar quickly so you were able to focus on his reactions. His hips were gently rocking into your hand. Letting you pump his length as he kissed you messily.

He was entirely unfocused, groaning into the kiss in a desperate attempt to keep you close. To give you anything he would.

"Wanna touch you," he whined into the kiss, hips rutting into your hand quicker.

"I know," you mumbled back.

His abs were tensing and untensing constantly, his hands doing the same.

You were surprised he was lasting this long. Probably more stuck in his head rather than the moment. Hardly even noticing when you stopped kissing him, he started breathing heavier.

Steadying your nerves was difficult as you moved further down his body, placing a kiss on each of his abs gently.

He was out of it, his hips rutting desperately to reach the high he craved.

Throwing yourself into your actions was commonly something you did, so it was only fair you did it now. Hesitantly placing a kiss on his tip when you were able, continuing to pump your hand along his length. It was just the extra push he needed, a broken moan left his lips and his hips slowed as he came in your hand. Quirk going off loudly.

"Fuckin' hell," his voice was shot.

It was unintentional, but he came over your lips, covering parts of your face in his cum. You couldn't blame him, it was as unannounced as you kissing his dick. So you continued to slowly pump your hand. 

"Enough," he basically whined.

Seeing him this wrecked was horrible, it made you want him more. But with a look at the alarm clock on his side, you knew he needed sleep. So you pulled away, moving to sit up straight. Wiping his cum off your lips with the back of your hand.

"Where y'going?" he grumbled, voice rough and eyes half-lidded when he managed to open them.

"Bathroom," you mumbled, you would kiss him, but you didn't want to disgust him.

When the small amount of light from the windows hit your face, his eyes widened, quirk popping off again.

"What?"

"Your face," he choked out, "Sorry."

You laughed lightly, "It's fine."

"Did it get in your mouth-"

"No."

"So you didn't taste-"

"No," you laughed at his questions, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "didn't want spoilers."

His quirk popped off as he moved his head to connect your lips. Wincing away after a moment.

"What?" you asked concerned.

"Don't fucking taste that," his face was sour.

You laughed at his face, moving off him to grab a towel from the bathroom. Cleaning your face before tossing him a wet rag. Him catching it easily from where he was sitting on the bed. "Sorry," he mumbled out.

"Hm?" you hummed, not entirely hearing him.

"Can't get you off and shit," he grumbled.

You laughed lightly, "We'll work around to it eventually I hope, if not, I'm happy just like this with you."

His frown deepened, quickly putting himself back in his boxers before you sat by his side again.

But you paused at the side of the bed. Where his hands were lying was burnt to pieces, a hole being singed into the mattress.

---

Unfortunately, you had work the next day. Though you could use the day off, you didn't want to get behind on work. Or spend another day alone in the apartment. Katsuki left without a goodbye. Only a short text saying he was at work. That was sent two full hours before he normally went in.

You shuffled into your office as usual, looking over the text again. Trying to wrap your head around his behavior since the hospital. It made complete sense for him to be wavery of his quirk, but you've never seen his quirk go off for small touches and he was avoiding those after you returned to bed. Having romance off the table for a while was fine, but everything else? That would be harder to live with. You shared small touches ever since you can remember, so going without that would be beyond weird.

The last two months were like that, and you didn't want to go back to that in the slightest. Sure your career progressed a lot, but you liked having Katsuki around. Even though he hardly gave them, his hugs were the highlight of your week. He flushed anytime you said that, and you didn't want him to take that away.

"What the fuck?"

Mei's pissed-off tone dragged your attention off your phone.

"Huh?"

"You fucking broke up with Bakugo?" she glared at you.

"What are you talking about?" you continued to your desk, throwing your stuff on it without a care.

"Why are you limping?" she did a quick scan over you.

"Sprained ankle," you shrugged off, she already seemed pissed enough, telling her Katsuki blew a hole in your side wouldn't help.

"Deserved, probably broke his heart."

"Since when did you care about his heart?" you glared at her, annoyed at the way she was taking your 'break up.' She was supposed to be your best friend, not his.

"Since you wrongfully broke it."

"He's fine-"

"Deku said he has been moping around all day."

You stopped for a moment, "He has?" you'd need to call him during your lunch break if so.

Mei threw her hands up, "Yes! Obviously! His girlfriend of three years dumped him because she can't get off!"

"Mei, you were telling me just a couple of days ago that I should dump him for that."

"I didn't mean it! There's plenty of other ways to get your rocks off."

"I don't want to hear about it," you cringed.

"You could probably make one-"

"Mei!"

The rest of the day followed on a similar footing. Not so much as ways to get off, but questions on why you and Katsuki broke up. People stopped by constantly asking about it, trying to get their taste of the office gossip.

They took your winces of pain as sadness, somehow, saying apologies and asking their questions after.

You couldn't catch a break, when you called Katsuki he let the call go straight to voicemail. Taking away your small bit of peace.

It made you leave work early, tired of the questions and wanting to meet Katsuki sooner rather than later. You also forgot to take pain meds to deal with your side, so you felt horrible. Regretting slightly how late you stayed up.

In a similar manner of how you entered work, you threw your keys on the table and stepped into the living room. Seeing Katsuki's stalk blonde hair.

"Kats," you placed your hands on his shoulders in greeting. Surprising him from behind the couch.

He jumped out of his skin at the feeling, "When'd you get home?" he turned to you frantically.

"Just a second ago? Did you not hear me?" he could normally sense someone's presence a mile away.

"No," he frowned, turning back away from you, shrugging your hands off his shoulders.

You frowned, moving around the couch to sit next to him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he dismissed, looking down at his phone. Headlines with his name filled his screen, all negative.

"Z' said you've been moping."

"Nerd doesn't know shit."

"Katsuki, it's obvious."

"No, it ain't."

"Really?"

"I'm fine, knock it."

---

Though you hoped that he was just grouchy and sleep-deprived that day, he continued to be off. Obviously not fine, even a week after everything.

He was constantly avoiding your touches, no matter how small he jumped away from them. The light touches you used to place on his arms, even before the watch, were no longer okay.

Fully distant and he made no move to talk about it no matter what.

You tried to make small nudges towards him but he wasn't having it.

It was like you truly were just friends at this point. Even with you stood behind him as he cooked for the two of you, in your home together.

"Are you not going to talk to me?" you asked after the silence got too heavy for you to bear.

"What is there to talk about?"

You rolled your eyes, "You act like I shocked you when I was just grabbing the plate next to you."

"What about it?"

"Bakugo."

He turned to face you, abandoning the vegetables he was chopping. With the opening you stepped closer to him, cornering him into the counter.

"What are you doing?"

Slowly, you reached for his hands that were clenched at his sides.

"Stop," he moved his hands further behind him.

"Kats," you spoke softly, voice broken. Seeing the one you loved since elementary school back away from you hurt. For them to act like your touch was poison? It was a different type of pain that was heart-wrenching.

He was taking every step backward. Even in high school, he let you hug him, but now it was nothing. You didn't want that. Not in the slightest.

"Can you back up?"

You shook your head, looking down to gather yourself a touch more.

"You can't do this Kats."

"Do what?"

Tears brimmed your eyes when you looked up, "You said you were going to try."

"Yeah? Then I fuckin' burned you," his voice was rough, eyes were just as watery as your own.

"I'm fine-"

"You weren't."

"What about after that? You let me touch you then."

"It was a mistake."

You stepped back, thrown for a loop at what he said. "A mistake?

He swallowed nervously, "No- I meant me risking it. That was the mistake. Nothin' else."

"But you didn't even hurt me?"

"You saw the hole I left in the mattress. If I moved my hand for even a second, that would have been you."

You huffed, "Running away from it won't help."

"Don't care, not risking hurting you."

"I care Katsuki," you reached for him again, grabbing his hands even with his reluctance, "You never hurt me before with simple touches."

"I don-"

"Even in middle school, you let me hug you. Before all the training," you tried, "You know your limits."

"I thought I did," he spoke as if he was a failure.

"Because you do, I just pushed them. Look, no watch and no flirty touching?" you asked, begging internally.

He furrowed his brows, looking down at your hands, debating. He was giving in and it lightened the weight you felt on your shoulders, "Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, I just can't deal with none of you. I need your hugs," you laughed lightly, trying to brighten the mood with a tease at him.

"Fine," he sighed.

You hugged him tightly at the opening, thrilled that he agreed. Even if you were pushed off him moments after, his hands being held away from you to keep you safe.

---

Being back at square one was strange. The two of you figuratively danced around each other. Fleeting touches as if you were just friends. The romance was ripped from the relationship regardless of the agreement. You said no flirty touching, but every touch felt flirty.

It had you staring at him in longing.

"What?" he snapped after you stared at him for a solid minute. He was just trying to wash the dishes.

"Can we kiss?" you asked without a thought.

The plate he delicately held blew up into pieces.

"Fuck," he glared at you as he threw away the pieces of glass, "No."

"Come on," you pushed lightly, "You only sparked up when we kissed last because things went further."

He rolled his eyes, "Ain't risking it."

"We don't have to risk anything, you can hold your hands behind your back or something," you suggest, "Can't hurt the air."

"No."

"Can we try once?" you pleaded.

"You agreed no flirty touching."

"It's less flirty and more loving," you tried.

"Bullshit."

"Please, Kats?"

He glared at you for a moment, biting his lip in thought, "Will it make you shut up?"

"Yes."

"C'mere."

You pushed yourself closer to him, lifting yourself off your chair so you could lean far enough across the counter to meet him. You felt stupid when he only gave you a peck.

"Really?" you huffed.

"You said a kiss," he shrugged, washing the dishes with a smirk. Obviously happy that he annoyed you.

Even though he was happy he annoyed you, he seemed more happy about the kiss than you. Any interaction after that ended with a kiss.

Adding it onto his morning goodbyes, even with you sleepily accepting his small touch of love. Leaving a small kiss on your cheek was also another go-to of his.

He merged it into his daily routine and you couldn't be happier that you pushed him to do it. You often felt like you were pushing him too far, breaking through his consent. It made you feel horrible. The only thing that kept you from caving in on yourself was that he voiced many times that he loved touching you in any way possible, his only fear was his quirk.

That was the only reason you kept pushing, he'd tell you to fuck off if he wanted you to.

So you kissed him for longer each time.

When you got too into it, he'd gently pull away, "Can't."

"I know," you replied softly, your pain must have been obvious.

"I would trust me-"

"I know," you smiled at him. You didn't want him to feel bad about something he couldn't control.

He huffed, clicking his tongue in annoyance at himself, "Wish I could use this fuckin' watch. Then I could fuckin' do something."

You eyed his watch, "What exactly did the doctor say?"

"Hah?"

"About your watch?"

"Said I shouldn't have my quirk fully off."

"So you can have your quirk partially off safely?"

"Fuck do I know, why does it matter?"

"Well if your quirk is mainly off, you couldn't hurt me."

He eyed you for a moment, "So I can use it again?"

You looked at his watch-clad wrist in debate, "Once the doctor clears it, yes."

"Fuckin' finally," he smiled, kissing you roughly in excitement, "You have no idea the things Imma do to you," he whispered into your lips.

---

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic (I won't add you otherwise, sorry) comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

@supersecretsamm @maeveorsomethinggg @zoast32 @54fangirl @ellielover69 @aomi04 @mithicakurogo @ez4raa @suki0 @wildernessflora @dumbbitchenergy17 @schniti-is-in-the-house @xbieditz @poemzcheng @jaxyy219 @truwaifu @111june111 @eyesforbkg @mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @keiva1000 @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @albakugo @fairiesgloss @limitedstar @i-bitch-you-bitch @drageonix24 @sinyaaa @oddball08 @imsuperawkward @lomlchi @anime-manga-fanatic @irlpadfoot @chocoyanchan @gollumsmygel @yuptha-tsme @icedemon1314 @alstrums @andysdrafts @your-mum3000

[leirastar]

New World | Chapter 12

Pairing: Ot8 Ateez x reader AU: fantasy AU | stranger -> mates Summary: In Hala, a house of eight kingdoms, each boasting its own wonders, you never imagined that amidst the pain, you would also fall—this time, in love. Word Count: 2.6 k | 11 minutes Warning: none

It had been a few days since you arrived at the castle, and in that time, you had rejected every dinner invitation Seonghwa had sent. You didn’t know why, but each time the invitation arrived, a strange, inexplicable fear would settle in your chest. The thought of sitting in that grand room with all of them—the rulers, the powerful, the untouchable—was enough to make your stomach twist.

A flicker of guilt passed through you. Seonghwa had been nothing but kind, offering polite invitations with a softness that almost made you feel welcome. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk into that room and face them all. What if you said something wrong? What if your nerves betrayed you and you said so mething foolish in front of the 8th?

You told yourself it was simply the unfamiliarity, the pressure of being watched under their piercing gazes. But there was something more, something unspoken that made your skin crawl. Maybe it was Yunho, his cold presence always lingering in the background like a storm waiting to break. Or perhaps it was the subtle, dangerous expectation in the air—the weight of being a guest in a place where every word could have consequences.

Avoiding Yunho had become second nature, though it required more effort than you cared to admit. You weren’t sure if he had noticed your deliberate distance—or if he even cared—but the tension between you lingered, thick and unspoken.

And this damn castle didn’t help. Even after days of roaming its endless corridors, it still felt like a maze, one designed to keep outsiders like you feeling lost. It was a constant reminder of how small and insignificant you were in this world—how easy it would be to disappear among the shadows, unnoticed, forgotten.

God, I hate this maze.

It made you feel stuck, as though you were a mere spectator in a game you didn’t understand.

That was the only reason you had ended up here—standing uncertainly in the middle of a long hallway, straining to hear the faintest sound of movement.

In your defense, you had only been trying to find the library. But you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to ask for directions. The fewer conversations, the better. So, you had wandered instead, following the most well-lit paths, hoping you’d stumble across something familiar.

Your footsteps were light against the marble floor as you hesitated, unsure which way to turn. The hallway stretched endlessly in both directions, its towering walls lined with ornate sconces that flickered against the dark stone. You were just about to take another step forward when something—someone—caught your eye.

A tall figure in the distance, moving with purpose.

Your breath hitched. Even from afar, you recognized the cold grace of his stride, the unyielding presence that made the air feel thinner. Yunho.

Panic surged through you. Had he seen you?

You didn’t wait to find out. Spinning on your heel, you darted toward the nearest door, heart hammering as you pushed it open and slipped inside.

For a moment, all you could hear was the rush of your own breathing. You pressed your back against the door, exhaling softly as you listened for approaching footsteps.

Silence.

Only then did you dare to look around.

The room you’d stumbled into was quiet, heavy with the scent of aged parchment and something faintly woody—cedar, maybe, or sandalwood. It wrapped around you like a cloak, calming your nerves just enough to pull you back to yourself.

Dim light filtered through a tall, arched window, casting long shadows over the space. This was no ordinary study—it was vast, stretching farther than you expected, its walls lined floor to ceiling with dark mahogany shelves, each one overflowing with books. Thick tomes and weathered manuscripts leaned against one another, their spines faded from time and handling. Some titles were written in old, unfamiliar scripts, while others were embossed in gold leaf, glinting faintly in the low light.

A large desk sat near the window, carved with intricate patterns and cluttered with maps, opened books, and a few quills resting in a glass inkwell. Scrolls were tucked into corners, half-unrolled as if someone had been searching for something in a rush. A worn leather chair was tucked neatly behind it, its cushion slightly indented from use. This space was lived in—used often, but meticulously kept.

The atmosphere was rich with quiet intellect and mystery, like the air itself was thick with secrets.

On the left wall stood a ladder affixed to a rail, allowing access to the higher shelves. Notes were pinned here and there between the books—some handwritten, others sealed with wax, as though this was both a place of reading and of strategy. An entire corner was devoted to records, their spines numbered and dated.

A single globe sat in the far corner, beside a tall armchair with a velvet throw folded over the back. It looked like the kind of chair you could disappear into for hours, lost in a book, if not for the tension still clinging to your chest.

You didn’t know whose study this was, but something about it felt like a sanctuary—a quiet place carved out of the cold, echoing vastness of the castle.

For now, it would do.

Tucked into the far right corner of the study was a small cubby—a cozy alcove almost hidden by the larger shelves. It was lower to the ground, framed by curved woodwork and slightly dimmer than the rest of the room, as if meant for quiet, private reading. Rows of books lined the little nook, most of them older, dustier, forgotten. But one caught your eye.

Bound in deep blue leather, its surface was smooth and cool beneath your fingertips. The title was etched in delicate silver lettering that shimmered faintly under the dim sconce above—words you didn’t fully recognize, but felt weighty somehow. You pulled it from the shelf and held it for a moment, the cover humming with a strange kind of gravity.

When you opened to the first page, your breath hitched. In elegant, sharp script, it read:

"For the Future King."

The rest of the writing was in an old tongue—archaic, looping, and unfamiliar. You couldn’t quite read it, not fully, but the pages held a strange allure. Margins were filled with handwritten notes—some underlined passages, others commented with short phrases and translations. The ink varied in color and style, as if several people had once studied this book, passing it between them like a sacred artifact.

You flipped through the pages slowly, entranced by the patterns of the letters, the careful notes scribbled in between. Despite not understanding it, there was something soothing about the way the words moved, like a secret waiting to be understood.

But before you could turn another page, a sudden motion startled you.

The book was snatched from your hands.

You gasped and looked up—heart lurching—only to realize that you weren’t alone.

You froze, pulse hammering in your throat as your gaze met his.

A book rested in one gloved hand, the very one he had just taken from your grasp. His other arm hung loosely at his side, but there was nothing casual about his stance. He stood tall in deep emerald robes, the fabric simple yet refined—like him. Subtle silver embroidery traced along the hems, catching the dim light in quiet glints. At his collar, serpent-shaped pins fastened the folds in place—small, unassuming, yet unmistakably regal.

Yeosang.

The flickering candlelight cast sharp shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline, the cold, unreadable expression in his dark eyes.

You had grown up on stories about him—tales of his ruthless nature, his discipline, and the icy demeanor he had inherited from his father. He was said to be a man who did not forgive, who ruled with an iron will and expected nothing less than perfection. Yet, as you stood there in the dim glow of the library, watching the candlelight dance across his features, all those whispered warnings felt distant. In this moment, all you could focus on was how undeniably beautiful he was.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Yeosang’s gaze lingered on the book in his hand for a beat longer, the candlelight catching on the silver lettering like it was something sacred—and maybe it was, to him. He held it as though your fingers on its cover had been an offense, a trespass. But still, something compelled you to speak.

“Your Majesty.” Your voice was quieter than you had intended, almost uncertain.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” you added, swallowing hard.

“You did,” he said plainly.

That stopped you. Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you instinctively lowered your gaze.

“I was just curious. The book... it caught my eye.”

He glanced down at the book, fingers tightening ever so slightly around its spine.

“That,” he said flatly, “isn’t part of the public collection.”

Your stomach twisted. “I—I didn’t know. I swear.”

“You should’ve.” His response was sharp, immediate—like a strike meant to cut, not linger. No softness in his tone, just that chilling calm that made you feel small again.

You lowered your gaze. “I wasn’t trying to steal it, I—”

“I know,” he cut in, voice low and final. “Still.”

The words should have stung, but oddly, they didn’t. There was no malice in his voice—only observation, like a teacher quietly stating a fact. But still, your cheeks burned.

He stepped away from you then, slow and deliberate, moving back toward the desk near the window. You thought that was it—that he’d leave you standing there, dismissed and chastised. You wouldn’t have blamed him.

But instead, he stopped beside a nearby shelf.

His gloved fingers skimmed across the rows of old spines until they paused at a book tucked between thicker volumes. It was smaller, the leather soft and worn at the edges, bound in a faded green-blue that shimmered slightly when he pulled it free.

Without a word, he turned and extended it toward you.

You blinked, surprised. “…What’s this?”

He didn’t answer right away, merely waited until you hesitantly reached out and took it. The leather was warm from his touch.

“It’s written in the same tongue,”

“That one,” he said at last, “you’re allowed to read.”

The cover was cool to the touch, and the letters, though still in that same looping, old language, were softer somehow—less heavy.

For a moment, you just stared at him, waiting for an explanation that never came. He didn’t justify why he had brought you here, didn’t elaborate on why he thought you would be interested in these books. It was as if he expected you to simply understand.

Something about the gesture, the quiet offering of something so rarely shared, left a strange warmth in your chest. Yeosang was not kind—at least, not in the way most people would recognize. He did not speak softly, did not offer reassurances, did not try to make you feel comfortable. And yet, this— was something.

“It’s… beautiful,” you murmured, running your fingers along the delicate, looping letters stamped into the front.

“It’s a collection of parables,” Yeosang said, as if discussing the weather. “Meant for noble children to begin their education.”

You flushed, unsure if that was a quiet insult.

But when you glanced up, his gaze wasn’t mocking. It was neutral. Observant. And somehow, that was worse. You didn’t know what to do with neutrality. At least anger, mockery, or scorn had clarity. This—this unreadable stillness—left you breathless.

He turned from you again and walked to the desk by the window. Pulling out the chair with one fluid motion, he sat, retrieving a set of scrolls from the pile. He didn’t look at you as he spoke next, but his words stopped you cold.

“Sit.”

Your breath caught.

“I… what?”

He gestured vaguely toward the armchair in the far corner, near the globe and the velvet throw. “You clearly won’t leave, so you may as well sit. I have work to finish.”

There was no invitation in his tone. No warmth. And yet, it didn’t sound like a command either.

And yet, your heart—fluttered.

Still stunned, you moved slowly to the chair, your fingers brushing the book’s spine as you sat. It enveloped you instantly, the velvet soft and warm beneath your palms. You tucked your legs beneath you instinctively, like muscle memory from childhood reading corners, and balanced the book on your lap.

Yeosang, meanwhile, returned to his desk. The only sounds were the faint rustle of paper, the scratch of his quill, and your own breath as you opened the book and began to read.

You read, occasionally speaking—soft comments, fleeting thoughts—but Yeosang only responded in small, almost imperceptible ways. A glance. A nod. A shift of his posture. Once or twice, you asked about a few words you couldn’t quite decipher. His answers were short, clipped, but never impatient. Each one delivered without hesitation, as though he'd known you'd ask. And yet, somehow, it felt like a conversation. Time blurred, the soft rustle of pages and distant flicker of candlelight lulling you into a quiet comfort you hadn’t expected. The world outside darkened, shadows creeping along the stone as night fell.

The candle had burned halfway down when Yeosang stood. His movements were precise, his posture tall and unwavering as he walked to the far side of the room, barely a glance in your direction. You could hear the soft scrape of his boots on the stone floor, but it was the sudden absence of his presence that made the quiet seem even more profound.

But as he reached the door, he stopped.

Without hesitation, he turned, his sharp gaze locking onto yours. His expression was unreadable, as always, but beneath the icy exterior, there was something else—a telltale flicker of expectancy, so subtle you might have missed it had you not been watching him so closely.

And then, his next words sent a strange tug through your chest.

“Dinner is in the hall if you wish to join,” he said, his voice steady, even. There was no warmth, no invitation—only a statement, as if the decision had already been made for you. But then—just barely—you caught the slightest pause, a hesitation so faint it almost didn’t exist.

But then—barely—came a pause. So slight it almost slipped past you.

"I’ll be waiting for you."

For the first time, his voice wasn’t entirely detached. It was quiet, careful. But there was weight behind it—something held back, something uncertain.

Your heart ached at the realization. You had been so consumed by your own turmoil, by the wounds that had yet to heal, that you hadn’t considered how this bond tethered you all together. No matter how much you wanted to resist it, to reject the ties fate had woven between you, they were still there.

They were still yours.

And at the end of it all, you had to at least try.

Even if you hadn’t forgiven.

Even if you hadn’t accepted.

So you smiled—small, hesitant, but real.

And just like that, he was gone.

The air felt colder without him, heavier somehow. You stood there for a moment longer, the silence wrapping around you like a second skin.

Then, slowly, you turned. The books in your arms held close, a fragile shield against the uncertainty ahead.

His words lingered, echoing in the quiet:

"I’ll be waiting for you."

And though you knew exactly where he meant, part of you clung to a different hope—

That no matter how long it took, he would wait. they would wait.

Not just for dinner.

But for you.

Masterlist

eleven | thirteen

A/n: my..has it been a while stars. i am pleased to say that i have begin writing again. but due to the new schedule i have it might take longer to update. i have been feeling burnt out my love, apologies. i do not want you to keep waiting, but i kept on thinking if i should just erase all my chapters but then again, i would like to see where the story goes just as much as you do. do not fret, i will be back and always here. enjoy my stars.

Taglist (CLOSED):

@pinkpearlstar @deltamoon666 @kyra1205 @hecateslittlewitchling @dumplingsyum @caratiny-latte @seongwars @halloweenbyphoebebridgers @angelqueendom

@ffenjoyerdazme @lostxxgirl @xh01bri @neemaxx @furfoxsake22 @Thejentheredhead @soulphoenix1618 @pixie0627 @hannahdinse8

@laurtiny112 @innocygnet @the-first-mate @miniverse-zen @katyeongs @nuggiesnuggetdog04 @sweetmoonlight9 @staytinyluv @bluesiebirdie @kaqua @ateezaddict24 @bamdoe @kandy108 @pixie0627 @bunnii-dolls @kheartost @xlilehx @lalelol @Tiny2018 @salnovna @roryy95 @fairylover68 @meowmeeps @awkward-fucking-thing @blackandgreenandblue @moniesmoon @skteezcursed

[shanastoryteller]

Congrats on finishing See Something Say Something!! I checked the notification of the first AO3 email sent out and you initially planned on five chapters.

Would you say that the ending changed considerably since you started in October? Or has that stayed the same?

thank you!

it stayed the same lol. while my fics getting wildly out of control and becoming way longer than i anticipated is pretty common, i'm pretty much never changing overarching plot when this happens. the story that i become interested in telling is typically the story then i end up telling

almost every story can be made shorter or longer. it's less about what happens and more about how that information is conveyed. things that really tend to affect writing length are perspective and breathing room

the shortest fic i have on ao3 that's not part of a series is You Were (Not) Meant For Me (posted 11 years ago, jesus T_T). the premise is that claudia was a witch who intended trained stiles to be a witch and she arranged his marriage to laura hale, the future hale alpha. this is a traditional pairing as talia's husband was also a witch married to talia in service of the pact. except claudia died before she could train stiles or tell him about the engagement. stiles starts learning magic after scott is turned. derek falls for stiles and feels like he's betraying his sister by loving him, betraying stiles by not being the alpha he deserves and not telling him about the arrangement claudia made, and hates himself the entire time, but not enough to stop himself

that's a 100k fic easy

it's 1,696 words

it's extremely limited perspective (derek's) and it's made up only of limited snapshots of moments with very little context. there's no seeing what's happening, only told, which i think would quickly grow boring if it was longer and if the real point of the story wasn't derek's self hatred and how he fails to deal with it. that's the part of the story that isn't told, really - derek does think explicitly that he hates himself, but we're also seeing it in the way he talks and thinks about himself and the people around him

by contrast we have survival is a talent, which is obviously my longest fic. we're over 500k and we've got quite a bit to go

perspective doesn't just refer to character pov, but audience pov - are you being told a story, or are you experiencing the story? this is also tied into breathing room. there's no wrong way, i've done both and will do both, but one certainly requires more words than the other in my experience

siat is told only through draco and harry's perspective, but it's all happening in real time. the audience is being taken along for this story. the thing is that that things in real life don't all come tumbling one after another, not all questions have immediate answers. when depicting character growth and a plot unfurling, i think it's really important to include breathing room to give the audience time to feel that growth and change. i'm stricter about this with siat than anything else i've written, probably sometimes to its detriment. i want you and the characters to have time to feel the effects of emotional revelations and plot hints. i want you to have the time to question and wonder about things the same way the characters do

one time a friend criticized the good place for including the portion where they were alive again on earth because it wasn't as interesting as being in hell, but i disagree. we needed that breathing room both to live with the effects of character growth of going through hell and to have time for the effects of their actions on the plot to settle before they moved forward again. i stopped watching agents of shield because we weren't given enough breathing room - there was never a chance to see the characters not in crisis, the world was always ending, ect. the alchemyst book series has the first like 3 books taking place over a day and a half. i got tired of it after that. there's no breathing room

a story where i gave up on the concept of breathing room was build your wings on the way down. i liked that fic, but i wanted it finished, and to do it with i think optimal pacing would have made it twice as long as it was. so i said screw it, avalanche time, everything is happening all at once right now. there's very little breathing room there, which i think doesn't work too terribly in part because everything is so urgent and everyone is stressed so not being able to catch you breath sort of fits

See Something Say Something did not need to be 215k, although i'm not at all complaining. i feel very happy with how i told this story. but the basic premise - sam getting his powers early, getting involved in the large hunter world secretly from his family, and dean feeling misplaced and worried about how much sam needs/wants him - could have been told a hundred different ways and all would have pulled it off, so to speak

i considered doing the the entire fic from dean's pov (as a sam girl i love his pov because all he thinks about is sam and he's so insane about it) which would have effectively cut out basically the first five chapters. i thought exploring the slow realization of what's going on purely from dean's pov, with the audience having not insight would have been really interesting, just like what I did in dumb luck or good ghost with dean slowly figuring out that sam didn't die in the crash. another thing is the inclusion of all the side characters which i did to make the world feel rich and real, but we didn't need all these outsider povs to get the basic point across. very rarely is something vital being conveyed by an outsider pov, but it reinforced and adds to the main characters. i also initially didn't have wincest, which obviously added a ton of words. i loved exploring dean's self hatred and fear and sam's obliviousness, but bringing them to a place of ignorance to acceptance to happiness is a lot longer of a journey than just dealing with dean's propriety love as an unhinged co-dependent older brother. again, i'm sticking by all these choices, i made them because i thought it was the best way to the tell the story i was most interesting in telling, but my point is that you didn't need them to tell this particular story

it was also how i told the story. we spend a lot of time wallowing in character's emotions, especially dean's and sam's, but the others as well. part of this fic is convincing you that these two brothers should fuck, actually, and doing that effectively is going to take some time, especially at this point in their lives when things are pretty normal. comparatively, fucking your brother after starting the apocalypse is pretty small potatoes. i wanted you to understand these people, to feel what they were feeling, to not feel that it was inconceivable that jess would be willing to share her boyfriend with his brother, to buy all their relationships with each other in a way that isn't purely based on convenience

part of the reason i wrote dumb luck or good ghost before see something say something was that i felt i needed a firmer grasp on who the characters are before getting into who they were and who they could be - especially john, who i feel is exceptionally difficult to write without over excusing his actions or over villainizing them. the reason john doesn't get a single pov in see something say something is that while he's a motivating and underlying factor in much of the story, the story isn't about him. it's about the effect he has on those around him, and i didn't want to sully the pureness of that effect by introducing his internal dialogue, regardless of how persecutionary or absolving it would be. it's just not about him. it's how he responds to others and how they respond to him in turn

anyway! this is another example of something ending up longer than expected, but yeah. the plot of see something say something didn't change much from posting of the first chapter and my stories rarely do - i have plot points in siat that have been there since i posted the first chapter that are still relevant and happening. "harry and draco just. cut dumbledore's fucking hand off" my beloved

[rainydayathogwarts]

majestic march m.list

✯ mar 1 ✯ never ending song - sirius black

rockstar!reader - when your parents divorce, you decide to move to london to finish your last year of school, and take your music career there with you. what happens when you meet another pureblood rebel named sirius black

✯ mar 3 ✯ that look on your face - draco malfoy

draco malfoy's usually neutral face has a tendency to make people think he hates them, but his face always fails to betray his adoration over you.

✯ mar 5 ✯ what boyfriend? - harry potter -> 3k celebration

when you are bed ridden due to your period, Madame Pomfrey comes to check in on you and play match-maker.

✯ mar 7 ✯ the princess and her knight - sirius black

when your boyfriend dumps you, sirius does everything in his power to get you to smile again. and maybe make you understand how much he likes you

✯ mar 9 ✯ when the war is over - poly!marauders -> 3k celebration

with the war escalating, everyone is rethinking their values, and it seems like yours don't match with one of the people closest to your heart.

✯ mar 11 ✯ Phantom of the Opera: Prologue - "Angel of music" - Remus Lupin

You had always been grateful that your parents put all their money into making you the best at something you loved - musical theatre. The opening night of your new show is opening doors for you beyond your career.

✯ mar 13 ✯ perfect pureblooded daughter - malfoy!reader

being a metamorphmagus isn't easy, especially when your parents want you to be a perfect, pureblooded daughter, stoic and emotionless.

✯ mar 15 ✯ summer lovin' - harry potter

you decide to visit harry over the summer, playing the classic 'girl next door' so harry's uncle lets you in.

✯ mar 16 ✯ off limits pt.3 - remus lupin

when sirius sees you kissing his best friend, he decides to have his first real conversation with you in two years, and you finally reveal what life has been like for you and regulus after he left.

✯ mar 17 ✯ mind blowing kisser - platonic marauders

your friend group finds out something shocking about you, Hogwarts's biggest heartthrob

✯ mar 19 ✯ only woman - james potter -> 3k celebration

the first time you and james have a friendly conversation after your breakup leads to something more...

✯ mar 20 ✯ shared kisses, stolen cigarettes - peter pettigrew -> request

you and peter share a cigarette by the open window in the common room.

✯ mar 21 ✯ Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 1 - "Think of me fondly" - Remus Lupin

Sirius has to bring moral support with to come watch your debut as Christine in the Phantom of the Opera. Despite the judgemental pureblooded families around the pair, they are both serenaded by your enchanting singing.

✯ mar 22 ✯ "malfoy" "weasley" - bill weasley

when you watch the quidditch world cup with your family, the last thing you're expecting is to see an old friend. a weasley.

✯ mar 23 ✯ before you go - fred weasley

after years of chasing after you, fred weasley finally convinces you to go on a date with him, and he makes sure to prove all the times you've rejected him wrong

✯ mar 24 ✯ grim greenhouses - neville longbottom

when you defend neville against your cousin, he is convinced he has to give you a little gift as a thank you. but what happens when you decide to thank him for his gift?

✯ mar 25 ✯ after curfew - harry potter

you and harry seem to forget his godfather is doing rounds when you sneak out after curfew

✯ mar 26 ✯ Mrs. Malfoy Riddle - mattheo riddle

mattheo doesn't care that you're betrothed to his best friend, especially not when you're so in love. so he guarantees one last night before you're officially his.

✯ mar 27 ✯ a job for a godparent - harry potter

harry knows you're the love of his life, but he just needs to know that you want kids as much as he does. a day at his house over the summer confirms it.

✯ mar 28 ✯ buy you a drink - ron weasley -> request

when ron unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through a one night stand, he rushes to tell his friends the next day. but unfortunately, that reveals some new information about you, the apparent love of his life.

✯ mar 29 ✯ Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 2 - "The Point of No Return" - Remus Lupin

When Sirius and Remus find you at the celebratory party your parents organised for you, they discover the unfortunate truth of the ultimatum your parents gave you. Luckily for you though, Sirius is quick to think on his feet.

✯ mar 30 ✯ twelve hours - james potter

sometimes having observant friends is unfortunate, but now when they've been blind for so long...

[kamiversee]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 11 || The Thorn and The Petal

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, angst, & fluff.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——"WELL, CONSIDERING THE FACT THAT he's my professor, I thought it'd be pretty obvious that he's one of the hardest on the list." Gojo's voice flew through your ear.

You had him on the phone as you lay on your stomach across your bed. Talking to him is something you want to limit as much as possible but you can't try anyone on the list completely blindsided so, sadly, you still need him.

"Then there's Nanami. As far as I know, he's not interested in sleeping with just anyone-- you'll most likely have to get to know him a bit." Gojo explains. You're taking little notes of this in a journal of yours since it's a lot of information to keep up with. "And uh, you said you met Choso already...?" The man over the phone asks.

"Mhm, ran into him in the hallway. He doesn't seem like he'll be hard to win over." You say casually.

Gojo pauses for a second. Then he sighs, "Yeah, the worst-case scenario with him is that he'll catch feelings for you."

A brow rose in suspicion, "What makes you think he'll catch feelings for me?"

"He's not like the other guys on the list. Aside from..." Gojo takes a second to think, "I guess, Nanami, I'm not sure Choso is used to or even understands the concept of a hookup."

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning, he'll grow attached."

"Okay well," You hesitate. "Let's just hope he doesn't."

"Right." Gojo chuckles a little, nearly sounding relieved.

You write some more stuff into the journal, trying to devise a plan for each man. "Okay and, can you just tell me the last two people on the list?"

"Oh. Well, there's Sukuna, who happens to be Choso's older... half-brother? I really don't know how their family works but, yeah." He answers, sounding a little confused on the matter himself.

You're quiet for a long moment, white noise heard through the phone. It takes you a few minutes to really process what that idiot just told you. First a professor and now you're learning that you have to fuck two people who are related...

"Gojo..." You let out a stressed sigh. "Y'know what, never mind."

"Nono, what is it?" He urges, interested in hearing how you feel about it.

He knows it's probably not the most easy thing to accept but, that doesn't make him care any less about how you feel.

Your eyebrows are tensed, "Half-brother?"

"Okay I know how it sounds but, I'm pretty sure they hate each other," Gojo tells you as if it's supposed to make things sound good.

"Oh my god," You reply, voice sarcastic, "That makes it so much better."

"Listen-"

"No Gojo, I really think I'm done listening. Who's the last person?" You divert.

The sound of him taking a deep breath can be heard, "Fuck, you're not gonna like this one either..."

"What is it?"

"It's Naoya... Who happens to be..." Gojo swallows hard, "Well, he's..."

"He's what?!" You huff, "Spit it the fuck out Gojo."

"I'm like fifty percent sure he's Mr. Fushiguro's cousin or something."

You scoff in pure disbelief. "Why am I not fucking surprised?"

"I'm sor-"

"Apologize to me one more time and I promise you, this will be our last conversation ever." You cut off.

You then drop the phone in your hand onto the bed, putting the man on speakerphone and moving your fingertips to massage your temples. A migraine is on the rise within your head and you don't know how much longer you can put up with this shit.

You swear the only good thing about this is the fact that you're getting paid.

Suddenly, as you think harder about the situation you're in, tears well up in your eyes. This shit sucks. It fucking sucks. You don't wanna do this. What if you get caught doing something with Toji? Or, what if one guy finds out about the other and then you experience a spiderweb effect of everyone figuring your little scheme out?

How can you get out of this situation? Why did it have to be you of all people? Why won't Gojo just find someone, anyone else to do this bullshit for you? Yeah, you need the money-- which is another thing for you to cry about because you can't get a proper job to save your life, but you still hate everything about this.

Before you even realize it, you're sniffling and wet spots are forming against the bed below you.

Gojo's still on the line, wondering if he's hearing things correctly. You hear him call out your name softly, almost as if he genuinely cares about you. The sound of his gentle tone alone makes your crying get a little worse.

"F-Fuck off," You choke out.

You then move a hand to hang up on him because you don't want him to hear you crying like this but he starts talking and you start listening before you press that bright red button.

"Wait, shit, listen. I know I'm an asshole, I know this whole thing is fucked up, I know I'm treating you terribly right now but..." Gojo trails off and you think you hear a thud on the other side of the phone. Did he just hit something? "Fuck, I know you don't want to hear this but I am sorry, honestly."

Your voice is a small whisper as you wipe your face off, "Screw you and your sorry."

"I... I-I'll triple it." Gojo suddenly offers.

You swallow and sniffle a bit, "Triple what?"

"The original price. I'm changing it to six thousand." He says.

You can tell he's serious about it too because as you stare at your phone in shock, you see another deposit made to your account to make up for the interactions you had with him and Geto.

"P-Per person??" You ask to clarify.

"Yes, it's... it's the least I can do, right?" Gojo sighs. Even though you want to ignore it, you can hear how disappointed in himself he sounds.

For another long moment, you're quiet. The least he can do? Bullshit. He's the one who put you in this damn situation in the first place.

"...No..." You end up mumbling out.

He scoffs lightly, "No?"

"The least you could do is delete the video and let me go." Your voice is as delicate as ever, gently hitting the man's ears in a way that makes his heart throb.

Gojo grits his teeth and although you can't see it, his head tips back against his bedframe as he stares up at his ceiling. His hands raise to his face and his words are a little muffled, filled with distraught, "...I can't do that, sweetheart. I can't." He breathes.

The man sounds almost pained at the thought of letting you go.

You scowl at the phone, eyes watering all over again, "S-Stop it with the damn nickname, I hate it-, I hate you."

Gojo has a broken little smile on his face and the voice you hear over the phone is full of hurt, "I know but-," He clears his throat a little and you hear him inhale deeply, "Fuck... you don't really mean that do you?" He whispers.

You don't know why you don't respond instantly like you were before. It's like the sound of his voice was getting to you. Why does he sound hurt too? This isn't affecting him the way it is you so, what the hell is his problem?

"...I don't know," You mumble, "I don't even fucking know anymore."

It goes quiet after that.

You couldn't hear much from your phone but the softest sounds of him moving. It was gentle movements though, not like he was doing anything inappropriate but almost like...

You don't want to think about it or even take a guess but it genuinely sounded like the man could've been crying over the phone.

As soon as you think about it, you scoff at yourself and shake your head. Gojo Satoru, crying because you said you hate him? Yeah right.

"I should uh," You sniffle a bit, "I should go-"

"I'll make it up to you." He suddenly sighs. "All of it. I swear, I'll make it all up to you, okay?"

Again, his words and the tone of his voice are yanking at your overworked heartstrings. "...Promise?" You whisper, having no idea why you're giving him this chance in the first place.

Gojo's smiling at his phone, hearing the change in your voice and feeling relieved that you're actually listening to him, "I promise."

With one last quiet okay slipping from your lips, the phone call ends there.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Within minutes after that ridiculously angsty phone call, you receive a text from someone that instantly has you blinking away your tears.

It's Choso.

It had been maybe a little over an hour and a half since you ran into him in the hallway but, here he was texting you already. It was a simple text that read; 'hey ik we just met and all but, can I call you?'. You had to blink a few times to register what you were reading.

After you mentally prepare for it, you go ahead and respond with a simple yeah in response. Seconds later, the male is calling-, no, FaceTiming you.

You think your heart sinks into your fucking toes. Your eyes are slightly reddened and puffy from the crying you just did and you do not want him to see you right now.

Regardless, you answered the call and have the camera directed toward the ceiling. Choso's stupidly handsome face pops up on your screen and you're smiling already.

"Hey uh, ok I know this is kinda awkward but my brother wouldn't answer and I wanted to show this to someone," He tells you, his voice like a calming balm to your ears.

"You could've just sent me a picture y'know..." You say, your tone noticeably light due to the tears you just shed.

Choso pauses for a second, staring at his phone. "Okay, scratch that for a second, are you okay?"

"Uhm, yeah? Why?"

"You sound like you were crying." He points out.

How the actual fuck can he tell?

You chuckle at him, "I wasn't."

"Then you sound upset. Did something happen?"

"Nothing I feel like talking about right now but, thanks for asking. What did you wanna show me?"

"I won't show you unless you tell me something." Choso says in full seriousness, "And plus, you're not even showing your face which further believes me to think you were crying."

Again, you laugh, "I uh, I just look a mess right now. And the only thing I'll tell you is... I dunno, I had an argument with my..." What the hell do you even refer to Gojo as at this point?

"Your boyfriend?" He suddenly fills in for you.

"No!" You huff, giggling at his assumption, "I don't even have a boyfriend."

You see him smiling a little, "Girlfriend, then?"

"No, Choso. I'm single."

"Ohhh." He hums, sounding genuinely surprised. "My bad, did you fight with a friend?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess you could call him that." You say, shrugging a little.

"Damn. It must've been a big argument."

"What makes you say that?"

His shoulders raised, "You don't even wanna call him your friend."

You scoff a little, "He's just... an asshole."

"One that made you cry?" Choso asks, arching a brow in suspicion.

"No," You roll your eyes, "I didn't cry, Choso."

"Show me your face then."

"I don't want to."

He scoffs, "That's how I know you were crying."

You hate the way the man is reading right through you. "I wasn't." You argue.

"Lying to me when the truth is obvious is crazy," Choso says dramatically.

"I'm not lying."

You see him shake his head in disappointment, "Damn, I might need to remember this as a red flag of yours; pathological liar." He tells you with his voice both serious and playful at the same time.

"You really don't believe me, huh?"

"Not until I see your face, no."

"Fine," You lift your phone slightly, only showing your face from the nose up.

Choso stares for a minute before suddenly smiling fully and holy shit is the sight sexy. The phone is quiet as he stares at you, almost dazed like how he was earlier. You feel a little awkward and have the urge to put the phone down but when he blurts something out, you end up freezing.

Choso tilts his head and his gaze is scrutinizing, "Your eyes are so fuckin' pretty, I'm gonna lose my mind." He compliments abruptly.

Your heart definitely stopped for a minute, maybe three. The way you drop your phone and sink your head into your blanket like a blushing and giggling teenager is comical at this point. The man's words made you smile so hard that your cheeks were starting to hurt.

"Don't... Don't say shit like that so suddenly," You say, chuckling through your words.

He shrugs and sits back into whatever chair he's in, "But it's true. Fuck, show me your full face this time."

"G-Gimme a second," You sigh.

"Why?"

Does he not realize how attractive he is right now? You can't even conversate normally.

"Cause' I... I need a minute." You mumble to him.

The corner of his lips is up in a smirk and damn the way he looks at the phone. "Did I just make you nervous?" He asks, his voice suddenly a little lower.

You scoff, "No."

"Liarrr," He taunts.

"I'm not lying."

He clicks his tongue, his eyes low on the phone. "Then show me your face, princess."

Jesus, the nickname caught you off-guard. You can't do this. Why is Choso so... so... hot? Sexy? Attractive? You don't even know what word to use for the man at this point.

"Fuck. Fine." You end up sighing.

Then, you slowly move to lift your phone and prop it up with a nearby pillow. Since you're laying on your stomach and you're wearing a loose tank top, your chest is pressed against the bed below and Choso has a full view of that and everything else from your neck up.

He blinks a few times and you pray that he doesn't say anything that'll fluster you again.

To your surprise, it seems as though you'd flustered the man without saying anything. Choso's head turns to the side as he looks away from his phone and you get a lovely view of his jawline. Damn, he's got quite the side profile.

You watch him inhale deeply and then peek over to his phone from the corner of his eye as if that'll change the sight on his device. You simply blink innocently at him as if you're unaware of the way you look right now.

"You alright over there?" You ask in an almost sultry tone.

Choso clears his throat and nods, turning to face his camera again, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

He stares intently before saying, "You're somethin' else, y'know that?"

A chuckle leaves you as you tilt your head, "Am I?"

"Yeah. But uh, now that I can see you..." His eyes dart past his phone and you watch as he looks back and forth between the device and whatever is in front of him.

Your eyebrow raises in curiosity as you watch him, "What is it?" You ask.

"Oh, it's what I wanted to show you." He says and you watch him stand up and look down at his phone one last time. "Okay, it's not perfect but I hope you like it."

For a second you're still confused but when Choso flips the camera around, sheer surprise takes over your expression and your jaw literally drops. It was by far one of the most beautiful things you'd ever laid your eyes on.

"Don't freak out, I hope this isn't weird," Choso says quickly as he backs up a little and gives you a full view.

The man had painted you.

It was unique too. Not just like a normal portrait but like how you appeared in his eyes which just so happened to be so very beautiful. His art in general includes darker colors and you can see other paintings behind his newest one, all fitting in with his theme.

"Y-You painted me?" You say dumbfoundedly, "I thought you majored in graphic design."

He laughs, "I do but that's just for school. I paint in my free time."

"Choso you just saw my face for the first time a few hours ago, how the hell did you..."

"I honestly can't explain that," He says with a shrug, "When I got home I uh, couldn't get your face out of my head, and well, if I didn't draw or paint you I think I was gonna go crazy."

You study the art a little more. It's you but at a side profile, your gaze is downwards and you think for a second before you realize it's a painting of you as you were looking at his other art on his phone earlier. Choso painted an image of you from his perspective and boy was it beautiful.

There was predominantly black paint and he has this smudgy yet clean art style you don't think you've ever seen before.

"Choso that's beautiful, oh my god," You gasp, eyes wide and a smile prominent on your face.

You're so distracted by the canvas you're being shown that you miss as the man screenshots the reaction you have.

"You want it?" He offers simply.

You don't even know what to say, "Uhm, I dunno, i-it's your art."

"Yeah, but it's you."

"Kinda narcissistic for me to have a portrait of myself, don't you think?"

"Kinda stalkerish for me to have a portrait of a girl I just met, don't you think?" He asks in return, mocking you.

You giggle, "You're the one who decided to paint me."

"True. Alright then lemme ask this," He turns the phone back around to himself and you watch him sit back down, "Can I keep it?"

You blink. "It's your art."

"It's your face." The man fires back.

"I-," You sigh, "Yeah Choso, you can keep it."

He smiles, "Thanks."

"No, thank you. I didn't think I could look that good." You sigh, feeling all bubbly and light inside.

Choso tilts his head as he looks at his phone, "Have you seen yourself?"

"Don't give me that." You roll your eyes playfully, "Have you seen your art? You could make a pile of shit look good."

"I can't make anything look good, I can only work with the beauty that's already there."

Your voice gets caught in your throat for a second. When you swallow down the compliment he's given you, you can't stop yourself from smiling. "Y'know they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder right?"

"I'm aware. And in this case, I'm the beholder and you're someone I find beautiful." He responds.

Damn the way he's quick with all these comebacks. "I think your gaze is filtered." You say with a shrug.

You see him raise a brow, "By what?"

"I dunno, delusion."

Choso laughs wholeheartedly at you. "My gaze is delusional because I think you're beautiful? Wow."

For a long moment, you'd forgotten about everything again. You forgot about your rules, the list, the situation you're in-- all of it. For once, it felt peaceful, blissful even.

"I'm joking," You tell him, watching as he sighs in relief. "But on a serious note, thank you for this."

"For what? The painting?" Choso asks.

"Yeah, that and uh, calling me. You have some interesting timing."

"Oh yeah, no problem. I'm glad I made you feel better."

The way you and him have these little conversations so seamlessly is something you never want to end. He's so sweet and refreshing to talk to that you wish you could forget about the list and just run away with the man.

"Who says I was feeling bad...?" You reply to him.

Choso rolls his eyes, clearly seeing through you, "I don't like liars y'know..."

You pout, "Whatever."

"And I'm being for real, I'm glad I made you feel better. I uh, hope you and your friend fix things."

You scoff, "You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what he did."

"No, I would." Choso protests. He doesn't know the details but he's being genuine, "If whatever you guys were arguing about was enough to make you cry then, clearly you care about him."

Your head shakes slowly, "You don't have enough context on the situation to come to that conclusion."

"You didn't deny it-"

"I don't care about him." You cut off. "Trust me when I say, I hate him."

Choso chuckles at you. He didn't take your words seriously one bit. "Ehh, sounds like an enemies-to-lovers situation..." He comments with an innocent little shrug.

"Oh hell no, this isn't that." You assure the man.

He gives you a skeptical look, "You sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Damn." Choso blinks, "He really fucked up didn't he?"

"You have no idea."

"I wanna ask more buuut I don't wanna be nosy soo, m'kay." Choso results in saying. "Even so, I still hope you and him get through whatever it is you're going through."

You sigh, "I don't but, thanks Choso."

"No problem, princess." He says sweetly.

Fuck, he keeps catching you off-guard with that. It makes your brain get to stuttering and your face gets hot, "Don't call me that..."

"Why? It's fitting."

"No, it's not." You argue.

"Alright," He glances away to think before saying, "How about angel?"

You sigh, "Stop."

"Pretty girl?" He continues.

"Choso." You call.

He doesn't listen, "Doll? Baby?"

"You're still going..."

He pauses for a minute to think before uttering, "Sweetheart?"

Fuck that made you think of Gojo. You think your body freezes for a second at the thought of the man alone.

"Love?" Choso adds on, having no idea of your little history with these damn pet names.

"You can stop now," You say sternly. "Seriously."

"Alright, alright, my bad. I'll stick to the first one." He hums, "Unless you seriously don't like it...?"

The way he holds nothing but consistent care for your feelings toward things is truly endearing, "Nah, the first one's fine."

Choso nods, "Alright then princess, I'll talk to you later."

You're smiling all over again, "Bye Choso."

The two of you give a little wave to each other before the phone call comes to an end.

Oh, you definitely feel like a teenager all over again. The way he painted you the same day he met you, the way he speaks so charmingly to you, the way he... fuck it's everything about him

Scew Gojo and his shitty little promise of making things up to you, based on the one phone call you had with Choso-- there's nothing that white-haired bastard can do to fix the paining fact that your real chances with Choso are slim to none because you'd never be able to tell him about the list.

And god forbid the man finds out about it.

Butterflies are still stirring in your stomach, the feeling being the after-effect of talking to Choso. You don't want to like him but it's already difficult. You actually shouldn't and really can't like him.

You've gotta distance yourself going forward. You have to.

The question now is, will you be able to?

GOJO SATORU ✔︎

GETO SUGURU ✔︎

TOJI FUSHIGURO ☐

KAMO CHOSO ☐

NANAMI KENTO ☐

??? SUKUNA ☐

??? NAOYA ☐

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader Pt. 9.5*

AN: The poll isn't over juuussst yet but I'm pretty sure of what is gonna win, so here we are <3 I do appreciate those voting for Roo's choice! Kissing your foreheads so softly rn /platonic So I kind of split the diff, you know? This was my choice was this part right here. Bc it makes me laugh. We get more MBC too, since I'm also going to start Part 10! Yay! Then I'll get back to requests! So, you'll get this today, then maybe part 10 either later tonight (Probably Tomorrow), then on Thursday I'll start requests again since Wednesday is my rest day!

ALSO also, people are figuring out my little clues and like I'm so proud of all of us. We're killing it, y'all are great at picking up the small nuances, Kissing you so gently on the forehead right now.

ALSO ALSO, also, I think the general consensus was that it's okay to give Reader a tail? I might hold off just for now to see if any objections come from it, but if there are none come part 11, I'll add it permanently! For this chapter, it's just a trial run! It's totally okay too if thats not something you guys want too, let me preface! If it turns out you guys try it, hate it, and want it gone I can come back and edit this part! Hence the "*" in the title!

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five -> Part Six -> Part Six 1/2 -> Part Seven -> Part Eight -> Part Nine

Warnings: None, really, except for some of my personal ships. I don't wanna see any debate about them, this is mostly my preferences.

☁ He's watching you.

☁ He's watching you and you know it. You're momentarily ignoring it as you're elbow deep in the cookie jar, newly filed nails just barely brushing against a cookie at the very bottom. It makes you huff in annoyance at it before you're moving to kneel on the counter, hoping to reach further into the frankly too-larger-to-be-normal cookie jar. It just evades you're hand once more, and your tail gives a whip in annoyance.

☁ You would use the additional limb, but you've gotten in trouble more times than you could count with using your tail in the kitchen. Something about it getting too close to the Twisteds for it to be sanitary at all. You rolled your eyes at that, but since returning from your time as a Twisted, for a second time, you obeyed where you could.

☁ All while he's watching you struggle, hiding a poorly concealed snicker behind his blanket. It makes you huff once more before finally getting a finger on the cookie, making you grin. You hook it to the side, gently dragging it up so you can grab it, only for it to crumble.

☁ You let out a cry, retracting your cookie-less hand to stare in the jar, bewildered at the absolute audacity.

☁ This time he can't stop the laugh that spills out of him, making you glare at him. "You could've helped."

☁ "I could've." Astro agrees, standing from his chair, where he has a glass of milk and his own trio of cookies on a plate in front of him. "But where's the fun in that?"

☁ He walks over to the cookie jaw and reaches a longer arm in, making your tail wag behind you as you watch him grab one of the larger chunks of your broken treat. You quickly grab your set aside plate and hold it out for him to set the piece on the plate. One by one, every piece is set on the plate before he's pulling his arm back and putting the lid back on. It's flipped upside down so the top of the jar is facing the inside, signifying it's empty.

☁ With so many toons living in one area, it was easy for small things like an empty cookie jar to make tensions rise, so small things like that just made everything flow so much easier.

☁ You thank Astro with a happy little kiss, making him hum contentedly at your actions before you're both returning to the table. You have your own cup of milk as well, both of you picking up the tradition of a pre-bedtime snack a few months back. Or so you thought that's when it started.

☁ For Astro, this had always been the two of you's thing. Sprout and Cosmo baked, himself and Sprout went through old episodes together and the other handler rooms, even Cosmo and himself had scary movie nights. Everyone had their thing with each other, and cookies in the kitchen late at night was yours and his. This was the first place you told him about the Teagan and Rodger tension, which had grown exponentially. And as much as he tried to pretend he wasn't, he was a huge gossip.

☁ The familiar action of just you and him talking about everything going on, debriefing if one would, was something he held so dear and close to his chest, and he's sure you knew it too as you would never let more than three days pass before shaking him awake with a cheeky grin, nodding to the doorway.

☁ It reminded him of when he came back in all honesty. Never would that Astro ever have thought he would've been where he is now, with you and Cosmo and Sprout and Blu and everyone back, but as he is now, he would rather turn into a twisted again then give it up.

☁ His own tail gave a wag as he slid one of his cookies onto your plate, giving you The Look when you tried giving it back. You took it with a humored rool of your eyes, before rewrapping yourself in your own blanket, crossing your legs on your chair as you settled in.

☁ The lights were down low and gave your cheeks the softest orange tint and your eyes the softest of amber highlights. It made his tail wag at the sight of it, the silly thing giving away all of his emotions before he even had the chance to stop it.

☁ "So," You begin, folding your hands in front of you like it's a business meeting. "Check-in. How is Mr. Novalite doing?"

☁ He guffaws at the drop of his name, but copies your seated postion anyway with one pair of hands holding his blanket while the other twists with his tail to stop it from wagging like a lunatic. "I'm...content. Honestly. Sprout and I found some more sealed documents in Delilah's old room and are planning on looking through those soon. Cosmo and I have plans to watch that new Heretic movie that just came out. You and I are having our own date night. Plus, I know we all have a big date night coming up. Did you and Cosmo decide on what you wanted to do?"

☁ You nod, grinning happily as your own tail gives a wag. "Spa treatments then a movie night! We have it all planned out and ready to go, with a few special treats ordered for the night!"

☁ Your excitement is palpable and contagious, so much so Astro has to tighten his hold on his own tail, even if the moon at the end continues to move regardless. "That sounds perfect." He gives a sappy grin. "Other than that, myself and Shelly started a new book Brightney recommended to us, so we've been doing that to reconnect. And I think...that's really it from my end."

☁ You soften at the new information, leaning on one of your hands as your elbow settles on the table. "You sound happy."

☁ "I am. Immensely." He returns, reaching a hand. You give your free one eagerly, letting him hold it and trace his thumb over the knuckles of your hand. "Now, what about you? You've been busy."

☁ You nod, watching his thumb before thinking back to what you've been doing lately. "Well, Cosmo and I have started getting into art lately. We spent last night painting with music in the background, and it was nice. We got to talk without really thinking about it-oh, by the way, we decided you would be the boot in monopoly."

☁"...The boot." He has to take a second, mentally going through the pieces before realizing he never cared enough to know them all.

☁ "Yeah, we originally thought thimble because it sounds like thumb and you have the most thumbs, but it was way funnier if you went with the boot." You explain as if any of that made any sense whatsoever. "Also, did you know he wants like eight kids? Not happening." You scrunch your features before shaking his head. "Like, don't get me wrong, I liked the kids when Gardenview was in it's prime, but eight? All the time?!" You grimace, making him chuckle before your shaking your head.

☁ "Anyway, Sprout and I, what have we been doing?" You think for a second, before perking right up. "A few things! We've been playing games a lot! It started with Mario Kart, and then we found mini-gold clubs on one of the runs and now we set up increasingly difficult holes. It's great! I kick his ass!" You beam. Astro's sure half the problem for Sprout is that the mini-golf clubs made for children are much too short for him, but he doesn't bring that up.

☁ "And with friends, Goob's going through something- which I'll tell you in a second-, but Glisten and I have gotten closer lately. He joined our tag runs recently and he actually kills it! Especially with his teleporting? I don't think he's been tagged once." You explain, raising your head so you could use that hand to gesture as you speak. "We're thinking of doing some sort of Geo-caching too, but it's hard because we can't really leave Gardenview. That's okay though. As for now, I'm here with you, moonshine."

☁ His cheeks dust navy at the compliment, squeezing your hand tighter. "Do you remember the first time we did this?"

☁ You hum, thinking back before nodding. "I think I do. It was before we started dating. I think I remember being pissy because people kept saying Cosmo and I were dating but we weren't. But it wasn't because people were saying it, but because I had a huge stinkin' crush on him at the time and he could not pick up the hint."

☁ He chuckles. "Yeah. I was a little relieved at that you know. I had a 'huge stinkin' crush' on this cute distractor that had come to visit me. Imagine how crushed i would've been." He teases and you stick your tongue out. "Please. You were just as bad. I was doing the same goofy moves to you and Sprout literally within the same week and you didn't pick up on it either."

☁ "Neither of you picked up on anything, don't you fool yourselves." A new voice startles you both, making you look over at the doorway. Sprout is there, raising a brow at you both. Cosmo is hanging off his side, looking like he's seconds away from collapsing, eyes bleary and slowly blinking. Both of you wave at them, even if Sprout's eyes dart to the cookie jar and he gives an exasperated groan. "Again?"

☁ "In our defense, most of this batch were eaten by Goob. He's going through some stuff." You wince, watching as Astro pulls a chair to his side with his foot, close enough they make a soft clink when they hit, opening his blanket the duo. Cosmo takes the invitation, slumping forward as he practically crawls on the chair and burrows into the celestial, who wraps his arms around the cake roll, covering him in his cloak-blanket. At this point, you aren't even sure which it is.

☁ Sprout raises a brow at you, grabbing an apron off the hook and quickly slipping it on as he steps towards the cabinets. "What do you mean? Goob is the last person I'd expect."

☁ "Me too!" You exclaim, gently easing your hand from Astro's so you can turn to the side, making talking to both Sprout and Astro (and Cosmo by extension) easier. "But- Pause. Rewind. What do you know of the Teagan and Rodger drama? I know Astro is caught up because I told him and Cosmo knows because he's been here since it started, but I don't know if any of us have caught you or the other mains up."

☁ "Not much." Sprout responds, pulling out the butter and sugar in practiced motions as you bite into your cookie, nodding as if this was the answer you expected. "What kind of cookies do we want this time?"

☁ "Double chocolate. There's a new cocoa powder-" Cosmo suddenly pipes up, even if his eyes stay shut, interrupting himself with a yawn. "That I ordered specifically for that recipe we were looking at."

☁ Sprout nods at this, preheating the oven as he passes to grab the larger electric mixer. He measures out the butter and two types of sugar before letting them mix, going back to the pantry for the powdered ingredients. "Okay, so what is the reason? Like I know obviously the other day in the elevator there was a nerve hit."

☁ "Yeah," You dip a piece of your broken cookie in your glass of milk. "So I'll start from the beginning. When we first recovered Teagan, her and Rodger were like...inseparable. I mean, they had Toodles, so like we kinda assumed they'd be. Toodles was ecstatic to have them both back too, so we were all like 'great, perfect.' It was not in fact great or perfect." You throw the piece into your mouth as Sprout sifted said cocoa powder, flour and a few other things into a separate bowl.

☁ "It was fine for the first little bit and then we started recovering more and more people, then they began fighting, like a lot. Like more than I would classify as normal for...any couple really. It was silly, small, petty things too like Rodger didn't say good morning to her first." You continued. "He normally said good morning to Toodles first, but he was far from perfect either. I remember once, he like lost his shit because she picked up a research capsule."

☁ "He called her all sorts of names, didn't he?" Cosmo piped in, poking open an eye. You nodded at this. "I wasn't convinced they weren't gonna get physical that run. They were so loud I had to work double time to keep the twisteds occupied as Cosmo had to do twice as many machines."

☁ This made both Sprout and Astro grimace, the latter rubbing the cake roll's shoulder in sympathy even if this was long in the past.

☁ You're thinking momentarily, trying to decipher when it truly turned to shit when it hits you. "It was when Glisten came back that they broke up. Rodger made it this whole thing too in the middle of the run. I don't really blame Glisten as he was unaware of Toodles like...being their kid, we hadn't had the chance to fill him in. He was spending a lot of time with Rodger though, so we just expected him to fill Glisten in. Turns out, he didn't. In retaliation, Teagan started seeing Shrimpo."

☁ Sprout is gaping behind you as he pauses where he's adding an egg to the mixer. He recovers quickly, throwing out the shell before adding vanilla to the mix as well. He turns down the mixing speed before turning to you. "Shimpo? And Teagan?"

☁ You nod, watching Cosmo take one of Astro's cookies, making the Celestial huff at this even if his newly freed tail wags behind him. You grin before turning back to Sprout. "Yeah, trust, we weren't expecting it either. They were also about as explosive as you'd expect. If Teagan and Shrimpo weren't fighting, it was him and Rodger or her and Rodger or all three of them depending on the day. At this point, Glisten was aware he was in a little too deep, but he had fallen hard and fast and didn't know what to do."

☁ "What did he do? I can't expect him to do much in that situation." Astro pipes in, mindlessly handing Cosmo his glass- which the cake roll was reaching for. "And what happened to Toodles?"

☁ "That's what Glisten did." Cosmo steps in, dipping his stolen treat. "He would take Toodles the second this started up and would come to either mine or Y/N's room. His was still being put together and if nothing else, he knew he could trust us to step in if they tried bringing the fight to him. Which they did. It seemed if they were fighting, everyone needed to fight."

☁ "You're joking." Sprout spits, putting down the bowl with the flour mixture he was adding to the mixer. "That's so ridiculous."

☁ "I wish we were." You shrug. "But no. Which is kind of why they hate our relationship so much because we don't fight, and our arguments are often just a matter of temporary disagreement then true hostility." Your tail gives a whip behind you. "It only got physical during this period once. Once was all that was needed though. Shrimpo and Rodger had gotten into it with Teagan instigating, like pouring gas on an electric fire, and Shrimpo snapped, throwing a fist. Toodles saw and Glisten stepped in then while Scraps took Toodles. He was already on the brink, but they didn't break up during that."

☁ "How did they break up?" Sprout asks, now thoroughly entwined in this story. "They aren't together now, as far as I'm aware." He turns back to adding the powdered ingredients and you let him finish before answering.

☁ "Shrimpo and Glisten walked in on Rodger and Teagan." You explain and the bowl is nearly dropped in time with Sprout's jaw. Astro hums at this, having a similar expression when he first heard it. You nod before continuing. "They broke up with them then and there. They didn't take it well and it was this huge thing once more. Runs were absolute agony for the a little while. Glisten, in his defense, absolutely refused to interact with them though. Refused to look at them, talk to them, and I'm pretty sure for a while refused to do runs with them."

☁ The mixer is stopped and scraped as a few cookies sheets are pulled out and prepped, Sprout moving to roll the dough balls out, adding chocolate chips as he does. "When was all this?"

☁ "Right before we got Astro back was when the peak hit. It slowly got better when we got you back, and it's remained a little stagnant. Until recently." You give a devious smirk, knowing all three are hooked onto the information you're about to share. "Let me preface this with saying, everything I tell you I have permission to do so. Goob knows I'm doing this-"

☁ "Goob's involved?!" Cosmo whines, now looking wide awake.

☁ "Not in the way you think!" You quickly remedy. "No, he's involved in a different way. Because him and I work really well together, we do a lot of runs together, which duh, you guys know, but Glisten has wanted to get away from...you know...So he's started hanging with us a lot more. Anyway, they do their own thing, we do ours, but Goob came up to me the other day, and you wanna know what he said?"

☁ "Is that even a question?" Astro snorts. "What do you get from teasing us like this?"

☁ "Satisfaction, especially when I tell you that Goob has a big ol' stinkin' crush on GLISTEN." You share, and all three gape at the new piece of information. "Scraps won't have it, she's literally fuming because, and I quote, why would he want to get involve in all that drama. Goob literally refused to let her say anything about it further, going to war. I had never seen Goob so upset with his sister before."

☁ "Was this during that run we did a couple days ago? The one where tripped over a can of pop and smoked his face against a machine?" Cosmo eagerly asks, sitting up with his hands slamming on the table. "And Glisten was the first to run over and oh my god-?!"

☁ You nod excitedly. "It was! Goob literally has not stopped talking about it since. He even asked how we got together."

☁ "And you had to tell him all about how I was the one to do it?" Sprout smirked, sliding the first batch into the over. You excitement paused as you turned to stare at him, scoffing in his direction. "It was a group effort."

☁ "Nope. All me. Sprout is the greatest. C'mon. Admit it." His spotted cheeks upturn in time with his catlike grin and you continue to scoff.

☁ "Over my dead body maybe." You cross your arms, turning away from him as he comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your shoulders anyway as he nuzzles into your cheek, blowing a raspberry against it and making you squirm against him. You let out a yell at the action, even if he tightens his hold so you can't get out.

☁ The other two simply watch, remaining ignorant to your cries at them for help.

☁ While this has started as just something between you and Astro, watching you and Sprout, with Cosmo returning to burrow in his side, Astro lets his tail wag this time. His heart practically bursts at the full feeling it has and how lucky he considers himself to be a part of this.

☁ You and him will have more date nights, just the two of you, but these moments with all four of you have a way of just making him feel so special.

☁ Almost to the point he feels bad for the others as he knows they'll never feel the same happiness he feels with you guys.

☁ He hopes the past version of himself can rest easy now, knowing he's happy and content, and wouldn't change it for the world.

Also: The Cookie Recipe Sprout is making -> Here!

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 19

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

A/N: happy reading! comments & thoughts are always appreciated! <3

The morning is quiet as Rafe ventures out onto the balcony, the early chill making goosebumps rise on his skin as she settles down on the couch. The mug of coffee is warm in his hand as he sips, head turned towards the view overlooking the backyard and pool area. The sun is slowly rising as Rafe checks his emails on his phone, responding to anything urgent while saving the others for later. He’s wide awake, having gotten in morning work out and shower in, and has some time to kill before he needs to get ready for work.

He pauses for a moment after finishing checking his emails, a faint smile tugging at his mouth as he goes into his photo album and proceeds to change the lockscreen of his phone. He easily finds one of his favorite photos of Isla; one he took during one of their secret outings as they were walking, her hair tied back and lips a deep maroon, pulled back in a smile that showed off her dimples and made her eyes squint, chin lifted as she grinned at him while tugging on the strap of her bag.

She looks beautiful, adorable, and happy, not a care in the world. Rafe’s chest tightens as he stares at the photo of her—of his girlfriend—before setting it as the lockscreen picture of his phone. Now that their relationship is no longer a secret, he can do it like he had wanted to the second he took that picture. He loves her smile, can’t get enough of it. He’s a little obsessed, but with a girl like her, how can he not be?

“Hey. Good morning.” He looks up, surprised as he hadn’t heard footsteps approaching the sliding doors, and Rafe sits back when Sarah appears, hair slightly disheveled and an oversized sweatshirt, probably John B’s, drowning her frame.

“Hey.” His jaw clenches. He sees Isla’s teary eyed face in his mind, and though he knows Isla said that Sarah had come to her defense, it’s not so easy to forget how broken Isla looked yesterday. “Didn’t know you came home last night.” She spends most of her time at John B’s, and since she’s eighteen now, their dad lets her have her freedom.

Sarah clears her throat, stepping out and slowly moving to the chair opposite of him. “Yeah, everyone was asleep by the time I got in,” she says, sitting down with her hands sliding down the tops of her thighs to rest on her knees. Their gazes meet and Sarah’s shoulders slump slightly. “Isla told you what happened yesterday?” she asks carefully.

Rafe puts his mug down on the table with a slow inhale, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “Yeah,” he answers evenly, gaze locking with his sister’s. “She was crying, Sarah.”

He sees her face fall, the regret evident in her brown eyes. Rafe is angry at how her friends found out, pissed that Topper interfered and fucked things up for Isla. He knew she was already so stressed, so anxious about telling her friends about their relationship, and had been waiting for the right time and right way to tell them. But Topper ripped that chance away from her, and she was more or less ambushed by the others. He hates that he wasn’t there for her; Rafe knows, as Isla said, it could have possibly made things worse. It could have had her friends on high alert and refusing to let their guards down if he was present. But at least he could have been there for her when she was being attacked by some of the people she loves the most.

Rafe could tell, just by the look in her eyes, how hurt she was, how upset. Her friends not hearing her out had been a blow. Honestly, Rafe has his friends, but after seeing Isla’s reaction yesterday—and what he knows of the Pogues—he knows that he’s never had the kind of friends that she has in them. It’s always been obvious how tight knit that group is and he can only ever admit it to himself, but Rafe has found himself, at times, being jealous of what they have. He wishes he had those kind of close friends, that kind of loyalty. For all of the shit he’s given the Pogues over the years, their closeness is always something he has admired.

So, to know that he’s the reason why, for Isla, it has gotten rocky—it physically pains him. He hated to see her cry; he’s angry that her friends reacted that way, even if it was expected. He’s desperate for them to be okay with their relationship; not because he wants their approval on his own, but because he knows Isla wants it, and he wants whatever she wants.

A part of him wonders if, if it came down to it, she would leave him to save her friendships. Truthfully, Rafe doesn’t think so—he doesn’t ever want to doubt her. But if she loses her friends because of him, because of his history with the Pogues, especially the guys, how would Rafe be able to live with himself?

“Everyone’s just. . . Shocked, you know?” Sarah says, breaking Rafe out of his thoughts. He blinks and refocuses his gaze on Sarah, who is playing with the blue threaded bracelet on her wrist. Matching to Isla’s yellow. He knows Kiara and Cleo have matching ones, too. “No one saw it coming and—how did it even happen, Rafe?” She shakes her head and Rafe’s throat locks when he realizes his sister looks awed, if anything. “How did. . . When did you start liking her?”

Rafe clenches his jaw, looking out beyond the railing, squinting slightly against the morning sun. His pulse quickens as he debates on his words to Sarah—words he hasn’t confessed to Isla. Not yet, anyway. “I think I always kind of liked her,” he murmurs, absently wringing his fingers together as he feels Sarah’s gaze burn his cheek. “I kept that to myself because I didn’t exactly get along with your friends. But then I’d see her smile and it just. . . Knocks me on my ass every time.” Rafe lets out a quiet, resigned chuckle. It’s the truth, though. Isla is gorgeous in ways that she could bring a king to his knees; her smile, though, is the first thing he noticed about her. Full lips pulled back to show the dimples that frame her mouth, showing off the apples of her cheeks and straight teeth, and the way her eyes squint a bit when she grins big. It’s a breathtaking sight—and one of Rafe’s favorites.

He focuses his gaze on his mug of half drunk coffee. “I knew she was too good for me, too kind. Hell, she still is. But then I saw her at your birthday party a few months ago and something shifted. I saw her hanging out with Wheezie and that was it for me.” Rafe looks at Sarah, who is gaping at him. The corner of his mouth tugs up as he shrugs. “She had me way before she even knew it.”

Sarah stares at him for a few long seconds, no doubt processing his words as she blinks slowly, lips parting. “I—” She stops, shaking her head as a disbelieving breath escapes her. “Wow. I had no idea it was like that for you,” Sarah says quietly, almost sheepishly. Like she’s embarrassed for doubting. Rafe can’t exactly blame her, but it still feels good to prove her otherwise. “Everyone kind of just assumed. . .”

She trails off with a shrug, and Rafe narrows his eyes. “Assumed what?”

Sarah twists her lips to the side, obviously hesitant, and Rafe clenches his jaw as he waits impatiently. “They assumed you were just using her, I guess?” She cringes when she says that, and Rafe knows it’s because his expression has darkened by her words.

“Using her?” he repeats tightly. If he clenched his jaw any more, he’s fairly certain his molars would crack. “What the fuck would I be—”

“It doesn’t make sense to me, either,” Sarah jumps in, in a tone that’s meant to calm him down. 

But Rafe has been pissed off since yesterday, the second he saw tears in his girlfriend’s eyes. He’s fighting the instinctive urge to confront her friends, give them a piece of their mind. He doesn’t give a fuck what they say about him—but they can’t get away with how they had treated her, best friends or not. Hell, as her friends, bringing her to tears was not fucking okay, and the only reason Rafe hasn’t knocked down the door to the Chataeu is because he knows Isla won’t want him to do that.

“They’re just angry and confused,” Sarah continues, tucking a lock of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. “Rafe, you’ve—” She sighs, trying for a helpless sort of smile as Rafe sits quietly, listening with his jaw working. “You all don’t get along, right? And that—that’s an understatement.”

His muscles are tense. “I haven’t done shit—”

“I know. I noticed,” Sarah cuts him off, eyebrows rising. “I think they just have the habit of looping you in with Topper and Kelce.” She winces while Rafe scoffs, leaning back with his arms crossed. “But all of you never got along growing up, either. There’s a lot of history there that can’t be forgotten so easily, you know? Y’all have thrown way too many punches at each other to pretend it never happened. And, trust me, Isla pointed out that they’re not innocent in that, either.” 

Despite himself, he feels the corner of his mouth lift at the mention of his girl defending him. Sarah notices. “Besides, you weren’t too thrilled when John B and I started dating, but you. . . Tolerate him now, right?” she asks, her voice taking a hopeful lilt. Rafe presses his tongue to the back of his teeth and dips his chin slightly in a single nod. “It’ll just take some time for them to come around to this. It’s a shock, right? No one saw it coming.”

“They need to apologize to her,” he says tightly. Rafe doesn’t care if they accept him or not—as long as they’re respectful of his relationship with Isla, and accept that she’s happy with him. “Making her cry is not fucking okay, Sarah.”

His sister nods. “No, I agree,” she says before silence descends, and when Rafe glances at her a second later, he catches her watching him with a look on her face he can’t quite describe. Confused? Thoughtful? He can’t quite make sense of it.

“What?” he asks, sounding more put-out than snappy.

Sarah’s expression softens, her lips pressing together in a knowing smile as she tilts her head slightly. “You really like her, huh?” she asks, her smile widening slightly. “You’re so protective of her.”

“She’s my girl,” Rafe says unabashedly, proudly. “The last thing I want is for anyone or anything to hurt her.”

“Good,” Sarah says with a nod of approval, getting to her feet. Her smile softens, then, more gentle as she looks down at him. “I’m glad she’s got you in her corner. As surprising as this relationship is, I think you guys are good for each other.”

Rafe’s head snaps towards his sister, unable to keep the surprise off his face. When Isla had told him yesterday that Sarah had come to her defense, Rafe had been relieved and glad, for sure. His relationship with Sarah had never not been good; it had just gotten rocky when she first started dating John B and hanging out with his group, simply because of Rafe’s own history with them. But what he had told Isla was true—he sees how good John B is to Sarah, and how happy she is with him. Whatever Rafe’s issues were with them, he can acknowledge the truth when he’s faced with it.

He had hoped the same could have been said for Isla’s friends.

But actually hearing Sarah say that she thinks he and Isla are good together, basically giving her approval. . . It feels better than Rafe would have thought. He’s glad to know that Sarah is on board with this, no matter how surprising. 

When she turns to leave, Rafe watches her back for a second before he blurts, “You and John B are good together, too.” Sarah stills and then glances at him over her shoulder, her eyes slightly widened in surprise. Rafe tries not to shift uncomfortably where he sits; truthfully, he’s only ever been truly vulnerable with Isla, but he wants to get better at it with others. For Isla and for himself; starting with Sarah. He pushes past his awkwardness, his hesitance. “I mean it. I see how happy you are with him. I’m sorry I ever gave you shit for it.”

A few beats of silence pass, Sarah no doubt processing his words, before a breath escapes her upturned lips. “See?” she hums, smiling. “She is good for you.”

*****

The blades of the fan whirr on the ceiling of Isla’s bedroom, and she half hopes the rhythmic spinning will lull her back to sleep. If she strains her ears, she can hear her parents downstairs in the kitchen, but she can’t quite hear her sister, and Isla doesn’t want to. She has no doubt that an argument is going to break out between her and Kie the second they see each other, and Isla doesn’t have the energy to deal with this. She doesn’t want to argue with Kie, and Isla knows that she might just go off on Kie if her sister says anything against Rafe. Which she definitely will.

But, God, Isla just doesn’t want to face Kie, period. Her sister didn’t stick by her, didn’t come to her defense at all. Kie, of all people, was someone Isla thought she could rely on. No matter Kie’s issues with Rafe, Isla had genuinely thought—hoped—that her sister would be on her side when everyone else came crashing down on her. Isla can’t entirely comprehend the pain that flares every time she thinks of Kie not siding with her—which is a lot, since that confrontation at the Chateau. Kie just let the others attack her—let JJ attack her. That isn’t lost on Isla, and she doubts she’ll be forgetting it any time soon.

Her phone beeps, pulling her out of her thoughts, and Isla reaches for it, disconnecting it from the charger and looking at the screen. She smiles at the sight of Rafe’s name.

From: Rafe🤍

Morning, baby. Hope you have a good day at work. Would it be totally fucked up if I visited you at work for lunch?

A breathy chuckle escapes Isla, heart fluttering as she responds.

To: Rafe🤍

hiiiii. it’d be fucked up if you DIDN’T visit me

She doesn’t care that Kie’s working today, too. Doesn’t care that it might just be the shift from hell, working with her sister for a few hours after yesterday’s shitshow. Isla’s not going to let that stop her from seeing her boyfriend whenever she wants.

From: Rafe🤍

Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you around lunch time.

To: Rafe🤍

okay, have a good dayyyy

She lets out a sigh, unable to stop herself from smiling. Texting him, unsurprisingly, lifts Isla’s spirits enough to get her to kick her comforter off and get up from bed. After quickly making her bed, she heads to the bathroom and freshens up, wanting some breakfast before she gets ready for work. Which means venturing down to the kitchen.

As Isla exits her room and heads down the stairs, she silently prays her sister isn’t around, but those prayers were in vain when she sees Kiara in the kitchen with their parents. Anna and Mike are behind the counter, cooking breakfast, and Kie is sitting on the other side on the stool, her back to Isla as she eats. Isla tenses, freezing where she stands in the threshold of the kitchen. She has half a mind to turn and go back up to her room when her dad spots her.

“Hey, honey. Come eat. We made pancakes,” he tells her with an easy going grin, waving the spatula to the counter where the stack of pancakes rests.

From where she stands, Isla sees Kie’s shoulders tense as she sits up and Isla’s throat works as she slowly, reluctantly, wanders further into the kitchen. She warily eyes Kie’s back, approaching the counter and sitting on the stool at the end, keeping some distance as she refuses to look at her sister.

The tension in the room intensifies as Isla places two pancakes on her plate, pouring maple syrup over them before she begins eating as her parents talk amongst themselves by the stove. Isla doesn’t look at Kie as she eats, the clinking of their utensils against the plates ringing with the tension that radiates between them.

Clearing her throat, Isla asks, “Mom, can I get some coffee?”

Anna nods before jerking her chin at Kie. “Kiara, pass the pot to Isla,” she says before turning back to talk to Mike.

The coffee pot is sitting right by Kie’s plate, and when Isla’s gaze slides over, she sees Kie continuing to eat breakfast while scrolling on her phone as if she didn’t hear their mom. Isla stares at Kie for a beat, hoping that her gaze will burn her sister’s cheek, but Kie keeps ignoring her and Isla’s jaw clenches. It’s easier to be angry than hurt as she gets off the stool and storms around Kie .

“Unbelievable,” Isla mutters as she snatches the pot.

As she walks back to her seat, she hears Kie scoff. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Excuse me?” Isla demands, standing by her stool and putting down the pot, arms crossing as she stares Kie down. She’s vaguely aware of their parents’ conversation ceasing to look over at them. “If you have something to say, Kie, then say it.”

“Really?” Kie asks, spinning in the stool until she’s facing Isla. She narrows her eyes challengingly, head tilting. “No, thanks. I have nothing to say to you.”

“Girls—” Their dad tries to cut in, but Isla speaks over to him.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” she says to Kie, shrugging her shoulders. “Since you had no problem letting the others talk to me that way and you didn’t say shit to them.”

Kie’s lips purse, nostrils flaring before she lifts her chin. “They were only telling you what you needed to hear,” she says. Then she lets out a short, humorless laugh and adds, “They were being honest with you—something you weren’t.”

Isla’s chest tightens, teeth pressing together to keep her lips from trembling. “I was going to tell you guys, but Topper beat me to—”

“You think this is about whether or not you were gonna tell us?” Kie asks, eyebrows pulling together as she gets to her feet. “It didn’t matter when you told us, or if—” Her glare sharpens and Isla damn near feels the sting of it. “This is about the fact that you’re dating Rafe Cameron.”

Anna lets out a breath. “Kiara—”

“Of all the freaking guys in Kildare,” Kie continues, staring at Isla in disbelief and contempt, “you chose him? Are you seriously that desperate? It’s pathetic—”

“Hey!” Anna exclaims, walking around the kitchen island to stand between the girls, her expression one of disapproval as she stares at Kiara. “That is not okay, young lady.”

But Isla—the air has stilled in her lungs at her sister’s words. Desperate. Pathetic. The hurt pangs through Isla’s chest and she has to stop herself from physically taking a step back. That’s what Kie thinks? 

She thinks Isla is desperate? Isla’s throat locks up, but she swallows it down as Kie responds to their mom, “She’s dating the biggest asshole in Kildare, Mom! She—”

“I don’t care—you do not talk to each other like that,” Anna says with a shake of her head. 

“What the hell is going on?” Mike asks, staring between the three of them in bewilderment. Isla presses her teeth together, knowing that her mom had kept her word and didn’t tell even her dad about her relationship with Rafe.

Isla tries to ignore the rapid beating of her heart, expression going flat to keep the hurt out of her face, her voice. “Rafe and I are dating. Kie and the others disapprove,” she tells her dad flatly. She sees the flash of surprise on her dad’ face before looking back at Kie. “And I don’t care.”

Kie scoffs, eyes flashing as she shakes her head and cuts their gazes. “Yeah, that much is obvious,” she says.

Isla knows she’s getting nowhere with this. There’s no reasoning with Kie when she gets like this, stubborn as an ox and not willing to hear anything else. The tension in the kitchen is heavy, suffocating, and Isla’s appetite disappears in the wake of this useless, aching conversation.

“I’m gonna get ready for work,” she says to no one in particular, turning around.

“You haven’t had your breakfast yet, Isla,” her dad says.

“I’m not hungry,” Isla responds before going up the stairs.

She gets to her room, shuts the door, and cries. Out of anger or sadness, she’s not sure.

Maybe both.

*****

Isla’s shift at work goes by slowly and tortuously. After what happened in the kitchen, Anna gave Isla and Kie sections of the restaurant far away from each other’s, which might be in vain given the restaurant isn’t that big. But Kie is given the outdoor area while Isla’s section is closer to the front of the restaurant. She and her sister kept their distance, doing their job and doing an even better job of ignoring each other. Isla knows their dad is a little frustrated with them, but Anna keeps him from interfering, which Isla is grateful for. The last thing they need is for this situation to get uglier.

Throughout her shift, Isla has done her damndest not to think of Kie’s words from this morning. Desperate. Pathetic. God, Isla knows it’s not true. She knows that Kie’s angry and upset and feels betrayed by Isla’s relationship, but Isla hates that that’s how her sister views her. By Kie’s own standards, if Isla could have dated anyone in Kildare, then there’s a reason why Isla chose Rafe, and she wishes that Kie and the others could fucking understand that.

There’s been an ache in Isla’s chest since yesterday, one she can’t get rid of. A deep, aching hole that isn’t going away, even after she talked to Rafe yesterday. She knows he’s trying to help—that he wants to help—but she’s not sure how he can. Maybe if he talked to her friends, sure. But if they haven’t listened to her, why would they listen to him? And Isla doesn’t want him to feel useless, like he can’t. The last thing she wants is for him to feel helpless in helping her. It’s not his fault and she doesn’t want him thinking otherwise.

As if conjuring him from her thoughts, Isla glances towards the door as soon as it opens, and despite the heaviness in her chest, she smiles as he enters, her first real one since this morning. Their eyes meet immediately when he takes off his sunglasses, hanging them from the neck of his shirt as he grins at her. 

“Hey, baby,” he greets in that familiar way that makes her heart flutter.

“Hi, honey,” she returns, laughing when his grin widens as she runs a customer’s credit card through the reader. “Give me a sec.”

Rafe nods, standing on the opposite side of the counter towards the end. “Take your time,” he says.

Isla quickly rings the customer up, grabbing the two copies of the receipt and clipping them to the credit card before walking around and heading to their table. “Thanks, y’all,” she smiles at the familiar faces as she places the card and receipts on the table. She takes a quick glance around at her section, noting that no one needs immediate attending to, and heads back around the counter and moves to the end towards Rafe. “What can I get for you, Mr. Cameron?” she asks with a grin, bracing her hands on the counter as she flicks her eyebrows up at him.

He scoffs out a laugh, shaking his head in amusement. “Uh—” He hesitates, drumming his fingers on the counter top. 

“Don’t say nothing,” Isla warns him, pointing a finger. “It’s lunch time. Eat lunch.”

Rafe chuckles and, gosh, is he blushing? Isla falls for him a little more just then. “BLT and a Coke? Please?”

“Coming right up. You want a table?” she asks, nodding towards one of the empty tables in her section. But there’s also plenty of space at the end of the counter, and he wouldn’t be anyone’s way when Isla or another employee needs to move past. “Or you wanna sit here?” she adds, jerking her chin towards the spot.

Rafe follows her gaze before arching an eyebrow at her. “Can I?”

“Mhm,” Isla hums with a smile, dragging the stool out from the space under the counter and placing it at the end. She grins at Rafe as she tops the vinyl top of the stool and when he sits, she smiles at him. The stool is kind of high, and he’s already tall as hell, so they’re at eye level when they sit. “Let me put your order in.”

She finds her dad in the back and she leans into the kitchen, asking, “Hey, Dad. Can I get a BLT for Rafe, please?”

“He’s here?” he asks with an arched brow, even as he’s already reaching for the ingredients to make the sandwich. “Is that a good idea with Kie out there, too?”

Isla tenses slightly as she rolls her eyes, though she takes a step further into the kitchen. “I don’t care what she thinks.”

Her dad huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I got that this morning. One BLT coming right up.”

Isla comes back out to the front, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of Coke. “You came at a good time,” she says to Rafe, putting the can and a straw in front of him. “You just missed the lunch rush.”

“I did that on purpose,” he says with a small grin, folding his arms on the counter and tilting his chin at her. His smile turns knowing. “Didn’t wanna distract you when it was busy.”

Isla laughs, feeling a bit lighter as her own arms fold on the counter and she leans forward. “You’re so considerate,” she muses, moving towards her.

He meets her halfway and her eyes flutter shut in response to the quick kiss they exchange, feeling any lingering tension melt away from her body at the first touch of his lips against hers. The kiss is brief but sweet and gentle, even as Isla feels the thrill of being able to kiss him publicly. The secret and sneaking around was fun on its own, but this brings a new kind of giddiness that Isla isn’t used to.

She pulls away with a quiet sigh, not quite wanting to open her eyes just yet as she feels his forehead against hers. But the hair at the back of Isla’s neck stand when she feels a prickle of awareness, like someone is watching her. And when she pulls back and opens her eyes, she glances over to see Kie glaring at them as she fills up some glasses from the soda machine on the opposite side of the restaurant. Isla’s jaw clenches at the look of contempt on Kie’s face, appearing as though she’s grossed out by the sight of Isla and Rafe as she scoffs and turns away with a shake of her head.

Isla looks away from her, catching Rafe frowning at Kie before his gaze slides back to Isla. “Did you guys talk more?” he asks, unfolding one arm enough to cover her hand with his.

Desperate. Pathetic. Kie’s earlier words make Isla’s throat lock up as she drops her gaze down to her and Rafe’s hands. His larger one covering hers, the gold family ring on his pinky gleaming under the light. “Kind of,” Isla answers in a mumble. When Rafe arches an eyebrow questioningly, Isla shakes her head with a half smile, gaze casting downwards again. “Nothing worth repeating was said.”

“Hey.” His free hand reaches towards her, fingers lightly grasping her chin to lift her head until their gazes meet. Isla sees the concern swimming in his blue eyes, making her chest tighten as she feels his thumb lightly brush across her chin. “You need me, for anything, you let me know, okay? Don’t carry this on your own. This is about both of us so just—” Rafe lets out a breath, a kind of desperation flashing across his face. “Just lean on me, okay? Please.”

Isla’s throat works when she hears the plea in his voice as it heavies his words. And while part of Isla wants to keep it to herself, to not burden Rafe with what’s been said so far, she also knows it’s not fair to him to keep him in the dark. She’s hurting, and she knows Rafe wants to know because this concerns both of them, in the grand scheme of things.

“I will,” Isla promises with a nod. “Later, though, okay?”

Rafe nods just as Isla hears her dad call out, “Isla, your BLT.”

She pulls away from Rafe, grabbing the plate of food and thanking her dad before placing it in front of Rafe. “Bon appetit. I’ll be right back,” Isla says, squeezing his shoulder as she moves past him to attend to some tables.

She brings water to one table and begins taking the orders for another, and Isla can feel someone’s gaze on her—a weight she recognizes intimately. The smile tugs on the corner of Isla’s mouth before she even looks up and when she does, she sees Rafe watching her with a small smile as he reaches for his drink. Isla’s heart flutters just because of his stare, flicking her eyebrows up playfully and making his smile widen before she focuses her attention back on the customers.

She keeps busy for the next ten minutes or so, avoiding eye contact with Kie whenever her sister comes inside because Isla doesn’t want to see the faces her sister makes whenever she looks towards Rafe. Kie may not like having him here, but every time Isla glances over and looks at him, she can’t help but smile, loving the sight of him there.

By the time Isla gets back around the counter, Rafe is finishing off his lunch. “You’re closing, right?” he asks as he wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Yup,” Isla answers with a sigh, leaning with one hand against the counter top and the other resting on her jutted out hip. She widens her eyes at Rafe, lips pursing before she adds sarcastically, “Should be a blast.”

She meaningfully nods her head towards the outdoor eating area, and Rafe presses his lips together. “Kie’s closing, too?” he asks and Isla nods, her stomach twisting. Rafe frowns, his gaze looking her over as though he can see her inner turmoil. “You’ll be okay?”

Isla scoffs. “I’ll survive,” she says with a shrug, glancing at the time on her Apple Watch. “You gotta head back?”

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, standing up and pulling out his wallet from the back pocket of his pants. “Can I get the bill?”

Isla makes a face, standing straight as she crosses her arms. Rafe stares at her, confused, as Isla lets out a scoff. “It’s on the house, honey.” He’s always paying for her food, buying her things; this is the least she could do.

Rafe’s expression falls flat with a dip of his chin. “No, let me—”

Isla cuts him off by stepping closer to him, their fronts pressing together. She tilts her head up at him as he arches an eyebrow down at her, mirth flickering in those blue eyes as Isla grins with a hand pressed to his chest. “You can pay right here,” she tells him, bringing her free hand up to tap her lips with a finger.

His lips purse in amusement, a subtle tilt of his strong chin as Isla wiggles her eyebrows playfully, trying to stifle her laugh. “You’re somethin’ else,” he murmurs before leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his hand resting on her hip.

Isla smiles against his lips, stomach fluttering when he hums into the kiss. “You love it,” she mumbles in response, making him chuckle lowly.

They break the kiss all too soon. “Very true,” he says with a wink. “Text me later, yeah? If you’re not tired, we could do something.”

Isla nods, biting her smiling bottom lip as he steps away. “I will,” she says.

He leaves after saying goodbye, and Isla lets out a long breath before getting back to work. The rest of the day passes by uneventfully, serving familiar faces and then some. She and Kie manage to avoid each other for the remainder of their shift, awkward and tense but in stilted quiet. But Isla should have known that once the last of the customers leave and the doors are locked to the public, it would only be a matter of time until things came to a head once again.

Except it all started by an innocent comment from Isla’s mom. “It was nice to see Rafe,” she says to Isla as she counts the money in one of the registers, while Isla counts the other. When Isla glances up, she knows for a fact sees Kie tense up from where she’s cleaning one of the other tables. “I hope you didn’t make him pay for lunch.”

Isla snorts into a laugh, mentally counting the money as she sorts through the bills. “Of course, I didn’t. I mean, he tried to, but I told him no.”

Anna chuckles, but it’s Kie who scoffs from where she stands. “Yeah, sure, don’t let the filthy rich guy pay for his lunch. It’s how the rich stay rich, you know,” she says, throwing a reproachful look at Isla over her shoulder. “Keep giving them shit for free. It’s only a matter of time until they take advantage of you.”

Isla knows she shouldn’t engage, that Kie is only trying to provoke her. But she’s also sick of all the nasty glares Kie had been sending Rafe during the forty minutes or so he was here, as well as growing sick of the harsh words she keeps spewing without a care. “Can you stop talking like you know him?” she asks, narrowing her eyes. She’s definitely lost where she was counting but she can’t bring herself to care right now. 

“I do know him,” Kie snaps as she fully turns around, features pulled tightly into a glare. “He’s the guy that used to happily get into fights with our friends, remember? He’s the one who gave Pope a black eye and knocked John B off his bike at the last Enduro and got JJ fired from that mechanic job last year—”

“JJ keyed his car, Kie, or are you forgetting that part since you like him?” Isla cuts in, jaw working. The full story is that JJ had that job at one of the mechanic’s over on Figure Eight because the pay was better than working at an auto shop on the Cut, and Rafe had brought in his car right after that last Enduro where he and John B crashed into each other. And Isla can admit, that crash had looked purposeful on Rafe’s part, but no one got hurt—miraculously—and neither of them won that race. And so when Rafe brought his car to get fixed, JJ had done that. But not before keying his car, too. It was an impulsive, idiotic decision on JJ’s part, but that’s also not new.

“And stop making it sound like that the guys aren’t innocent, either. They love to pick fights, too,” Isla says with a lift of her chin. She narrows her eyes, pulse quickening. “You’re so damn quick to judge Rafe, but you don’t know him. People can change—”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Kie scoffs with a roll of her eyes, her tone heavy with sarcasm. From her peripheral vision, Isla can see her mom has stopped working, watching the two of them with worry. “Just ’cause he stopped shitting on us for a couple of months, he’s suddenly a brand new person. Do you seriously believe that?” she demands with her arms crossing over her chest, her expression holding nothing but judgement in the purse of her lips and arch of her eyebrow.

Isla feels like she’s losing her mind. “Yes! Because I spend time with him!” she exclaims, voice raising his frustration. “And you know me, so why the hell would I want to date anyone that I didn’t think was a good person? You think I didn’t think about how you guys would take it, how y’all would feel, when you found out about us?”

Kie’s nostrils flare, not backing down with a stubborn tilt of her chin. “Because you know, deep down, exactly the kind of person he is. You were embarrassed—”

Isla’s temper flares, chest tightening. “Don’t fucking put words in my mouth, Kiara,” she snaps, noting the way her sister’s eyes widen slightly.

Anna places a hand on Isla’s arm. “Isla—”

But Isla shrugs it off, walking around the counter until she’s standing in front of it. Kie is still a good ten feet away. “I wasn’t embarrassed to tell you about him,” Isla says, practically gritting the words out through her teeth. “I was anxious because I know you guys wouldn’t want to see the truth that people can change. You’ve all built some narrative in your head that he’s some kind of villain, when I know for a fact that he’s not. I was nervous because I know it’s hard for y’all to let shit go, and you would hold the past against him when he’s proven to me that he’s not the same person he was even a year ago.” 

Isla’s chest has grown tight, her breathing a little shallow. She can hear her heart thundering in her ears, drowning out the sound of her dad’s heavy footsteps coming out of the back, no doubt watching this unfold with her mom. “But I had hoped you guys would prove me wrong and would at least hear me out, but that’s the only part I was wrong about, I guess.” She shrugs, unable to fake nonchalance as she clenches her jaw. Kie’s gaze is hard and Isla isn’t sure if she’s putting on a mask or what. She’s too damn tired to even try and figure it out. “You, though,” Isla shakes her head with a hollow laugh, the corner of her mouth curved up in a sardonic smile. “You really surprised me, Kie. I thought at least my own sister would try and defend me. But you just joined the rest of them. Didn’t say a damn thing against JJ when he was going at me.”

Isla swears she sees Kie’s lower lip quiver for a brief moment before her sister says, “You’re the one who chose your relationship with Rafe over your friendship with us.”

Isla’s heart cracks, but she has her response ready on her tongue. Even as tears threaten to fill her eyes. “And you chose your hatred of him over your supposed love for me.”

The blow lands, watching as Kie flinches ever so slightly and Isla doesn’t feel an ounce of guilt for uttering those words—not when she believes them, in this moment. Kie shakes her head slowly. “You don’t get to lie to us and then victimize yourself in all of this.”

Victimize myself? Isla would laugh if she wasn’t so damn hurt. “The only reason I lied was because I didn’t want to have to make a choice,” Isla fires back, eyes narrowing as she tries to keep the hurt from leaking into her voice. “Or do you not remember JJ giving me that shitty ultimatum? Or, oh wait—” Isla feigns a look of surprise, eyes widening. “Do you not care because you made the choice to stick by the guy you like instead of your sister?” Isla scoffs, pulse racing so quickly that it threatens to make her dizzy as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Pretty hypocritical of you, Kie. And real fucking hurtful.” Her voice shakes on those last four words, fingers curling into her palms. “I know you guys felt betrayed, or whatever, but did you think for a second how awful you guys made me feel with all of that shit you said?”

Silence from Kie, and Isla’s throat locks. “I didn’t think so,” she whispers. 

Kiara’s lips part, but she still doesn’t say anything, seemingly at a loss for words. But the fight somehow still remains in her brown eyes, making Isla remain tense. “Okay, girls,” Anna says from behind her in a calming voice. “Let’s just take a breath, okay?”

“No, that’s not necessary,” Isla cuts in, her hard gaze fixed on Kie. To her sister, she says, “I like Rafe, a lot. And I love you guys. But you’re not being fair, and if you guys were my friends, I shouldn’t have to beg you to explain anything. You guys weren’t the only ones who didn’t like Rafe. I was right there with you, remember? But obviously shit changed—enough for me to actually date him. Did you even think of that?” When Kie doesn’t say anything, lips pressed together and jaw working to show off that conflicted expression on her face, Isla loosens a rough breath. She blinks a few times as she turns to face her parents, who are watching them with twin expressions of worry. Isla inhales shakily. “I know I’m supposed to help close, but can I just—” She shakes her head. “I need to go.”

Her mom’s expression falls, forehead creasing with worry. Her dad places a hand on Anna’s shoulder while nodding at Isla. “Go ahead, baby. We got it.”

Isla nods in gratitude, offering them a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Anna bends to grab Isla’s purse from under the counter, handing it to her, and Isla mumbles a thank you before exiting the restaurant, not sparing a glance back at Kie. Isla’s not sure if Kie’s going to get a lecture from their parents or comfort, maybe a mix of both, but she doesn’t stick around to find out.

The second she gets in her car, she starts it but doesn’t quite pull out of the lot. Instead, she grips the steering wheel and leans forward, pressing her forehead against it. A rough breath escapes her, eyes squeezing shut as she tries to calm her racing pulse down. Whatever she said, she knows needed to be said. Her sister needs to know the hurt she and the others caused to Isla, and whether or not that’s going to change their stubborn nature, Isla doesn’t know. Deep down, Isla believes that eventually things will work out, that they may even look back and laugh at all of this, but she really fucking wishes that eventually was right now.

She inhales sharply before exhaling slowly, throat working as her grip on the wheel tightens. Isla feels the tears escape with another shuddering breath, sniffling as she sits up and wipes at her cheeks. “Pull yourself together,” she mutters, flipping down the visor and sliding open the mirror to pat and wipe at the area under her eyes to get rid of any mascara that smudged. Swallowing, Isla pulls out her phone and dials the number she already knows by heart. 

It rings twice before Rafe’s deep voice answers. “Hey, baby.”

Isla sighs. “Can I come over?”

[flemingsfreckles]

Replacement Pt 11

Read the rest of the series here!

Warnings: some angst

WC: 2.7k

A/N: hi, I’m trying to get this series done, to be quite honest, I’ve lost some of my motivation with writing recently and this series has been hit the hardest with writers block. I’d imagine it being wrapped up in another 2-3 chapters mainly because I’m struggling to write it but I would hate to leave it unfinished.

Dating had been easy with Jessie, at least at the start. The two of you fell into the routine of going over to each other’s places, spending your nights watching Jessie expertly move around the kitchen while you tried to keep up. She’d give you a small task, claiming you were helping but you were pretty sure she just wanted to make you feel included.

It had been sweet, and almost domestic, as if you were living together without actually living together. You’d stay at her place until it neared 10 before you’d kiss her goodbye and head back to your own bed. Jessie had offered for you to spend the night the first few days, offering to take the couch, after a couple rejections you noticed she stopped asking. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend the night, you did, it was just unfamiliar territory. You didn’t know how to spend the night.

It had been nearly two months since your first official date and Jessie was now over at your place for another dinner in and movie night. It was your standard date, it was easy, the two of you got to talk before getting to cuddle for a few hours while you “watched” a movie. More recently you’d both let your hands wander on each others bodies, ignoring the movie, and tonight was no different.

Movie long forgotten once again as the two of you found entertainment in not just fleeting touches but each other's lips. Quick fleeting kisses mixed with slow, deep ones had you both occupied on the couch. Your hands roamed up and down Jessie’s back, giving her shoulders an appreciative squeeze. Her hand rested on your side, occasionally caressing you with her thumb while her other hand held her body over yours.

The movie was still playing but all you could focus on was the girl on top of you and the way she felt. The softness of her lips against yours, the gentle slide of her tongue, how she’d nip at your bottom lip every once in a while. The small noises she made, between the sighs and small muffled moans of satisfaction your ears were only tuned in to hear her. The heat of her body in yours was intoxicating, how her chest was flush to yours, her hips digging into your own slightly, she was in your personal space, something you usually hated, but for once you didn’t mind at all.

As you continued to makeout, Jessie shifted, her leg coming to rest between yours, her thigh gently putting pressure between your legs. The sensation caused a small groan to rise in your chest before coming out against Jessie’s lips much to your surprise. Hearing your own sound had you feeling embarrassed, you quickly pulled back from Jessie muttering an apology as you removed yourself from touching her.

“Well, that was nice.” Jessie sat back on her knees, a hand running through her hair, a slightly dazed look across her face, she looked gorgeous.

“Yeah, yeah it was.” You smiled at her, feeling the heat on your cheeks, shying away from the way she gazed at you. You noticed Jessie suddenly taking a deep breath before sitting back on the couch and running her hands along her thighs. You could nearly feel the shift from fun and light to more serious.

Jessie looks up from where her hands sat on her thighs. “Um, so I know this is all new for you, so if it’s too soon I understand.” She pauses looking at you. You give her a nod, encouraging her to continue despite the unsettling feeling building in your chest. “Would you, maybe, want to make this, us, more official?”

That was definitely more serious. You can start to feel your heart start to pick up, the sound of it pumping blood rushed loud in your ears. “You mean like girlfriends?” You managed to speak, suddenly realizing how dry your mouth was.

“Yeah, or partners, whatever title is fine, I just mean like officially.” You could tell Jessie was nervous even posing the question, the way she tucked her hair behind her ears and let her hand rub the back of her neck all while avoiding eye contact with you.

It should’ve been an easy yes, why wouldn’t you want to be her girlfriend? She had been nothing but perfect, she listened to you, she made you feel seen, she was gentle, she made your heart race and your smile brighter. But as you sat there you realized becoming her girlfriend would make you everything you spent years denying. It would mean your parents were right, maybe there had been something with Grace or that teammate all this time, you were everything they tried so hard to keep you from being.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” Jessie’s dejected voice brings you out of your thoughts. You watch as she begins to push herself up from the couch.

“No,” you reach a hand out in her direction to stop her from standing up. You wait for her to settle back onto the couch before continuing, “I’m ready to make this official.”

“Are you sure?” Jessie looked at you as if she didn’t fully believe the words you spoke to her.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Jessie lets out a sigh of what appeared to be relief, her shoulders falling from the tensed position they had been in. Watching her relax settled your own nerves, the tension fading. “Janine will be so prideful once she knows.”

The mention of her name brings the pit in your stomach back in full force. “Janine?” You questioned.

“Yeah, she’s been suspicious of us for a while and she loves being right.” Jessie says standing up and walking over to the fridge, refilling her water.

“Why does she need to know?” You ask, Jessie stops filling her bottle and turns to look at you. Jessie’s face falls from a look of excitement down to confusion. You weren’t sure why anyone needed to know, your relationship was between the two of you, no one else needed to be involved, they couldn’t be involved.

“She’s my best friend, why wouldn’t she know?” Eyebrows scrunched hard Jessie looks at you with a slight frown.

“I didn’t know being official meant we’d be telling people.” You can feel yourself getting defensive, having to bite back from raising your voice at Jessie out of panic. You weren’t formally out to anyone, sure Janine had heard about your crush but you never confirmed anything with her, let alone the rest of the team or the rest of the world.

There's a long pause, the two of you sitting in uncomfortable silence before Jessie speaks up. “Would that change your answer?”

“No, I just, I don’t know if I’m ready to be out, publicly yet.” You picked at the skin on your hands, trying to voice your feelings to her.

Jessie sighs, “Right, of course.” While she nodded in agreement, the disappointed look on Jessie’s face didn't go away.

You didn’t want to upset her, it made sense she wanted to tell her best friend, the more you thought about it and pondered the idea of Janine knowing, the less scary it seemed. It was just Janine, your first friend in Portland. You trusted her enough to tell her all your past. She was the first one to truly know you, all of you. “I mean, if you want to tell Janine, that’s okay with me, she sort of already has an idea that I have feelings.”

“No, I don’t have to.” Jessie quickly brushes off the idea, waving her hands. You can tell she’s just trying to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable. “Really, there’s no rush.”

“No, she can know.” You try to give her the most genuine smile you can. “We can, well you can tell her that I’m your girlfriend.” You watch as Jessie breaks into a smile at your final confirmation that you were her girlfriend. Saying the word out loud, confirming you were dating another woman, was oddly comforting.

“Yeah?” Her smile is so wide it’s contagious and you find yourself smiling back at her.

“Yeah.”

You felt elated going to bed that night, she was your girlfriend, you had a girlfriend who made you feel on top of the world and suddenly those harsh voices of your past faded slightly more.

Unfortunately that elated feeling didn’t last too long as you and Jessie found yourselves in the middle of an argument one evening just two weeks after you had made it official.

“So what? We’re just going to hide in our apartments forever?” Jessie threw her hands up questioning you.

It was your fault she was upset, you had caused it, you and your own insecurities. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it blew up into one. You had been scrolling on Twitter following a game in which you scored off a beautiful pass from Jessie. Naturally you two gravitated toward each other in celebration, her jumping into your arms. Your hand had caught her on the butt before you quickly moved it onto her back, thinking nothing of what it meant, you were teammates celebrating.

Of course those watching took it to mean everything, immediately following the game your social media was filling with rumors regarding you and the Canadian. What didn’t help was the way Jessie had winked at you as she walked back to her position, only fueling the rumors and questions. Rumors that pondered if you were gay, posts that wondered if you and Jessie were dating, comments that argued that you weren’t seeing Fleming, you were seeing a different teammate.

You had been uneasy and on edge the rest of the night which was quickly picked up by Jessie. When you arrived at her place she immediately started interrogating you. She had asked what was wrong over and over until you broke.

“I think people know about us, we have to tone it down.”

“What are you talking about? Tone what down, we don’t show affection, no one even knows we’re together!”

“You jumped into my arms and winked at me! You can’t do that!” You handed her your phone, a post from Twitter open on the screen.

Jessie’s eyes scanned the screen reading before looking at a few other posts. “That means nothing, I jump into Janine’s arms, I’ve jumped into plenty of people’s arms, that has nothing to do with us, I was celebrating a goal.” She passes you the phone back.

“People are always blowing stuff out of context anyway, I wouldn’t worry about it, and so what if they know?” She said nonchalantly with a raise of her shoulders.

“They can’t know!”

“Why not?”

“I’m not ready.” Just as you had said about telling Janine, you weren’t ready. Only this time you were sure in that choice. You weren’t ready to make this information about you public, let alone your relationship public.

Jessie pinched the bridge of her nose before sighing and speaking. “Then when will you be? Because I get that this is all new to you, but I don’t want to hide this forever! I want to be able to take you out, on a real date, not just being stuck in our apartments doing whatever fake date thing it is that we do! I want a real date!” Voice now raised it was obvious Jessie was upset.

Her words stung, the way she was so quick to invalidate the way you two had been dating for the past months. “They’re real dates to me.” You said, your voice coming out more timid than you expected. You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince her or yourself that what you two had been doing was in fact dating.

You watch Jessie’s face fall, realizing the way she had just insulted the time you’ve spent together. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You sure?” You didn’t want to cry but could feel the way it was becoming hard to swallow and the way your eyes stung.

“Yes, I’ve really liked what we have going,” she runs her hands hard on her face, taking a hard breath, “but at some point, I need to know I’ll be able to share this. It doesn’t have to be immediately, I just need to know that someday, my family will get to know, my, our, teammates will get to know, my friends, your friends. I really, really like you, but I can’t be a secret forever.”

“Okay.” You nod at Jessie, your own voice still soft in comparison to her louder, harsh tone. For the first time in weeks you felt uneasy sitting in silence with Jessie. You make a show of looking at your watch. “I, I should get going, it’s getting late.”

A look of surprise crosses Jessie’s face as she looks at the clock on the oven. “It’s only 8.”

“Yeah, but, long day, my head's all over the place, I’m sort of ready for bed.”

“Okay, I can walk you home.” Pushing herself away from the wall Jessie makes her way to follow you to the door.

“I’m good, I’ll be fine, thanks.” Waving a hand at her to stay where she’s at, she ignores it and continues to make her way toward the entryway the same way as you, just a few steps behind you.

Grabbing your coat from the hook you don’t even slid it on. “Goodnight.” You said quickly, barely looking at your girlfriend before opening the door and slipping out, not even waiting for her response.

“Goodnight.” Jessie whispered to the closed door in front of her, she had followed you expecting to receive a goodbye kiss like normal, a hug and a promise to see you the following day. She got none of that, she got a cold shouldered goodbye. She hadn’t meant for your conversation to go that way, but she messed up and she knew it, letting the gravity of the situation set in, Jessie turned the light off, heading to bed with blurry vision as her tears ran down her face.

[x0cup1dluv]

SHADOW OF DESIRE

Mafia!jungkook x introvert!reader

Info:

Kim y/n: age 20, introvert, anxiety, future songwriter.

Jeon Jungkook: age 22, confident, manwhore, mafia son.

Both enrolled into Yonsei University.

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Warnings: Smut!!!! Dark romance, abuse, toxic relationship, yearning (a man who yearns is a man who earns), smut smut smut smut, bullying, deals, smoking, smut smut smut, virginity lost, smooth sex, rough sex, blood from virginity, etc….

————————

Please be cautious because some themes may be suggestive!

This is my first story I’ve written and there’s gonna be multiple chapters!!!!

It was November 4th 2025. The time was currently 11:43 pm. I have my first day at my new college tomorrow since i transferred. I am so nervous.

I've suffered from really bad anxiety ever since freshman year. I'm on medication but we all know anxiety never truly goes away...

Every time I had anything come up where social interaction was involved I would panic.

Currently, I'm laying in bed looking at the ceiling. I can't stop thinking about tomorrow. What are people gonna think of me? Will I get bullied just like high-school? Oh gosh! People are gonna stare at me while I introduce myself!

Fuck.

I've got to get a hold of myself.

My life can't go on like this.

I turn to the side to get into a more comfortable position to fall asleep.

And around 25 minutes later, I did thank god.

————

I wake up to the sound of my alarm which is at 7:30 am. My class is at 9:15 but I like to get a good start of my day.

I walk to my small kitchen in my studio apartment.

I love my apartment. It's very cozy to me and I love my view of Seoul.

Is it the best apartment I could dream of? No. But it works as I am a college student.

I'm currently trying to get my degree in literature. I love writing and my goal is to become a songwriter and eventually maybe even a producer.

I know I could've avoided college with that job choice. Everyone tells me that. But I just didn't want to miss out on college since people hype it up so much.

I get my matcha and drink it sitting in my chair looking out to the city.

At around 8:00 am I get changed into my uniform before packing my bag. I pop my anxiety medicine in my bag just incase.

Fast forward, it's now 8:15 and I leave my house to get to the train stop. The walk to the subway station is about 15 minutes and I would get to the university around 8:45.

————

I step onto the Yonsei university campus. Gosh it's even more beautiful than I could imagine. It looks like a castle and everything is so gorgeous.

I go to check in and get directions to my class which was easy to navigate.

Once I walk in, I see people all talking to each other. Which was weird to me cause my previous college, no one really talked we all just wanted to get our diploma and leave.

I sit in a non-occupied seat in the 4th row of the class.

As I'm unpacking my bag to get all my stationary out I see 3 girls walk up to my desk.

"Oh! You must be new here?"

A random girl was talking to me? She had longer black hair and was very petite. She was pretty. But I didn't get a good vibe from her. She also had 2 little minions standing behind her giggling.

My eyes widen as I look up at her. "Uh- yeah I just transferred." I say nervously.

"Oh well I hate to break it to you...but uhm that's mg seat." She says pointing her finger at my desk.

"I will move." I say putting my book back in my bag.

"Hey! You should at least apologize for being so oblivious! Do you even know who she is?" One of her minions speaks to me. She's wearing a white beanie with yellow knee high socks and white heels.

I look back at the main girl in the middle "Sorry, I don't recognize you. Who are you?"

She scoffs. "Uhm hello? I'm Karina. Doesn't ring a bell? Guess not to low lives. Well just know my dad owns many companies in South Korea so I'm a pretty big deal." She gives me a creepy looking smile.

I nod my head. "Oh nice...well I'll get going now."

"Wow how pathetic are you? You won't even properly introduce yourself?"

I stand up with my bag and look at her. "Sorry I-"

"Leave her alone." A more masculine voice comes from behind the girls. He was tall, muscular and had dark features. Scared me actually.

"Oh my gosh Jungkook, you're defending her?" Winter asks him.

"She's new here give her a break." He looks me up and down.

"Whatever waste of my time anyway." Karina and her minions leave to go find another seat.

I sit back down and put my stuff back out. Ignoring Jungkook.

"A thank you would be polite."

I look up at him. "T- Thanks."

He scoffs and walks off.

—————

After class I grab my bags to head back to my apartment.

Once I get home I immediately start on my homework just to get it out of the way.

I had some ramen for dinner. I'm pretty short on money so cheaper foods is all I can really afford in the meantime.

Hours later and I lay in my bed thinking about jungkook and why he would defend me?

I guess we will never know....

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HII GUYSSS!!!

What do yall think of this first chapter? This is my first wattpad story so I hope you all enjoy it!!! Comments and criticisms are really appreciated. I'm currently planning out the next chapter.

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 10

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: MDNI!! slight dubcon, hate sex (unprotected, dont be silly, wrap ur willy), rough, degrading, no aftercare, mean!joel, possessive!joel, crying after sex, overstim, drunk dom joel, alcohol consumption, cheater cheater pumpkin eater joel, please let me know if i forgot something.

Summary: Thanksgiving at the Millers was supposed to be an easy-going afternoon. Shit goes South very quickly once Joels girlfriend opens her mouth. After the tenseness of the evening, Joel decides its time to set things straight. (3.4k+)

a/n: im so scared. this is the craziest and longest shit i have ever written but i LOVE it. i hope you all love it as much as i do. <3 i welcome any and all feedback, it keeps me writing :3 xoxox

Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 - Masterlist

You walk up to the door and debate on just walking it. You decide against it considering the circumstances. You knock lightly and after a few seconds, Tommy opens the door. “Hey pretty girl.” He says. You notice his eye, swollen and bruised. You give him a “what the fuck happened?” look and open your mouth to actually ask, but he shakes his head no before the words come out. You nod in understanding and head to the kitchen. Sarah is on the couch watching TV, and Joel is out back with the smoker. You set the casserole dish on the island and say hi to Sarah. She waves but is very invested in the latest episode of Hannah Montana. You walk over to the fridge and grab a beer, popping the cap over the sink. You look out the window and your eyes meet Joels. His facial expression and eyes say so much, but nothing at all. You miss looking into them. You smile and wave but he looks back down. You turn around, chuckling. “This afternoon is gonna be fucking great.” you say to yourself, shaking your head and taking a large gulp of your drink. Tommy comes into the kitchen and you stare at his eye. Wondering if that happened once he got home yesterday. Wondering if that happened because of you. “Tommy?” you say quietly. “Hm?” he looks up at you. “What happened?” you say, rubbing his face gently. “Nothing you need to be concerned about sweetheart. I promise Im alright.” he says, smiling. You hear the patio door slide open and quickly remove your hand from Tommys face, you fear what would happen to him if Joel saw. “Don't stop on account of me.” he grunts, staring through you. 

“Foods done. Sarah, set the table. Theres five of us.” “Five?” you say, louder than you mean to. “Did I stutter? Five. You, Tommy, Sarah, Me, and Celeste.” You stomach churns. “Excuse me.” You whisper, tears falling from your eyes. You run to the bathroom, anticipating the churning in your stomach to turn into actual vomit. This time, no one chases you. You hear Sarah setting the table, Tommy helping her, and Joel answering the door. Then you hear her. Celeste. “Hi sweetie! Im Celeste. You must be Sarah. Im a friend of your dads.” she says. You wanted so badly for her voice to be anything but what it was. Its smooth like honey, and her accent is the same as Joel and Tommys. Southern with a touch of twang. You grab a tissue to dab your makeup. Trying to fix the smudging from your obvious crying. Once you feel that you’re as put together as you can be, you exit. Today, Celestes hair is long and straight. Shes wearing a cream cashmere sweater, black leather leggings, and oxblood colored flats. You plaster a smile on your face and walk toward her, you open your mouth to speak but she beats you to it. “Hi, Im Celeste. You must be Tommys new girlfriend.” she spits, her eyes cutting daggers at you. You look at Sarah, who thank god isnt paying attention. “Well, n-” and Tommy interrupts you “Yes! This is her!”. If looks could kill, Joel would have Tommy dead six ways to Sunday. She rolls her eyes, walking away without saying anything else. “Fuckin’ nice one, Joel. Shes a fuckin keeper.” you mutter in his direction. 

 Tommy grabs your hand and leads you to your chair, pulling it out for you. Him and Joel lay the food across the table in various spots. Sarah says the blessing and you begin passing the dishes around. Celeste laughs at just about everything Joel says, and its kind of annoying because half the shit he’s saying isn't even funny. Tommy can see your face growing with annoyance and disgust. His hand grabs your thigh under the table, a thumb going back and forth. 

The rest of dinner goes about as well as it can. Tommys hand occasionally brushing your thigh. You squeeze his a couple times to keep yourself from flipping the goddamn dinner table. Sarah gets up to get her pajamas on, and suitcase packed for the long weekend at her moms. You stand up and begin collecting plates while the boys talk. Celeste holds hers over her shoulder, still laughing at every little thing Joel says. You roll your eyes in Tommys direction and he stifles a laugh. 

Eventually, Sarahs mom arrives and you walk out with everyone to say goodbye. Funny, you notice Celeste doesn't join you all; remembering her scuffle with Sarahs mom. Sarah gives you a big hug around the neck, and whispers in your ear “I don’t like that woman. Don't let my dad keep her here.” She says, her eyes bigger than the sun. You hug her back, telling her to have fun at her moms. Tommy and Joel both give her a kiss on the head and tuck her into the car. You all wave goodbye and head toward the house. You lead, Tommys hand guiding you on your lower back, Joel in the very back, breathing so heavy that if you didn’t know better, you’d think something was wrong. But you know it’s Tommy. He’s pushing him to his breaking point, and his breaking point is you. Once back inside, you pour yourself a glass of wine. You’ve lost count on what number this is. You know you had 3 beers but the wine went down like water during dinner and desert. 

The hours pass and you've played a couple card games, trying not to focus on the way Celeste grabs Joels biceps. The way she allows her head to fall on him when she laughs. You finish your umpteenth glass of wine and excuse yourself. You walk down the hall until you find the spare room. You shut the door and turn the light on, sitting on the bed. Trying not to freak out. You cant read Joel. He used to be so easy to read, his facial expressions like an open book. The creases around his eyes told you how his day was, his eyes told you what he wanted, his lips saying what he needed. But for weeks they’ve given you nothing. The door opening snaps you out of your trance. “If you wanted me again, you could’ve just invited me over.” Tommy says laughing, shutting the door behind him. “Tommy, shut up.” You say, hitting him on the arm. “Hey hey, I already got my ass whooped once in the last 2 days, Id rather it not happen again.” He sits beside you, the bed creaking with every movement. “Tommy,” you start “I thought you said she wasn’t coming.” he sighs. “She wasn’t s’posed to. Joel told me weeks ago that he was breakin’ things off. I guess he never did. I didn’t know. Maria and I broke up and I hadn’t seen her here so I just assumed he’d done it.” You look him in the eyes. “Im sorry about you and Maria. It hadn’t even crossed my mind yesterday.” you look at the ground, your feet swinging from the bed. “Nothin’ you coulda done. She broke it off for some schmuck she met on business in Dallas. Not sure why Celeste is makin’ me out to be the bad guy.” he retorts. You both laugh for a second. Unsure of where to go from here. You don’t want to go back out there, but you don’t want to be alone. The thought of asking Tommy to go home with you pops into your head but after yesterday, thats probably the worst idea you’ve ever had. As if he can read your mind, he stands, reaching for your hand. “M’lady” he says, kissing the back of your hand. You laugh, opening the door “Shut the hell up Tommy”. 

You both walk back down the hall to find Celeste and Joel watching a movie. Shes kissing his neck, and he looks every bit of uninterested. When you kissed his neck, he returned the favor 10 fold. He couldn’t keep his hands off you. You head to the kitchen and her head perks up at the sound of the fridge opening. “It’s about time you came back out” she starts “and what a rude thing to do in someone elses home.” she says, looking you up and down. Now, usually, you’d just let it roll off your back. But after the last 3 weeks, after today, you dont have the patience. “Im not sure what you’re insinuating, but Tommy and I are just friends. We were just talking. Nothing more.” You say, popping the top off another beer. Joel stifles a laugh. “Something you’d like to add, Joel?” you say, waiting for a grunt since thats the only language he seems to speak around you these days. “Nah, nothin to say to you.” he hisses. You laugh. It’s truly comical how hes acting. He gave Tommy a shiner for assumingly fucking you, but she speaks to you like that and he seems to forget how to be a halfway decent human. 

The air in the house is thick with tension, you’re suffocating. You decide this is your last beer, and then you’re going home. You have one foot out the patio door before you hear the words “But what do you expect from someone that sluts around like that?” You see red. You’ve had way too much to drink, but just enough to speak up for yourself. You don’t give either man a chance to say anything, not that you were banking on Joel doing it regardless. Spinning around and shutting her up in her tracks. “I’m not sure who the FUCK you think you are, but you are not going to speak to me, or about me like that.” you scream. She laughs in your face. “Baby I’m just telling it how it is. You can’t honestly expect anything else when you’re homie hopping two brothers” she says laughing. Tommy and Joel both look absolutely mortified. Joel’s mouth opens but you stop him. “Don’t. You obviously haven’t come to my defense the last few weeks, hell you cant even bother to fucking look at me, so I dont want to hear anything from you.” You turn back to Celeste, your entire body shaking, tears on the brink of starting a tsunami from your eyes. “What the fuck are you even talking about?” you take another step toward her. She stands from the couch. “I’m talking about how you can’t decide which Miller brother you’d rather have in your bed. I mean it’s obvious.” she pauses, and then laughs “Is it like split custody? Like do you have Tommy one week, and Joel the next? I mean, obviously not anymore, but how did you think that was going to play out? Did you even-” you drop you beer bottle onto Joel's floor, it shatters upon impact. The floor now littered with cheap ale and glass shards. “Thanks for dinner Joel, but fuck you. And fuck your piece of work girlfriend too.” you hiss, kicking glass out of your way and walking out the door. 

You stumble in your front door, slamming it behind you. You cry, harder than you’ve ever cried before. It’s hard to catch your breath. You feel like your heart has been ripped from your chest, and then stomped on. You call Penny but it goes right to voicemail. Unsure of what to do next, you do nothing. You sit in the dark, and let your sadness swallow you whole. Your tears soak the couch cushion but you’re too sad, and too drunk to care. 

You have no idea what time it is, but wake up to a consistent banging on your front door, along with your phone ringing. You stand up and your head is screaming, pleading for you to lay back down. You pick up your phone first. It’s Joel. “Hello?” “Open your fuckin door.” he says, hanging up right after. You stumble to the door, opening it. He pushes past you, slamming it behind him. He reeks of alcohol. “I don’t know what the hell you thought was going on at dinner, but that shit ends NOW.” You turn the lamp on, rubbing your eyes. “Joel, its late. Why are you here? And what the actual fuck are you-” and his lips are crashing into yours. You push him away from you. “I don’t know what you think this is, but you have a fucking girlfriend. A very hot, girlfriend. A girlfriend that you let speak so rudely to me earlier. A girlfriend that-” and his finger is in front of your mouth, shushing you. “My turn. Understand?” you laugh. “Joel, this isn’t a fucking game. You aren’t allowed to speak to me like that, and honestly, you aren’t allowed to speak to me for the foreseeable future.” His eyes are dark, but not in the warm doe-eyed way. They’re like a bottomless well. They’re full of anger, or sadness, or maybe both. You genuinely cant tell, but it doesn't stop you. “I don’t know what gets you off, but inviting me to Thanksgiving, knowing your fucking girlfriend is going to be there? I mean, honestly. And then to tell her I fucked both you and Tommy? Which never happened might I add. You really need to consider- “I know what I saw, what I heard.” you scoff at him. “What did you see Joel? Please enlighten me.” He takes a step toward you. “I saw my brother fixin’ his goddamn belt in your living room. I saw your bra on the floor. I saw that same disheveled look on your face that you had in my bed.” You sigh, not sure if from exhaustion, frustration, or both. His words are slurring, and you’re becoming increasingly worried. “You want to know what you saw, Joel? You saw me in an emotional and vulnerable place. You saw me after your brother fingered me. No parts entered any others with the exception of his goddamn fingers. You saw me coping with your actions.” your voice cracking. “So out of all people, you go to my fuckin’ brother?” You look at him, your eyes burning, your tear ducts working goddamn overtime. “Your brother came to me. He came to check on me, after you decided to treat me like I was invisible. For weeks, you wouldn’t even look at me. And the one time you did, it was to ask for shampoo for your fucking date.” He looks at you, his face finally showing an emotion other than nothing. You pick up your phone. “Joel, get out. Please.” you finally say. “I don't have the energy to deal with this anymore. To deal with you anymore.” He tilts his head, laughing. 

He slings you over his shoulder, stomping into your room. He kicks his boots off and throws you on the bed. You scurry to turn the light on, unsure of whats coming. The light is on and you turn to look at him. But he isn’t there. He is, but isn’t. His eyes don’t look like him, they aren’t soft and warm like honey in mid-summer. They’re black, his pupils blown so big you question if he’s on something. His body is reeking of desperation, but his actions are scaring you. “Up.” he says, his voice bellowing through your room. You flip your phone open, trying to find Tommy’s name, because Joel is obviously drunk, and you don’t have the patience for him, or drunk him. He grabs your phone from you and drops it off the bed. “I said up.” he says in your ear, nipping your neck in the process. And your body does something funny. You get the butterflies, the good ones; and theres a wet spot in your underwear. You whimper. “There’s my good girl.” he grunts, his eyes still black. You open your mouth to speak, but he covers it with his hand. “No more talkin’”. The next 15 minutes happen so quickly, but so slowly. He rips your shirt off of you, the fabric tearing down the middle. Your pants fly off, underwear going with them. He flips you on your stomach, “All fours, now.” he says. You quickly roll over and arch your back, spreading your legs far enough apart so that he can see your frothing pussy. You quickly realize that no matter how much you hate him right now, you’re also aching for him. You hear his belt come undone, and his pants hit the floor. He slaps your ass, hard. You squeal in both pleasure and pain. “That’s for fuckin’ my brother.” He slaps it again. “And that’s for fuckin’ avoidin’ me the last 3 weeks.” You stifle another squeal, preparing for a 3rd slap. He reaches under you, his thumb circling your clit and his fingers hitting all the right spots inside you. You moan, and it doesn’t take long for your body to twitch. You’re on the verge of coming undone, and he can tell. His pace picks up. “P-p-please Joel. N-n-need you.” you stutter. He laughs, yanking his hand away. Leaving you feeling so fucking empty. You turn your head to him and scream in agony. “Didn’t I say no fuckin talkin?” he says, spit hitting your nose. “For once, this ain't about you. Now turn around, and do what I say.” he says, angrily.

You can feel tears welling in your eyes, confident they’re from how overstimulated you are. He’s leaving bite marks down your back, naming each reason. “This ones for fuckin my brother” and he bites hard for that one. “I told you, I didn’t fuck Tommy. He fucked me.”  you say, immediately realizing your mistake. Another slap to the ass echos through the room. “I said stop fuckin’ talkin’.” His breathing is heavy and rugged. The bites end and theres a second of relief. Of no pain or pleasure, of just pure bliss. You bask in the moment. Trying to come down from the adrenaline rush you’ve been on for the last 12 hours. The silence is ruined by his cock stabbing its way through every inch of you. You scream in agony as he splits you in 2 with no warning. His pace quickening and your release on the horizon. “Did my brother fuck you this good?” his pace quickening “Did he make you scream like this?” he says, not letting up. You’re quick to remember what happened last time you spoke, and choose to ignore the question. You can hear the sound of his balls slapping you, the sound of your juices combining. You moan, gutturally. And he fucking pulls out, completely out. You turn to look at him and he grabs your face “Answer the goddamn question.” he spits. You’re mortified. “No.” you say quietly. He drops your face and throws himself back into you. “Speak up.” he grunts. “N-No J-J-Joel!” You scream. You’re drowning in the ecstasy of the moment, your head barely above water. He lets out a chuckle, saying nothing else. His pace quickens again and your body tenses up. You reach to pleasure yourself, your fingers landing in exactly the right places. “I done told you, this ain't about you.” he says, swatting your hand away. You cry out in agony, begging for your own release. “Please Joel, please let me-” and before you can finish your sentence, he’s flipped you around and his cock is filling your throat. “Im tired of listenin’ to that mouth.” His hands wrapped in your hair, pushing your head down his full length. His pace picks up and you gag. “That mouth is only good enough for my fuckin’ cock.” he moans. Tears are falling from your face, gags escaping your throat. You feel him twitch, and then a warmth in your throat. His pace slows, and he moans.

He pulls out and you wail, tears still falling from your eyes. “Don’t fuckin forget who you belong to.” He turns around and begins putting his pants on, the sound of his belt buckle echoing through your ears. “J-Joel?” you say, with no response. He pulls his shirt over his head and grabs his boots off the floor. “Joel, where are you going?” you say, sitting up, coving yourself with the comforter. He’s halfway down the hall before he turns around, his eyes back to the soft honey brown. “Joel, please.” you squeak out. But he keeps going, and you hear your front door close. You do the only thing that you seem to know how to these days, and cry.

[riddikulusravenclawbelle]

miss possessive

plot - Belle and Rafe are both grappling with feelings they can’t quite name—but somehow, they always find each other when the masks slip. Unfortunately for them, vulnerability doesn’t always come with kindness.

tropes - enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn, and pogue x kook.

wc - 5.1k 😋

warnings - harassment, bullying, and curse words.

final notes - i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i loved writing it--and hate olivia as much as i do lolll. this is part 4 of my ruin me gently series! go read the first three so you're up to date!

The water was scalding hot.

Rafe let it burn.

Steam clung to the mirror like a second skin.

He stood still, letting the heat smack the back of his neck and trail down his spine to the floor.

His head throbbed from yesterday.

Kelce’s teasing.

Belle falling.

Kooks laughing at her.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Last night shouldn’t matter.

She shouldn’t matter.

It was just a beach day. Kooks being Kooks.

And she wasn’t even supposed to be there.

But she was.

With the Pogues, no less.

She probably thought he hadn’t noticed.

But he had.

Every. Damn. Detail.

The way she laughed at something JJ said.

The way she stood close to Sarah.

The flicker of something—sharp, unreadable—in her eyes when she spotted Olivia by his side.

Jealousy?

No.

Maybe.

He was probably making it up, like he always did when it came to Belle.

“What’re you even doing, Cameron?” he muttered.

He punched the shower wall—not hard, just enough to feel something.

Anything besides this.

These feelings.

Because he couldn’t have them.

Didn’t want them.

She’s not yours, he reminded himself. You don’t even want her to be.

Then why the hell was she still under his skin?

Maybe he should just text Olivia.

A distraction.

Something easy.

Anything to stop thinking about Belle Maybank.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

Belle adjusted her polo shirt and smoothed out her tennis skirt before stepping out of the employee bathroom. 11:00 AM.

One more hour, she told herself.

She didn’t hate the job. Being a golf course attendant was kind of fun, actually.

She’d perfected the fake smile, the flirty customer service voice, and the art of stroking Kook egos for fat tips—straight from their daddy’s wallets, no doubt.

Belle was halfway through organizing a basket of golf balls when she heard it.

“Well, if it isn’t the help,” Ruthie said, swinging her golf club with dramatic flair as she strolled up.

Less than an hour, Belle. Just hang on.

She turned, ready to plaster on her customer service smile—the one that usually did the trick.

But it faded the second she saw Olivia beside her.

Both of them were blatantly out of dress code.

Shorts too short, button-downs undone in a way that screamed intentional. They looked ethereal. Disgustingly beautiful.

How could someone so pretty be so ugly inside?

“Hey, Belle,” Olivia chirped, voice sugar-sweet. “Didn’t know you worked Sundays. That’s… dedication.”

She gave Belle a once-over before flashing a polished smile.

“Or desperation,” Ruthie muttered, pretending to inspect her manicure.

Belle forced a tight-lipped smile. “Just doing my job. Do you guys need help with anything golf-related?”

“Nope,” Olivia said, smile never wavering. “We had other plans, but we heard the view was worth it.”

They giggled like it was some private joke.

Don’t bite. Don’t give them the satisfaction.

But her patience was hanging by a thread.

Ruthie stepped closer, her voice low and razor-sharp.

“We saw you at the Boneyard, by the way. Cute that you still hang with JJ and the dirtbags.”

Belle’s jaw clenched. “He’s my brother,” she said flatly, turning back to the basket of golf balls.

“Hey, we’re talking to you!” Ruthie snapped, shoving her hard enough to send her sprawling to the ground.

Belle blinked up at them, heart pounding.

“I’m just glad he’s back to his type,” Olivia added, crouching beside her like some benevolent queen addressing a peasant.

“I know you thought you had a little moment with Rafe, but… he’s mine. He would never go for a Pogue.”

Belle wanted to scream. To punch Olivia—and Ruthie even harder.

But she was at work.

So she swallowed it. Brushed herself off. And kept organizing the damn golf balls.

Luckily, it didn’t take long for her shift to end. She clocked out immediately.

She hopped into JJ’s truck.

“Hey, how was Kook Kingdom today?” JJ joked.

“Fine,” Belle replied flatly, staring straight at the road.

“You, uh, hungry?” JJ asked. He could sense something was off but didn’t want to push.

Belle nodded. “Can we just stop somewhere quiet?”

“F’course,” JJ said.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the gravel parking lot of an old food shack—empty of tourists or Kooks.

The kind of place filled with nostalgia from when the Pogues were kids.

“You good? I can hang if you want,” JJ offered.

“Nah. I’ll text you when I’m done. I just need silence,” she said quietly.

“I understand.”

She slid into a booth—dim, nearly empty. Just how she needed it.

Then she felt it. A shift in the air.

She felt him before she saw him.

“Hey,” Rafe said, standing beside the booth. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Or eaten. “How’re you?”

“Like you care,” she said, picking at her food.

He flinched. But he stayed.

“Belle, I—” he paused, searching the walls for the right words. “Can I sit?”

Belle shrugged.

For a minute, neither of them said a word.

But somehow, everything felt louder.

“I didn’t know you guys were gonna be there,” Rafe confessed.

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, bitter. “You two looked perfect. Even Sarah thinks so.”

She still hadn’t looked up at him.

If he hadn’t given her eye contact before, why should she?

“I didn’t say anything because…” he trailed off. “I didn’t know what to say.”

She swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to say anything. Ignoring me worked just fine.”

“Belle—”

“Don’t.”

Not angry. Not loud.

Just tired.

Silence.

“Did you know your girlfriend visited me at work today?”

She finally looked at him.

“What?”

“Yeah. Gave me this nasty bruise,” she said, gesturing to her knee.

It wasn’t entirely true. But Olivia was guilty by association, right?

“She doesn’t even golf—”

“So she is your girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter to you—”

“It doesn’t.”

Rafe didn’t answer right away. Just stared at her, jaw clenched like he was chewing on a thousand words.

Cherry-picking which ones to say.

“It didn’t mean anything,” he finally said.

“Right,” she chuckled bitterly. “Because everything you do doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s not what I—” he stopped, ran a hand over his face. “I didn’t ask her to do that. I didn’t even know she went.”

“Well, you didn’t stop her. Or Kelce.”

Her voice softened. Like a confession.

“You didn’t even text me back.”

“I meant to—”

She snorted, crossing her arms.

“I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t.”

And she could see it—it was taking everything in him to stay semi-calm.

“You don’t have to say anything, Rafe. You made it pretty clear.”

She brushed past him.

But he caught her wrist—gentler this time, not like before.

“Belle.”

She didn’t turn.

“Let go.”

“I care,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t—but I do.”

That made her pause.

She turned just enough for him to see her eyes—tired, bitter, guarded.

“You’re the most evil person on earth, Rafe Cameron.”

His face twitched. Just for a second.

Then he let go.

Belle didn’t wait for a reply. She straightened her shirt and walked out.

“And the worst part is,” she added, voice shaking now, “I think I still wanted you to prove me wrong.”

She left him standing in the dim light, for once—speechless.

He put his head in his hands.

He could not figure her out.

Back in JJ’s truck, Belle sat quietly, eager to get home and scrub off the sweat and the lingering touch of Rafe Cameron.

It was mostly a silent ride.

The kind of silence only JJ could give—comfortable, safe.

“Whoa. Who gave you that shiner?” he asked, finally noticing her knee.

“Nobody.”

“B—” he warned, side-eyeing her.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Ruthie and that Olivia girl showed up at my work. Pushed me.”

“What?!” JJ’s whole body tensed.

“It’s not a big deal, J,” she muttered.

“It is a big deal,” he said, gripping the wheel tighter. “Next time, you tell me.”

Belle nodded faintly, watching the trees blur past.

“Yeah.”

Silence again—but heavier now.

“You wanna go home or…?”

She hesitated.

“No. Can we just… drive a little longer?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We’ll drive.”

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

Rafe woke up angry. He’s been angry—ever since he heard about Olivia’s stunt at the golf course. He can’t shake the feeling that it’s more than just Ruthie and Olivia—like something deeper is festering.

And now Olivia was on his porch, waiting for him like she always does. Her expensive sunglasses perched on her head, a sweet smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Rafe,” she coos, but the way she says his name makes his skin crawl a little. “You didn’t answer my texts last night. I thought we were having fun?”

He doesn’t feel like having fun.

“I was busy.” he muttered.

He feels like he’s drowning, the weight of everything pressing down on him. Olivia has always been an easy distraction—one that’s never really mattered—but now, with Belle stuck in his head, He’s not sure he can deal with this anymore.

He wants to confront her. 

Olivia tilts her head, watching him with her tongue in her cheek and a look that’s both curious and calculating. “Busy with what?”

“I don’t know, Olivia,” he grits through his teeth, rubbing a hand over his face. “Maybe with my fucking conscience.”

She laughs—a short, breathy sound that grates on his nerves. “Oh, that’s rich. But you know you don’t have to apologize for last night. I’m not the one you need to worry about.”

“I’m not worried about you.” He says, his chest tightening. It feels like it’s about to burst.

“Then what are you worried about?” She rises, stepping closer. “Belle?” Her voice drops at the name drop.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He said, rather as a statement than a question.

“You look like you want to take her clothes off whenever she’s around. I’m not stupid Rafe.” The edge is her voice is as sharp as a knife. “She’s not a lost puppy. She’s a pogue.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t deserve me,” she says, smirking as she turns to leave.

 He almost lets her.

“Olivia.” he says, softer than intended. She turns around.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says, taking a step closer.

Olivia raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Didn’t mean what?”

“Look,” Rafe says, running a hand through his hair again, trying to find the right words. “I don’t need you to make me feel good about myself, okay? I know what I am. But I don’t want to lose you—not right now. I need you.”

“You need me?” She smirks, she loves the idea of being in power. Rafe knew that.

Olivia stares at him for a beat, then smirks, leaning forward just enough to press a kiss to his cheek. “Alright, I’ll stick around. But don’t think for one second I’m just going to wait around while you fix whatever’s broken in your head.”

Rafe watches her walk away, feeling the tension still hanging in the air. He wants to shake it off, but there’s that damn weight again, the pull of something he’s not ready to face. He watches Olivia leave, knowing she’s just another distraction. Another excuse. Another wall between him and the one thing he can’t stop thinking about.

Belle.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

Rafe sat on the hood of Kelce’s Jeep, half a blunt in one hand, a beer bottle in the other—warm and forgotten.

Topper tossed a rock toward the trees. “You gonna tell us what’s crawled up your ass, or do we have to guess?”

Rafe didn’t answer—just stared straight ahead.

Kelce snorted. “Let me guess. Pogue girl trouble? That Belle girl? Heard Ruthie pushed her at the course.”

Rafe froze mid-drag. “Ruthie?” He looked at Kelce.

Kelce nodded, like Rafe was the idiot in this conversation. “Yeah. Ruthie said Belle was mouthing off, so she gave her a little shove. Classic.”

Topper barked a laugh. “Damn. Ruthie’s savage.”

Rafe wasn’t laughing.

Belle said Olivia gave her the bruise.

Why would she lie?

Did she think that’d split him and Olivia up?

Kelce kept grinning, completely oblivious to the storm brewing behind Rafe’s eyes. “Anyway, don’t let some Maybank mess with your head. You’ve got Olivia. She actually gets you.”

Rafe didn’t respond.

But the thing that stuck with him—wasn’t Kelce’s smug smirk or Topper’s laughter echoing behind him.

It was that image of Belle.

On the ground.

Looking up at him like he was the one who’d hurt her.

And now?

Now it all felt like a game.

Fine.

She wanted to lie?

He could play that game too.

Rafe pulled out his phone, already texting Olivia back.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The moon rippled across the lake, its reflection stretching in slow waves. Belle sat with her knees tucked to her chest, a hoodie draped over her jean shorts. Sarah lounged beside her, legs stretched out, toes skimming the water.

“You okay? You’ve been quiet all day.”

Belle wanted to say no.

She wanted to say actually, your brother is the reason.

Instead, she gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Just tired.”

Sarah glanced at her, eyes narrowing slightly. “You gonna tell me what happened at the course?”

Belle exhaled, the memory still sitting heavy on her chest. “It was nothing. Kooks being Kooks. I’m over it.”

Sarah frowned but didn’t press. For a moment, the silence returned—easy, familiar. Then her whole energy shifted.

“Alright. Get up,” Sarah said, already standing.

“What?” Belle blinked, confused.

“We’re going to a party.”

“Do I have to?” Belle groaned.

Sarah nodded firmly, crossing her arms. “Yes. And you’re wearing real clothes this time. No more Maybank boy hoodies.”

Belle rolled her eyes, fighting a battle with a smile she ultimately lost.

She stood anyway.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

The party was at some random Kook’s house—a friend of a friend of Sarah’s. Two stories, string lights, and a fancy pool in the backyard. Just enough “daddy’s money” energy without making Belle feel completely out of place.

Rafe knew exactly what he was doing—letting Olivia hang off his arm like she was a designer accessory. She laughed too loudly at things he didn’t even say, traced circles on his chest with her nails, bit her lip when she looked at him. And he let her.

He needed Belle to see this. Needed her to feel it—like he felt every word she’d said in the dark. Every lie she let slip from her lips like it didn’t matter.

And Belle knew exactly what she was watching. Olivia, in a low-cut sundress, clinging to him like she belonged there. Rafe’s hand low on her back, leaning in when she spoke. Every calculated move he made hit Belle square in the chest—and still, she couldn’t look away.

She just stood there, drink in hand, seething, while Sarah talked to a guy Belle couldn’t remember the name of.

Rafe leaned in again, smiling at something Olivia whispered—then glanced up, just once, to make sure Belle saw.

Oh, she saw.

Belle finally tore her eyes away from the scene. But it was too late. Every emotion she’d tried to bury clawed its way to the surface—jealousy, betrayal, whatever the hell else was mixing in there. It stung.

This? This was worse than the beach.

“Hey, Sarah, let’s get drinks,” she said.

“That’s the spirit!”

Sarah looped her arm through Belle’s, dragging her toward the drink table, past a cluster of laughing Kooks and down the side of the house. Belle tried not to hear Olivia’s high-pitched giggle trailing behind them like smoke.

Rafe leaned against the wall by the bar, jaw tight.

“Dude, you’re brooding like you’re in a CW show,” Kelce said, handing him a drink.

“I’m fine,” Rafe muttered.

“Yeah, super convincing. Especially with that death stare aimed at the girl you’re ‘supposedly’ over.”

Rafe didn’t respond. He hated that she wasn’t looking at him. Hated the way she might be when he wasn’t watching. Hated that he cared at all.

He took a long sip, letting the alcohol burn. Closed his eyes. Leaned his head back against the wall.

“She’s not even talking to any guys,” Kelce added. “Just hanging with your sister like she’s on a mission to chill.”

“Let her,” Rafe said flatly, rolling his eyes. “She made her choice.”

“Right,” Kelce said, following his gaze. “So... you and Liv. Official? Or just vibing?”

Rafe ignored him.

His eyes locked back onto Belle across the patio—just in time to see her laugh. Not at him. Not with him. At something Sarah said.

Something in his chest cracked.

He wanted to be the reason she laughed.

She lied to you, he reminded himself.

Belle leaned over the punch bowl, pouring something questionable into her cup.

“Want me to mix something better?” a voice asked beside her.

She looked up. Some guy she vaguely recognized—nice smile, backwards hat, definitely not a Pogue.

She hesitated, then smiled. “Sure.”

“So... where have I seen you before?”

“I work at the golf course. You’ve probably seen me there.”

Their conversation was easy. Light.

And across the party, Rafe saw it.

Saw the way Belle tilted her head back laughing. Saw how she angled her body toward the guy.

And he snapped.

“Come with me,” he murmured into Olivia’s ear, eyes never leaving Belle. He didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled Olivia toward the hallway.

Belle looked up just in time to see Olivia’s hand slip into Rafe’s.

Sarah followed her gaze and swore. “He’s such a damn idiot.”

Belle’s smile faltered. But she didn’t let it break her. Not yet.

Two can play at that game, Cameron.

Rafe’s grip on Olivia’s wrist was tight enough to make her stumble slightly in her heels as he dragged her down a dim hallway. The bass from the party thumped behind them, muffled now by closed doors and the hum of his own pulse.

He spun to face her, eyes dark. “Why’d you go to the golf course?”

Olivia blinked. “Are we really doing this now?”

“Answer me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ruthie wanted to hit some balls or whatever. I went for the vibes.”

Rafe stared at her, jaw ticking.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t even do anything. Ruthie was the one who got weird. I was just there.”

“She had a bruise,” Rafe said lowly.

“She probably tripped,” Olivia scoffed. “Seriously, Rafe. Who cares? If she can’t handle a few comments, maybe she shouldn’t be working there.”

Then, quieter: “She’s probably just jealous I’m with you. She’s got a crush, you know.”

Her hands slid to his chest.

That should’ve made him feel something. Victory. Power.

But all he felt was that echo in his mind—Belle’s voice in the shack: You’re the most evil person alive, Rafe Cameron.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

“Forget it,” he muttered, stepping back.

Olivia stepped forward instead. “Okay,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his.

He kissed her back.

But it didn’t feel like anything.

Not like her.

Not like Belle.

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

She wasn’t looking for him.

She swore she wasn’t looking for him.

But there he was.

Hand in hand with Olivia, slipping out of one of the back rooms like they hadn’t just emerged from every teenage cliché imaginable. Belle froze mid-sip, plastic cup hovering near her mouth, the taste of flat soda suddenly bitter on her tongue.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Belle muttered under her breath.

They didn’t see her—at least she didn’t think so. Olivia was giggling like she’d won, and Rafe had that same blank expression he always wore when he was trying not to feel something. Which meant he was feeling something.

Belle turned around too fast, bumping into someone—Sarah maybe, she didn’t even care—because she needed air. So, she went to the nearest balcony. So she could get air–away from people.

It was about 5 minutes of fresh air and silence before she heard a voice she came to know all too well.

“How’d I know I’d find you here, Belle.”

“Because I’m a cliché.” She replied sarcastically.

Rafe stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him. The muffled thump of music faded, replaced by the sound of waves in the distance and Belle’s shallow breathing.

His hands were shoved into his pockets, his shoulders tight. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Belle turned her head just enough to glance at him. “Oh? Gonna call your girlfriend to come protect me?”

“She’s not—”

“Don’t. I saw you two leaving a room together. Don’t insult me by pretending.”

Rafe exhaled hard, like he wasn’t expecting this version of her—sharp-edged, already wounded.

“It wasn’t like that,” he muttered.

“You know, I actually thought you were human. Maybe broken and vulnerable inside.” She paused. “Why are you even with her, Rafe?” She looks at him. Her voice cracked, quiet and biting all at once.

She turned around to look at him. Tears formed in her eyes, catching in the light.

Something in his eyes shifted, like the question hit deeper than he wanted to admit.

“She just–it’s easier.”

“And I’m what? Complicated?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “You’re real. That’s the problem.”

Belle blinked, scoffed. “Go back inside, Rafe.”

“I didn’t come out here for her.”

Then Belle turned, wiping a single tear that rolled down her cheek. “Go back to your distraction.”

And Rafe did as she said– walked back into the party, as the music swallowed him whole.

Belle took a deep breath, stepping back into the party. “Belle!” a voice shouted over the bass. It was Sarah, grabbing her hand and tugging her into the crowd. “Come on, you’ve been mopey all night. At least pretend to have fun.”

Belle gave her a weak smile, letting herself be pulled into the pulsing center of the room. The floor vibrated beneath her feet, and for a second, it was easier to focus on the music than on the ache in her chest.

That’s when she saw him—the guy from earlier. The one who’d helped her with the punch. 

He caught her eye again, smirking like he’d been waiting for a second chance. “Hey,” he said, stepping into her space, his hands loose at his sides. “Still look way too cool to be here.”

Belle gave a breathy laugh. “That’s because I am.”

He grinned. “Dance with me?” 

She looked at Rafe and Olivia, their bodies barely leaving any room in between. 

“Yes.” She said as she took his hand. 

And she did. She let him put his hands on her waist. She let herself sway to the beat. She let her head tip back in a laugh, just once, just loud enough that Rafe could hear it across the room.

Because she knew he was watching. She didn’t have to look to feel it.

But she looked anyway.

And there he was—across the dance floor, Olivia draped over him like a scarf, her mouth close to his neck. But his eyes?

They were on her.

Belle’s heart stuttered.

The boy spun her gently, fingers curling around hers. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” she faked a smile, then continued to look at Rafe.

The music intensed and that’s when her heart dropped.

Slowly, deliberately—he leaned down and kissed Olivia.

But his eyes never left Belle.

“You wanna get out of here?” The boy asked,his breath brushing her ear. She bit her lip and nodded, intertwining her hand with his. 

She wasn’t thinking about what came next. She just needed out—of this house, this night, this feeling. She didn’t care where they went. As long as it wasn’t here.

If he gets a distraction, she can have one for the night.

They were halfway to the front door, his hand still in hers, when she heard it.

“Belle.” Not loud, not angry. Just… there. And it stopped her cold.

She turned.

Rafe was standing at the base of the stairs, Olivia nowhere in sight. His expression was unreadable, but his chest rising fast like he’d just run through the crowd.

“Don’t.” he said in a serious tone, eyes fixated on the couple’s hands. “Don’t go with him.”

Belle’s pulse pounded in her ears.

“Why? You’re the only one who gets to ignore his feelings?”

“Just–don't.”

She let out a bitter laugh, but her fingers slipped from the boy’s anyway. The silence between them was loud, full of unsaid things and the weight of every moment they’d let pass by.

The guy raised his hands, awkward. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see you around.”

Belle didn’t answer. Rafe stepped closer. 

Once he was gone, Rafe closed the space between them just enough for her to feel the heat rolling off him.

“You don’t get to do that,” she said quietly, chin tilted up.

“I don’t?” he said, voice low. “Then what the hell was that back there?”

“You kissed her.” Her voice cracked. “While looking at me.”

He didn’t deny it. He didn’t have to.

“I’m so done with your games, Rafe,” she whispered. “Tired of pretending I don’t care when I do.”

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. “And what? You gonna follow it up with another kiss for Olivia? Or maybe take her upstairs again just to prove a point?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t take her upstairs.”

“Oh, so you just stood outside the room with her doing nothing, making it look like you did?” she snapped, voice rising with every syllable. “For what?”

“I was pissed,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Because you lied to me.”

“You say the right things when it’s convenient for you, like When I’m halfway out the door, with a guy I don’t even know the name of. But the second I’m in the same room as you again, I’m just another game piece.” She said, maintaining eye contact, deadpanning him.

“That’s not true.”

“I should punch you right now.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“Tell me how you feel, and I won't leave with him.” She whispered. 

Rafe reached out wordless, but she stepped back.

Belle simply smiled. “Have a great night, Rafe.” Then she walked out like he hadn’t just lost her.

Twenty minutes had passed but Rafe was still frozen, staring at the door as Olivia’s arm was wrapped around his. The air in the room felt suddenly thick, suffocating.

Olivia's voice cut through his thoughts, but it felt hollow. "Rafe, you okay?"

He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. His feet moved before his brain could catch up, cutting through the crowd, pushing through bodies, just to get to the door.

But he stopped at the porch. She was already gone.

Little did he know, Belle was still there. She was just in the hot tub. She knew she couldn’t leave Sarah, so she wore a bathing suit as her underwear–just in case.

“Thank you.” She smiled at him, and he helped her into the tub.

Belle thought it was a casual hangout. They hadn’t been very intimate. Plus, it was just a way to make Rafe jealous. 

Then he moved closer. His hand brushed against her knee, lingering just a second too long. Belle stiffened.

“Hey,” he said softly, his breath warm against her neck. “You’re different from all the other pogue girls, you know that?”

She smiled faintly, trying to keep the mood light, but the words didn’t quite come out right. “Thanks, I guess. But I’m not really looking for anything.”

He laughed, low and almost too smooth. “Yeah me either, just a little fun.”

Before she could respond, he slid closer, his hand resting on her thigh. She pulled away, shaking her head.

“Stop,” she said, voice sharp. “I said I’m not interested.”

His grin faltered for a second before his expression hardened. “You sure about that? You’re all over me one minute, and now you’re just gonna play hard to get?”

Belle’s stomach twisted, a mix of annoyance and discomfort bubbling up. “I’m not playing anything. Just be a normal fucking person and respect it.”

“Aw, I love it when you play hard to get.” He said, reaching for her upper thigh.

“Everything okay here?” Rafe asked, his jaw set, fists clenched at his sides.

Rafe’s tone was low, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. The guy turned around, surprised, as Rafe stepped into the light, eyes locked on him like a predator about to strike.

The guy stood up, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, man, we’re just talking. Not your business anyways–”

Rafe didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. He moved forward, fast, and shoved him back. The guy stumbled, hitting the ground hard.

“Not sure I made myself clear,” Rafe growled, stepping closer. “You stay the hell away from her.”

The guy scrambled to his feet, but Rafe was already swinging, a punch landing squarely in his stomach. He gasped, his hand reaching for Rafe’s arm, but Rafe shoved him again, sending him reeling.

“Get the hell out of here,” Rafe spat, his chest heaving with barely-contained anger.

Belle stood frozen, her heart pounding as she watched the guy scramble away, disappearing into the crowd. Rafe’s gaze didn’t leave him until he was out of sight.

He turned to Belle, his expression softening, but there was still tension in his jaw.

“You alright?” he asked, voice quieter now, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah–just, you didn’t have to do all that.” she paused. She didn’t know if she should be pissed or thankful. “Thanks, though.” 

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, close enough for her to feel the heat of his body. “I didn’t like seeing him touch you.”

Belle swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“I don’t care,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto hers. There was something unspoken between them now—too many words left unsaid, too much tension hanging in the air. “You’re not getting that from anyone else.” His voice was low, rough, and Belle felt her chest tighten at the words.

Then, he just walked away–and returned to the party. Leaving Belle standing there, pissed, confused, thankful, and frankly? Turned on.

[chexxycheol]

Before || 13 Forget-Me-Nots

❀ Seventeen x Reader

title 13 Forget-Me-Nots or 13 Eternal Loves

synopsis You couldn't wait for your 20th birthday to finally reveal the one person you'd spend the rest of your life with. Well the 13 people you'd spend the rest of your life with. Or that story where reader has 13 soulmates, who happen to be idol group seventeen

genre Fluff, Angst, Romance

tags Soulmate!au, Idol! seventeen x Non-idol! reader, OT13 x Reader, Seventeen x Reader.

warnings Anxiety, Mature language, Inconsistent upload schedule, Reader is gender neutral but sometimes certain depictions lean feminine.

⚘ author first time writing here on tumblr, constructive criticism is welcomed and my asks are open for feedback! if this story gets enough interest I'll make a separate post for the taglist. updates will not be consistent or in a timely manner due to my busy work schedule.

this story is a work of fiction and not reality. thank you and enjoy!

—chery

wc 1k

masterlist || next chapter 》

2020

You’ve dreamed of this moment since your Mom told you her and your father's story of how they met, though you wished you didn’t have to wait till you were 20 years old to get your soul mark.

“ Have you gotten anything yet?” Felix's voice came through your computer speaker, he promised to Facetime you on the eve of your birthday so you both could catch up before your soul mark appeared.

You dressed up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants to cover up most of your skin, to stop yourself from constantly checking your body for the tattoo you hoped would appear.

“Do you think I'll get something easy to identify?” you asked with unease. “Do you think I’ll have-” you got cut off by Felix attempting to ease your worries “I’m sure you’ll be okay, squirt. Don’t stress too much, I hate not being able not to hug you when you get worked up like this” 

You glance over at the time on your desk and see it’s 11:58, almost time to see if you have a soulmate, whether they be platonic, romantic, or even both. Soulmates can be platonic or romantic, they each have their identifier, platonic soul marks are one-line tattoos, whereas romantic ones are easily identifiable due to their precision to detail and colors once you meet your soulmate.

“Happy birthday! Come on, let's see if you have anything!” Felix’s voice snapped you out of your daze, you moved your computer facing the mirror behind you and started to take off your jacket, rolling up your shirt sleeves to get a full view of your arms, scanning yourself in the mirror to see if anything appeared. Not even a platonic soul mark appeared which made you frown.

“Lix, I don’t even have a platonic one” you say out loud to him, slowly losing hope you start to pull up your pants legs to check your legs and feet. “Hold on let me check under my shirt” you announce before moving the camera away and start to pull off your shirt, leaving you in just a sports bra in front of your mirror.

All Felix hears is you letting out the biggest gasp before silence “Squirt? Is everything okay? Did you find your mark?” Felix questions worryingly, preparing himself for the worst. “I have a mark, it’s a bouquet of forget-me-nots!” you say with excitement before putting on a cardigan so you’re covered up but can still show Felix. You stare at it from the small mirror on your desk.

“See I told you! You had nothing to worry about” he pauses suddenly before speaking again “Did you say a bouquet of forget-me-nots?! Meaning more than one?!” his voice raising in disbelief. You come back into camera view moving your cardigan to show the left side of your chest with the bouquet of forget-me-nots.

You finally counted, 13 stems with a single forget-me-not on each of the stems.

“There’s 13 of them?! I have 13 soulmates?!” you’re just as speechless as Felix is, knowing his best friend has 13 soulmates, 13 romantic soulmates. Realization now settling in for you, or was it panic?

“I can handle one soulmate, but 13?!” The disbelief in your voice is evident, just as you're about to start rambling out of nerves another voice comes in on Felix’s side of the screen. “Hey Lix, oh hey Y/N!” you hear Chris’s accent come through the speakers yelling in the background, he continues “You get your soul mark? Felix told the rest of the kids and was probably more excited than you” Chris comes into camera view with a smile on his face, and you move your cardigan to show him the bouquet.

“They have 13 romantic soulmates?! That’s insane” Felix says incredulously, you could only sit there in disbelief as Chris congratulates you and wishes you the best of luck but informs Felix that the other members are waiting for him to go to dinner.

“Hey squirt, I'm sorry but I have to go. I don’t want to leave you alone to process this. You know you can text me anytime, love you!” you say your goodbyes before going to bed wondering what chaos is about to ensue in your future.

On the other side of the world in a HYBE practice room, all the members of Seventeen are in their worlds, some are stretching, talking to each other or staff, others on their phones, and the remaining are trying to catch a few extra minutes of sleep.

“Do you think we’ll meet our soulmate soon?” Seungcheol turns to Joshua airing out the question on all their minds, tracing his soulmate mark. Joshua gives a smile, understanding how all of them have been anticipating meeting the missing piece to their chaotic puzzle. “Have faith, Cheol. I’m sure they're out there panicking over the fact they have 13 soulmates” Joshua tries lightening the mood between them. 

“I’m sure they’ll love us all equally and fit in, the universe didn’t make them our soulmate for no reason” Joshua continues “We’ll protect, cherish, and love them just as much as they love us, don’t think too deeply about it” Seungkwan chimes in coming to his side.

“What if they want to remove their soul mark seeing they have 13 soulmates? I only worry about what’s going through their head, and I worry one day we'll all wake up and our marks are gone” Seungcheol begins to ramble all his grievances. 

“Choi Seungcheol, do not think like that if they didn’t want us the soul mark on all of us would’ve disappeared long ago” Seungkwan scolds, unaware today was your 20th birthday. “Let’s hope one day they hear our music and it draws them towards us”

Before anyone could continue to ease Seungcheol's worries, their choreographer began to pull their attention to start rehearsal, their upcoming comeback had been taking a toll on all the members and serving as a good distraction for all of them, to quiet the voice in their head about their shared soulmate. But Seungcheol couldn’t shake the little voice nagging at him, deepening his worries about their soulmate. He’s been putting on a strong front for the members, not wanting to worry them.

But it’s killing him to want that happiness he’s seen others have.

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 11

Chapter Summary: Din and yourself spend some time apart.

Series Rating: Explicit

warnings/tags: heavy angst, some self-deprecating speech (reader), cliffhanger, use of alcohol and being intoxicated, healthy but sad relationship talks, idiots in love, unreliable narration, moff gideon (peep the new header)

a/n: all mistakes are mine because I move too fast-- also thanks again to @immarocketman for letting me use some of their art for my header!! (reader finally knows what Mr. Djarin looks like). I still can 't believe how perfect if fits with the theme of my fic 🥹 and being lucky enough to use it <3)

Just one time it would be nice to wake up next to Din still asleep next to you. The ship is completely empty, not even R5 is here. It’s so quiet, eerily silent as you walk around, exploring rooms you’ve only ever looked at the door of. So many guns and other weapons you hadn’t ever seen before. You play with the darksaber for a while. 

You’re in the hull with more room to move around in. Okay. This is gonna be easy. You press the button with your left thumb and your whole left arm is propelled backwards but you hold on tight and force it back in front of you with a grunt. 

“Fuckin’ knock it off.” You growl at it, and for some reason, the propulsion lessens in the other direction and you’re able to wield it more easily. Not very easy, but easier. You left arm feels weird holding a saber. You don't normally hold anything in this hand unless your right one is helping. You do spin it around a couple times and take a couple slashes through the air with it though. It starts to fight you again like it did before. “Knock it the fuck off, my guy. ” You stare at it and instead of fighting you…it’s purring. “Oh…do you like that? You stupid swamp-rat?”

The handle of the grip starts to vibrate like it’s telling you yes. What the fuck? You turn it off and set it down on the floor. Nope. Not today. Maybe.

Okay, you pick it back up and turn it on and again, your left arm almost get ripped off. You just think about how much you hate the thing in your hand. It purrs again. “No fuckin’ way.” You whisper. “You really do gotta be mean to it.”  

With the lightsaber it was about respect and calmness. This was the opposite of a lightsaber so it’s about anger and chaos. It makes you laugh when your thoughts make the darksaber purr softly like it loves your bad thoughts and wants you to have more of them. You turn the saber off and put it back in the weapons room because you could have easily had more thoughts like that if you had held on to it. Kept working with it. It’s terrifying. 

Then a crazy idea comes to you. You run to the cockpit and press a button. 

With all the sun-shields down in the ship now, and no one can see in even if they try to, you look into your reflection in the helmet. You were told to wait but you don’t think you can. It’s too pretty, and you need to see what it’s like in there. You place it on top of your head as steadily as you can with one hand and then press it down slowly. It’s tight, you have to fight to get it down over your cheeks but once it’s on it fits like a glove. Din’s was way too big, you realize now. This is how a helmet should fit. You wish you could see yourself but it doesn’t matter. The heads-up display you’re looking into looks exactly like Din’s did. You can see fully almost completely around to the back of you. 

Din had explained how his helmet worked to you one night in the darkness of the ship. 

You press an unseen button on the left temple of the helmet and the HUD changes, “Infrared,” you whisper into the modulator. Hearing your own raspy voice through the static in your ears sends a shock through you. Now the display inside shows you an infrared picture of the inside of the ship. The only thing warm in the ship is where the engine is and that is only warm because it’s idling so the ship and you and Din and the child don’t freeze in the night. Din normally turns it off by now. You use your new helmet to go turn the engine off completely. 

Another tap of that hidden button and the screen goes black for a moment and then changes back to just the normal ship. You press the button on the dash now that shuts the engine of the ship off and sigh. 

You press the comms button and rasp his name but get no response. Shit.

Where is he? 

You have a much bigger problem right now.

You’re stuck in your helmet. You cannot lift it off your head with just one hand. It’s too tight. You start to panic, because what if Din comes back before you can figure out how to get it off? What if everyone sees and then The Armorer hates you? Ugh no this cannot be happening. 

“Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit.” Your modulated whisper echoes quietly thorough the ship. You’ve been trying for ten minutes. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” You run around the ship in your helmet and nightgown like a fool. You look like a fool, such a fool. Why didn’t you just wait!? Din could have been here to see it and you could have had him help you get it off and now you’re going to get caught not following the rules. Being a brat. You could cry inside your helmet.

“Okay...” You’re panting. This is the last resort. Nothing else has worked. You have the heel of your left hand and the ball of your right foot inside the underside of the helmet and you’re sitting on the edge of the bed. “Okay. I can do this.” You rasp softly. You push as hard as you can and finally, the helmet slips off your head. You gasp as your hair falls into your face. “Okay. I can take it off.” Very satisfied with yourself. 

It’s dark again now. Dark as shit outside. You almost thought the sun visor was still down after you had put it back up. What the fuck!? Where was Din?! Where the hell was anyone? Not like you had gone to check. You hadn’t left the ship once today. Too sad. Too scared. You lay on the mat on the floor and sigh.

It’s been a thought pressing into your asshole all day. It’s painful and uncomfortable and you’d like it to go away but it persists. You can’t even speak it out into your brain, it's too painful. 

Does Din lie to you?

He clearly has no quarrels eating your candy. Or telling you that you are not maimed when he clearly thought you had been. There were more lies too. You could feel it. He lied about your doodles! He had already seen what was in your notebook when he asked what you were doing! Another lie! Where does it end? When do the lies end and the truth begins with Lyin’ Din Djarin. Would he be capable of lying about loving you? Is he capable of lying to you to touch you? Is that all you're here for? He loves you but apparently you’re just a friend.

Okay. A normal person might die for their friend right? If they cared for them deeply enough? Yes. You guess. Would a friend let their friend stick an Amban Stun Gun in both of their holes at the same time and then let the friend watch through their stupid night vision helmet? Hpmh.

You don’t think so.

Friends also don’t jerk off and come on their friends' bellies or fill them with their seed and tell them they want you to carry their helmeted babies! No! Friend’s don’t do that stuff. 

Fuck. 

So Din lies and now you don’t know if you trust him? Is that what’s happening in that broken, dumb brain? Yes. That’s exactly what’s happening.

You gasp in horror.

Did Din ever even come visit you in the temple like he said he did?

No one ever mentioned him coming to see you, or stopping by-- not Ahsoka or Luke. None of the younglings or other Jedi's!

The reasoning could be that Luke and Ahsoka were trying to keep you levelheaded with a clear mind and un-desiring heart.

Or it could be because that lying metal man never even came to see you like he said he did. How would you ever know without asking the Jedi's outright?

What The Armorer said yesterday in the cockpit rings in your head. Din Djarin hid you away.

That’s exactly what that lying sonofabitch did! Hid you away on the Crest, hid you away on some celibacy planet full of children and Jedi.

Din Djarin didnt' seem very reluctant to watch you walk into your new sexless home while he said goodbye to Grogu.

Old feelings of anger and new ones mix together inside of you. 

Nothing makes sense anymore...you’ve been alone too long. Alone with your thoughts for too long. Maybe. Or maybe this is good? Are you thinking clearly? You don’t know. You just know that one day you trusted Din with your whole life and now you’re questioning everything he’s ever told you.

Perfect. Beautiful.

Ugh. Those words make you feel sick because are you beautiful? You’re definitely not perfect.

You roll over onto your left side and just lay there with your eyes open until you hear the ramp drop down. You’ve had hours to stew in your newfound anger. It’s very justified.

He lies to you and now you don’t know what about. He admitted it himself-- he lies.

Din meets you in the hallway. You point at him with your index finger. Din stops in his tracks and holds the baby out to you. You take a step forward and Din takes a step back. 

“Put the green child down.” You growl at Din.

He just shakes his helmet from side to side dramatically.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Din goes to put the child down, but then snaps back up and holds Grogu in his elbow crook. He shakes his head no at you again.

“I would like to yell at you. Really yell because I don’t think I ever have before. I’m not doing it in front of the baby, so put him down.” You speak more calmly than you thought you would. You thought you would be yelling already.

“I will never put this child down.” Din rasps through the modulator just as calmly.

You press two fingers into the bridge of your nose where there is a small cut and bruise. It hurts but you don’t care.

“You’re–” Din starts then stops suddenly, he tilts his helmet to the side. “Annoyed with me?” 

The words fling you back into the past somehow, just like you flung through the air before you slammed into the rock in that bug-robots room and broke your back; it’s feeling much better now though. You’re sitting around the small fire, looking up at Din and you had no idea what was in store for you yet. He had just asked you the same question, if you were annoyed with him. Your response then was much more pleasant than what you say to him in the present. 

“Annoyed doesn’t even begin to cover it, you lying sonofabitch!" You point at him again. “Full of lies. I wanna know what else you lie to me about, but you know what?” You raise your eyebrows at him.

He shakes his helmet no slowly- almost like he doesn't want to answer you at all.

“I wouldn’t believe you!” Your brain doesn’t feel as foggy or as heavy as it did the other day, but oh man, you are just pissed off and you know why.

A real anger...with roots to it. You genuinely didn’t think Din could or would lie to you. You don’t know why. He was just a good honest man until he admitted he lied.

Told you to lie about the scars on your face. Like you’d lower yourself to his lying standards.

“I don’t lie?” Din sounds confused about where this is coming from. “Are you mad about the orange candies?”

You nod slowly and squint your eyes at him.

“I got you more. I was just on Nevarro.” Din pulls a bag from behind his back. Bigger than the first bag you got.

Sonofabitch. Why? You were just so mad at him, a good mad, a real mad and now he does this? You almost tell him to stop being cute but then you remember that you are mad! And not just about the orange treats.

“It’s not about the candies!” You exclaim.

Din tilts his head again. “You just said that it was about the candies.” He holds the bag out to you like you didn’t just watch him pull a giant sack of neon candy from behind his back. Like he’s a magician who performs at the casino when he’s done with his comedy sets! 

“You lied about my face!” You flick your eyebrows up at him once and point to your mechnosutures.

Din’s head rolls backward and he stares at the ceiling. “Did you want me to say it looked bad? It did. It looked bad. Are you happy? Did that feel nice?” His helmet snaps to you as you take several angry steps towards him.

He takes several steps back but bumps into the table behind him. 

“What else do you lie about, Djarin?” 

Din’s helmet is staring down at you. He has the child in one hand and the bag of candy in the other. 

“I don’t lie.” He sighs listlessly. “Why are you so upset? I thought our—” He looks down at the child in his arms and leans into you. “- talk last night made everything alright?”

“Oh, all the things you said to get me into bed and then also—” You glance at the child and then back to the helmet, “- get you in someplace else!? How very convenient that you had all those nice things to say suddenly. You couldn’t speak them to me before I was upset with you.” You cross your one good arm over your chest and take a step away and look down at the candy. 

Din finally puts the child down now and sets the candy on the table behind him.  “You think I lie? To you?” His helmet cocks to the side. “I don’t lie to you. Tease maybe. Poke fun at sometimes. I don’t lie to you.” 

“You admitted you did. You said it last night yourself. And then I wake up this morning and you’re not here. You didn’t even wake me to say goodbye or tell me where you were going.” You uncross your one arm and Din puts one gloved hand over his pressure point in his shoulder. “I don’t know why I feel these things. I don’t like being left behind. Makes my mind wander. It’s terrible.” 

Din rasps through the modulator, “It’s because you are a brat.”

You stare up at him, blinking.

“If you had left the ship and talked to my clan, been social with them at all, they would have told you where I went. They said you stayed here all day.”

"Well I--" You don't have a good reason for not going outside of the ship all day. Other than feeling sorry for yourself that Din had abandoned you once again. There isn't an excuse why you couldn't have gone to ask the Armorer or anyone else for that matter.

"A perfect opportunity for you to socialize-- potentially accrue friendships that are apparently so important to you, and I am the villain once again?" He sounds irritated with you more than anything now. He walks around you, leaving you to think about his kind gesture alone. "Brat," he mumbles under his breath through the voice modulator as he passes by.

You stay in your spot looking at the candies on the table and getting new scratches on your legs from Grogu who is trying to crawl up them with the razors on the ends of his fingers.

Are you still upset? Do you believe him?

You pick up Grogu and give him a small kiss on the forehead before you put him to bed in his little closet room.

The metal man does nice things, but he does them in such a strange way that it's hard to recognize them for what they are.

Din is on the floor in just his helmet and the blankets. He gasps in mock surprise, “The brat is here to sleep next to the liar?”

The words hurt, but you don't have anything to say because you do feel slightly foolish. All you had wanted to do was meet new people when you first started this gig. Din Djarin gave you a chance to do just that, and you stayed locked inside the ship all day.

“You tried on your helmet?” Din nods to it sitting on your bed.

You nod silently, wondering if he's going to be upset about that, too.

“Did you like it?” He asks apathetically, like he would rather talk about anything else.

“It got stuck. I had to use my foot to get it off.” You hold your right foot out in front of you and point to it with your left hand. “I was stuck for several minutes.” You don’t know why you’re telling him that. You had planned on never telling a single soul you got stuck in that thing.

Din chuckles, "I would have paid good credits to see that."

“Now you’re upset with me?” You ask, taking a step towards him. He shrugs.

Din turns his head to look at you. “I have every right to be upset with you if I want to be," he rasps. T

his makes your stomach flutter. But in a bad way. The worst way. You don’t know if Din has ever been upset with you unless it was for dying for two long minutes in the mines. Shit.

“I come back from helping High Magistrate Karga on Nevarro with my clan. You call me a liar and a sonofabitch .” Din shakes his helmet at you disappointingly. 

Ouch that fucking hurts. Din’s right. You are a brat. 

“I accepted that tract of land on Nevarro for us.” Din brings his hands under his helmet and rests it on them while he looks out of the window. 

Us. 

“You and Grogu?” You sink to your knees now and sit a couple feet behind him.

Din shakes his head still refusing to look at you again. “Brat," he rasps pointedly. “Of course not. I come home to try and tell you the good news and I get accused of lying about loving you before my boots are inside.” Din doesn’t look at you still.

Your heart is shattering in your chest. 

“I’m sorry," you whisper softly. You feel like a fool, as foolish as you felt earlier with your helmet stuck on your head. 

“Of course you are," Din sighs.

What does that mean? Why did he say it like that?

"You had a right to be upset yesterday--but not today. I did kiss you goodbye. I did not want to wake you because you are broken and healing. Was that so wrong of me?” 

No it wasn't, it's actually very sweet and thoughtful of him. Very thoughtful. Fool. You’re a fool and now you think you may be sick, and possibly your heart will come out with the little food you’ve eaten today. You inch yourself closer to him slowly on the floor. Din tilts his helmet a little backwards so you can see his face visor. 

“Are you upset because I said I don’t want you to swear the Creed?” Din respires softly into the modulator. “I wasn’t forbidding it. You are a free person to do as they wish. But why do you want it?” Din is still looking back at you as you inch now closer to him so you are right beside his helmet. 

“So that we can be together.” You whisper.

Din’s helmet stares at you. “Are we not together right now?” Din sounds worried and now you’re confused. 

“I…mean we’re physically together… right here and now. Yes.” You look around the room and back to Din. 

“Why would you have to swear the Creed for us to be together?” Din sounds just as confused as you are.

You blink at him. 

“Do–” The words you say next scare you because you’re afraid it’s going to scare him. “Don’t you have to marry another Mandalorian?” You look away because you are too afraid to see his reaction. You’re sure that when you look back he’s going to be gone. Back in the cave with his clan telling everyone how you’re crazy. Surely. But when you look back Din is sitting up. Yep just like you thought, getting ready to leave. 

“No. Why would you think that?” Din rasps, turning his body towards you.

He is naked under those blankets and you just got a peek when he turned and now you’re not thinking about anything else. You’re just staring at that little trail of hair under his belly button and you can’t even hold back the smirk you have on your face because he is perfect. Actually perfect. Din snaps his fingers at you. It makes you jump and you look up into his helmet. 

“What?” You’re smiling at yourself in his visor and he’s just looking at you. What does he want? You were enjoying yourself. You never get to look. It’s always dark when he’s not in beskar. You’ve seen him very few times without it. “What?” You ask again because he doesn’t say anything. 

“Why would you think that?” He rasps, unentertained with you. You’re confused. What were you guys talking about?

“Think what?” You say before you actually think about it because really, all you want to do is touch him and you have to stop yourself. Your eyes flick back down to his stomach and his little trail of hair and then back up to his helmet and then back down. Din covers himself with the blankets. “Hey, why’d you go and do that?” You look up into his helmet. 

“ Why… would I only be able to marry another Mandalorian?” Din is still covering himself with the blankets when you remember what you were talking about. You still don’t have an answer because you don’t know why you thought that. It…just made sense? You’re staring at yourself in his helmet when he snaps at you again with his fingers. 

“Would you stop doing that!” You exclaim quietly. “I’m not a small animal. You can speak to me!” You tap your index finger on the floor of the ship one time and hold it there between the two of you. Din taps his finger in a similar fashion on the floor next to yours but more times and rapidly as he rasps through the modulator quickly and annoyed. 

“I have been speaking to you! You don’t speak back. Say something—stop staring at me, and I will stop snapping at you.” 

“I don’t know why I make these things up in my head! You not being able to lie. Then you only lying to me. Why must a mandalorian marry within a clan. I was convinced you slept in your beskar for Makers sake! I don’t know. I just do it!” You start tapping your finger on the floor of the ship quickly like him. “I don’t know! Stop snapping your fingers at me!” 

Din does it. He just snaps his ungloved fingers right in your face and as soon as he’s done he crosses his arms over his chest and covers his pressure points with his hands.

You gasp. How dare he snap and then block himself?!

“I’m learning,” Din rasps softly, nodding slowly. “You think you are the only one whose brain tells them false truths?” Din shakes his head at you. “The things I told myself you were doing at that temple without me—I’d come to see you and Ahsoka wouldn’t even let me inside. Luke wouldn’t even answer my questions about you. They just said you were fine. When I asked if you’d like to come with me they said no—”

You gasp louder than you have ever gasped before in your whole life. 

“They did what!?” you almost shout. “They never told me you asked for me. I would have said yes .” You look all around the floor around you, thinking of ways you can hurt Luke and Ahsoka. How could they do that to you? Make that choice for you. Now you not receiving a gift at the temple makes sense. He didn’t think you wanted to come back to him

“Yes, so you’re not the only one who has untrue thoughts in your head. Did I accuse you of being with another, or not caring for me after two years of waiting for you as soon as you got off that return ship? No! I did not!” Din is very annoyed with you. You’ve never heard him talk that fast. 

You are a dumb brat. A real idiot. 

“I figured out the darksaber while you were on Nevarro!” You snap at him because you are unwilling to accept that you are in fact a giant dumb idiot brat. Din called it. You feel stupid. You try to change the subject. It works. 

“You did? You wielded it well in the mines. You wielded it well here on the ship.” Din’s head turns to the window for a moment and then snaps back to you. “We can talk about that later. Admit that you are wrong. Apologize to me. Because what you do is wrong. Accuse me? You say you love me. Love me so much. Yet you can’t speak to me. Can’t ask me simple questions that would ease your beautiful bruised brain. You want to yell at me. You want to call me names. I call you my little one and I get called sonofabitch. So loving . I don’t get a nice name from you.” Din lays back down on his pillows and his raspy sigh breaks your heart. 

You are a hotheaded…stupid…ungrateful brat. You accept it in your heart now. You try to move closer to him but he pulls his arm away. 

“I am upset with you now.” Din rasps. Your heart no longer exists. You reach for him but he pulls away again.

“Can I fix this right now…or should I go…to the cockpit for a while?” You’re not really sure what you’re saying, but maybe he just needs a minute to cool down. 

“Go look at buttons for a while if that’s what you wish to do. I don’t care where you go. I’ll come to you when I’m no longer upset.” 

It’s a struggle to get to your feet. You have been hunched for so long. You finally do though. You grab a blanket off your bed and your helmet and hold the tears back until you get out into the hallway and shut the door. The crying you're doing has no sound. You can’t breathe. It’s not coming to you when you try. This is worse. This is the worst feeling in the whole world because Din had never cast you away like this. He leaves. He walks away. It feels like it takes twenty years to get to the cockpit. Once the door there is shut, you can gasp. All the air in the cockpit is now in your lungs and you think you’re going to explode. 

The button to close the sun shields feels like it fights back against you when you press it. They close and you’re plunged into darkness. The helmet goes on like last time, with a struggle. But then you sit in the co-pilot's chair in the dark. Looking at everything through your night vision. Din still hasn’t seen you in your helmet. He might never want to.

The door to the cockpit opening jolts you almost out of the chair you fell asleep crying in. Your helmet is still on when Din walks in, wearing his black undergarments and his helmet.  Everything is still in night vision and you don’t know what time it is or how long you’ve been asleep. You know you cried for a long time. Din sit’s down in his chair silently after he shuts the door. He doesn’t even look at you. It feels like time has stopped. Somehow being able to see into the void makes the now soft constant static ticking in your ear less comforting. Din just stared forward like a droid. 

“Peli needs some help on Tatooine. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help her out for a while and I think you should go.” Din’s rasp sounds just like it does when you have your helmet off.

You start thinking of arguments of why you should stay and why you need to be here with him. You want to tell him that you’ll share the floor bed on this ship with him forever if that’s what he wanted. 

“Okay.” You don’t say any of those things, because if Din doesn’t want you here, what’s the point of being here? Grogu loves you. You love Grogu but he is not your child. As much as you wish he was, he is Din’s child. Din’s alone. R5 is your child though, whether Din likes it or not. 

“Not for long, two weeks possibly.” Din still hasn’t looked in your direction, you haven’t stopped looking in his direction. Things feel so different right now. “I have things to attend to. I’ll leave this ship and take the N-1.” So he has to come back for you. He can’t just leave you there. “I’ll be taking Grogu though.” 

You just nod in response because you know he can see your helmet nodding at him in his display. Even if he’s not looking in your direction. You think about swearing the Creed. You could just stay here. Walk the Way. This doesn’t feel like the Way though. None of this feels noble or honorable or brave. 

“I’m sorry.” You rasp to him in the dark. He nods in response. Still not looking at you. “I shouldn’t have called you mean things.” You whisper into your modulator. You could keep this thing on forever. If Din never wanted to kiss you again? You’re never taking this helmet off. 

“I’ll drop you at Peli’s in a couple hours. You should rest before we get there. One shoulder or not she’ll put you to work.” Din rasps. You also like this helmet because Din can’t see your tears. 

“Have you rested?” You ask softly. He shakes his head from side to side. “Would you like to come rest with me? It can be quiet and dark.” Din does nothing for a long time and then he stands and opens the door to the cockpit and walks out. You follow him into the bedroom. 

Din has his hands on the side of your helmet and is pulling it off for you. He sets it on your bed you think, it’s dark again. Then you lay down on the mats below your feet and wait for him. When he crawls in next to you can feel that he took his black undershirt off. When he lays down onto your chest and you wrap your hand around his neck and twist his hair in your finger he sighs. It makes you sigh. 

You keep your promise and stay quiet until you hear him snoring softly. You can feel it in his chest when he breathes too. Just a deep rumble. You keep twirling his hair in your fingers taking in this feeling because you wont be with him for two weeks and then who knows if he will want you to be around after that. Bo-Katan has been around more than normal. Maybe she did all this to get in between you two because she was jealous. You don’t know. You don’t seem to know anything. You make up lies. You’re the liar. You lie to yourself. 

Din’s arm suddenly flinches softly and then he tightens it around your waist and pulls you closer into him. 

“I love you. Death cannot part us. Mine forever.” You whisper it down into his ears and hope your words are delivered to him like gifts wrapped in bows as he dreams. If he dreams. Tired Din. Working so hard all the time. Barely rested. Cares for you deeply. Loves you. 

The night passes you and sleep avoids your eyes. Passes them right by and you just lay with your eyes open in the dark. You touched Din all night long. Across his strong, muscular back and you twirled his hair in your fingers until he stirred against your chest. It stays quiet in the ship as his breathing goes from soft rumbly snoring to his regular, soft breaths of air. His hair stays in your fingers until he’s pulling himself away from you. 

“I need you to show me how to use the darksaber.” Din whispers into the dark. You could cry again. No kiss or any sign of affection that he still meant those words he spoke to you so gently the other night. 

“Okay.” It takes everything in you to keep it together while you get dressed in real clothes. You put your boots on. You put your helmet on because you're ashamed of your selfish face and don’t want Din to see your selfish eyes. 

You grab the darksaber and your lightsaber from the weapons room and meet him in the hull. Din watches as you set both handles on the ground in front of him. 

“This one,” You point to the lightsaber with your foot. “You need to be able to control your mind. Have peace and serenity in your heart and mind. You don’t think when you hold the saber. It’s almost like the saber thinks for you. Leads you to what your heart really wants almost. It’s helping you during your fight.” You rasp. You pick it up in your left hand and let the plasma extend. “You love it. You care for your saber like it was an extension of your own arm.” You hold it out in front of you as it hums quietly. Din nods. You sheathe the plasma and clip the lightsaber to your waistband. 

The darksaber feels like one hundred of your lightsabers. 

“You don’t need any of that when it comes to this though.” You respire as you hold the handle of the darksaber out to him. He takes it within his gloved hand and grasps it gently. “You hate to hate it.” Din’s helmet snaps up to yours. Your helmet nods at him. “Turn it on and let all the bad inside of you flow through it. It feels and propels itself against your positivity. Away from your serenity.” Din looks back down at the saber and you take several large steps back as he presses the button. You can see him fighting back against it. 

“Fuck.” Din rasps as he has to wrap his left hand around the grip now, forcing it forward with his body weight. “Shit.” You see his hands slipping from the handle. 

“Din, be mad at it. Think about all the terrible things you could do with it.” You hold your hands at your side. It’s like he didn’t listen to a single word you said. The lightsaber on your belt feels cool in your hands as you unsheathe the plasma again. “C’mon. Think about how terrible it is and lift it over your head. Bring it down onto mine.” You hold your lightsaber up sideways above your head so you can block Din’s attempt to slice into the air. 

Din can’t lift the saber over his head. It’s fighting him too much. 

“Hard.” Din’s rasp is strained like he’s really fighting with it. 

“You’re not being angry enough. Let the saber feed off any anger inside you. The chaos, the bad. Let the saber take it from you.” You try to explain to Din over the buzzing of the sabers in your hands. Din hesitates for a second and then you watch as he brings the darksaber over his head and brings it down onto your plasma blade hard. It vibrates in your hand when he connects. 

You’re full of excitement for Din. It’s short lived as he retracts the white plasma back into the handle and clips it to his belt. 

“Thank you. Good job.” And then he leaves you in the hull and walks to the cockpit. 

Okay. This is terrible. The actual worst feeling in the whole world. 

“Good morning.” Grogu looks up at you through the crack in the door and presses himself into the wall. The helmet must be scaring him. “It’s just me. I just have a helmet on like your Dad.” You open the door completely but Grogu doesn’t move. “Do you not like it?” You show off your helmet to him and he shakes his head. “Why? Is it frightening to you?” The child nods as you bend at the knees to his level. “Don’t be frightened, young foundling. It’s just I. Your caretaker. Your bratty helmeted babysitter.” You whisper down to him through the modulator. 

Grogu hesitantly peels himself away from the wall and takes a step towards you. You extend your arm to him and he scrambles up it and to your shoulder where he inspects his own reflection in the side of your helmet. 

“A very handsome boy.” You rasp to him as you watch him look at himself. “Hey, listen to me.” You pull him down off your shoulder and hold him in the crook of your elbow as you make your way into your bedroom. You set the child down on the metal bedframe you no longer use. You sit down on the ground in front of him. “I have to go help Peli for a while.” Grogu gets so excited but you have to put your hand on one of his shoulders and calm him. “Just me. You’ll stay with your Dad while I’m gone.” Grogu looks up at you with big eyes and it makes your eyes water from behind your HUD. 

Grogu babbles sadly. 

“I know.” You try to hold back a sob. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too.” The tears well in your eyes and your nose burns for a moment while you hold it back. “A lot. I will. I’ll miss you but our friend Peli needs my help and I’m the only one who can do it.” You shrug your shoulders and say the words fast so you can get them out before you have to hold back a sob in front of the child. 

Grogu warbles sound downcast. 

“No, I’m not still mad about the scratches.” More fast spat out words because you’re crying behind the helmet but you don’t want to sound like you're crying. You tilt your helmet to the side when you look down at him now. “I love you very much. I always will. But I need to go for a while. And you ne–need to learn h-how to become a-a-a M-Mandalorian.” You stammer into the modulator. This is hard. “I love you.” You lean down and press the forehead of your helmet to his tiny little green head and sigh. “My good boy.” You whisper into the modulator. 

“What good is she to me with one shoulder and a helmet?” Peli looks at you, and you look back at her through the HUD. “Is she the same one who was here last time?” She leans down and looks at her reflection in the shiny beskar. “What’d ya do to her in the mines of Mand’alor? She mess that face up real bad? It’s ugly under there now? Shame. She was cute.” 

“She has a couple scratches.” Din rasps flatly. “She works hard. Is strong despite the shoulder.” Peli looks you up and down and you watch her through the display. “It’ll be good for her.” 

This makes you roll your eyes under the helmet. He’s not wrong though it’ll be good for your ungrateful ass and maybe you’ll actually learn something this time. What is the most frustrating about all of this is that Din is right. If you had just calmly sat down at the table after greeting him from being gone all day and thanked him for the candy and taken the child from him; you could have talked to him nicely and told him how you felt and he would have comforted you and made you feel reassured.

No. You went in yelling at him with your finger pointed. Calling him a sonofabitch for things you didn’t even know were true. Hurtful accusations that he manipulated you into allowing him to touch you when it was something you had been drawing in your notebook! For several days leading up to the first incident in the Crest! Din’s request was strange but it eventually gave you what you had been wanting so badly. Did it not!? To see the image of his lower stomach and the base of him! He does have a curly patch of dark pubic hair that rents space there! You had forgotten because you never saw that notebook again. 

“Alright. She’s gonna get put to work.” Peli gives you a big missing-one-tooth smile and you nod your head once at her slowly because you can’t smile back. She turns to Din now and sighs, rolling her eyes. “Okay. I’ll give you twenty percent off since she’s workin’ for free. Only ‘cause I gotta go find the part you need for that big honkin’ ship anyway.” 

Wait. Did Din just…trade your services here at Peli’s for discounted work on the ship? Sure seems like it. Who cares, maybe she can teach you something. 

“Two weeks seems like more than twenty percent.” Din rasps make you turn your helmet at him. Now he’s bargaining. Peli points an index finger and then looks at you; she looks back to Din and points her finger at his helmet.

“Fine. Forty but only ‘cause I like the kid.” Peli cradles him in her elbow. “You sure he can’t stay? I’ll throw in an extra ten percent if ya let him.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down quickly at Din but frowns and rocks back on the heels of her foot when Din shakes his helmet from side to side.

“Kids gotta come with me this time.” Din rasps holding one gloved hand out to him. Grogu turns away from him and into Peli’s chest. Din tilts his head to the side because Grogu never does that. The child always goes to Dad Djarin. You gasp quietly enough but it registers in the modulator. Din’s helmet snaps at you and then back to the child. “Grogu, come on. We have to go.” 

Grogu shakes his head from side to side. He said no. You gasp again softly and take a step back in shock. Din’s helmet stays on Grogu but he points back at you with his free hands. 

“Stop making that sound.” Then he holds the hand that had been pointing behind him at you up to Grogu. “Okay, our visit with Peli is over. We need to go.” Din’s not messing around. Grogu pulls his ears into his head tightly and chomps with his little teeth at Din’s gloved hand. 

You make a very audible gasp. Your hand goes to your chest again, in shock, and Peli laughs loudly while Din’s hands fall to his sides. 

“See! Even he wants to stay with Peli!” She laughs again and holds the frowning child out to Din. Grogu is really frowning. His little ears are stiff against his head and his eyebrows are furrowed as Din takes him from Peli. As soon as the child is in Din’s hands he looks back at you, reaching for you with his little arms and now his eyes are sad and his ears are much less stiff. He’s whimpering. “Ohhh. He wants his mommy! Give ‘em to her, Mando! It’s sad!” Peli exclaims, pointing between you and the child now. 

Din turns and holds the child out to you. Grogu doesn’t wait for either of you to be close enough to exchange him, Grogu flings himself to you and wraps himself around your neck as tightly as he can with your helmet now. It knocks you back a couple of stumbled steps but you regain your balance. 

“Oh, it’ll be okay. I’ll see you soon, I promise.” You hold your one good hand up to his back to hold him to you even though you don’t need to, his grip is tight. “You have to go learn things with your dad. I’m going to miss you too.” You pat his back a couple of times. Grogu babbles quietly. He sounds different in your helmet. Raspier. Like Din. Everything rasps. Including you now too. “Shhhh. It’s gonna be alright.” You turn your back and start to walk back towards the ship. 

Din’s close behind you. 

Once inside the not-so-new ship– an X4 Gunship you just learned the name of it three minutes ago when Peli told you–Din never bothered to tell you but you had also never bothered to ask– Grogu would not let go of you. Din had his hand on his little waist and Grogu had his grip dug into your shoulders now. 

“Oohh my May-ker— stop pullin’ him! He’s got his lil’ razors in me again—Grogu! Knock it off!” Your knees buckle at the white hot pain searing into your flesh. “Grogu! Release! Drop it! Let me go!” You plead raspily with the child but he holds tight, whining and whimpering loudly. 

“Grogu. This is not funny.” Din’s modulated voice sounds serious. “I mean it. Let go of the blasted woman! Get your claws out of her!” Din’s not messing around. Grogu does not care. “I’m going to lift and you drop at the same time.” Din’s helmet peers around the side of Grogu’s head. You nod in confirmation because you cannot speak. 

Din lifts the child from off your chest and shoulders and at the same time, you bend your knees and drop to the floor and finally—relief of some sort as his lil’ fuckin’ knives come— get ripped out of your flesh. 

“You are a crikking little snot!” You exclaim from the floor. “You maim my face! You use me as a pin cushion! I am just a girl, Grogu! I feel pain! Just like you do! Oh my Maker! ” You bring one hand to your bad shoulder and sigh. It had just started to not ache dully all the time and he does this!

“I know you are going to miss her. We will only be gone for two or three weeks.” Din rasps. You have to fight everything inside of you telling to question him about this new, extra week he just mentioned for the first time. 

“I will miss you too.” You stand from the floor and pet his ears softly. “Don’t scratch or impale me anymore. I do not like it.” You scold him softly. “I love you dearly. Please be careful.” You press your helmeted forehead to his little green one. “Behave.” You rasp quietly. “Learn to Walk the Way.” You sigh into the modulator. 

“I will be back for you soon. There are just–” Din starts to rasp but you snap your helmet up at him. 

“Things to attend to. I understand.” You wish he would just leave if he’s going to leave you here for a month. “Time away will be good for me.” You lie. You lie to Din Djarin. But you wonder to yourself if it is in fact a lie. Will time with these new thoughts and feelings all alone be good for you? It’s all unknown now. R5 bleeps up at them sadly. You touch the top of his little domed head. 

“I’m glad you’re looking at it that way.” Din is short, turning his helmet to look at the wall now.

Nothing he has said makes you think that he actually wants to come back for you. 

“I’ll be thinking of you.” You rasp quietly, looking down at your feet. 

“And I you. I must go. I’ll send a call if I have time.” Din presses his helmet to yours very gently and very quickly before turning to enter the door that leads to the hangar. 

You waste no time going to Peli and asking what she needs help with. R5 follows you as she leads you to a giant room. Big. So big and so many shelves and a set of rolling stairs that go all the way to the top. 

“I need this—” She holds both her hands up and does a slow spin. “-cleaned and organized. My picker droids don’t do well on the stairs and the Jawas are too small.” 

You look around the room that is about the size of a cathedral. It has multiple shelves throughout and those shelves are covered with things! You don’t even know what most of those things are! 

“The picker droids and the Jawas will help with the organizing part. But you’ll need to clean, give everything a good wipe down. Make sure nothin’s too yucky .” Peli looks at you and nods. “You can be done when the sun goes down. You’ll start after we eat breakfast. I’ll feed you, I guess. But then you’re on your own. Don’t come knocking on my door looking for entertainment when it’s dark. I’ll be asleep.” 

“Okay. Thanks for letting me stay here.” Peli gives you a look of distaste. 

“Well Mando practically begged me, and he’s a friend so…Get to work!” She points at the shelves.

Begged. Begged Peli to let you stay. You don’t blame him, you had been a brat and were still healing so it’s not like you could be much used to him in whatever matters he has to attend to. Mando didn’t tell you. 

The rest of the evening is spent talking to R5. 

“Do you think this is too yucky?” You rasp to the droid; holding up a long cylindrical pipe covered in grease and rust and…hair or fur. The droid backs away, then bloops quickly in response. “Yeah, me too.” You say tossing it in a large bucket Peli had brought in. There are so many things. Old ship parts. New ship parts. Pieces of clothing. Helmets, shoulder pauldrons, shin guards of all kinds. There were podracer pieces! So many things. You organize it all into piles the best you can when Peli comes in and tells you that the work day is over. 

“Know of any good bars around here?” You ask, taking your helmet off for the first time with Peli’s help. 

“Didn’t think you guys could take these off.” She sighed, handing the helmet back to you after you fix your hair. 

“I’m not a Mandalorian. Just got the cool helmet.” You sigh at her and shrug your one good shoulder. 

“I see…” She looks you up and down, noticing the lightsaber on your hip. “Well…with that thing you could probably check out Mos Eisley. Not too far, you can walk. Just lil’ dangerous though. Be careful. I told Din I’d keep my eye out and you’re not going to blow me in for lying by gettin’ hurt more than you already are!” She exclaimed, pointing in the direction of the cantina. 

“What can I get for you?” The bartender smiled at you so sweetly. Even though you probably looked like you could cry and fall off your stool and die. 

“Can I please have a whiskey?” You sigh and set your bag down in your lap. She nods and grabs a bottle from behind her. 

“I have this! It’s a really nice Tevraki whiskey. A great year.” She explains as you nod mindlessly. You don’t care where it’s from or how old it is or who its’ mother could be. You just want to ease the pain in your heart and this is the only way you know how. 

“That’ll be eight credits.” She holds her hand out to you. Picking through your bag for the right amount, you hand them to her but not before stumbling across a loose piece of paper. From your notebook. 

How long has this been in here? You don’t really go through your bag often any more. You don’t need it much. You don’t remember this being in here the last time you looked inside though. When you unfold the wrinkled and soft paper in your hands and see the doodle inside it brings tears to your eyes. It’s a little doodle of the child you had done so so long ago. You don’t doodle much anymore. Lost the need for it very quickly when you stopped being bored all the time. 

You press the old piece of paper to your chest and drink the entire small glass of whiskey in front of you in one big gulp. It burns going down, you almost choke but you force it back, down deep into your belly where it’s still burning you. Is that lava!? Real life hot lava you just drank?! Why do people drink that!? You’ve never had it before, it was just something that you had heard people around you at the casino order! It was ordered so often that you assumed it had to be good and look at you now, assuming more things and now almost throwing up in the cantina. Like a fool. Assuming. Have you learned nothing? Stick to your fruity drinks that glow in the dark or that delicious mandalorian wine. 

“Would you like another?” The bartender notices your empty glass and you nod, too afraid to tell her you did not want another and would like something that glowed. Or tasted like sweet candy. She was already pouring more brown liquid into your glass. You pay her and stare at the shot in front of you. 

Brown. Who wants to drink things that are brown and taste like they came out of the engine of the X4 Gunship! And burn. You hold it in your hand like it might bite you as you bring it to your lips. You drink it so fast and it still burns. The previous drink did absolutely nothing to prepare your body for this one like you had been hoping. 

This time you almost spit it out. You almost reject it—but you make yourself swallow it. You are not going to throw up in this cantina. You are a grown woman and you already are on the verge of a mental breakdown. That would completely send you over the edge. Embarrassing yourself in front of all these people who are looking at you—

Why was everyone in this cantina staring right at you? You do a little look around the room and almost every single set of eyes or one eye or multiple sets of eyes on one face were looking at you. Some of them looked at you in awe, like they could not believe that you were actually sitting in front of them. Some of these faces and eyes looked at you with unease…distaste maybe. You couldn’t tell there were so many eyes your own two eyes were flashing between. 

You wish you had your helmet but you would have had to take it off to drink anyway. The hood of your robe goes up over your face because maybe…they’re just not used to seeing a small dala alone in their bar. Unarmored. Looking broken and fragile. Most of these people in the cantina looked like smugglers! Where had Peli sent you off to?!

“Do you want another?” The bartender was already pouring brown liquid in your glass again before you could respond that yes you did want more in your glass and in your belly because once that nasty brown shit got down there…it was kinda nice. You felt warm all over. Every inch of you was…loose. It was nice to not feel tense and angry and upset. 

You’ve been trying so hard to not think about Din, it’s only day one. You have so many days left of trying not to think about him. And he leaves you with no answers, nothing to know if you should be waiting for him or packing your things to get off the ship when he returns. You don’t know. Again, nothing makes sense and this all just hurts your heart too much. The doodle of Grogu is still pressed tightly to your chest with your right hand as your left takes the drink. You hand the bartender more credits and now…you can go home. 

Back to X4, not home. Your home would be on Nevarro with Din and the two little ones hopefully. Not this forsaken ship! You kick it when you get back to it. You stand right alongside the landing gear and give it a good ole whack with your foot and now that hurts too. Why are you such a fool? You limp into the ship and R5 bleep bloops at you happily. You lay down right on the floor inside the ship's entrance once the ramp is shut. 

“Do you still care for me, tiny droid child?” You turn your head to the droid who is rolling himself into your leg, bleeping over and over again. “I don’t want to get up. I’d like to die here. Honestly.” The droid increases his beeping and his rolling into your leg repeatedly. “Oh stop it. I’m not actually going to. I’m being dramatic. I like being dramatic. I like to complain and bitch and be an asshole to someone I love, apparently.” You exclaim exasperatedly. 

 “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.  Kyr'am Kelir kis'wa mhi.  Pal'vut ratiin. I love you. Death will part us. Mine always.” Din’s voice rings throughout the ship and you sit up so quickly it makes you lightheaded. 

“Din?” You look around but then he speaks again but it’s coming from the same room as you. You look around and it’s coming from R5. “Are you doing that? How are you doing that? Din?” You speak into the droid's dome but Din just keeps repeating it over and over again. It’s a recording. “You recorded us!?” You gasp at the droid who stops playing the recording and starts beeping again wildly and rolling away from you.

It’s a struggle to get to your feet but you stumble after him shouting obscenities at him for recording you like that. You fall asleep on your bed with R5 next to you playing that recording for you as you touch the top of his little head. 

“Do you think he still cares for me in that way?” You whisper to the flashing buttons in the dark.

He doesn’t respond to you this time.

The cantina isn’t too bad. You like whiskey now after your two long weeks. Peli said you did good when you showed her that you had finished that giant room. Your shoulder still hurts but you took the sling off. Now you must wait for Din to return, however long that will be. You feel a gloved hand on your shoulder and your stomach flutters. 

“I was just thinkin–” The glove on your shoulder is not the one of Din Djarin. Who is this strange glove that’s holding your shoulder this way?

“Hello little-loth. Aren’t you just lovely? The stories I hear of you do not do you justice.” A very calm and astute sounding voice from behind you says. It’s unmodulated. You turn and see a tall man with a dark complexion a black mustache and short, almost shaved black hair smiling at you kindly. There are nine storm-troopers standing behind him in all black. You sigh loudly. “I’m Moff Gideon. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” 

“Moff Gideon?” You do not know this man. You’ve never even heard his name. You look back at the bartender but she is nowhere to be seen. It feels like it’s just the eleven of you here in this cantina. 

“Oh…Did Din Djarin not tell you about me?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a seat alongside you at the bar. “He didn’t tell you about how I captured the small green child you cared for so many years ago? Even if it was only for a couple hours.” Moff Gideon is smiling at you, like he knows a secret that you do not and he’s about to tell you. 

“I still care for the child.” You say, turning your nose up at him because who even was he? Obviously Din got the child back. So who cares? “Why are you here? What stories have you heard about me?” You’re curious, that's for sure. What could this man in black want with you? Why is he talking to you?

“Oh, I’ve heard many stories. That you have your own lightsaber made of beskar.” He raises his eyebrows once and smirks. “That is very impressive of a woman of your stature. Especially one without the Force. Or any previous militia training.” He nods his head at you like he really is impressed. “I’ve heard stories of your beauty.” Gideon raises one glove and very tenderly traces the back of three fingers across the scars where your mechnosutures used to be. “Scarred. Still beautiful though. Now I hear you have your own helmet. And that you’ve mastered the darksaber.”  

Panic. You’re not sure why but pure panic fills your body because the only person that knows that is Din you’re pretty sure. Unless he told people. How did Moff Gideon hear of this?

“Not mastered. I think I figured it out though.” You try to stay as calm as you can because if you panic you don’t know what this caped man in armor will do to you. 

“So you know about the anger?” Gideon asks curiously. You nod in response. “Think of what you could do if you hated your opponent.” Your eyes go wide when you do think about it because that has never crossed your mind. You had only thought about the hatred for the thing in your hand. If the lightsaber guided you towards the good things you fought for… what would the darksaber guide you to,with angry, hate filled thoughts of murder and massacre? “Have you ever killed anyone, beautiful little loth-cat? He whispers the last part to you. It makes you shiver.

“No.” You say because you honestly didn’t even kill the bug down in mines. Din did after you passed out. Why is he asking you these questions? What’s it to him?

“Would you like to? I hear you’re very skilled. I could use…what is it that Din Djarin calls you?” He looks to the ceiling and then to his stormtroopers like they would help him. “Oh. I remember now. Hired help.” 

“That was before.” You whisper softly. The words make you want to throw up but that’s exactly what you had been at one time. Help that he hired. And this was so many years ago. He’s just trying to anger you. 

“So what are you to The Mandalorian?” Moff Gideon raises an eyebrow. “Because right now…he’s in the stars with Bo-Katan Kryze. Flying in her ship. Potentially sleeping in her bed—alongside her .” 

You actually feel like you’re going to throw up. It’s been a nagging thought in your brain. He did take the N-1 but there is no place to sleep there. That’s no place to house a child. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, looking away from Gideon now. 

“I know what you could be…to me.” He sounds so pleased with himself. 

“Oh and what is that? More hired help?” You’re annoyed and wished he would go away. 

“You would definitely be helping me with something.”

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The Secretary - 11

Chapter Eleven

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Charlotte was pissed.

She stormed through the backstage area, her jaw clenched so tight it could shatter. She had just been informed that her upcoming match was against Naomi, and—worse—she was not advancing in the Women’s World Championship tournament.

This was bullshit.

She had earned her spot in the tournament. She was Charlotte Flair—the most decorated woman in WWE. And yet, somehow, she was being pushed aside?

For who?

Her mind immediately went to Serena.

Charlotte scoffed. Of course this was happening after her little confrontation with Roman and Naomi.

She had called it.

Serena was getting preferential treatment. Maybe not directly, but the influence was there.

And now? Charlotte was being punished for speaking the truth.

She stormed down the hallway, looking for Adam Pearce. She wasn’t about to let this slide.

If they thought she was just going to accept this?

They had another thing coming.

Charlotte stormed into Adam Pearce’s office without knocking, her presence commanding as ever.

Adam barely looked up from his paperwork, already sighing. “Charlotte, I assume you’re here because you’re upset.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Upset? You’re damn right I’m upset. You’re seriously putting me in a match with Naomi and not advancing me in the Women’s World Championship tournament? Why?”

Adam leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Because, Charlotte, you don’t need it.”

Charlotte’s jaw clenched. “Excuse me?”

Adam met her glare evenly. “You’re Charlotte Flair. You’ve already had your time at the top. This tournament is about giving other women a chance to step up.”

Charlotte folded her arms. “So I’m being punished for being great?”

Adam sighed. “No. You’re just not advancing this time. You’ll get another opportunity.”

Charlotte scoffed. “Oh, so you’re just conveniently making sure Naomi gets the push instead, huh? Funny how that works right after Roman decides to check me.”

Adam’s expression hardened. “That has nothing to do with this.”

Charlotte laughed bitterly. “Right. And I’m supposed to believe that?”

Adam’s patience was clearly running thin. “Look, Charlotte, I don’t make decisions based on backstage drama. The tournament is set, and the choices are final. You’re facing Naomi, and that’s it.”

Charlotte’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She wanted to argue—needed to argue.

But she knew Adam.

And when he made a decision, there was no changing it.

She exhaled sharply, her frustration simmering beneath the surface.

This wasn’t over.

If Naomi thought this was going to be just another match—if she thought she was about to walk away with an easy win—she had another thing coming.

Charlotte turned on her heel and stormed out.

If she couldn’t get what she wanted politically?

She’d just take it physically.

Charlotte wasn’t just going to compete against Naomi.

She was going to send a message.

By the time the match was set for the main event of the night, the tension backstage was thick. Everyone had heard about Roman confronting Charlotte earlier. Everyone knew about the rumors swirling around Serena. And now, Charlotte had the perfect opportunity to prove a point—inside the ring, where no one could stop her.

As Naomi laced up her boots, Serena stood beside her, arms crossed. “You know she’s going to come at you hard, right?”

Naomi smirked. “She better.”

Serena gave her a look. “I’m serious, ‘Mo. She’s pissed.”

Naomi shrugged, adjusting her knee pads. “Good. She should be. Maybe then, she’ll actually give me a challenge.”

Serena sighed. “I hate that you’re like this.”

Naomi laughed, placing a hand on Serena’s shoulder. “Relax, girl. I got this.”

Serena wasn’t entirely convinced, but she knew Naomi could hold her own. And after everything Charlotte had said, after the way she insinuated that Serena didn’t deserve to be here?

A part of her wanted Naomi to shut her up.

Badly.

The Main Event—Naomi vs. Charlotte Flair

From the moment the bell rang, Charlotte was relentless.

She was aggressive, wrestling with a chip on her shoulder, and Naomi felt it. Every chop, every suplex, every hold was delivered with extra force, as if Charlotte was trying to prove something.

But Naomi wasn’t backing down.

She fought back just as hard, matching Charlotte’s intensity with her own agility and resilience.

The crowd was electric, split between the two women.

Then, in the final moments of the match, Naomi ducked a Big Boot from Charlotte and countered with the Rear View, sending Charlotte crashing to the mat.

1… 2… 3!

The bell rang.

Naomi had won.

The crowd erupted, but before Naomi could even celebrate, Charlotte snapped.

She attacked Naomi from behind, shoving her into the corner and laying into her with furious stomps.

The boos rained down, but Charlotte didn’t care.

She grabbed Naomi by the hair, dragging her to the center of the ring. “You don’t deserve this!” she hissed, raising her hand for another strike—

But then—

Roman Reigns’ music hit.

The entire arena exploded.

Charlotte froze as Roman stalked down the ramp, his expression deadly.

Behind him? Jey and Jimmy Uso.

And beside them? Serena.

Charlotte immediately backed off, hands raised as the Bloodline entered the ring.

Naomi slowly pushed herself up, wincing, but she grinned. “You mad, huh?”

Charlotte clenched her jaw, stepping back as Roman advanced, his gaze cold.

“You done?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous.

Charlotte said nothing.

Roman took another step forward, towering over her. “You wanted to prove a point?” He tilted his head. “You just did.”

Charlotte’s eyes flickered to Serena, who stood behind Roman, arms crossed, completely unimpressed.

Roman didn’t move. “Now get out of my ring.”

For the first time all night, Charlotte had no comeback.

She turned and left, her pride wounded, but her fight far from over.

As soon as she was gone, Roman turned to Naomi, offering her a hand.

She took it, grinning up at him. “Took y’all long enough.”

Jimmy chuckled. “We like to make an entrance.”

Serena sighed. “Dramatic asses.”

Roman turned to her then, and for a moment, it was just them.

His eyes softened. “You good?”

Serena nodded. “I will be.”

Because now?

Charlotte Flair knew exactly where she stood.

And Serena?

She wasn’t backing down from anyone.

Charlotte had a point to prove and she ain’t going down without a fight chilee. How we feeling?

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