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shaisuki · 1 day

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WOUNDS FOR ME TO HEAL

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ content warnings body image, talks about insecurities, mentions of past traumas, angst, ooc geto and gojo. i wrote this at five am and i still have not sleep yet.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ notes i'm sorry for the lack of update on this series. I've kind of lost interest in this one since i'm no good in plotting and writing multiple chaps. you can read from how it have gotten boring starting from the previous chapters. i apologize now for the confusion of the plot.

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ taglist: @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433gkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattfimdoinghere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmike @spicana @luvsymai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @aesonsgirl @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunaemoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno@sleighter @haesify @desperadaparasapagmamhal @ichikanu @daytej @0honeylemonade

to break from the past you desperately want to forget, facing them is the only choice you have left to move forward and is forgiveness is easy to be given as it was forgetting.

your fingers reach for the switch. flipping it and the light turns on, illuminating the bathroom where you spent your days staring at the large mirror by the sink. back in the days you avoided mirrors finding your reflection repulsive added by the torture where they forced you to touched yourself. confidence isn't the only qualities you wished you have and maybe thing weren't be this bad. a constant battle to yourself where you always lose.

grabbing the collar of your coat, you slowly removed it, followed by stripping out of your blouse and then your pants until you were left in your undergarments. there in the mirror stood you.

your reflection clear as the daylight and you can see every imperfections that you hated. the words came echoing how the strangers surrounded you holds such sharp tongues about your body when they didn't live on it. the venom in the words stinging your skin like it was a sin to grew with a body you have.

you scan your body with every flaw you can see starting from your face. round and the baby fat since you were born didn't dissolve as you grew up. the cheeks remains the same. you slightly cringe at the pain surfacing. this is where gojo have pinched your cheeks so bad that they started to bruise. he pays no attention to your eyes swelling with tears, too indulged in the feeling of the softness of your cheeks that he can't believe that they were that squishy and the many times where they would grasp it when they force to look in the eyes. geto is cruel when he comes to cup your cheeks in his hands and your jaw also.

then your eyes. the eyes you own where it cried tears. there's nothing bad about them. it just it have seen the hundreds of event in where they defiled you. the degrading actions you have done out of their expenses and you hear nanami's words. “they're kind. the gentlest of eyes i have seen in a person. never to cloud with wrath and kindness is the only thing you could ever see.” you remember him saying that to you. one night when you're in the brink of losing yourself and you lost the hope to move forward. you find his own eyes staring back at you. honey is the color of them and when you look farther it's brown and then this close it's a different shade of color. a sugar caramelizing in a hot pan and the thought of nanami's eyes brought you peace.

you see your lips curving into a smile in the reflection but it turns into a thin line when your eyes move to look at your flabby arms. the slightest of movement and just holding of it moves. you remember a joke to one of your skinny classmates that it is almost the size of their legs while it's true, you thought that they should have never pointed it out since you already knew it and it's not like within seconds it would disappear.

it was with you in a different time of the span of your life and then the biggest insecurity that comes into view is your stomach. it was round with the pooch almost drooping down but it is still big that pokes in tight shirts and where you find him lying down. your palms touch the squishy flesh. you grabbed a handful of it before letting it go. watching it jiggle and you look at it weird. it once carried life and after scrutinizing yourself from head to toe. you never changed and only gained the weight. you laugh at yourself like you heard something stupid. you tried to lost the weight but it's something that won't leave you and you accepted it. long ago where you've decided you want to be a better version for yourself and for the people that surrounds you, especially the two who have been your light.

after your little session with yourself, you made it a habit to do so. to remind what needed to be done and you won't be blinded again by such pretentious acts. part of you wanted to fight but you were weak and you cannot be weak when you want to fight. you set aside the thoughts for tonight, what happened earlier scared you. meeting him early wasn't intended but you did and it scares you. what if you suddenly revert back to the old helpless you. your body can betray you at such times and you needed a mind to remind and you scoff. you act like the wounds and how they scarred you didn't turned your flight or fight mode. there are things that much needed your attention and you're only starting to wrap things up.

after a quick bite, you quickly made your way to your work cubicle. paperwork's are starting to pile and you don't want to be buried underneath by it and you start except there was a huge bouquet of flowers sitting in your desk. an arrangement of deep purple hyacinths and daffodils. there's no note about it but you knew where this is coming from. without a second thought you grabbed the flower arrangement that cost more than what its worth and dunked it into your trash can. you didn't need it. it's a distraction and flowers won't make you forget and forgive. it would cost more than that.

sighing, you rubbed a sore spot in your temple. taking a big breath and exhaling. you settled in your chair. punching the keyboard with the documents needing to be submitted in the later day. glancing at the already wilting flowers rotting in your trash. this isn't going to be easier. they're already moving and sooner or later you're going to meet them. your fears already coming back and you clenched your fists. crumpling the paper you hold.

“satoru~”

a flirtatious voice coming from his fiancee who is seated on his lap. poking him with her acrylic nail in his cheek to get his attention. “you're not spending time with me anymore.” her voice sad and the gloss in her lips sticks upon pouting. gojo almost rolls his eyes but for appearances and to satiate his fiancee's attention from him, he plays along. “sayuri, i am. why are you in my lap then?” he bites his tongue from making it sound sarcastic but his fiancee was oblivious to it and continues her childish whims to to him.

“because i missed you and i want your attention.” her hands creeping up on his thigh and satoru winces from it. he hold her wrist. “laters, baby. i'm expecting company.” he interrupts her advances and it made her annoyed.

“with who?” she asks. batting those eyelashes that made her look like a stupid bitch. “suguru.” her eyes brightened like she received a good news. “then he won't mind.” she says. trying to convince him of staying but gojo isn't convinced in the slightest. sayuri's been desperately clinging to him since college and hasn't left his side ever she knows that they were about to be engaged and now engaged, she's been worst.

“private matters between us and it's not your business.” he doesn't look at her and his sight stays glued to his phone. sayuri smiles at him before kissing his cheeks and then getting up on his lap much to her dismay. she began to slowly walk away and part of her hopes he would call her and ask her to stay. say he don't mind and suguru could go fuck himself if he don't want her staying him but it was a far cry from what she hoped. deep down, she's always second to the bitch that got the best friends head over heels even if they won't show it, especially satoru but what about it, the fat bitch's probably dead and she's the winner. satoru belongs to her and later suguru would be next. the heels click against the cold floors and that's the only thing she hears as she walked away from her fiancé's office and with her thoughts.

his eyes search for something, specifically someone. the one who had been haunting him since that accident. your disappearance were a blow to him and he longs to see you again even a glimpse of you is enough to know you were alive and within in his grasp.

he spots you taking a phone call, papers in your hand as you diligently arranged them while being in a call and it was enough for him. a small smile etched in his face. while in the elevator ride, you didn't change after that. still plump and you look like you've gained more and his hands itched to touch you. feel your body move and hear your voice.

despite busy schedules he took time to meet satoru who was equally busy as him. he's building his own firm with the influence he have it won't take long before it's established and he already have people following him and he was earning from it.

the elevator dings, stepping out. he barely glanced at satoru's secretary. what's the reason to check up on his secretary when he usually frequents the building and is a long time friends with the ceo.

upon entering, he finds satoru in deep thought. “yo, satoru.” he casually calls him and satoru perks up at the sound of his voice. they settled in one of the couches except for where he's seated as the ceo.

“is there a progress, satoru?” he began. since you were in gojo's turf working under him, he let gojo shoot his shot at you and from the looks of it, the answer is disappointing and when this kind of dilemma occurs. patience isn't what satoru's next move. it would be brash and that will definitely spook you for good. suguru chuckles at satoru's silence before sipping from his cup or tea he brewed.

“flowers won't win her, satoru and certainly not those gifts you've been dumping on her desk. bet she'd thrown that out. she's not you fiancee.”

gojo groans at the thing where his fiancee is brought up and the failed attempts of wooing you anonymously. you know it was him but choose to ignore it without hesitation of dumping his gifts and not even showing the faintest of appreciation.

“and what do you propose, suguru?”

they both exchanges gazes and they know what the answer is. they have to meet you, personally.

it's been a year since you've started working here for the company and your supervisor have taken a liking to you. you were more like of her assistant than the other and you kinda felt bad about it since you're eclipsing her job but the other's fine with it means she could slack and you can even workloads now with the same pay check. you didn't complain though and with your supervisor being this attentive you might get the recommendation you needed to rise and it would be a good reference for when you're about to switch jobs.

currently, you were busy preparing the files that were needed for a meeting. the client decided they would like to meet up in a private restaurant. it wasn't a first to you since you've dealt previous appointments similar to this and besides your supervisor was going to be there or is she?

apparently, she have to cancel and let you handle this one since she trusts you she says before running to the upper floor to get her other duties. it was last minute that's why she have to let you go alone and you accepted it without hesitation cause you were just getting over proposals. get them to sign and you're done. it's courtesy to transact faster.

a high-end restaurant is where they have decided and you weren't surprised by it. half of the work force who have the same job as yours and exclusive clients choose to use restaurants like this as a meeting place.

upon arrival, you greeted the host and told the name of the client.

“hi, i have the reservation under mr. kobayashi for three pm.” you politely inform him and the host nods before ushering you to a private room. “mr. kobayashi informed us that he will be running late and you have to wait here.” the host told you and you nod. understanding the situation and this happens occasionally. you thanked him before seating in one of the chairs. you didn't bother to notice the arrangements since your supervisor isn't available at the moment. thus, you began to review the files you were about to show mr. kobayashi.

the doors open and that takes your attention from the files you were checking. your head low and when you raised your head. standing up to greet mr. kobayashi. the words for stuck before you can utter his name.

it wasn't mr. kobayashi, a balding man, whose in his fifties in a suit is what you expected instead it was two of them who have entered. a matching suit and tie but it differs in color. a navy colored suit is what gojo wear and a coal black suit for geto.

“stay where you are, (y/n). we have things to discuss.” suguru started and your legs felt weak. your heart beating rapidly and your hands starts to feel clammy. you want to throw up and just like that, it looks like you were teleported back in that cold room where you lay naked without a voice to speak and the strength to fight back.

after ordering the waiter to come back for a another hour, you feel trapped again with no means of escape. they can easily hold you down and worse, do it again. you have never felt this fear so you distract yourself from taking a sip of water.

they both sat down in their chairs beside you. not too far, not too close but it doesn't ease your nerves. you placed your hand in your thigh, your leg hasn't stopped shaking. a tick that developed, being triggered when you are put in a stress.

satoru places his hand in your shoulder. “don't touch me.” you muster the courage to speak up and he was quick to retract his hand back to its place. a touchy asshole who can't live without any physical contact. he was visibly annoyed and suguru shoots him a look.

“we won't do anything to you, (y/n). we just want answers.” suguru assures you. you take a brief look at him and you take a deep breath.

“answers for what? i'm not obligated to answer the questions you want to ask.” you swallowed thickly. you should have done it a long time ago. talk like this but you would get a spanking for it.

satoru rolls his eyes. you were this feisty since college and he's getting the full brunt of it right now. he's not the same anymore he would tell himself but sometimes he still is. “what happened to you that night?” is the first question he asked you. they know what happened to you that night but it would ease them if the answer comes from you.

you raised a brow at him. tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. you didn't have much memory of it except for when you woke up at a hospital with nanami and haibara at your side.

“i don't know. i just woke up in a hospital. doctors saying i was in coma for two days. might as well be dead.” you say without hesitation and you just want to leave this room.

their expressions is what you cannot make. disbelief? confusion? guilt? you laughed at the last part since when these two felt guilt about what happened to you. they certainly didn't feel guilty when you were crying your eyes out begging them to stop.

“why come working at my company, (y/n)-chan?” gojo was the next to ask you and you want nothing than to wipe that look on his face.

“don't you call me (y/n)-chan. i am not your (y/n)-chan. i needed a job. isn't it that obvious.” you want to scoff at him and you didn't dare make eye contact to the both of them.

“you transferred hospitals and never came back. w—”

“why i didn't came back?” you interrupted geto. oh boy, you were starting to spit venom. “so what? you can fuck me all over again?”

gojo was about to open his mouth again but you beat him to it. “it's not what it is? you didn't mean it? what? you two are changed people now? stop with the excuses and please i want to be excused in this farce of a meeting.”

“you're not resigning.” gojo warns you. “rest assured i'm not going to. i'm not planning to break my contract.” you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. trying to keep your tears at bay.

“(y/n)...” suguru mutters. his hand holding your cheek and you close your eyes. his touch repulsed you but why does your body wanted to be held like this. he comes closer. “we can't change what we did to you but will you allow us to make it up to you?”

you opened your eyes and you met his own and it just reminded you of the misery and the torture they put you through. the same eyes who looks at you like you were trash is now somewhat holding warmth. you glance at gojo and he was also anticipating for your answer.

you inhaled and then exhaled. a stray tear rolling down in your cheek and it pains them to see you hurting from what they have done. they'll do anything in their power to make up for the pain they caused you. say the word and they'll do it. your forgiveness is what they wanted and maybe your affections too but they won't take that chance easily.

your eyes searched for the sincerity in their looks and mostly in their eyes and it was honestly true to their words and you hate yourself for what you are about to answer.

“i'll think about it.”

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #series #jjk angst

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judespoets · 2 days

Note

jude and reader haven’t seen each other in a while, when the see each other again he notices she’s lost a lot of weight quickly unhealthily

worried | jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of: disordered eating, body image struggles and underweight

a/n: this is a bit messy so i hope it’s what u were imagining!

jude and you haven’t seen each other for more than 4 months.

and it was absolute torture.

back when he was at dortmund the way wasn’t that far to england so you saw each other more often. But now with him at madrid, it was hard.

especially with school, you wanted to finish your degree before moving in with jude, just in case, you always said. you wanted to have something in your hand, something to work with, in case something happens between the two of you.

but school was equally as hard, you were drained, not having anyone to help you, your parents moved back to their hometown in italy when you were eighteen and started university.

you felt the weight of your university work pressing down on your shoulders as you sat in your small, dimly lit apartment in England.

Despite the constant ache of missing Jude, you didn't want to burden him with your struggles. You knew how important his career was and didn't want to add to his stress. So, you kept your feelings to yourself, focusing on your studies and trying to manage everything on your own.

The days blurred together in a haze of lectures, assignments, and endless hours in the library. Your friends noticed you growing silent and withdrawal, but you brushed off their concerns with a forced smile and a few words about being busy. You felt like you were barely keeping your head above water, but you were determined not to let anyone see how much you was struggling.

Jude, meanwhile, was busy with his training schedule. He missed you terribly but was unaware of how bad things had gotten for you. He would send you texts and voice messages whenever he had a spare moment, but your responses were often brief and delayed.

You felt the weight of your university work pressing down on your shoulders as you sat in your small, dimly lit apartment in England. Your parents had moved back to Italy when you started university at 18, leaving you alone to navigate this new chapter of your life. The distance between you and your loved ones was becoming unbearable, and the stress of your studies only added to your loneliness.

You had always struggled with taking care of yourself during stressful times, and now was no exception. Your eating habits had become erratic; you often skipped meals, telling yourself you were too busy to eat. The constant bombardment of messages you saw because of girls who want jude, made you feel insecure about your body, and you became fixated on the idea that you needed to be thinner to feel validated, both academically and personally.

Despite the constant ache of missing Jude, you didn't want to burden him with your struggles. You knew how important his career was and didn't want to add to his stress. So, you kept your feelings to herself, focusing on your studies and trying to manage everything on your own.

One evening, after an exhausting day of training, Jude sat down and listened to your last voice message again. There was something in your tone that worried him. It was subdued, almost mechanical. He sent you a text, asking if everything was okay, but received no immediate response.

you, on the other hand, were sitting alone in your apartment, staring blankly at your computer screen. your phone buzzed with Jude's message, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. You felt a wave of guilt and sadness wash over you. You wanted to talk to him, to hear his voice, but the thought of breaking down in front of him was too much to bear.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep, feeling more alone than ever. You knew you needed to reach out to someone, anyone, but your pride and fear held you back. The next morning, you dragged herself out of bed and headed to class, determined to push through another day.

As the weeks went by, your isolation deepened. Your eating habits worsened, and you found yourself constantly comparing your body to the flawless images you saw online. You kept telling yourself that you just needed to get through this semester, that things would get better eventually. But the loneliness and pressure continued to build, a constant weight on your chest.

Jude, sensing something was wrong but unsure of how to help from afar, decided to talk to one of your close friends, Emma. He hoped she could give him some insight into what was going on.

“Hey, Emma. It’s Jude,” he began, feeling a bit awkward. “I’m really worried about (Y/N). She doesn’t seem herself lately. Have you noticed anything?”

Emma sighed, relief flooding through her that someone else shared her concerns. “Yeah, Jude, I have. She’s been really withdrawn and seems overwhelmed. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she insists she’s fine. She doesn’t look well either, she looks sick, even. Maybe she’ll open up to you.”

Jude felt a pang of guilt and worry. He resolved to do whatever he could to support you, even from a distance. He started sending you longer messages, sharing more about his own day and gently encouraging you to talk to him. He also made sure to send little reminders of his love and support, hoping to bridge the gap between them.

Your hadn't responded to Jude's texts for two days, which left him increasingly anxious. Despite his training schedule with Real Madrid in Madrid, thoughts of your well-being consumed him. During breaks in practice, he found it difficult to concentrate, his mind wandering back to you.

Jude knew you struggled with taking care of yourself during stressful times, especially with eating regularly and feeling pressured by academic expectations. He had seen firsthand how you could become overwhelmed, and the silence from your end only heightened his concern.

One evening, after a particularly intense training session, Jude sat in his apartment, staring at his phone. He had sent several messages to you throughout the day, hoping for a response that never came. Each unanswered text gnawed at him, filling him with a sense of dread.

Finally, unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, Jude decided to call you again. The phone rang several times before going to voicemail. His worry deepened. He left a message, trying to sound calm despite the rising panic in his voice. "Hey babe, it's me. Just checking in. I haven't heard from you in a while, and I'm getting a bit worried. Please call me back when you get this."

Minutes turned into hours, and still, there was no response. Jude paced his apartment, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He knew he couldn't just sit and wait any longer.

Jude took a deep breath and dialed your number again. When it went straight to voicemail once more, he made a decision. He grabbed his phone and called the coach, his voice urgent and determined.

"Coach, I need to talk to you," Jude began, his tone serious and focused. "I'm really worried about (Y/N). She hasn't responded to any of my messages for two days, and I can't shake this feeling that something might be wrong. I need to go check on her."

Carlo listened quietly, understanding the gravity of Jude's concern. "Jude, I trust your judgment. If you feel this strongly, go ahead and go. We'll manage here."

With a sense of relief that he was taking action, Jude quickly packed a few essentials, including a small bag with some of your favorite things. He booked a flight for early the next morning, wanting to get to you as soon as possible.

The hours until his departure dragged on, filled with restless anticipation.

Jude couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him, but the thought of finally being able to see you gave him a sense of purpose.

Late into the night, Jude sent one last message to you, letting you know he was coming. "Baby, I'm on my way. Please let me know you're okay," he typed, hoping desperately for a response.

With everything packed and his flight confirmed, Jude finally allowed himself a moment of rest. He closed his eyes, imagining the relief he would feel when he finally saw you again, safe and sound in England.

Jude's flight from Madrid to England felt like an eternity of restless anticipation. The worry for you gnawed at him with every passing minute, intensifying as the plane descended towards London.

His thoughts were consumed by your well-being, imagining various scenarios of what he might find.

As Jude hurried through the airport terminal, he checked his phone compulsively for any message from you, but there was still nothing. Anxiety gripped him tightly as he hailed a taxi to take him to your apartment.

The drive seemed interminable, each passing street reminding him of the distance that had kept you apart during these days.

When Jude finally arrived at your apartment building, he felt a mix of relief and apprehension. He took a deep breath before climbing the stairs to your floor. Standing in front of your door, he hesitated for a moment, gathering his resolve before knocking firmly.

“Jude?" Your voice was tinged with surprise and relief, but Jude's attention was immediately drawn to your appearance. You looked pale and fragile, your once vibrant spirit subdued.

But what struck him the most was how much thinner you had become since the last time you were together.

"Baby..." Jude's voice caught in his throat as he took in your appearance. He pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms trembling slightly as he held you close. "You're so thin," he whispered, his voice filled with concern and sadness.

You buried your face in his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks. "I... I've been struggling," you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "With everything."

Jude gently guided you inside, closing the door behind you. He sat down with you on the couch, never letting go of your hand. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked softly, his heart breaking for you.

You shook your head, your gaze downcast. "I didn't want to bother you," you confessed. "I thought I could handle it on my own."

Jude tilted your chin up gently, meeting your eyes with his own filled with concern. "Love, you're never a bother to me. I care about you more than anything. Please, let me help."

You took a shaky breath, your gaze dropping to your hands. "It's just... everything feels so overwhelming," you admitted in a rush, as if the words were too heavy to hold inside any longer. "The university work, my parents being far away, and... and feeling like I'm not good enough."

Jude's heart ached for you. He knew how hard you had always been on herself, striving for perfection in everything you did. "You are more than good enough, my love," he said gently, squeezing your hand reassuringly. "You're incredible. But you don't have to do everything alone. We can do this together."

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you felt the weight of Jude's support. "I've been... I've been struggling to eat regularly," you admitted quietly, your voice cracking with emotion. "And I've been feeling so insecure about... about everything."

Jude's heart sank as he heard your confession. He gently pulled you closer, holding you as you let out a quiet sob. "I'm so sorry you've been going through this alone," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "But you're not alone anymore. I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."

You clung to him, feeling a mix of relief and fear. Opening up about your struggles had been daunting, but Jude's support gave you a newfound sense of strength. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling with gratitude.

“Baby, i’ll take you to madrid with me. No arguments. You’ll finish uni online and you’ll stop with some of your courses. At least until you’re better.” Jude said firmly but still full of concern, he didn’t know how to act either.

“I will. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” You whispered, cuddling into him further.

“You were never alone, my love. And you never will be. I love you so much.”

#jude bellingham #judespoets #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham headcanons #jude bellingham fluff

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back2bluesidex · 2 days

Text

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 7- Finale (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, smut

Warnings: some explicit smut, Jungkook being immature, a little time leap, a fairy tale ending. NSFW!!!

Word count: 5k+

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: Guys, we have come to the end. ngl, I am emotional and sad and not ready to let them go yet. but it's been more than 10 months since I started this series and it's the right time to end it. Please let me know about your thoughts in the comment section or in my askbox. More notes at the end.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:-

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

There is a lot in Jungkook’s mind.

He has been trying to calm himself down, trying not to think about you and focus on Jiwon but he has been failing terribly.

The person he thinks of (or misses) mostly during all of his waking hours is, you.

He knows he has been a dick to you. He borderline stalked you, invaded your privacy, riled you up and tried to justify his actions even when he should be the last person to do so.

But he couldn’t help it.

He still can’t. Just the thought of you belonging to someone else other than him drives him insane.

Something shifted inside of him after that night. Something shifted so terribly that now he is questioning his life choices.

He is questioning if he really fell out of love with you or not? ‘Cause if that was the case, his blood wouldn’t boil when your special client almost kissed you.

Also, he wouldn’t walk up to your door and start questioning you as if he still has some kind of rights over you.

So, what is it?

Why does being with Jiwon never seem to be as exciting as it was with you? Why does kissing her never ignite that insatiable hunger you could induce with your lips? Why can’t he picture a future with her like he used to daydream with you?

Why?

He misses you! Fuck! He misses you!

His eyes crave for your one sight, his skin wants your touch, his ears are dying to hear you call his name once.

He doesn’t realize when he starts crying silently.

He takes a hold of his phone and opens the gallery. Scrolling through the application he looks for the evidence of your once in-bloom relationship.

But he finds none.

There is not a single photo.

No photos from Jimin’s show two years ago, no photos from the last picnic of you two, no photos from the jeju trip, no photos with your parents. Not a single one.

He frowns at that.

He very certainly didn’t delete a single file. Then where are those memories?

“Kook, can you drop me off at the set?” Jiwon speaks from behind the couch.

He doesn’t pay attention at first, his fingers work vehemently scrolling up and down on the device.

“Kook!” she almost screams now.

“What?” Jungkook screams back.

“What are you so busy with that you can’t even hear me out?”

“My photos-” Jungkook starts speaking but he stops immediately.

He never locked his personal phone with a password or whatever, so it remains accessible to almost everyone. Given the fact that he mostly uses his work phone, this particular device stays at home, unlocked.

“Did you.. Did you go through my phone?” he asks finally.

Suspicion takes over his mind when Jiwon doesn’t say anything for several seconds.

“I asked you something, Jiwon.”

“Why? Is there something wrong?” Jiwon raises one of her eyebrows.

“You know exactly what’s wrong, don’t you?”

“I don’t think we should be having this conversation now-” “Why did you delete her photos? Who the fuck gave you the right to?”

Jungkook yells at the top of his lungs, taking Jiwon by surprise.

“What do you mean I don’t have the right? I am your girlfriend and she is your past, Jungkook! You’re supposed to let her go! Why are you still looking at her pictures?” Jiwon screams back, by the time her sentence ends, she is crying.

“Because I love her. Yes! Yes, I still love her.” Jungkook yells as if he is realizing the words himself and not just telling Jiwon for the sake of it. The realization hits him like a truck.

“What? What are you-”

“I thought I liked you, Jiwon. But it was an illusion. It has always been her. I never felt for you as intensely as I felt for her.. I feel for her. I- I’m sorry. This is so fucked up! I am sorry to both of you. I misjudged my feelings and now-”

“Stop it! Stop it! I can’t hear it anymore. Let’s take a break, Jungkook. Let’s take a few days away from each other. It will be fine. It will be fine.”

Before Jungkook could reply to her, Jiwon runs out of the door.

He knows he is the main culprit here. He hurt you both. But he also knows nothing can be fine anymore. Not at least between him and Jiwon.

About you though, he can beg you until you take him back.

You still love him after all. Don’t you?

Jungkook feels nauseated as the scene unfolds right in front of him.

He has come to beg you. He has come to tell you that he would do anything for you to take him back, he even lied for you to open the door. He did all of these only to have you turn your back at him.

You tell him it’s too late but he is adamant. He silently promises himself that he will win you back but just then his eyes fall on the purple bruises littered all around your throat.

You look like someone has been kissing you breathless.

His heart drops at the thought. But he consoles himself, tells himself that you still love him and only him.

But his fears take shape when a male voice speaks from the dining place of your once shared apartment, “Didn’t you hear what she said? She asked you to leave, Mr. Jeon.”

Jungkook’s blood starts boiling when he sees it’s the guy from the other day. Your special client.

So you are most definitely sleeping with him.

“And who are you to come between us?” he grits through his teeth. Everything he sees is red.

“I am her boyfriend.” the man replies as he comes to stand between Jungkook and you.

Jungkook chuckles evilly, “No. You are just a rebound she is using to get over me.”

Jungkook expected the man to retort, to have a crack in his confidence but he only smirks, “I think you are confusing reality with your fantasy, Mr. Jeon.”

The older guy gives him a flashing smile and continues, “you know her better than me. Do you really think she will be using someone for her own needs and benefits?”

Jungkook’s heart breaks further.

He knows you are definitely not a hypocrite. He knows if this guy is in your house, calling himself your boyfriend then he is your boyfriend.

But he is determined to fight until he can’t anymore.

He will be fighting until he wins you back.

He diverts his attention to you again, “Y/N please-”

“Jungkook.. Now is not the right time. Let’s talk. Let’s talk things out but not now. I will text you the time and place. Please leave now. Please do as I say for once.” you cut him off.

Your calm voice calms him down as well. And he decides to listen to you.

“You promise to meet me?”

“I promise.”

You cover your face with your hands as soon as the door closes behind you.

You are ashamed, so terribly ashamed of whatever happened that it’s tough to even look at Hoseok.

He doesn’t deserve this, neither do you.

“I’m sorry. I- I’m so fucking sorry, Hoseok.” you mumble inside your palms.

Hoseok’s strong arms wrap around you and pull you into a hug.

“It’s okay, Y/N. It's not your fault.” Hoseok speaks into your ear with his soft and comforting voice. Stroking your hair with one hand, he pats on your back with another.

You’re incredibly grateful that you found this man and he likes you as much as you like him.

If your life had driven Jungkook away to make space for Hoseok, then you would be incredibly happy with the sacrifices you made.

“You don’t mind me seeing him, right?” you speak into Hoseok’s shoulder.

“No. Not at all. As long as you come back to me… I will be fine.”

“You can be assured about that. I will always come back to you no matter what.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself a little at the turn of events.

Almost two months ago you were sitting at the same restaurant, in the same cabin, at the same spot. You were waiting for the same person but the reason was completely different.

That day you were all nervous and fidgety. You knew you were aiming at a blind spot and your efforts might be nullified but you were determined to try.

You were even ready to beg Jungkook if that means he would stay beside you, with you.

And today, the situation has taken a wild turn.

You are here to hear him out and today he might become the one to beg you to take him back. Your ego soars high but you know how to keep that in check.

Jungkook is, as usual, late.

When he finally arrives, he apologizes a ton of times, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. The traffic was so bad today.”

“It’s okay. But I don’t have much time, so can you please tell me why you have been pulling all those stunts lately?” you start the conversation. Even though you are very worked up, you try to keep your voice neutral.

“I- I am sorry, Y/N. I am actually ashamed. I know I shouldn’t have barged into your house like that or question you about your life. But I couldn’t- I couldn’t stop myself. At first I told myself that I am just concerned for you. But later I realized I have been deceiving myself. I have deceived myself for that every second I thought I didn’t love you anymore or I loved someone else. That’s not true. I- I still love you. I love you so damn much.” By the time Jungkook completes, his eyes turn glassy.

The anger you have felt prior to this moment, vanishes into thin air. Now you feel bad for him. You really do.

You nod, “I understand. It’s common for us to misjudge our feelings on several occasions but” inhaling a sharp breath you continue, “what’s done can’t be undone.”

Jungkook leaves his seat and walks around the table to reach where you are sitting and then he is sinking down on his knees, “Y/N please. Please give me another chance. I- I will make things right.” he grabs your hands with his huge ones. Big fat trails of tears roll down his cheeks.

The scene breaks your heart even further.

You break his hold on your hands and hold him by his shoulders, hoisting him up on his feet.

“Jungkook, there is no point in doing this. You know I have moved on.”

“But- but you still love me. Don’t you? Tell me honestly, Y/N. don’t you still love me?”

“A part of me will always be loving you, Jungkook. You have given me so much after all.” you give him a small smile, “but I have left that part behind. And now, I’m afraid, I’m in love with someone else." Just the thought of Hoseok puts your mind at ease.

“Y/N- that guy has a kid!”

You chuckle at his complaint, “and how does that make him less deserving of love?”

“He is a good human being, Jungkook, and he loves me just as much. That’s more than enough for me. I was never very demanding in the first place, you know that.”

Jungkook doesn’t seem to understand just yet, “One last chance, please?”

You exhale loudly now. Diverting your eyes from him you murmur, “I love Hoseok, Kook. I really do. Please let me go now. Please?”

Jungkook burst into tears upon hearing your verdict. You step closer to his body and hold him close to you. You pat on his back to calm him down.

As a few seconds pass, he seems to stabilize himself.

“But I won’t be giving up on you. I will wait. I will wait for you to take me back.” Jungkook states with a weird determination.

You don’t say anything but nod a little.

If Hoseok says he is completely comfortable with the idea of you meeting Jungkook alone, then it will be a lie.

Because he is very much afraid of what may come out of this meeting.

What if you decide to give the guy another chance?

Hoseok trusts you with the entirety of his heart but sometimes fears are greater than the trust itself.

This is the fifth time he takes a look at his watch. The meeting is still an hour away and the drive from the restaurant to the school is only fifteen to twenty minutes, so if you come out now, he will have enough time to understand what has been your decision.

Just when he is about to peek at his watch another time, the restaurant door slides open and you walk out.

You give him one of your iconic blinding smiles while running towards him to fall back into his arms.

Hoseok is now relieved.

Because the way you smiled at him, the way you ran to his arms and the way you are placing a kiss on his lips now, tells him that he has nothing to worry about.

That he has you all to himself now.

He kisses you back with urgency, as if to confirm that you are really here in front of him.

“You okay?” Hoseok asked once you are on your feet properly.

“Umm.. I was fine. But now that I get to see this handsome face of my boyfriend, I feel even better.” you flirt shamelessly.

God! How can you be this addictive?

The tip of Hoseok’s ear turn red. He smiles a little sheepishly. He can’t remember the last time he felt this giddy around a woman.

He squeezes your sides, lips almost find yours to capture in another kiss but a voice interrupted the affectionate moment.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” The question is directed at him. When Hoseok looks for the source of voice, he finds your ex, Jeon Jungkook, standing right behind you.

He leaves your side, you turn around to face the younger man.

“Jung-”

“Sure” Hoseok cuts you off.

If Jungkook has something to say, he would make sure to share a piece of his mind as well.

Hoseok non-verbally asks you to sit in the car while he figures out what in the world Jungkook would say to him.

Once you are inside the car Jungkook starts speaking, “Just so you know, I won’t give up. I will always be here for her if she decides to come back to me.”

Hoseok smiles at that “that won’t be necessary, I believe.”

Jungkook fixes him with a glare, “I don’t know how things escalated between you and her but she-” he pauses at first and then diverts his eyes from Hoseok’s face, looks towards the car, “she is in love with you.”

“The feelings are mutual.” Hoseok replies, keeping his calm demeanor.

“Just don’t fuck things up like I did. Don’t hurt her like I-” he doesn’t continue.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“What did you two talk about?” you seem to be genuinely curious about what your ex boyfriend had to say to your recent boyfriend.

“You don’t need to know that, sweety.” teases Hoseok.

You huff at his reply.

In the span of your short relationship one thing Hoseok got to know about you is that you are incredibly cute when teased and he takes advantage of that knowledge whenever there is an opportunity.

“Okay but just tell me if he cursed you or something like that?” Now he knows that you are worried.

“Not a chance, Y/N. He wouldn’t get away doing that, I am an attorney, remember?” he gives you one of those smiles that he knows you love way too much to admit.

You nod.

“You need to boast about your profession for this upcoming meeting a lot.” you say after a moment of silence.

“I know” Hoseok’s voice turns serious, “but I don’t know if I can do this or not, Y/N. I might just lose my cool.”

You rest your left hand on his right one. Squeezing the same a little you reply, “I am here with you, Hoseok. I will handle it if things go out of hand, even though I don’t think that'll be the case.”

Hoseok’s mind sets itself on ease. If you are with him, he can do this. If you are with him, he can do anything.

“So.. you want me to believe that my son has been bullying your daughter?” The pitch of Jaemin’s mother’s voice is unnecessarily high and it hurts Hoseok’s ears. But he tries to calm himself down while focusing on your touch where you are holding his hand under the table.

“Yes.” hoseok voices.

“Do you have any proof?” the woman cocks one of her eyebrows.

“I am the proof myself, Mrs. Park. Being Sua’s therapist, I have gotten the chance to talk to her. Or rather I would say, I have made her talk to me as the child was way too afraid to share anything. And I assure you, your son has been bullying Jung Sua by outcasting her, calling her names that probably he doesn’t even know the meaning of, locking her in dark rooms and by damaging her relationship with her father. All apparently because she doesn’t have a mother.” you complete with a professional tone, something that the other woman can’t dare to defy.

“B-but he is just seven years old-”

“That’s exactly my point, Mrs. Park. Given the fact that Jaemin is only seven years old, there is no way he knows what illegitimate is. He must have heard it from someone. Someone he could easily pick it up from.” you lean a little towards the table, narrowing your eyes on the woman.

“What? What are you trying to say? Are you blaming me? That I have bad-mouthed Sua or something?” Jaemin’s mother screams at the top of her lungs.

“Ma’am please, don’t shout.” the homeroom teacher rushes to stop the woman from yelling.

“Yeobo! Stop it.” Jaemin’s father tries to do the same.

He has been quiet from the start and from the looks of it, you can tell that the man is wiser than his wife. He probably understands what you and Hoseok are trying to convey.

“We have not said anything explicitly. But you are getting worked up anyway, which suggests you are the one he picked it up from. If that’s the case then… just so you know that I can sue you for defaming my family and indirectly torturing my daughter.” Hoseok states flatly, even though his insides are burning already.

“No. no, Mr. Jung. I am sorry for what has happened. I know my apologies are not enough and these can never undo the mental trauma that my son has caused to your daughter but I promise I will move him to a different school. Just please don’t drag us into anything legal. Please.” the man, who is clearly the oldest in the room, practically pleads Hoseok.

Hoseok feels a little uneasy but then you squeeze his hand again, giving him a sign to settle the matter here.

“I am okay with the proposition.” he lets everyone know.

“Okay. This is settled then.” the homeroom teacher huffs out of relief.

“We are all good now.” you say as the two of you are outside of the school.

“Thank-”

“Shut it, Hoseok. Thank me one more time and I will run away.” you whine angrily, a little pout graces your pretty lips. Hoseok wants to kiss it again and again.

He laughs instead.

“Okay okay fine. Let’s go home.” he pulls you closer to his body by holding onto your forearms.

“Sua is away on a Gwangju trip, right?” you seem to recall it finally.

“Oh yeah. We can have our own trip tonight, baby.” Hoseok replies, licking on his bottom lips. His eyes drop on the narrow opening of your dress shirt.

“What trip?” you smirk.

“Sex trip.” he whispers, squeezing on your waist.

“Oh my god! Ho-Hoseok!” you groan seductively as Hoseok pounds on you as roughly as possible.

He spreacds your asscheeks with both of his hands to take a look at the spot where his cock is disappearing into your hole.

“Fuck baby! You are taking me so good. Your little cunt is swallowing my cunt so well, baby.” he praises, you moan as a reply.

Two of his fingers chase your clit to draw slow, torturing circles.

“God! You are swollen!” he bemoans when his fingers come in contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Guess who ate me out minutes ago? As if it was his last meal?” you manage to say in between your ragged breaths.

“Can’t help when you taste so good!” His reply is accompanied with a harsh thrust.

“Hoseok. -seok ah, I’m clo-” and even before you could complete your sentence, you cum.

The sight of you on all fours, drenching his cock while moaning his name, makes the tension in his lower stomach unbearable.

So he releases inside the condom embarrassingly early.

You fall on your face on his mattress, he falls on top of you.

“Let me run you a bath, hm?” he says in your hair. You nod.

“Y/N” Hoseok calls your name as he strokes your hair softly.

“Hm?” you mumble in his chest.

“I am thinking of telling Sua once she comes back from Gwangju. What do you say?”

Your heart races at the thought. Honestly, you have been pondering on the topic for the past few days. You totally understand if Hoseok doesn't want to tell her anything just yet. But you also wondered what if she rejects you, unapproves you just as she did with Mina.

“We should tell her. But-” you let your voice fade.

“But?”

You pull your face away from Hoseok’s chest and look into his eyes, “what if she doesn’t-”

“I love you. I will be loving you, nothing can change that. And if she doesn’t approve of us together, I will try my best to change her mind.” He gives you a smile.

You return the gesture and you find solace in his chest again.

“Oh I always knew.” Sua is more focused on the cookies you baked her than the conversation, which is indeed very serious.

“You knew what?” you try to coax the answer out of her. Her father is sitting still with his mouth open ajar.

“I knew that daddy likes you. And that you like daddy." She bites on the cookie.

“How did you know it, Sua?” your eyes open much wider than you have ever had them opened.

“He doesn’t take anyone to the bakery, you know. Not even emo and halmoni. And the way he panicked when I talked about Mina aunty.” the kid giggles.

Apparently, a seven year old caught on to the feelings of two adults. You two have been that obvious all these time.

“So… you are okay with Y/N?” Hoseok asks. It is as lf he is asking permission from his parents, which in this case might have been less nerve wrecking.

“Ummm yeah. I like her and I always wanted a mommy.” Sua smiles at you. Her eyes crinkle.

Is this what true validation feels like?

Not what your partner thinks about how your dress or makeup looks or how well you have been taking care of your skin, but a seven year old kid, giving you the place of her mother despite knowing you for less than two months? It is true validation for sure.

Tears prick your eyes but you are quick to blink those away.

“I will try my best to be your best mommy, Sua. I promise.” you open your arms wide. Sua takes the invitation and jumps on your embrace.

You hug her smaller frame, while your smaller frame gets engulfed by Hoseok’s body. You feel his tears on your head.

A year later

Jungkook was euphoric when he got your message a week ago. You had asked him to meet you at the same place where he broke your heart once and then in turn you broke his.

But…

Today he got a good feeling about it.

It’s been more than a year since he fucked up and lost you. And as if to redeem himself, he waited for you.

He checked up on you from time to time. He asked to see you, even though you declined. But what’s more important is that he kept telling himself one day you will be coming back to him.

And he thinks… today is the day.

He is not late today, rather he came thirty minutes earlier than the time you decided to meet. However, waiting makes him nervous. And waiting for you is overwhelmingly so.

The cabin door creaks open and he sees you entering.

It’s been more than a year since he last saw you. If there’s anything that has changed by the time, then it’s that you have gotten even more beautiful.

You look gorgeous in the midnight blue bodycon dress that you chose to wear today. He can’t help but grasp at your beauty.

And when you smile at him, fully, he loses his breath.

How the fuck did I even think I fell out of love with her? he thinks to himself.

“Hey” you chime in, taking the seat across from him, “you are in time.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want to disappoint you. Not this time.” he replies genuinely. But he can see your smile dulling a bit.

“So..” you start. Jungkook crosses his fingers under the table, “how are you doing, Kook?”

“I am doing fine, Y/N, at least physically. But mentally, I don’t know. I am- I am not over you yet.” he confesses.

You sigh, “you should move on, Jungkook. It’s been more than a year. It’s time for you to forgive yourself and move on.”

“I don’t even want to try, Y/N. I am going to wait for you.” and he is serious about it.

“Okay. Now let me come to the reason behind wanting to meet you.” you change the topic as you busy yourself in looking for something inside your bag.

You pull out an envelope and extend it towards him.

One look at it and Jungkook knows what it is and suddenly he can’t breathe at all.

“I’m getting married next month, Jungkook and I would be very happy if you come to congratulate me and Hoseok.” you look at him as if you are pitying him.

He laughs. He laughs out loud, “You really are getting married to him?”

“Yes. Thank you for leaving me back then. If you didn’t leave me, I would have never seen this day or be as happy as I am now.”

Jungkook tries to find mockery in your voice or in your eyes but what he finds is sincerity.

You are actually thankful to him for leaving you.

The heavy door of the waiting room opens as a staff walks in, “ma’am you have a visitor.” she says before standing away from the door and allowing the visitor to come in.

It’s Jungkook.

You never expected him to actually come. But he did and you are happy to see him here.

“Kook.” you call him, making him smile.

Jungkook ogles at you. You look like a dream come true. You look better than his imagination in which you wore this white gown to take vows with him.

And it would been him if he was good enough, instead, he had to fuck things up.

“You look beautiful, Y/N. You look perfect.” Jungkook’s genuine words make your heart melt.

“Thanks. I am glad you came.”

“I had to. Congratulations. I am happy for you.” Jungkook smiles easily, he extends his hand to invite you into his embrace.

You accept it.

A knock rings on the door.

“Y/N. come out. It’s time.” Mi seon screams from outside.

“Yeah coming.” you reply, breaking the hug, taking one last look into your ex-boyfriend’s eyes.

Hoseok had never thought a day like this would come for him as well.

A day where he would wear an immaculate tuxedo, stand at the pavilion and wait for his bride to walk up to him.

But it’s happening.

And it’s happening all because of you.

It’s safe to say that you have changed his and Sua’s life within this one year. And now he can’t imagine a life where you aren’t there to make it better.

Sua, too, now loves you more than him, probably.

His parents love you, his sister cherishes you, his friends call you incredible.

All in all, he has found heaven in you. And he hopes you found peace in him as well.

The piano starts playing as you appear at the other side of the aisle, holding your father by his arm.

You are smiling from ear to ear. Even from a distance he can tell that you are staring right at him.

You know Hoseok is devastatingly handsome, but he looks even dreamier as a groom. You could cry from just the way he stares at you with eyes full of love.

Your father squeezes the back of your hand, nodding at you and probably praising your choice in men.

Initially you were scared of your parents' reaction, of what they might think when they get to know that Hoseok is a single-father and he has never been married before.

But with Hoseok, things can’t go wrong. Your parents accepted him and Sua readily when they got to know his past.

Now, your parents and Sua are practically inseparable.

You start walking towards the man of your dream waiting for you to make him yours.

When you get closer to him, he holds your hands so softly as if you are made of porcelain.

One by one you take the vows, intertwining your life with his.

“You may kiss the bride.” The priest says.

Hoseok lowers his head to catch your lips, “forever?” he asks.

“Forever.” you answer, as you seal your promise for an eternity.

Taglist 1:-

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A/N: Thanks thanks thanks to all of you for being incredible readers. I really can't thank you all enough for being so into the story, for interacting with me through the progress, for being as attached to the characters as I am, for being patient whenever I was late to upload. Where Do Broken Hearts Go will remain very close to my heart and your positive reaction is a big part of the reasons why. Just know that Nika loves you. Nika loves every single one of you a ton! <3

#bts angst #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfic #hoseok scenarios #jhope angst #jhope smut #bts

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carmenized-onions · 3 days

Text

Just Dropped. | Missing Invoice

logline; It's still fucking Friday. Half past five, maybe?

[!!!] series history, this is the eleventh; We're jumping RIGHT back in babe, feel free to re-review chapter ten to remember everything lmao.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to.

portion; 8.2k Thank fucking god this got split off from the last.

possible allergies; hurt,,,,, some comfort? You'll see, idk. No spoils. Terrible self-image, a lot of talk of Mikey's death and blame about it. Just a lot of mean and hurtful words to oneself and others.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (i don't believe there's any pronouns but feminine titles are used? you'll see) Also, if I'm being honest, this chapter is not about Carmen, lmao. but when are they, really?

you ever notice that the other shoe chapter doesn't have a period? lol pranked you!! genuinely both very interested and very nervous to hear y'alls thoughts on this one,,, i hope you like it,,,, if you don't,,,, let me down so gently, sweetpea

Same team. You say to Marcus.

It’s an idiom you coined, long ago. It’s a simple phrase you and your friends started to exchange whenever heads got hot, and you had to remind each other that at the end of the day, you’re fighting for the same thing. To get through the end of the day, together. You’re on the same team.

It’s not interchangeable with ‘we good?’ It means so much more than that. Fights happen, they do. You know that better than anyone, but it’s important to remind each other what you’re fighting for. Same team, you say to Marcus, after reciting all the pastas on order.

He says it back, calming down. Talking to Richie was just as important as running expo; same team. He gets it. You exchange reassuring nods.

Two doors swing open. First, Sweeps comes in through front of house, pressing a note to your back, you hold it there. You don’t think it’s a good sign when he mumbles, slipping past your shoulder. “Need a smoke break, one sec.”

Second, Carmen swings out of his office. Phone call over, he seems deeply bothered. Is Natalie okay? Is he okay? You imagine he wouldn’t just return to his station, right in front of expo, if everything wasn’t okay. He does seem… On the verge of something, though. Despite your concerns, you continue to bark out orders. You try to run it a little more… prim, this time, with Carmen back. A couple fewer ‘love yous’ peppered in between table numbers. You don’t want to make him snap by running the place not like his Exec would.

Richie rolls back his shoulders, stretching out his neck. He tries to find sympathy and kinmanship, in Carmen, “Cousin, your ol’ boss is such an asshole, you wouldn’t believe what he—”

“Respect him, Chef.”

Huh? That gives both you and Richie pause. You stutter on the order. “Twen—Twenty-six, table twenty-six, waiting on fish, Chefs.”

“Fish.” Carmen hands the plate off to expo, immediately. Cold. He hasn’t even commented on you running expo yet. Is he mad? You’re probably doing a shit job at this. You hand the serving tray off to Fak to run. He speeds out, like a reverse lassie, sensing danger and wanting to get the fuck out immediately.

“…Respect him?” Richie repeats, dumbfounded.

“He’s a Two-Star Executive Chef.” Carmen doesn’t take his eyes off his cutting board. You’re not sure what he’s making, right now— Oh shit, you should tell him about the cherry and lamb before he wastes his time.

“Don’t matter what his title is—” “Yes. It does.”

Richie’s brows raise then furrow, as do yours, just not nearly as dramatic. Neither of you were expecting a fight over this, you’ve both been serving this man first hand. Carmen worked for this guy for like two or three years, he knows. He has nightmares about this guy. You were expecting comradery. The guy is a dick, why won’t Carmen admit that? Why’s he suddenly got stock in his captor?

“Who shit in your cereal? He’s bein’ a fuckin’ creep, Cousin.” That touches your heart, a little bit. Richie’s not directly saying it’s affecting you, but it’s nice to know that he just as equally cares about your discomfort.

Carmen’s a different story, though. Because he doesn’t question why Richie would say this. Doesn’t bother to consider the idea that he’s not fully informed, on the situation. On any situation, for that matter. He just thinks he’s being attacked, for some reason.

“N’ what the fuck are you?”

That snaps you off of your focus— Quite frankly, it snaps half of the kitchen out of their focus. Everyone’s knives pause above their cutting boards, spoons half dipped into pots, it hangs in the air, for a second.

“Pardon me?” Richie puts a hand over his chest, taking a half step back, to physically display how much offense he’s taken. Fucking hell, it’s gonna be this now. “What the fuck am I?”

“D’you want me to tell you? Cause I’ll fuckin’ tell you.”

You’ve gotta get between this, before Carmen can tell him. You slip Sweeps’ note in your pocket, long forgetting it, at this point. When you step forward, Richie puts an arm in front of you, barring you from getting in the middle of this. “Rich—”

“Please.” Richie goads, ignoring you. “En-fucking-lighten me.” You immediately brace yourself for whatever impact you and the rest of this kitchen are going to be collateral for.

“You’re a fuckin’ deadbeat, Rich.” Carmen puts his knife down, turning from his station to face Rice. Where the fuck is all this coming from? What kind of phone call was this? When you open your mouth to interrupt, Richie puts his other hand up in front of your face, shushing you. He wants to hear what Carmen has to say. You desperately do not want to hear what Carmen has to say.

“You wouldn’t have shit without me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have shit?”

“You wouldn’t be able to pay for your fuckin’ life—” “Oh here we go—” “Or your fuckin’ kid—” “Oh, oh you wanna talk to me about my fuckin’ kid?” “You wouldn’t have shit—” “At least I have a fuckin’ kid.” “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, you don’t have shit, Carmen, you don’t let good shit ever fuckin’ happen to you. So fuckin’ tough, never let anyone talk to you.”

It is impossible to get a word in, inch wise. They are so in each other’s faces, Carmen’s a bit shorter than Richie, and that somehow does not make him any less intimidating. This has been brewing long before you showed up, that much is very fucking clear. What caused the snap to happen now is beyond you.

You cannot find a moment to interrupt, to attempt to mediate. No one can. The kitchen is divided, some continue cooking to avoid the situation, some have stopped to watch, wondering to themselves who’s going to intervene, and some are like you, waiting for the right moment to step in. There will never be a right moment to step in.

“Where were you, when I fuckin’ put your brother in the ground, you selfish piece of shit?”

Oh. Stray bullet, for you. You wince— Not that you weren’t already, but that was definitely a personal hit. Richie’s still harbouring resentment over that for Carmen, which means he still holds it somewhere for you, too. And at least Carmen came back after, to take care of The Beef. Where the fuck were you for the better half of a year? Vanished. You completely vanished, on him.

“You’re so fucking obsessed with my family— Such—You’re such a fucking leech.”

You catch it from Carmen, too. Does Carmen see you as a leech? A parasite, tethering to his family? To his work? Is that why he’s mad, right now? You’ve inserted yourself without asking— You’re so pushy— No, no, he likes that your pushy, you’re good. He doesn’t think that about you, he doesn’t actually think Richie is a leech either, he’s just saying shit to start shit. It’s working. He’s really stirring up shit.

“Oh, I’m fucking obsessed—” “You fucking leech—” “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” “I should’ve cut you out!” “Yeah.” “I should’ve fuckin’ cut you out!”

“I fuckin’ love you!” Richie points in Carmen’s face, and Carmen somehow manages to not give a shit. It does nothing, for Richie to have said this, and that is shattering. Sydney reaches for your hand, you don’t look at her, you only know it’s her because of the band-aids. You take it.

“You fucking need me!”

“I fucking love you!”

“You’re fucking nothing!”

“Don’t fucking say that!” That’s when you jump in. Practically call and response, for you. Your body processes what Carmen even said before your brain does. That was the straw. Carmen picked the wrong fucking one, to say that in front of. Carmen drew the line a lot of times, Carmen drew the line when he said to respect that Asshole— Quite frankly, Carmen drew the line with the broken sauce ‘you want a star’ bullshit with Syd— But this was the back breaker, for you.

You let go of Syd’s hand, moving to be in between the men, back facing Richie, defending him, “Don’t fuckin’ say that shit to Richie— To anyone, ‘specially not Richie.”

“Oh, like he’s some fuckin’ prize?” Your eyes go wide, like dinner plates. Carmen continues, “You wanna fix him, too? Add him to the list?”

“Fix him?” Is that what he thinks of you? That you think people need ‘fixing’? “I’m not trying to fix anyone, Carmen.”

“Didn’t try to fix Mikey?”

You straighten up a bit, whole brain dialing up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

You adore Carmen, but in this moment, you cannot help but think of all the utterly life ruining comebacks you could say to set him on his ass, right now. Bite your tongue, same team. “Oh, I’m excused?”

“You don’t fuckin’ work here.” Ouch.

“Oh, suddenly that’s a problem—”

“Think you’re the fuckin’ peoples’ princess—” Ouch.

“That is not what I’m doing—”

“No no, of course it’s not, you’re such a goddamn saviour, modern day Christ.” Ouch.

“Carmen—” Richie tries to step in front of you, you put the back of your hand on his chest, holding him back. Time for you to prove what you said, in your kitchen, just a few days ago. Time to prove to Carmen, and quite frankly, yourself, that you can take this. That you can take his teeth. Carmen gave you fair warning, that the shoe could drop, that he might do this. Your first fight. It came a lot faster than you expected, but fair warning’s a fair warning.

“Say what you wanna say, Carmen.”

“Where’s your fucking invoice?” Carmen’s never swore at you, you’re pretty sure. It feels weird, in your chest. Cornering. You frown. “You didn’t fuckin’ give it to Nat, don’t lie.”

“It’s complicated.” It’s a legitimate answer, to you. It is complicated. “We can talk about it, after—”

“I don’t need to be some fuckin’ charity tax write-off, alright?” Carmen interrupts, he doesn’t care to hear your explanation. He’s already decided your intentions, and that feels very unfair, doesn’t feel like you’re on the same team. “Just fucking charge me. You wanna work here? Fucking charge me.”

Is he trying to make your entire dynamic transactional? Why is he acting like this? What did you do wrong? Don’t tear up. You can take it. You can take the teeth, Tony, come on. “That’s not—”

“I don’t need fuckin’ fixing, alright, I’m not another fucking addict—”

You can feel bristle Richie behind you. You both handled that ‘fucking addict’ first hand, and you certainly don’t care for him to be referred to as such. You interrupt Carmen’s tirade, “Don’t say that shit—”

Carmen rolls back his head, like he’s tired of some sort of façade— Like you’re being fake. “Oh, my fucking God—”

“What! What the fuck—” “He’s fucking dead, you can say it— He was a fucking loser junkie—”

He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to start shit. Same team. He’s just hurt over something he hasn’t admitted yet. Same team.

“Carmen—” You can’t get a word out, with this guy. God, you wish this was at least behind closed doors. Wish he’d give you and Richie the grace of breaking you both down without an audience.

“And, and—” There’s a split second of manic laughter to it, he’s so incensed by the idea. “You, you fucking gave that junkie money?”

You’re quick to furrow your brows, emphatically shaking your head. Did you give him discounts on services and pay his diner tab on occasion? Sure. But that’s an entirely different thing. “I never gave Mikey a cent—”

“Oh?” Carmen shrugs, “So you don’t have a joint bank account?”

Oh.

Oh. Is that what this is fucking about? He found some paperwork or a debit card lying around and lost his shit? Carmen and Mikey are very different people, and you love that, but one of your least favourite differences is Mikey never circled the drain, when it came to what he didn’t like. Carmen’s spent forever, needling Richie, and then needling you over some fucking joint bank account? That still doesn’t feel like it, though. There’s gotta be something he’s not saying.

To be fair, you know how the man spirals, you were hoping to explain these weird leftovers from your history yourself. This is what the painting was for. You were supposed to start on the first page— God, at the very least, a softer page, one that makes it all make sense, for him.

“Carmen, I get why you may be confused, but I—”

“Don’t tell me I’m fucking confused. I’m not fucking confused— I— This is my fucking kitchen, alright?” Entirely nonsensical. Too many thoughts are stirring in his head.

It’s hard to keep your eyes from watering. Take the teeth, same team. It was easier to compartmentalize with Mikey, when he yelled at you, because his eyes were blown out, and you could tell that it wasn’t him talking to you. But this is a sober Carmen. This is what he deep down, somewhere, thinks of you, isn’t it? He doesn’t think you belong in his kitchen. Don’t belong here.

“That— That fuckin’ asshole out front, or whatever you fuckin’ call him?” He points to booth twelve, through the window. You are now reminded that there is a window, and that there are more people than just the kitchen, here, there’s patrons. If they craned their necks and listened close, the sound proofing would keep them from hearing Carmen, but you feel like they could probably hear the way your heart is struggling to keep pace.

“That’s me— That’s who the fuck I am. And I’m good like that, so—So if he’s a fuckin’ creep so am I. N’ I don’t need you comin’ in my fuckin’ kitchen, comin’ in my fuckin’ life, actin’ like you know better than me!”

“I never said I know better than you!”

“You didn’t need to!”

“I—” You swallow your spit. You have always tried to keep a level field, with Carmen. Since day one. “I never meant—”

“I don’t— I am not your fuckin’ charity case, you do not need to-to donate to me to make up for the fact that you failed Mikey!”

Yeah.

You can’t take these teeth.

Carmen Anthony Berzatto realizes a couple of things, seven things, in quick succession, after he says this.

Thing One. His middle name is Anthony. Tony. That’s kind of funny. He should tell you that, make you laugh. He never really thought about it, until now. Didn’t have one of those moments where his brain disconnects from his body as a method of escaping the poison in his mouth, so it can have plausible deniability, until right now.

Thing Two. You are not Mikey. He had gotten so caught up, over the past week, conflating the fact that you’re both so likable and so ‘The Guy’ with the idea that you’re just the same. You’re not. You don’t react to being pushed and screamed at, like Mikey did, you don’t scream back. You defend yourself, but you don’t bite back at him, the way he bit at you. You don’t fight. You don’t get mean. You are not Mikey. Carmen always took Mikey trying to help as him trying to one up him; a silent way of saying he was better. You are not Mikey. You helping around the kitchen tonight, helping him every fucking day, was never you trying to one up him— Let alone fix him.

Thing Three. Your cherry and lamb plate is nowhere to be seen. It’s only been like three, five minutes? Where’d it go? He can’t even find a plate of bones. You’re never going to speak to him again, after this, he knows that. He’s never going to hear straight from you what you thought, he needs to see if you cleaned the plate.

Thing Four. He didn’t even ask. He didn’t even mention the photos, the thing that he was actually hung up about. Carmen’s confrontational, but not in the way that matters. He yells, but it’s never the thing he actually wants to yell about. Those candles could’ve been for anything. How old was Eva, when you met Mikey? Carmen doesn’t know, he wasn’t here. Could’ve just been birthdays. There’s a million reasons to have those photos, there’s a million reasons to have a joint bank account. He should’ve asked. He should’ve listened when you were trying to explain. You were trying to explain. You had something to say. You even acknowledged how confused he must be. How confused must you be, right now? He didn’t explain why he was yelling, at all. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t listen.

Thing Five. Carmen wasn’t here. You were. You were here. He blames himself, for his brother’s suicide, and he wasn’t even here. And then there’s you. You were here, and you probably took Mikey on your shoulders the way you take everything on your shoulders. And he just said you failed. He never asked you, if you blamed yourself, but he doesn’t need to. Everyone blames themselves. God, why did he call Richie nothing? Richie was here, too. He’s not a fucking leech, he was here. And that’s a fuck of a lot more than Carmen did. It’s not just about when Richie put his brother in the ground, it was the years before, proceeding, that Carmen wasn’t here for, and both of you were. And he just fucking said that you failed. He said it was your fault.

Thing Six. Carmen glances over your trembling shoulders, out the window, to where he can just see the edge of his old Exec’s head. Who he’s just said he is. Ugh. He thinks back to when that man became Exec, and Carmen took over as head. He remembers the promise he made to himself, when he went back to his shitty New York studio apartment and cracked open an incredibly expensive bottle of champagne (gifted) to drink alone on his mattress with no bedframe. He promised himself that no matter how bad it got in the kitchen, no matter how bad it got in his head, he would never get in someone’s ear and tell them that they were no good, terrible, slow, useless, better off dead, dumb fuck. He promised himself, that he would never make someone cry in his kitchen.

Point Seven. He’s resented the fact for the past week, that he hasn’t gotten to be the first person to do a lot of things, with you. He’s resented how much he missed out on, how much he wishes it was him in the photos, in the memories. But now you get to be one of his firsts. You get to be the first person he’s ever made cry, in his kitchen. When his brain comes back to his body, and he repeats back to himself the exchange that just happened. Yeah, he’d cry, too.

You have wonderfully bright eyes. He didn’t tell you that, before. He should’ve. He gets compliments on his bright blue eyes a lot, but yours just have this glow from within, about them. A brightness that he doesn’t, a sweetness that his don’t. That’s gone now. Eyes go from wide to hurt to vacant. Gone. Devoid. Hand over your mouth to cover the wobbling of your bottom lip. You look like he did, two years ago, at the French Laundry. A shell of what he was. A shell of what you are.

Carmen was right, he is the man out front. That’s who he is. That’s what he is.

A husk, biting down on the hand that feeds; defending nothing from no threat.

Richie didn’t need to call you, to let you know that Carmen’s awful for you, that he’s an asshole to everyone around him, that he’s sharp and not worth your time. Richie didn’t need to call you, to tell you that he’s just some fucking creep Executive Chef, but this time, he doesn’t even have any stars to retain about it. Richie didn’t need to call you. Carmen told you himself who he is, just fine.

Please make eye-contact. Please look him in the eyes, you used to do it all the time. You might never look him in the eyes again, please do it one more time. He didn’t savour it, before, didn’t hold it, when he should’ve. He would’ve, if he knew it would’ve been the last time. He should’ve been savouring it every time. He should’ve kissed you, when you kissed him on the temple— He should’ve let you know. You’re so smart, when it comes to emotions and things— Everything. Intuitive. If you’d look him in the eyes, you’d be able to tell how sorry he is, how wrong he knows he is for saying everything he said. But you’re downcast, trying to zero in on something.

You swallow, blinking wildly in a failed attempt to stall tears, and nod imperceptibly, digesting his words. He wishes you wouldn’t. This is the last thing he’d want you to eat.

Sydney is already rushing to your side, her station long forgotten. “Yoyoyoyoyo—”

She’s distressed, because she cares about you, hurrying to comfort you, taking your hand, then arm, then shoulder. She’s trying to get you to look at her, you won’t. You won’t look at anyone. She’s crouching to get in your field of vision. “C’mon, c’mon—”

Richie is behind you, where he should be, already squaring himself up, making himself taller. Carmen has never wanted someone to hit him, he’s pretty sure, until right now. He just wishes it was you doing it. Fight him back, please. Break his jaw, permanently, please. Keep him from saying anything ever again. Keep him from making you make that face, ever again. He wishes it was you doing it, but he’ll take Richie as a close second.

Richie steps in front of you, grabbing him by his collar, good. “How could you fuckin’ say that shit to Chippy—”

“Please don’t call me Chip.” Is the first thing you say, voice quiet, cracking. You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, hard, thumb nail digging in. Eyes closed. You’re trying to hold it down. “Not right now.”

And like a guard dog, Richie heels. Of course, Richie would find you more important than violence. He cares. You put a hand over Syd's, on your shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m good, Syd.”

Everyone knows you’re not good. Your voice cracks painfully, again, when you say you’re good. “Just gimme a second.”

“I love you, dude.”

“I know, Syd—” “Will you let me?” “I—”

You take one deep breath, slow, rubbing your thumb over her hand. She gives you a clean dish rag. You wipe your tears and blow your nose. When you lift your head back up, to face the crowd that is the kitchen, it’s like it never happened. Well, your face still has that puffiness and redness to it, and your eyes certainly look irritated and glassy. But you’ve gathered such resolve back, immediately. Hardened up, immediately. Turned off a sect of yourself. If Carmen didn’t know you, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell you were just crying.

“Apologize,” —He'll grovel to high hell— “To Richie.”

Carmen’s eyes flicker with confusion, just for a second, you catch it. You repeat, clearer. “Apologize to Richie. Say you didn’t fuckin’ mean that.”

Carmen doesn’t need a broken jaw, to go speechless, apparently. You don’t care to defend yourself at all, here. Never put yourself first. He frowns, you don’t take it the right way, no, why would you? You speak with an extra layer of gravity.

“Berzatto.” Hurts worse than when you say Carmen with disappointment. Deserved punishment.

“I’m sorry, Richie…Not nothing.”

“Not fuckin’ forgiven—” You put a hand up, turning your head to face the man behind you. “Rich.”

“Oh, don’t—”

“Say sorry—” “He fuckin’ started it—” “You didn’t have to entertain it.” “He was bein’ a bitch—” “Jerimovich!”It’s more fun, when you do it to Richie. More kindergarten teacher like, breaking up a fight at recess.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry, Cousin.” Richie does not mean it. It’s okay. He doesn’t have to. He was right. Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.

You turn back to Carmen, of whom you still will not make eye contact. That’s fair. “Can Richie take five?” He doesn’t like that you feel like you have to ask him for permission, now. “He’s gotta help me carry tools, to my car.”

That’s a chance to talk to you, alone. “I can—”

“No.” You shoot Carmen down quickly. “Richie’s got it. You’ve gotta keep your kitchen in order.”

That hurts. But he said it. He said it was his kitchen, he said you didn’t work here. You’re so much more than an employee. You’re family, everyone here treats you like family. This is your kitchen, too. He doesn’t really care what anyone else thinks, right now, but it also occurring to him that he said all that in front of everyone here, everyone who adores you. None of these people have seen this side of you— You didn’t come to the funeral. This is probably why. It’s pretty clear you don’t like crying in front of people, the way you immediately go somewhere else mentally.

Richie’s already walking, you didn’t actually ask him to grab your tools from the corner of the kitchen, but he just does it. Wordless. Richie knows how to show that he loves you. Carmen could learn, from that. Carmen could learn from Sydney too, she said it, and she’s still holding your arm.

Carmen takes a step forward to you, and what you mean by it, he’s not sure, but what he does see, is you take a step back. He immediately takes two steps back.

You’re very good. Too good, too good for anyone. Not gonna change my mind ‘bout that. That’s what he said to you, when you confessed you were worried he would ‘figure out’ you weren’t good. He lied to you. The other shoe dropped and he’s the one that made it.

You sniff, you feel bad for taking a step back, but you think if Carmen touched you right now, you’d have a full-blown meltdown, and you’d like to hold some modicum of respect amongst your peers here.

Carmen hates you. You didn’t expect that. But it’s fair. You’re not certain what he saw along with the joint bank account, but if he was able to put the pieces together, it makes sense. You failed his brother, failed Mikey. God, it’s still ringing in your ears. You killed him. Everyone knows that. Everyone hates you. He said the quiet thing, that everyone here knows, out loud. You didn’t do enough. You weren’t smart enough. You failed to do the one job you’ve been trained for, save someone, set them at ease— For fuckssake, just keep your friend from dying. Is that so fucking difficult? Was that so hard? He’s right to say it. You don’t have the right to be upset right now. He doesn’t owe you anything. You owe him.

You owe him.

You look to Syd, “You have a pen?”

You can tell she doesn’t like that you’re essentially blocking off the part of your brain that feels pain. What’d she expect? You were an E.M.T. for three years, you learned how to turn off your brain. She gives you the pen from her breast pocket anyways. You dig through your pants pocket for a slip of paper, oh shit, the note from Sweeps, you completely forgot about it. It’s a folded guest check, it says ‘B12’ on the front. Booth Twelve, you infer. You unfold and read Sweeps' chicken scratch. It’s nice to focus on something that isn’t the rotting feeling inside you… No fucking way.

“Sweeps!”

“Yuh-huh?” It’s nice that Sweeps has only just came back in from his smoke break. He has no idea why everyone’s shocked and/or enraged right now, and there’s something beautiful and perfect about that. Sanct.

“Did he seem serious?” You hold the note between two fingers for him to see and know what you’re talking about.

Sweeps shrugs, slipping his Marlboro pack into his inner breast pocket. “You can fuckin’ read that guy?”

A very fair call. You sigh, then flip the note over, it’s hard to write, using your hand as a pad, but it doesn’t really matter, neatness doesn’t matter. Just write it fast so you can get the fuck out of here and cry in your car about a boy that doesn’t love you and never will.

“Freezer door hotfix, eighty. Plumbing repair, took about four hours, that’s two-fifty. House call oven, seventy. Oven hotfix just now, plus replacement part costs… One-twenty.”

You hate doing this. It sucks to be doing this. This is what the fucking painting was for. Why couldn’t he just let you do it in the order you wanted? You were supposed to start this on a better page.

“Said I’d pay you back for that pinot, which is about twenty on wholesale, so… Five hundred even.”

You click and unclick the pen, several times, shoulders tensing. “I don’t think you need fixing, and I wasn’t trying to make up for anything. I’m sorry, Carmen.”

“I’m—” It’s the first time he’s tried to speak, and you just can’t let him. You can’t listen to his voice right now, you know it’s unfair, but you can’t, so you interrupt him.

“I didn’t tell Nat you covered the invoice.”

You hand him the note, careful to hold it at the very edges, so you don’t make contact when he takes it. “I owe you two thousand.”

At the bottom of your shoddy invoice, it reads, ‘Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. $2,500.’

You told him it was fucking complicated.

He should’ve let it lie. He should’ve bitten his fucking tongue, like you did for him constantly. You told Nat her brother covered the invoice; you just didn’t say which one. Was it intentionally sneaky? Yeah, obviously, because how were you supposed to fucking explain that? It’s fucking complicated. But no, Carmen didn’t fucking want to hear anything you tried to explain, so you’re just gonna let his stupid fucking dumbfounded face stay that way. If he just told you what he actually saw, like a fucking adult, you could’ve done so, happily. But Carmen hates you, and he’s decided what you are. He probably doesn’t want to hear much of your voice, anyways. Keep it short.

“So just… I’ll just uhm… Wire you. Or something.”

You sigh, thinking about what’s on the other side of that fucking note. “You have my number, you can give it to him, if you want.”

The Exec liked the cherry and lamb dish. Of course he would, it was perfect. It also seems like he enjoys that you’re both smart and clearly ‘spunky’, or some shit. He wants the ‘wine girl’s’ number. Didn’t even bother to remember you said Jack. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll send the mystical wine girl his close friend Michelin Guide Inspector’s number, and maybe they’ll review the place. Maybe. Doesn’t matter to you. Not your kitchen.

A chance at a chance at a chance or your well-being? That’s Carmen’s choice now.

You snap your finger, pointing to the note, remembering. You never brought The Guy a wine, “Pinot Noir. Marcassin 2013. Top left shelf. Pit a cherry and put it on the rim.” It's the perfect pairing, for his dish.

At least get him a star, if he has to hate you.

When you start to move, Syd’s still holding onto you. You don’t pull her off, but you do put your hand over hers, and she knows what you want. She doesn’t care. She repeats. “Will you let me?”

Goddammit. Does she want you crying all over again? You’re trying very hard to not look like a wuss, right now. “I will. Just need five minutes alone, okay? I’ll wait outside.”

She doesn’t want to, but you’re not giving her many other options here, so Syd nods and lets you go. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes.” You clap your hands together, eyes glazing over the rest of the staff. Rest of your family. You’re trying not to read their expressions because if you do you very well might scream, cry, and throw up all at the same time. “Everyone! Back to work! It’s half past five you’ve still got a whole night ahead, look alive, Chefs.”

You pass Carmen, careful not to bump shoulders. Just get out of here unscathed. Hopefully he’s not too mad about the dish swap. You made the right call. It won’t matter if he’s mad, anyways, actually, he already hates you.

At least be something of value, for him, if he has to hate you.

Richie’s out there, leaning against the trunk of your shitty 2004 Dodge Intrepid. How he knew it was yours, you’re not sure. Probably the goofy bumper stickers. It’s a piece of shit. Broken fob. You have to use your key to unlock the trunk. It still works. You speak at once.

“What the fuck was that?”

You both laugh, though it’s hollow. You unlock the trunk, Richie throws your tools in. He’s first to add. “You didn’t actually want me to fuckin’ apologize, did you?”

You shrug, head tilting back and forth, he kisses his teeth, you supplement. “Listen, the ‘you don’t have a kid’— Touch crazy.”

“He fuckin’ started it!” “I know he fuckin’ did, I’m not defendin’ him!”

You purse your lips. There was the other thing Richie said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral, Cousin.”

“Ah, oh…” Richie attempts to wave it off, shrugging, as if it wasn’t a huge fucking deal to him just two minutes ago. “It’s good—”

“It’s not.” You interject. Richie always says he’s fucking good, when he’s not. He’s not good about Tif, he’s not good about the Exec making fun of him, he’s not good about you abandoning him, for a year. “It’s not good, Richie, and I’m sorry.”

You swallow, closing your trunk. You attempt to remember bits and pieces of your prepared speech, from dinner. But this is reality, and typically once transferred from your mind, it makes the words so much clunkier, lines forgotten, here and there.

“I should’ve been here, after. It was fucked up, that I just left. Made you hold it down, by yourself, and— And I can’t fucking imagine, Richie, how hard that must’ve been.”

Standing in The Bear is a touch easier, because it’s so different now. But Richie was there, days after Mikey died, in The Beef. Taking smoke breaks with a shadow that was no longer next to him. Forced to keep morale up, all by himself. You can imagine how hard it must’ve been, and that’s exactly why you stopped coming around.

Richie can only bring himself to nod, swiping his nose, because it’s starting to run.

“I— I didn’t cut you out. I want you to know that.” Carmen was so cruel, with that shit. “That wasn’t me cutting you out. I— I was tryna cut myself out.”

He halfheartedly laughs, confused. “Fucks that mean, Cousin?”

“I—” How can you word this in a way that isn’t just as cruel? “I didn’t think we were friends.”

He mimics being shot. You add, “Fuckin’ listen—” “Fuckin’ drive-by—”

“I just didn’t think— I don’t think anyone’s my friend, I don’t think.”

“What’s that even begin to mean?”

“I… I feel like… I’m just like… So insecure, about my place in relationships, that like— Like I’m not worth people’s time. Like we were only friends because we were friends with Mikey and we were handling him and I was like— Like I was helpful. So, like, when he died, it was like… We— There was no reason, for you to be friends with me, anymore. No us.”

Richie takes a moment, to digest it. The silence is terrible for you though, so you continue. “I’m startin’ to realize, that not likin’ myself, can actually really end up hurtin’ the people I love—”

“I’d still love you, even if you weren’t helpful. By the by.”

Richie’s interruption hits you in the chest like a fucking freight train. “Oh Jesus Christ, Richie—”

“What? What the fuck—”

“That was just fuckin’ crazy.” You cover your eyes, tears already coming to a head. He’s relieved, you mean crazy like good.

“Fuck, Richie, I love you.” You sniff, trying to look at him through watery eyes, it’s near impossible to do without warbling. “Man… You were here.”

Now it’s Richie’s turn to have his tear-jerking trigger phase said. “Oh, don’t start, Chip—”

“You were fucking here, Richie, Carmen doesn’t fuckin’ get that— No one gets that.” You’re kind of blubbering, honestly, starting to point at him, speaking emphatically. It might be better that this is happening in the parking lot rather than in the middle of the restaurant.

“You’re fucking— You’re fucking something, okay? Carmen is a bitch, you were right— You’re good, Richie. You’re fucking good and—and— You were here, and you’re important, and— And— I didn’t fuckin’ say that enough, back then. So, I’m fuckin’ doin’ it now. I love you, and I’m here, and if fuckin’— If Eva ever needs anything, I’m there, if you’re ever in need, I’m there. If you just want to fuckin— Fuckin’ text someone, and actually just hang out like Normals—I’m there for that, too. I’d even go to fucking Tif’s wedding with you, if that helped.”

Richie’s got a couple tears going, which is good for you, because it makes your sobbing less embarrassing. “Fuck, Cousin…” He looks down, rubbing the bridge of his nose, like a self-soothing technique. When he looks back up to face you, he blurts it out.

“You wanna see a Taylor Swift concert wit’ me?”

Your response is immediate and baffled, “What?”

“I’ve got three tickets for me n’ Eva but Tif won’t come, it’s in January.”

You take a moment to buffer, brain half moving out of the tender moment. Shaking your head in disbelief, still fully crying.

“Richie… That sounds, like the worst experience I could ever imagine. You couldn’t pay me to write an outing so perfectly curated to be the worst, for me.”

“Don’t fuckin’ hate on T Swift—” “Richie, I’d love to.”

The death grip grab and hug is so immediate. You feel bad for getting tears and probably snot on his coat, but he said himself it’s a knock off, so he’ll live.

“You didn’t fail Mikey, Chip.” He kisses the crown of your head. Richie must be a good dad. You’d tell him that, but he might overload, the man doesn’t get acknowledged much, you’ve got to take it slow with the praise. You don’t reply to his sentiment, so he repeats it.

“Y’did everythin’ you humanly could.”

“I could’ve done a couple things different.”

“So could I. It my fault, too, then?”

You both know very well, that you blame yourselves. And as much as both of you would like it to, this one cry-fest isn’t going to magically make all of those bleeding guilts go away. Especially not after Carmen tore those stitches right back open.

“Well, no—” “‘Xactly.”

But you accept it, for the moment. “…Okay.” For this moment, you get the lesson.

And you’ll both forget it tomorrow, when you have that split second in the A.M. Where Mikey is still alive, before you remember. But right now, it’s neither of your faults that the glue between you died and left you both to figure out how to still stick together. You stay in that hug for quite a while, crying and rocking back and forth, before Richie lets go saying, “Aright, I do actually need a fuckin’ cig.”

“You’re going to give me second hand smoke and kill me.”

He smirks, already fishing out a loosie from his pocket. “We can only hope.”

Despite your complaints and not being a smoker, you still pull out a lighter for him. Mom friend. Never know when you’re going to need a fire. You cup the flame for him. This is the worst Friday of your life, you’re pretty sure. But here is Richie, sticking beside you. And here you are, sticking beside him.

Syd steps out, she keeps crossing between a walk and a jog to you two, unsure of what looks more awkward. You don’t know, but you do know the option of switching between both is easily the most awkward.

She asks, walk-jogging up to you, “Are you good?”

“I’ve been better.”

She grabs your face in her hands, reviewing your puffy bleary-eyed face. Just looking at it makes her want to cry, too. You hold her wrists. “M’sorry for cryin’ in your kitchen. I know that’s the type shit you deal with all the time—”

Richie and Syd speak in unison, a rarity, for them to be on the same page. “No the fuck it’s not.”

Sydney continues, “That was extremely not normal. Crazy fucked up of him to say that shit— I don’t even know like— Like any of the backstory, but even I know that was fucked up to say.”

You sniff, nodding slightly. “Yeah, a little.”

“A lot.”

You nod, no longer fighting to downplay it. That was fucked up of Carmen, you don’t need to try to make it seem less bad. “Yeah, a lot.”

She nods back, still holding your face. Bandaged fingers pressed against your head. “What d’you wanna do?”

“Go home?” Cry? Eat freezer cake?

“Well, yeah.” She chuckles, so you do too. “I mean like, like—” She nods behind her, to The Bear. What do you want to do going forward? Never talk to him again? I’ll do it, too. She’s saying, wordlessly.

“I— I don’t fuckin’ know.” You admit, laughing, but hollow. The very idea of reconciliation feels impossible, at the moment. “I think I’m just gonna, fuckin’ ignore it, until it comes up. Just don’t break shit until I figure it out, I guess.”

“Wedding gig is gonna be so awkward.”

“Oh, fuck—” Entirely forgot, about the wedding gig, next weekend. Vinnie and Mira, destination wedding. New York.

Richie pipes in, “Tonight’s gonna be awkward enough, don’t even wanna go the fuck back in.”

Syd nods, letting go of your face. “I think like, half the kitchen wants to walk right now, just to fuck with him. I do, too. Should we just say fuck this and go to Mattina?”

“Don’t think they’re open, only do breakfast and lunch.” Richie knows their hours; it wasn’t always just Mikey and you there. He takes a drag, he blows it away from you, so you don’t get second hand smoke.

“Fuck... Could do Denny’s? Inky, you fuck with Denny’s, still?”

‘Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.’ That’s what Carmen was scared of, exactly. What he thought would happen, if the other shoe dropped. Is this you leaving? This might be you leaving. This should be more dramatic, if this is you leaving, shouldn’t it? There should be finale music ringing in your ears, somehow. But instead, you’re in a parking lot with a chain smoker and your girl, making shitty diner plans.

You can’t let them leave Carmen. So much work cannot be wasted just for your hurt heart. You shake your head— Then nod, confusing yourself. “I—I do still fuck with Denny’s, but y’all have to go back in, you can’t fuck him over.”

“I very specifically want to fuck him over.” Syd’s quick to reply, Richie nods, agreeing. These two are only bonding over a mutual love of you and a current mutual hate of Carmen.

“You gotta get your star, Squid.”

She swallows, at that. She loves you, she does. But you’re right. You always are. This is her entirely livelihood and career, she can’t just dip out, because of a fight. She’s done it before, during the worst rush of her life, but that was small potatoes compared to this.

“Go hold it down,” You look at both of them, nodding to The Bear. “Don’t let anyone walk, solidarity is cute, but I’ll be okay.”

Regardless of how right you are, both Richie and Syd boo you. “Let him drown!”

It’s hard not to laugh. “Fuckin’ —guys— I’m serious.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious too, Chip!” Richie jabs at your shoulder, lightly, “Thought you said you take me fuckin’ serious?”

“Bitch—” You click your tongue, pointing at him, sighing. You can’t help but smile. They’re both on your team, to the bitter end. “I will see you at the wedding, aright? I’ll text you, both of you.”

“You driving, too?”

You and Syd both back up, for a second, expressions baffled. You’re first to ask Richie, “You’re driving?”

He’s equally confused. “What, you’re fuckin’ flying?”

“Cicero’s paying, why wouldn’t we?”

“Uncle Jimmy is fuckin’ paying?!” Richie gives him an emotionally charged chocolate covered banana and still hasn’t gotten on Uncle’s good side? This is bullshit.

“He’s paying for everyone! Or at least I thought he was—” Syd replies for you. “That was like the whole fuckin’ deal— Did you not get emailed a boarding pass?”

“No! He told me to get gas— You’re fuckin’ flying—?”

You clap your hands together, “Richie, what the fuck is going on in your life that this is not the first thing that you clarified for plans?” You tap Syd on the shoulder, “Marcus said he’s cool with switching seats, by the way, so we can sit together.”

“I have a fuckin kid, aright—”

“Ooohh—” You and Syd mock him in unison. “We get it.” “Whoop-di-doo.” “Did you hear, Squid?” “What’s that, Inky?” “Richie has a kid!” “What? No way. He definitely doesn’t bring it up all the fuckin’ time.”

“Alright, fuck you two.” He waves you both off. “Plane's gonna crash.”

Syd shrugs, “You’re doing a twelve-hour road trip, you’re gonna crash—”

“Fucks Inky mean anyways? Stupid ass nickname—” “Oh, like Chip is so original—” “Actually, a dead guy coined it, so betchu feel real dumb now—” “I’m not capable of feeling dumb—”

You interrupt, “Girls, girls, you’re both beautiful.”

That quells them with snorts of laughter, quickly. They both shove at you. Equilibrium.

You explain to Rich, “I called Syd ‘Squid’ in high-school— Literally just ‘cause it sounds funny, and uh, she felt jealous that she didn’t have one for me—”

“I don’t know if jealous is the word—” “So Inky just became the call n’ response. Cause, cause squid ink?”

“Yeah, I’m not fuckin’ stupid. I can do two plus two, Chip.” Richie tucks his hands in his pockets. It’s starting to get a little chilly. You’re now remembering you left Carmen’s jacket at expo. Goddammit, now you’re remembering Carmen and your heart hurts again. You hug your shoulders.

“What’s Chip, anyways?” Syd asks, you and Richie both cringe, just slightly. Syd mimics it. “Bad?”

You shrug, “Just… It takes a lot, to explain, I guess.” Personal. “We’ll need a trip to Denny’s, for that one.”

“So? Let’s go.”

What did you just say. “Bitch—”

“Heard.” Syd cuts you off, laughing. She gives you a tight hug. “Text me when you get home.”

You hug her back, even tighter, if possible. “I will.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” It’s been three years, since you were really daily friends with Syd. And though you clicked right back into place no problem, in this hug, the feeling really starts to set in of how much you two needed each other this whole time. It’s been so long since you both had a best friend. It was good to be apart, and learn things apart, but now you’re both back. It’s not just Richie that you returned to.

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” You clap her back a few times, before letting go. “Alright, it’s been like ten fucking minutes, go be great. Get a star. Or a chance at a chance for a star.”

“Heard, Chip.” “Heard, Ink.”

One last hug from Richie, before they head back in, and you pop in your car, and drive off. Back home. Music blasts from your radio the entire ride, to keep you from thinking. Screaming along to diss tracks help soothe the soul in any scenario, you think. Won’t let anything hit, this way.

A stray cat, the stray cat, the one you feed on your fire escape, is surprise surprise, on your fire escape, when you get home. She’s (you think she’s a she, you’re not super sure how to check, you’re a former E.M.T, not a Vet tech.) biting the flowers you potted out there. The flowers Carmen stole for you.

After a quick google check to make sure none of them are poisonous to cats, you let her. Let the cat decide how much of him stays. You dish out a pile of kibble for her on the one black plate Carmen gave you. You leave it on the fire escape, long after she finishes. Let the elements decide if it gets ruined.

Let Carmen breaking your text streak, never sending you a belated Connections result tonight, decide if this is the end.

This could be the end.

The same picture frame that fell off your wall, just two weeks ago, when you were making the painting for Carmen, falls again. You grumble, picking up the picture frame, setting it on the coffee table. You’ll nail it up properly in the morning. You roll your eyes at the phantom that you’re never certain actually haunts you. “Mikey, shut the fuck up, this is your fault, y’know…”

You sigh, staring nowhere. The wind blows against your window. “I guess it's both our faults.”

You drag your feet, walking to your bedroom.

“I know you said I’d be a perfect match for your little brother, but at this point, I’m taking that as a read.”

It was so fun for me, the way y'all were like, ah, i'm sure this'll be so painful when this is resolved next chapter because Carmen will scream at her about it. hahahahahhaha-- You think the least yet most direct bitch of all time was going to actually confront what he was upset about? NO1!!!!!!! WE'VE ONLY GOT MORE QUESTIONS NOW. WHAT THE FUCK CARMEN!!! What's with that Advanced Payment? And I didn't lie bro, go back and read it, Tony did say Nat's brother covered it. Sneaky sneaky....

Oh, also. Y'all thought I would let the freezer fight slide by? Naahhhh, golden moment of television, just delayed the inevitable muhahahahha and got the FAILED MIKEY?!?!?!?! BROOOOOOOO was it as bad as you thought it would be or no? worse? better? lmk

I loved writing Syd and Richie w/ Tony here. I can't believe any of you thought I wouldn't see Richie and Tony's much needed reconciliation through--- If this was a Richie fanfic, 100% this would've been their smooch moment, fr. Also if you're a taylor swift fan, please don't be mad at me i was doing a funny okokokokokok-- (I also just think it means a lot more, if it's something she doesn't want to do, but will, for him)

i know it's technically still 2022 in their universe but tony was in that fucking car ride home listening to fuckin Ain't Shit, HISS, euphoria, Like That, Not Like Us, Not Nice (YOUR MAMA AINT WORTH THE CRACK YOU SMOKE BITCH!!!!!!!) I know she was so heated in there.

We've got a taglist, I'm bad at keeping track of it, but remember if u wanna be added to this silly little thing you need to hand in an essay (more like a cute lil paragraph) tellin' me what you thought! And also ask. Duh. BUT YA GOTTA DO BOTH!~

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin

I am sorry if your tag doesn't work this is why I hate tag lists tumblr always makes me manually type and sometimes it still don't even work...

As always, i'm always so grateful that you've given me your attention with reading, and if you have thoughts, i'd love to hear em! I always read your comments/reblogs too, even if I don't always reply. Adore y'all.

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear

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clockwork-ashes · 2 days

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Shallow Waters

Summary: Lucien spends the day with Eris (short one-shot).

Note: Thank you to everyone who shared plot ideas! Huge thank you to @acourtofladydeath for sending a whole list about a month ago :) I am back in my Eris era <3

Eris had always loved the forest.

The trees grew tall in Autumn, little sky to be seen. Leaves fell to the ground on crisp winds and everything was constantly in motion, a comfort, like a boat rocking on gentle waves.

As a child, Eris would spend hours on his own, preferring solitude to the company of others. The woods has been his safe haven, a place he could exist where the weight of his title as the High Lord’s heir lost some of its significance.

Whenever Eris needed a break from his father, he would go to his home in the eastern territories. The forest was older, the rivers lovelier. If he could have spent his whole life there, Eris would have done so. His whirling thoughts always fell silent, and he felt the most at peace.

“Did you see me, Eris?” His youngest brother called, his laughter ringing, shattering the quiet.

“Mhm,” Eris hummed, not looking up from his book. Using the forest floor as a table, he scribbled a note in the chapter's margins. “Nicely done, Lucien.”

A moment passed before Lucien spoke again. “You weren’t even looking,” he accused, frustration clear in his voice.

Eris briefly looked up from the page he was reading, leaning more comfortably against the tree he was sitting under. Lucien had his boots thrown off along the riverbank. His pants were rolled up terribly as he stood knee deep in the water, the fabric soaked through. “I was,” Eris lied. In truth, he did not have the slightest clue of what Lucien had been trying to show him, but he decided it was best not to further hurt his feelings.

For a child not yet a decade old, he certainly had an attitude, Eris thought. Lucien crossed his arms, brows raised in a way that suggested he doubted his eldest brother. Eris flashed him a small smile, hoping he would simply let it go.

Lucien threw his hands up in the air, defeated and dramatic. “Can I go deeper?” He asked.

“Don’t drown,” Eris replied, turning his attention to the book still in his hands.

Eris read more, taking in the information and jotting notes so he could remember his ideas for later. After going through a few more pages, he paused, his stillness predatory when he noticed it was unnervingly silent.

Eris looked up to see that his brother was no longer in front of him.“Lucien?” He called out, waiting. When there was no response, he repeated himself, tossing his book carelessly to the ground as he stood.

Eris quickly jogged to the river’s edge, looking downstream. The water shimmered in the light filtering in through the leaves, flowing lazily. His mother would kill him, Eris thought, her favourite son dead, and not even at the High Lord’s hands. And Eris would never be able to forgive himself, not if something had happened to little Lucien.

Panic choked Eris as he stepped into the river, trying to reassure himself with the knowledge that nothing dangerous lived within the shallow waters.

“What are you doing?” Lucien said, appearing next to Eris in a burst of golden light. His eyes shone brightly, lovely and foreign to Autumn.

A death sentence.

Eris fell to his knees, the water cold as he reached for Lucien, pulled him close. He had never particularly liked affection as a child, and he liked it even less as a grown male, but he could not help holding Lucien to him in relief.

Like Lucien had done countless times, he put his arms around his older brother’s neck. “What’s wrong?” He asked, genuinely caring, able to read the emotions of those around him easily.

“Nothing,” Eris replied, large hand cupping the back of Lucien’s head.

“Did you see me this time?” Lucien said innocently, unaware of the genuine worry he had caused, pulling away to look up at Eris with wide eyes.

He nodded, “Yes.” Lucien smiled, dimples showing. “Yes, I saw, I’m very impressed.”

Lucien shrugged, pretending it was nothing, but Eris saw through the act. There was pride in the way he held back his small shoulders, confidence at the rare words of approval. “All of you can winnow.”

Eris knew he was referring to their brothers, but he also knew that they happened to be children of a High Lord. Whoever Lucien’s father might be, he was clearly a powerful male, Eris thought. “Lucien, you must keep it a secret,” he warned, voice serious. “Show no one else, you understand?”

Lucien looked confused, frowning as he searched Eris’s face for any signs of deception. He looked ready to argue, a stubborn tilt to his mouth.

“I mean it, Lucien, just for a little while,” Eris tried to have some empathy leak into his tone.

Lucien must have seen something in Eris’s gaze that convinced him not to say anything more on the subject. “Alright,” he promised, russet eyes glowing gold as he hugged his older brother again, resting his chin on Eris’ shoulder.

The river’s shallow waters continued to flow around them, and Eris held Lucien tightly.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #he is little here for the big brother eris vibes #autumn court #ashes writes sometimes #thank you to everyone who reads <3

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perfectlyoongi · 1 day

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HUSBAND!JIMIN who offers you a cat instead of an engagement ring. when Jimin entered the house with a small orange cat, you smiled widely at the thought that you would finally have an animal to keep you company; however, when you looked at the collar, a small inscription sparkling in the silver locket, you almost cried, the tears coming so naturally with the confirmation of Jimin's love for you — finally the beginning of your family. “the beginning of a new chapter: a marriage and a family. i couldn’t be happier.”

HUSBAND!JIMIN who almost cried at the end of your wedding day. the entire day was a river of emotions that drowned Jimin in the depths of happiness without any chance of escape; but he didn't care; even consumed by extreme euphoria, Jimin felt the happiest in the world that day and he knew this feeling would last for days — he could only cry, he was finally happy, with you, forever. “i just love you and i can't believe we're actually married. my life will never be sad again, i’m sure.”

HUSBAND!JIMIN who sends you random messages throughout the day just to encourage you. Jimin's fingers were quick to send you messages daily, almost instinctively; whenever you appeared in his mind or when he saw something that reminded him of you, Jimin would start writing small tender words soaked in passion on his cell phone to make your day better, to show you that he will never forget you. “don’t forget to drink water. straighten your back and keep kicking ass at work.”

HUSBAND!JIMIN who likes to surprise you at work during lunch. whenever Jimin had extra time during his lunch break, he would make a point of surprising you at work, taking you out to lunch to clear your head and tell him about all the stress you might have accumulated in the first part of your job; just relaxed conversation, your husband supporting every word and delicious food to make that lunch ideal. “if we leave now, we can get a table at that restaurant you like. i’ll pay today, don’t worry.”

HUSBAND!JIMIN who randomly kisses you when you're at home. Jimin was simply full of love for you, it was impossible not to show you; when he met you in the kitchen, before leaving the house, when you were watching tv or before he went to take a shower, it didn't matter what you were doing or when, Jimin always made a point of kissing you gently and quickly, showing you day after day that the flame that arose in both of you when you were younger would burn forever. “my lips were a lonely, they just wanted company.”

HUSBAND!JIMIN who goes on long night walks around the city with you. holding your hand, without any destination in mind, Jimin walked relaxed through the city, letting the city sounds become the background music of your walk; you rarely spoke, but there was no need for words either, not when the city sang you private serenades and made you lose yourself in long moments of contemplation. “next week it will rain every day. do you want to go for a walk today and enjoy the clear sky?”

HUSBAND!JIMIN who will ensure that your love is forever genuine. Jimin knew that the feeling that united you was true, kept inside you for so long that it was already part of you; so, it was impossible for any of you to force the fire that burns your hearts, it was impossible to recreate that fire — Jimin was sure of that, but that didn't stop him from, day after day, year after year, remembering the love he felt for you, the love that makes his life more beautiful. “one day, one of us will be alone, but i know that even then, our love will continue to exist and make us happy.”

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peachy-panic · 22 hours

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Wrong Place, Wrong Time (pt. 1)

DO NO HARM.

Whew. After months (almost a year?) of marinating this chapter, I've decided to cut it in two. Thought about titling this chapter: Shit Hits The Fan. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: BBU setting, struggles with bodily autonomy, recovering alcoholic, mentions of violence

Jaime hits the ground with more force than he expects. His back takes the brunt of the fall, and for a moment, he is rendered breathless. A few weeks ago, the impact might have triggered a memory of real violence. Now, he gulps in a few deep breaths, feeling the grass at his back, until Ezra’s face eclipses the sunlight overhead.

“That was better,” Ezra says, extending a hand. Jaime takes it and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

“I can’t seem to stay on my feet,” Jaime huffs, frustrated. He swipes an arm across his face, pushing aside the hair that clings to his forehead.

“You’re doing fine,” Ezra says. “Getting knocked down is half the process of learning.”

Jaime grimaces. “I must be learning a lot, then.”

Ezra grins. “You are,” he says, sounding like he might actually mean it. “You’ve already improved from where we began. For now, take five and drink some water.”

“I can go again,” Jaime insists, already rocking back into his sparring stance.

“We have all day.” Ezra grabs Jaime’s water bottle and pushes it gently against his chest. “You’ll burn out quickly if you don’t pace yourself.”

At the finality in his tone, Jaime relents and collapses back onto the grass. He downs half his bottle in one go.

It’s been over a month since Ezra offered to teach Jaime how to spar. At first, the idea unsettled him in a way he couldn’t pin down. He didn’t understand the point of it. Ezra knew more than most how little Jaime’s ability to fight mattered; it isn’t an imbalance in physical strength that keeps him in his position. It is the law, the society, and the institutions decades in the making that hold the end of Jaime’s leash. Something about learning the art of self defense and knowing he is never allowed to exercise it feels more cruel than not learning at all.

One session, Ezra had wagered. Train with me once and see how you feel.

The first time, Sebastian stayed to observe at Jaime’s request, perched on a piece of exercise equipment in Ezra’s basement gym. Jaime, who spent the week leading up antsy and nervous, watched with rapt interest as Ezra wrapped his hands.

They started slow.

The first time Jaime hit the ground, the room went silent. In the split second of shock and pain, a flare of violent memories flashed before him: a handler shoving him onto his back, his foster father slamming him up against the hallway wall. Distantly, he heard Sebastian’s voice break through the budding panic. “Maybe we should call it a day?”

Something about that—the grounding reminder of where he was, who he was with, and that the choice was his to walk away—snapped him back into his body. Ezra watched him from where he stood several feet back, not coming to his side and not saying anything in response to Sebastian’s concern. Instead, he watched Jaime, waiting to see what choice he would make.

The choice was his.

Jaime pushed himself onto shaking legs, nodding once to Sebastian before meeting Ezra’s unwavering gaze. “Let’s go again.”

Ever since that day, Jaime has taken to training with a level of enthusiasm he didn’t realize he was still capable of feeling. There is an itch for it under his skin when he wakes up some mornings. When he stretches, he relishes in the way his muscles burn from their previous session. On his morning runs, he thinks through new techniques Ezra showed him and commits to perfecting them next time they meet.

On the evening after their third sparring session—Jaime still sweat-damp and shaking from exhaustion in the passenger seat of Sebastian’s car—he realized that this feeling was familiar. It was a sense of liberation he hadn’t felt since he last sprinted across a soccer field under the stadium lights, since the night he tore off across the backyard of a party with Derek at his side, high on the revelation that he might want to kiss him. It was the realization that training with Ezra made Jaime feel in control of his body for the first time in a long time. And that is a gift he can never repay.

Ezra sinks down onto the grass beside him, uncapping his own water bottle. It’s almost embarrassing how he barely breaks a sweat against Jaime. Maybe one day he’ll give him a run for his money.

From the screened window above the kitchen sink, Jaime can hear laughter from inside the house. He titled his head and smelled… something? Sebastian and the others insisted they would take care of dinner tonight and leave Jaime and Ezra to their workout. Jaime doesn’t know much about Sam and Aria’s skills in the kitchen, but…

Ezra smiles at him, nodding his head toward the sound. “How do you think it’s going in there?”

Jaime shrugs and lets his head fall back, enjoying the sun on his face. Spring is starting to blossom, slowly but surely, and it’s the first warm day of the year. “Nothing is on fire,” he says. “So it can’t be that bad.”

****

“Cilantro can substitute oregano, right? They’re basically the same thing?”

“No,” Sebastian and Aria say at the same time. Sam’s expression falls. The frown paired with the 1950s-housewife-style apron creates quite the endearing image.

“It’s not too late to order Thai food,” Aria mutters, pouring herself another glass of wine. Sebastian chuckles around a swig of lemonade.

He didn’t make a big deal about staying sober these last few weeks, but he’s pretty sure Aria clocked it anyway, judging by the way she has kept the bottle out of arm’s reach of him all evening. He pretends not to notice. She pretends not to notice him not noticing.

It’s been a good day.

He can tell Jaime tried to hide his enthusiasm about a return visit all week. He never asks him about it outright, but his demeanor visibly perks up at any passing mention of Saturday dinner at Sam and Ezra’s. Sebastian offered to take him over there before work on any given weekday so that Jaime didn’t have to spend the day alone in the house, but that’s where his enthusiasm waned. Jaime isn’t quite comfortable enough to be alone with anyone except Sebastian, but Ezra comes close, he thinks.

It’s good. It’s so good to see Jaime like this—surrounded by people who care about his well-being, expressing more autonomy than he has ever been allowed in Sebastian’s presence. It’s moments like this that tempt Sebastian into believing that it was worth it, slogging all these months through the misery of WRU, just to bring him to Jaime. To bring Jaime here.

And maybe it was worth it so Sebastian could meet the others, too; his first friends in a very long time.

They are laughing when the front door opens, so none of them hear the unexpected entrance until Julian Hernandez is suddenly standing in the doorway.

The room goes silent. Sebastian nearly shatters the glass in his hand to keep it from slipping to the floor.

“You need to leave,” Sebastian says, the panic overriding any facade of politeness.

Julian, who is skeptical of Sebastian on his best day, says, “Excuse me?”

“Shit,” Aria says, stepping up beside him. “Jules, he’s right.”

Julian looks around, taking in the sight of all of his friends there without him, and Sebastian thinks he sees a quickly masked flash of hurt pass through his expression. “You asked me to take a look at your transmission last week,” he tells Sam. “I brought my tools.”

“I did say that,” Sam says. “But I didn’t mean tonight. I’m sorry. This… isn’t a good time.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. He glances over at Aria. “Yeah,” Julian says. “I can see you’re busy.”

“It’s not like that, Jules.” Aria insists. “Tate’s—” she starts to say. But it’s too late. It’s too fucking late.

Because then the back door slides open and Jaime steps through, trailed by Ezra. They’re mid conversation, murmuring quietly. Both of their shirts are soaked through with sweat, clumps of hair clinging to their foreheads. Jaime is smiling—honest-to-god smiling—and Ezra is laughing at something he said, until his eyes meet Julian’s from across the room and he goes still. He puts a hand on Jaime’s shoulder.

“Fuck.” It’s Julian who says it, a breathy whisper as he realizes the clusterfuck he has just set in motion.

It’s the last sound in the room before shit hits the fan.

Jaime is the last one to spot the new presence in the room, and when he does, his entire body locks up. The blood drains from his face, making his pale skin nearly translucent. His knees hit the ground before anyone can intervene.

****

@whumpervescence

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@whumps-and-bumps

#do no harm: jaime & sebastian #bbu #whump #whump writing #many would say 12:16 AM on a Thurs/Fri is optimal posting for Big Story Moments

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the-kr8tor · 2 days

Text

Where the River Flows

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader

Word count: 7.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mentions, TW Blood and violence, TW death, CW injury, CW guns, CW alcohol. Old west AU, cowboy AU

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

You haven't slept this well in years, the last time you had was back when you've last slept next to him on the same lumpy mattress of his flat that you've once called home. Your eyes blink awake, cheek pressed against a pillow, it's soft, so soft that for a second you thought it was Hobie's arm. You stare at the ceiling, a carved magnolia tree stares back. Its branches are full of blossoms, perfectly carved just like the illustrations in your books. It's so vivid that you could practically see its pinkish hue. It's weird, you think, the carving, when the rest of the room is sparsely decorated; filled with drab oak, and cheap lamps. The room smells old, lived in by hundreds of travelers before you.

A creak echoes out at the far end of the bed, prompting you to look upon Hobie's bareback. Healed bullet wounds litter all over his flesh that you once held on. Raised scars dotted along his lower back like stars, stars that were once drenched in ruby. You wonder if it still hurts, the stars, like how the hole he left in your heart five years ago. You hope it doesn't hurt as much for him, you'll never wish agony upon him; even if a part of you thinks he deserves it.

Maybe you should tell him, tell him what agony has befallen you since he left. The pile of letters sewn into your skirt remains to be read by his viridescent eyes; its wax seal remains closed, the words of longing and hate are still scribbled upon the yellowed paper.

Your eyes dart along the expanse of his skin, frown getting deeper and deeper with every new scar you find. Hobie puts on his shirt, buttoning each one, the cloth hiding his own misfortune from your weary eyes.

“You talk in your sleep.” He finally breaks his silence. Looking over his shoulder, he regrets it immediately. The simple sight of your bed head and puffy eyes brings back memories of when you'd wake up next to him.

“I know,” I've been told. You grunt as you lift yourself off the pillow, elbow propping you whilst you watch him put on his cowboy boots and clinking spurs.

He blinks, hand pausing along the buckles. “It's new, you've never done that before.”

“Just like you said, a lot of things can change in five years.” Sitting up, you place your chin atop your knees, legs tucked under the covers, arms holding your legs in place. “What was I saying? In my sleep, I mean.”

“You were mumbling…” my name, he sighs at the thought of telling you the truth. “Someone's name I think, and egg soup for some reason.”

“I'm hungry.” You ignore whose name you might've been saying in your sleep. And you think it's not his.

“We need new clothes first, people must've gotten our descriptions by now. So we need to change.” Hobie puts on his leather vest, the metals of it clinking against one another. Then the hat comes after, he stands up, walking towards his gun belt.

“Okay, breakfast after?” You fight a yawn, palms rubbing harshly on your eyelids.

“Yes, breakfast after.” He secures his belt on his hip, silver guns shining in the early morning sun. “I don't think they have egg soup though.”

You crack a small smile. “It doesn't matter, anything will do.”

“The saloon has pumpkin soup I think, does that sound good?” Hobie has no idea why he's prolonging the conversation about soup out of all the things he could discuss with you.

You nod, staring at him through fond eyes. “Mm-hmm, sounds good.”

“Good, we need something warm to eat.” He realizes that he's been standing awkwardly at the doorway. Clearing his throat, you fight a smile. “Get dressed.” With the door shutting close behind him, he slaps his cheeks to wake himself. He needs coffee, or something stronger for that matter.

Meanwhile, you watch the space he just left with hope in your heart.

—

The dress shop smells nicer than the inn, it's elegant, looking like it doesn't belong in the middle of the dingy town. Every pile of clothing is neatly folded over the other, different outfits are displayed over the windows and display cases. Both leather and cotton are the most prominent ones, but there are a few chiffon dresses, lace and silks placed alongside the rougher fabrics. They're all wonderfully made, each having their own brand of beauty in every stitch.

You watch yourself in the floor length mirror. Dark trousers instead of a skirt hangs around your waist. A nice crisp white dress shirt on your torso fits perfectly on you thanks to the friendly tailor.

“You need a vest, or you'll get cold during your travels.” She taps your shoulder, genuinely smiling at you through the mirror. “Are you sure you don't want to wear a corset and skirt? You'd look just as marvellous.” Her eyes shine just like the dainty rings around her fingers.

“I'm sure, skirts and corsets are an inconvenience.”

“Well, you've given me a proper challenge then. But is it a challenge if everything looks good on you?” Her long dark hair sways behind her as she peruses her own shop, dozens of embroidered cloth folded neatly on tables.

“You're good,” you watch her sashay along her shop, colourful vests piled on her arm. “Just as good as the tailors back at home.”

Yuri, you learned her name just a few minutes ago, returns to you with her arm full of vests. “‘Just as good?’ oh sweetheart, I'm better.” She grins mischievously at you, red lips curled into a smug smile. Yuri would be friends with Hobie, you think, maybe in another life. “Arms up, my darling.” She holds up numerous different vests upon your body until she settles for a royal blue leather vest that has hydrangeas embroidered on it. “This is it!” Gasping excitedly, you let her help put the vest on. “Fucking beautiful! If I was your husband I'd be jumping your bones.” Grasping your shoulders, she places her chin atop it, smiling at you.

Your heart thumps loudly at the word ‘husband.’ “Thank you, Yuri.” You fiddle with the empty gun belt around your hips.

“Now for a coat or a jacket befitting a glorious woman like yourself.” She winks, twisting around in search of another dozen or so outerwear in her stock.

“Oh I think this is enough.” You don't want to use up all of Hobie's money, especially when he's still in the dressing room, none the wiser.

Yuri turns towards you abruptly, hand on her chest, feigning hurt. “Enough? Do you like prancing around town in your birthday suit?”

“No—”

“Then you shall have a jacket. The best one I've got.”

You bite your lip, a nervous tick of yours that Hobie once pointed out after kissing it off you. “I just don't want to spend too much.”

“You mean you don't want him to spend too much?” Yuri saunters over to you, boots clacking on the worn out floorboards. “What are husbands good for if not for spending their money for your own gain, hmm?” There it is again, your heart thundering loudly inside your chest. “Besides, you'd look marvelous in this coat. I'll give you a discount because you're the nicest customer I've had in years.” She leans closer to you, draping the leather coat on your shoulders for you to see. You beam at her, thankful. “It's similar to the one I gave to him, you'd be matching. Well, except this one is in a lighter shade.”

The coat reaches down to your knees, cream coloured with little fringes up front right where the front pockets are. It's beautiful with its white threads weaving around its seams. If you look closer at the bottom, you see that it gets darker as it gets closer to the hem. An almost brown shade that reminds you of the oak tree back home.

You inhale, staring at your reflection that you barely recognize in the new clothes. “Do you think it suits me?” Your voice is small, Yuri watches your expression, understanding what you truly meant.

Her playful voice lowers to a softer one, hands rubbing along your arms comfortably. “Of course, sweetheart. You're more than ready for the badlands.” You smile at her, nodding along to her encouraging words.

She twirls you around to face her, you chuckle at the sudden good hearted movement. “Now, my favourite part, the boots!”

—

You pick lint off the armchair while you wait for him to exit out of the dressing room. You're comfortable in your new clothes, it snuggles you cozily, you've never felt like this in any clothing at all; whether it be silk or velvet, all the dresses back home don't compare to what you have on. You look at your dark cowboy boots once again with a faint smile, its gorgeous spider web-like design has your heart bouncing in glee. It's a stark contrast to the threadbare shoes you had on. You make the shiny spurs clink on the floor, chuckling to yourself.

“Careful, don't scruff my floors.” Yuri appears next to you, handing you a small messenger bag.

“What's this?”

“A bag, every woman needs one to store her belongings.” She gestures towards the worn out skirt on your lap. “Especially the important ones.”

“I—”

“It's on the house, just this one though.” She chuckles before handing it to you.

“Thank you, Yuri. That's awfully kind of you.” The leather is rough against your bare hands.

“No worries, darling.” She shrugs, “after all the things you've bought it's only normal that I'd give you a little freebie.”

A door suddenly creaks open, and out comes Hobie in his new outfit. A light airy dress shirt fits perfectly on his torso, the same black bandana still hangs around his neck, hiding the large scar. He fixes the fit of his dark blue vest even though it clearly doesn't need fixing. It has a typical western embroidery on it, saved for the almost invisible peonies dotted along the buttons. His gloves are the same, lighter around the palms where friction is usually present. You flick your eyes over to his coat, Yuri's right, it's almost the same as yours. The length is shorter to accommodate for the warmer weather coming in. The shade is in this mahogany brown, warm in the eyes, a hue lighter around the hem, almost as light as your own coat. Frills are lined around the arms, the silver spikes placed atop the shoulders makes it more unique. His belt buckle this time is different, a spider trapped in amber in place of the deadly scorpion. It's cradled in silver, laurels weaving around the corpse of the spider like an elegant coffin.

Your eyes shine at his handsome appearance. “My, don't you look dapper.” You drink him up, every new thing satisfying your need. Roaming your eyes downward, you tilt your head at the odd material on his legs. His boots are the same, even the spurs, but you can't quite place the new fangled blue thing around his legs. “What's that?”

Both Yuri and Hobie follow your gaze. But Yuri seems to be the only one who could form a coherent sentence. “They're blue jeans, or work pants. Much more comfortable than the old pants. Looks nicer on the behind, eh?” She nudges you, winking at your flustered expression. “Or enhances what's lacking.” Her last comment trails off as you unabashedly ogle him.

“Fuckin' hell.” Hobie finally speaks, his eyes avoid your form. Especially the vest that cinches you right where it matters. “Why do you have a bag?”

You stand up, slinging the bag over your shoulder. Yuri watches the whole thing with amused eyes. “For my things.”

He furrows his brows, “you don't have things, Y/N.”

Eyeing the riding gloves on the table, you cross the small distance, taking it, but before you place it inside the bag, you spot a pretty pink lace ribbon next to it. You also take it for good measure and to annoy him further. Putting it inside your bag, you teasingly smile at him. “Now I've got things.”

Yuri gives you a nod and a thumbs up whilst Hobie takes out bills to pay for everything.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She victoriously smiles, counting the money.

“Not a pleasure on my part.” Hobie grumbles, you clamp your mouth shut to prevent a laugh from coming out.

—

The saloon is bustling with people even though it's still early in the morning. Some drink their fill next to you at the bar, some are just like you, looking for something warm to fill their bellies with to survive the rest of the day. The whole place smells of hard liquor and broken dreams. You have no idea which smells worse, the sticky floors or the lavatory at the far end of the place. The wide windows help brighten up the place at least, sunlight streaming into the carved establishment. Animal heads stare down at you, an elk’s and a buffalo's empty beady eyes look over yonder the drunkard's solace.

A piano sits just behind you, its stool is currently empty, maybe you should put all the lessons drilled into you to good use. It's better to wait for your meal there than sit right next to a stranger who looks like he's about to expel his breakfast onto your new clothes. Besides, some good music could tamp down all the drunken mumbling and the annoying scrapping of plates.

Hobie notices your heavy look, abandoning his coffee, he taps your shoulder and you almost jump in your skin.

“You still play?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the old piano.

“I dabble, but I'm a bit rusty. I prefer gardening nowadays.” You lock eyes with him, “and shooting.”

Hobie chuckles in his seat, eyes avoiding your own smile. “You should play, I'll call you when our food is ‘ere.”

“Are you sure?” A soft smile spreads across your lips.

“I’ll watch your back, don't worry.”

Hope weighs you down again. You leave the bar stool, walking the distance towards the familiar black and white keys. Sitting down, you wrack your brain for the notes you've made a long time ago. A song that you've written yourself for the man who watches your back.

Hobie watches you intently, ears perking up at the unfamiliar music. Your hands move precisely, fingers pressing quickly as the song quickens. He smiles, glass now lay forgotten on the bar to watch you play your music. The rest of the bar quiets down a smidge, even the drunkards pause their lips at the mouth of their glass to listen to you play. The song crescendos, from a fast happy beat to a tone that is slower, a forlorn one. All in all, you play it with grace, and weaved with so much emotion.

Hobie scoffs, yet the fond smile stays. “Rusty my arse.”

The bartender appears behind him, plates in hand. “Your girl plays well.” The man places your meals on the bar, pumpkin soup sloshing on the sides of the bowl. Hobie turns towards him, not fully so he could still see you in his peripheral vision. “Is she for hire? Our player retired a few weeks ago, the saloon has never been this drab.”

“No, we're just passin’ by.”

The bartender leaves with a nod. “Too bad.”

Hobie takes his sandwich, twisting around to continue watching you. His eyes zeroes in on the sudden presence next to you. The brim of the stranger's hat hides his face, yet, Hobie knows exactly who he is based on his confident stance. Or who he was before Hobie single handedly destroyed his gang.

You finish the song with a flair, chest heaving, grinning from ear to ear.

“Bravo!” The man leaning towards the piano claps, then a chorus of scattered applause follows right after. “Amazing, sweetheart! Where'd ya learn how to play?”

“A tutor.” You smile shyly.

“Ah, what's the song called? I don't think I've heard of it before.” His long beard moves while he makes casual conversation.

“I-I made it actually.”

“Oh? I didn't know we had a composer in our humble establishment.” He taps the old piano with his gloved hand, his other hand rests on his gun belt, golden pistol shining in the sun. “What's the story behind it, eh? My ears picked up some sad depressing story through the notes.”

“I'm not a composer, a-and yeah, I made it for somebody.”

“Well, I—”

“Culver!” Hobie's booming voice echoes out in the entire saloon, everyone stops what they're doing. “You want to talk to me? Come over ‘ere instead of pestering her.” He has had enough of the conversation, and the danger that you've unknowingly put yourself into.

“Mr. Brown.” Culver says through gritted teeth, standing up straight, flicking the brim of his hat to reveal his face. “Fancy seein’ you here. You're in my territory, spider.”

You notice every single patrons’ faces turning into something akin to a person seeing a ghost, or the reaper itself. Slyly, you move your eyes over to the man, Culver, his name is familiar, you're sure you've heard of it before. Inhaling, you look back at Hobie, whose hand is placed on his gun belt, ready to whip it out if needed. He silently communicates with you, run, his eyes says, but you're paralyzed by fear when you finally remember where you heard the name Culver. It was what that old man Arthur said back then, he's the man whose men were killed by Hobie in a single night.

Heaviness hangs in the air, tension so thick that you can't even poke a hole right through it with a bullet.

“Is she someone precious to ya?” Culver says, suddenly gripping you by the scruff of your blouse, your back hitting the piano keys harshly. You yelp, and Hobie abruptly stands up, eyes aflame. The bearded man smiles, blackened teeth in full display. “She is, isn't she?” He wiggles your head in his hand. You sit there frozen, unable to even breathe. “What if I do the exact thing you did to my men, eh?” You hear chairs scraping against hardwood floors and boots frantically running towards the back exit. It's just you three in the saloon. He taps his finger in between your eyes, flaking leather on your soft skin. “A bullet in between her eyes would look lovely on her, don't you agree?”

“Your quarrel is with me. Let's take this outside, shall we?” Like a strike of lightning, Hobie cracks his bullwhip towards Culver. Dust in your eyes, the high pitched sound ringing in your ears. You then see Culver getting dragged away from you by his arm. The whip wraps around his flesh, threatening to skin him from the force Hobie pulls him towards the swinging doors of the saloon.

You inhale the gunpowder like scent it left, standing up, you quickly follow Hobie out into the sun. As the light hits your eyes, you watch Hobie cracks his bullwhip again. Culver yells in pain as Hobie releases him in the whip's clutches before placing it neatly back on his belt. He stands ways away from him, just across the screaming Culver.

“Painful, innit? This is what you did to two of my mates.” You walk to Hobie's side, he spares you a glance, roaming his jade eyes over you to check for injuries. Satisfied, he then returns his attention towards his target. “Remember that fuckin' pain, because my bullet hitting your heart would hurt much more than this.”

Culver holds his aching arm, kneeling on the muddy ground, hat fallen next to him, revealing a shiny head. “You lettin’ me go?” He cackles, you don't hide behind Hobie. “Just like that? Oh that woman has softened you up, Mr. Brown.”

“D’you want to keep talking or do you want to fuckin' start?”

You knit your eyebrows, fear encompasses you. “W-what’s about to start?” Your hand finds his bicep, holding on to him tightly like he's about to leave you. Again.

“A showdown, go to the side, love, I don't want you ‘ere when the bullets start flyin’” He watches Culver slowly stand up in the corner of his eyes.

“A fucking duel? Are you crazy?” You grip tighter.

Hobie gives you a smile, the same smile he lets you see every night before you head home. It's a boyish smile, innocence hidden behind it. “Go, I'll be fine.”

“And if not? He looks like he's a gunslinger. What if he wins and you die?”

“Then I can't burden you anymore.” He whispers, green eyes glimmering in the sunlight.

“Burden—? What are you talking about?”

“Go, I'll win, don't worry about it.”

“Hobie—!”

“Go, Y/N!”

You move without question after he yells at you. Your hands trembles, knees going weak, tears brimming in your eyes, and he can't even look at you.

As the two men move further away without turning their backs towards each other, you hold onto the saloon's pillar lest you crumble from fear of losing him. Again.

Bystanders look on, watching the spectacle unfold right in front of their eyes. Some hide behind windows, children hide behind their mother's skirts. While you have nowhere to hide. Your nails dig into the wood, Hobie squares his shoulders, fingers brushing along his holster. You spare a look towards his target, his hand already resting next to his yellow-gold gun.

Silence hangs in the air. Death waits for the loser.

Hobie squints his eyes, attention fully on the man before him. He leans back slightly, right foot stepped forward, silver gun shining in the sun; you can even see your reflection on it.

With a single breath, it's all over.

Culver was too slow to quickdraw, probably from his still aching arm. He drops his gun before he could fully draw it out. Hobie's bullet has left a sizable hole in his dominant palm, a gaping, bleeding wound that you can see through if you stare long enough.

Culver screams, a gutteral shriek that worms into your mind. He drops to his knees, eyes wide in panic and shock, trousers drenched in his own blood. Gunpowder still lingers in the air when you run towards Hobie's side. Your hands grip his shoulders, breath stuck in your throat, as you check for any bullet wounds.

“Are you hurt?!” You scream, ears ringing from the loud shot.

“‘m fine,” your wandering hands find reprieve on his jaw. “Love, ‘m fine.”

He sees fear in your eyes like never before, not even when you get punished, cheeks stained with tears from whatever they've thrown at you. You've never looked like this terrified. Scared like a starving doe caught in a bear trap.

“Remember what I told you?” You can't speak or even think. “Breathe, Y/N.” Hobie takes your hand off his skin, there's a reluctance that you're not privy to. “Just breathe, inhale and exhale.” He holds your hand, squeezing once before leaving your side. “I need to finish the job.”

You exhale and he's gone, the golden gun kicked far away, aiming the still warm barrel against Culver's head. “No…” Running after Hobie, you refuse to see another dead man. “Stop! Please.” Gripping his gun once again, you plead with him. “Don't kill him.”

“Step aside, Y/N. If I don't—” he can't fathom what Culver would do to him, to *you if he doesn't end it right there and then. The cycle must stop, he can't accomplish it if you're standing in between his gun and Culver's soft head. “Don't get involved.”

“Please.” You breathe out, warm hands placed around his shooting hand. “Take him to the sheriff, let justice take its course. He's backing down, I don't want to see you kill another one.”

“The sheriff won't do shit. Just like now,” he nudges his head towards the man amidst the crowd. “Let me do this, or he'll follow us and hunt us down.”

“I won't!” Culver suddenly yells, even louder than his painful screams. “I won't follow! I'm tired, Mr. Brown. I don't want to do this no more.” He looks up at the two of you, remourse evident on his face. “I'm sorry about your friends, I really am! But we're already even, you've taken mine too. Every single one I've got.”

“Promise to never exact revenge,” you tell the groveling man as you watch his salty tears mix in with the warm crimson.

“I promise,” Culver cries. “I promise, miss.”

You look back at Hobie, your eyes meet his own. Anger subsides in those emerald eyes, face turning soft. “He promises, Hobie.”

“An outlaw's promise doesn't mean shit—”

“You’ll have to shoot through me to get to him.” You point the barrel right on top of your chest, its warmth seeps through you.

“He wanted to hurt you.” Hobie softly says, fingers wrapping around your own.

“I’m not hurt. It takes more than threats to hurt me, Hobs.” You both stare at each other, hearts beating together. “Can you holster your gun please?”

Together, you help him lower his gun. Together, you let Culver go.

—

You need to leave town immediately. Strawberry's sheriff might've been easily placated with a good duel, but other lawmen pursuing Hobie might not be. Bucky neighs loudly at the sight of you, moreso when he sees your intertwined hands.

“Hi, Bucky.” You start to place your foot on the stirrups but Hobie stops you halfway.

“You need a horse. Might as well put your new gloves to good use, hmm?” You smile as Hobie whistles for the stable hand for help. A teenage boy with worn out blue jeans appears. “She needs a horse. Anythin' fast, or hell, anythin' you have available. What do you have?”

Their conversation drifts into the background. Your attention and breath is taken away by the gorgeous mare that stands behind a stable door. Her shining blue eyes watch you as you approach, hair as white as snow, the same hue as her body, she glimmers in the sunlight that filters through the wooden cracks. She huffs, head leaning away when you hold out your hand. You could only wait for her to make the move, watching you with peculiar eyes like she's sizing you up.

The stable boy does a double take, “wait, ma'am, that's not—!” When he says it, the white mare leanes closer to your touch. “Well I'll be. She never lets anyone touch her except my boss. She's as fine as cream gravy that one is.”

“I think she likes me.” You tilt your head as she sniffs your hand.

“That's a fuckin' arabian, love.” Hobie says breathlessly, watching you and the hot tempered horse interact like you've been her rider for years. “Can't you pick another horse that doesn't cost three horses combined?”

You laugh, feeding the mare hay. “I could, but I really think she's the one for me.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. “I can choose another one, Hobie.” As if understanding your words, the mare nudges your shoulder. Hobie feels like he's being robbed in broad daylight. But he'll spend a million for you if you ask.

The stable boy pipes up from the side. “You can't actually, ma'am, I was just tellin’ your husband here that we only have her available. The rest already have owners you see. She was abandoned six months ago.”

“How could anyone abandon you?” You whisper towards the horse, petting her head as she welcomes your touch.

“I think her last owner died, and no one has since picked her up, or bought her. My boss is more than willing to get rid of her now to make space.”

“We'll take her, on a discounted fee of course, since she's second hand. And a saddle too.” You grin at Hobie's words.

The stable hand sighs. “At half price too I bet?”

“Now you're speakin’ my language.” Hobie pats the boy's shoulder as he negotiates prices. The mare huffs again, asking for more hay while you are distracted by Hobie's wink thrown your way.

—

“She still doesn't have a name.” Hobie finally breaks his silence, he rides alongside your horse, making sure that your ill tempered mare doesn't buck you off. His hands guide Buckeye, but his eyes are completely on your form.

The road is long and empty, save for a herd of bison roaming just below the mountain you're both trudging. There are small graves littered around the road, worn out crosses, wood eaten by termites. Etched names forgotten, lives scattered in the wind amidst the dirt and blazing sun. You wonder how they died without getting to their final destination. The sun has completely risen, humidity making your lips dry, heat stuck in between your skin and the leather of your gloves. The canopy shields you from the rays, luscious greenery everywhere, trees and grass littered all over the mountain side. You can hear wild horses neighing far away from where you are, their hooves thumping freely on the soil.

You pause from braiding your horse's hair, securing the braid with the pink lace ribbon. Your eyes meet with familiar emerald eyes. “I've been thinking about it actually.”

“Well? What are your options?”

Your lips curl into a mischievous smile. “‘Blue jeans’”

“Oh fuck off.” He rides ahead to hide his growing smile.

You quickly follow, pulling the reins, clicking your tongue to make your horse trot alongside Hobie. “Why not? I like it, I think it fits her.”

“No it does not. You're fucking with me, lovie, and my blue jeans.”

You like him like this, bathed in the sun, in warmth as he smiles back at you; just like the days when you were still just friends, friends with lingering feelings that you're both too afraid to confess. If he doesn't love you back just as before, you'd settle for this, just friends who laugh and talk, and tease each other. It's better this way because friendship means that he still cares for you, that there's still a space for you in his heart no matter how small it is, that you're not forgotten.

“Oh you and your precious blue jeans!” Your laughter echoes around.

“Will you be like this the entire time?” You both turn a corner, where no trees shield you from the sun. He notices you narrow your eyes, palm above your eyes to see him better. “‘ere.”

“W-what?” There's suddenly a hat atop your head, his hat. “Oh!” You run your fingers along the brim that shields you from the light. The leather is soft, a few bumps here and there but you can feel that it's been taken care of. Hobie clears his throat, and your cheeks run warmer than the summer sun. “T-thank you.” You're not an idiot, you've been here for weeks so of course you've heard of the ‘hat rule’ in passing. But you don't know what to do, or what he wants to do when it's in reverse.

“No problem, you've already taken my money, might as well hand you my hat, eh?” Hobie inhales, the mere sight of you wearing his beloved hat sends his heart into overdrive. Maybe he shouldn't have given it to you.

“You make it sound like I'm robbing you blind. I was alright with my old clothes.”

Hobie has the opportunity to say either of the two things that popped up in his mind. One, tell you that you've only robbed him of his heart. And two, make a joke about how much Bucky disdained carrying you with your musty clothes. So he does neither.

“We had to, or we'll be recognized faster than a mother recognizes her child.” You both finally reach the foot of the mountain, successfully surviving without anyone shooting at you, kidnapping you; or hell, getting eaten by a bear. With both of your luck, it's possible.

“Weird analogy but okay.” Your stomach grumbles when you two come to a stop at a fork in the road. One goes to the right, the other on the left. There's nothing else distinguishable on either one of them. The signage is long gone, taken by strong winds, or just time itself. You wince, hoping that he didn't hear the sound your stomach made.

He raises a brow, chuckling deeply at the sight of you hiding your face with the brim of his hat. “I forgot we didn't get to eat. That sandwich smelt really fuckin' good.”

“I really want that pumpkin soup now.” You groan, leaning forward to rest your head on top of your horse who barely notices your movement.

“C’mon, I know a place.” He taps your boot with his own.

“Where?”

“On the left, it's not that far but it'll delay us on our journey.” It's not a bad deal, he thinks to himself.

You suddenly perk up, this is what you were asking for back in that cave, the road less traveled, the road where you get to just spend more time with him. And postpone your homecoming.

“What are we waiting for then, cowboy?” With a kick, and a laugh in your throat, you bolt over to the direction he pointed out.

“‘Cowboy?’ bloody hell.” He really regrets giving you his hat because now he doesn't have anything to hide his flustered face anymore.

—

“You said it was a restaurant,” you huff at the wide river before you, hands on your hips, stomach growling. “Not that we have to catch our own meal!”

Hobie can't help but laugh, a hearty, genuine one that also has you smiling. This suits him, just happy and without a gun in his hand. You like him in every conceivable way possible, even if you're still getting used to his new self. “I just said, ‘I know a place.’ I ain't no liar. Did you expect a café in the middle of nowhere?”

“Yes! And no— I'm hungry now, Hobs!” Your horse agrees, hoof digging into the dirt. Buckeye stands hitched next to her, eyes glued on her white mane. Weird, you thought. “Look, even blue jeans agree!”

“Instant gratification,” Hobie pulls his jacket off and places it on the saddle; he then takes out a folding fishing rod from Bucky's saddle bag. “You should work on that because it's not gonna work well ‘ere, love.” He walks towards the river bank, toeing off his boots, folding up the same trousers you love to see him in. And also folding the sleeves of his shirt to reveal his toned arms. “And her name can't be ‘blue jeans!’” Yelling back, he trudges the rushing cool water that goes up to just below his knees.

“Okay, fine!” You start to strip, taking off your coat and his hat— folding your trousers and sleeves, you follow him to the rocky river bank. “How about ‘trout’ then.”

He hears your voice closer, he laughs at you when you almost slip on a rock. “Careful, it's slippery. You can't name her ‘trout,’ she's too pretty for that.”

“Now you tell me,” you roll your eyes at him as he casts the line. The bait and hook plops in the deeper water, now the waiting game begins. “‘Too pretty?’ you once nicknamed me beetle just because it bit me once!” Warmth spreads across your chest at his laugh. You feel at home in that cold river.

“And? You callin' yourself pretty?” His smirk takes you back at that oak tree.

You have an urge to kiss it off him. You don't, it's not the time yet, or you may ruin everything. “Yeah, you did, I remember you calling me pretty…” you lean closer, face dangerously close to his own. Breaths mixing in together, but you still give him enough space to move away. He doesn't. You don't mention it. He thinks about your lips upon his. “And gorgeous, and then absolutely stunnin’!” You copy his drawl, but before he could even laugh at your teasing, the fishing rod starts to move, yanking him forward.

“Oh fuck!” Hobie reels it in, and you gasp in disbelief at the sheer strength the fish has. “Help me or we'll starve!”

“You don't have to tell me twice!” You embrace him from the back, arms squeezing him, face smothered by his shoulder. He feels warm, he still feels the same. You dig your heels in while he fights with lunch. “Come on, cowboy!”

He almost let go of the rod. “Shit!” You laugh into his shirt and he almost falters once again. “Come on you little—!” With one hard yank, he finally sees the fish fly up, the sun hits its scales, body frantically flopping around. But he pulled too hard, and down he goes on the river bank, with you catching him. “Fuck—!” With a splash, you get a face full of river water.

Hobie immediately jumps to the side to not squash you and drown you in two feet of water. His eyes are full of worry when you emerge coughing. He almost lets go of the rod to tend to you, but your smile and guffaw has relief flowing through him.

“How big is it?!” You ask, entirely drenched.

He gently wipes your face, calloused palms over your soft skin, fingers carefully wiping away a piece of grass stuck on your cheek. You close your eyes, letting him hold you.

Hobie inhales and drinks you in— he still loves you. It's always been there, his love for you, but he refuses to acknowledge it with what he knows just before he left, with what *he said before he took a slice at his neck. Hobie still dreams of you, still dreams of saying those three words again, he's a fool to bury the feeling, especially when you're in front of him again— close to him again, loving him again.

He has no idea what to do now, other than to stand up and give you a helping hand.

—

Hobie's been silent and you have no idea why. You warm yourself on the fire he built, the fish you both caught is now cooking wonderfully on the open fire. The river's currents are a lot stronger now, so it's a lot harder to catch anything without getting carried by it. Your clothes are slowly drying as you wring your sleeves free of water.

“Cherry.” You suddenly break the silence. “I think I'll name her cherry.”

Hobie sits across you again, gazing at you through warmer eyes. “Why cherry?”

“Because horses love fruit, and cherry is a fruit.”

“Brilliant thinkin’ love, horses definitely eat cherries.” He says in a sarcastic tone.

You furrow your brows, “wait, they don't?”

He blinks, “Huh, ‘m actually not sure. Maybe if you take out the pits and cut it in half?”

“That’s…that's plausible, they contain cyanide though.”

“Maybe we should ask them?”

“What?” You chortle, and Hobie cups his hands to yell at the horses.

“Oi! D’you lot eat cherries?” They only stare at him. “Guess not.” You laugh, he finds it infectious so he also does.

“Horses can't talk, Hobs.” You say in between giggles.

“You never know, I might be a horse whisperer.” His smile falters, and you frown at the sudden shift. “‘m sorry for yellin’ at you.” His voice is soft under the cackle of the fire. “I shouldn't have yelled.”

“Apology accepted.” Your nerves calm down, beaming at him, scooching closer to him until your knees grazes his own. He doesn't move away, even nudging your shoulder with a faint smile. “I'm sorry for making you spend so much. But thank you for the nice clothes, and being— just…kind.”

Hobie reaches for your hand slowly, your breath is in your throat, freezing you un place. His pinky brushes along your palm when a twig snaps Hobie quickdraws his gun.

“Who's there?! Show yourself or I'll fuckin' shoot.” Standing up, he hides you with his own body.

You also stand up, hand wrapping around the barrel of the rifle that was leaning next to you. Both yours and Hobie's hearts thump loudly with trepidation. The bush moves and out comes two men brandishing their own weapons. They dress like gentlemen, but their sneers say they are not.

“We came out to piss and we find the spider of the west, guess we're just lucky.” The one with a scar across his nose says, voice scratchy, nudging his companion. “And would you look at that?”

“You’ve found yourself a pretty companion, Hobart, one that has a very high bounty on her head.” The other finishes his partner's sentence. His mustache is all twirly at the end, golden tooth shining in the sun. “Y’know, sweetheart, the whole country's after ya.” You don't falter in your stance.

“With both of your bounties combined, we're aimin’ at ten thousand dollars right now.” The scarred man chuckles.

“Ten thousand?” Hobie whistles, “Can we bring ourselves in instead?” You snort, still aiming at the man's head.

“If only that was possible, Hobart.” The man gives you a twisted smile.

“Are you lawmen?” You ask, “Or pinkertons? You two don't look like either of them.”

“What do we look like then, sweetheart?” The mustachioed man taunts with a toothy smile. “A couple of handsome cowboys?”

“A bunch of dead men.” You push Hobie away, kicking hot coals in their faces, embers flying, smoke filling their lungs. While they're both distracted and yelling at the searing heat— Hobie fans the hammer of his gun, shooting all six bullets into each man's bodies until their lifeless corpses fall atop each other.

“I've seen better.” You stand next to Hobie as he checks for something in their pockets. Their blood slowly spread to the tips of his boots. “What are you doing?”

Hobie rubs a hand across his face, “Lawmen,” he raises the identification papers he found. “We need to go. Pack the fish.”

“But they're dead?” You ask but you still do what you're told.

“Lawmen are like rats, if there's two ‘ere, there's a dozen more near us, hidden under the crevices.” He walks near the banks, head downturned, eyes scanning the plants. “And they've got their noses on us now.”

“Where are you going?” You stand, wrapped fish in your arms. “Hobie!” You start to yell when he has walked a few ways away from you.

Hobie crouches down, hunting knife digging into the soil. You watch him take a bushel of grass, he walks back and now you get a closer look at what he's carrying. You thought your eyes are deceiving you, instead of the familiar green hue, the plant is pink, a very bright shade. There's still dirt clinging to the stems when Hobie carefully covers it with a handkerchief.

“That's oleander, Hobie.” You stare at him, concerned. “And that many could kill a fucking elephant.”

“I know, you taught me, remember?” You nod as shoves it inside your messenger bag. He pauses at the sight of the bundle of letters, then he dismisses them, closing the bag. “It might come in handy.”

“What's your plan?” You're terrified.

“We head to a train station.” He sighs, completely winded, and worried for your safety. “Bounty hunters and outlaws I can manage, but them?” He points at the two bodies. “They've got more resources than either group, and more people in their pocket.”

“Wouldn't that be obvious? Riding the train? We can handle them, just like we always have—”

“They hate my guts more than anyone, Y/N, and they don't fear me as much as bounty hunters or outlaws.”

“But a train…” you shudder. “We'll be in the south in a few days instead of weeks— that's quick, too quick…I don't—” I don't want to leave. “I can't.”

“You wanted the scenic route, right?” He starts to unhitch the horses. “It's the last place they'll look for thinking that we'll be traveling by our lonesome out on the backroads.”

“Yes, but—”

“Nothing’s more scenic than a train ride. C’mon, love, get on Cherry. Before more come out of hidin’”

You nod, tears threatening to spill out. Walking around the corpses, you get on Cherry with a far away look in your eyes. “To the train station then.”

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judesmoonbeauty · 22 hours

Text

Roger Barel’s PV: Initial Thoughts

After watching Roger’s PV, I have so many things to say, and no not just about Vogel. This will contain route spoilers to Ellis route, so it’ll be below the cut.

Pared Down Overall PV Synopsis: About a week into her fairytale keeper duties, Vogel visits Crown and starts stirring things up. She is acting as Roger’s assistant, and apparently there’s a warrant for his arrest. First and foremost, look at our guys. They look AMAZING as they square off with Vogel:

Sorry if the image is crappy, but oh well. Anyway, while it’s exciting to start a new chapter in IkeVil, I’m also kind of……what’s the word……not sad, but possessive (?)….. over our guys. Putting my marriage to Jude aside, I’m speaking about the guys as a whole. True, they aren’t going anywhere and it’s nice to progress towards new curses and territory, but wow, I’m feeling a little bit possessive over our guys. It’s like they are PEAK to me. They set the bar, and then these new guys roll in. I’m not quite sure how to put my finger on it. Am I crazy here or….?

A part from that, it’s nice to see Harry being featured. Apparently, Vogel is devious and obviously sus, so his ability will come on handy! I read that Nica likes money and power, potential Jude admirer, rival?

Ring is apparently Darius’ puppet. Why? Why him and not both he and his twin??

Ok, next:

We all know Roger will do anything and everything to find a way to break their curses, that includes betraying Crown. In Ellis’ route, he openly discusses their curses with Ellis’ father Matthew, and Kate is taken aback basically wondering, “Whoa, bro can you do that?!” So, it wouldn’t surprise me if he essentially betrays Crown and England while joining hands with Vogel. Which leads me to Victor. He looks hurt to me in the PV (most likely because of Roger’s betrayal if that’s the case.) Either way, we know just how much he cares about the Crown boys. And honestly, for as cheerful as he is, he is the loneliest imo. I got those vibes from him in a recent CE story where he tells Kate, he’s afraid of it all ending (his relationship with Crown). The point I’m making with that is if Roger betrays Crown and it starts to crumble inside out, Victor is essentially losing his family. And that hurts my little heart.

This scene:

So much could be happening. Did he betray Kate??? Or is this the moment when he betrayed Ellis’ cursed predecessor, thus making him semi-protective of Ellis?? I’d love to know. That question has been burning in my mind since I read Ellis’ route. What were the circumstances and why did you betray that person, causing them to be shot to death??

Just some quick thoughts. Can’t wait to learn more!!

#IkeVil #IkeVil JP #IkeVil JP spoilers #ikemen villains spoilers #IkeVil roger #roger barel

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acid-ixx · 3 days

Note

Ghost-Anon here!! 😋

Ooof the new chapter was good! I especially loved the part where Dick goes kinda nuts after Reader blocked him (as deserved :p ) more so I’m so excited for Yandere!Damian too xD

hii !! tysm for enjoying the first chapter ^^ i was afraid that i wrote dick's descent to madness too quick but then i realized that "oh yeah it's literally dick we are talking about, times where he is at his limits are times where he lets the emotions control him." dick really does love his family, as proved in the comic panels i have read, and I don't like how most other comics picture him as just this silly guy who never gets mad at anyone.

he had his immense bouts of anger and frustration, it would be worse if it was caused by you, directly or not. the thing is, he understands where you're coming from. one of the things about dick grayson is that everyone loves him but himself. he has flaws that take a lot to fix, and they simply worsen when it comes to you because he had caused the same mistake bruce has committed. he was the same guy who criticized his own father for his mistakes, angered by jason's death and killing the joker after tim's own 'jokerfication' and yet he had never once noticed your demons, he allowed the world to take you away and destroy you; a crime greater than anything he could imagine.

the worst thing was, he was the same brother who had led your hopes high and crashed it at the same time. dick is the man who was described to be giving empty promises to you. it's bad enough that bruce had never even known about your presence, had never once talked to you, but dick had every opportunity to grab because truly, you saw him as your favorite before anyone else. everyone praised dick and you wanted the same praise from the next thing closer than your father— and he failed because he never tried, he failed his cute, little baby bird.

he knows that he needs to make it up to you before it gets worse but he also doesn't know that it's already too late.

you don't see him as the dick grayson. you don't see him in any positive light anymore other than the sheepish grins he would give you right after he rejects your offers.

if he wasn't so damn stupid, then you would've been there with him, at the mansion flipping through movies, pranking each other, throwing flour at one another when you bake, decorating your next diary entry with him.

and he needs to experience all that because you're the only normalcy that life has to offer. he momentarily relishes in the fact that you think so highly of him, but he breaks at the same time because all your other diary entries began to paint them all as your demons.

dick would ward the monsters away from you, he promises.

and this time, he genuinely means it.

i am so excited for yan! damian too! i wrote his character to be terrible towards you (he doesn't know he's self-projecting lmao) but i had hinted in one paragraph of his relationship with the reader. you see, most of his feelings towards you may have stemmed from some sort of jealousy, or the feel the need for competition. he had already fought tim before, it's only right that you get to experience the same pain— and i'm not expanding on this because then it would spoil the future chapters hehe, but i'll be giving one small spoiler and say that damian would go through some sort of immense, internal breakdown at the thought of you.

#🍨... yael's talking #series: again & again #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere damian wayne #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x gn reader #yandere x male reader #platonic yandere

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empty-vessel-of-a-person · 11 hours

Text

My General Thoughts of Sylus Introduction.

* It's A Big Surprise but all in all, it's a good surprise because we get another hot guy.

* Appearance wise, Sylus is a very hot guy.. He truly is. But, unlike when I First see Zayne and Caleb, I don't feel any spark for him... I think I'm wired differently.

* I cannot judge his personality yet, but I am kinda worried about my sanity.

* I'm excited to interact with Sylus. The adrenaline of dating the villain feels so daring.

* We know that at some point , Rafayel and Xavier will have direct interaction with him because they are both at the Nest during chapter 8. But how about Zayne? Will we have to fight against Sylus on the upcoming chapters as well? There's too many questions on my mind now and that's what keeps me excited to play the game everyday...

* Lastly, there is a post on Twitter that had me worried. I have never played an otome game before so it really kinda bothers me. Some theorized that one of the original 3 boys might disappear when Sylus enters.. Is this possible? Do games really do that? Please give my mind peace...

What are your thoughts about Sylus? Will you break up with your current man for him? Someone on Twitter says she will.

#love and deepspace #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #xavier #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #sylus #sylus love and deepspace

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honeytama · 1 day

Text

Make Your Move - Chapter 4

Noah Sebastian x Reader x Matt Dierkes

A/N: I love this chapter so much! Enjoy! Also, a part of this chapter was inspired by this (read after if you prefer no spoilers)

Fic Summary: Find in Fic Masterlist

Content and Warnings for Ch. 4: Fluff (some v cheesy), some suggestive content, a date?, Matt’s POV included

Word Count: 3k

Tag List: @xxkittenkissesxx @exitwoundsx @jilliemiw86 @abiomens @lma1986

@flowery-mess @doomhands-jr @rain-down-on-me @justdamnpeachy @thatchickwiththecamera @narcissisticbehavior81

You sat alone at the back of the tour bus thinking; watching towns pass you by out of the window.

“You have to choose,” Folio advised.

You hated that you didn’t feel that same. What’s so wrong with liking them both? You think. Although, you knew there were only two options, choose one or have neither.

There was Matt: your best friend, your long-time crush, he was safe, protective, and funny, but also cocky, unpredictable, and your boss.

And Noah: he was new, your celebrity crush that took interest in you, he was caring, and a sweetheart, but at the same time, you felt that he and you would only happen in a fantasy.

This wasn’t a decision you wanted to make.

A knock on the wall of the doorway brings you out of your thoughts. You turn and Matt is leaning against it.

“You thinkin’ about me?” he teases.

“Yeah, actually,” you laugh, “I’m plotting to overthrow you as lead tour manager. Nick and Jolly have already signed my petition.”

“Shut up,” he shakes his head and comes to sit next to you. “What’s actually on your mind?”

You wish you could tell him in the same way you share everything else with him, but you decide to devise a half-truth.

“I was thinking about our lives back at home,” you say. “Your barbeque made me realize how much I missed playing with your dogs in your backyard while you cooked for me.”

“That’s adorable,” he smiles. “I’ll admit, I was reminiscing, too. I was thinking about how back at home we’d have sleepovers with Boo at your apartment and just watch movies all night. I miss that; when it was just you and me.”

Your heart flutters. “I can’t believe the number of hours of Lord of the Rings you’ve convinced me to watch,” you reach over and your fingers pass over his wrist along his One Ring tattoo. “I wish we were back home, sometimes.”

Matt’s smile diminishes and his tone gets serious, “Are you feeling homesick?” He catches your fingers that admire his tattoos and holds your hand in his.

“I haven’t thought about it until now, but yeah,” you admit. Matt rubs his thumb over your palm as you talk. “I guess we’ve been so busy that I haven’t gotten to really focus on my feelings in a week.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says. He meets your gaze and continues, “I’m here for you whenever you need me.”

“Thank you, Matty,” you breathe.

“Always,” he smiles and your heart melts.

“On a less serious note, I need to talk to you about something,” you straighten your back and let go of Matt’s hand.

“What is it?” His eyebrows raise and he tucks his hair behind his ears.

“What’s this about you telling the guys about,” you lower your voice, “me planning to touch myself on the bus?”

“Oh, okay, listen,” his cheeks turn pink. A sight you rarely see on Matt’s face. “I promise you I just told Folio! If he told anyone else, then that’s out of my hands.”

“Matt, why?” You whine, pushing him lightly in the chest.

“I thought it would help if he knew so that he’d know to give you more privacy,” he defends. “Folio is the nosiest fucker here and sometimes he likes to open our bunk curtains without warning.”

“So, you’re saying he’s caught you…,” You make a motion with your hand in front of your sweatpants, inspired by Folio himself. “Look at you, Matt, breaking your own rules.”

“No! Never,” he frowns and shakes his head. You watch him put a pillow from the side of the couch in his lap.

Was he turned on by this conversation? You think and bite your lip.

“Well, I promise you I won’t do it again,” you smirk and pat the pillow in his lap.

“Again?” He raises his voice. “Y/N, you’re going to kill me. If I have to hear you sinning below me, then I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” You cock your head to the side.

“I’ll think of something,” he nods his head with a sparkle in his eye. You two laugh together, and it dies off into silence until Matt speaks again.

“Speaking of Folio,” Matt starts, cautiously, “I overheard you talking with him last night.”

“What?” You ask. Suddenly, your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest and your head feels light.

“I heard you tell him that you like Noah,” he says plainly.

“Matt, I’m so sorry,” you say apologetically. “He’s your friend. I shouldn’t be feeling this way.”

Matt puts his arm on the back of the couch behind you. “Y/N, it’s okay.”

“You don’t have to say that,” you shake your head.

“I mean it. Actually,” he pauses, “I kind of had an inkling that you liked him. Y’all have been getting close these past few months. I understand. Also, I kind of figured it would happen eventually. It’s pretty normal for people to have feelings for Noah. He’s a great guy.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask.

“Well, I didn’t want to keep it from you; it would make me feel gross.” Matt takes a deep breath before continuing, “Also, you're my friend and I want you to be happy, so I want you to know that I approve if you choose to pursue him.”

This surprises you. He wanted you to just date Noah? Even though Matt never shared it, you always held hope that Matt would have feelings for you too. You found it slightly upsetting that he didn’t feel the same way you did about him, but you find it best to show your appreciation of him by letting you tell Noah how you feel. “That’s sweet of you, Matt, thank you,” you smile.

“Again, I’m always looking out for you,” he repeats.

“Matt, you said you heard Folio and I talking last night,” you say, carefully. “Did you happen to hear me say anything else?”

“Nope, nothing,” Matt says, fixing his hat. He gets up from his seat, “I almost forgot I have to talk with Jolly about something for tonight. I’ll see you later?”

“See you…” You say as he walks off to the front of the bus.

—

MATT’S POV

I lay in the dark in my bunk. I usually would fall asleep right after my nightly shower, but not tonight.

I wish I had though.

She didn’t want me to hear her, but I did. I could overhear Y/N telling Folio that she likes me, and Noah. I had the thought that she liked Noah, and that’s why I sent them to the grocery store together for our barbeque. However, her feelings for me, I must be a dumbass because she stunned me with that confession.

My perception of our relationship is strictly friendship. I enjoy teasing her and flirting with her because it makes me feel proud that I could make her laugh. Yet, I can’t deny that I don’t enjoy being in her presence; she’s loyal, funny, and absolutely gorgeous.

I spent an hour thinking about my feelings for her: whether they were romantic or if I liked her as my friend. Regardless of my feelings, I wanted what was best for her. Noah could be that.

Before she came to bed, Folio told her that she should choose between Noah and me.

As her friend, I’ve figured that it’s best to make her life, and mine, easier and decide for her.

—

One normal touring day has passed and tonight, Bad Omens have just played a show at Roadrunner in Boston, Massachusetts. The next two days in Boston would be your first off days since beginning the tour and you thought, with Matt’s blessing, you could ask Noah out on a date.

You patiently wait for him to come off stage in Bad Omen’s green room in hopes of telling him how you feel tonight.

As you anxiously bounce your leg, the door is pushed open by Nick and the rest of the guys follow into the room.

“Y/N, you’re awake!” Nick jokes about the nap you took on the first night of the tour.

“That was one time!” You laugh.

“How’d we do?” Noah asks.

“Amazing, as always,” you praise with a smile. “Actually, Noah, can I talk to you outside once you’re ready?”

The rest of the guys leave the room after gathering their things and head to the venue showers.

“Yeah, of course, I wanted to talk to you about something, too.” He grins and grabs his backpack. “I’ll be quick.”

—

Noah stands before you behind the venue. His damp hair shines underneath the street lights. He waits for you to speak, anticipating what you requested to talk to him about.

“So, uhm,” you stutter. His casual clothing seemed to cause you to short-circuit. He smiles down at you in his black Hereditary hoodie, shorts, and crew socks and slides.

“I could start first?” He suggests.

“Yeah, you go,” you smile.

“So, uh,” he flusters the same as you, “I wanted to talk to you a few nights ago after the barbecue. Do you remember?”

“Yeah, I apologize that I never got back to you.”

“It's okay, I have you here now,” he runs his hand through his hair. “I wanted to tell you about how I feel about you. I can’t stop thinking about you even when I’m on stage or when I’m trying to sleep at night.” He gives you his full attention, waiting for your response to his confession.

“That’s why I asked you out here,” you smile up at him. “I wanted to tell you the same thing. I like you, Noah.”

He smiles at the ground and looks back up at you with a tint in his cheeks.

“And, since we’re off tomorrow and the next day, I was wondering if I could take you out on a date? Just you and me to have some fun away from everyone?” You ask nervously.

His eyes widen in surprise. “Yes, tomorrow, for sure,” he shifts his weight on his feet in excitement. “Do you mind if I plan it?”

—

This morning you had got ready for your date on the bus. Noah and you stole knowing glances at each other as you passed each other in the hallway. You finally got to put on a cute outfit outside of your assistant tour manager ‘uniform’: a Bad Omens Crew tee and jeans.

Now, you're sitting in the passenger seat of Noah’s rental car on your way to someplace in Boston; Noah said it was a surprise. His right hand is on your bare thigh while his left nonchalantly controls the steering wheel.

You play with your hands in your lap, thinking about his compliment to you on your first date look. “I know where we’re going, but I swear I won’t be able to take my eyes off of you,” he had said while opening your car door for you.

“We’re here,” he announces as you pull up to a giant building and he makes his way to go park.

You mentally read the large, drapery signs on the front of the building, Museum of Fine Art Boston.

Your heart leaps realizing his compliment meant that he would rather look at you all day than fine art. Noah. You look at him excitedly, practically bouncing in your seat.

“I bought us tickets right after you asked me out,” he blushes. He unclicks his seatbelt once you're parked and heads to your side of the car to open your door.

—

You snuck glances at Noah as you walked side by side on the marble floors through the exhibits. His first date outfit did not go unnoticed by you.

It’s a combination of his stage presence and the casual outfits you see him wearing around the tour bus. A clean, classic white tee tucked into black, pressed dress pants, paired with a shiny, black belt, and white slip-on Vans. His hair is perfectly done, too.

He’s so handsome. I can’t believe I’m here with him, you think.

“Y/N, this is you,” you hear him call you over. He strayed from you while you were thinking about how good he looked. You walk over to him standing in front of a piece of a gorgeous woman solemnly looking out of a window. “When we’re driving to our next show. You just look out the window like this,” he puts his fist on his chin and looks off, dazed.

“What else am I supposed to do?” You laugh.

“Well, you also do your hobbies,” Noah laughs and gazes into your eyes, “I love to watch you crochet, read, write on your laptop… Either way, you look wonderful.”

You lead him off to the next piece, “I didn’t know you’ve been watching me.”

“I’ve been thinking about you this way since you stepped through the door at our studio back in Los Angeles,” he admits. His fingers brush yours as you stand in front of a gilded, ornately framed painting, “I haven’t been able to get you off of my mind since.”

With shy eyes, Noah looks down at your hands and takes your fingers in his, lacing them together. It feels as if fireworks are being shot off in your chest. He gives you a more confident, toothy smile when you begin to pull him off into another exhibit hall.

You two spend the next three hours chatting about your personal lives and getting to know each other better, while also making each other laugh. Noah let his silly side out in front of you, more than usual, and you had to continuously remind him to quiet down since the museum employees were giving you both looks.

He would ask if he could take pictures of you in front of his favorite pieces and you would take secret photos of him looking pensively at those same works of art. You two did take some selfies together by the end of the date for memory's sake.

As anticipated, he did embarrass you a couple of times,

“Smile for the camera!”

“Look at how pretty you look!”

“I don’t know him,” you’d whisper and walk away to make him laugh.

You would make up stories and scenarios about what was going on in different sculptures and paintings, and he would rate your stories for you, one through ten.

All in all, you left the museum with him with his hand in yours, feeling like you just experienced a post on Pinterest in real life.

—

Back on the tour bus from the museum, Noah and you found yourselves alone. You figured the other guys were out getting lunch.

Reluctant to end the date early, you two sat on the leather couch at the front of the bus and chatted.

Eventually, Noah asks how you’ve been doing on tour.

“So, how has the tour been treating you? You’re doing fantastic, by the way,” he praises.

“Things are going so well,” you smile. “But to be honest, I thought you were kidding about feeling down when we first talked a few months ago,” you say. “I’ll admit I’m starting to feel homesick.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he holds your hand. “Is there anything that’s been helping you?”

“Our date, today was amazing! I got out of my head. I’ve been talking with Matt about being homesick, too,” you say carefully. “I’ve also found myself listening to ‘If I’m There’ more often. Especially, since I’ve been feeling alone,” you laugh sheepishly.

“Do you remember when we talked about it when we first met? Are you ready to share?” He asks cautiously.

“Yeah, uhm,” you look down at your feet. “Don’t laugh.”

He scoots in a bit closer to you, “Never.”

“I like to imagine that there’s someone out there who’s just for me to call upon whenever I need help. Sometimes I feel so lonely, that I’m trapped in my head and still in those terrifying spaces from my past that I’ve tried so hard to escape. And then, when I listen to your music, I feel like I’m not alone anymore. I would imagine that it’s really you singing to me,” you laugh timidly, but you feel tears well up. “Do you remember when you said you would play it for me?” You ask him with glossy eyes.

“Wait here,” Noah says before scrambling off the couch and out the front door.

A couple of minutes later, Noah returns with his acoustic guitar in his hand and takes a seat right where he was before. “Of course, I remember.”

He looks at you and takes a breath before softly singing,

“There are scars that'll never ever show themselves You get when you're left alone too long in Hell They tried to keep in the secrets that you wouldn't tell But they just stripped you for parts you had to sell.”

—

MATT’S POV

I heard that Noah and Y/N had got back from their date and I headed toward the tour bus to ask her how it went as a supportive friend.

As I approached the door, I could hear a familiar song being played but was muffled by the bus walls.

I stopped in my tracks and let go of the door handle.

“Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall You'll have a friend down in Hell after all.”

I was overhearing something I didn’t want to, again. It was Noah…singing to Y/N.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian #matt dierkes #matt dierkes x reader #bad omens fanfiction

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facewithoutheart · 2 days

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Thanks for the tags @monbons & @rimeswithpurple ❤️

I’ve finally finished the first draft of my COBB which feels super good. For once, I’m not doing a multi-chapter fic but I’m pleased with how it turned out. It needs a bit of finessing at the end so I’m going to let it sit for awhile. Come back when it’s closer to posting time for last minute tweaks.

Have some cute goat content:

Simon shrugged one shoulder. “Who can say? But he’s been loved. That’s what counts.” He placed the goat gently on the ground and the little thing scrambled away, bleating like a banshee at the kids who had yet to take flight. “Of course he’s also been a right bastard. Maybe that counts more.”

Cute/deranged, same thing.

Song vibes if you need them:

Tags & original fiction thoughts below the break.

I also spent some time making piccrews of my OCs. I only like to write original fiction about love triangles with two men and a woman so here, meet Hawk, Gabriel & Zoe:

Shout out to my brown eye peeps although I forgot Hawk actually has hazel eyes. WHOOPS. We’re just gonna pretend he has flecks of green sprinkles in there that only Gabriel can see. And yes Zoe is that hot on purpose. She’s a messy bitch and I love her.

One thing I’ve been thinking about lately is the theory that words written are not words wasted. As in, don’t regret the things you wrote that aren’t published or make it into the final piece. And I’ve had to adopt that for fanfic to original writing because sometimes it’s hard looking at my, frankly ridiculous, back catalog and wonder if it wasn’t all worthless. Because in the end I spent all that time and energy writing someone else’s stories.

But this is a fruitless and, frankly, untrue line of thinking. I’ve spent years honing my ability to write plot and setting and dialogue and action and messy situations. Sure, I’ve been using someone else’s characters and outline to do so, but the skills transfer even if they do also require new ones. I would never have had the courage to take on messy characters for a romance novel if I hadn’t written Boulders or This Charming Man. These two fics directly inspired my original idea.

So I’m kind of sitting around feeling really … grateful? I guess? That I’ve taken this time, I’ve written these words, and I’ve stretched these muscles. Writing an original novel is something I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid and it feels really good to be working on one again, especially after my rather demoralizing attempt at NaNoWriMo in 2022.

Which is all just to say I’m having a good time, and all your efforts are not wasted, and does this make any sense? Maybe not entirely. And maybe you’ve skimmed it but maybe this is also something that will resonate with one of you all.

Okay now. Tagging @martsonmars, @sillyunicorn, @bookish-bogwitch, @thewholelemon, @raenestee, @cutestkilla, @skeedelvee, @artsyunderstudy, @palimpsessed, @aristocratic-otter, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @stitchyqueer, @run-for-chamo-miles, @larkral, @whogaveyoupermission, @moodandmist, @mooncello, @creepyspice, @ivelovedhimthroughworse & @shrekgogurt

#snowbaz #fanfic #original fiction #swept away #Cobb 2024 #writing #WIPsday #WIP Wednesday

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imagines--galore · 3 days

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||The Thread of Fate|| Part Twenty-Eight

Summary: Soulmate AU. They say the Thread of Fate connects you to your one true love. It may tangle. It may stretch. But it will never break. Wrapped around your little finger it tightens when it feels your soulmate is close and loosens when they are far. And becomes visible with the colors of your soulmate’s Nation when you finally fall in love with them.

Pairing: Zuko x OroraOC (ATLA)

Rating || Genres || Warnings: T+ Romance. Adventure.

Previous Chapters - Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen, Part Twenty, Part Twenty-One, Part Twenty-Two, Twenty-Three, Twenty Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six, Twenty-Seven

A/N: This was a roller coaster of emotions let me tell you!

"Well it looks healed enough. But it will leave a scar." Katara stated as she straightened up from examining Orora's burn. The older girl sighed before nodding at the sympathetic look she received from the other girl.

"I figured as much." She muttered, sitting up from where she had been lying on the bed. Toph sat across from her on another bed, while Sokka and Aang stood at the doorway, leaning against either of the wall. "Its better if you share with Toph for now." Katara added to which the blind girl nodded.

Her feet were still elevated. "I don't mind. Means Ice Princess can give me healing sessions and I'll be up and seeing in no time." She raised a hand in Katara's direction. "No offense Sugar Queen, but when it comes to healing Orora here is more of an expert."

Katara shrugged. "No, I agree with you. She has been doing this a lot longer then I am." Orora smiled at the compliment, before her eyes shifted towards Sokka who was frowning, as if he were deep in thought.

"You alright there Sokka?" She said, startling the boy out of his stupor. "If you think any harder you're gonna hurt yourself." Though everyone smiled or chuckled lightly at the joke, Sokka didn't join in. Pursing his lips he contemplated briefly if he should speak his mind before doing just that. "No, I was just wandering if you'll be alright."

Orora frowned though a smile of confusion stayed on her face. "I'll be alright. You heard Katara, all these wounds will heal and-"

Aang stepped forward, cutting her off. "That is not what he means Orora." The boy glanced at Sokka who nodded before continuing. "He means Zuko."

The smile fell from her lips, her eyes casting down to the ground. Her hands rested just next to her thighs, allowing her to gently grip the soft bedding underneath. "What we're asking is," Aang continued, ignoring the way Katara's face turned especially dark at hearing the name of their new team member. "Are you alright with him joining our team? We know how much his betrayal effected you, and we don't want you to feel weird about the whole situation."

Toph nodded. "Yeah, say the word and I'll throw him off the nearest cliff and make it look like an accident." Though her words were spoken in jest, Orora couldn't help but flinch as her mind conjured the image of him doing just that not even an hour ago.

Her heart and mind still couldn't comprehend just how easily he could've died.

Something she could examine later, the waterbender promised herself, as she lifted her head to look at each of her friends one at a time.

"Truthfully, I'm not thrilled that he's here." She revealed. "I'm still mad at him for what he did, and I guess I will be until he's proven himself. I don't know." She shook her head, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts.

Her gaze met Aang's. "You need to learn firebending to defeat the Fire Lord, and having Zuko on our side is a tactical advantage as well." She had to look at all of this in a pragmatic way. Keep her feelings out of it, that was the best course of plan.

"If Zuko's being here means we have a chance to end this war, then I am not going to let what he did to me get in the way of that."

Silence followed her words, before Toph grinned. "See, I told you she would say that." Orora looked at her in confusion, but was distracted by Aang reaching out and placing a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you Orora." He said, smiling at her.

The older girl smiled back, reaching up to squeeze his hand in return. Katara simply gave a nod before walking out of the room. Sokka watched his sister go before looking back at Orora's worried expression. "Don't worry. She'll be fine." He reassured her.

Then he grinned and walked to her to lightly punch her shoulder. "Its great to have you back Orora."

She nodded, returning his smile. "Good to be back."

————————–

Since she was still recovering, Orora was put on bed rest.

Per her own orders.

Toph was forced to do the same, yet neither of the girls were complaining. It gave them time to catch up and just chat. Sokka had come by earlier and dropped off Orora's things, which she was currently going through.

Since the area around her stomach and waist had to be cut and was also burned off, she had to stitch it up. And already an idea to sew a waistband to cover herself up was forming in her head. Luckily she still had some cloth leftover from creating the lining of her shirt. It was a light blue so it should be good enough. Cutting the fabric to the length she wanted it to be, Orora listened as Toph explained what had happened after their return to the main Invasion Force.

"Then they piled us kids on Appa and we came here. Nothing much to tell." The blind girl concluded, playing with her space rock as she laid back on her bed, one arm behind her head. "Not as interesting as what happened to you I should say."

Orora shook her head as she threaded a needle. "I was wandering when you'd ask that." She muttered under her breath, though loud enough for Toph to hear her. "Oh come on, you're telling me nothing happened?" She asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

Successfully pulling the needle through the small hole, Orora began to sew. "Other then him bandaging me up and bringing me here? No, nothing at all."

Toph laughed softly as she shook her head. "You know I can tell when people are lying right?" She stated gleefully.

Orora stabbed herself with her needle.

————————–

Having gotten all of his stuff and a room assigned to him, Zuko turned his attention to the water skins and belt Orora had left behind. No time like the present to bring it to her then, he thought to himself, picking up her things and walking out of his room. It was still light out, but the evening was fast approaching.

Locating where Orora was staying was easy. He just had to follow his string. It was always taut now that they were almost constantly near one another.

"-ave you told him yet?" He heard Orora's voice as he neared the room.

"I haven't exactly had the time. Between getting our butts kicked and worrying about you, I didn't think it was appropriate to drop the bomb on him about us being soulmates." Zuko paused. Maybe this wasn't the right time to disturb them.

But then he didn't walk away either.

Instead he stopped where he was, just a few steps away from the open doorway, leaning against the wall so even his shadow couldn't be seen. He was lucky Toph couldn't feel him standing there.

"Well, you're not getting your butt kicked now, and I'm back, safe and sound, so you better get to it young lady."

He heard Toph snort. "What're you my mother?"

"Would you rather Katara be on your case then?" Zuko could picture the look Orora was giving the earthbender when she said that.

Silence.

"Alright, you have a point. But can't he come up and talk to me about it?"

"Toph, he's probably just shy. One of you has to take the first step, and I'm urging that you do." He heard Orora respond.

"Is that what happened with you and Zuko?" The sudden shift in conversation nearly had him dropping what he was holding. "My situation with Zuko was complicated. Trust me, you're getting a very simple story to finding your soulmate, so take it."

The word complicated couldn't even begin to describe how strange their soulmate journey had been so far, Zuko thought to himself, frowning to himself.

"You get two stories though don't you?" Toph said. "And in both those stories he saves you."

"I saved him once too." Orora cut in, and Zuko briefly recalled how she had pulled him out of the way to avoid getting burned by the lightning during the storm on top of that mountain all those months. "But, hey who's counting." He heard Orora sigh. "Toph just, ask what you want to ask." She said a hint of exasperation in her tone that anyone could've picked up on.

"I'm just wandering how your story is going to end, that's all."

Zuko felt himself freeze. His eyes widened and he felt his heart give a particularly painful thump before it resumed it's normal rhythm. No one spoke from within the room for a good few seconds.

But then he heard Orora.

"I don't know."

"Have you forgiven him for what he did?"

Agni, he knew how this conversation was going to go. Placing the water skins and belt on the floor to be collected by Orora later, he turned.

And with a heavy heart, he walked back to his room.

Completely missing the rest of the conversation.

————————–

"No. At least, not completely."

"And will you forgive him? Given time, as he proves himself and helps us?

"I....don't know."

————————–

Once the bandage was in place, Orora tied the waist belt she had sewn the previous night, around her waist. The material ruched naturally once she tied it at the side of her waist, the one that wasn't bandaged of course.

Glancing at Toph and smiling at the girl as she snored away, Orora rose to her feet, intent on starting the day and ask Katara what are duties would be around the camp. It was best if she kept busy, she mused to herself, slipping her shoes onto her feet. Once everything was in order she moved to step out of the room.

Only to step on something.

Looking down she was met with the familiar sight of her belt and water skins. Frowning she picked them up. There was really no need to wander who had left them there.

Zuko.

Why hadn't he come in and given them to her?

More importantly, why did it bother her that he hadn't given them to her himself?

Shaking her head and briefly stepping back into her room to toss the items on her just made bed, the girl pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

————————–

Katara and her were the first ones to arrive. The younger girl insisted that she could handle breakfast, forcing Orora to just sit down and relax, while also wait for the others to appear.

And they did.

Teo wheeled in first, grinning at Orora and waving at her. The older girl waved back. Next to step in was Aang, who rubbed his eyes, yawning as he slumped on the floor beside Orora.

And promptly fell against her shoulder as he fell asleep again, snoring lightly with Momo curling up in his lap.

The older girl smiled down at Aang while Katara shook her head at her soulmate's antics. Haru and The Duke were next to walk in. Both of them greeted everyone before taking their place in the circle as well, with Haru sitting next to Orora.

Appa growled from where he waited for his breakfast just beyond the clearing where they sat, prompting The Duke to leave his post of helping Katara hand out bowls of rice and make sure Appa had his hay. Sokka finally arrived carrying Toph. He set her down on a broken column before taking his bowl of rice and began shoveling the food down his throat.

The last one to arrive was Zuko.

Which was funny since he was the first one away, what with the tendency to rise with the sun and all.

She'd picked up on his habits as well as his Uncle during their stay in Ba Sing Se.

He accepted his breakfast bowl from The Duke and once he sat down on Aang's other side, began to eat. Orora kept her gaze trained towards her bowl of rice, her chopsticks held firmly in between her fingers as she did.

"So, what do you think?"

A voice drifted through her train of thought muffled and yet it pulled her back from whatever she had just begun to think. Raising her head, she blinked at Haru who was looking at her and smiling.

"Sorry, I wasn't listening. About what?" The earthbender smile before repeating himself. "I just asked if you'd like a tour of the Temple. We've found some pretty cool things."

"Oh." She paused, looking at him before glancing back at her food and cleared her throat. "That sounds fun. Maybe later?" She suggested to which Haru nodded, prompting Teo to speak up from where he had just finished his breakfast. "This is an amazing Temple! Better then the one we lived in. The Duke just found something really fun yesterday, and we can't wait to show you."

————————–

From where he sat next to Zuko, Sokka had a pretty good view of what was going on.

And this is what he noticed.

He noticed how Orora's smile appeared strained, as if she were forcing her muscles to pull upwards.

He noticed how Haru's shoulders slumped, probably at the thought that his plan to show Orora around alone had just fallen through since Teo and The Duke would want to tag along as well.

He also noticed, how Zuko's expression was set in a dark scowl. One that was directing towards Haru.

Sokka may be oblivious at times, but there were some things he was rather observant in. And when it came to all three of his sisters, he was ever watchful.

Even though Katara had made no mention of it, he knew Aang was her soulmate. She would tell him when she thought right. Besides Katara was one stubborn and willful girl, and he knew she could handle things on her own.

Toph was a little tough to read. HA! See what he did there? But he liked to think he understood her now more then he had at the beginning. He had suspicions about who her soulmate was, and he had plans on talking to The Duke about it and ask him what he planned to do.

Orora was a completely different story. He looked at the older girl and pursed his lips in thought. There was so much going on with her, and Sokka was worried because she hadn't let all those emotions out yet. And when that dam broke, Sokka knew there were going to be casualties.

The major one of whom would be Orora herself.

He just hoped he had the chance to talk to her before that happened.

Worried eyes jumped from Orora, who was still focused on her breakfast, to Zuko who was now shaking Aang awake and telling him to finish breakfast before they started training.

And maybe he should speak to Zuko about Orora soon too.

————————–

"Hey Orora? Mind if I ask you something?"

Looking up from where she had just finished giving Toph a healing session, Orora smiled at Aang. "Sure." Pulling back the water and tossing it aside because she had just been healing feet with it, she walked after Aang to stand a little ways away from the rest oft he group.

"So, you know its my first day of training firebending right?" He said, clutching his staff and looking nervous. Orora nodded. "Well," He rubbed the back of his head. "I was comfortable with Katara and Toph because I knew the kind of teachers they would be, but with Zuko I don't know anything."

She stayed quiet. "And well, you've known him the longest out of all of us, and I was just wandering if you could tell me what I should expect, just so I'm prepared." He ended, looking at her so hopeful and anxious that she sighed, closing her eyes briefly as she did.

"Well, don't expect him to be patient with you." She finally said after a small stretch of silence. Her eyes glanced at Zuko who was helping Toph down from the column so she could test her feet a little. "And he won't let up until you've perfected whatever form he is teaching you so be prepared for a lot of hard work."

Aang's entire body hung as he sighed. "This is gonna be hard." He stated dismally as Orora reached out to pat his back in a reassuring manner. "You're a talented kid, Aang. You'll get the hang of it." She smiled at him, before her gaze faltered towards Zuko once more.

Only to catch him looking at her.

She watched as his eyes widened, as did her own. Both of them quickly looked away, but not before their eyes met.

Not before the colors on their strings flared before settling into a more light hue or blue and red.

And certainly not before Toph picked up on how their heart beats picked up just then.

"I hope you're right." Aang muttered, oblivious to the inner turmoil Orora was feeling in that moment. Orora patted his back one more time. "Just mind your breath. That's what Master Iroh always told me." She said, smiling at him. It took him a moment before he too smiled and nodded.

"You ready?" Zuko's voice had her glancing up at him before stepping away from Aang, who nodded with a determined expression. "I'm ready. Lead the way Sifu Hotman."

That was certainly not what she had been expecting Aang to say.

Add that to the expression on Zuko's face and she could barely keep a small laugh from escaping her. Aang grinned at her, proud to have made her laugh, while Zuko's eyes darted in her direction before quickly looking away.

"Don't call me that." He stated, his tone annoyed as he began to lead the way towards wherever they would be training.

Aang skipped after him. "Understood Sifu Hotman."

"What did I just say!?"

————————–

This was getting to be frustrating as well as humiliating.

With another loud grunt, Zuko tried to create a fireball. Only to fail.

Again.

Why couldn't he get it right? He'd always been able to produce powerful flames no matter what. He paused in his actions, looking in Aang's direction who was laying atop the column he was perched on, looking at the clouds overhead.

Movement to his right had Zuko turning to the spot, only to catch sight of Sokka as he sat down near them. Aang sat up as well, gazing curiously at the watertribe boy.

"Hey, jerks!" Sokka said through a mouthful of apple. "Mind if I watch you two jerks do your jerkbending?" He asked with a snicker.

Already frustrated, Zuko was quick to snap at him. "Get out of here!" He shouted, pointing to the way from where Sokka had just come form.

Sokka held up his hands, his mouth opening to say something.

"Sokka!" His mouth snapped shut, his eyes widened and sheer panic overtook his face as he glanced in the direction from where the shout had just come from. "I wasn't here!" He squeaked out in fear, before racing off as if a dragon was at his heels.

Just in time too, because Orora suddenly rounded the corner. "Where is he?" She demanded to know, her ice blue eyes glaring first at Zuko then Aang. Both boys were quick to raise their arms to point in the direction where Sokka had disappeared to.

"Sokka when I get my hands on you, you better pray to the Moon I don't break your arm for dumping your dirty laundry on me!" And she was off, her voice getting lower and lower as she walked further away, yet closer to her target.

Leaving Aang and Zuko to stare after her, wide-eyed and a little scared. "Maybe we should ask Orora for some of her fire?" Aang joked to which Zuko dropped his head in dejection.

————————–

After nearly breaking Sokka's arm, and only letting go when he promised he would do all of her clean up duty for the rest of the day, Orora went about her day as normally as she could.

She chatted with Toph for a good hour before walking off with Haru, Teo and The Duke to explore the Temple. And Orora had to admit, it truly was a work of art. She'd have to ask Aang to give her a tour soon, just so she could ask him about the history of the place. He may not have lived there, but he had visited the place when it was bursting with life. Now it sat empty and hollow. And that was sad.

Once they all returned for lunch, she was quick to ask Katara for a little waterbending one on one. Nothing drastic, just a few maneuvers they both wanted to master that the other had created. Katara with her wall of water that she had taken from Toph's earthbending, and Orora with her wave of water using her leg that she had been inspired to do after seeing Zuko create a plume of fire with just the sweep of his leg.

Orora didn't miss the way Katara kept glancing at her finger, where her string glowed a warm red. Obviously the other girl couldn't see the color, but it still made her nervous. But she made no comment about it, simply focusing on the training and nothing else.

Dinner was Haru and The Duke's responsibility that night, so both girls arrived once everyone else had already begun to eat.

Everyone except Zuko that is.

Orora frowned at his absence, but quickly pushed it to the side. Instead she walked past the warm bowl of food that waited for her to go give Appa his feed for the day.

Only to stop short when she saw Zuko leaning against a column just beside the bison, his arms crossed as he looked below. Clearly, he was deep in thought. The girl quickly walked over to Appa and pulled out the hay from under the tarp where they stored it. "Here you go buddy." She smiled at the giant creature. "Eat good." She patted his nose as he gave her a happy groan before beginning to eat.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" Zuko's voice had her frowning. "You just did." She responded, a slight bite in her tone which probably had him flinching. An awkward silence ensued, one that had Zuko nearly squirming where he stood.

She closed her eyes before opening them again and turning to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. "Does what you have to ask effect Aang?" Keep her conversation with him short and to the point, while also keeping the topics on anything but them.

Not like he meant anything to her.

Right?

He nodded. "Yeah, I-I think I've lost my inner fire. Or maybe its weaker somehow." A twinge of concern ran through her as she blinked at him. Over his shoulder, she saw the rest of the group glancing in their direction, obviously curious as to what they were speaking about.

She turned back to him. "Look, I know you said you wanted to be a part of the group. And being a part of the group means we solve all our problems together." Nodding over his shoulder she gestured for him to start walking. "Best to have them be involved as well."

Zuko stood there quietly for a few moments, before he nodded. "You're right, I shouldn't burden you with my problems." Instantly Orora's entire demeanor changed. Her eyes grew ice cold, and her lips pressed in a thin line as she glared at him. "That's not what I said." She hissed at him, to which he raised his hands in a placating manner.

"No, yeah I know you didn't. Its just what I think." The two teenagers stared at one another for a few more moments. "Well you shouldn't think that either." Confusion ran through her veins. Why would she get angry at Zuko thinking he was a burden on her?

With that Orora walked back to the group, ignoring everyone's questioning looks and busying herself with her dinner as Zuko approached.

And especially ignoring the way her string had flared at the last few words she had said to Zuko.

She was a little tuned out from the conversation as she tried to regain her composure, and calm her suddenly rapid heartbeat. Toph did glance at her curiously, but decided not to say anything.

"Well, it's not lost." She heard Zuko say, his voice somehow bringing her back from the murky confines of her own mind. "It's just........weaker for some reason."

Katara, who was sitting next to Orora held up her bowl and glared at Zuko. "Maybe you're not as good as you think you are."

"Ouch." Toph stated, smiling sarcastically as she fed herself some carrot with her chopstick.

Orora, without even looking up from her bowl of food, where she was listlessly stirring her noodles spoke up. "Trust me, he is good." Everyone glanced at her surprised. Even Zuko. "He had an amazing Master," She finally raised her head to point her chopsticks at Zuko. "And he's too stubborn and determined to not be good." Beside her Katara pursed her lips, her eyes flashing with anger as she glared at Orora.

Zuko, taking confidence from the fact that Orora didn't think him weak, decided to put forth what he had been thinking over earlier. "I bet it's because I changed sides." He stated, frowning in thought.

"That's ridiculous." Katara muttered under her breath, as she drank the broth from her bowl.

Aang hummed in thought. "I don't know. Maybe it isn't." He look to Zuko. "Maybe your firebending comes from rage and you just don't have enough anger to fuel it the way you used to?"

For some reason she felt compelled to add to the conversation. "You did always use your bending more when you were angry." Why couldn't she just stay detached like she had told herself to be? It was her weakness, she figured, wanting to help people she cared about.

Or had cared about at some point.

Or did she still care about Zuko?

Sokka, never wanting to miss a chance to mess with the Fire Nation Prince leaned towards him and pointed a finger. "So, all we need to do is make Zuko angry. Easy enough." He declared, glancing slyly between Zuko, Orora and Haru. He probably didn't value his life enough, which was what prompted him to say what he did next. "Either we can have Haru flirt with Orora to get Zuko angry."

His suggestion had mixed reactions.

Katara's gaze was so chilling that it nearly rivaled the one Orora would normally wear. Aang and Toph both coughed into their broths, trying their best to mask their laughter. Teo and The Duke looked around oblivious. Haru's eyes widened and he looked away, though the blush on his cheeks was hard to miss.

But the best reaction was Zuko and Orora's.

Their eyes promised death as they both glared at Sokka. But he remained oblivious, as he picked up his sword and grinned. "Or!" As another option, he began to poke Zuko with the hilt of his weapon. He hit the other boy several times on the head and waist, laughing as he did.

"Okay, cut it out!" Zuko finally snapped, once he had calmed down considerably and didn't feel the urge to firebend the water tribe boy off the side of the Temple. He only stopped because he reminded himself that he wanted to win these people over. Sokka did stop, his sword slipping from his hand and flying up before falling on his own head.

Sighing Zuko pinched his nose. "Look, even if you're right, I don't want to rely on hate and anger anymore." He stated firmly. "There has to be another way."

Toph was the one who spoke up this time. "You're gonna need to learn to draw your firebending from a different source." She said, eating another vegetable from her bowl. "I recommend the original source."

Looking a little too excited for someone who was hit with his own weapon, Sokka perked up. "How's he supposed to do that‌? By jumping into a volcano‌?" He said, his question ending in a laugh that had Zuko scowling in annoyance.

Toph shook her head. "No." She stated firmly. "Zuko needs to go back to whatever the original source of firebending is." She explained further.

Raising an eyebrow, Sokka asked again. "So, is it jumping into a volcano?" He'd barely finished his inquiry when suddenly a blur of blue flew through the air and Sokka found himself, once again, with a mask of ice latched around his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

"Your opinion is no longer needed Sokka." Orora stated, as calm as could be, sipping from her broth and ignoring the way everyone was looking at her. Zuko felt his lips morph to a brief smile as Sokka began to mutely struggle with his binds. "Please continue Toph." The older girl urged Toph who grinned before nodding.

"For earthbending," She began, placing her bowl on the floor. "The original benders were badgermoles. One day, when I was little, I ran away and hid in a cave. That's where I met them. They were blind, just like me. So we understood each other. I was able to learn earthbending, not just as a martial art, but as an extension of my senses. For them, the original earthbenders, it wasn't just about fighting. It was their way of interacting with the world." The girl finished a nostalgic smile on her face.

Everyone stared at the girl, stunned. "That's amazing, Toph!" Aang stated, the awe in his voice evident before he turned his attention back to Zuko.

"I learned from the monks, but the original airbenders were the sky bison." He waved his arm in the direction of the mural they sat opposite to which depicted three sky bisons flying above the clouds. Grinning the boy looked in Appa's direction. "Maybe you can give me a lesson sometime, buddy." His received his answer in the form of a sleepy groan from Appa.

Licking her lips, Orora cleared her throat before she began. "For the waterbenders we learn from the moon." He gaze turned towards the sky just beyond the awning where they were sitting underneath. "How she pulls and pushes the tide towards her every night." She shrugged. "I guess that's also the reason we're so strong at night. Especially during a full moon."

A smile pulled at her lips as she continued. "I used to sneak away to the Spirit Oasis whenever things would get too much at home." She revealed, thinking back on all those nights she had sneaked out of the house and to bask in the tranquility of the Spirit Oasis. "It was there, while watching Koi Fish swim in an infinite circle that I was able to discover my waterbending."

Zuko stared at her in slight awe, once more taken aback whenever she would reveal something about her past. Still, what they had all shared wasn't something that helped him. And he stated as such. "The original firebenders were the dragons, and they're extinct."

Sitting up straight Aang frowned. "What do you mean‌?" He asked. "Roku had a dragon, and there were plenty of dragons when I was a kid."

Once again, frustration won him over and Zuko burst out. "Well, they aren't around anymore, okay?"

Aang moved his arms in an appeasing manner. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He said, remembering what Orora had told him earlier, to let Zuko just calm down on his own.

For his part, Zuko looked around the group before his gaze landed on Orora. Their eyes locked for barely a moment, and yet he felt a certain calmness overcome him and he exhaled deeply.

"But maybe there's another way." He said, walking towards the nearly destroyed fountain. "The first people to learn from the dragons were the ancient Sun Warriors."

Aang stood, approaching Zuko and standing beside him. "Sun Warriors? Well, I know they weren't around when I was a kid."

Zuko shook his head, turning to look at Aang. "No, they died off thousands of years ago. But their civilization wasn't too far from where we are now. Maybe we can learn something by poking around their ruins."

For his part Aang nodded in understanding. "It's like the monks used to tell me." He said. "Sometimes, the shadows of the past can be felt by the present."

Having finally had the mask melted away from his mouth Sokka spoke up. "So, what?" The Avatar and the prince turned to look at the group as Sokka continued. "Maybe you'll pick up some super old Sun Warrior energy just by standing where they stood a thousand years ago?"

Orora hummed. "Well I discovered my bending by just looking at the Koi Fish, so why can't it work for them?" She asked, gesturing towards where they stood.

"More or less." Zuko stated, agreeing with the both of them. "Either I find a new way to firebend," He looked to Aang. "Or the Avatar has to find a new teacher."

Aang gave a worried look while Sokka hummed thoughtfully. "Hmmmm, I doubt another one will miraculously appear like Zuko did." He paused before glancing around. "Unless one of you are hiding a firebender like Orora was."

For his trouble, Sokka received another ice mask to the mouth, courtesy of a fuming older sister.

————————–

As she watched Appa take off, carrying Zuko and Aang, Orora couldn't help but feel a bubble of worry settle in her chest. Surprisingly, this worry had nothing to do with the doubt that Zuko would betray Aang and capture him, or worse.

This worry was over the fact that her little brother and soulmate were going to a place where she wouldn't be able to protect them.

And now she was even more confused.

Why wasn't she doubting Zuko's intentions? She had more then enough reason to, and yet somehow, she just.......didn't. Did that mean she had forgiven him? No, she was still angry at him. Wasn't she?

But then if she were angry at him that meant she still cared enough for him to have feelings for him?

Not to mention on the front of worrying about the two boys getting intro trouble and not getting out of it, she felt her stomach tense.

"I don't like this."

Katara's voice had Orora snapping out of her thoughts. She glanced to the side where the girl stood, mirroring her act of staring at the sky, watching as Appa grew smaller and smaller into the distance. Everyone else had already scattered, aside from Sokka, who sat near a broken column, polishing his space sword.

"Katara," She said, her voice gentle. "I know you're worried, but you don't have to worry about Aang going alone with Zuko."

"How can you be so sure about it?" Katara demanded to know. Willing herself to be patient, knowing just how scared Katara really was, Orora offered her a soft smile, placing her hand on her shoulder. "What happened in Ba Sing Se, isn't going to happen again. Zuko won't allow it."

Instantly, Katara's entire demeanor changed. Where she had looked worried and scared, now her features morphed to one of sheer fury and utter rage.

"How do you know he isn't taking Aang to be captured by the Fire Nation?" She said, turning on her heel so she could face the older girl fully, pushing off her hand in the process.

Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. Orora pursed her lips, trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation. "I've known Zuko the longest Katara, and I believe he has changed." She responded her voice calm, hoping her tone would help soothe Katara's temper.

Nostrils flaring in anger Katara glared at her older sister. "Why are you defending him?" She demanded to know, prompting Orora to frown slightly.

"I'm not-" She began to say, only to be cut off. "Yes you are." The other girl's voice had started to raise in volume. "You shouldn't be defending him. Not after he betrayed you and broke your heart." The reminder had Orora flinching.

"Katara, this is our only chance of ending this war." She said, feeling a strange emotion simmering just under the surface but pushing it aside in favor of speaking gently to her younger sister. "You have to consider how it benefits us. Otherwise Ozai will beat us and the Fire Nation will finally take over the world."

A laugh of derision echoed against the walls of the long abandoned Temple. "Is that really your excuse?!" Katara demanded, a mocking smile on her lips with her arms crossed in front of her chest as she glared at Orora.

Orora frowned. "Its not an excuse Katara." She said, anger seeping into her tone as she regarded the other waterbender. "I want this war to end just as much as anyone."

"Oh do you?" Katara knew she was being cold, unfair and even spiteful, but she couldn't help it. And neither did she care. Not when she was this angry and worried at the same time. She needed to let her emotions out, and it seemed Orora was her target. "Or do you just want a chance to reconcile with your soulmate even though he is the enemy?"

Seeing Orora's mouth fall open and stare at her in utter shock was rather satisfying. "Do you really believe me to be that selfish Katara?" The other girl demanded, her volume now matching Katara's. "Do you really think I would put my family in danger for the sake of reconciliation with my soulmate?" Her hands were clenched in fists at her sides, causing the twin pots that held their water storage to tremble.

Sokka, who had been following their conversation closely since the beginning now set his sword aside, ready to intervene if need be. Maybe he should've stopped them before things got too heated, but then their next encounter wouldn't have been as calm as this one had been so far.

They needed to talk things out.

"He is the enemy!"

"He isn't the enemy anymore."

"He's the Prince of the Fire Nation."

"And that makes him bad? You've seen the citizens Katara, all of them aren't bad. They're just misguided."

Katara rolled her eyes. "Oh and you think you'll be able to guide Zuko back to the right path do you?" Orora faltered, frowning and shaking her head.

"N-no. This was all his choice, I had nothing to do with-" The other girl looked away, scoffing as she did, not wanting to look at her sister any longer lest she grew even angrier.

"Save it! You may turn a blind eye Orora, but I see the way he looks at you." Katara stated in a cold tone.

"What're you talking about Katara? What way?" Oh but she knew. She knew the answer to this question. Knew Katara's response would either make her or break her. She'd seen him look away from her, and she knew how he looked at her.

It was the same way Orora had seen Aang and Katara look at one another when the other wasn't looking.

A look that filled her with joy for her two friends, and yet sadness because she didn't believe anyone would look at her the same way.

Until now.

Katara opened her mouth to reveal the truth, but at that moment, Sokka stepped in partially between them. He gave his younger sister a look, silently telling her not to say another word. And for once Katara listened to her older brother.

With one final look of anger and eyes full of spite, the girl turned on her feet and walked away.

No sooner had she disappeared from view when Orora felt her legs tremble. She would've collapsed onto the floor if Sokka hadn't reached out to wrap and arm around her waist to keep her standing. "Easy there, come here, sit." He urged, gently guiding her towards one of the flatter rocks. Orora barely noticed as she tried to focus on her breathing, trying to calm her heart and mind as they raced ahead. Sokka crouched in front of her, a worried look in his eyes as he gripped her hands in comfort.

It took a few minutes for her breathing to even out, and once it did, Sokka finally spoke. "You good?" He asked, the concern evident in his eyes. She gave a small nod, pulling one hand from his grasp and cradling her head by pressing her forehead against it.

"Spirits! Whats wrong with me?" She muttered. "I was always so good at locking away my emotions and not feel anything for weeks but now its like I can barely keep my emotions in check." Raising her head to look at her brother, Orora bit her lip. "Am I weak now? Is that what this is? I have a weak heart?"

Sokka shook his head, squeezing the one hand he held as he smiled gently at his sister. "You're not weak Orora. You're one of the strongest people I know. And I've traveled almost the whole world, so that's saying something."

His attempt to lighten the mood had the older girl giving a small smile. "Even the strongest of people get overwhelmed sometimes Orora. And you were bound to be." He patted her hand in an affectionate manner. "The best way to unburden yourself is to let it all out and talk to the people involved."

She opened her mouth to say something, but Sokka held up his hand, stopping her. "Katara is right on her part to stay on guard. She nearly lost her soulmate because of his betrayal. Yes, I know about her and Aang even though no one has told me, I don't have that detective hat for nothing you know." Briefly smiling at her disgruntled look, he continued with a more serious face.

"But I am happy for you Orora, because now you have your soulmate on the same side of the war. And sure, he has a long road ahead of him to prove himself, but from what I have seen, in just a day, he is going to give it his all." Sokka grinned. "Mostly because I can see just how much he cares about you."

Trying hard not to blush, and failing, Orora bit her lower lip, before sighing. "I'll have to talk to Zuko when he gets back won't I?" Her response had Sokka nodding. "Yeah, and I know you're both at ends right now, but maybe after that talk, things won't be as tense."

The girl nodded, pursing her lips and exhaling softly. "You're right. We should all try to move forward, and focus on ending this war once and for all." Sokka frowned. "That's not what I-"

But Orora cut him off as she stood, pulling him to stand with her. "Thank you Sokka." She said, smiling at him before pulling him in for a hug, after which she walked off, leaving a rather confused watertribe boy behind.

After a moment he shook his head. "And they say I'm oblivious." He muttered to himself, making a mental note to talk to Zuko before Orora had the chance.

————————–

Surprisingly it was the hunger that got to them rather then the boredom.

Being glued to the ceiling with nothing to do but stare at the changing sky above did tend to get rather tedious. However, Zuko and Aang entertained themselves, after multiple failed attempts to escape their trap, by simply talking.

"So you're telling me that Orora joined in on the scamming thing?" Zuko asked, once Aang had finished relating the entire tale to the firebender. The boy nodded as he smiled. "Yup! She even came up with a couple of scams with Toph. Pretty good ones too." He added with a chuckle.

Curiosity burned in him as he frowned thoughtfully, trying to picture Orora actually going along with all of that. "I remember she used to tell me off for stealing stuff while we traveled through the Earth Kingdom." He revealed with a nostalgic smile. Aang hummed.

"Well she did urge us to stop once we had enough money for supplies and stuff. And she didn't join in after the first day, so yeah, maybe that Orora you hung out with came back." It was strange to think of what she had gotten up to while traveling with Aang and the others. In Zuko's mind she had been with him since he had been seeing her everywhere.

Zuko frowned. "She was probably too worried about me to actually do something fun while were traveled together." He stated, his voice full of remorse. He did remember her being worried about them all the time. Not so much as herself but more his Uncle and him. "Oh come on, I'm sure you both had some fun." Aang's cheerful voice cut through his gloomy thoughts. Despite how uncomfortable his current position was, Zuko was glad Aang couldn't see his face as he blushed, thoughts of what fun he had Orora had gotten up to flashed through his mind.

"And people do tend to worry about their other half when there is danger involved." Aang attempted to shrug, but the glue stopped his efforts. "I mean, Katara and I worry about one another all the time."

A brief moment of silence passed before Zuko finally asked. "So you've known Katara for this long and neither of you have talked about being soulmates?" He was curious how the both of them could walk around and not acknowledge something so......significant. Sure he and Orora had tried to deny it in the beginning but fate had other plans.

Aang grimaced. "It just never seemed like the right time." He finally revealed, the reason sounding stupid, even to his ears. He heard Zuko let out a sound of disbelief.

"Oh so going into battle with a low chance of survival wasn't a good time?" He said, the sarcasm evident in his tone which had Aang jumping to his own defense.

"Well I did kiss her before it all started." The young Avatar stated in a proud tone which only prompted Zuko to roll his eyes.

"And yet you still haven't talked about it, have you?"

Silence followed his question, before a small grumpy voice responded with a simple:

"No." Came the dejected response.

This time Zuko shook his head, his gaze following a cloud as it floated above. "Agni, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." He muttered under his breath, prompting Aang to purse his lips in anger and take a metaphorical swing at his friend.

"Oh! Like your situation is any better." Alright, so maybe it was a low blow, but Aang had to admit, he did feel a little anger towards Zuko for what he had done to his older sister. And as her self-proclaimed younger brother, who also happened to be the Avatar, it was his duty to make sure she didn't get hurt. Again.

Even though it wasn't much of an argument, Zuko still tried to make his point. "At least Orora and I know that we're soulmates."

In response, his friend rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah? And has that done any good to either of you?" He heard Zuko take a breath, ready to response, but Aang continued to speak, cutting him off. "I mean you saved her and leave, only to attack her before helping her again and taking her with you. Then you betray her and then change sides, save her again and now where do you two stand?"

Shocked silence followed his words. Zuko had suspected that Orora had told her friends about what had happened between them, but he hadn't been aware of just how much. He wandered if she had told them about the more intimate moments they had shared and how their relationship had begun to shift.

Clearing his throat, the young Prince, once again, tried to make an argument. "Well its more complicated when you say it like that."

A beat of silence.

"I know you can't see me right now, but just know, I'm giving you a look." Came Aang's voice, full of sarcasm, a trait Zuko had no idea the young boy even possessed.

Still he shook his head. "Okay, so I admit I've made a lot of mistakes when it comes to the whole soulmate thing, but I'm gonna make up for all of it. I don't plan on giving up."

His words came out with as much conviction as he could muster. Not to mention the tone of his words had Aang frowning in thought. "You really mean that?" He asked.

"Look, I know I've said that I changed side because I wanted to help you, but I would be lying if I didn't include that a major part of my changing was because of Orora." The teenager sighed. "She once told me, that I should find my reason for living, but she never said I couldn't find two reasons. The first one being ending the war and restoring balance to the world and the second reason is......her. Just her."

To say Aang was a little stunned would be an understatement.

A sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his being echoed in the clearing. "I just need to make her see that she's my reason." He said, his voice dejected and sorrowful.

Though it was difficult, Aang managed to move his head enough so he could catch a glimpse of Zuko's face. Or at least the side of it.

"You promise never to break her heart again?" He asked, to which Zuko shook his head, as much as he was able to.

"I would rather give up my firebending then break her heart again." That was a very serious proclamation. Even saying something like that out loud was considered bad luck, and yet Aang found it was exactly what he needed to hear to make up his mind.

"Then I'll help you win her back." He said, smiling when he saw Zuko's eye widen in surprise. "You'll really help me?" The firebender asked, his voice full of disbelief.

Aang turned his gaze towards the sky again, thinking of the girl who had become such an important person in his life. "I just want Orora to be happy. She's like a sister to me, but she will be stubborn. Not to mention she has the tendency to lock her emotions for a long time. I just hate to see her destroy her chance at happiness. Besides, its never good to always live in anger, as you've already done. No offense."

"None taken."

"She deserves to be happy," The airbender stated firmly. "Especially after all that shes been through."

"I just want her to be happy." Came Zuko's voice. "Even if she doesn't accept our bond, I just want her to be happy."

And that was when Aang knew, Zuko's feelings for Orora went beyond simple affection. The realization had the Avatar smiling to himself, hoping that Orora would recognize her own feelings for her soulmate and just be happy.

————————–

She spent the rest of the day alone.

It helped that everyone kept their distance, but it also helped that she decided to walk away under the guise of exploring the Temple on her own. The silence was welcoming and honestly, she had needed the respite. After all that had happened in quick succession, one after the other, Orora had barely had any time to really sift through her thoughts and just be by herself.

Meditation, her Master had taught her, was the key to discovering self and gaining control over one's emotions.

And so that was what she did.

Luckily for her, she found a hall that would suit to her needs. It was big and airy, with plenty of light. But the best part was the giant fountain bubbling away in the center. There were several smaller ones as well and she remembered The Duke telling her how Teo had managed to fix the mechanism that made it work and now the fountain bubbled away as it had done a hundred years ago.

She looked around, admiring the architecture and the simple splendor of it all. The Air Nomads truly were amazing architects, she mused to herself, sitting down at the edge of the fountain and looking at the clear water.

Had her mind been at ease, she would've admired everything even more.

But for now, the young waterbender simply crossed her legs underneath her. Reaching up, she pulled her hair free, allowing the mid-length dark brown locks to settle around her shoulders. Settling her hands in her lap, one above the other, the young girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

The sound of her element calmed her, and slowly her breath evened out as she began to delve deeper into her meditative state, loosing herself to her mind, heart and soul.

————————–

"Well now that we have our firebending." Aang said with a cheerful smile. "What say you and I get started on our lessons?" He asked his thoroughly distracted teacher who was looking around the small group that had greeted them upon their return.

"Where's Orora?" Zuko asked, not finding the girl anywhere. He had noticed her absence as soon as they had arrived, but had only just voiced his concern. "She discovered the fountain Teo fixed up in the eastern part of the Temple and went back to it straight after breakfast." Toph revealed. "She's actually been there almost all the time since you two left. Only coming back at night for dinner and to sleep." The younger girl added. They'd all wanted to see what was wrong, but Sokka had told them not to interfere. He had explained to Toph what had happened, and she wasn't really happy with Orora isolating herself like that. The last time she had done it, her older sister had nearly lost herself.

Worry gnawed at his chest, as Zuko glanced down at his finger where his glowing blue string was leading him towards her. Without another word, he began to walk in the direction Toph had just mentioned, his every step determined as he walked further and further into the Temple.

As he drew closer to the hall, he could hear the sound of water. His string tightened and he knew it was the right hall. Turning the corner, he walked towards the door, entering the large room and stopping at the threshold.

Orora was there, standing in the middle of the fountain, fully clothed, and going through a rather intricate waterbending move. Even from here he could see the concentration on her face and he didn't want to break it.

It took her a few minutes before she finally stopped, bringing herself to a halt with a deep exhale, her palms down in front of her. It was then that he moved forward, walking further into the room even as she started another waterbending form.

"Hey," Zuko greeted over the sound of the water splashing and the fountain gurgling away. "Aang and I just came back and I wandered where you were."

"I've been here." She responded, her voice calm, never once breaking her stance as her arms circled around in front of her, creating a bubble of water that was a perfect sphere.

Clearing his throat Zuko nodded. "Well, I've got good news. I got my firebending back, and Aang learned it too." She finally looked up to meet his gaze.

But only briefly, before she returned to her water sphere, which she was now splitting into multiple smaller ones.

"That's good news." She responded. "Now you can start with your firebending lessons."

Zuko frowned, having expected more of a reaction from her then what she was giving him. "We learned to firebend from the masters." He added, hoping to surprise her with the existence of dragons. "You won't believe who they were."

As she transformed the water spheres into spheres of ice, Orora turned away from him. "I'm sure nothing you can say would surprise me."

Finally he sighed, frustration seeping into his tone as he spoke. "So is this how its going to be? You barely speaking to me?" He asked, deciding that maybe the best way to get through to her would be to stop tip-toeing around her.

"I've found that the best way for me to move forward is to keep my interactions with you brief." She revealed, despite the fact the words felt heavy on her tongue and even heavier on her heart.

Zuko scowled, arms coming up to cross over his chest. "You never had any problem hiding your feelings before, so why can't you just come out and say what you are feeling. I can't read your mind Orora, so you'll have to help me out in understanding whats going on in your mind." He paused after his outburst, looking at her where she still had her back turned to him. "We used to-" His voice broke as he bit on his lower lip before picking up again. "We came to a point where we talked about everything Orora. Can't you bring yourself to share what you're feeling with me like you once did?"

He saw her shoulders tense, saw her her entire demeanor shifted. Zuko knew her long enough to read her body language, and in that moment he knew, she was beginning to loose her grip on her emotions. She turned, and for the first time since had had arrived, Zuko noticed her hair was down.

"If you really want to know." She said after a brief length of silence, her ice spheres still floating around her as she kept her arms lifted. "I'm angry, frustrated and sad."

Zuko nodded. At least she was talking to him. "And I guess all those feelings are targeted towards me." It was more of a statement then a question, still the look that followed confirmed his guess.

The boy nodded in understanding. "In that case, why don't you take it out on me."

Silence.

"What?"

He dropped his arms at his sides to appear as non-threatening as he could. "Come on. I promise I won't fight back, and I'll stay on the defensive."

She rolled her eyes at him, turning away once more. "I'm not going to do that Zuko." She responded, trying to shut him out. Of course, he wouldn't let her.

"Come on, I'm offering you a chance to just let loose." He urged her. Maybe if she had an outlet, he would have a better chance of actually gaining her trust again.

"No Zuko." She responded firmly.

"Just let it out Orora."

"Just leave Zuko."

"I can handle it." His voice was beginning to get louder.

And she matched his tone. "I said no."

"Look we have to work this out somehow." He burst out, his voice echoing against the walls and the water. "We can't just ignore each other. But if my being here makes you uncomfortable I can camp somewhere else. Aang can always come to me for firebending lessons."

He would do anything, anything to make her happy. Even if it meant removing himself form her life. Zuko knew it would have a very very negative impact on him.

But he didn't care.

Not when it came to her.

His string glowed bright and blue, though what caught his attention was when her side of the string glowed a crimson red.

Just as a water whip flew through the air and he barely created a pillar of fire to block it.

Though why did she break?

Why finally let go of the emotions she had worked so hard to regain control over through meditation over the last few days?

Because the thought of him sitting alone and friendless was what finally broke something in her.

Later Orora could never really remember what happened. How many times she attacked him and how many times he deflected her.

She had no idea when the others arrived, standing at the threshold with Aang and Sokka both holding Katara and Toph back from intervening.

What she did remember, was when she began to scream at him.

"You left me." The words echoed against the bare walls as she threw an ice disk at him.

Zuko jumped out of its way, landing on his feet. "I'm sorry." He shouted back, his features set in a look of anguish at what she said next.

"You broke my heart and you just left." Sokka tried not to feel just how true the words rang for him as he thought of Suki captive somewhere. "How could you do that to me?" An icicle shot through the air.

"I regretted it!" He twisted out of the way of the incoming projectile. "I regretted it as soon as I did it." Though her moves were starting to shift back towards the basic they were only growing in speed and viciousness.

Orora gritted her teeth, her face appearing almost unrecognizable with the amount of anger and utter anguish that she was feeling in that moment. "I'm your soulmate, was I not enough for you?" She paused, coming to a standstill in the middle of the room.

"No that's not it." Panting for breath Zuko stood opposite her, just a few paces away.

"Then what?" She roared, getting ready to attack him again.

His voice raised to match her volume as he finally revealed. "I thought you were leaving with your friends."

She faltered, her eyes widening and the water dropping to the ground where she'd been getting ready to strike. "How could you think that? I would never have left you." Whatever small pause she had taken ended the next moment when she created a wave that flew towards him. Zuko spun on his feet, creating a whirlpool of fire to protect him that dissipated her water wave.

"I know that now." He responded, straightening up. "I was just scared. I was scared of loosing you."

The revelation only seemed to make her angrier, as her attacks began to get sloppy yet stronger. Never before had Toph felt two heartbeats so in sync and yet frantic. "You went back to your family. The people who hurt you."

"I didn't realize it then, but I had to." The firebender cried out, doing his best to evade her attacks as best as he could. "I had to face them one last time. Confront them about all they had done."

Silently urging Zuko on, Aang hoped he would reveal everything to her. And then he did. "But all the time I was there you were always on my mind Orora." The young Prince revealed. "I told you, I didn't stop thinking about you. You were always there with me."

Katara frowned, her anger starting to replace her worry as she took in the way Orora's attacks kept changing in brutality and speed. And they were, as Zuko was beginning to find it harder and harder to defend himself against her attacks.

"Fight back!" Orora screamed as she threw a large sphere of ice in his direction which exploded into sharp icicles as it neared him.

Bringing up a wall of fire and burning the ammunition, Zuko shook his head. "No! I won't fight you!"

She paused, her entire body trembling, her eyes ablaze. "Fight back you coward!"

"No!" His voice was firm and true. "I won’t hurt you Orora." He watched as she closed her eyes, as if she were trying to block out the sound of his voice just by doing so. So he spoke even louder. "I’ve hurt you enough. And I will never hurt you again!"

A scream of sheer anger and heartbreak rang through the air, as Orora flung her arms behind her to create twin water whips. "Fight back!"

The first water whip, he was able to dodge. However, the second proved to be impossible.

A loud grunt of pain escaped him when the strength behind her attack caught him in the chest, sending him flying into the wall just next to the doorway.

For a moment he had his very breath knocked out of him, before he slid to the floor. He tried to get up, but barely got to his knees when he collapsed again, groaning in pain.

"Zuko!"

Her eyes were wide, her breathing ragged, and a horrifying fear she had never known before raged through her body as she stood there frozen, staring at the unmoving figure of her soulmate.

Aang, Sokka, Katara and Toph were the first to reach him, crowding around him.

"He's alright, I can feel his heartbeat." Toph responded, as Sokka laid him down on his back while Katara moved to pull water from her water skin.

But his hand darted out, pushing away Katara's offer to heal him. "No. I don't want to be healed." He said, his voice conveying how much pain he felt. Aang straightened. "Well maybe Orora can-" He trailed off as he looked around.

"Where'd she go?"

For as soon as she'd heard Zuko's voice, the young waterbender had raced out of the room. With tears blurring her vision and her heart all but in a million pieces, she ran until she collapsed.

Where?

She did not know.

And then she just cried.

Fully aware of how his string had not lost it's color despite what had happened.

Then again, neither had hers.

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