#sudden death believability chapter 1

[moondirti]

animalic (2)

← chapter 1 // series masterlist

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: a game of cat and mouse warnings: enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, guns, death, blood, angst, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as ‘wraith’) notes: remember when i said part 2 would take a while? i lied. the next chapter is fun as all hell so i wanted to churn this one out as build up. teehee i hope yall like it regardless

He let you go. 

He let you go. 

No matter how Miguel tries to vindicate it, he rounds back to the same conclusion. You weren’t subtle, regardless of what you’d have yourself believe; he’d seen the calculations glaze over your eyes the instant he pinned you to the wall. He knew what was coming, how your heavy breathing was a cover for the clicks of his watch – of which he heard regardless – and your squirming a diversion from the movement of your busy fingers. He had a goddamn plan too, a fail safe in case you decided to attack instead of listening to reason. 

(One he’d settled on for the duration of your lost consciousness, for knowledge that you would.)

So, there is no dismissing it. You’re obnoxious and lack precision, and he could have had you halfway back home by now, which isn’t the case – because he let you go.  

The frigid air of his office thrums with irritation, weighing down on his shoulders until they collapse inwards, his hands coming up to rub the weariness off his expression. HQ has been unsettlingly quiet as of late – occupied by only a fraction of its regular population – and the peace worries him. History betrays its status as the precursor to havoc; lulls in the past have fooled him into believing his mission was drawing to a close, only for another anomaly, another mess, to spin that naivety on its head. 

You were one such instance. A year ago, you’d popped up on an Earth that wasn’t your own, and didn’t leave until you’d drawn all that you could from it. It’s an empty husk now, lacking land to propagate its agriculture. Thousands – millions – dead, from the flap of a butterfly’s wings.

Parasite. A fucking parasite who just won’t quit. 

The mantra surges through him, festering from the base of his gut to the cap of his tongue. It bursts out with a roar right then, the sudden violence finding monitors thrown across the room, smashed to bits of orange light and static. It does nothing to sate him, though, the heady anger filtering out like molasses. His back hunches as he draws in thin breaths. He doesn’t count, nor does he attempt to. Instead, he looks for his only real decompressor. 

The video of Gabriella flickers at him from a distant floor, the transparent tablet wrecked with four distinct claw marks. He exhales, pulling it back to the platform with an extended web. 

“Boss,” 

His mija smiles toothily down at his digital self, winding her small palms in his hair for balance as he carries her. He recalls helping with hers, tying it back into shabby ponytails the mornings before a big game. How she wouldn’t let anyone fix it afterwards, not until her elastic slipped off the ends and her bangs hindered her playing. And she’d run to him, whenever, to get it fixed again. 

“Boss.” 

Her jokes resonate still, echoing laughter from when she’d poke fun at how bad he’d gotten at it, amused by the sudden decline in ability. To Miguel, it was one more reminder that the life he led wasn’t his own. 

“Oh Miguel!” 

So much for calming down.

“Lyla.” He looks up at the virtual assistant, her corporeal character a little fuzzy around the edges. She chooses to ignore his dissociative episode, rather projecting a map of the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse, a point off centre highlighted in red. His heart skips. Placing the tablet down on his desk, he takes a step closer to survey the pin.

“Managed to track the Wraith down using the day pass you’d given her. Currently stationed on Earth-15, no signs of jumping anytime soon.” 

Parasitic, and stupid enough to forgo destroying a potential tracking device.

Lyla snickers, seemingly able to read the sneer pulling at his cheeks. 

“Seems like she’s afraid of glitching more so than she is you, Boss.” 

His glare snaps to meet her heart shaped sunglasses. 

“Funny.” His assistant shrugs at his admonishment. “Pull up the anomaly cam.” 

A second later, your figure blinks into sight. 

You’re crouched atop a tiled floor, the grout darkened to near-black with grime. In front of you lies a sparse spread of medical supplies; gauze, scissors, and miniature packets of disinfectant wipes. Miguel can’t help but wonder what you think you’re doing, treating your wounds in a bathroom as unsanitary as the one that cramps you. Graffiti littered walls, nests of used paper towels in every corner. You spring up to wash your hands after undoing the old bandages that hugged your forearm, but all that comes out is an inconsistent splutter of grey water. 

His chest twinges, a tug of intrinsic sympathy playing against him. It worsens at the sight of your injury, the consequences of his talons’ assault on you, the puncture points brimming yellow and blackening closer to their middles. He can’t tell whether it’s gotten any better, whether you were good and had it treated by a professional, or made the common mistake of relying too much on your enhanced healing. 

“Gave her a harsh gig there. You always that rough?” 

“When I need to be.” Miguel murmurs, skimming over the conspicuous innuendo.

“Right. Until it comes to finishing the job, that is.” And, despite the offence taken to Lyla’s jest, he can hardly disagree. Newfound resolve hardens within him, sympathy fleeting at its failure to deter him. 

“Set coordinates for Earth-15.” He rumbles, gesturing to his wrist as he walks away. The assistant does as she’s told, shrinking back to an icon on his watch. While waiting for the portal to configure, Miguel cocks his head, taking one last look at your oblivious form. 

“I won't let her get away this time.” 

“Put the money in the fucking bag or she gets it!”

Of all the spider-people you’ve met, you don’t believe any have been the hostage in an armed robbery situation. You imagine that they’d come in at the last minute, valiantly swinging through the window, accentuating their arrival in a shower of shattered glass. They’d demand the money be remitted, and all’s well that ends well. But – of course – there’s got to be a first for everything; your record just so happens to be the lamest of the bunch. 

The masked man presses the gun further into your temple, bursting capillaries until the spot starts to ache with a raw tenderness. His body wraps around you, other arm waving wildly outwards, extending a plastic bag to the poor soul behind the register. You take a great gulp of air, staring at the buzzing fluorescents above, and pray. 

Lord, now would be a really good time to phase out. 

“P-Please, leave her be.” The owner throws a potful of crumpled fives into the bag, as if to punctuate her plea. The man is dismissive in face, urging her for more, shaking the receptacle with comedic insistence. You purse your lips, blinking up at the ceiling once more. 

Or make this more exciting, at the very least. 

“And you!” You’re jolted out of being a passive observer, rattled when the man diverts his attention to you. His gun thrusts harder against your forming bruise, adding to the list of damages sustained in the past week alone. You peer at him from the corner of your eye. His roll incredulously, pointing to the bill in your grip. “The twenty!” 

“Is that a real gun?” 

“Wha– Of course it’s a real fucking gun! Put the money–” 

“In the bag. I know.” 

His hold on you slackens, expectant. By contrast, you ball your fist and punch him square in the nose. The hit sends him reeling farther than it should for the amount of space you had in winding back, the feat prompting a deluge of pride to wash over you. It’s bolstered when he drops the spoils in the process, toppling into a rack of chips and cup noodles that consequently cushion his fall. 

Your first save. 

Filled with bravado, you snatch and pass over the bag to the cashier. 

“Here you go, ma’am.” 

But she doesn’t look at you. Rather, her stare remains trained on the man you’d just disabled. Nerves maturating, you join her line of vision, only to be met with the barrel end of his weapon. You catch the vicious conclusion in the way his hand trembles, veins protruding from the pale skin, supplying courage to the finger hovering right over the trigger. You process it all, aware of the ways it can end, at how fast it can sour.  

Before you can so much as act on it, he shoots. 

Your skin prickles. 

You’ve heard stories of people who don’t realise when a bullet strikes them. Their bodies take time to catch up to the pain, cells stuck in paralytic shock, stimulus signals held somewhere between the existential and a will to delay the inevitable. You think you understand what they mean, your mind dragging in a rare bout of silence. Things slow, for a perennial moment, and you wonder how fast the blood loss will kill you.

You can do nothing but follow the man, who scrambles to a stand, letting him take the money – with whatever else – and watching as he runs out onto the street. 

And even still, the pain hasn’t caught up to you. 

Looking down, the case starts piecing itself together. No blood sticks to your shirt, the fabric still as pristine as it had been upon purchase. You check your arms, then your legs, then reach up to smooth over your head. Nothing. You’re okay.

The relief is short-lived when the morbid sound of gurgling meets your ears. Slowly, you turn, bracing for what you knew you’d find.  

The scene unfolds with a distressing intensity as crimson liquid blooms from the cashier’s throat. The torrent is never-ending, every gush of ichor bringing forth a new momentum, splattering its macabre scene over the register. Her eyes gloss over with an unshed panel of tears, and she looks to you for help. 

She looks to you. 

(You don’t admit it to yourself, but it’s the novelty of that fact that pushes you into action.) 

With a swift leap over the counter, you intercept her mid-fall, carefully cradling her weight as you guide her down to the ground. Scanning your surroundings, you search for a means to call for help. A rotary phone catches your recognition, situated a ways off by the back exit. Despite the inconvenient placement, it stands as your sole option at this stage.

In a split second decision, you sling your backpack off, hastily rummaging through its contents. You find solace in your hoodie, gathering its folds to tightly bunch it up, converting it into a makeshift compress.  Knowing she lacks the strength to apply pressure to the wound, you move to wrap it around her neck, hopeful that it’s tight enough to stem the bleeding while leaving enough room for air. 

Urgency fuelling your every step, you leave her side for a fleeting moment, dashing over to call an ambulance. Your medical knowledge only extends so far, and some selfish part of you itches to pass on the responsibility to someone more competent. It’s an impulse that derives from an innate acceptance, that resoundingly insightful voice in your head telling you it's too late. That she’s already dead, had been from the moment the bullet – that was meant for you – missed. 

Perhaps your help isn’t really helpful at all, then. Perhaps it’s your attempt to wash your hands of the sin. You think back to the grey water in the bathroom, how exasperated you had been at your inability to stay clean. 

(You don’t think you’ll ever rid yourself of this.) 

“911, what’s your emergency?” The question crackles through the receiver.

The bell by the entrance jingles, the chime accompanied by heavy footsteps. You press yourself against the wall, the concept of the robber returning filling you with such dread that you feel your stomach tighten and congeal. It’s a heavy lump, icy cold and slippery, and it seems to weigh a hundred pounds.

“Hello?” The operator says. 

But if it was the man, then he'd have to have changed into a navy and red suit. Somehow, your terror worsens. 

“Hijo de la chingada…” The whisper is barely legible, but the deep baritone is discernible enough to validate the assumption pulled from your brief glimpse. You’d recognise him anywhere. 

Shrinking in on yourself, you cup your palm over your mouth. “Hello,” 

“Ma’am? Can you describe your emergency?” 

“There was an armed robbery at the convenience off sixth and Third. Someone’s hurt.” You hardly register the words as they escape you, eyeing Miguel when he crouches over the lady. You’re propelled back to the conclusion of your last meeting; how his claws tore into you, how his persistence didn't falter until you pressed yourself onto him. 

That kiss. 

He runs a finger over your hoodie-turned-compress, wavering, like he can’t quite place where he’d seen it before. 

Or, maybe he can, for he spins to meet your wide-eyed stare. 

You drop the phone, bolting out the back door, charged on a paroxysm of adrenaline and pure, unadulterated panic.

chapter 3 →

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo Satoru Masterlist

Multi-Chapter Stories

How you ended up as Gojo's fiancé in a fantasy tale masterlist Your life takes a tragic turn as you perish in a car crash, only to awaken in a whimsical world of fantasy with none other than Jujustu Kaisen characters as its main protagonists. But as if that wasn't enough, you're about to marry the prince version of Gojo Satoru. How will you navigate through this world of history and fantasy? Does your life take the same sudden twist of fate as that of your favorite characters?

One Shots

Touch her and you'll burn Your boyfriend Gojo goes berserk after finding out that Toji kidnapped you.

You saved me After Suguru tried to kill his former girlfriend, Satoru is there to cure your depression.

She is my weakness While you are on the brink of death through Suguru's hands, Satoru realizes just how much you really mean to him.

A word of power When his wife is sent to missions over and over until it visibly gets to her, Gojo decides to do something against it.

Lies in the dark You boyfriend Gojo cheated on you with another woman, leaving you heartbroken. Did he, though?

Keep doing it Satoru loves coming to your office everyday to finally win your heart. But it seems like you're more subborn than he thinks.

Having to share a bed with Satoru Gojo at a love hotel ... no words needed.

Golden girl Satoru Gojo really hates everything about you, especially the fact that you are stronger than him. Is it even possible to get along with you, let alone like you? (Spoiler: yes)

The heart wants what it wants 18+ The farewell of your boyfriend Suguru left a wound so deep that it seems like no one is able to fix it. Is the Satoru Gojo, who's secretly in love with you, able to pick your pieces back together?

Promises you can't keep When Sukuna realizes that you did not only break your oath to wait until he returns back to you but married Gojo Satoru after 1000 years of him waiting for you, he goes insane.

Don't touch her Gojo going berserk when you get injured by a curse

Gojo eavesdropping on his wife when she's talking about him While you kept your relationship with Satoru private, you always admire him when you meet at work. However, when your students ask you about your type in men, you can't help but describe the love of your life who hears every single word

Gojo recklessly flirting with Choso's little sister at Shibuya After being set in Shibuya to distract and exhaust none other than Satoru Gojo, Choso's little sister soon learns that the rumors about his charm are true.

Gojo teasing the heck out of you after realizing you get flustered by his eyes After working with smooth operator Gojo Satoru for years, he slowly but surely began to realize what your true weakness is: his bright blue orbs. And he wouldn't be Satoru Gojo if he wouldn't use that against you...

Gojo's and (y/n)'s son wanting to marry (y/n) no words needed

Gojo going nuts when his students don't believe him that you are his wife When Satoru wears his wedding ring for the first time in front of his students, Nobara can't help but wonder who he's married to. But when Gojo confesses it's you, his students just don't believe him.

Gojo getting flustered by his sweaty wife and smacked at their training session Your beloved husband never fails to beat you without mercy when training together. But this time, something seems to catch his eye - your chance to finally hit him with your best shot.

Megumi accidentaly calling Gojo's wife "mum" no words needed

Gojo calling (y/n) a burden to keep her safe Despite the fact that Satoru Gojo was the one who lifted you up and gave you the confidence to go on your very first solo-mission, it was also him who shattered your confidence in order to keep you safe.

Gojo's wife showing her maniac side when it comes to protecting her precious students (Part 1) Despite Gojo's wife spoke vehemently against sending the first and second years on a way too difficult mission, the elders decided against her suggestion. Her calm and collected self changes drastically when she makes them regret their decicion...

Gojo's wife going berserk in order to protect her students (Part 2) Like your bad feeling already suggested, especially Toge's and Yuji's lives hang on a threat when their mission doesn't go as planned. Good for them that Gojo's wife and their teacher rushes to their side and shows everyone just how much she cares about them.

Gojo's girlfriend being there for Shoko when no one else is Shibuya brings even a strong and collected woman like Shoko down to her knees. Especially when you, the only person who seems to truly care about her, ask her about her well-being when your boyfriend just got sealed....

Gojo dressing up as Santa for his girlfriend, Megumi and Tsumiki Satoru Gojo expected a lot of things, but not his girlfriend and two rescued kids making fun of him after he put on a Santa costume only for them.

Gojo being your enemy (or lover?) Your family told you over and over, pounded it into your head since childhood: Satoru Gojo is your enemy, you are simply not allowed to feel anything but hatred towards the Gojo clan. But why do you find yourself lost in his arms each and every night, begging him to love you right?

Gojo buying (y/n) souvenirs after every mission and finding out she kept EVERYTHING Since your joyful smile is so addictive, Satoru can't help but buy you a souvenir every time he goes on a mission. After a few months, he realizes by accident that you do, in fact, keep everything he gifts you...

Geto's little sister finding out her husband got sealed by her big brother You thought you lost him forever, your big brother. Until Shibuya brings you back to reality, until your beloved husband gets sealed by none other than your dead big brother. Until you show your enemy what you're made off...

Gojo's wife supposedly getting executed by kicking ass instead When Sibuya is finally over, you find yourself facing none other than the elders who want to execute you. Little do they know you are no one to be messed with, that even without your husband by your side, you are a true threat if you want to...

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Gojo's and (y/n)'s daughter buying a prom dress for her mum because she never had one When you told your little one about the fact that you never got to wear a prom dress, it was clear for your husband and daughter they needed to change that for your birthday.

(y/n) comforting her husband after he was forced to kill his best friend The man who seems goofy all day, who never takes anything serious breaks down in his wife's arms after he killed his best friend.

Satoru Gojo trying to make bun with his daughter's kinky hair It always looked so easy to him, the way you put your thick hair into the most breathtaking hairstyles. But when his daughter asked him to do a sleek bun on her, he was confronted with the stinging fact how difficult styling kinky hair can be. But that doesn't stop the dad of the year from learning... (POC reader!)

Reader going from being Gojo's lover to being his worst enemy You were always the perfect girlfriend for Satoru Gojo: innocent, quiet and weak. Until something inside you snapped. Until you decided you don't want to be weak anymore. Until you realized that Satoru Gojo isn't your lover, but your enemy...

Gojo's daughter insisting on him brushing her hair because he's so gentle You are pretty suprised when your daughter insists on your husband brushing her hair depite the fact that this is normally your job. Until you find out why...

[deceitfuldevout]

Savior (Part 1)

Dark!Emmett x Reader

Word count: +2,394

Warning(s) in chapter: +18, Non con, Breeding, Forced Breeding, Minor character deaths, Kidnapping, Mentions of past character death, Murder.

Author's Note(s): I'm still riding the Cillian high.

It was summertime in Akron, NY. Life was simple, peaceful, was. You were excited to be starting as an elementary school teacher. Until they arrived, death Angels, they were called. Slaughtering anyone and anything in sight that made sound. There was only one thing you could do, and that was to survive.

It's been 474 days since the apocalypses began. Winter was approaching, so you and your group decided to venture out. You were careful with each step. Who knows when or where a creature would be lurking. They're quick and stealthy. Almost silent. A mistake your teammate makes resulted in your entire team's demise.

A sudden trip on a hidden string causes a wind chime to clatter down, purposely alerting the creatures. Before your team has a chance to escape, they were quickly dragged off by the creatures. One by one their screams were heard. You ran, as fast as you could. Until your legs almost gave out. You couldn't believe it. Everyone, everyone was gone. You were all alone, dealing with the aftermath of yet another loss.

The adrenaline still pumping though your veins as you took each step. You hadn't even realized the hidden beartrap until it was too late. It takes every ounce of your energy not to scream in pain. You force yourself to swallow it down, muffling a cry. Fat tears role down your cheeks. It takes you a while to compose yourself. After that the realization hits. You were trapped in the middle of nowhere. With only a backpack filled with medical supplies.

This was it, this time, you would surely die. A deep feeling of dread consumes all your senses as you wobble to a sitting position, the pain becoming excruciating. You really did try your best to stay alive. But when your vision begins to blur, you embrace the darkness, letting it consume you.

When you had woken up your body felt heavy. A throbbing pain pulses though your head. It was hard even trying to lift yourself from the bed. Wait, what? You swiftly lift yourself up, looking around to find out just where the hell you were. How the hell did you end up here?!

"You were out for a while," a voice calls. You turn around to find a man seated at a desk, just now finishing up his meal. He's dressed from head to toe. His outgrown beard covers most of his features. A trucker's hat covering the top of his head. It was hard to tell what he looked like in the dark, "Here," he hands you a bowl, it's canned soup. You hesitantly take it from him, "Thank you..." eating it with careful bites.

You notice him still staring but choose to ignore it. He was kind enough to save you back there. Surely he wasn't so bad. Emmett recognizes you the moment he found you lying unconscious at the front of his hideout. For a moment, he thought you were surely gone. Until he hears a faint whine escapes your lips. He doesn't know why he decided to drag you inside. Maybe he just needed a sign.

"Your friends they uh, they didn't make it," feeling sorry for what he'd just said. Your heart broke for them. One small mistake costed them their lives. A part of you carried survivor's guilt with you. Thankfully you weren't alone. He was at the right time and place. When you try kicking your legs out of bed a sharp pain hits one of them. A painful grunt escapes your lips.

You with certain now, your foot was broken, small jagged cuts decorate the heel and ankle. It seems as though he tried to help, "I did my best to stop the bleeding but...'m not a miracle worker," his voice is deep, raspy with age and time. It sounded too familiar. That's when it hits you, "Emmett?" There was no doubt, you were sure it was your old neighbor. Hell, you used to babysit his boys. Your brows furrow, now worried, "What happened to...?"

"Gone, I lost the boys to those things, and Nora, she couldn't take it..." his eyes start to glisten. His once lively spirit now the shell of a man he used to be. He's taken aback when you start to cry, "I'm so sorry Emmett..." you cried, "I loved them so much..." mourning the loss of his family. He knows very well, his boys were fond of you. Even asking if you could be their teacher for the next school year. You even applied to an open position for the upcoming fall. After all this time fate still had a way with bringing people together.

Emmett lets you rest up for a few days while out on a supply run. He even left a few supplies and food by your bedside. You wanted to know where you were, but with your leg being in the condition that it was, it was impossible. For now, it was best to rest while it heals. You didn't want to weigh him down.

In the meantime, you try different ways to stay busy. Each day completing at least two to three tasks around the room. Whether it was stretching, exercising, or attempting to walk again. Soon enough you were able to limp for a certain amount of time. Emmett was sweet enough to get you a crutch.

As time passed, you began to make yourself comfortable. Its been a while since you’ve arrived. To the point where the two of you had a daily routine. Emmett would be out, either hunting or gathering food and supplies. While you stayed to look over the compound. When Emmett would arrive after a long day of work, he'd come home find a homecooked meal waiting. It's been a while since he’s had a proper meal.

Emmett halts at the door, watching as you hum a tune while finishing up dinner. You sat on a wheeled office chair while getting the plates ready. He approaches you from behind, "Here, let me," carrying dinner to the table. The both of you ate in silence. But it wasn't awkward, you both enjoyed each other's company. You're the first one to speak up, "Hey so..." starting the conversation, "As soon as my leg heals, would it be alright if I come help?"

Emmett couldn't hide the look of disapproval on his face. He doesn't think you're ready, or even fit to go out there, "No,"

"No? Why? I can walk now and--" "No, final answer,"

"Are you serious?"

"As serious as I can be,"

"But it was only one time! They didn't get me--"

"It's not just the monsters you should be worried about..." he pauses, "...the people, they're not the same," as if it were coming from experience, "Look at your leg, you think a monster did that?" he scoffs. You were the last thing that reminding him of how kind life was before. He can't risk losing the little beacon of light left. Not again.

Emmett won't admit it, but it was lonely during the past few months. You made it all the more bearable. Something stirred inside of him. Just the thought of a pretty little thing waiting for him at home. He felt guilty. As if he didn't deserve a second chance. So, what does he do when confronted with a problem? He avoids it altogether. Emmett would spend hours going on raids just to avoid being in the house. Being alone with a pretty little thing like you would only lead to trouble.

It's been a while since he'd been with someone. During a supply run he'd found a few magazines to help, but it hadn't done the job. They weren't the same. Not even close. He can't even remember the last time he's emptied himself deep inside a pussy. His breathing becomes shallow from the thought of it.

"Emmett?" you tilt your head. Shit, what did you say? "I asked if you wanted more," scooting the bowl of stew towards him. He's flustered, "Sure thing," when he reaches for it his calloused hand brushes against yours. He's in awe by how soft it is. You were this ethereal being, who just so happened to stumble upon his hideout. He quickly retrieves his hand. Not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But did he really want that?

It was just the two of you all alone down here. He's much stronger than you. If he wanted, he could just take you, right here right now. And there would be no one to stop him. He imagines you on your knees, looking up at him with that innocent look. Shit...he has it, bad.

He can't decide if it was pure desire, or simply part of his nature to breed. You were already a natural playing the role of a homemaker. It's not like there was anything else to worry about. He would take care of you. He'll provide you with anything you need. All you had to do was give him a little something in return. Just once wouldn't hurt. As you ready yourself for bed, you notice Emmett still standing there. You turn towards him, curious of what he was doing. He pulls out a thin metal chain. What was that for?

"Please, don't fight it..." he nears. At that moment your heart sunk. Emmett held the metal in his hands, "You already know I'm stronger, so don't try to stop me," nearing the edge of the bed. You look at him with a look of dread, "Emmett?" eyeing the chain cautiously, "W-what are you doing?"

"Sh... just let it happen..." he nears, "I promise you I'll take good care of you, you'll never want anything else,"

"Emmett? No..." tears began to form. You couldn't run away from him, not with a limp. All you could do was scurry to the corner of the bed. Emmett links the chain to bottom of the metal bedframe. He held your good ankle in hand before linking it to the cuff. You're well aware he's much stronger, he even carried you all the way down here. He straddles your waist, and you scream profanities, lashing out at the man you once called a friend.

Emmett tries pleading with you to hear him out, he tries to muffle your screams with his hand. But instead, you retaliate by biting it. He grunts in pain, now retrieving it. He's not amused at all by your little rebellious stunt. This wasn't you. He doesn't have time for any temper tantrums. He's not angry, only determined, "Fine, have it your way," he's done having to fight for what's rightfully his.

He could've let you die out there, just like your teammates. It was your fault for trespassing, you were the ones who triggered his trap. Instead, he'd given you a new purpose in life. You'll never be exposed to the dangers of the outside world again. He'll make sure of it.

During the past few months, Emmett went absolutely feral. He couldn't keep his hands off you. Just this morning, you'd woken up to him buried deep inside you pussy, grunting like some sort of animal in a rut as he pounded that tight little cunt of yours. Still half asleep, you tried your best to ignore him. But when he raises your leg over his shoulder to deepen the thrusts, you couldn't hold it in. Small grunts escape your lips as you turn your head to the side, avoiding his gaze.

He leans in, "Hey...hey pretty girl, don't hide from me..." a hand cups the side of your cheek, turning you to face him. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, his hips still jutting in and out your channel. You were just starting to get used to his pace when suddenly he starts picking up speed. Your hands reach out to halt his movements, but he wrenches them off. Now pinning them to your sides as he chases his climax.

You feel the familiar sensation of his spunk now filling your womb. It's hot and sticky, some of it drips down and staining the sheets, "Fuck..." Emmett knew he should've laid out a towel. By now there was a small puddle of your juices mixed together. He would have to see if there were any blankets during his next run.

"Sh... just go back to sleep," he whispers. He couldn't help himself. He was tired and sore after spending most of the day scavenging for supplies. But as soon as he saw you sleeping soundly, in that sexy slip-on he’d gifted a while back, well, he just couldn't help himself. Is it not in his nature? There was no way you didn't know the power you had on him. He sighs, admiring your bow tuckered form.

It was a smart idea chaining you to the bed post. That reminds him, the purpose of today's trip. Emmett retrieves a salve from his bag. He starts rubbing it into the raw skin of your ankle before covering it with a gauze, "I'm sorry..."

"No, you're not…" you whisper to him. You're right, he's not. He kept both of your hands wrapped up in fabric bindings, so that you wouldn't hurt him or yourself. At first, he didn't mind the scratches, but when you almost claw his eyes out, that's when the idea had struck.

Emmett had warned you that the people weren't the same since then, including himself. He won't admit it, but as soon as he laid eyes on your unconscious form, the only thing he could think of was planting his seed deep inside you. He knew it was a good idea to save you, or was it you who saved him?

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 1 - Home is where I want to be

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

Warnings for: death of a loved one, grief, angst (it gonna be angsty!), Bucky not always being a good guy.

You sighed heavily as you pulled up to the house in your beaten-up Mustang. Hard to believe you were back, but life certainly has a sense of humour.

You parked up and leaned against the driver’s door, looking up at your new home.

Well, old home.

Granny’s place.

Once the centre of your world – a place of home baked cookies and tyre swings, of blanket forts and climbed trees. Of carefully tended to scraped knees and long hugs on the couch in front of Granny’s favourite shows. Sitcom reruns and Murder She Wrote, more lemonade than you could ever feasibly drink.

You came to visit every summer and they were the best summers of your life. But of course, you got older. As you grew, you wanted to spend your summers with friends, to kiss boys and go to the diner with Stacey and Monique. Granny’s place would always hold a large piece of your heart, but you grew up. You looked back now with a sense of sadness, wishing you’d gone for one more summer. Maybe two.

Granny understood. She was always telling you to spread your wings and live. ‘Don’t tread water, Cub’, she’d tell you. ‘Go out there and enjoy yourself’.

And you did. Maybe a little too hard.

You stayed close with Granny despite the physical distance between you as you moved across the state for school. Plenty of phone calls and letters were shared, and she’d send you novelty postcards she found at gas stations and thought you’d find funny. You still had a pile stored in a shoebox, now shoved into your car’s trunk with all your other worldly possessions.

You still visited occasionally, always telling yourself you needed to come more – she needed someone to clear out the attic, to sort out her paperwork, fix the old fence. You should sort that. The town was nice enough, but the biker gang that owned the local dive bar and auto shop gave you a bad feeling. You’d hear the roar of their motorcycles late at night, feeling grateful that was Granny was safe on the outskirts of town.

A few months ago, just as you were looking at your calendar to arrange your next visit, she suffered a sudden, huge heart attack. The hospital staff told you on the phone that it was quick, mercifully. She was in front of the TV, sipping a cup of tea. It would’ve been exactly how she wanted to go, quick and comfortable in her castle. No long, drawn-out illness. No forgetting her own name or wasting away in a bed. She often told you her worst nightmare was to become a burden and forget the life she’d lived.

But you couldn’t shed the guilt that she died alone. If you’d been there…

Your parents meant well but weren’t particularly distraught. You and Granny were closer than anyone else in the family. Still, ever the pragmatists, they arranged the funeral and filed the paperwork while you pulled yourself together. Granny was organised enough to have a will, and even had a document in her bureau with details of her finances and who to contact for every possible loose end that might need tying up in the event of her death.

Despite your closeness, it was still a huge shock when you found out she’d left the house solely to you, and nobody else in the family. Her few savings were divided between her children and other grandchildren. But you got the house.

‘Cub’, read the note in the will. ‘You loved this place, so it’s yours. I don’t care what you do with it. You can sell up and use the proceeds to take a vacation for all I care. Buy a fancy car or a designer bag or even invest in something dumb. You can stay here and lay down roots. Whatever you want. It’s all yours. Just fix that damn fence before you do anything’.

Nobody in the family quibbled it. The property wasn’t worth much, and nobody wanted to sort through Granny’s things, so here you were. Still mourning, but trying to move forward.

You didn’t really have a plan. You weren’t exactly set up in life, even flailing, some might say. Flitting between bullshit jobs and bullshittier boyfriends. No real roots or ambitions. You decided to move in for a while and sort the house out. Maybe get a temp part time job in town to keep you afloat. At least you didn’t have to pay rent. Then you’d sort Granny’s things, give the place a lick of paint, fix the aforementioned damn fence, then you’d decide. But you’d probably sell up. I mean, what would keep you here?

*

You spent a few hours getting your own stuff moved in and sizing up the task ahead. Granny’s place was clean, spotless in fact, but she was a bit of a hoarder. There were endless Rubbermaid tubs of clothes and blankets, spices in the pantry older than you were, and cardboard boxes of seemingly every birthday and Christmas card she’d ever received.

You also weren’t prepared for the emotional impact. Every corner held a childhood memory, you could practically hear the radio she used to play as she cooked, smell whatever mouthwatering dish she’d be whipping up that day.

You channelled your energy into the work and made some calls. There was a Goodwill store in town and a women’s refuge a few miles away, and they were very keen to take some of Granny’s things off your hands. You made plans to do some drop-offs over the coming weeks. You arranged to have wifi installed and took some time getting utility bills moved into your name.

You sat at the dining room table with a glass of water, exhausted, when your phone buzzed with a text notification.

“Hey! Are you here? How about we catch up with drinks tonight?”

Wanda. The one person you knew in this town apart from Granny. You’d played together as kids and hung out every summer. As you got older, you stayed in touch on social media and would go for coffee when you visited Granny. You liked her a lot. She had reached out to you when Granny died (as apparently everyone knows everyone here) and you’d thanked her. You kept her updated with your plans with the move. She’d always stayed here in this town, getting serious with her boyfriend Vis and settling down.

Part of you wanted to keep your head down, but you knew you’d benefit from some company, especially Wanda’s. You didn’t want to be the weird recluse living in her dead grandmother’s house who only ventured outside to buy groceries. Besides, it would be nice to reconnect with her.

“Hey!”, you replied. “Sure am. Just getting comfortable. Okay, sure. I could use a drink. Where we going?”

She responded seconds later. “The Snake Pit. Yeah, I know it sounds scary but it’s okay, really! The Howling Commandos own it, but they’re cool when you get to know them. Vis and I will pick you up at 8?”

You sighed. Great. Drinking in some biker gang’s sleazy dive bar. This was your life now. Well, you’d had worse Saturday nights.

“Alright. See you then” you fired back before you could talk yourself out of it.

*

Wanda was right. The Snake Pit was okay. A little dark and dingy inside, but a more varied clientele than you’d expected. There was everyone from excitable college girls to the old geezers nursing a single bottle of Bud for over an hour. You had worked in bars; you knew the types well. It wasn’t the rowdy biker gang hangout you expected, but you guessed options are limited for drinkers when there’s only one drinking hole in town.

The bartender was a little all over the place, messing up a few orders and rushing to get everything done. He seemed to be serving people haphazardly with little regard for who was there first. Fine. Whatever.

Splayed across barstools and were the Howling Commandos themselves. All clad in heavy leather and denim, they joked and drank beer with each other while keeping a close eye on the customers. You got the impression they weren’t necessarily looking for trouble but wouldn’t hesitate to deal with it should some occur. A broad blonde with a thick beard seemed to be in charge, you could see in the way the others hovered around him that he held some sort of authority. They were quite intimidating in their matching kuttes and big boots, but you supposed that was the point.

The blonde man locked eyes with you and watched you, a mix of curiosity and wariness on his face. His eyes were blue and strong, the intensity of his glare causing you to turn away as you went back to nodding at the story Wanda was telling. You had a strange feeling of dread in your stomach, but maybe that was just the anxiety of being somewhere new.

“You wanna play pool?” she asked, nodding towards the corner.

There were a couple of pool tables and the back of the room, with a dartboard nailed to the wall not far from them.

“Sure,” you smiled as you stood up and grabbed your drink, “I’m a little rusty…it’s been a while”.

“Modesty I’m sure,” Vis grinned as they followed you over. “I bet you’re secretly a dark horse”.

You winked jokingly as the three of you laughed and moved towards the table. It was nice to catch up with them, you settled in so comfortably together that it was as if you did this every week.

As you set up the balls and chalked your cue, you felt the presence of a group moving behind you. The Commandos group had moved from the bar and headed to the dart board, jeering and laughing as they lined up to take their turn. A striking redhead, the sole woman in the group, was busting their balls about their darts ability (or lack thereof).

“Hey” you heard Wanda say softly as you moved around the table, and a few of them murmured greetings back at her.

They were being loud and obnoxious as they ragged on each other for their poor aim, and you suppressed an eyeroll as you leaned over the table to take your shot.

The laughter got louder as you pulled your cue back and aimed, they were practically shouting, you pushed your cue forward through your fingers and moved to the ball and-

Pain.

PAIN.

You flinched and your legs buckled as the cue clipped the ball and sent it flying in the wrong direction. You felt a pressure and a sting as your brain tried to catch up with what had happened. You could hear Wanda gasping and Vis talking to you calmly as another voice interrupted.

“Ohmygod…Ohmygodsorry…I didn’t…oh my god, FUCK” they said, the panic evident.

You turned and looked, to your horror, to discover one of the darts embedded in one of your ass cheeks. This surely couldn’t be happening??

As you turned back towards the panicking voice in front of you, it became immediately evident who was the perpetrator.

He was young, chocolate brown hair slicked back to reveal a baby face. Wide, horrified chestnut eyes stared at you. Despite the kutte and motorcycle boots, he looked like a scared little boy. Behind him stood members of the gang, some smirking, some rolling their eyes and nudging each other. They didn’t intervene, just enjoyed the show. You felt your face flush with mortification.

“What…what the fuck is wrong with you?” you spat, furious as well as in pain. You noticed the entire bar had stopped to watch. You gripped the dart but couldn’t quite build up the courage to pull it out.

“Are you stupid...?” you continued as he just stared at you, his mouth flapping like a fish as he tried and failed to explain himself.

Wanda said your name in a wary tone and Vis told you it was okay. Even through your angry haze you could tell they were nervous about where this was going.

“Hey…come on now,” said someone else. “You all shut up”.

The group quickly parted and quietened as the blonde man from earlier appeared in front of you. “Parker…” he sighed under his breath.

“Look…it was an accident, okay?” he told you sternly. “I’m sorry…look, I’m Steve, I’m the co-owner and-”

“I don’t care!” you hissed. “What the fuck kinda place are you running here?”

You knew you sounded shrill, but you were upset and embarrassed. And it hurt! You were half aware of the group suddenly tensing up, the atmosphere in the air shifting to something a bit darker.

The man raised a brow in annoyance and went to speak again when you suddenly yelped, feeling a hard sting in your bottom half and then an immediate loss of pressure.

Someone had yanked the dart out.

You turned, aghast, to a man who had suddenly appeared behind you.

“What the fu-,” you exclaimed as you looked at him.

Your words died on your tongue as you were greeted by the face of the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Long, coffee-coloured waves of hair sat at his well-chiselled jawline. Big, broad shoulders stretched out a clinging white t-shirt beneath his kutte. He had a metal arm that moved robotically, but mostly you were caught in the depths of the cerulean pools of his eyes. The others all seemed to straighten up and go quiet in a way they hadn’t even done with Steve. This must be the other owner, then.

He smirked and waved the dart in front of you. “Fixed it”.

You furrowed your brows. “Ow…” you said monotonously.

“You want some ice for that or…?” he smiled a wide bright smile, and you did your best to ignore something igniting deep within you.

“It’s funny, is it?” you scowled. “I could sue for this…”

Could you? You didn’t know if you could. But you were too mad to stop.

The man sighed.

“Look…we’re sorry. Parker’s sorry. Steve’s sorry, and I, Bucky, am sorry,” he told you, his voice softening. “Parker can’t play darts for shit but he’s never been a safety hazard until now. It was bad luck. He sure as hell won’t be playing again. Now, how about we get you and your friends a round of drinks on the house to apologise? And if you still wanna stay after that, you can get as much beer and pool as you want – no charge.”

You looked at Parker who was still visibly panicking but not quite as much, then Steve who watched you curiously. Wanda and Vis were nodding effusively as if encouraging you to accept his offer. You were still angry but didn’t really want to piss off the local motorcycle gang on your first night here. You were grateful for this de-escalation, even if you were still mad. You could practically see the room start to relax again.

“Fine” you sighed with defeat, rubbing the sore spot on your backside. “But a warning you were about to do that would’ve been nice”.

He laughed, “Yeah…but I didn’t want you to freak out”.

Ugh. His laugh. His perfect laugh.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he was right, you would’ve freaked out if you’d known. You felt yourself mellowing, then became irritated at yourself for folding so easily for a handsome man. Habit of a lifetime, huh?

“Maybe you should still ask before getting that close to someone” you muttered.

“Point taken”.

He smiled with amusement and gestured you towards the bar and you followed, nodding to Wanda and Vis that you’d be right back. The rest of the bar’s patrons went back to their drinks and conversations as if nothing had happened. The darts game continued, with Parker noticeably sitting down away from anything sharp and pointy.

“He means well…he’s new at all this,” Bucky explained as he watched your eyes follow Parker. “He gets ahead of himself when they rile him up”.

“Well, your friends thought it was hilarious”.

“Trust me, they were laughing at him. Not at you. But yeah, it was kinda funny”.

You huffed and leaned on the bar, giving him a side eye and only replying with your drink order. Bucky signalled to the bartender who nodded and looked flustered as tried to speed up serving his customer.

“Your bartender sucks” you muttered.

“I mean he’s a little slow but-,”

“No. He sucks. Why is he doing a Guinness now? You pour a Guinness first and let it settle, do the rest of the drinks, then come back and top it off,” you explained as you pointed to the sloppily poured lager he’d put on the bar. “And does your customer want any beer with that foam?”

Bucky laughed again. “Well, okay. Point taken, Sugar. Are you saying you could do better?”

“Sure. A monkey could do better…”

He laughed again, turning to look at you as he smiled and watched you with curious eyes. “What did you say your name was again…?”

*

[etherealising]

interlude two | anyone who had a heart

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣ |

pairing: carmy x fem!reader | platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader | carmen berzatto x his delusions | carmen berzatto x self-sabotage | fem!reader x weakness for short slutty men with blue eyes | fem!reader x slutty gold chains | fem!reader x BEING FUCKING WEAK FOR SMARMY CARMY |

summary: the devastion of mikey's passing pushes baby into the arms of the man she loves the most.

warning(s): death | grief | funeral | refusal to grieve | denial | kinda delusional behavior | unhealthy coping mechanisms | angst | fluff | longing | mutual pining | idiots in love | love drunk carmy | probably ooc!carmy | wise willie | zero accuracy regarding new york | baby letting men pump and dump her | SMUT | P IN V | UNPROTECTED SEX | SOFT!DOM READER | VANILLA SEX | EMOTIONAL TENDER SEX |

wc: 17.3k

edited to the best of my abilities. if things don't make sense i apologize!

March 1, 2022

The rain rhythmically bounced off the umbrella in Richie’s hand. Both of you huddled under the slightly too-small object, the majority of your bodies dry, but each of you felt your fair share of rain land squarely on you. The child in front of you, dry as a desert, her small stature an advantage.

All that could be heard was nature's tears singing against the various umbrellas and the voice of the priest that seemed to just drone on and on.

Donna’s cry’s had been relegated to silent sobs just moments ago, you watched as Nat put her own hurt and discomfort aside to assuage Donna’s nerves.

You had all but ignored the empty seat situated next to Natalie, not wanting to believe the truth of the situation. As you stared at the coffin resting several feet in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder what the cold lifeless body lying inside looked like. You knew there was only so much that could be done to make a body with a hole in its head presentable, and that a closed-casket funeral was for the best.

It was selfish, but you wanted one last look at Mikey. Did he look peaceful? Was he finally freed from the vices that had for so long controlled him? You so hoped that wherever he was, wherever his soul found its spiritual comforts he was at peace.

A tug on the sleeve of your coat drew your attention. Looking down your eyes met Eva's, the little girl insisted on standing with you, her small toddler hand securely wrapped in your adult one. It felt a little odd to be standing here like this, a buffer between a family that was no more, while also serving as the memory of one family’s missing piece.

She raised her arms in a signal to be picked up. Funerals were no place for children to be, but what good was lying to them about the realities of life? You gently lifted her into your arms sitting her on your hip comfortably. Eva’s small head rested against yours playing with the pearls around your neck, the small girl could only understand so much of what was going on around her.

You felt Tiff step closer to you, arm wrapping around your waist so she leaned into Eva’s back. The comfort of the small family surrounding you keeps you grounded to the moment in front of you, not allowing your mind to think of the pain Mikey must’ve been in, or the voicemail that had gone unchecked for the past week.

Funerals were a funny thing for you, the last one you attended was your mom’s. And it wasn’t a competition, but her death was easier. That’s the thing with terminal illness; death is inevitable. You would never be prepared for any death in your life, but it was a bit easier knowing your mom didn’t have a fighting chance. Her decision to leave this realm behind was harder, but knowing her passing was painless and of her own volition helped.

But Mikey’s death was different. It was sudden, unexpected, and messy and it wasn’t the death Michael deserved. But what made it all the worse for you is that he was utterly and terribly alone.

And it wasn’t like anyone wasn’t privy to his substance abuse, but none of you knew the depths to which it ate away at him, how it slowly killed him and he kept pushing on for the sake of others.

Maybe you should’ve asked him more about how he was doing when you interviewed him. Maybe you shouldn’t have sent him a portion of your article. Standing at the cemetery as the funeral continued, even with little Eva cuddling into you and Tiff and Richie surrounding you; you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to all the things you could’ve done to save Mikey from himself.

Eva was asleep against your chest as you made your way to the fresh grave, Tiff in front of you and Richie closely behind doing his best to cover your small group with the umbrella. The rain hadn’t let up as you raised your dirt-filled hand over the pristine casket, this didn’t feel right at all. You had yet to cry since Sugar called you days ago with the news, it felt as though you were numb to the truth. Maybe it was your mind's way of protecting you.

But as long as the casket remained closed, and you never got one last peek at the man who had taught you that you deserved more than what you settled for. You could pretend for just a little longer that none of this was real.

Releasing your grip on the dirt you watched as it splashed across the top of the casket mixing with the droplets of rain. You hesitated for a minute turning your back on this casket felt too final, like leaving this cemetery would be closing a door in your life you were desperate to keep open.

Richie’s free hand came up to your shoulder, a soft squeeze pressed into your jacket. You looked back at him the same hurt and pain you were feeling reflected on his face. He gave you a small nod as a way to let you know that it was okay to walk away, that he understood the hurt you were feeling.

As Tiff walked off to her car, you held Eva in one hand and allowed Richie to grip your other. The warm grasp of his hand gave you the strength to turn your back and walk away from a man whose love, charisma, and smile you would never be blessed to see or experience again.

March 12, 2022

Carmy sat on his lawn chair watching the rain splash against the window that led to his balcony, the funeral program rested lazily on his lap held in place by his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He didn’t realize it but this had been his routine since he learned of his brother's passing.

He would come home not even bothering to change out of his work clothes and plop down in the creaky lawn chair, usually on his balcony but recently the weather hadn’t been calm enough for that.

Light up a cigarette and just bask in his despair.

The only difference had been the program he received in the mail a week ago. The newly acquired folded paper joined his after-work routine for the day after being left on the island in his kitchen since receiving it. 

Carmy wasn’t sure if he was angry at Mikey for choosing death, or if he was more hurt by what they would never again be able to experience with each other. He felt like once again Mikey had left him behind, not thinking about the ways his actions would affect those around him, affect the people who loved him.

The decision to skip the funeral wasn’t as hard as most would have thought. What good would Carmy have to offer by being there, it's not like anyone needed him. And anyway, he couldn’t just drop everything happening here in New York for a day, life didn’t work that way for him. 

Carmy knew he didn’t hate Mikey, he just didn’t understand his choices recently. Didn’t necessarily understand how much the prescriptions had fucked with his mind. And maybe in a selfish way, he wasn’t ready to understand, to forgive Mikey for leaving him so soon. Nothing to even show for the loss of the person who inspired him most besides the funeral program as an ugly reminder of what he could never be again.

A soft knock rang through the quiet apartment, the man inside happy to ignore it, sure it was just one of his neighbors doing whatever weird shit they usually did. He removed a cigarette from his pack standing up and setting the program in the chair before grabbing his lighter and moving to open the window.

He heard it again, this time a bit louder and more urgent sounding. Carmy removed his phone from his pocket, the generic lock screen shining up at him with the time reading 2:30 am.

No one had ever shown up at his apartment this late, not even the woman across the way who periodically tried to charm Carmy all kinds of inconvenient times of the night. The knocking finally stopped as muffled voices carried through the hallway outside his door.

Carmy wouldn’t consider himself a nosy neighbor but he did find himself a bit curious who was knocking at his door at such an hour it alerted another tenant. Cigarette sitting between his lips he made his way to the door, ear leaned against it as he tried to catch bits and pieces of the conversation happening out there.

Having no such luck he resorted to checking the peephole to find his neighbor outside her door talking with a woman who appeared to be soaked to the bone. Carmy watched for a moment, he couldn’t place it but something about the unknown woman looked familiar to him. He continued watching his neighbor motioning for the woman to wait outside for a moment while she grabbed something from her apartment.

Carmy was ready to return to his initial smoke break but found himself stopping as the woman faced his door. Heart stopping as he took in features he would remember for a lifetime. He quickly moved to unlock his door, throwing it open only to surprise the ghost of a woman standing in his hallway.

You ceased your knocking as you heard a door opening behind you, turning to face a woman who appeared to be around the same age as you. From her appearance, it didn’t seem like you had woken her up so you were grateful for that fact.

“You’re making a mess in the hallway,” her eyes traveled over your form. Your figure sopping wet from the downpour you just escaped from.

A tired sigh left your lips, “Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know the guy who lives here?” Your hand motioned to the door that was at your back that you had just been knocking on. 

“You a friend or something?” The skepticism in the woman’s voice irked you, it was a yes or no question there was no need for her to give you the third degree.

You nodded trying to keep your cool. You were tired, dripping wet, and you weren’t even sure if Carmy was home. “Yeah, something like that.”

She gave you another once over before shaking her head back and forth, “No I don’t, sorry.” She began to close her door before you called out to her one last time.

“Wait sorry, is there any way I could use your phone, mine is dead,” you presented your phone as evidence, you didn’t want to be in this woman’s presence any more than she wanted to put up with you, but you needed to at least call a cab.

The subtle roll of her eyes caused the grip on your phone to tighten, luckily though the woman gave you a gesture to wait there before returning to her apartment.

You let out a sigh of relief, head dropping as your thoughts raced. You had no idea what the hell was going through your mind when you booked the last-minute flight. Having found Carmen’s address written on a forgotten piece of paper lying in the kitchen of the Berzatto family home.

The excuse to Sugar was that you had to meet with a potential interviewee for an upcoming article and couldn’t reschedule. You had already been in Chicago for longer than you originally planned, so what was one impromptu plane ride to the east coast?

There was no sign that the woman you bothered was coming back anytime soon so you decided to cut your losses, you would find a pay phone or something to use. You turned around sending one last look at Carmy’s door, the feeling that this was all for nothing setting in.

You went to pick up your bag from the ground when the sounds of a door unlocking caught your attention, raising back up to your full height as you watched the door you were initially knocking on harshly swing open.

Separated by a threshold Carmen Berzatto stood in front of you clad in his disheveled chef whites looking just as exhausted as you felt. You promised yourself you wouldn’t cry if this trip did end up paying off, but after five years without him, five years of hurting and hoping you could no longer hold back all the emotions the man evoked within you.

Your trembling lips raised into a pathetic smile as your eyes took all of him in, “Hi Carmy.”

The water dripped off of you as you awkwardly stood in the entryway to Carmy’s apartment. You watched him rush around to tidy up his apartment, he hadn’t said a word to you yet just opened his door wider with the expectation that you would enter.

“Carm,” your trembling voice doing nothing to stop the scrambling of the man in front of you.

“Carmen.” The name left your lips a little louder this time, finally gaining the man’s attention, his entire being turning in your direction but eyes never meeting yours. “Uh, could I maybe take a shower?”

Carmy’s head nodded rapidly, staying glued to his spot for a moment before he signaled for you to follow him. As you walked through the apartment to his bedroom you couldn’t help but take in just how Carmy-like the living space was.

Lacking personal touch and like he was ready to flee at a moment's notice; the only commitment the man could make was being a chef apparently.

You stopped in front of the bathroom looking around his room before finally focusing on him. “I, do you think I could borrow some clothes?”

Again Carmy nodded the man acting as though his voice box wasn’t working. You watched him move around his room wondering if he’d ever award you any form of attention or verbal acknowledgment. He stopped for a minute eyes finally finding yours, “Go ahead and get cleaned up, I’ll leave these on the bed.”

Your eyes found the contents in his hand before it was your turn to nod and head into the bathroom. You started the shower searching for a towel and washcloth as you waited for the water to heat up. This whole trip could very well be a mistake, but there was no going back now, you were here, and you had already used your miles. 

Slipping out of your wet clothes felt like a struggle, the heavy fabric clinging to you like a second skin. You quickly stepped into the shower, not wanting any of the water to go to waste. The steaming water helped to relax you, all your worries about your visit being set aside as you basked in the warmth radiating around you.

After standing under the shower head and allowing the water to caress your skin, you reached for the products Carmy had lined up in his shower. The shower gel is the same brand you used all those years ago on Christmas. Looking at the bottle in your hands you couldn’t help but think of all the ways in which Carmy wronged you, why you had allowed him to constantly hurt you, a fact you still couldn’t figure out.

And you couldn’t stand here in his shower glaring at a bottle the whole time you were here either. You took your time lathering your body allowing the calming aroma of lavender to invade your senses. Finishing you returned everything to its proper spot before rinsing your body and shutting the shower off.

Stepping out you wrapped the large fluffy towel around your body not chancing a glance at your reflection as you exited the bathroom. The door to the bedroom was closed and the clothes you saw in Carmy’s hands earlier sat in a neat pile on the bed. You perused the selection of a clean pair of boxer shorts, one of his many crew necks and a pair of socks were laid out for you.

The deja vu the last few sequences of events had given you hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

You would have to forgo a bra but you’d been in much more uncomfortable positions with Carmy than this. Dressing you made your way to the door, stopping for a moment to allow yourself a deep breath, you couldn’t be sure what you would be walking into. Along with the fact that you were in a city you had never been in and your return flight wasn’t for two more days, Carmy was your only option. 

The warmth in the apartment slapped you in the face as you left Carmy’s room, the heater had been turned on. You followed the trail you had first taken finding your way to the living room that doubled as a kitchen.

“Sit,” you were almost ready to argue with Carmy’s demanding tone, but the food situated on the island counter stopped you.

You made your way to the lone stool taking a seat, trying not to marvel at the food in front of you. Carmy’s water bill would be high for the month, you had apparently been in the shower long enough for a dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup to be made. Carmy still hard at work making something on the stovetop sans his chef jacket.

Eyeing the food in front of you, you couldn’t help the way your mouth watered. You greedily picked up a slice of the grilled cheese and dipped it into the hearty soup, The sigh of appreciation not going unnoticed by the chef a few feet away from you, a small smirk gracing his lips at the quiet sound you let out.

“Good?” The question caught you off guard, mouth still full, swallowing the bite in your mouth you set the rest of the sandwich down, eyes zeroing in on Carmy’s biceps that were put on full display by his form-fitting white shirt. 

“I’ve had better.” Carmy caught your shrug as he placed a steaming mug next to the rest of your food, doing his best not to outright smile at your stubborn attitude. He moved to lean his back against the sink, arms crossed over his chest as he studied you.

“Fuck Carmy,” the sigh left your lips reluctantly. “It’s actually fucking great.” So enthralled with the food set in front of you, you missed the pink blush that dusted across Carmy’s cheeks. The heat in the apartment almost felt like too much as the lewd words left your lips.

“Ahem, I uh, I’m gonna get cleaned up. Make yourself comfortable,” Carmy watched as you waved him off, the food you were eating stealing all of your attention.

Carmy watched you for a moment longer, still shocked that your physical presence was here in his apartment. He wasn’t sure what prompted this visit, or if he even deserved your attention after all the immature shit he had pulled. But he was thankful to see you doing well, to see you looking as though you belonged with him in his bland apartment the clothes comfortably sitting on your body providing him with a feeling of domesticity he was one day hoping to have with you.

The mug of hot chocolate in your hands helped to send warmth through your body. You were still sitting at the stool not sure what to do as Carmy freshened himself up. Now that you weren’t shivering cold and rushing through the apartment you could finally take in the less than cozy abode. 

It wasn’t much but you were sure it was enough for Carmy, taking a few sips of your drink you began ambling around the apartment, mug still gripped in your hands, a tether to reality. The living room wasn’t messy but more so what you would describe as Carmy’s version of organized clutter.

A small couch and television helped to offer a homey feeling. The out-of-place lawn chair caught your eye, and the corner of your lips quirked up at how fucking Carmy it was. You made your way to the window it was sitting in front of, the New York skyline at this time of the day still a sight to see. The rain gliding down the window felt like it matched the steady pace of your heartbeat.

Turning to the lawn chair the contents in the seat grabbed your attention. Leaning over you picked up the unassuming paper, a jolt of sadness rushing through you as you read over the program. The funeral a week ago is still stuck in the back of your mind, the closed sleek black casket haunting your eyelids every night.

You quickly replaced the program in its original spot. You had come here intending to confront Carmy about his absence, but the more you stood in his apartment, the more you realized you weren’t actually ready to hear Carmy’s truth.

48 hours was all you had here, if you decided to use it as an escape, so be it. You would have to return to the reality that Mikey was dead sooner than later. You were allowed to let yourself use the time spent here as an escape from reality. You could use your time here to reprimand Carmy for his life decisions, or you could use the borrowed time to relish in finally seeing him after five years and try to figure out the back and forth the two of you have been participating in for a majority of your lives.

Mikey would understand, he wanted you to be happy, so it was okay to pretend for a little while that he’d be waiting there in Chicago when you got back right?

You made your way back to the kitchenette needing a distraction from the very thoughts you were running away from. You finished off your hot cocoa before grabbing your remaining dishes and heading to the sink. Washing dishes was the first distraction you could think of. 

As you made your way to the sink the sound of a door opening and feet padding across the floor could be heard. Quickly turning on the faucet you reached for the dish rag sitting in the sink, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the pain that shot through the base of your palm, the running water easily turning a translucent pink color.

Snatching your hand back you spotted the blade of a knife that was covered in drops of your blood and haphazardly hidden under the dish rag. Your good hand reached to move the dish rag and grab the offending object. 

Finally getting a good grip on the knife, you were shocked at the familiarity of it, the personal initials carved into the handle proving your theory. The last time you laid eyes on these they were neatly tucked away into a luxurious gift box that Carmy discarded just as easily as he discarded you the morning after Christmas. 

And you thought they had been left in the same spot all these years, collecting dust in his childhood bedroom. But as you held a knife from the set in your hand, and your eyes moved to the remaining set delicately placed on the counter not too far away, you realized that to be nowhere near the truth. 

“Yo, what the fuck Baby,” your attention turned to Carmy’s voice behind you his figure clad in a pair of sweats and a white tank top. That stupid fucking gold chain that you had dreamed of taking between your teeth one too many times glistened against the firmness of his chest.

The delicate grip on your injured hand tore your eyes from the sinful chain. Carmy’s eyes raised your hand to his face examining the seriousness of the wound, “What happened?” 

“Cut myself,” you raised the knife in your hand to show him, watching as his eye darted between you and the tool he took so much pride in owning.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” Carmen Berzatto’s attitude would never cease to surprise you.

You scoffed quickly snatching your hand from his grip, and walking to grab the dish towel hanging from his oven, “I didn’t do it on purpose you fucking idiot.” 

Carmy began rummaging around in his cabinets his search not continuing for too long before he made his way over to you, first aid kit in his grasp. You were honestly surprised he owned one sure he’d rather bask in his pain than take care of himself.

Your good hand shot out aiming to grab the first aid kit from his hands. The slight slap to your hand caused your mouth to drop open, who the hell did he think he was?

“Give me the kit Carmen.” You watched as his eyes met yours, the once blank expression on his face morphing into a frown. 

“Don’t say my name like that,” you rolled your eyes before reaching out once again, only to receive the same result. “Just let me help you. Why are you being so fucking stubborn!”

You raised your eyebrows not expecting Carmy to yell at you. Your hand reluctantly came up between the two of you so he could bandage it up. It was official that you were weak for this man, the demanding tone in his voice shooting straight through you. 

The two of you sat in silence as Carmy cleaned the cut, the consensus was that you didn’t need stitches so the ointment and bandages Carmy had would do. You watched as he worked, hands delicately mending your wound he was so focused on.

When he finished you lowered your hand watching as he cleaned up before you made your exit to the living room, sitting on one side of the couch. Your back was to the kitchen as Carmy finished tidying up, the only sign he followed you out was him walking around the couch in your peripheral.

He joined you on the couch choosing the safe option and sitting directly across from you, the space speaks volumes. You brought your legs up to your chest, if this was a month ago you probably would have let all your hurt and anger guide you in this moment. 

But as life taught you, the universe was eager to snatch away people you thought you had forever with. 

It was silent for a little longer, the both of you avoiding eye contact. You finally turned to face him wanting to understand the choices he made regarding the situation between you two.

“Carmy?” You rested your chin atop your knees as he finally provided you with his full attention, “Did I do something wrong?”

His eyebrows raised, whether, from shock or surprise, you couldn’t be sure. You watched as his eyes darted across the room like he was looking for an anchor. You weren’t too sure who adult Carmy was, because the boy you used to know easily held conversations with you, even the tough ones. 

“I just…I want to understand you, Carmy. And I want to know why I’m not good enough for you,” as soon as those words left your lips it was like you were looking at 18-year-old Carmy again. “I thou-we seemed to be in a good place after Christmas dinner, but then I woke up alone and…and it felt like we were back at square one like you ghosted me all over again.”

You were staring directly into Carmy’s eyes, it was hard but it needed to be done. You needed him to see, to understand how much his actions continued hurting you. 

His hand raised in a gesture you had seen too many times to count, fingers running through his hair. If he didn’t want to have this conversation you couldn’t force him to, but you also wouldn’t keep allowing him to run in and out of your life when it was convenient for him. The two of you were friends once, and you weren’t going to allow him to continue exploiting the love you had for him.

Your arms wrapped around your propped-up legs, a security blanket for the words you were about to force out. “You can be honest with me, Carmy. If you told me you wanted nothing to do with me I’d be on the next flight out of here.” You waited for anything, a sigh, words, but all you got was his steel blue eyes staring you down in the space across from you. 

A sardonic chuckle escaped your lips as you quickly wiped the tears racing down your cheeks. Head falling back to stare at the ceiling as a way to not allow Carmy to see your tears, before calming yourself down enough to meet his gaze head-on.

“I can’t be the only one that wants more for us Carmy.” You could see the light reflecting off the glazed film in his eyes. “And I don’t think I am. But you’re inconsistent with your feelings, and I know it’s wrong of me to spring this on you considering the circumstances…but I just need honesty Carmy, that’s all.”

You said your peace, but you weren’t sure what else you could say to try to make him understand and maybe that was the problem, maybe he didn’t want to understand. You leaned into the couch cushion for comfort. The distance stretching between you was nowhere near as hurtful as the silence.

The fatigue from your flight was beginning to set in, you rushed everything to make it here that you hadn’t realized how much of a toll it took on you. 

Carmy watched you from his side of the couch, arms crossed against his chest. There was so much he wanted to say to you but didn’t know how. He knew you deserved the truth, but it had never before been asked of him in this context. He was scared of the fact that he wanted more with you; it  frightened him.

The idea he had of the two of you in his head was intoxicating and unnerving all at once. He could admit to himself that he dreamed of a life with you, and found himself lost in thought too many times to count about what it would be like to come home after a long shift to you there waiting for him.

Carmen was intoxicated by the idea of spending the rest of his life with you, a continuous beacon in your life that surpassed the title of friend and edged into something more. But he was unnerved as well because he wasn’t sure if this was love or infatuation.

Loving you unnerved Carmy, firstly because he wasn’t sure how he would know he was in love with you or not. And secondly, he didn’t know how to love you and wasn’t sure if he was capable of it. If there was one thing Carmy knew it was that you were deserving of a life-altering love, a love that transcended lifetimes if possible.

But he was almost positive he couldn’t be that person for you, he wasn’t deserving of you.

“I uh, I tried calling you,” Carmy stopped to collect himself, he wanted to talk to you, to let you understand him like you once did. “You changed your number. And that’s not an excuse. I understood why. I just…I guess I took it as a sign that there was nothing left for us.”

His eyes met yours searching for any sort of reaction, any form of acknowledgment. Your puffy eyes and tear-stained face stared back at him, his heart clenching in his chest at the emotional distress he constantly put you through.

“I um,” a placating smile raised to Carmy’s lips as he fumbled with his fingers as a distraction. “I can’t-Baby I-we both know I can’t give you what you deserve.” Carmy did his best to play off the watery undertone in his voice, eyes quickly darting up to yours as he heard your sniffles.

Carmy watched as your head rapidly nodded up and down, a sad knowing smile stretching across your lips. The tightness in his chest increased tenfold, his hand coming up to press into the middle of his chest, hoping to alleviate the pain. 

“I um, I think I would like to go to sleep if that’s okay?” You raised your head to look at Carmy, you told him you would accept his rejection, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to hurt. 

Carmy nodded getting up and walking towards you, holding his hand out to help you up. You allowed him to grasp your soft hand in his firm calloused one, head down as he led you to his bedroom. He motioned for you to sit down on his bed as he escaped into the bathroom, coming back a moment later with tissues in his hand.

You avoided his eyes as he bent down on his knees in front of you, gently using the collected tissue to dab at your puffy face. You couldn’t help the sorrowful laugh that escaped your lips, the scene reminded you of when the two of you were growing up and Carmy would always help clean your face after a good cry.

A tight smile formed on his lips as his eyes met yours, the two of you probably thinking of the same memories. He finished drying your face before returning to the bathroom to throw away the tissues. Carmy helped you up from the bed to pull down his comforter before allowing you to get in.

He watched as you scooted over to make room for him awaiting his entrance, “Uh lemme just tidy up out there.” Both of you knew it was an excuse but neither were brave enough to admit it. 

Carmy quickly left the room heading straight for the small duffle you had brought with you. He was sure the rain had soaked through your bag and wet your belongings. Making his way to the closet where his washer and dryer were located he easily fit your clothes into the wash, not wanting you to be stuck in his clothes for however long you were there.

He found your laptop bag in there as well, quickly removing it from its confines and drying it with a clean kitchen towel. Placing the laptop on his counter he made his way around the kitchenette to clean up the mess your blood made and finish off the dishes you hadn’t been able to wash. All of this was a distraction to the warm body he knew was waiting up for him in bed, he felt the urge to prolong the inevitable but realized he might never get this chance again.

Carmy quickly finished his clean of the front room, it wasn’t up to his usual standards but he could no longer deny himself the thing he wanted most in that moment; to wrap you up in his arms and hope he’d never have to let go.

Making sure all appliances were off and starting the washer, he quickly made his way back into his bedroom, closing the door as quietly as he could. He stood in the middle of the room for a minute, the figure peacefully lying in his bed not something he was used to. Carmy quietly crept over to the empty side of the bed lifting the covers and allowing himself to slide in.

Carmy knew you weren’t asleep and any other time he might’ve felt embarrassed to be so eager to be near you, but something about being in your presence felt right. Carmy made sure to scoot close to you, arm moving to wrap around your midsection and bring you closer to him, the need to feel your body pressed against his barely being satisfied.

His face found its way to the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath, the lavender scent he loved so much dancing across his senses. The sigh you let out into the night was a sign that you both wanted this just as much.

Carmy moved his head up a few inches, lips brushing against the ‘B’ hidden behind your ear. There wasn’t a day he didn’t think about the hidden ink stain or the words you said to him when he first found it.

Pressing one more soft kiss against the inkblot Carmy felt as you relaxed into him. Your warm body in his arms once more provided a feeling of bliss he wasn’t aware he needed.

You both knew the position you were in and the soft caress of Carmy’s lips against your skin, was a direct contradiction of the claims he made earlier. But neither of you would be the voice of reason in these 48 hours you had together.

Whatever happened between the two of you during this time would be welcomed with open arms. You and Carmy were on borrowed time, there would be time for regrets later, but as Carmy held you in his arms he decided that he would try to give you pieces of himself that no one had ever seen; even if it would all end in hours. 

“Sweet dreams Baby.” 

Carmy looked most at peace while sleeping, the stress and exhaustion seemed to have melted off of him as his mind transported him to the land of dreams.

You had been awake for some time now, Carmy’s presence helpful enough to allow you a few peaceful hours of sleep. But the inevitable thoughts of a life lost would always haunt you through the night. So here you were watching the slight rise and fall of Carmy’s chest, his lips parted slightly. He looked adorable like this but you felt a little weird just watching someone sleep. 

Your hand raised gently moving the waves out of Carmy’s face, leaning in slightly to press a delicate kiss on his forehead before quietly making your way out of the bed. It was a little tricky to open the door without waking Carmy but you had managed.

Leaving the hallway that led to Carmy’s room you entered the living room, searching for the duffle you brought with you. Only to find it open on the floor, your toiletry bag the only item that remained in the bottom of the bag. Confusion swept across your face as you tried to figure out where the rest of your belongings were.

Looking around the living area you spotted your laptop resting on the counter, your laptop bag sitting on a towel next to it. You would figure things out later. The first thing you wanted to do right now was to brush your teeth.

You quickly tip-toed back into Carmy’s room and the bathroom quietly shutting the door behind you and beginning your morning routine. Now refreshed you exited the bathroom, a small smile gracing your lips as you took in Carmy’s still-sleeping figure. 

Perusing the fridge and pantry you found a lack of any edible food. The few things available allowed you to whip up some French toast. You were no chef and maybe you should’ve left the cooking to Carmy but you were hoping this could be an olive branch for the two of you. If Carmy didn’t want to be with you romantically, maybe the two of you could work on mending your friendship.

Carmy woke up to an empty bed, his first thoughts that you had escaped in the night, his heart clenching a bit at the thought. He couldn’t be mad he pulled the same stunt on you, turning to lay on his back he stared at his ceiling, mind racing as he thought about the conversation from yesterday. 

Carmy knew he wanted to be happy, and he also knew he wanted that with you. He just didn’t know the first thing about romantic love or how to explicitly make his wants clear to you. It seemed as though he’d never get that chance, you were serious about catching the next flight out. 

Sitting up in bed he looked around, trying to gain his bearings. The sound of his bedroom door opening jolted him from his thoughts. He watched as you walked in with two plates in your hands, the smell of French toast invading his senses. His eyes found yours as you stopped in the doorway a small shy smile sent in his direction.

“I made us breakfast,” Carmy watched you make your way towards him, taking a plate off your hands as you sat on the bed in front of him. “I hope you don’t mind French toast, you uh didn’t have much to work with.” 

Carmy’s eyes subtly lit up at the fact that you were still there, that you hadn’t left. “No, yeah this is great, you uh, used cinnamon and everything.” The shy teasing smile on Carmy’s face caused a small chuckle to bubble out of you.

The two of you ate in silence for the most part, each of you stealing glances at one another while the other wasn’t paying attention. Shy smiles sent each other’s way when one of you would catch the other’s eye. 

You watched as Carmy took the plate from your hands and made his way to the door, you sat there for a moment watching him walk away before getting up and following behind him. You silently took a seat on the stool at the counter watching as Carmy began cleaning the remaining breakfast dishes.

The stretch of his back muscles under the tank top he was wearing was a sight to see. It surprised you a bit how toned Carmy was considering he lived and breathed being a chef, you didn’t expect him to have free time to worry about his physique. 

You waited as Carmy finished sending him a small smile as he finally faced you. He made his way to you, the two of you separated by the counter, his forearms resting on the counter accentuated his toned biceps.

“I actually need to go to the farmer’s market today,” you waited to see if there was anything more he had to say but the silence drew on.

“Oh, I can stay here, I have work to finish.” You gestured your hand to the laptop not far from the two of you, trying not to let your disappointment show.

“Did you maybe wanna join me,” Carmy waited for your response, eyes darting around your face hoping you would say yes.

“Do you…want me to join you?” You could laugh, the two of you sitting here beating around the bush like two teenagers. 

You waited as you took in Carmy’s shy demeanor, the blush rising from his neck, you were tempted to point it out but didn’t want him to close himself off like you were used to. 

“I want you to come with me to the farmers market.” Carmy made sure to look you in the eyes as the words left his mouth, sure that he was red in the face but wanting you to know how much he wanted to spend time with you. 

The two of you stared at each other for a while, the toothy grin on your face mirroring the his smaller one. The small nod of your head was everything Carmy needed to see for his heartbeat to calm down. He watched as you giddily got up from your seat presumably to get ready.

“Oh um did you do something with my clothes?” The smile didn’t seem to be leaving your face anytime soon.

Carmy cleared his throat hand raising to scratch the back of his neck, “Yeah I, uh I washed them, they’re in my closet.” 

You couldn’t deny that those words made your heart pick up speed a bit, the idea of feeling giddy that your clothes were in Carmy’s closet was a bit childish, but you would take what you could get at this point. 

“Oh, okay I’ll just go get ready then.” Your hand gestured to the room behind you.

“Yeah,” Carmy couldn’t help but marvel at the idea of you getting ready in his apartment, it was almost like he could pretend this was his reality.

“Yeah,” you didn’t know why you were acting like a love-struck teenager but Carmy just brought it out of you.

“Okay,” Carmy nodded his head signaling you to take your leave.

“Oka-.”

“Baby just go get fucking ready.” A huff of laughter escaped Carmy at the way you were acting.

Carmy stood by the counter watching as you ran off to prepare yourself for the day. He couldn’t stop the smile from gracing his lips as he listened to your melodic laughter sing through the emptiness of his apartment.

You had split from Carmy a few booths back, the two of you deciding it was for the best. Your constant wandering off to booths that intrigued you put Carmy in a panic when he would look to see you no longer at his side. 

It was your first time in New York and you were just happy to take in this small portion of what the city had to offer. The farmer’s market here was similar to the ones you’d been to back home, though the weather would take some getting used to, not like you needed to. You’d be back in Chicago before you knew it. 

You found a small flea market-type area towards the back of the farmers market. Vendors gathered around selling handmade items and keepsakes. A few minutes into your perusal of the area you found a vendor selling handmade clothing items. A pretty cami dress caught your eye that the vendor exclaimed you just had to have, and who were you to turn down a beautiful dress selling for a decent price in the streets of New York.

With the dress nicely tucked away into a paper bag gently swinging from your arm, you decided it was time to make your way back to the entrance of the farmers market and wait for Carmy. On your journey back you stopped at a vendor selling handmade leather goods, a particular leather wallet drawing your attention.

The familiarity of it caused you to let loose a shuddering breath, the small item reminded you of Mikey’s wallet. Although his was more used, worn in. Standing on this street and looking down at the pristine wallet in front of you was almost like looking at a replica.

You remembered asking him once why he chose to use the ratty old thing and the smart-ass response he had given you. The fact that an inanimate object that had no ties to Mikey was causing this sort of reaction inside you, felt too real, it felt like grief was prepared to sink its claws into you. 

And you couldn’t allow it, because you were in New York finally on somewhat good terms with Carmy. And Mikey would be waiting for your return to Chicago, eager to hear about your time with his little brother. 

“Would you like to buy it, miss?” Your eyes found the vendors, a forced smile tracing your lips.

You slowly shook your head feeling a little bad for turning down goods from a small business, you just didn’t need the wallet, especially not one that would remind you of him every day.

The walk back to the farmers market felt melancholy: the promise to yourself to compartmentalize Mikey and his situation was becoming harder the more time you spent alone. Your search for Carmy became more urgent the longer you couldn’t find him. The racing images of Mikey’s casket swirling with your recent moments spent in Carmy’s presence. 

You didn’t want to burden Carmy with the debilitating thoughts you were having, not wanting to ruin the good thing the two of you had going. Neither of you brought up the elephant in the room and it seemed like neither of you was going to. The both of you content to live in momentary bliss for the time you had together. 

It felt like you were spiraling and all because of some stupid too similar fucking wallet. You finally made your way to the entrance of the market hoping Carmy would know to look for you there.

Carmy gathered the ingredients necessary for the dinner he planned for tonight, luckily for him the restaurant was closed on Sundays so he could spend the day with you. 

He still wasn’t sure that any of this was real. You showing up outside his apartment at two in the morning, holding you as you slept, and now adventuring out to the market he frequented, it all felt like a dream.

There was one last stop Carmy needed to make before he met up with you. He made his way to the old flower vendor who was always the first one here to ensure he set up a show at the entrance. Carmy had his fair share of conversations with the man but had never actually bought any flowers off of him, but today was the day that changed. 

“Carmen is that you?” Carmy raised his head from the flowers he was glancing at, the old man sitting on the stool smiling his way.

“Yes sir. How you doing today Willie?” Carmy wasn’t much into friends or acquaintances since the two of you parted ways all those years ago, but Willie was a special case. Always kind, on Carmy’s first visit to this particular market the older man had explained to him the layout and gave him insider information about what times were best to come to ensure he got the freshest ingredients from each vendor. 

“You thinking about buying something today son?” The older man rose from his seated position plopping the paper he was reading in his place.

Carmy nodded eyes going back to the various flowers to choose from. This wasn’t Carmy, he had never done something like this, not willingly at least. But he knew flowers could symbolize different things, and have different meanings. And if he couldn’t figure out how to be straightforward and speak with you, maybe a hand-picked bouquet could solve that issue. 

“Looking for anything in particular?” He glanced at Willie, a slight frown marring his face, he genuinely had no idea.

Carmy chuckled, hand raising to scratch the nape of his neck, “I’m not sure Willie.” He felt a little embarrassed. How was he to translate his feelings to you through horticulture if he knew nothing about flowers and their meanings.

“Well help me out boy, tell me who they’re for an maybe I can whip something up for you.” It was like perfect timing as Carmy heard your voice trickling into his ears. You were standing on the other side of the entrance phone to your ear as you spoke to somebody, a look of exhaustion on your features.

Carmy’s eyes caught yours as you glanced in his direction, he watched that beautiful smile appear as you quickly ended the call with whoever you were talking to, smile mirroring yours as you two stared at each other across the distance. Your hand raised in a shy wave smile growing wider as Carmy reciprocated the gesture. 

“Now Carmen, why didn’t you tell me these were for your old lady,” Carmy’s head shot around to find Willie smirking at him from his side of the booth. “Is that the young lady in that picture you keep in your wallet?” 

Carmy watched frozen, as Willie moved around his booth, trying his best to figure out when the older man had ever caught a glance at the picture of you two. “Uh, she’s just a friend sir.” 

“Listen, boy, you can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me. And I know you betta not be lying to that pretty girl over there.” The flowers in Willie’s hand were used to point in your direction. 

“I saw the way she looked at you just now son, that girl is in love,” Carmy listened as Willie began constructing the bouquet, ears tuned to what the man was saying. 

“I’ll give it to you straight boy, you’re gonna regret every chance you didn’t take with that young lady. Now I don’t know the situation between you two, but what I do know is that you look at that girl like she invented oxygen, I know because that’s how I looked at my Debbie.” Carmy was raptly intrigued with Willie’s words, watching the sad smile take over his lips as he mentioned his recently deceased wife.

“And from our interactions you don’t seem to me like the type to let rare opportunities pass you by,” the bouquet seemed to be pretty much finished, the older man just putting the final touches. “Now you give that pretty young lady this here bouquet, you make her a nice dinner like I’m sure you planned. And you let her know how much you appreciate her.” 

Carmy nodded his head rapidly trying to take in everything the older man said. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched Willie wave you over to them.

“Excuse me miss? Why don’t you come on over here and join us.” Carmy could feel the panic rising within him.

“N- Willie No don-.”

“Hush up boy and introduce me to your lovely girl.” You stopped next to Carmy eyes widening as you took in the unknown man's words. 

You looked at Carmy as he brought his hand up to swipe across his mouth, a tight-lipped smile lining his lips afterwards.

“Hi sweetie I’m Willie Carmen’s only friend in this city,” you laughed as the man winked at you before holding his hand out listening as you introduced yourself. 

“It’s nice to meet you Willie, you have some beautiful flowers, do you harvest them yourself?” The man in front of you waved off the compliment with a serene smile on his face.

“My wife and I started selling at this market 20 years ago. This is my first year without her.” The smile on your lips faltered as you offered your condolences.

“Now I don’t wanna keep you too long, but this bouquet here is for you to miss.” You looked at Carmy before your eyes found Willie’s again, your cheeks warming at what the man was insinuating. 

“Oh um, thank you so much. How much do I owe you?” Your wallet was out and ready in your hand, Carmy’s hand shooting out to stop you as he thrust money forward. 

“Y’all put that money away now,” Willie shook his head scoffing at the idea of either of you paying.

He held out the bouquet in your direction, the smile lining his face urged you to take it. You couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful bouquet, the colorful assortment helping to ease the foreboding feeling you had earlier. 

“Our friend Carmen here chose each of those flowers,” you looked in Carmy’s direction, the blush on his face so endearing to you. “I went on ahead and tucked a card in there with their meanings. You two make a fine pair, don’t let life get in the way of the love you share, you hear me?”

You nodded avoiding Carmy’s eyes like your life depended on it, easily listening to the wisdom Willie was bestowing upon the two of you. 

“The world is kind but she is also cruel. She will take away the things we love even if we’re not ready to part with them. Love each other loudly and with no regrets, it's always good to see young love prosper.”  The sad look in Willie’s eyes pulled at your heartstrings, you stood there wondering if he had any regrets. 

The clearing of Carmy’s throat finally drew your attention from the wise older man in front of you. “Thank you Willie really, but we should be heading home.” 

Willie nodded a pleasant smile on his lips, “Damn right! The two of you holdin up my business.” The older man shooed the two of you off a chuckle followed his gesture. 

“It was nice meeting you Willie, thank you again for the beautiful bouquet.” You sent him one last wave before you and Carmy moved away from the booth.

“It’s a gorgeous bouquet Carmy,” you glanced over the flowers before your eyes locked with Carmy’s, a loving smile splitting your face. 

Carmy smiled, unconsciously reaching out to move a stray piece of hair from your eyes, hurriedly dropping his hand and clearing his throat. “Let’s get them home and into some water yeah?” Carmy’s eyes darted around doing his best not to stare at you for too long.

You looked down trying to hide your smile, the word ‘home’ filled you with warmth. Your hand reached out to intertwine his with your own, avoiding Carmy’s eyes as they finally focused on you, “Lead the way.”

The gentle squeeze of your hand in Carmy’s made you smile, the two of you making your way back to his apartment. Neither of you mentioned holding hands as you journeyed home, just like neither of you said anything as you melted into his safe embrace on the subway ride.

The two of you entered the small apartment, your laughs filtering through the hallway and into the entranceway. A run-in with Carmy’s neighbor across the hall was responsible for the now-dying laughter between the two of you.

“Is she always like that?” You stopped allowing Carmy to help you out of your jacket before he hung it up. You turned to him, taking the bags out of his hand as you made your way to the kitchen. Setting them on the counter before searching for something to hold your flowers. 

Carmy followed behind you after removing his own coat, hands falling to your waist as he moved around you to unload the few groceries he had gotten for tonight. “She uh, airdropped me a nude once, so right now was pretty tame I guess.” 

Your headshot to Carmy’s everything in you holding back the laugh that was desperately trying to escape. “Poor girl. Did you send one back?” You nudged your elbow into his watching as the blush on his cheeks deepened.

He maneuvered around you trying to ignore your teasing, “God no, we uh went out for drinks once, it was cool.” 

The crumbs he was giving you surprised you, “And nothing like came out of that?”

“I dunno was something supposed to?” Carmy made sure not to give you direct attention, mortified that he was even having this conversation with you in his kitchen.

“Well did you want it to?” You didn’t know why you had latched onto this topic of conversation so hard, it reminded you of the times Carmy would ramble to you about Claire. And if you were just spending the weekend with a friend wasn’t this the type of conversation you should be engaging in? 

Carmy turned to you as you finally found a glass big enough to support the bouquet, he watched as you filled the glass with water before trimming the stems. “Not with her, no.”

You looked up to see Carmy finally looking at you with a serious expression painting his flushed face. You couldn’t help it as your eyes dropped to his lips, clocking the subtle peak of his tongue poking out as he wet his lips. 

Carmy made his way towards you, Willie's words from earlier bouncing around in his head. He pulled the flower from your hand and placed it in the large glass he wasn’t even aware he had. He cleared his throat hoping he had enough confidence to get these words out.

“I’m gonna start on dinner, and you’re gonna go get ready,” his hand came up to hold the left side of your jaw, finger finding the spot behind your ear he always took special care to remember. “I want you to put on that pretty little dress you were gushing about on the way home.” Carmy stopped watching as you nodded your head showing that you were paying attention.

“Can you do that for me?” His eyes traced your face looking for any signs that you were uncomfortable.

Your lidded eyes lazily blinked up at him a quiet ‘yes’ escaped through your parted lips. A small smile rested on Carmy’s lips as he leaned in to plant a delicate kiss on your forehead, lips lingering for a moment too long.

He reluctantly removed himself from you waiting for you to scurry off. Surprised when you took a step closer to him and leaned in, a gentle press of your lips connecting to the corner of his. Carmy watched as you pulled away and smiled at him before taking your leave.

Carmy stood in his kitchen for a minute, heart racing as he realized what he had just done. The only place Carmy had ever been in control was in the kitchen, so maybe that’s why it was so easy for him to take control in that moment, well that and Willie’s lecture.

He was sure it would never happen again as he began preparing the ingredients for the lasagna he planned to make for the two of you. 

You and Carmy had switched places a few minutes ago after he walked in on you wrapped in a towel and profusely apologized  for almost a whole minute. You easily slipped into your dress while Carmy was in the shower. 

As you walked into the living room you could smell the delicious aroma of the cuisine Carmy prepared for the two of you. You were glad to be out of Carmy’s presence for the time being, your brain doing its best to process the moment the two of you had shared in the kitchen. 

The cold shower you took did nothing to calm down the feelings swirling around inside you. You had never seen Carmy so in control of anything in his life, the demanding tone he used with you earlier almost had you making a fool of yourself right there in his kitchen. 

A constant beep coming from the oven drew your attention, you quickly made your way to the kitchen grabbing a towel to remove the hot dish from its place resting in the oven. You couldn’t help but marvel at the pretty lasagna in your hands. It was a bit weird to describe food as pretty, but the presentation was generally pleasing to the eyes.

You walked to the countertop to set the dish down, turning to search through the kitchen for plates and utensils. Having a slightly hard time as you had no idea where anything was located at.

“Baby?” The sound of Carmy’s voice startled you, not having heard him make his approach. 

You turned in his direction, a light laugh leaving your lips. It was a bit comical, the two of you dressed nicely, feet bare in his New York apartment. You took in his appearance biting your lip as you spotted his chain that encouraged you to do sinful things. He was dressed in probably the only slacks he owned, the ankles cuffed since he wasn’t wearing shoes. The deep green crew neck hugging his body was similar in color to the dress you were wearing, the unexpected matching caused another laugh to leave your lips. 

The box in his hand finally caught your attention, it appeared to be a present of some sort. You pointed at it with the random spoon you had picked up while searching for cutlery. 

“What’s that?” You furrowed your brows as you watched Carmy revert to his usual shy self. 

He held the gift out to you, “Go ahead, open it.” Your hand brushed his as you took the box from his hold feeling a bit giddy at the unsolicited gift.

Carmy held his breath as he watched you open a five-year-old gift in his kitchen. You looked beautiful and he wanted to tell you but couldn’t seem to force the words out too enthralled with the intimate atmosphere that had been surrounding the two of you since earlier in the kitchen. 

Carmy was a fool for leaving you the morning after Christmas and knowing that he let Mikey down when it came to you haunted him. He was glad to have these days with you, it wasn’t healthy but the two of you were providing a distraction for each other. 

“Carmy oh my goodness,” the gasp of your breath brought Carmy back to reality. His cheeks warmed at seeing you so happy. “How much did this even cost you, these things are like relics.” Your eyes flashed to the smile on your face seeming to brighten up the kitchen.

“It doesn’t matter, I bought this for Christmas and just…I never sent it.” He was prepared for you to scold him for his stupidity, tell him you didn’t care for the gift, and that you couldn’t play pretend with him anymore. 

The press of your warm body against his surprised him, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist. Holding onto you so tightly scared that if he let you go then you would disappear and he’d realize this weekend was just a dream.

“I love it Carmy really, thank you.” Your arms were still wrapped around his neck as the two of you gazed into each other's eyes. 

“Can I,” Carmy paused a laugh escaping his lips at the similarities between this moment and a past one you shared. “Can I kiss you?” 

You wasted no time before you leaned forward pressing a sweet kiss into his lips lingering for a moment to translate the love you felt for him. Carmy’s hand moved up to your jaw, keeping you locked in place against him, his tongue slipping out to caress your bottom lip.

You slowly opened your mouth allowing him in, the softness of his tongue exploring the warmth of your mouth. The kiss was slow, sensual, all the pent-up emotions being shared between the two of you. 

The rhythm Carmy set was easy for you to follow along with, you took the chance to suck on his tongue a bit, losing yourself in the feelings this one kiss was bringing forth.

You parted from Carmy reluctantly, a small smile raised to your lips as you watched him chase you for more. A soft moan escaped you as he began decorating kisses down your jaw and to your neck, tilting your head back to allow him better access, surprise painting your features as he raised you to sit on his counter. 

Carmy continued to study you with his lips, tracing down your pulse point and across your collarbone. It would never be enough for him, he would never be able to satisfy his hunger for you no matter how much of your skin his lips could paint. 

The soft whimpers snatched from your lips going straight to his groin, his hips unconsciously canting against your leg that was in perfect alignment. 

“Touch me Carmy…please,” Carmy swore he could cum from the sound of your begging alone.

But he stopped his ministrations, the realization that he had no idea what he was doing hitting him like a ton of bricks. 

You watched as Carmy pulled away from you chest rapidly puffing up and down as the confusion swept across your face. “Carmy?” Your voice trailed off you couldn’t help the hurt you were feeling, here you were sitting atop Carmy’s kitchen counter dress hiked up to your waist the lacy underwear you had chosen to wear in full view, the straps of your dress pulled down precariously low that the top of your areolas was peeking out. 

You quickly adjusted the top of your dress before hopping off the counter and pulling down the hem. Eyes filling with tears as you were brought back to prom night, memories re-playing all the hurt that came after it. 

Carmy’s head shot up from its place in his hands the tears in your waterline and the way you had shrunken into yourself making him feel like a complete fucking asshole.

“Shit no Baby…I-Fuck!” Carmy watched as you jolted a little at the shout of his voice, he was fucking this up more than it already was.

“Hey, hey,” he closed the distance between the two of you, raising his hands to your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Baby, I-I’m sorry it's just…I don’t,” Carmy took a deep breath trying to gain his bearings. “I’ve never done this stuff before.” 

Carmy’s eyes followed the emotions crossing your face, a frown painting your face before your eyes widened and your lips parted in the shape of an ‘o’. 

“Carmy…have you never been intimate with anyone before?” Carmy knew your question wasn’t teasing or malicious but he couldn’t help feeling embarrassed at having to admit this to you. 

“I uh, you were my first kiss…and my second kiss just now,” Carmy hung his head in shame, blush rising from his neck to stain his cheeks. 

“Oh my goodness I’m such an asshole,” Carmy looked up at you a chuckle escaping him at your declaration. Your hand reached out to rest against his cheek thumb caressing back and forth. “Carmy I thought you were rejecting me.” Now it was your turn to feel shameful, your first thoughts being selfish ones as opposed to waiting to hear Carmy’s explanation. 

Carmy’s hand came up to grip yours on his cheek, head turning to place a soft kiss on your pulse point. “Let’s sit and eat, yeah?” Carmy waited for your response, smiling at you as you nodded. “I wanna spend as much time together as we can.” 

You pulled him into a sweet kiss, his hands squeezing your waist at the feeling of being able to freely kiss you “I’d like that.” You pulled away the two of you sharing bright smiles as you moved to have the dinner Carmy had so lovingly planned out.

Neither of you pointed out the fact that things would be coming to an end for you two tomorrow, but you’d bask in this loving atmosphere for all the remaining time you two had together. 

You could feel soft lips pressing into the space behind your left ear, your first instinct was worry. Confused by the warm body pressed into you from behind strong arms gripping your waist as though you would disappear at a moment's notice. The memories of the last day with Carmy led you to relax.

A quiet sniffle finally woke you up enough, your eyes opening to the dimly lit room. A familiar head of hair tucked snuggly into your neck, and slight huffs of breaths could be heard.

“Carmy?” The raspiness of your morning voice echoed around the room, you could hear the breathing quiet down a bit, concern spiking in you. 

You began turning wanting to comfort the man you had been in love with for most of your life, it was a struggle as the arms around you tightened but you finally turned to your side Carmy burying his face in your t-shirt-clad chest.

“Carmy, honey,” the lack of response was beginning to worry you, you had shared your fair share of cries with Carmy throughout your friendship but considering the circumstances that brought you together this time around, you couldn’t help but freak out a bit. “Hey, hey look at me yeah?”

“I-I just need a minute please.” The crack of Carmy’s voice went straight to your heart. He maneuvered so the top of his body was laying on your chest and stomach, his lower body settling gently between your legs. 

You leaned forward pressing a lingering kiss to his head before lying back down and slowly stroking your fingers through his hair, wanting to make him as comfortable in this moment as you could. You were content to hold him all day if that’s what he needed.

The two of you laid like that for a while, Carmy’s breathing and sniffling calming down after a few minutes. You watched as Carmy propped himself up on his elbows, pressing a small kiss into the fabric of your shirt over your stomach, a small smile rising to your lips as you watched him.

“Talk to me, Carm?” You watched as he looked up to you, pretty blue eyes swollen from the tears he’d been shedding. 

Carmy moved up a little resting his cheek against your sternum arms wrapped tightly around you, “Uhh, Sug called, said Mikey left something for me.” 

It was quiet as you let his words sink in, a shuddering sigh leaving you as your hands unconsciously began running back through Carmy’s hair. 

You felt Carmy’s hand slip under the shirt of his you were borrowing, fingers gliding across the skin of your stomach lazily tracing circles. The small gesture helped to relax you a bit.

“Did she say anything else?” Your fingernails softly scratched into Carmy’s scalp, the two of you trying to touch each other as much as you possibly could.

Carmy’s chuckle drew your attention, “She uh, asked me to come home.”

Your nails stopped for a minute before you started up again, heart jumping a little in your chest at the idea of Carmy coming back to Chicago, “Are you…going to go home?” The hope in your voice borders on desperation.

Carmy was silent for a moment, hands moving to lift your shirt just underneath your breast before he placed his warm cheek back in its previous position. The news skin-on-skin contact sends chills through both of you. 

“Everything with Mikey kinda made me think about us.” Carmy’s thumb came up, to caress against your rib, dangerously close to your breast. “It just kind of puts into perspective that the people you care about can be here one day…and gone the next.”

The avoidance of your original question was not lost on you, but Carmy opening up may have been better than whatever argument the initial qualm might impose. 

“Baby I-,” you looked at Carmy as he adjusted his position one hand resting against your sternum, his chin plopping onto it. “I um.” He stopped, you followed his movements watching as his eyes closed and he took a deep breath.

“For a while, I’ve known that I feel something for you, but I-I don’t think I can give you what you want.” Your hand slipped from his hair to cup his cheek, hanging on to every word leaving his lips.

Carmy leaned into the palm of your hand, letting himself melt into your touch, cherishing the few moments he had left with you. “And I can’t promise any commitment after today.” The rapid beating of Carmy’s chest could be felt on your stomach, the crack in his voice raising a small smile to your lips. 

You sat up in bed. Carmy looked up at you as you held his chin in your hand, thumb softly tracing his lips as you committed his features to memory. The tiny scars marring his face, the few beauty marks dotted around, connecting them would create a new constellation you swore you’d remember forever. 

Carmy was honest with you, and that’s all you asked of him. Neither of you could promise each other a happy ending after you parted ways and while that hurt, it didn’t make sense to ruin the remaining time the two of you had left dwelling on the future.

“Carmen,” you waited for him to lock eyes with you, a sad smile spread across your features, tears you could no longer hold back coming forth. “I know.” 

Carmy’s lips pressed into your thumb before he gently cupped your neck and reached up so your lips connected. This was only the third kiss the two of you shared, but the intangible love and intimacy that could be felt through the single press of your lips would never dwindle, not for as long as the two of you surrounded yourself with each other.

He raised to his knees both hands entrapping your face, all his passion being poured into this one kiss. Carmy was slightly above you now, the angle forcing you to raise your head to stay connected. His thumb began unconsciously caressing the ‘B’ behind your left ear, a small part of you that had stuck with him ever since he discovered it five years ago.

The kiss intensified as you slipped your tongue between his lips, hands gripping onto his hips as he towered above you in this position. Your tongue moved languidly inside his mouth, small noises escaping the both of you.

Carmy pulled the hair at the nape of your neck, the motion removing your lips from his. “Did you mean what you said?” His breath left him in a huff.

“What?” You were slightly out of breath yourself, confused at what the hell Carmy was on about. 

“What you said about this,” his thumb swiped back and forth against the ‘B’ inked into your skin. “Would you take my last name?” 

You bit your lip, eyes lidded as you searched Carmy’s face, hand moving to grip his soft chin between your forefinger and thumb raising onto your knees so the two of you were eye level.

“Would you like that Carmen? If I let you give me your last name?” A patronizing smile graced your lips, the air between you charged. 

Carmy surged forward hungry for a taste of you, his hands gripped your hair to tug on it a strangled gasp leaving you. The strength with which Carmy took your lips into his forcing your back into the mattress beneath you two, his body hovering over yours. 

Your hand left its place on his chin sliding down to his shoulders caressing the little skin his tank top allowed you to feel. Hands traveling across his chest, the feeling of his toned body under your palms making you needy. You finally made it to the hem of his shirt tugging it up to give you access to the warm skin of his torso.

Carmy parted from you, snatching the shirt over his head before diving back in. Lips leading him to his favorite feature of yours. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders pulling him flush against you, Carmy’s lips ravished your neck as he nipped from your jawline down to your pulse point, teeth sinking in a bit harder.

“Fuck Carmy.” The delicious feeling of Carmen's body against yours, his lips exploring you, hands gripping the skin of your revealed waist. All of it led to the thrust of your hips up into his, it was selfish but you needed him, not that you would force him but whatever he would give you would have to be enough.

Carmy’s sharp intake of breath drew your attention as his hips relentlessly ground into you, hand wandering up your shirt to cup your breast thumb accidentally tracing your nipple. 

Your loud gasp alarmed him. He quickly parted from you saliva connected your lips together as you both took in each other’s disheveled appearances.

“Did I-did I do something wrong?” Sweet Carmy worried that he had ruined the moment. 

You sat up rapidly shaking your head as you stared into his eyes, the both of you breathing heavily, “No, no it was great I promise.”

Carmy nodded gently tracing your jawline as he looked at you, “Baby…I want this moment with you.” The mumble made your heart race, this was a big deal it would change whatever this relationship between the two of you was. 

“Carmy…we don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for.” You searched his eyes hoping he didn’t feel pressured by the noises you were making.

“Have you…done this before?” Carmy forced himself to keep looking at you regardless of the blush he could feel painting his cheeks.

The small nod you gave relieved him a bit, “Does that bother you?” You didn’t think Camry would mind but you knew the male species could be unpredictable. 

“God no, I just don’t wanna disappoint you.” He finally looked away from you embarrassed to have admitted something so personal. 

“You won’t.” You sent him a small smile before guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt helping him to pull it over your head. Watching his beautiful face take in everything you had to offer him. 

His throat bobbed as he took in a large gulp, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, proving you’d have to take the reins on this one, not that you minded. The thought of telling Carmy how to pleasure you warmed you up even more. 

Your finger reached out to lift Carmy’s chin, directing his eyes to yours, “What do you want to do to me, Carmen?” 

You watched as he blinked eyes tracing your figure, “I just wanna appreciate you, Baby.” The words left his lips in a whisper.

You were taken aback never having heard that before while being intimate. His hands slowly settled on your waist, the safest option “How should I…do that.”

You smiled moving one of his hands to cup your breast, shuddering at the skin-to-skin contact, “We can start with kissing, then I want you to do whatever feels right okay?”

Carmy nodded, giving your breast a slight squeeze a whimper drawing out of you, taking account of your reaction he gently began rubbing his thumb across your pebbled nipple watching your body writhe at the small action. 

He leaned forward pressing a gentle kiss into your forehead, lips moving to your left cheek then your right. A small kiss pressed into each of your closed eyelids and the tip of your nose. Each corner of your lips got its turn before his lips found the space between your nose and upper lip. One more kiss pressed into your chin before finally ending with a sweet kiss to your lips, cherishing every inch of your face he had kissed.

Carmy made his way to your jawline, starting at the right side and tracing to your left, nipping every so often as he continued his journey. Lips slowly tracing from your jawline to your neck, he wasn’t sure what it was but seeing your neck on display for him made him feral, his hips grinding into your as he decorated your neck in love bites. 

“Lay down f’me.” You eagerly listened watching as Carmy planted another soft kiss into your lips before following the map of your collarbones. Lips pressing into your upper chest as both hands came up to softly knead your breast. 

You could feel Carmy’s hard-on pressing against you, as much as you were enjoying this, all you wanted in the world was to finally please Carmy. You slipped your hand between your bodies sliding into the waistband of his boxers, hand gripping him as a strangled moan parted his lips. The soft caress of your hand against him caused his head to spin, this felt different from the times he would stroke himself thinking about you.

“Does this feel good, Carmy?” Your voice was a little deeper, more sensual as you questioned him. “Do you wish it was me making you cum on those lonely nights, hmm?

“Fuck…yes.” The whine of his voice went straight to your core, spurring you on more. 

Your strokes became a little firmer, applying more pressure to provide him more pleasure. His length twitched against your palm the more you rubbed. Carmy had lost all sense of his own ministrations grinding into your hand while still on top of you, he could feel himself close to ecstasy the feel of your warm body underneath him making him lose all control.

“Ba-Baby stop.” You froze immediately forcing your hormones under wrap, Carmy’s comfortability your priority. 

“Are you okay Carm?” The worry in your voice was obvious as you removed your hand from its grip on him. 

“Ye-yeah, I just want to please you right now.” Carmy’s hand moved to grip your rib cage thumb running back and forth against your under boob, “Can I continue showing my appreciation.” The slight desperation in his voice caused you to rapidly nod your head. 

Carmy gave you a small shy smile, moving to kiss the spot he had been tracing during this time. His lips painted across your whole torso, paying extra attention to your stomach, ideas he wasn’t ready to give merit to racing through his mind as he did so.

Finally, he paused at your hips, the solid cotton panties you wore obscured his path, nose caressing the front of your panties as he took in a deep breath allowing your aroma to invade his senses. “Are you going to take off my panties, Carmy?” The condescending tone in your voice went straight to his throbbing cock.

He nodded, wasting no time in peeling the fabric from its home around your hips, ready to replace it with his bare hands. Carmy raised to his haunches, unconsciously licking his lips at the sight of your naked body sprawled so prettily across his bed. All of you on show just for him.

Carmy returned to his previous task lips pressing wet delicate kisses into each of your hips bones, a lingering one placed at the base of your pelvis before turning his attention to your thighs. Lips trailing down your leg special attention paid to the crook of your knees and ankles. 

Carmy’s eyes found yours as he placed the last kiss on your right ankle, both of your pupils blown from the sequence of events that had just taken place. 

You beckoned Carmy forward urging him to find you once again. As he drew closer you grabbed one of his hands placing it on your right breast before moving it down so it caressed the rest of your torso, and down your pelvis finally stopping before the place you needed his touch most.

This was your way of giving him an out, the two of you could stop right here if he wanted to, the slight nod of his head told you otherwise. 

Your grip on his hand changed as you grabbed his forefinger and middle finger, your free hand parting your lower lips as you traced his fingers through your slick, a filthy moan escaping into the bedroom as Carmy’s calloused fingers finally stroked you.

“Do you feel that Carmy?” He nodded his head, eyes not leaving yours for a minute. “It's all for you, you made me feel this good.” 

You moved his fingers lower watching his face as you glided his two fingers into you, biting your lower lip at the hunger in you that was finally being tended to.

Carmy’s mouth fell open as he watched the ecstasy wash over your face, lost in the feeling of touching you in the most intimate way he had ever touched anyone before. His head dropped, eyes watching as you slowly swallowed his fingers, in and out the movement making him achingly hard. 

Carmy’s lips dropped to your ear a shy whisper caressing your ear, “I want to be inside you.” The vulnerability in Carmy’s voice caused you to bite your lip, satisfied that he was finally speaking up about what he wanted. 

“You are.” You teased him, clenching around his digits as his eyes drank you in.

You let out a whine as he removed his fingers from your grip, hand pressing your hip into the bed as he stared you down. “Please…I want this…with you.” The words unsaid weighing heavily between you two.  

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” You watched as he slipped out of his boxers, stroking himself as you watched and waited for your instructions. You motioned for him to lay atop you more noses brushing as he got into position, “I’ll guide you, but I need you to go slow okay, it’ll be a tight fit.” 

Carmy nodded his head, neither of you daring to ask about any contraception too lost in the thoughts of finally connecting in ways the two of you had only dreamed of.

You would come to regret the consequences of this decision later.

A smile split your lips before you surged up to capture Carmy’s lips, needing to distract yourself.

You guided him to your entrance only allowing the tip to go in to not overwhelm Carmy. Your mouth fell open in the shape of an ‘o’ as Carmy eagerly thrust into you, your hand raised to his shoulder to stop his movements.

“Carm, slowly, please.” His eyes met yours taking in the slight pain that his intrusion had caused, he nodded hand raising to cup your cheek.

“You look so beautiful like this.” A tender moment was shared between the two of you as you urged Carmy to continue his journey, shuddered moans escaping the both of you as he reached the hilt.

The feeling of finally being full with Carmy made you emotional, both of you just taking a moment to gaze at each other. Appreciating the finality of this all, Carmy leaned down to kiss a tear running down your cheek that escaped, his own eyes welling up, neither of you could find the right words to cement how much this moment meant to the two of you.

Carmy pulsed inside you the movement caused you to clench around him, “You did so good for me Carmy.” The praise went straight to his cock, eyes rolling back at how good a few words made him feel. 

“Can you move for me, Carm, it’ll make us both feel good.” The soft thrust of his hips was enough for you. 

He continued the slow motion of his hips, eyes connected with yours as the ghost of those three words he struggled to say filtered between the two of you. Your hand raised to wipe the single tear sliding down his cheek.

Nothing in the world could take this moment from the two of you. If Aphrodite could tell the story of your love she would describe it as a tangible heartbreaking thing always growing, and most times fleeting. Something both you and Carmy could touch, feel, and breathe. The love filtering between the two of you was clear as day to anyone who had a heart. 

The warm muscular hand pressed into the flesh of your hip bone driving you crazy. The fingers pressed into you harder and harder with each accompanying thrust. One hand pressed into the pillow by your head keeping the body atop of you from crushing you under its weight. You appreciated the cautionary position, but you had longed for this connection for what felt like ages and you would gladly welcome the weight of the perspiring chest burying you further into the mattress.

A golden gleam caught your eye taking you away from how the tattooed knuckles flexed against your hip every few seconds. You looked to see his golden chain dangling back and forth above your face, taunting you. The sway of the metal matched the rocking motion of his hips, the synchronicity of the two things driving you absolutely wild. Eyes concentrated on the gold chain it was almost like a switch was flipped in you and the catalyst was that fucking gold chain.

Your eyes moved to his face, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at you. You parted your lips his intense gaze causing you to clench down on him unconsciously, his eyes rolling back as his hand left its spot on your hip traveling up your torso thumb softly brushing over your nipple as it found its destination cupping your cheek with such intensity you were sure the shape of his thumb would be imprinted onto your jaw.

His eyes found yours once more, his thumb moving a few inches to softly caress your bottom lip. Your mouth opened on instinct to leisurely suck on his digit a hoarse ‘Fuck’ leaving the warm body that was making you feel so good. You released his thumb, feeling it tug at your bottom lip as his hand found its way back to your cheek.

You watched him above you, the ecstasy in his eyes warming your skin, you’d do anything to be able to please him if he always looked at you in that way. The flash of gold from his chain caught your attention again, the angle of his thrust causing you to gasp, a softly whispered moan of “Carmy,” leaving your lips. Carmy’s chain hovered above your open mouth begging to be taken between your teeth, you appeased your desires, your tongue latching onto the chain as you brought it to settle between your teeth. Carmy’s hips fucking into you at a slightly faster pace, your leg wrapping around his waist the heel of your foot pressing into his back to bring the two of you impossibly closer. 

“Fuck-Baby, shit!” Watching Carmy struggle for words had never been as sexy as it was at that moment. Knowing that you were the cause of his incoherent muttering. 

“Please, Carmy,” another gasp ripped through you, your teeth losing hold of Carmy’s signature gold chain. “Mmm yes, Carmen. Just like that.” You settled for whispering in his ear, the new position you had chosen had his head resting against your collarbone, his ear directly next to your mouth. You could feel Carmy’s hand moving from your cheek to clench your jaw between his thumb and remaining fingers. His hand moved your head to reveal your neck the feeling of soft wet kisses making a path to your ear, Carmy’s thrust slowing slightly.

You could feel his breath against your cheek, the soft whine he let out as your cunt clenched around him. His lips pressed against the shell of your ear, “Say that again.” His rough voice traveled through you, the thumping of your clit beating faster and faster.

“Just like that.” You moaned wanting to please him as much as he wanted to please you. 

His fingers dug into your chin, the roughness of his touch causing a high-pitched moan to leave your lips. “Sa-say my name?” The request made your head spin.

“Carm-,” Carmy’s hand returned to its earlier position holding himself above you causing your leg to drop back to the bed.

“N-no,” the strain in his voice was evident as he tilted your head down to stare directly into your eyes. “M-my name sa-say it. Please.” 

You bit your lip his whiny plea going straight to your clit. Your hand reachesdup to match his fingers gripping his chin firmly. Your blown pupils searching his wide doe eyes. It was hard to distinguish where the blue began and the black ended. Your faces were inches apart, you could tell from his breathing that your grip on his chin stirred something inside him. The soft rocking of his hips into yours caused your bottom lips to caress each other in the rhythm he had set.

“Carmen.” The syllables of his name left your mouth in a wanton moan, there was a moment where the thrusting of Carmy’s hips came to a slow stop before he surged forward and messily captured your lips in a kiss full of tongues and moans. Carmy’s hips began rutting into yours, the speed and intensity sending you both into a spiral. Your hand lost its grip on his chin to slither between your bodies matching Carmy’s pace and applying it to your clit. 

The grip on your chin was gone as Carmy’s hand followed the path yours had previously taken sending a soft squeeze to your breast. “Te-teach me how.” God you could’ve cum from that sentence alone. You began rapidly nodding your head before placing your hand atop his own guiding his index and middle finger into generously massaging your clit. 

“Car-Carmen, don’t stop please don’t stop.” Your voice leaves you in a sharp cry.

“Yeah? Is this good?” Your unabashed moan did more to answer Carmy’s question than any words could.

“Carmeee, I’m gonna come, please.” The banging of the headboard against the wall an indication of just how fast Carmy was thrusting into you.

“Whe-where should I-,” You could hear the slight panic in Carmy’s voice, assuming he was on the cusps of an orgasm as well.

“In me Carmy jus- all of it.” His fingers pressed into your clit going at a pace your brain couldn’t keep up with.

The speed of Carmy’s breathing increased. His head finding its way back into the crook of your neck, lips scattering kisses across your neck, “I’ll give it to you all. M’ gonna give you everything.” The sound of Carmen’s voice so quiet you weren’t sure if he had intended anyone else’s ears to hear it.

Whatever Carmen’s intentions his words were the last thing you needed to hear before bliss took over your senses. Your orgasm washed over you in waves, the intensity causing loud moans to escape your lips, clenching Carmy’s cock so hard you were sure it must’ve been painful. 

Riding the high of your orgasm, Carmen’s deep drawn-out groan vibrated into your neck as you felt him give two final rapid thrusts before the dam he had been holding back finally burst inside you. You felt his thrust slow down as he began peppering kisses across your face, “Thank you, thank you.” His voice trailed off into a whisper before his full body weight settled into you.

Now that the bed was no longer threatening to put a hole through his wall, the only sound filling the bedroom was the panting breaths you and Carmy were letting out.

Carmy looked up at you, the wetness on his cheeks matching yours. His forehead leaned against yours the vulnerability the two of you had for each other on full show. Breaths of love were shared between you as your lips gently touched. You knew the words you wanted to say at this moment, felt them so deep in your soul that your tears wouldn’t cease their downpour.

But you also knew how flighty the beautiful man in front of you was, it hurt but you would once again have to swallow your love for this man to ensure he remained in your life.

You laughed as Carmy hovered atop of you the Polaroid he gifted you in his hands the device raised to his eye. Your arm was thrown over your face the fact that the two of you were in this position at all still mind blowing . Carmy nudged your arm, he had been snapping photos of you for a while now, both of you ignoring the fact that he should have been getting ready for work instead of laying with your naked body barely covered under him. 

“Show me that smile, pretty girl,” you slowly moved your arm, the smile splitting your face hard to control. “You seem to like my chain so much, I want to remember what you look like in it.” Carmy could be devilish when he wanted to, the way he would sometimes gain confidence and say what was on his mind, throwing you for a loop.

Your eyes left the camera in his hand as you stared at his face, so enchanted with who Carmy was as a person. Only being jolted out of your trance as the Polaroid fluttered out of the camera and landed on the center of your chest. 

Carmy moved the camera smiling down at you before picking up the photo and examining it, the corner of his lips ticking up in a half smile. He placed the picture on the other pillow where all the other Polaroids were sprawled out. You watched as he set the camera down next to your head cupping your jaw before leaning down and pressing a firm kiss into your forehead a mumbled ‘Perfect’ escaped his lips. 

“Will you take a picture with me Carmy,” your words came out shyly hoping he would agree. You felt his nose nuzzle into your neck planting a small kiss on your tattoo before moving to lay next to you in the bed. 

You reached over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek before grabbing the camera from its spot by your head. You raised it watching as the soft smile graced Carmy’s face, your eyes not wanting to leave the perfect view of his side profile that you had fallen in love with, finger accidentally slipping, the sound of the camera shutter filled the space between you too.

Carmy pulled the photo out waiting for it to develop as he looked in your direction. A wide grin took over his face just by looking at you, your hand began lowering the camera before his hand shot out and raised your hand, and the camera back up quickly pressing your finger into the button to capture this moment in time. 

You let him grab the camera from your hands before he placed it on the nightstand, once again holding your face in place as the two of you shared your softest kiss yet. 

— — — —

You watched as Carmy maneuvered around his room slipping into a clean pair of chef whites, he was late and you could tell he was panicking on the inside but didn’t want to worry you. The two of you had wasted away in the shower washing each other's bodies and holding each other under the hot spray of water. Neither of you wanted to leave the confines of the shower, knowing your time together was finally expiring.

You sat on the bed with your legs pulled up to your chest, chin resting atop them, a fresh pair of panties, and his deep green crew neck from last night your only form of clothing. The tension between the two of you had been broken the moment Carmy realized just how behind schedule he was, shoving reality down your throat as the game of pretending the two of you had been playing was finally snuffed out.

Carmy’s eyes landed on you in his rush clocking the glaze of your eyes, head not rationalizing why you might be upset at the moment. Finally gathering all his necessities he rushed over to you kneeling in front of you pressing one last kiss onto your forehead.

“I’ll be home soon, yeah.” You closed your eyes, the words breaking your heart into pieces.

“Yeah, be safe okay?” Carmy smiled, capturing your lips in his for the last time tonight hand cupping the back of your head to hold you in place.

The two of you separated small side smiles mirroring each other, both of you knew that Carmy would return home to an empty apartment tonight, but neither of you would voice that truth. 

You followed him to the front door needing to see him off before your return to Chicago. He opened the door lingering between the door and the hallway hand gripping yours before pressing a soft kiss into the pulse point at your wrist.

You shared small smiles as Carmy made his way to leave, sending you one last wave before he disappeared down the hallway.

Your closed the door, forehead pressing into it as you stood there trying to gain your bearings, doing your best to control your tears as you knew this moment was inevitable.

A soft “I love you, Carmen.” Breathed into the empty apartment soft enough for it to feel like a ghost had whispered those words and not you.

But not quiet enough that the man who returned on the other side of the door missed the declaration. 

Heart thudding in his chest. His hand ready to turn the keys in the doorknob dropped to his side. His feet shuffled backward as he took one last glance at the door before reverting to his journey to work.

He could go one day without his signature chain that he had so lovingly placed around your delicate neck.

a/n: idk what to say really…enjoy : ) [actually no this is my first smut so please let’s learn from carmy’s mistakes and don’t come for me 😉] i’m like the only person on the planet who thinks i’m funny that’s how laughable it is 😭

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[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer

Chapter 1 - Phantom Tokyo

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.

Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”

Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.

His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…

And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond? 

Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…

He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself. 

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face. 

Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing. 

He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?

Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.

“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement. 

All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it. 

Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”

The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”

It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him. 

Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being. 

“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question. 

“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow. 

“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”

“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood? 

“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”

The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”

“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”

“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”

Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain. 

“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya. 

“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”

Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least  20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess. 

“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.

“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.

Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”

“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions. 

He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that. 

“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”

The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”

“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”

Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair. 

Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud. 

‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper. 

Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory. 

All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”

The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”

“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”

“And when it does run out?”

“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.” 

“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”

The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”

“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.

“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”

It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”

“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…

“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively. 

Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery. 

“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”

A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time. 

But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory. 

He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully. 

The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”

The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice. 

“How do I get out of here?” 

The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.  

“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”

“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation. 

The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

“And how do I do that?” 

It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”

The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”

The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice. 

The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.” 

Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm. 

The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm. 

Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura. 

“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish. 

Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.

“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”

The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes. 

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

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[crueisummer]

𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

series summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

chapter summary: You and Charles stay up talking about your dreams, fears, insecurities, and things that haunt your mind when you're alone.

chapter warnings: vvv emotional, feminism (oh no! jk), derogatory remarks, swearing, mental health, mentions of death (herve, jules, tonio)

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 2 means we're halfway there!! For this chapter, I focused on the delicate's chorus to show the more vulnerable and "human" side of the characters. I will add the other aspects of the song to the following chapters. I also wrote this in a different style but I hope u guys like it. <333 Lastly, thank you all so much for almost 500 likes on the first chapter. ·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·. screaming! crying!

word count: 3.5k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

                ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

01:57 ━━━━●───── 03:52 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

The light beamed into your eyes from the window, intensifying the pounding in your head and increasing your thirst. As you opened your eyes, you squinted against the brightness, gradually adjusting to the sudden flash. Sensing movement beside you, you turned around to find Charles sleeping shirtless beside you. Memories of the previous night flooded back, replaying in your mind.

Before leaving the party with Charles, you looked for Kika to inform her of your departure. Seeing Charles waiting for you near the elevator, phone in hand, she expressed concern with a worried expression. Charles had recently ended a three-year relationship, and his ex happened to be the best friend of his previous ex. Kika was well aware of Charles' red flags, as she knew you, her dear friend Y/N, were known for wholeheartedly loving and falling hard for others who often failed to appreciate you as you deserved.

“Please be careful,” She smiled at you to which you nodded. She watched as you approached Charles and he smiled upon seeing you. As you waved farewell to Kika, she softly whispers to herself, “with each other’s hearts.”

You and Charles found yourselves seated on the floor of your hotel room's living room, uncomfortable party clothes off, cozy hoodies on, and legs crossed, with a spread of chips, beer, and mini alcohol bottles laid out before you. During your conversation, you discovered your shared value of family, discussing the strong relationships you both had with your loved ones.

"Are you close to your mom?" It was a question you always asked the guys you were interested in. You believed that a man who had a good relationship with his mother would treat his partner with love and respect. Although it didn't always turn out to be true, you still posed the question.

"Yeah, the first thing I do when I return to Monaco is visit her. You know, she's the only one I trust to cut my hair?" Charles smiles warmly, reminiscing about his mom. "You see, she's a professional hairdresser. So, sometimes when she watches me on TV, she'll send me a text saying I need a haircut. I just reply with her flight details to come see me, and we laugh about it, but she still comes over. That's why I've never had a bad haircut!"

"That is adorable! How often does she visit and watch your races?" You ask, eager to know more about his mother.

"Well, not as often as I'd like, that's for sure. She usually accompanies Arthur to his races."

"Races? He races too?"

"Yeah, he competes in Formula 2. Sometimes the Formula 1 and 2 races coincide on the same weekends so I get to see them both." You're momentarily taken aback. Wow, they must be RICH rich!

"Formula 2? How many Formulas are there?!" You exaggerate.

"Just three, cheri," he chuckles. "You know, my dad used to race in Formula 3 back in the '90s."

"So, it runs in the family, huh? What does your dad do now?" You inquire, looking down and grabbing a chip. The room falls into an unexpected silence, and you glance up, noticing a soft and melancholic expression on his face.

"Well, actually, I lost my dad seven years ago," he replies, offering a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, Charles! I’m sorry, I had no idea..." Shock overtakes you, and you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand. Is that why he’s only been talking about his mom and brothers the whole night?

He interrupts, "No, it's okay. I think I’m getting used to talking about it. You know, they always interview me about their deaths. Sometimes I feel like they don't truly respect them, or me, and they just want me to talk about them for views and content."

"Deaths?" You're taken aback, struggling to comprehend the weight of his words.

"Yeah, over the past seven years, I've lost three important people in my life. My dad, my godfather Jules, and one of my best friends, Tonio."

"Charles, I'm so sorry to hear that. How have you been coping?" Rising from the floor, you move closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh.

"Sometimes I find myself spiraling into these depressive episodes where I just want to close off my heart. Because if you close your heart, no new people can enter, only to leave again." He looks away, his eyes welling up with tears. Your expression softens, and he musters a small smile in your direction. He continues, his voice filled with emotion, "I've tried it before, but I realized that it doesn't make anything easier. These days, I just choose to remember them for who they were, their lives, their dreams, and the sacrifices they made for me to be where I am today."

You were taken aback at Charles’ maturity. The mere thought of losing someone dear to your heart was overwhelming, and here he was, having experienced the loss of not just one, but three significant people in his life. You couldn't help but admire him for getting through his hardships and finding happiness in the time he shared with them. Especially since he uses it as motivation to be a better person.

As your conversation continued, you decided to shift to a lighter topic in an attempt to lift Charles' spirits. You shared stories of performing in numerous countries, while Charles recounted his experiences racing in Formula 1 events across the globe. You laughed at how unfamiliar you were with his sport, just as he was with your music.

He asks if you have your phone with you.

"Um, it's somewhere around here," you respond while searching for it. Eventually, you spot it on the kitchen counter. "Why?"

"Just open Apple Music or Spotify, whichever you prefer," he says with a mischievous grin as you sit back down in front of him. You nod and show him that Apple Music is open.

"Now search for my name," he instructs, and you type his name, discovering that he is listed as an 'artist'. There’s no way…

"Charles Leclerc Artist? How are you an artist?" you raise an eyebrow at him and glance back at your phone. You notice that he has released two songs in the past year.

He laughs at your confusion. "Well, Ms. Grammy singer, I also play the piano. I wrote these songs last year and finished them around the time of the Australian GP and the Miami GP, which is why they're named AUS23 and MIA23."

You're shocked, your mouth hanging open dramatically as you listen to the songs. Charles laughs at your reaction. You didn't think he could become any more attractive, and now he surprises you with this. Could he be the incarnation of your dream man?

"That's amazing! I guess I know who to call when I need help with a song," you wink at him, and he chuckles.

"No, no. You're at least 100 times better than me. I don't have as much talent as you do to write lyrics for the music," he praises you.

“Okay, since you know a bit about my art and making a song and all that, I, on the other hand, have no fucking idea about Formula 1. Like, why do you have to travel all around the world and race on different tracks? Is it like some kind of world tour?" You burst into laughter at your own humorous analogy, and Charles, who was as intoxicated as you, finding it amusing as well.

“Do you really want to understand it?” You nod at his question as he sits up straight and stretches his head and hands, “warming up” to explain.

"You see, every race weekend is different. Let’s say you do Plan A for this weekend, sometimes it works, and we get podium. But sometimes despite our best efforts, it doesn’t. So, after the race, we talk about what went right and what went wrong and then we make a new plan for the next race. Do you understand so far?”

You nod at him. Though a slight confusion still lingered in your mind, you couldn't help but be captivated by the passion radiating from his every word. The way his eyes sparkled, and his voice exuded genuine excitement revealed the depth of his love for his job. In that moment, you realized that this wasn't merely a profession to him; it was a true calling, a relentless pursuit of excellence that fueled his spirit.

"I still don’t understand. Maybe being there and watching it firsthand can help me. What do you think?" you playfully suggest, winking at Charles as you extend your legs onto his lap. He responds by grabbing your leg with his left hand and dramatically clutching his heart with his right, feigning a heart attack. "Oh, amour, the thought of you in red."

As your connection deepened, you both began to open up and share parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden. You spoke honestly about your doubts, worries, and the overwhelming thoughts that haunted you when you were alone.

"Can I ask you something?" you inquire, looking up at him.

"Go ahead," he replies, grabbing a chip and taking a bite.

"Have you read about me? Like on the internet, in articles or magazines?"

"I see the headlines, but I don’t really read them, so let's just go with a 'no,'" he says, wiping the salt and dust from his hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I’m sure I already know your answer, but doesn't it bother you sometimes, the things they write about you?" you question, and he nods, encouraging you to continue. "It's just that they always make comments about my personal life, especially with the people I choose to be with."

"Yeah, well, those people's lives are so miserable that they have nothing better to do than try to ruin ours," he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing.

You glance down at your lap, your hands fidgeting as you gather your thoughts, when Charles interrupts, taking your hand. "Hey, I know it sucks, but I think it's something that comes with success. It bothers me too when they do that to me. Look, I won't pretend to fully understand what you're going through because I know I don't."

You look up at him, puzzled. "Do you remember earlier at the party when you arrived before me? When your car pulled up at the restaurant, they went crazy. Now, I've been in front of cameras since I was a kid, and I know a thing or two about paparazzi, but I've never seen fame like yours before. They were taking so many pictures of you that it didn't even look like flashes anymore, it’s like someone had switched on a blinding light for those few seconds you walked from your car to the door."

"I couldn't really see you because of the crowd, but when I heard them shouting your name, it just made sense. Don't tell the engaged couple, but I'm 100% sure you were the best thing at the party. " he winks at you. "But still, that doesn't make it okay. The reason they act like that is because they are taking advantage of your popularity. They think that getting a good picture of you, or a story, out of you or even something they made up, is big money.”

You’ve thought of this before, the way they treat you is different from other celebrities, but you hesitated to bring them up, fearing it would make you appear arrogant. It was a nice change to discuss about your life, popularity and the challenges that come with it, and to be met with Charles' honest and genuine response. You look back at the times you talked about this with a partner, and how they dismissed your concerns, labeling you as ungrateful, overreacting, or even a drama queen. The contrast in reactions causes you to appreciate Charles' maturity, understanding and support.

Despite your seemingly different lives, his centered around sports, yours with music, your personalities and passion for your respective crafts and families made you remarkably similar. With every word exchanged, the infatuation between you grew stronger.

So, at 4 am, while leaning against the balcony of your hotel room, a comfortable silence settled between you.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve never experienced this before.” Charles says softly. “Staying up at this hour and talking about my life and the shit I go through to a girl I’ve only met for 8 hours now. It makes me feel like I want to tell you my whole life. It feels…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“I get what you mean. I never thought we would have a lot in common, especially since from the outside, it looks like we’re living different lives. But it looks like we're not so different after all.”

“Y/N, I know it’s too soon because we’ve only just met but I really want to get to know you better.” He faces you and draws himself closer. His green eyes pierce your Y/E/C eyes, he smiles genuinely at you.

As you gaze at him, your heartbeat quickens. You can’t tell if this is real life because you’re experiencing emotions you’ve never felt before. Here stands a guy who is caring, grounded, and by the way, absolutely gorgeous, and he is genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your thoughts waver back and forth, questioning whether this is okay. Is it cool that I’ve shared everything in my mind with him? Is it chill that he’s in my head?

Your mind and heart go into battle. Think! After all, you've only known this person for eight hours! Eight hours, Y/N! On the other hand, what if this is actually okay? Could this be the story of you meeting "the one"? Or your soulmate?

You tried to find a compromise.

Blushing, you gazed up at him and agreed, “I feel the same way. But can we take it slow? I never like to rush things, especially relationships.”

He nods and hugs you from behind. “Is this alright?”

You hummed and you both stayed there, watching the stars and the beautiful view of Florence.

You didn’t want the night to end, and you couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to him right now. So you tried to make up excuses for him to stay. “But, you know, it’s too dangerous to drive at this hour.”

“Cheri, there is no such as thing as a time that is too dangerous to drive.” He chuckles at your cuteness. “Plus, I’m a Formula One driver, I think I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t because we just finished doing shots like three hours ago! And what if other drunk people are driving around too?”

Charles lightly laughs at your stubbornness. He knows you’re too prideful to just tell him to stay the night, especially after you both agreed to keep things slow. He sees you avoiding his gaze, so he addresses you, “Y/N.”

As you looked up, he smiled at you and gently holds your chin and locking eyes. "Je suis folle de toi.” he uttered.

Confused, you smiled in anticipation, knowing he had likely said something sweet. Seconds later, he translated himself, the proximity between your faces nearly undoing you. "I am crazy about you.”

...

Carefully locating your phone, you closed the bedroom door behind you. Retrieving two water bottles from the mini fridge in the kitchen, you settled on the couch in the living room of your hotel suite, resting your legs on the coffee table.

You check your messages and there were some from Kika, and your management team. Kika texted you and said to meet her for brunch at 11. Though, with a Monegasque driver in your bed, you don’t know when you can leave, so you move on to the other conversations, keeping in mind that you reply to her soon.

Your management team’s group chats were asking where you are and who you were hanging with. You read their earlier messages and saw that there are articles and pictures of you and Charles leaving the party last night. You open your Twitter account and see the two of you are trending. Of course, we are.

You scrolled through the tweets and some fans were happy, some were not, some just... don't have any opinion. And you prefer the latter. Reading the tweets of the fans was one thing, but the way the media and articles talked about you was different. It's like they didn't have respect you.

The articles get to you, Why is there so much scrutiny around my dating life? They called you a serial dater, manipulator, etc., even creating "warnings" about you for Charles; saying you're just gonna break his heart and write a song about him.

You furrow your brow, wondering why they single you out like this and why other women aren't subjected to the same level of scrutiny. It's frustrating because they never say these things about other people, especially men in the industry who engage in similar dating behaviors. Your male friends in the industry can date different people or even cheat and sing about it without raising any eyebrows. But when it comes to you, the accusations fly.

When they accuse you of "jumping" from one relationship to another, they label you a player or claim you cheated. If you choose to casually date without exclusivity, they call you a slut. It never ends. Where do they expect me to stand? When will it all just stop?

You start to question whether the people you want to be with have seen what has been written about you and if your reputation, which may be based on something fake, can affect the real connections you might make. You begin to ponder the significance of it all and how much weight a reputation actually carries.

It's unfair. Your personal life should be yours alone, and people should mind their own business. If this is the price you pay for sharing your music and being famous, you want no part of it anymore. It feels like they don't respect you as a human being.

Hot tears stream down your face as your thoughts consume you, overwhelming you completely. Seeking solace, you sink from the couch to the floor, resting your chin on your knees. It's a familiar position, offering some comfort when you're feeling low. The grounding sensation reminds you that you're still here.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles already woke up and was also reading messages from his team. He was about to greet you when he heard you sniffling. He slowly opens the door and sees you on the ground, knees to your chest, crying. Suddenly, he understands the pain you're going through. He felt awkward. He didn't know whether to comfort you or pretend to go back to bed.

But Charles can't resist the sight of your shattered state. He pushes the door open fully and gazes at you, broken and vulnerable. His heart shatters alongside yours. Slowly, he approaches and sits in front of you, taking in the magnitude of your pain. You're startled, having forgotten he was sleeping in the other room. You wonder if he knows what you're crying about, if he's seen the internet already, but the thought pushed back behind your head when a pair of warm, gentle hands cups your face, thumbs trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong, mon ange?" he asks softly.

"Everything. The things they say about me... they're so mean. They're ruining my name, my reputation..." You manage to utter between sobs.

"Shh.. I know, cheri. But I don't care about what they write, alright? I want to know you. The real you." He comforts you. Running his hand up and down your arm as you find solace in his comforting embrace.

For the next ten minutes, you pour your heart out to him, releasing your pent-up emotions. When Charles senses that you had calmed down, he fetches the water bottle from the table and hands it to you. You finish it in one go.

"Feeling a little better now?" He offers, his considerate nature shining through. You smile and nod, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asks, showing his concern for your well-being. You shake your head for a no.

“Do you feel like going downstairs, or should we order room service?" Going for a walk would be refreshing, and it might help improve your mood, but given that you've just bared your soul to him, you don't feel like going out. More importantly, you remember that you'll encounter numerous people and potentially face unwanted attention when you're seen again with Charles.

"We? You don't have to stay here with me. I feel better already." You face him, pulling away from his embrace. You instantly regret it as you start to feel cold already, missing the warmth of his body against yours.

"And I'm not leaving until you feel your best again. So, restaurant or room service?" He asks again. God, he is even more hot when he's stern... and caring about my well-being, of course.

Considering your current state, you prefer the comfort of staying within the confined space of your room, cuddled up next to him. "Room service, please."

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

[flowerandblood]

The Man with the Fiery Gaze

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, oral sex, smut, angst, overstimulation, uncertainty related to physical wounds, trauma ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

Part 1 - The Man with the Black Mask | Part 2 - The Man with the Empty Heart | Part 4 - The Man with the Cold Lips | Part 5 - The Man with the Deep Scar | Part 6 - The Man with the One Eye | Part 7 - The Man with the Golden Gift | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 8 - The Man in the Black Crown | Part 9 - The Man with the Bloody Sword | Part 10 - The Man in the Black Gloves | Part 12 - The Man with the Pearly Hair

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Her husband terrified everyone but her. His cold, mocking gaze, his lips clenched into a thin line, his pallor, his black eye patch made it seem to her that his lordships saw him as a phantom rather than a man. She found it hard to believe how much he could change as he crossed the door of his chamber, as he joined her in bed, asking in a whisper if his little wife missed her husband.

She had always missed him.

When he was not beside her she felt incomplete.

To the fury of some lords, he expected her presence at councils, consulting her often, relying on her advice. She did not interfere in the affairs of the kingdom when he did not ask her to or when he did not want to hear her opinion, having no intention of undermining his authority or challenging his opinion in front of other lords.

She wanted him to know that he could always count on her support, and only spoke to him of her doubts behind the closed doors of their chamber.

They were bound together by deep darkness, grief and death, tying them together by an invisible thread of understanding.

She had the feeling when she looked at him, when he gripped her in his hands, that he was devouring her, with every thrust of his hips taking something of her for himself − when she embraced him tightly, joining with his lips in a sudden, passionate kiss she had the feeling that he was filling her whole, that they were one person.

There was something in his coldness, in his distance, in his enviousness that attracted her, in his almost frantic, menacing gaze as he looked at her with his mouth wide open, hissing for her to beg him for his seed, which she did devotedly, making him come inside her a moment later with a loud, low groan of pleasure.

"− we are one −" He whispered when it was all over, lying on top of her, staying deep inside her, looking straight into her eyes, his large hand stroking her cheek. "− you and me − you see me as I truly am −"

She smiled at his words, feeling gratitude, peace and heat rippling across her chest − the sight of such a reaction on her face always embarrassed him and moved him in a way, so he tried to distract her with a sticky, hot kiss which he placed on her lips, her fingers then sinking into his hair, reciprocating his caress with devotion.

She was horrified by how connected she felt to him.

She was horrified by how much affection he evoked in her.

She was the only person he really confided in about his dark thoughts. He spoke to her about the lords he doubted, took advice from her on the things that kept him awake, looking at her intently, knowing that he would recognise immediately if she lied to him.

She had no intention of doing so.

She was faithful to him in body, heart and mind.

He knew that, and that was what was driving him mad, pushing him to root into her at night until she begged him to finally let them both rest.

"− I need to make sure I've filled my wife well −" He panted between desperate, sloppy thrusts of his hips, their bodies all welted up from the exertion − he sank inside her with a loud click of her juices and his spend, looking at the sight of him taking her from behind, unable to deny himself watching his fat cock stretch her insides with his every thrust.

"− fuck − so good −" He mumbled, coming again with a sigh of wonderful relief, falling on top of her at last, his sweat-wet hands finding hers and entwining with them, his cheek nestled against hers, his lips surrounding her skin with his hot, raptured breath.

"− you smell wonderful − I could do this to you all night −" He muttered, lazily pushing his half-soft manhood deeper into her with soft rocking of his hips.

"− I know, my King − but have mercy on your poor wife who won't be able to sit up tomorrow −" She whispered half dreaming; it was late and all she wished was that he would let her lie like that with him and fall asleep.

She heard him murmur, felt his pride beating at the thought of him bringing her to such a state, feeling fulfilled as a man, a lover and a husband as a result.

"− your husband is merciful − sleep −" He hummed softly, leaning down, placing a kiss on her naked shoulder, turning with her to his side so that he was no longer crushing her with his body, embracing her tightly, her hands tightening on his arms, delightfully hiding in his embrace.

Very often they both had nightmares, each seeing the same thing in them − soldiers with swords who burst into their chamber screaming, killing them in their beds.

Her husband kept two daggers under their pillows, just in case, and every night he checked with an involuntary flick of his hand that they were in place before he fell asleep.

When she woke with a scream she could feel him shuddering beside her, terrified, clasping his arms around her, a quiet, helpless quiver escaping her lips.

"− shhh − it's me − you're safe − breathe −" He whispered softly, again and again kissing her hot, soft skin, stroking her bare body with his hands until her heart slowed again and her breathing calmed.

"− I dreamt that they came for us − that they slit your throat and then raped me in front of your eyes − you were still alive and they made you watch −" She mumbled out in a trembling voice feeling a tear run down her cheek onto the pillow under her head.

She heard him swallow loudly at her words, embracing her tighter from behind, nuzzling his face into her hair, his fingers stroking her bare shoulder.

"− no one will touch you − you're mine and you're safe − your husband will protect you −" He whispered quietly and she nodded, closing her eyes, allowing herself to focus only on the warmth of his body, on the tenderness with which his hand stroked her bare flesh, trying to give her any source of comfort.

When her moon bleeding began to delay she waited a long time before going to the medic to examine her, wanting to make sure she was not wrong in her assumptions. He, however, had no doubts.

"You are carrying a child in your womb, my Queen."

She decided that she must inform her husband immediately, personally, disregarding the fact that a council of his closest advisors was currently taking place, during which he insisted that no one should disturb them.

"My Queen, you cannot walk inside now." Said one of the guards.

Over the months after their marriage, her husband's followers slowly began to trust her and no longer referred to her with such coldness, however, her husband's will was paramount to them, and they feared nothing more than his wrath.

"Open the door. I must convey a message to the King that cannot wait." She said gravely, looking at them with her hands folded in front of her.

The men looked at each other uncertainly; the one she spoke to sighed heavily and with a clack of armour walked to the door, opening it. Her king-husband fell silent in mid-sentence, looking at her angrily as she stepped inside and bowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked at his guard with exasperation.

"I ordered that no one should disturb us."

"I must convey something important to you in private, my King. It is a matter of urgency." She said in a calm, confident tone, looking straight into her husband's face.

She saw him roll his eyes as he let out an impatient breath; he bited his lower lip and dismissed the men seated around the table with a gesture of his hand. They began to get up in silence, tense, leaving one by one until they were left alone.

"Speak." He said in an impatient, sharp tone, looking somewhere off to the side, tapping his pointing finger against the table top.

She approached him unhurriedly, saw him lift his gaze to her in which lurked a threat, telling her that if it turned out to be nothing important, he would lose his temper.

"I carry your inheritance in my womb, my King." She said softly, unable to hold back a shy smile, heat spreading through her heart as she saw his shocked look fall from her face to her lower abdomen where she held her hands, his lips parted in disbelief as if he had run out of words.

"… are you sure? Has you been examined by…"

"I've just been to the medic. I had suspected it for weeks, but I preferred to wait and be absolutely sure."

She heard him swallow loudly, saw his chest rise and fall in deeper breaths, his gaze fixed on her stomach. Wanting to embolden him, she gently grasped his wrist lying on the armrest of his chair and placed his hand where her womb was, stroking his skin with her thumb.

He sighed quietly, massaging her skin hidden beneath the material of her gown with his fingers, his gaze softened, the rage evaporating from him, replaced by shy disbelief.

He finally lifted his gaze to her and drew her to him − she fell into his lap, letting his wet, warm lips press against hers in a loud, sticky kiss. She sighed quietly in satisfaction and reciprocated his caress, pulling away from him, taking his cheeks in her hands.

"Does my King resent my interfering with his council?" She asked quietly, his hand from her waist involuntarily wandering to her womb again, as if he couldn't believe that at last the gods had blessed them with something they wanted so badly.

"No. You have pleased me with your words, wife." He hummed softly, his voice calm and warm, the way it usually was when they lay in the night snuggled into each other, tired and raspy from exertion and fulfilment.

She leaned into him and kissed his forehead, heard him purr contentedly.

"That is all I had to share with you, my King. With your permission." She said slipping out of his arms, wanting to get up, but she felt his shoulders clench tighter around her instead of letting her go, his cock throbbing beneath her with impatience.

"We cannot, my King. Your advisors are waiting." She whispered, looking at him calmly, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his pupil dilated, his irises almost black.

He answered nothing, his hands lifting her gown higher with an eager, sharp movement, forcing her to sit on top of him again − she sighed quietly unable to hide a smile of satisfaction.

When he saw this he clamped his hand painfully tight on her hair and forced her lips to cling to his again in an aggressive, roguish kiss − she grasped his cheeks in her fingers, stroking them with her thumbs.

He murmured contentedly and, wasting no time, undid the buckles of his tunic, then reached down to untie his breeches, sliding them down just enough to release his throbbing, swollen erection.

A low, surprised moan of delight erupted from his throat as she immediately grasped his length in her hand and directed it between her thighs, lowering herself onto it with a quiet sigh of pleasure. He leaned his head back resting it on the backrest, closing his healthy eye for a moment, a quiet, throaty fuck erupted from his lips.

They both began to pant as she began to slowly rise and fall on top of him, his large hands slipped under her gown and squeezed her bare buttocks impatiently, forcing her to speed up, the thrusts of his hips stretching her tight, fleshy walls with his hard, throbbing manhood.

She stroked his cheek and entwined her fingers in his soft white hair leaning over him, placing tender kisses full of devotion, desire and passion on his lips, her mouth wet and hot, a low, wonderful moan of delight escaping from his throat, his cock twitching with pleasure inside her.

"− don't stop − don't fucking stop − your King wants to fill you −" He hissed out between thirsty, deep, loud kisses, stifling their loud panting and moans as they did so, his chair creaking loudly each time she sank down on top of him, rubbing herself with it so that the fat head of his cock teased a wonderful spot deep inside her.

"− who am I to defy my King's command − my King can come inside me as many times as he wants −" She muttered sweetly, softly, feeling a shudder run through him, a sigh escaped his from his parted lips pressed against hers − she felt him throbbing inside her like crazy, her fleshy, hot walls clenched around him and sucked him in.

"− I − yes, fuck, oh godsss −" He gasped apparently struggling to restrain himself not to come, wanting to prolong this moment, but he gave in at last with a sigh of relief, pressing his face against hers, her fingers stroking his cheeks as she felt his seed fill her.

She felt his hand from her hip rise to her face and run through her hair, sliding down her neck, a pleasant shiver passed through her. They kissed lazily a few more times, calming their breathing and he finally pulled away from her with an expression of satisfaction, holding her chin between his fingers.

"You may leave, my wife." He hummed lowly. She smiled at his words and rose, feeling strangely empty as his manhood slid out from her with a loud splat. She adjusted her gown hearing him quickly tie his breeches, reaching for the buckles of his tunic and bowed humbly, no longer looking at him.

"My King."

She turned and walked out, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor where men stood waiting for them to finish their conversation, looking at her with furrowed brows. She suspected they knew exactly what they were doing.

She could feel his spend running down her thighs.

She knew they were jealous that he had allowed her to be so close, where every one of them dreamed of being his most trusted advisor.

She figured she wouldn't give them any reason to gossip and spread the opinion that she had become a queen by sneaking into his bed.

"Rejoice, my good lords. There is an heir to the throne in my womb." She said softly with a sincere smile of satisfaction, the men looked at her in disbelief and then at her abdomen.

Some seemed very pleased by this news, others only nodded, others seemed worried.

Until she bore the King an heir they believed that he would change his mind and divorce her, taking one of some lord's daughters as his wife.

However, they each offered her congratulations before entering the chamber, which they also repeated towards the King, who only nodded at their words, looking straight at her from across the table.

A living fire burning in his eye.

If it had seemed to her until now that her husband was obsessed with her, this impression was intensified further after passing on to him the joyful news that she was expecting his heir.

That night he took her gently and tenderly, first showering her with adoringly soft, wet kisses all over her naked body only to slide then between her thighs, sinking his tongue deep inside her, allowing her to reach her peak on his face.

He spent a long hour this way, licking her, teasing and sucking her pearl, tearing out of her fulfillment after fulfillment, watching with a smirk full of satisfaction as she wriggled beneath him in despair, babbling that she could take no more, that it was too much.

It seemed to her that what she was saying was having the opposite effect, the tip of his nose ran over her leaking womanhood again making her shiver.

"− you have made your husband happy today, sweet wife − I only wish to express my gratitude −"

From now on she could bother him at any time, of course, if the need was urgent or concerned their child.

He ordered the fruits she so adored to be brought to the fortress from the farthest reaches of the kingdom, and although she told him it was an unnecessary expense, he did not listen to her, recognising that it was his duty as her husband to provide her with everything he felt she needed in her blessed condition.

In the evenings, even when he was reading he longed to be close to her, so instead of sitting in his chair by the fireplace as usual, he would sit on the chaise longue, leaning back comfortably.

She would then come to him with a thick cloth in which she enveloped herself, not wanting to get cold in her nightgown alone, and lay down beside him, hugging the top of her head to his hip. His hand immediately moved to her shoulder, which he stroked in a steady, tender motion, flipping the page of the book lying on his thighs with a loud rustle.

Her pregnancy had been a huge trial for them, her belly swollen from his child had made her suffer, her back aching unmercifully, vexed by hot, dry nights during which she squirmed and could not sleep.

Although the medic had announced that he should not take her into his bed during the course of her pregnancy, she could not imagine having to wait so many months without touching him.

He did not seem enthused by the idea either, so they met in his chamber like parted lovers.

He was gentler towards her, the thrusts of his hips softer and more tender − he didn't want to hurt her or their child, his hand clenched on her womb as he root into her from behind, panting loudly, saying that he would stop soon, that just a moment more.

One time she was so hot that she couldn't sleep and she decided to sneak out of his chamber, not wanting to wake him up again, knowing that he couldn't sleep because of her. He never complained about it, however, she knew that he had trouble concentrating, the thought of her impending labour putting him in a constant state of anxiety and worry.

He was afraid.

She breathed heavily in relief as she stepped into her chamber, stroking her abdomen, feeling her child wriggling in her womb, thinking about the fact that only a few more months and it would be over.

She lay down in her bed, which had previously been her mother's chamber, and before that, Queen Alicent's. She thought of the underground shelter beneath her, of her husband having spent several days there.

He had told her about it one night when they lay tired, the healed wound in his eye socket sometimes causing him pain and the medic then had to pull out the sapphire that was placed there to apply ointment.

It turned out that the polished stone rubbed him and created small wounds that oozed and then caused him great discomfort.

"My Queen, the King should not wear this stone in his eye socket nor his eye patch for the next few weeks. He, however, insists on only taking a break for a few days until the ointment takes effect. I beg you to speak his mind, he will listen to you." Said a man in a simple brown robe, as she understood, one of the monks who had once saved her husband's life.

She nodded and walkend into his chamber − he sat in a chair leaning to one side, his black eye patch on his head, his hand massaging his temple, his face expressing discomfort and fatigue.

He looked at her sleepily and she thought immediately that the medic had given him poppy milk, which meant that his pain was so severe that he had decided to stupefy his senses, though he always kept his mind as sharp and focused as possible.

She approached him, sighing quietly, with a face expressing genuine concern − she took his hand in hers and stroked it with her thumb, but said nothing.

She knew that the last thing he wanted from her was pity and he would have preferred them to pretend that there was no subject, however, this time the matter was too serious for her to leave it out without a word.

"I was told by the medic that in order for your wounds to heal properly, you should not wear your eye patch at night so that your skin can rest and regenerate on its own." She said in a soft whisper, stroking his hand with her fingers. She felt him tense up all over; he turned his head away in impatience, showing her that he had no intention of discussing it with her.

"We'll cover the windows with curtains if you wish." She added, wanting to convince him if he wanted so badly for her not to see him without his sapphire, that there was a way.

"No." He replied roughly, even though his head was facing her sideways his eye was looking in her direction.

She swallowed loudly at the thought that ever since they had been married he had always left a single candle lit next to their bed when they went to sleep, his proof that his days of being locked away in endless darkness were over.

"I carry your heir under my heart, the medics think I need to get enough sleep and avoid worry. How can I manage this when I see my king-husband suffering through no fault of his own and making his condition worse for me? Let us draw the curtains."

"You will not keep your word. Just as you did then." He said coldly, turning his face towards the burning fireplace.

She felt a squeeze in her throat, her heart pounding harder in her chest as she realised he was speaking about when, while he was still her guardian, she had opened her eyes before he left even though she had promised him she would not do such thing.

"You knew everything about me then and I knew nothing about you. Now you are my husband and as always I will respect your will. I swear it on our child." She said calmly and slowly, wanting him to know that her words were sincere and serious.

She saw his jaw clench as he swallowed loudly and squeezed his eye shut, she knew that a wave of pain was running through his head again. He covered his face with his hand in a gesture of surrender.

"I won't forgive you if you don't keep your word." He said lowly; she knelt beside him, laying her head on his thigh, reaching with her palm to his hand extended on the armrest of his chair.

"I will keep my word, my love. Let's go to sleep."

As promised, this time it was she who drew the curtains, one by one, making the entire chamber fall into complete darkness. Walking back to their bed she had to walk slowly with her hands stretched out in front of her, not wanting to hit anything − she hissed when she bumped her knee on the small table, she heard him rise on the bed.

"Did you hurt yourself? Come here." He said impatiently − she felt his hand grab her arm and lead her straight to the bed. She landed in his arms and kissed him, however instead of a sigh of delight she heard his muffled sound of discomfort and pain.

She reached in the dark for his eye patch and pulled it gently off his head − she could hear him breathing loudly, his hand clenched tightly on the material of her nightgown.

"You see me." He said reproachfully, pained, his voice breaking as he spoke the words in such a way that she felt a sting in her heart.

"I can't see anything, my love. I swear, it's too dark." She whispered softly and ran her fingers over his healthy cheek, a powerful shudder went through her when she felt it was wet, after a moment she felt another tear run down between them.

He was crying.

This realisation shocked her so much that for a moment she didn't know what to say, her throat squeezed so tightly it made her ache.

"− my beloved husband − please, don't despair −" She mumbled in a trembling voice, stroking his hair as if he were a small child. She felt his strong arms tighten around her and pull her closer − she snuggled her face into his neck, her hand placed on his bare chest just above his heart.

He closed her in a tight embrace, stroking her back and hands − she heard him sigh heavily, as if he was trying to get something out of himself but was unable to.

"Since you have been my wife, there has always been at least one candle lit in my chamber." He uttered without strength; she lift her hand again and stroked his cheek, hushing him, pressing her forehead against his jaw, his fingers tightening on her hair.

"I will be your light this night and every night that follows, for as long as it takes, my love." She said softly. She heard him swallow loudly, letting the air out with a heavy sigh, desperate.

"Embrace me through the night, sweet wife. Don't let me out of your arms."

_____

I'm ending this series here because we've reached what I wanted, which is an openness and vulnerability that brings them completely closer together. I didn't want to suggest to the fans what would happen next, whether a girl or a boy would be born, or maybe a tragedy would happen to them? In my mind, they have six children, exactly the number Alys predicted, but all of them are born from his queen wife. They ruled bloodily, justly and indivisibly, trusting only themselves, their relationship on the verge of obsession caused general terror, and was a source of jealousy for others.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

[nolita-fairytale]

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter eleven

summary: you receive bad news, but luca is there for you. and it seems like he's intent on continuing to be there for you.

warnings: angst, grief, death, vomiting, fluff, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.

word count: 3.3k

listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist (specifically 'how to mend a broken heart' - al green & 'love' - kendrick lamar; another very will poulter-coded choice)

a/n: pov: it's me warning you that there is in fact angst but trust, babes. trust. after the trauma of meeting donna b in season 2, i wanted to explore characters who had positive relationships with their mothers. so if you have not picked up on it yet, this story is also about mothers **cries because it's too damn sweet. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.

part ten | masterlist | part twelve

Astrid: Hey give me a call when you’re up. 

I don’t want to worry you, but we need to talk. 

Your fingers hurriedly move to open up the multiple missed notifications that you have from her, holding the phone up to your ear so that you can listen to her voicemail next. 

“Hey… I know you’re probably still asleep right now,” you hear, her voice somber, as you listen to Astrid’s voicemail, left for you at three in the morning. “And I know that you’ve got your do not disturb on. But I really need to talk. Call me when you’re up.” 

Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races with fears over what this could be about, and as your eyes scroll through the other missed notifications, you see something that stops you in your tracks: 

1 Missed Call from Joe

And it all suddenly feels real, a sense of dread fills your throat, and you can only imagine that it must be an emergency if both Astrid and Joe have called. Your mind races. It can’t be about Joe – if he called too, right?

The severity of the situation forces you to sit up straight as you steal a glance Luca’s way. You’re grateful that he’s such a heavy sleeper as you peel the covers back, tiptoeing out into the living room so that you don’t wake Luca. Your fingers shake as they hover over Astrid’s name, before tapping down on the screen so that you can give her a call back. 

It only rings twice before Astrid answers, a tiredness in the way her voice sounds, as if she hasn’t slept all night. 

“Hey, Astrid. What’s going on?” you ask, a panic that colors your voice as you wait for her reply. 

The anticipation builds in every moment of silence she leaves between the two of you. 

“It’s mum. Ehm…” she trails off, her voice breaking. 

No. 

It’s as if your worst nightmare is coming true – like no matter how many times you’ve rehearsed this scenario in your head, prepared for it, braced for it, nothing softens the blow of the words that Astrid utters. 

“She’s gone. She passed. Early this morning,” Astrid finally says, a sob following. “We’re still at the hospital right now.” 

As Astrid begins to cry, you let her, even though you feel like you can’t breathe. Through her tears, she tries her best to explain what happened and you can feel yourself going numb as you listen. You can barely process what she’s saying as the words wash over you, a deep pain building in your belly with each detail she shares: that mum hadn’t been feeling well late last night, that she had a fever of 104 F and that’s when they knew she had to be taken to the hospital, that she passed a few hours later. 

It was sudden. 

It was quick. 

And now, Astrid’s whole world – your whole world, and Joe’s – has changed forever.

All you can do is attempt to breathe, to listen, and try your best not to drop your phone as your hands tremble.

You can feel it, a sickening feeling that wells up from your belly and into your throat as you croak out:

“Astrid, I’m so sorry.”

“After everything we’ve been through, all the rounds of chemo… I just can’t believe that overnight she’s gone,” Astrid whispers, tears falling down her cheeks. “I just-, I thought we’d have more time.”

“I know. Me too,” you agree quietly. 

It doesn’t feel real, and you wonder if you’re just in denial. 

“I’m so sorry to call like this. But I thought you should know,” Astrid apologizes, clearing her throat as she continues. “‘M sure I ruined your high from the all-night shag-fest with the hot pastry chef, now didn’t I?”

You chuckle, in response to her attempt to lighten the mood. 

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you called,” you reassure her, your voice soft. 

“I’ve got to go. Joe and I are going to try to grab something to eat and ehm, try to get a hold of Lina. I’ll keep you posted on everything. On all the details, you know… about… anything we do,” Astrid informs you, trying her best to pull herself together.  

“But I just wanted you to know and ehm, well, I know Joe called.”

“No, I-. Yeah,” you stammer through, at a loss for words. “I… I’ll give him a call. And thank you… for calling me. Thank you for telling me.”

Astrid nods solemnly, “She loved you like one of us.”

You swallow, as a stream of tears streak your cheeks 

“Yeah I… I love – loved – her too.” 

You clear your throat, unaware that your hands have begun to shake. 

“And please keep me posted. I’d like to be there… at the funeral. If you think it’s appropriate.”

“‘Course,” Astrid agrees. “I love you. Call you later?”

“Please. And… yes,” you say, adding if it’s a promise:

“I love you too.”

As soon as you hang up the phone, it’s as if your body knows something you don’t – like your brain hasn’t quite processed the news, racing your body to intellectualize everything you’ve just heard, so your body has to take over instead. Your stomach flips, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to vomit. You sprint to your small apartment bathroom, throwing the toilet seat up with a clang as you begin to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet, in an uncontrollable physical response.

The sound of you retching, coughing up the last of it, seems to wake up Luca. You brace yourself against the toilet, flushing it as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Your body feels fragile and your mind races as you reach behind you for the towel that lays folded over your towel bar, clutching it towards you. 

“My love, is everything alright?” you hear his voice, as Luca stirs, sitting up in bed. 

The sound of his footsteps heading towards you fill your ears, and as they get closer and closer to you, Luca appears in the doorway, his eyes squinting from how jarring of a wakeup he’s just had. You look up at him, noticing the way his face has twisted itself into a look of concern, swallowing as you rack your brain, searching for a way to explain what just happened. 

“Well, the good news is that I’m not pregnant,” is all that comes out, in sheer disbelief that you’ve chosen to make a joke at this moment. Luca only looks more concerned, more worried, more confused, so you shake your head this time, muttering an apology under your breath. “Uh… remember when I told you… my ex’s mom… she got really sick and we had to move to the UK because of it?”

“Yeah,” he answers, unsure of what this has to do with why you’re stuck to the bathroom floor. 

“I-. Astrid, his sister, just called. She uh…” you trail off, because it feels like you can’t get the words out of your mouth – like if you say it out loud, it’d make it all the more real. 

Your voice, this time much somber, croaks out the words, and you feel sick to your stomach again.

“She passed… last night,” you finally say again, a wave of nausea coming over you. 

“Oh, my love,” Luca sighs empathetically, as his heart falls at the news. “I’m so sorry.”

But before he can say anything else, you’re folded over the toilet once more, caught up in a competition with your own body of which could be worse: dry heaving or vomiting. Instead of leaving, Luca takes a few steps towards you, sitting down next to you as he rubs soothing patterns across your back, as you work this out. What feels like forever, and simultaneously, barely a few seconds, your back is pressed against the wall as you try your best to get your heart rate back down. 

The cold floor and the rigid wall that you’ve pressed your back against feels grounding, perhaps the only thing tethering you to this world. Luca sits with you quietly, but his presence can be felt in tonnes. It’s strong, steady, comforting, with care and love in every single touch and touch he sends your way. 

After a few minutes of letting you stare at the wall blankly, Luca gets up, kneeling on his knees as he offers his hands to you. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you some water and back into bed,” Luca suggests. “I’ll call Jesper and Mathilde. Let them know you’re not going in today.”

You nod, sliding both of your hands into his as he helps to your feet. 

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

“How are you doing, babe?” Luca asks you, as you wake up from your nap. 

You’re grateful that he called in today, after the news, and called in for you as well. After your phone call with Astrid, not to mention hurling the entire contents of your stomach (and then some) into the toilet this morning, you’d crawled back into bed and fallen asleep. It hadn’t been great sleep – more so an avoidance mechanism than anything else, you realize – as you begin to come to. 

“Jesper was just here. Came by to drop off food,” Luca adds, as you move onto your side so that you can face him. “They’re worried about you.”

“I’m not hungry,” is all you manage to say. 

He nods, “For later maybe.” 

He pauses, before repeating his question from earlier. 

“How are you doing? What can I do?

You think it over, only slightly upset with yourself for being annoyed at his question. Of course he’s only trying to be helpful, only trying to care for you through this horrible thing. But it’s not like there’s anything he can do to take your pain away either, which, it’s silly you know, is what bothers you so much about his ask. 

But as you look over at the man who wants nothing more than to love you, and you know he’s only trying to be helpful in an unwinnable situation.

You muster up your best smile, because you want to reassure him that you’re sort of-kind-of-okay, and you’d rather try than be a jerk right now. 

“Come back to bed?” you ask him, your voice lifting at the end of the question. “I think I just want you to hold me.”

“Sounds like something that could be arranged,” Luca replies with a smile on his face, in an attempt to lighten up the mood a little. 

As you lay on your side, Luca curls up behind you, engulfing you in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, tangling his legs with yours underneath the covers. And you’re right. It does make you feel better – being held by him – and you’re glad that you chose not to push him away. 

After a few beats, and a thick silence between the two of you, Luca finally speaks again.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

Do you?

You debate with yourself whether or not you want to, because on one hand you feel weird about it – asking Luca to listen to you talk about how much you loved your ex husband’s mother – and on the other, you’re afraid. 

Afraid it’ll hurt too much. 

Afraid it may break you open. 

Eventually, the part of you that leans towards saying ‘yes’ wins, as you answer with:

“Yeah. I think that might be helpful.” 

Luca nods behind you, before nuzzling his nose into the space between your neck and your shoulders. He leaves soft kisses against your skin that have no intention of being anything but a comforting gesture. 

“Astrid said something on the phone earlier. That she loved me like one of them,” you start, your voice caught in your throat as you say it. 

“And she did. She embraced me as her own… like…” you trail off, chuckling as you recall your favorite memories of Aiko Kimura. 

“She was beyond upset to learn that I didn’t grow up pleating dumplings around the table when I was a kid, which was… I think maybe the first thing we ever cooked together. She pulled out all the stops. Made a huge thing of it and made Joe, Astrid, and Lina join us so that I could get the real family experience.”

“And every time after that… she always wanted to teach me something new, something I could learn, carry with me,” you continue, the memories so fond and the feeling so bittersweet. 

“She was all about… slowing down, using the senses, no-recipe kind of stuff. I think it’s where I got so much of my heart from. In my food.”

You’re really not sure how you’re keeping it together, but, you decide, you might as well lean into the sweetness for now. 

“I should do a dish. For her. At the restaurant,” you declare, coming to the conclusion as the words leave your lips. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Luca agrees, leaving another soft kiss along your shoulder. 

“To honor her. You know?” you add. 

Luca only hums in response, his arms wrapped around your frame holding you tighter against his chest. 

You wait a beat. 

Then another, your thoughts, moving a mile a minute from being plunged into grief from this devastating loss. 

“I’m nervous – about going to London,” you confess, softly. You like to ask, usually, if it’s okay – if Luca wants to hear about these kinds of things – but it feels virtually unavoidable. 

“I haven’t been back since Joe and I divorced… since I moved here. But I think I should. For the funeral.”

“Do you think it’ll be soon?” Luca asks, as you turn your head to look at him, checking that this is a conversation he’s willing to have. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I’m waiting for Astrid to tell me. But Lina’s, their youngest sister, has been studying abroad – Singapore – so… I don’t know.”

“I’m just nervous… about it all, I guess. A lot’s changed. I’ve… changed.”

At this point you’re just thinking out loud, no longer able to contain the stream of consciousness that flows from with an ease that makes you anxious. 

Of course, you’ve changed. You have a new life here. You’re a you that you’ve never been before, having shed the layers of your past self like a snake shedding its skin. The realization is striking, while your ambivalence to return to your previous home in your new form feels more and more significant. 

It’s Luca’s turn to be quiet as he thinks over whether or not the idea in his head is appropriate to suggest, figuring, the worst thing you can do is say ‘no.’ 

“I could go with you,” he offers, quiet, yet sure. 

Oh. 

“But if you don’t feel like it would be right… under the circumstances…” Luca continues, in fear of making things more complicated for you. 

“No I-. What do you-, like… in what capacity?” you interject, hesitant about the question that you’re bringing up. 

You’re not sure why it’s taken this long for either of you to articulate it, especially since you’ve already called him your boyfriend to your friends, to your mom, but the naming, the voicing of the sacred label is still something you haven’t done. 

You don’t want to overcomplicate things, considering it already feels complicated, so what you’re really asking him is:

How would I introduce you?

“I was thinking… as your boyfriend,” Luca answers, slowly. “But if you think it’s too much – introducing me during this-.” 

“No, I. Yes! I want to,” you’re quick to reply, reassuring him that you’re still all in, even in the midst of this loss – especially in the midst of this loss. You wiggle your body so that you’re now facing him, your chests pressed together, and you wonder if he can feel yours pounding away. 

“Yes. I want you to come. I… I want to introduce you to them… to everyone, as my boyfriend.”

Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Luca leans in to press a short kiss to your lips before nodding in agreement: “Okay.”

You wait a beat, almost as if you think he’ll take it back, considering the circumstances. Only, he doesn’t, so you have to ask. 

“You would really do that?”

“Yeah,” he replies, simply. 

“I mean.. It’s just going to be a lot. It’s… a fucking funeral,” you continue to list, giving him every ‘out’ that you can possibly think of. “And you’d have to meet Joe. Which I can only imagine will be incredibly uncomfortable considering the circumstances and I’m not even sure what to expect because Joe and I have barely talked in months and I-.” 

You know you’re rambling, but you can’t help yourself. 

“Luca, I don’t know if I can ask you to do that.”

“You don’t have to, my love. I offered,” he says, as one of his hands cradles your head, his eyes on yours. 

“Plus, I don’t have to be with you the whole time. I know it’s going to be a tough trip for a lot of reasons. I could give you some space while we’re there too, so you don’t feel you have to entertain me. I’ll go see my mum, catch up with a friend….”

His reassurance seems to quell your nerves and you’re no longer panicking (as much) about introducing your people to your new boyfriend while grieving the loss of their matriarch. But you want him there. You so want him there. You want his support, and when he’s so willingly offering it to you, volunteering to enter the lion’s den with you, how can you say ‘no?’

“Why are you so good to me?” is all that comes out of your mouth. 

“Because I-,” Luca begins, pausing as he carefully chooses his next few words. You watch as he debates with himself, his decision clear when he opens his mouth again to say:

“Because you deserve it, babe.”

It’s then and there that you wonder what he was going to say before, half expecting him to say, ‘because I love you.’ 

But he doesn’t, and in some ways, you’re glad that whatever internal decision he made, that it wasn’t that. It’s not that you don’t want him to, because you’ve been feeling it too. It’s in every pause before you hang up the phone with him. It’s in the moments that you say your goodbyes for the morning or the evening that you watch the impulse, though fleeting, flash through his eyes. It’s in the way that you feel it so deeply in your bones that it makes you ache in the best kinds of ways. 

 You don’t want your first ‘I love you’ to be tainted with the grief and sadness surrounding this moment, but it’s been on your mind ever since your trip to Skagen. You think maybe you dreamed it, hearing him call you the love of his life, but whether or not it was real, those three words have hung heavily between the two of you ever since. 

“Thank you,” is all you say, before you repeat it again. 

“Thank you.”

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

Everything feels off. You can’t cry. 

And you’ve tried. 

But ever since Luca left to run an errand, to run to the store, you’ve felt off-kilter. 

Perhaps it’s because you’ve had him to distract you this whole time. 

Perhaps it’s because you’re trying to be strong for everyone: for Astrid, for Lina, who you’ve been texting with all day – trying to coordinate a time to FaceTime – for yourself. 

Perhaps it’s because you haven’t called Joe yet. 

But, you’ve decided, you really need to cry. 

You pick up the phone, knowing exactly what you need to do, knowing exactly who you can let yourself completely fall apart with. 

The phone rings a few times before the person on the other line picks up, and as soon as you hear the silence on the other line, waiting for you to speak first since you called first. 

“Mom?”

And she can hear it in your voice as it breaks, concern and worry filling her every word and she asks: 

“Oh sweetie. What happened?”

And finally, you can let go.

[reasaph]

"I don't believe in God, but I believe that your my savior.

Soshiro Hoshina x Suicidal Fem reader!

Summary: (name) a person who has no beliefs, no reason and no will to live gets hospitalized after another attempt. There, she meets Soshiro Hoshina and looked forward to waking another morning ever since.

Authors note: THIS FEELS SO RUSHED AHHH. I don't like how reader likes him at first meeting :((, I'll try to do better next chapter.

TW: Suicide, self-destructive behavior, cussing, reader gets attracted a lil to fast, Injury, mention of drugging, the angst lessens at the end.

The title is from the song "Sailor song" by Gigi Perez!

Part 1

You oh so desperately wanna fuck with death. You wonder if The reaper is gentle when leading you to its chambers. The thought crosses the cocoon of your brain every time you gamble with your life on edge.

Every time a noose is slipped past the crown of your head and on the way to envelope your neck in the most lovingly way its ever been craddled. Every time you swallow those intoxicating pills which you found and deemed adorable because of its miniature size, theyre so small, perfect for the way they kill you off slowly (atleast was supposed to).

In every attempt, you wonder, will death be as beautiful as you imagined?

This time is no different.

The breeze felt nice, it was cool against your skin. The sun was shining brightly, much to your predicament. Its as if it was mocking you, screaming at your presence 'the day will not mourn you, go ahead and jump but not a soul will bat an eye or shed a tear'. Your feet carey you to the very edge, step by step. As odd as it may be, you dont wanna die on such a lovely day. It opposes the idea of your ideal and perfect suicide. You want the skies to feel as you feel. You want the clouds to heave and the horizon to dim. Your plan seems to be soiled by the tilt of earths axis just for today.

"I'll try tomorrow."

All of a sudden, the realization of how close you actually were to the edge hit you like a truck. It made you wobble and lose balance. Again, the world had other plans for you. It always does, never in your years of living has life been cooperative and actually side with you for fucking once. You learned to not care anymore, Embracing the wind as you fall, enjoying the nice breeze before your head cracks. It was warm when you hit the ground and it was oddly comforting. You could feel your eyes already dropping so you let them. You let your consciousness get taken away, you have no reason to fight anymore. You let yourself get lost, not bothering the sirens echoing in the background.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You thought there was no next day for you. You were wrong, utterly wrong. You wake up in a hospital room. It was blindingly white, and the light on the ceiling only added to it. You had a hard time adjusting to the flashing hue's of the room. You could here the rhythmic beating of the machine beside you, lines drewn on the screen. It means your heart is still beating, it means your still alive. You could only sigh at that. A few couple minutes passes before a doctor came in, accompanied by a nurse. They checked your vitals and gave you fresh doses of whatever medicine. You dont care what they put inside your body, you'd just prefer if it was an some kind of sedative that could kill you.

"Every thing seems fine, no bad reactions and readings. Although for a few broken bones. Your lucky your fall was short, another floor high and your Skull wouldve cracked." he informs you. He doesn't even try to cover the grimace soaking his voice. Hes disgusted by you, Of course he is. You wish you could unsee the final glance he gave you as he exited the room, the nurse following in suit.

As soon as the door slides, It was only you again. Your thought's look back to replay he said, Lucky? You dont deem life precious enough to think that surviving is lucky. The next few hours were agonizingly painful. Like any other day, you just sat down on a matress and stared at the pristine marble on the floor or the peeling paint of the walls. It was only a Matter of time before you bang Your head repeatedly as a form of entertainment. You couldn't take it anymore, your mouth felt as dry as a dessert and your legs are aching to move.

You put on your slippers and the next minute you find yourself roaming the Labrynth of these hospital walls. You force yourself to walk even if your legs still hurt, in result you just limp. You were pretty sure you looked like a corpse in others eyes right now, dragging your feet and breathing as if you were just being forced to, not to mention the hospital gown your wearing. If you dont find a vending machine in the next counting Seconds, you were sure your gonna trip. A few more given minutes adventuring through hallways and dragging the weight of your body with your damaged leg and your perseverance was graced with the finding of the cafeteria.

There was tons of food to fill a plate with, but you only came here for a drink. Besides, you dont like the feeling of being full. It was always uncomfortable to you every time your stomach filled to the brim, you always vomit a lil after a full meal. You make your way to the lined up vending machines, entertained by the numerous colorful hues on the labels of the drinks. There are a variety to choose from; coffee probably for stressed out doctors, flavoured juice probably for children and lots more to choose from. You look at the prices and grimace, a bottle of water here costs twice more than a bottle of water outside. You could guess the reason why, yet still find it unbelievable. Companies are shit.

Patting the depths of your pockets to grab your wallet. Your eyes widen when you don't feel its shape bulging through the fabric. You shoved your hand in the pit and grieve the fact that no solid matter was occupying its space. You honestly felt like sobbing. You dragged yourself all the way here and it'll result to nothing. Theres no one to blame but yourself, really. You were always told that you never used your brain for common sense, if someone could see you right now, they'd laugh at your idiocity for sure. And no, you didn't feel the presence approaching you from behind.

"Uh can i use it now—?"

You've never whipped your head so fast that you swear you heard something crack. But you dont care about that, the only thing that you poured all your utmost attention is the man in front of you, staring directly at his face and him reciprocating. The first thing you took notice of is his hair, a mesmerizing blob of purple. You never thought once in life you'd find a bowl cut plesantly aesthetic to look at.

"Mam, ya ok? Yer staring at me like ya'v seen a ghost." He has a dialect, ok, thats added to the list.

"No, uh. I forgot my wallet, my bad. I'll be on my way now." You said you were going yet you havent moved a muscle. You still havent moved away from blocking the vending machine and you curse yourself for it. You could only blame it on your leg, but theres something else holding you back. He'll probably shove you away, wont he? You hope he would, so you'd snap out of your weird episode and get going.

"Ya look like you've been dragged here. Move, I'll treat you."

That was unexpected. You never thought those were the bunch of words that would come out of his mouth. He's smilling to, revealing the fang thats been covered. Does he actually mean it? No, thats not the question you need to ask. Does he have as much interest in you as you have with him? Or is he just this friendly by nature?

"Really? Thank you very much.. Sir?"

"Hoshina, Soshiro Hoshina. And ya dont need to call me sir. "His laugh made you stagger, it was melodic. A tune rivalling the most beautiful songbirds. You drag yourself to a bench and sit down as he drops coins down the slot. You look at him the entire time, drinking every detail about him you can possibly take in. The fact that he has bandages all over his figuer A the hospital gown, the scarlet of his pupils that reveals itself everytime he opens his eyelids, the way his hands were bruised and calloused with seemingly really old scars. All of it, you wanted to learn as much as you can.

" here, hope ya like coffee." He has that huge smile on his face again, maybe thats what intrigued you so much. How he smiles like he's never been unfortunate since his day of birth. It pissed you off but also made you extremely envious.

"Thanks, I'll make it up to you next time." You dont know what you meant by that. What next time were you talking about? No way, you actually want to see him again. No way, because never have you ever looked forward to anything despite your last breath. So why were you making excuses just to spend eVen a second more in his presence?

"Next time, huh? Sounds great, although You dont really hafta."

"I want to. Breakfast tomorrow at 8?"

"Oho, really straightforward aint ya, lil miss?"

"(Name)"

You wonder if you've said anything wrong because of the evident look of confusion on his face. Immediately, you try to redeem yourself.

"I've never mentioned my name. "

That worked, you thought, because Of the way he let out an Exgerrated 'ohh' as if the clogs in his brain started functioning again.

"Then, nice to meet ya, (name)!"

And then one thing lead to another. The conversation between you two kept going on, from one topic to another. The topics ranging from 'dont you think the cafeteria nuggets are fire?' to talks about the theories of shows you two happen to both watch. No personal questions were asked yet between the two of you. But you oh so badly want to ask the reaskn hes hospitalized right now and covered in bandages. Of course you dont utter a word about it, not wanting burst the bubble that created a comfortable atmosphere between the two of you. Here, On the bench with him. Its the most joyous you've been in months. If you could be greedy, you'd just stay here with him. But thats not gonna happen, no way life had given him to you for a good reason. But for now, you'll bask in every moment you spend with him.

You'll have a reason to wake up next morning.

[hellosweetart]

Little Employee

(chapter 1 fanfic is already here finally.)

Chapter 1: Infiltration

As Yui is enjoying her conversation with her fellow worker, a sudden commotion is happening in the club.

When the girl got curious to see what it is, she felt the same fear when she sees the very same group who tormented her.

Ayato, the third son of Sakamaki brothers, begins to threaten everyone. Bodyguards were beaten up; one is almost getting choked to death. The violent vampire is getting impatient.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" He roared.

"I'm here!" Yui rushes in. She doesn't want the vampires to cause any more harm because of her.

Remembering the sport that her boss taught her, she pulled out her handgun.

"PUT HIM DOWN, AYATO!"

In a blink of her eyes, she felt strong hands grabbed upwards by the angry vampire, causing the gun to blow up. People screamed and panicked. 

"You think you can fight me, idiot?" He laughed, and pushed her hard to the floor.

Yui looked up, all eyes of Sakamaki brothers are on her. She noticed that Subaru, the youngest one, cannot look at her further, and moves his eyes away.

How stupid of her. She should have listened to her boss.

"Remember dear, your new heart is still under developed. So make sure to avoid any sort of trouble, okay?" 

The rest of the brothers are clearly enjoying the sight of her in pain and humiliation. Though, Ayato scrunched up his nose and told her with irritated voice, "You smell weird, pancake. Did they do something to you?"

"It doesn't matter." The second son, Reiji, intervened. "We have her now. Let's leave this wretched place."

"No, all of you leave this place! I AM NOT GOING!"  Yui told the brothers off in determined tone.

This caused the vampires make various reactions, but she knows they feel insulted.

"You're ordering us now? And who said you can deny us?"

"I DO."

An ominous figure appeared behind the girl, much to the vampires' shock, disgust and awe.

"Gentlemen...Gentlemen. Please let us not cause anymore chaos into my club, shall we?" He greeted the brothers with his polite smile.

Ayato, whose eyes are fixed to the mysterious entity spoke, "W-who are you?"

"Ah, silly me! I am the owner of this nightclub. You may call me Mr. Dealer." He puffed out his smoke for a bit and added, "How about we have a nice little chat at the moment?"

The Sakamakis didn't respond.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." The Dealer made a toothy sharp grin. 

"Except for the humble guests... EVERYONE, OUT." His voice echoed around the club.

People began scrambling away, some goes through the fire exit, some jumps out of the windows, some directly runs to the employee's entrance. The female co worker of Yui took her hand, pulling her to get away from the club. The fifth son, Laito, witness them and begins to go after Yui. 

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING, LITTLE BI--"

His chase got cut off when he felt a huge hand grabbed his body, stopping him to go further. The Dealer is not harsh on him, but giving him a hint to not resist.

"I believe this is a better place to chat." The club owner gently puts down the shocked young man to the floor, and puts the hat to the guest's head in a friendly manner.

"Now then, why don't we start? Would you like me to gather seats for you? Beers? Cigars? A bite to eat?"

"No thank you. We won't be staying here for long..." Reiji said in a polite manner as possible. Shu (the eldest) noticed how the tone of his brother's voice changed a bit. For the first time, he felt worried.

"I see..." Mr. Dealer replied. "So, what exactly brings all of you he--"

"WE WANT HER!" An abrupt, straightforward response from Ayato himself. "GIVE HER BACK TO US!"

The club owner shook his floating head.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that. You see, Ms. Yui has signed a contract with me. She will be working for me for quiet sometime."

The vampires couldn't believe what they've heard. She give herself up to this ball of freak?! Most of the brothers were seething. How dare she left them over this monstrosity? Was she not grateful for living with them in the luxurious mansion? Compared to this garbage of a place, they imagine that she will be used and---

"I understand... Losing someone as important as her can be upsetting. She is a kind and compassionate girl." The Dealer said.

Subaru winced at that comment. He knows that is not the only main reason why he and his brothers are after her.

"But I can guarantee you... She will be well taken care of. And besides, she seem to develop quiet a liking towards this club---"

"THAT'S A LIE!" Another interruption from an angry Ayato. 

"How so?" Mr. Dealer asked, staring blankly at the hot headed boy.

Reiji had to step in before his stupid brother say and do something reckless.

"She is a shy and quiet girl who doesn't know what she wants. That is why we find it unbelievable that she is willing to stay here. We want to escort her back to our home."

"Really?" Reiji felt a chill down his spine when those pair of black hollowed eyes stare at him. "Strange... That is not how she reacted when she sees all of you."

Suddenly, one of the brothers moved forward. Shu cannot handle the small talk anymore.

"You want to know the truth?! We are the Sakamaki brothers, the vampire clan who lives from far from here. We need her as our bride to continue our bloodline." Much to Reiji's noticable a annoyance and anxiety, Shu continued, "Our father planned it all. She is supposedly the Eve of our family. So we beg you, to please give her back to us."

Subaru just frowned. He never seen him show any sort of care towards to anyone but himself; even Yui is just piece of blood to him. He doesn't know if he mean this, or just an act to persuade the strange creature.

"Vampires? Ah...that make sense... No wonder she suffers in constant chest pains. That's why I had to have my doctors get rid of that pesky heart of hers."

"You..did what?" 

 "Some wicked soul is attempting to take over her body, and her heart is the main cause. So in order for her to properly work for me, I've recommended her to undergo heart surgery, which she willingly participated."

The brothers were speechless.

"Oh, you all didn't know? And here I am thinking she gets better treatment back in your town." The Dealer chuckled.

"How is she still alive?" One of the brothers questioned.

"We've replaced her old heart with a new improved one."

"What?!"

Mr. Dealer showed a glass container. Inside is Yui's former heart.  The Sakamaki's sense of smell and desire heightened. So this is why they were so drawn to her blood. 

That heart... It originally belonged to Cordelia, the triplets' mother. (Ayato, Kanato, Laito)

"Here, this is all yours." The club owner handed over the heart to Ayato with care.

"I hope this concludes your chase for the girl, yes?"

Ayato and his brothers are stunned. So this explains everything. They've all been thirsting over her because of this heart. The heart of the so called mother they've despised and killed.

As the heart container is now on Ayato's hands, what will be his reaction?

Will he take it or break it?

Here is the link to the Poll

[savannahsdeath]

↳ ❝ [ ALICE IN BORDERLAND AU ] ¡! ❞

୨⎯ e. williams x reader ⎯ ୧

MDNI! you and ellie meet another soul, which brings you hope... but quickly takes it back again

this isn't the best since i'm sick but i was impatient to finish it so enjoy !! next games n chapters should be more interesting 🫡

warnings: mentions of death, acid/poison, pressure and fear

prologue ⋘ chapter one ⋙ chapter two

DAYS ON VISA : 1

the last few hours were a mist of confusion and denial. you and ellie were wandering around the city without much sense nor any plan. all of the walking has drained your energy and you could feel your legs begin to ache with each step. the silent streets offered only a glimpse of reality, yet it was one that made little sense, leaving you both with conflicting feelings of doubt and concern, not sure what to believe or do next. though the silent city seemed to offer no clues as to where everyone had gone, its silence became a disturbing reminder of the reality of the situation, as if to taunt you.

your wandering eventually brought you and ellie to going into building after building, and despite entering each one with the hope of finding someone, they all offered the same eerie result. you could hear nothing inside, aside from the faint echo of your footsteps as you walked through the rooms.

"wait, this one's locked" you began, standing in front of a not big house with its front door firmly shut. you tried pulling on the handle, but found it firmly locked from within. in the midst of all the chaotic disappearance, this was a strange sign of... normalcy? you wondered, if only for a moment.

"maybe they locked themselves inside" ellie suggested. "i mean, who wouldn't, after something like this happened?"

it made sense; the unknown and sudden nature of the emptiness could have easily sent people into a state of panic, desperate to hide away from the unknown and keep themselves safe. the closed house certainly seemed to suggest this possibility, a sign that someone was still here, just locked away from the outside world.

the two of you stood outside the house for a few silent moments, debating what to do next. everything remained empty and still, aside from the sound of your own voices speaking softly in the chilly evening air, and your feet shifting on the cold ground beneath you. you tried pulling on the handle a little harder, but still it did not budge, remaining firmly shut. the absence of any noise made the situation all the more unsettling, as if the house itself was a silent witness to the chaos unfolding around it. your heartbeat picked up speed as you began to contemplate the possibility of breaking down the door, and as if reading your thoughts, ellie reached out to touch your arm, a gesture to remind you to keep your composure and remain collected.

you paused mid-motion, suddenly recognizing the sound of footsteps just outside the door. it didn't take long to realize that someone was indeed in the house, their actions producing the faint echo of footsteps on the floor. the sound was quiet, but distinct, as if whoever was inside was walking slowly and carefully, trying to minimize the noise they made.

you stepped back from the door as the hidden occupant's footsteps stopped. after an uneasy few seconds of silence, you heard the faint sound of a lock clicking, followed by the soft whoosh of a door knob turning. the sound of the door shifting in its frame filled the silence, as it opened slightly, revealing nothing but a crack of darkness on the other side. the vague shape of a shadow behind the door was all you could see, its identity still a mystery.

you remained still, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness behind the door. the faint outline of a human shape remained, albeit without any clear details. a soft breathing drifted out from the door, its subtle yet distinct rhythm hinting at the presence of a person. it was the only sound within the silence, filling you with an uneasy feeling, though nothing compared to the sudden appearance of a whisper. in a quiet, barely audible voice, the person behind the door spoke.

"hello...? is someone there?" the voice drifted softly through the air, its whisper almost sounding like a faint breeze. it was clear that whoever was waiting behind the door was hoping to avoid attracting attention, though their question was a clear sign that they were aware of your presence. the shadows created by the dim interior and the dim exterior light made it impossible to decipher any details about the person speaking.

"yes" you answered, the sound of your voice filling the air to confirm your presence.

you remained still, letting the person behind the door take the lead. with a quiet and subtle creak, you could hear the door slowly inching open to reveal the shadow behind it.

the figure turned out to be a man, his eyes meeting yours in a silent glance as he took in your presence. while he had a look of caution in his eyes, his demeanor seemed calm and reserved, almost apologetic in the way he watched you. he looked to be way older, perhaps in his mid-40s or so, though his worn and overworked appearance made it difficult to pin down his exact age.

"come in" the man said, softly gesturing for you to follow him inside the house. he slowly walked past the door frame, letting his body pass into the darkness of the interior while expecting for you to do the same.

you cautiously looked at ellie, as if to ask her what to do.

"do we have a choice?" she shrugged and encouraged you forwards. "ladies first."

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you stepped past the man into the kitchen, ellie close behind you. the light was dim, yet much brighter than the rest of the house that remained shrouded in darkness. you could see everything more clearly, including the man himself. his appearance was somewhat tired and overworked, though his soft demeanor betrayed no sense of danger. he had not spoken since he led you inside, keeping a respectful distance as he allowed you and ellie to settle into the kitchen.

the man looked at you both, taking in your appearance with an understanding look. "newbies, i'm guessing?" he asked, his soft and calm voice indicating that he was well aware of your confusion and uncertainty. his look of understanding remained unchanged, as if he fully understood your doubt and the situation you found yourselves in. "i'll cut to the chase then" he said, stepping a little closer and speaking in a more clear manner. his demeanor became slightly more serious, as if he was taking on the role of the one in charge of the situation. "do you know what's happening right now?"

"we know that everybody's disappeared" you told him, gesturing the space around with your hands. "everyone. all of these buildings are empty."

the man's expression remained neutral, giving off the impression that he had already known this, and thus was not the least bit surprised by the news. instead, his demeanor conveyed a sense of solemnity and understanding of the gravity of the situation. "yes, that's right." he nodded.

the man began to fill ten shot glasses with water, laying them neatly on the counter top as he talked. one of the cups seemed suspicious, because he carefully took it out from a drawer, already filled. "something big is happening in the world, like nothing i've ever seen. something powerful and unknown, beyond our understanding. i think it's better to focus on what we do know. there's no point in trying to piece it all together, we'll just go crazy. we have to accept it. we can worry about how all this happened later, for now we should think about what needs to be done." the man took the suspicious cup and placed it between the other nine glasses, seemingly making no distinction between it and the remaining cups. he quickly rearranged them, making you unable to remember which one was the different one.

the man suddenly smiled, his whole expression shifting into a more playful and cheerful tone. "well, i guess we're playing a game." he looked at the glasses, which he had now carefully arranged in a pattern where all of them looked the same. he pointed at them with an excited smile on his face, as if to challenge you and ellie.

GAME 1 : 3 of ♦️

- the players may not physically interact with the dealer

- there are 10 shot glasses arranged in a row on the counter. each glass contains water, except for one glass which contains a lethal poison

- the player and the dealer will take turns playing the game. during the player's turn, they have 1 minute to choose one (and only one) of the following two actions; failing to do so results in an immediate game over:

- make the second player drink the contents of the leftmost glass (from the player's perspective) on the counter, and remove that glass from the row

- make the second player drink the contents of the leftmost glass and the second-leftmost glass (from the player's perspective) on the counter, and remove both glasses from the row

- apart from the abovementioned actions, the player may not interact with the glasses and/or their contents in any other way (e.g. the player may not pour away the liquid in the rightmost glass)

- during the dealer's turn, he has 1 minute to choose one (and only one) of the same actions as the player, except he takes glasses from the right from his perspective

- the game begins with the player's turn

- at any point in time, if the dealer drinks the poison, the player receives game clear

- at any point in time, if the player drinks the poison (or breaks the game rules as stated above), both players receive game over

ellie hesitated, the gravity of the man's explanation sinking in as she processed the situation. "you're crazy" she said, looking at him with a mixture of bewilderment and confusion. the man remained nonchalant, seeming unfazed by her words.

you then piped up, asking "what if we don't want to... play?"

the man stepped aside and reached into a drawer, withdrawing two cell phones and pressing one into your hands. as you turned it on, a plain black text revealed: days on visa: 1. you peeked at ellie's but it showed the same thing as yours. he then gave a brief explanation of the visa, which he assured you are the remaining days of your life that will increase everytime you play a game by the difficulty of it.

you both sat in silence, taking in the information. you had thought all the rules of the game had already been revealed, but now you had this new information to take into consideration. you looked at ellie, who shared your bewildered look of confusion as you processed the knowledge that you both only had one day left to live.

"are we supposed to be satisfied with just one day?" she asked, her voice containing a frantic touch of amusement.

you both had a hard time choosing, and the man seemed to be growing impatient with your reluctance to begin the game. after a few more moments of silence, he broke in, seeming ready to make the first move. "i'll go easy on you, i swear, newbies. you go first. choose one or two, just pick something."

"this is three of diamond. if you win the game you get another three days added to your visa" the man explained. he didn't seem to care about the implications of playing a life-or-death game every day in order to simply prolong your life for another 24 hours. he simply expected you and ellie to accept the circumstances and begin the game without question. "it's not like you can choose anyway, but you couldn't have come across a better chance. i mean, it's a simple game, there's really nothing else to say. one of the glasses has acid in it. so choose wisely, play carefully, and good luck." the man ended his brief explanation with a playful smile, as if he was really looking forward to starting the game regardless of your decision.

after a few moments of hesitation, you decided to play it slow and choose one. you carefully picked the first glass between the ten and held it up to ellie's face, waiting for her to take it. her head tilted back and she lifted the glass to her lips, drinking the whole liquid in a single gulp. you watched her, still unsure about the whole game, expecting her to either burst out in pain or scream as the acid burned her throat. instead, she simply set the glass down with a contented sigh.

the man watched your expressions closely, smiling brightly at the sight of your relief. but though her lips were not burnt by the acid, the game was not over yet. he nodded, indicating that he's ready to play.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

you'd made it through eight glasses and each had been safe. the odds may not be in your favor, but you had managed to beat them up until now. finally, you were at the final round of the game, with only two cups remaining. as you realized the dilemma in front of you, you also realized there was only one logical choice: you had to choose one glass, because even if you tried playing two, it wouldn't spare you from death, ellie would still be drinking poison. the only way to avoid it was to pick a single one and hope for the best.

you reached forward and carefully picked a cup, feeling the tension build as you held it out to ellie. she looked at you with a nervous expression, clearly feeling equally stressed about the situation as she prepared to take yet another sip of what potentially could be acid. you held your breath as she lifted the glass to her lips, sipping from it. after a full swig, she lowered the glass without a reaction, just as she had done four times before.

with only one glass remaining and the man's turn, you knew that there was a one hundred percent chance this would be the acid shot. he seemed to understand this as well, smiling cheerfully as he nodded to the glass in front of him. "it's my turn, isn't it?" he chuckled and gave another small laugh as he picked up the glass and raised it, as if to celebrate a victory. "to the remaining two!" he toasted and gave you an understanding smile, as if to reassure you both that the game would end well for you. "you might not want to see this, though."

as the man raised the glass to his lips, his eyes met yours with a serious and focused expression. he did not shy away from your stares, knowing that there was no point in avoiding you the sight of consequences. you could not move from the unbelievable sadness of witnessing a life ending before your eyes, and yet you felt ellie's hand consciously grip your arm, pulling you away from the tragic scene.

✧˖°

game inspired by: HippoOfGreen on reddit

taglist: @ellieswife @coff1nn @abbyily @littlegingerperson2 @marianeski @onlinelesbo @mayagrahh @acatstalkingyou @rayslender @imprettyandpink @sillymelodyy @destructive-path @ellieslutybitch @elliemywife @saxiigami @flowexr @dsybouquet @ellieswifee @stickynachomaker @elliesaesp @elliezlils11utt @pank0w @xiaos-wife1 @machetegirl109 @teawithnosugar @lostwsoo @iove-bbb

[ninothebirb]

WE WERE ONCE ONE

Please read Chapter!1 and Prologue if you haven't already!

Content Warning: Angst, trauma, gn!reader, unhealthy obsession, mention of character deaths, fluff?, major spoilers!

The sound of the doorbell interrupted your and Bailu's quality time. "I'll go get it!" She spoke before you could even react, and rushed over to the door. She opened the door, only to be faced with the one and only General, Jing Yuan.

"Ah miss Bailu, may I ask where the esteemed loner y/n may be?" He asked with that smug smile. The moment you heard his voice, a sudden pain etched itself into your heart- and you stormed off to the door. "Didn't I tell you not to come here?" It wasn't a question, it was an order. You couldn't stand the audacity of him to show his face after what he'd done.

"Miss Bailu- I apologize but...could you perhaps leave us alone for a while?" He spoke so calmly and carried himself so elegantly- yet so highly. A total scumbag. Bailu scooted away, she didn't like interfering in your matters anyways. "Now, before you say anything-" Bang. You closed the door in his face.

But then his stupid muffled voice called out from behind the door. "It's about Dan Feng!" You stopped in your tracks. He could be lying, hell he could be playing with you just to get your attention. But the mention of him just...made you lose all your sense. You slowly opened the door, reluctant to make eye contact with him this time.

"What about him?" You mumbled softly. "Promise me, you'll listen calmly." His tone was a tad bit more stern considering that he was actually serious this time. You let out a sigh, as you prepared yourself for what was to come. Because whenever he was mentioned- it never ended well.

"There was a lord ravager on the loufu, who had smuggled the stellaron." A lord ravager? A lord ravager?! Holy hell. You had been notified about the stellaron before but had no idea that the situation would be going this far. "And...?" You wanted to know more, no- you needed to know more.

Jing Yuan was powerful, having the companionship of the lightning lord- but his strength could never match that of a lord ravager, he must've have had some sort of other external help. "And, she's been defeated, however I doubt she's dead."

"What does all of this- has to do with Dan Feng." You spoke with a straight face. "Phantaylia- the name of our dear lord ravager, had escaped off to scalegorge waterscape...so the dragon palace, has once again been uncovered from the depths of the sea. And you know very well who can do that..." The smile was evident on his face, it was gentle and...a slight twinge of love behind his golden orbs.

You couldn't believe him. This very man who had exiled your lover- was telling you straight up to your face that the imbibitor lunae had returned, Dan Feng had returned. "Y-You're not joking right-? I-I mean- it'd be a very bad joke if you were but- really?" He chuckled in response, there was a certain amount of genuineness and sincerity in his laughter. "I promise, he's back."

Your breathing hitched for a second, time stopped in that very moment and you felt as if all your worries had been washed away by a large wave of joy. "Do you wanna see him?" He asked gently looking deep into your eyes that had started watering up.

"Y-Yeah...I do.."

Jing Yuan loved you more than anything in the world, he felt hurt knowing that his affection was one sided. But your happiness was what mattered to him the most, he would do anything- and I mean anything to see a smile on your face. His hand itched to pull you in arms, hold you warmly, to assure you that no matter how many times you cried- he will always be there.

[justagalwhowrites]

Yearling - Ch. 10: Feral

You come up with a plan to replenish Jackson's supply of horses. A continuation of Yearling ch. 1-9 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: None. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ Only 

Length: 7k 

AO3 | Chapter One | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Late Fall, 2003 

You thought you were 20 years old. 

It was hard to tell. You lost track of time quickly after the outbreak but you thought it was November which means you’d turned 20. It was both hard to believe that it had been more than a month since the world ended but it seemed like it should have been longer than that, too. It felt like forever. 

It had been weeks since you’d talked to another person. Leo had been the last human who wasn’t infected you’d seen and you’d rather deal with infected than him. Winter was getting closer. You could feel it in the air, the threat of snow on the wind and you couldn’t keep going like this. You’d need shelter, both for you and for Nike. 

You’d made it a point to stay off roads and stick to the wilderness. There was less chance of running into people that way, assuming there were any actual people left. You still ran into infected people out there, though. Their shrieking, clawing forms were obvious, even from afar. They weren’t smart like predators, they didn’t prowl or stalk. They just stumbled through the world hoping to run into someone else to attack. It made them easy to pick off, able to sit atop Nike and shoot them, dropping them from so far away that they weren’t even really a threat. 

But now, you would have to try your luck with the roads. You needed to find a place to hole up for the winter and you weren’t going to find that where you were, it was too damn remote. It was a risk, you knew, but the bigger risk was staying out in the elements where you’d freeze to death. One was a sure shot at death, the other was just a really good chance of it. 

So when you came across a road, you made the call.

“Well, at least we’ll go down swingin’,” you scratched Nike’s neck and sighed, guiding her onto the pavement. 

You were on the road for a few hours before you came to a town. You could smell it before you saw it, the air rotten and reeking. You scrunched your nose against it, passing the burned out shell of a humvee as you came up on the gas station and dollar store that marked the edge of whatever tiny place you’d stumbled upon. 

The town was small, maybe four streets. There was a McDonald’s and a small grocery store and then, at the center of town, at the corner with a pharmacy and a delivery pizza place and a dentist’s office, was a pile of bodies. 

It looked like the whole town, dozens of them all rotting and bloated, flies gathered on distended and split bellies. 

“Fuck,” you leaned over the side of Nike and threw up, choking and gagging on the sight and smell. 

Once you were sure you weren’t going to vomit on yourself, you dismounted and took Nike’s bridle, stepping as close as you dared to the decomposing pile. One of the bodies was intact enough that you could see what killed him. A bullet to the head. 

“What the fuck?” You breathed, looking over more of the bodies. The few you could make out had all been shot. “What the fuck?” 

They could all have been infected, of course. But the whole town? All at once? To put in some perverse pile like trash? It didn’t make sense. Something else had happened here. 

“We’re just gonna figure out where the fuck we are and pick a place to go,” you said to Nike as you led her to the pharmacy. 

You pried the doors open and went to the single check out counter, looking for something to tell you where you were. You managed to break open the cash register - not that you bothered holding onto any of the money, the sudden realization that these pieces of paper were inherently valueless barely even registering when compared to the pile of bodies outside - and found the cash bag for the bank. There was a label on the front. “Wilson’s Pharmacy 167 Main St. Davis Junction Wyoming.” 

“Davis Junction,” you said to yourself quietly, frowning. The name was familiar. You recognized it from something but you couldn’t put your finger on what. 

You looked outside to make sure Nike was still tethered to the lamp post and made your way quickly through the store, finding what supplies you could from what had already been looted. There were some canned foods, at least, and some bottled drinks. There were also packs of tampons and some pain killers so you took those, too. You loaded Nike down with everything you could fit into the saddle bags and your pack before going to scratch her forehead. 

“Davis Junction,” you said to her. She chuffed. “Sounds familiar to you, too, then?” She stomped her hooves impatiently. You went to climb on her back again when you remembered where you knew the name of the town. 

This was the place where one of the stupid tourist ranches your ranch sold horses to picked up their clients. There was a tiny airport just outside of town, just big enough for all the rich assholes in their private planes to fly in to dress up and play cowboy for a week or two. The ranch was north of town a good 25 miles, you thought, and off the beaten path. 

If it had turned out like where you’d come from, everyone there would be dead or turned and you’d have the place to yourself. The perfect spot to ride out the winter. 

“Let’s see if we can’t find that place, huh?” You gave Nike a pat and pointed her north, heading to where you hoped you’d find salvation. You didn’t want to come back here if you could help it, not to the rotting flesh and the haunting emptiness of the place. 

It took you the better part of two days to find the ranch, relying on the hazy memory you had of bringing horses you’d broken over in the fall of 2002 to turn down different dirt roads that weren’t labeled and seemed to lead into the wilderness. 

But eventually, you found it. You were right, the place was abandoned. You went room by room through the bunk house and the main house and the barn - the horses that had been housed there long gone. There was plenty of tack left, though. Feed, too. If you could keep pests out of it, there was enough to last Nike all winter. 

The trick would be getting you through it all. 

“At least you’re covered,” you sighed, scratching Nike’s neck. She chuffed. “You’re the better of us, anyway.” 

Your first winter on your own was rough. 

You’d never cooked for yourself before. You’d gone straight from living with your parents to living in the bunkhouse where all the meals were provided for you. You’d made mac and cheese for yourself a few times and knew how long to toast a Pop Tart but that was about the extent of it. 

Now, you didn’t have the luxury of a stove or oven or even a grocery store. There were some canned things left behind but you wanted to stretch it, so you started hunting.

You’d hunted with your dad and brothers as a girl but had never dressed an animal, so you took a guess. You also took a guess at how to cook the damn thing, assuming it was safe to eat once the outside was charred black. 

You were wrong. 

You gave yourself food poisoning six times that winter, thought you were dying at least twice. You damn near froze to death in the bunk house before you decided to check out a cluster of cabins for the tourists that you’d passed several times on your hunts but never actually gone into. Sometime about halfway through the winter, you moved you and Nike into them. They were smaller so they warmed up easier and they had working fireplaces. 

Things got a bit easier after that. 

Winter was still hard. You lost weight that you couldn’t really afford to lose and supplies from the ranch were diminished but you’d survived with Nike. By spring, you had a reasonable set up going. 

The books in the tourist cabins - put there for some kind of aesthetic set dressing you were sure - were oddly helpful. Information on hunting and trapping and foraging in the old west was abundant if not necessarily thorough. It was enough that you thought you could live there for a while without needing to risk finding a town where you might run into another person. 

It was in this newly comfortable period that you were out on Nike, further from home than you usually ventured, exploring more than anything else, when you saw them. A whole herd of wild horses, dozens of them, running free.

You weren’t sure how long you watched them. They clearly hadn’t seen people in a while, paying you and Nike no mind as they went about their business grazing and running. You scratched Nike’s neck. 

“All my eggs are in one horse sized basket with you, aren’t they?” You said. 

Many of your traps were too far away to reasonably walk to check them regularly. You were too far from any towns to make it on foot and back in a day, especially hauling anything back with you. You wouldn’t last long without a horse and you had one. If she broke a bone, escaped, got shot in an attack, you’d be fucked. 

You leaned forward on the saddle, watching the horses.

“How about we get you a sister?”

June, 2026

Joel was next to you, close enough that your arm brushed his. 

It was about the only thing keeping you from snapping into a full blown panic. You were wearing the shirt again but the smell was already fading. Having Joel close enough that you could feel him there was helping keep you grounded. 

“Clearly our current patrol schedule and pattern was lacking,” Warren, an ex-Army officer who coordinated the patrols, was saying. “We absolutely cannot cut back, not now. Not if we expect to stay safe.” 

“Our resources are limited,” Maria sighed. “We only have so many horses…” 

“We have the foals,” Warren said. “How long ‘fore they’re trained?” 

“Now is as good a time as any to hear from the stables,” Maria sighed, her eyes finding you pressed against the back wall, your nails digging into the wood paneling until it hurt. 

You froze for a moment, chest tight. 

“You can do this,” Joel said gently. You glanced up at him. He gave you a small smile. “I’ll be right here. You’re OK.” 

You hadn’t really wanted to come to this council meeting at all. Tommy got Joel to talk you into it. Consciously, you knew you needed to be there. The whole purpose of the meeting was to discuss how to handle patrols after the attack now that you were down almost half a dozen animals. You needed to be there. 

But you knew the whole town would be crammed into one room, that emotions would be high, and that you’d probably need to talk in front of everyone. You’d never been one for public speaking, not even before. Now? It seemed like hell. 

But you had to do it. 

You took a deep, shaky breath and crossed your arms over your front before you spoke up. 

“We got…” 

“Can you step forward?” Maria cut you off. “We’re having a hard time hearing you from back there.” 

You clenched your jaw. 

“I’ll go with you,” Joel said quietly. “I’ll watch your back, you’re OK.” 

You pushed yourself off the back wall and walked up the middle aisle of the chairs packed into the meeting hall, Joel close enough behind you that you could feel him there. You kept your eyes on Maria. You liked Maria. She was safe. You stopped in front of the council, Joel close behind, the weight of every eye in the room heavy on you. 

“We got three foals right now but they’re yearlings,” you said, arms crossed, eyes on Maria. “They’re too new to break yet, can’t start workin’ with them until next year. We can try to foal some more, but it’ll take a year before they’re here and two more before we can start to work with ‘em. Add another two months to break ‘em, so three and a half years…” 

“So you’re saying we’re fucked,” Warren said. 

You looked at him, brows drawn together. 

“That ain’t what I said at all,” you replied. “There’s…” 

“Sounds like that’s what you’re saying,” he cut you off before turning back to the council. You clenched your jaw, fingers digging into your biceps. “What we really need…” 

“What you really need to do is shut the fuck up and let her finish talkin’,” Joel growled over him. “This ain’t your area of expertise.” 

Joel had stepped closer to you, at your shoulder now. You glanced up at him and he gave you a nod. 

“What I was saying,” you said, glaring at Warren before looking back to Maria. “There’s another option.” 

“Which is?” She asked. 

“We catch horses instead of breeding them,” you said. The room went almost eerily quiet, none of the soft side conversations still happening. 

“We’ve never tried to catch and break wild horses before,” another council member, Anthony, frowned. “Seems like a big risk…” 

“It’s not,” you said, all but forgetting the room full of people. “I’ve done it before, there are herds of feral horses I think about 40 miles north of here. Getting them back here will take some doing but send enough people and we can do it. Breaking a feral horse is a bit more work than one you foaled yourself but it’s perfectly doable. We send a group up to capture a few, bring them back here. I can get them all to dumb broke and then divide up the rest of the work, Olivia can handle some, Simon, too. In four months, give or take, we can get back to full capacity.” 

“And you’re confident you can do this,” Maria asked, brows raised. 

“Did it before without help,” you shrugged. “Shouldn’t be a problem now.” 

“Then we’ll send a group to find horses next week,” she said. “Warren, in the mean time, find a way for us to cover the immediate area at least partially on foot, get us through until we’re back up to our normal supply of horses.” 

You stayed put as the meeting hall emptied, leaning against Joel as it did. After a moment, his hand went to your lower back and you relaxed into him. You wanted some breathing room before trying to make your way back home, not up for the press of people as they filtered onto the street and went their separate ways. 

“Thanks,” you said, glancing up at him. “Hate fuckin’ talking in front of people…” 

“Warren’s a jackass when he decides he’s right about somethin’,” Joel said. “Can’t tell when to shut the fuck up for the life of ‘em.” 

“Wonder what that’s like,” you smirked a little and caught Joel rolling his eyes when you looked up at him. 

“Let’s get you home before you find a way to cause more trouble,” he muttered. 

“When do I cause trouble?” You turned to look at him directly, eyes wide. He smiled. 

“You stole a horse the first day you were here,” he nudged you toward the door. “So we’ll start there, work our way through the last eight months…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you elbowed him in the side, the room quieter and empty now. 

You always walked slowly when you walked home with Joel. Sometime in the past few weeks, the balance of something had tipped and you liked it more when you were next to him than when you were by yourself. You were spending more and more time with him as a result, half waiting for him to ask for space from you after you hung around so much. He hadn’t yet. 

“So this horse mission…” he trailed off, hands in his pockets. 

“Yeah?” You looked over to him. 

“Sounds…” he paused, quirking his jaw but not looking at you. “Sounds like it might be dangerous.” 

“Not exactly safe,” you shrugged. “But if you’re not a dumbass about it, no more dangerous than going on patrol.” 

“Not gonna get yourself killed because Warren’s too stubborn to figure out a new way to handle patrols, are you?” He asked, finally looking at you, his eyebrows knitted together. “Because if it’s too dangerous…” 

“I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I used to do this,” you smiled a little at him. “Took and broke probably three dozen horses after the outbreak, I can do it. Getting them all the way back here will be a struggle, though.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“You doubtin’ me?” You asked, half teasing but half not. It surprised you but you cared that he had faith in your skills. You needed him to think that you were capable, competent. Needed him to understand that you weren’t some useless thing shadowing him through the world. 

“Bambi, couldn’t pay me enough to doubt your skills with horses,” he smiled a little. “Just don’t want you puttin’ yourself in harm’s way. It’s not worth it.” 

“Will you come with me?” You asked. “To get the horses I mean.” 

He scoffed. 

“Good luck getting me to stay behind.” 

You smiled a little at that. 

“Is where we’re headed…” he trailed off, looking at his feet. “You sounded familiar with it. You been there recently?” 

You nodded slowly, your stomach clenching. 

“Been a few years but…” you shrugged, trying not to think of the place you left behind. Of what you would do to go back to what it was before. “The horses will be there. That’s the important thing.” 

Even with the slow pace, you reach your house eventually. Both your footsteps slow up your walk until you’re at your door. You cross your arms over your body and bite your lip, staring at Joel’s chest for a second before you work up the nerve to speak. 

“Can I ask a favor?” You couldn’t look him in the eye. 

“Course Bambi,” you could hear the frown in his voice. “What d’you need?” 

“I really love the shirt,” you said, gripping the cuffs a little tighter, nails digging into your palm through the cotton. “But… I think I’ve been wearin’ it too much and it doesn’t…” 

“Want another one?” He cut off your rambling and you were actually able to meet his gaze then. He was smiling a little, his eyes crinkled and warm and soft and you had the strangest urge to reach up and touch his face. You squeezed your biceps instead and nodded quickly. “I’ll give you another in a day or two. Don’t want you stuck with somethin’ that’s just sweaty…” 

“Thank you,” you leaned forward and pressed your forehead into his chest, breathing him in. You didn’t fully realize you were doing it until you were touching him - not that you had to go far to do it, you found yourself standing closer and closer to Joel all the time anymore - but you were relieved the second your body made contact with his. There was a relief in touching him. It sank into you, loosening your neck and your shoulders and your arms and your stomach until you had relaxed into him. He delicately put his arms around you, enveloping you in him. But you didn’t feel trapped or caged by it. Instead, you welcomed it, felt secure in it. Your arms slowly, cautiously, went around his waist, your hands splaying wide over his back to press his body closer. His chin came to rest on the top of your head and you could feel the life of him there against you, his breaths and his heartbeat and his heat. You held each other for a few minutes before you started to pull back from him. Not because you wanted to but because, if you didn’t, you weren’t sure what would come next. 

“See you tomorrow?” You asked, your hands shoved in your back pockets. It was safer to have them there, they weren’t at risk of doing something stupid there. 

“See you tomorrow.” 

***

Joel wasn’t thrilled with the people coming on the mission to collect horses. 

There were 12 people including him and you but Tommy was staying behind to help bolster the remaining patrols and protect the town over the few days you’d all be gone. 

Joel didn’t like it. 

There weren’t many people in Jackson he felt he could trust to really do what was necessary in situations like this one. 

Not that he didn’t generally trust the people there. He did. They were good men and women - even if Simon seemed to be begging to get laid out and Warren was a self righteous jackass. He had his issues with some of them, certainly, but they were all good people. People he was lucky to be around, given his checkered past. 

But they weren’t always the most capable. 

And, after the attack on the patrols, it felt like, when they left the town, they did it with a target on their backs.

This run was going to be even riskier than normal. 

The group would be heading far outside the usual bounds of patrols, be in greater danger returning as you guided half a dozen feral horses back across miles of open country. 

And you were helping to coordinate it all. 

Warren insisted on running point which was fine by Joel because it meant that he could stick close to you, try to force you to stick closer to the middle of the pack where you’d be less likely to be hit first by raiders or infected. 

Joel tried to not think about why he was so desperate to protect you, the flavor of the muscle-clenching fear akin to what he felt when he traveled with Ellie. You’d become woven into his life now. It hadn’t been what he’d intended when bringing you to Jackson, though he should have realized the risk of it from the first time he laid eyes on you. But you had quickly become the thing he looked forward to most every day. 

He’d work with Tommy on a construction project and find himself counting down to when he could go find you at the stable and walk to the mess hall for dinner. On days you weren’t working, he opened a window and waited for the squeak on the bottom step of his front porch - a squeak he hadn’t fixed in part because it meant he knew you were there to play guitar a second sooner. 

The one upside to this harebrained mission was the fact that he’d get to be next to you for days straight. Two days before everyone left, you were dragging your feet on the walk back to your place after movie night. Your arms were crossed over your chest, the sleeves of the shirt Joel had given you a few days earlier rolled up to your elbows, the bottom of it tied around your waist. Your lower lip was between your teeth as you looked at the ground, kicking clusters of dirt in the street with your boot as you walked. 

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind or are you just plannin’ to chew your lip off?” Joel asked lightly. 

“I wanna ask you somethin’ but I don’t want you feeling like you’re obligated to say yes,” you glanced up at him. 

“Ask me.” 

“Joel…” You sighed and trailed off. 

“Try me, Bambi.” 

You looked up at him. 

“I haven’t needed to sleep near other people in… a while,” you looked back toward your feet. “I’m not sure… I don’t know how that’s going to go. You’re the only person I trust enough to sleep next to and I was hoping that, if you’re OK with it, when we go out…” 

“Course, Sweetheart,” he smiled a little. “I was gonna try and stick close to you anyhow.” 

“Yeah?” You glanced over at him. 

“Yeah,” he smiled a little. “Warren fuckin’ snores.” 

The journey so far had been mercifully quiet, though you were tense. Joel could sense it on you, see it in the way you sat on your horse and the way you tried to subtly press your nose into the collar of the shirt he’d given you. But you kept looking out at the horizon, like you were waiting for something to come for you. 

Joel was relieved when Warren announced that they were nearing the stopping point for the night. Like he could relax a bit once a watch schedule was set and he didn’t feel like he’d need to look for a threat from every angle to keep you alive. 

You stuck close to him all evening, sitting near enough to him during dinner that your arm brushed his when you moved. 

“Here,” Joel held a flask out to you as everyone started going their separate ways, spreading out sleeping bags as stars appeared overhead. You raised your eyebrows at him. “If you want. Might help you sleep.” 

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him. Your fingers brushed his and he tried to ignore what the feeling of your skin on his did to him. You took a drink. “You were smart, bringing this along.” 

Joel shrugged. 

“Been a while since I was sleeping rough. Thought it might help.” 

You nodded, taking another drink.

“Was that when you were traveling with Ellie?” You asked, handing the flask back to him. He took a drink, even though he didn’t even really want one. He just wanted his lips to touch where yours had been. He put the flask away. 

“That was a long stretch of it, yeah,” he smiled a little. It was almost strange, remembering that time fondly. They’d spent a lot of time trying to not get fucking killed. But she’d been with him, reading her damn puns and asking every question under the sun and calling him an old man. He’d give anything to do that with her again. “Didn’t seem so bad then.”

The two of you spread your sleeping bags out on the ground, a bit away from the next cluster of people. Far enough that it was almost like you had privacy. 

“What happened with you two?” You asked, sitting on your sleeping bag and looping your arms around your knees. 

“She hasn’t told you?” He asked, sitting on his own sleeping bag. It was funny, you felt oddly far away now even though, just a few weeks ago, he’d have been amazed at how close you were. 

“No,” you shook your head. “Tells me to ask you. Figured if you wanted me to know you’d tell me sometime but…” You shrugged. “Seemed like a good enough time to ask.” 

Joel nodded, trying to come up with a way to phrase it right. 

“We were in… a situation,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “My options were real limited and her life was on the line. I did what I had to do to get her out alive. She disagrees.” 

You nodded slowly, processing. 

“I’m guessing you had to hurt a lot of people to get her out of it,” you said, watching him carefully. 

“Not exactly proud of it but,” he shrugged. “I’d do it the same way all over again if given the chance. It was the only choice that made sense. What was the point of all that if it just ended in her dyin’? All the hell we went through to make it this fuckin’ far, the people who died on the way… I did what any parent would do. I saved my kid. She can hate me for it if she wants, that’s fine. At least she’s alive to do it.” 

You just nodded for a second, still watching him. For a moment, he wondered if you saw him for the monster he knew he was below the surface. If the shadow of the worst of him would scare you off. 

“She’ll understand one day,” you said after a moment. “Once she’s older, she’ll get it. If she’s ever a parent. She’ll understand.” 

Joel just looked at you for a moment, the moonlight casting you in silhouette, the curve of you soft and inviting. 

He lay down instead of touching you. 

“Joel?” You said quietly after a few minutes. 

“Hm?” 

“Would it be OK if I moved closer?” 

His heart beat faster. 

“Course.” 

He watched out of the corner of his eye as you adjusted in your sleeping bag until you were inches - not feet - away. 

“Feel free to shove me back if I snore,” you said, teasing a little. 

He laughed. 

“Sure, Bambi.” 

Joel woke up before you, the soft heat of you against him. You’d moved even closer to him in your sleep, your body loosely curled against his, your face against his chest. He could feel you breathing, your face relaxed in the early morning light. 

For a moment, he froze. Was it right to enjoy this? A closeness you hadn’t intended but had happened anyway? He wasn’t sure. But you were peaceful, looking calmer and more at ease than he’d ever really seen before, the edge of your lips curved into a small smile. 

Fuck, he wanted to kiss you. Wanted to knot his fingers in your hair and pull you close and taste you. 

“Bambi, sweetheart,” he said quietly instead, delicately reaching out and tucking the hair that had come loose from your braid behind your ear, his callused fingertips brushing against your skin and fuck you were soft. You were so fucking soft how were you that fucking soft? 

Your face scrunched, eyebrows knitting together over your still closed eyes. You groaned a little and nestled closer to him. Joel’s breath hitched and let his hand fall gently, delicately, to your cheek. You sighed contentedly. 

He could have stayed like that forever. Lay there, touching you, feeling you close and safe, and never grown tired of it. But he heard the sounds of others starting to stir for the day and doubted that you’d want anyone to see the two of you like this. 

“Bambi,” he said again, voice still soft. “Time to start wakin’ up…” 

You stretched a little and yawned before you opened your eyes and jumped a little, your gaze tracing over Joel’s face for a moment. 

“Sorry,” you yawned, voice scratchy with sleep. He took his hand back. “Wasn’t tryin’ to invade your space…” 

“S’OK.” It was more than OK. So much more than OK. Your eyes trailed down between the two of you, where your bodies touched, before going back to his face. 

“You’re warm.” 

“Been told that.” 

You smiled a little before rolling onto your back and putting more distance between you than Joel ever really wanted there to be. 

He sighed. He desperately needed to get his shit together with you. 

That’s all he could really think about as the group rode the last few hours to where you thought the horses would be. About how he couldn’t let the feelings he had for you take over. It wasn’t fair to you to let them take over. You trusted him, trusted him to not do the monstrous things other men did. You could hardly stand to be in the same room as other people but, for some reason, you’d accepted that Joel was safe. How safe could he really be if he thought about touching you, undressing you, being inside you when you’d made it clear that wasn’t what you wanted? 

Joel was relieved when the group found the horses. It would, at the very least, force him to think about something besides how he shouldn’t want you for a while. 

The animals had clearly not been near people for a long time, none of them so much as stirring at your arrival. There were dozens of them, grazing and casually romping in the shallow hills. It was an oddly idyllic scene, like something from a postcard or National Geographic, the world returning to its natural state now that humans had retreated from their position of power over all things.

“Maybe this’ll be easy,” Warren said as you and Joel rode up alongside him, looking out at the herd of animals

“They’ll take off once we start comin’ for ‘em,” you said, getting the rope from your saddle and slinging bundles of it over your shoulder. “We just need to keep herding them in the right direction until we got what we came for. Try to get younger ones, mares if you can. We still have a few stallions and we can keep numbers up if we foal them ourselves but we need enough mares for that to work.” 

“Right,” Warren clenched his jaw, clearly uncomfortable needing to default to your command. You didn’t seem to notice. 

“If you have trouble actually ropin’ ‘em, just focus on herding,” you said. “I can get them all eventually if we can keep them in this area and they don’t take off too far.” 

“I can do it,” he said, defensive. 

You shrugged. 

“Feral horses are different animals. Don’t feel bad if you can’t.” 

Joel tried not to laugh, Warren looking like he wanted to burst with the indignity of it all. The man wasn’t comfortable not being the best, not being in the lead. You, it seemed, were fine running things, confident enough in what you knew to not need to posture to prove it.  

“My group will go in from the east and the north,” you said, still unbothered. “You handle west and south.” 

The group split in half, you leading one side and Warren the other. You closed your eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and opened them again. 

“Let’s catch us some horses.” 

The system you’d devised may not have been ideal, but it worked. You were right, the horses did start moving once the group got close enough, but you found channels between them, guiding Renaissance with your body as your hands were occupied trying to get a rope around a horse. 

It took you three tries to get the lasso around the first one and you pulled it away from the rest, quickly passing the rope off to Jonathan, one of the men who’d come along for this mission. He started leading it away and you slung another rope off your arm, going for the next one. 

“Got one!” You yelled, loud enough that your voice would carry even over the thunder of hooves. “Push em’ east!” 

Joel could have watched you run horses down all day. Of course, he could have watched you do almost anything all day. But this was your element, on the back of an animal you’d worked with so much that she could anticipate your movements and you hers, bringing wild creatures to heel with your power. He was in awe of you, had to remember to play his part and not just get lost in watching you. 

You ended up taking five of the six horses Jackson needed, Warren taking the last one and looking none too pleased about his relatively lacking contribution. The horses were all tethered to trees about a quarter mile from where they’d been captured and you started working with them immediately, ingratiating yourself to them with apples and grain and water. By the end of the day, you’d gotten them to the point that they wouldn’t rear back when you approached and you’d started bringing other humans close to them with you, tying the idea of easy food to every new person they met. Joel watched in wonder when you reached a hand out for the calmest of them, like an offering. It smelled your palm and stomped its feet, huffing, before pressing its nose against your skin. 

“There we go,” you smiled, voice soft and gentle, cradling the horse’s large head in the palm of your hand. “See? I know it don’t seem like it now, but I’m a friend. I’ll take care of you, give you a good life. Promise.” 

By the time the new horses were settled enough to even consider moving them it was too late to start heading back to Jackson. You settled your sleeping bag near Joel’s again, but further than the night before. There was a distant look on your face, like you were somewhere else entirely. 

“You alright?” He asked as the two of you went to lie down for the night. 

“Fine,” you said quickly, almost too quickly. 

He frowned. You should be happy. The plan had worked, you’d successfully captured enough horses to make it that Jackson wasn’t short handed. No one had gotten hurt. You had a lot to be proud of. But you weren’t.

“Bambi…” 

“Said I’m fine, Joel.” 

He didn’t believe you when he fell asleep. He definitely didn’t believe you when he woke up, the night still dark and cold, and found your sleeping bag empty. 

He sat up quickly, looking around. Even with a bright moon it was dark and you were nowhere to be seen. 

“Bambi?” He said quietly, not really expecting a response but still feeling the thrill of panic clutch his chest when you didn’t reply. “Shit…” 

He got up, his back aching after a few hours on the ground. 

You might be with the new horses. But something told him he wouldn’t find you there. 

Instead, he went for where the horses that had come from Jackson had been put for the night and there you were, untying Renaissance from the tree she’d been tethered to, talking to her all low and calm. 

“Didn’t take you for the type to sneak off in the night,” he said, making you jump. He turned his flashlight on. 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you spun to face him, clutching your chest. “Scared the shit out of me.” 

“Where are you going.” 

“Joel…” 

“Where are you going, Bambi?” 

You were quiet for moment, not looking at him. 

“I was gonna be back by morning,” you said quietly. 

“Were you?” He asked. “You’re not a prisoner in Jackson, you really wanna leave that bad, you can just go. We wouldn’t stop you.” 

His chest hurt to say it, to think of you leaving. To think that you felt like you needed to slip away under the cover of darkness, not even saying goodbye.

“I know.” 

“Then what the fuck are you doin’?” His throat was tight. “Takin’ off in the middle of the fuckin’ night, not tellin’ me where you’re goin’…” 

“I lived near here.” 

Joel was quiet. You were looking at him now, eyes wide and open and honest. Pleading. 

“I lived near here,” you said again. “And… It’s been a few years but… I wasn’t sure if there… I left… I thought I could see if there was any sign of… See if they didn’t take everything when they took me and…” 

“How far.” 

“What?” 

“How far,” Joel asked again, going for his own horse. “Not goin’ out there on your own. How far is it?” 

“Only about five miles,” you said after a moment. “Joel…” 

“You really think I wouldn’t give you what you asked for if you just asked for it?” He asked. You were silent. He got on his horse. “C’mon. If we’re gonna be back by morning we gotta get moving.” 

You nodded quickly, climbing on Renaissance and leading the way. 

The ride didn’t take all that long. With just the two of you, you made it in about an hour to a patch of cleared forest that took Joel a moment to realize used to have buildings. 

“What’d they do?” You breathed, dismounting with your flashlight tight in your grip. Joel got down, too, staying close behind you as you looked around the ruins of what had once been your home. 

He could see now that there had been a few small structures here, now nothing but charred piles that had become overgrown with ferns and ivy. It had all burned and not recently.

You walked carefully, delicately through it, looking for something but there was almost nothing to find. It was gone. You made it to the middle of one of the structures and looked over the ground, shining the flashlight everywhere you could reach, picking through the burned piles on the ground, but there was nothing but dirt and ash. 

You fell to your knees and let out a single strangled, choking sob, the sound ripping out from deep inside you. 

“Bambi…” 

He knelt beside you and slowly, cautiously, put his hand in the middle of your back. 

“I didn’t think I’d be able to find…” you were crying, your voice wet. “But I thought… maybe something… I didn’t…” 

You dropped your head to Joel’s shoulder and pressed yourself against his side, your whole body shaking. He held onto you and let you cry there against him until his shirt was soaked and your breaths were steady. 

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart,” he said, running a hand from the crown of your head down your spine. 

“Should have known better,” you said bitterly. “I know what they’re like, what they take.” 

He wanted to ask but fought the urge, instead keeping his hands on you. 

“Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s go home.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: Bambi is just out here, hugging Joel, sleeping next to Joel, causally touching Joel.

Guys, I think she might... like Joel? 👀👀👀

Crazy, I know!

I do still have a taglist and fully intend on setting up a notifications blog this weekend. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please comment below!

Thank you so much for being here! I know this story is the slowest of slow burns and I PROMISE it will get smutty eventually. And it's coming up! But I don't want to rush it and I so appreciate you being along for the ride. Telling this story wouldn't be the same without you and I love you all so, so much ❤️❤️

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[morning-star-joy]

there it is again, that funny feeling

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 4

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: Joel leaves after your one-night stand, and you readjust to life returning to normal in Jackson. That is, until he returns a few months later and screws it all up again.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Descriptions of Depression/PTSD, Inferred Loss of Family Member (Reader), Very Brief Mention of Masturbation (f), Brief References to Previous Smut (Degradation and Praise Mentions), Language

Wordcount: 9.4k

chapter 1 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || masterlist

ao3 link

Months passed. 

Winter turned to spring, and life in Jackson fell back into its comforting monotony.

You returned to your usual routine; patrolling with Tommy, passing time with Dina. Being with them helped the pervasive ache of loneliness as much as it could, but that hollow place carved into your chest was still there; familiar in its weight, and almost a reassurance in a strange, twisted way, even as it dragged you down. Some days were harder than others, but either you were too stubborn, or you had survived for too long to let it drag you along in its merciless claws.

There were names for the monster that lived in the recesses in your mind, names that you knew. Tommy had urged you to see a doctor in the Fireflies before you left—the kind that used to get paid back before the world ended to tell you everything wrong with you as you laid back on a couch, rehashing your trauma for the fifth time in an hour. At least, that was according to what your father once said about them.

Experience told you that he wasn’t too far off with his blunt description, judging from your few visits to that therapist in the Fireflies. Or his judgment wouldn’t have been too far off, if you had actually talked to the doctor. You knew the therapist had access to your record, that they knew exactly what happened, what the reason was for you being there. Because of that, you didn’t really see the point of telling them yourself.

A few hours were spent with blank staring and prodding questions that got that therapist nowhere. Even if you did want their help—which a small part of you did, at least for Tommy’s peace of mind—you had lost faith in that allusive “light in the darkness” the Fireflies claimed to be.

If you had ever believed it in the first place.

You remembered the terms the therapist had thrown at you, labels that they hoped might stick to explain your symptoms and the cause of them; depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder. You appreciated the explanations of the illnesses more than the poking and prodding, the attempts to get you to talk about your feelings. 

They had offered a bottle of medication—antidepressants, they called them—to help with your symptoms.

You took it, and left with Tommy the next day.

The medication helped with the worst of your symptoms; the unpredictable panic attacks, the flashbacks that came without warning at a sudden sharp noise. Tommy made sure to always have some available for you, even if it meant going out of his way to do so. 

You could get by without it for some stretches of time, but every now and then a bad episode would hit, and you would go back to taking them. If nothing else, it helped ease that heaviness of the hole in your heart, even if just slightly.

Winter was always the hardest, with the harsh reality of death everywhere you looked. Spring brought with it a breath of fresh air, to your mind as well as your lungs. You shed the heavy jacket in favor of a few layers, appreciating the sweet scent of blooming flowers carried on the breeze whenever you stepped foot outside.

You leaned back in the chair on your porch this morning, stretched legs crossing at the ankles as you took another sip of your coffee. Since a few months ago, your supply of coffee had been critically low, and you hadn’t indulged in the caffeine until you were able to replenish your personal stock in recent weeks.

The mug turns with the motion of your hand, your thumb brushing against the ridges of the moose engraving. You pause for a moment, your mind bringing forth a memory you hadn’t thought of in a while.

Memories of Joel Miller had faded along with the chill of winter. There was no reason to fixate on a man you had known for all of one day, a man who you didn’t even know if you would ever see again. The flow of time and the transition of the seasons washed away all thoughts of him, those moments with him that were harder to forget left in your past, a brief scene from the history of your life that nobody knew about except for you. Forgotten, the way that you preferred it to be. 

Until you were sitting here now, drinking coffee for the first time in months, the mug he had held in your hands. Suddenly you could remember Joel in vivid detail; the coarse touch of his hands, the clean scent of his freshly washed hair, the sweet release he had given you not once, but twice.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat as you hid your blushing face behind another sip of coffee. While you hadn’t given the moment much more than a second thought, the subconscious of your mind didn’t let it go as easily. 

It was embarrassing, the amount of times you had woken up from a dream that replayed the brief moment of indulgence you shared with Joel in your kitchen. The amount of times you had tucked your hand beneath your weight, unsatisfied until you could bring yourself to another release that was paltry in comparison to those he had given you.

Your cheeks flushed whenever you awoke fully, shaking the tantalizing memories away in favor of getting ready for your day. Most of those mornings, you ignored the sight of your kitchen as you went to mooch breakfast off of Tommy and Maria instead of making your own.

Tommy was worried. He hid it well, but you knew better, as did Maria. As time went on, he got more restless, distracting himself in preparing for the baby on the way. With Maria farther along, the couple couldn’t hide the pregnancy from the town anymore, but the news had been accepted with excitement and joy. You were sure it helped with morale; a new baby on the way in Jackson, and from the couple that had become pillars of the community.

Any anxiety Tommy displayed in private could easily be explained away as part of Maria’s advancing pregnancy, but the three of you knew the truth, even though nobody dared to say it out loud. No direct mention of Joel ever occurred, and you all pretended that everything was fine, at least for Maria’s sake if nothing else. You knew how she felt about Joel and his history.

You never really understood her opinion on that matter. Tommy was as much of an adult as Joel was when the Outbreak occurred. He made those choices, just as Joel did. Even before that, Tommy was an army vet. His hands were never completely clean of blood. Guilt didn’t discriminate because of ideals; killing in the name of a cause was still murder, a fact you knew well, your own hands too scarred and stained to say otherwise.

Another sip of your coffee brought you out of your thoughts, the bittersweet taste waking you up further. It was still early, your habits of waking up near dawn not shaking off even in the transition to spring. More settlers were awake in the early morning around this time of year, and you nodded amiable greetings to the ones who ambled past your house in the light of dawn. 

As you finished off your coffee before going about your day, you spared one last thought towards Joel Miller, and the girl who had traveled with him. You hoped he was still alive for her sake, if not just for Tommy’s.

“Five to five,” you say triumphantly, resting the butt of your rifle on the ground and using it to push yourself to your feet. Tommy scoffs behind you as you send him a self-satisfied smirk and add, “Count your days, old man.”

“You got lucky,” he teased back, but the worry lines that creased between his brow told you his heart wasn’t in it.

A soft sigh escaped you as you swung your rifle strap over your shoulder, watching as Tommy looked over his own rifle before doing the same. His mind was miles away today, making it hard for you to be playfully arrogant about tying with him in your usual contest of who could get more Infected kills.

You walked back through the trees to where you had hitched your horses, casting concerned sideways glances towards your melancholic friend. His silence wasn’t unusual lately, but you had grown to depend on his good natured attitude, so his pensiveness unnerved you.

“Is Maria’s morning sickness getting better?” you asked, attempting a conversation as you reached your horses. You gave your horse a few gentle pats before unhitching them from the tree and mounting. Maybe Maria’s pregnancy symptoms were what was bugging him, though you had an inkling towards the real cause of his mood.

“Hm?” Tommy glanced up at the sound of your voice, processing your question as he mounted his own horse. “Oh, yeah, she’s fine. Doc says there’s nothing to worry about.”

You nodded, watching as the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease even as you started your trip back to Jackson.

Affection makes you weak. It was an indisputable fact you had accepted long ago. You were too bitter, too broken and despondent to believe otherwise. Affection meant either you died, or if you were unlucky, then you were cursed to live long enough to watch the ones you cared about die.

This fact didn’t stop you from caring. It didn’t stop you from being fond of Tommy or Dina, even though you knew better. Even though you knew that that vulnerability might as well be your eventual downfall.

At least you could accept that your role in life was to keep the both of them safe for as long as you were alive to care. And if there really was a god, you would die for them before they died for you.

“Tommy,” you hedged, shifting in your saddle as you tried to figure out how best to broach the topic. “Do you want to talk about—”

“No,” he cut off quickly, his voice hard, adamant in his refusal to ever entertain that line of conversation; the line that led to the unknown fate of whatever might have befallen his brother.

A small nod was the only response you gave, laying the topic to rest as you made the remainder of your short return journey in silence.

Chirps of songbirds that nested amongst the emerald leaves growing back on trees were soon drowned out by the rushing of waterfalls, and a thud echoed as your horse jumped down from one ledge to another. You and Tommy cut through an abandoned gas station that had been mercilessly reclaimed by nature, its building crumbling under the deceptive beauty of ivy. Soon you emerged from the thick trees, winding up on the clear beaten path back to the gates of Jackson.

Tommy was still far away, his thoughts with wherever his brother had ended up. Once you were safely through the gates you sighed, slipping out of your saddle so you could stretch your legs and lead your animal companion back to the stables by the reins.

You opened your mouth to say something to Tommy, to try and bring his wandering mind back to the present somehow, when you were interrupted by a shout of his name from down the street.

A glance towards the noise revealed one of your fellow patrolmen, Bonnie, jogging past some curious residents to meet the two of you at the gate. You tensed, the pessimism you had learned from a hard life of survival bracing you for the bad news you expected her to deliver.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked as he swiftly dismounted his horse, meeting Bonnie as she stopped in front of him. “Did something happen on your patrol? Is it Maria?”

The increasing panic in Tommy’s voice set you even more on edge. You eyed Bonnie warily as she struggled to catch her breath from running to meet him.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Bonnie straightened from where she had placed her hands on her knees to try and catch her breath, and when she finally faced Tommy fully, a grin broke out on her face. “It’s your brother.”

You blinked, the mention of Joel catching you off guard, as you had skirted around any reference to him both around Tommy and in your own mind for months. Your thoughts take a turn for the worst, immediately wondering if you were finally going to receive news of his untimely death. But Bonnie had said nothing bad had happened, and a bright smile was on her face now, so what—

“He’s back.”

Everything froze for a moment. 

Then, a huff of air escaped Tommy, the sound filled with relief as all the months of worrying about the worst for his brother finally broke with the knowledge that Joel was not only alive and safe, but he was here.

“What about the girl?” you found yourself asking, focusing back on Bonnie. “Ellie?”

Bonnie gave a nod of confirmation, speaking to you like she only just realized you were there.

“Yeah, she’s here too.”

You relaxed, relieved now that Joel had stayed alive for the kid, while keeping her safe and sound. 

Tommy glanced back at you, a tentative grin threatening to break across his features that had been somber for months. You knew he wouldn’t allow himself to fully relax until he saw his brother with his own two eyes, and you returned his smile with a small one of your own as you took his horse’s reins in your hand with your own horse’s.

“Go,” you said softly with a jerk of your head towards Bonnie. “I’ll get these two back and taken care of.”

“You sure?” Tommy asked, but his feet were already moving forward before you even finished speaking. You laughed softly at his eagerness, too fond of him to entertain the envy that hung heavy in the hollows of your heart. 

“Go,” you urged again, shaking your head affectionately as he turned his attention to Bonnie and barraged her with questions about where Joel was, where he had been, and if he was hurt.

Most of the nonstop questions Bonnie didn’t have the answer to, and you watched her lead Tommy towards the residential streets of Jackson before turning and making your way to the stables, gently urging the horses along behind you.

You took turns grooming and feeding each of the horses, ensuring they were well-taken care of before closing their gates and walking out of the building back into the warm spring breeze. The sweet scent of daffodils on the wind that caressed your face was comforting, even as you felt yourself filled with a strange sense of anxiety.

Joel Miller returning was not an eventuality you had taken into consideration. As the days after he left had turned into weeks, then into months, you had buried the memory of his face and touch in the cold earth of winter, a grave to be forgotten by time. But now spring had arrived, rebirth had taken the place of death, and the memory of Joel had clawed its way out of the crypt.

Your feet shifted, restless from the knowledge that he was back in Jackson, not knowing what to do with it. You glanced towards the direction you knew Tommy and Maria’s house was in, before you shook your head and started the familiar walk back to your own house.

While you knew Joel in an…intimate way, for lack of a better term, the man was still basically a stranger. You couldn’t imagine he would appreciate you intruding on the moment of reunion between him and Tommy. Those moments between family were rare nowadays, and you respected their privacy, as envious of it as you were.

Your footsteps echoed down your hallway as you closed the door of your house behind you, greeted by nothing but still, empty air. It may as well still be winter in here, you thought as you kicked your boots off.

Maybe I should get a dog or something, you mused as you collapsed onto your couch, pulling your feet underneath you. A pet might help with the ache of loneliness.

Your seat left you with a direct view into your kitchen, and you stared at the counter for a few seconds too long before shifting to face the other way.

For a moment you pondered whether you regretted that indulgence, those few short minutes of fulfilling a carnal desire with Joel. But you knew you didn’t. However you thought of that man, that moment of release, however fleeting it was, was something you needed. To just let go, to be free of the ghosts that haunted your mind in exchange for the chase of pleasure; to not have to think as you satisfied a base instinct with a complete stranger.

You sighed, pulling your knees up to hug them to your chest. You didn’t regret it now, but maybe you would the next time you inevitably came face to face with the older brother of your closest friend.

The man you had fucked in your kitchen.

Shit, this wasn’t going to be easy.

Two weeks passed before you saw Joel Miller again.

It was almost laughable, how well you seemed to be avoiding each other—assuming Joel was going out of his way to not run into you as much you were with him; which he probably wasn’t, gathering by how impassive he had seemed just from the one day you had known him.

You kept telling yourself it didn’t matter, that you shouldn’t care this much because surely he fucking didn’t. One-night stands were normal, healthy even. You were both adults, the eventual second meeting you were bound to have didn’t have to be awkward.

For a while you began to wonder if there would ever even be a second meeting, or if you had hallucinated Bonnie telling Tommy that Joel and Ellie had returned. But Tommy’s renewed good attitude convinced you it wasn’t a dream, and even if it didn’t, the chatter about the new arrivals that circulated the town was impossible to ignore.

Everybody in Jackson seemed obsessed with Joel and Ellie; from the mystery that shrouded their initial appearance and eventual return, to how well they had not only assimilated to life in Jackson, but contributed to it.

You found evidence of that impact as you checked the notice board for the location of your next scheduled patrol with Tommy. You searched the list, finding his name and scanning to your assigned trail before you stopped, realizing the letters you had skimmed over did not spell your name.

It was a bit embarrassing how long you had stared at the name listed next to Tommy’s for patrol. You didn’t move until another patrolman walked up, breaking your attention with their small talk as they checked their own post.

Joel, you looked at the name assigned to patrol with Tommy again before you looked for your own assignment, finding your name next to Mike’s for the Elk Creek patrol route.

Fucking Mike, you had thought with spite as you turned on your heel, bidding your chattering fellow patrolmen a stiff farewell before walking towards one of the dining halls. Hardass, can-never-take-a-goddamn-joke Mike. 

You told yourself it was a one time thing as you walked through the doors of a building where you could get a hot meal, and maybe even a drink to distract yourself. You tried to convince yourself that you would be back to patrolling with Tommy, continuing your familiar, never-ending contest of who could get more Infected kills in no time.

In the back of your mind, you knew that was a lie.

Distracted by your own thoughts, you almost didn’t notice him as you walked to the bar to order food and a much-needed drink. But the flash of a strong face framed by gray-tinted hair caught the attention of your subconscious, your head turning to see him seated further down the bar.

And there he was, Joel fucking Miller in all his glory.

Not very glorious, you thought as you watched him grip his spoon, eating his stew in that same nearly aggressive way you had seen when he first visited Jackson months ago. He had seemed to be almost more myth than man in recent weeks, as you realized you had heard the name Joel Miller and learned of his deeds through others more than you had spent time in his actual presence.

Even with him seated down the bar from you, it was hard to believe that moment you had shared, the minutes you had both shed all inhibitions for the tempting allure of release you could only find in sex.

Joel looked up from his bowl, impenetrable brown gaze meeting yours as if he could feel you watching him. Though his face was blank, thoughts inscrutable as he looked at you, everything you had tried so hard to forget for months all came rushing back to you in an instant. You were held captive to the memory of his voice whispering filthy things in your ear, his strong hands holding your hips steady, his rough fingertips digging into your thighs as he fucked you into the sweet bliss of an orgasm.

You swallowed thickly, hating how quickly and vividly you remembered it all. It hadn’t been that hard to forget after he had left, the memory buried into the subconscious of your mind so far that usually only a dream could drag it out.

But now Joel was back, the same enigma you had met months ago, unreadable eyes locked with yours as his chewing slowed. You wondered what he was thinking, if he was remembering what you had done together just as clearly as you were. But his emotions were just as guarded, intentions just as obscured as they were before, even as you kept observing each other.

After a moment that felt prolonged, but in reality probably only lasted a few seconds, he looked back down at his food, and your eyes quickly darted away. The bartender was standing on the other side of the counter, looking at you expectantly when you turned back. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized he was probably trying to take your order while you had been busy ogling Joel.

“Oh, uh,” you cleared your throat, fingers flexing against the counter as you tapped a nervous rhythm against it. “Could I just get a sandwich to go—”

The sound of your name being called interrupted you, and you turned with a held-back sigh to see Tommy walking towards you, grinning from ear to ear. You forced what you hoped was a matching smile on your face, and apparently your friend didn’t notice it was more akin to a grimace as he clapped a hand down on your shoulder.

“What are you ordering a sandwich for?” Tommy scoffed, steering you further down the bar with the hand still on your shoulder. “Come on, eat with us.”

You winced internally, mouth opening to try and stammer out unconvincing protests even as Tommy pushed you down into a seat near Joel.

Fucking fantastic, you thought as Tommy sunk down into the seat between the two of you. At least you didn’t have to sit next to Joel, your only saving grace being the beaming face of your closest friend that blocked his brother from your view.

His brother, the man who you had a quick one-night stand with.

Goddammit.

“I was almost done, actually,” Joel muttered without looking at either of you, and Tommy sent him a dirty look only a brother would be capable of.

“Then eat slower,” he said, like the solution was simple and Joel was either stupid or blind for not seeing it. Tommy turned back to the bartender with a grin to order some stew for himself and for you.

After the order was made, Tommy’s hands clapped together, his smile endearing in its eagerness as he looked between you and Joel sitting stiffly on either side of him.

“I’m glad you were both here,” he said as he leaned back, as if to give you and Joel a clear view of each other, even though you were both looking anywhere else. “I realized I never really got a chance to introduce you before.”

You glanced around the room as Joel continued to stare blankly into his bowl. Neither of you said anything as Tommy continued to look back and forth between you expectantly.

“Uh,” Tommy coughed, hesitating in the awkwardness. He slapped a hand on Joel’s back, making the man jolt forward and glare at his younger brother. “This is my big brother, Joel. Joel, this is—”

“I know who she is,” Joel interrupted curtly, and you froze at the dismissive tone as Tommy frowned in confusion.

When that confusion was directed back towards you, you plastered what you hoped was an easy smile on your face, quickly explaining away Joel’s knee-jerk unenthusiastic reaction the best you could.

“You know, the dam. I loaned him some guns,” you said casually with a shrug, hoping Tommy would buy it.

“Oh, that’s right,” Tommy nodded to himself, smoothing out his mustache with his fingers as he seemed to follow your line of thought. You shot Joel a glare when Tommy wasn’t looking at you, which the gruff survivor pointedly ignored.

“Well, this girly here has been my right-hand for quite some time now,” Tommy added, beaming in your direction, and you softened slightly as you smiled fondly back at him. “Don’t know where I’d be without her.”

Even though you and Tommy had an amicable atmosphere between you, Joel seemed to stiffen from it. He took a large bite of his stew, eating it quickly before standing abruptly.

“Right. Well, seeing as I’m done now—”

“Sit back down, you old hardass,” Tommy chastised as he grabbed Joel’s arm and tugged him back down, causing Joel to stumble into his seat again. “Our mama taught us better than to leave the table before everybody is finished.”

Joel glowered at Tommy, a look the younger brother purposefully ignored as your bowls of stew were placed down in front of you. Tommy dug right in without a second thought, even as you pushed the food in your bowl around with your spoon.

Despite your better judgment, your gaze slowly slid over to where Joel sat hunched forward, his forearms braced against the counter with his hands clasped together. His jaw ticked as soon as your eyes landed on him, your hand that was on your lap gripping the fabric of your pants when he looked at you from the corner of his eye.

I knew you were a slut from the first moment I set eyes on you.

Your spoon clattered against your bowl as the words suddenly rang through your head, the sound of metal hitting metal making you jump as you startled from the heated memory of that morning in your kitchen back to the present.

“You good?” you heard Tommy ask, and you nodded as you began to quickly shovel food into your mouth, wanting to get this moment over with as soon as possible.

That’s it. Good girl.

You nearly choked on your food as the filthy words echoed in your mind again, but you forced the food down your throat before taking another bite. Joel’s gaze was heavy on you, a sensation that was only making your memories more vivid.

This was so fucking stupid. You were an adult, you could deal with facing somebody you had a one-night stand with again without losing your cool.

“So, did you two get to know each other very well?”

This time you did choke, the unexpected question from Tommy causing you to swallow wrong. You coughed as Tommy glanced at you in concern, pushing a glass of water towards you that you gladly accepted.

When your throat was still scratchy but you could speak again, you opened your mouth to try and give an answer convincing enough that Tommy wouldn’t notice the weird energy between you and his brother any more than he already had.

“We—”

“Not at all,” Joel drawled, and your gaze slowly slid towards him at the contemptuous words that slipped so easily off his tongue.

He was taking a slow sip of his own water, not looking at you even as your startled stare began to turn into a resentful glower, your face heating up in embarrassment despite yourself.

After a moment, Joel glanced at you, face completely impassive as he regarded you for only a second before looking away. The dismissive glance successfully shattered through the haze of lustful memories that surrounded him. Anger began to rise, and you fought to keep it down, to try to hold together the pieces of your dignity.

You were adults, you reminded yourself. One night-stands meant nothing. It didn’t bother you that he was denying any hint of what you did together; you had been about to do so yourself. Joel’s indifference wasn’t the issue. You had expected his apathy, had even wished for it. A wish for life in Jackson to continue as it always had, even with him now living there.

But in that moment, you realized that this went past simple indifference. Joel had looked at you in the same way he did when you first met; like you were just some bothersome nuisance or, even worse, like you were beneath him. Like you were just some tiresome, persistent stain on his new life in Jackson.

Asshole, you thought bitterly. Your hands curled into fists, jaw clenching as you went back to scarfing down your stew in silence. You intentionally ignored Tommy’s confused gaze darting between the two of you on either side of him, shoveling food in your mouth to keep yourself from saying anything biting to Joel that you might regret.

Despite feeling that same initial distaste you had for Joel again, his enigmatic presence a few seats down from you felt almost impossible to ignore, even as he disregarded you with apparent ease. In the back of your mind, you slowly began to realize that a part of you was still drawn to him, even though you were clearly just a mistake he had made.

And that made the situation all the more infuriating.

Your spoon clattered into your empty bowl as you finished your food. Pushing yourself up out of the seat, you couldn’t resist the strength of your stubborn pride that urged you to send a bitter smile towards Joel.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go watch paint dry,” you said slowly, your voice dripping with poorly concealed disdain.

Tommy’s mouth gaped open as you turned, not casting another glance behind you. You passed by the bartender as they walked down the bar with a wrapped sandwich in hand. You heard them say it was for Ellie, followed by the rough Southern drawl that thanked them, but you were already out the doors before you could hear the end of the conversation.

Bastard, you thought furiously, determined to never spend another moment in Joel Miller’s presence as you stalked back to the empty home that awaited you. 

The second time you saw Joel Miller again was no better than the first.

“Hey,” a voice to your side pulled your head out of the clouds; the delicate, ethereal puffs of white floating through the bright blue sky above. 

You turned your head to see Dina looking down at you in concern from where she sat cross-legged next to you.

“Hm?” you hummed, raising an eyebrow in question. The apprehensive frown on her face deepened.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, her voice softer than usual, like she was trying not to spook you.

Pushing yourself up from where you were lying back in the grass, you gave her a bright smile, trying to alleviate her worries. You hated when Dina worried about you, because that wasn’t her job. She was still a kid, and she deserved to have the best childhood she could have while that time was still left. It wasn’t her responsibility to make sure you were okay—that was your responsibility to her.

“Yeah, ‘course,” you said confidently. The way her frown didn’t ease told you she didn’t believe you, and you quickly interrupted her with the first thing you could think of before she could continue to press you for the truth. “Uh, that bastard!”

Dina blinked, her concern giving way to confusion at your blurted curse.

“What?” she asked blankly, staring at you now like you had just grown two heads. Her tone took on a more typical teasing tone as she asked slowly, “Did you just have a stroke?”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh that carried on the warm spring breeze that brushed past you.

“Jesse, right?” you said lightly, and Dina groaned as she flopped backwards onto the grass. You waved your hand around like you were dismissing just the thought of him as you added, “We hate him, he’s a bastard, all that.”

“No!” Dina protested, her arms lifting into the air, like a signal she was giving up on explaining her roller-coaster adolescent relationship to you. “We don’t hate him!”

“But you broke up,” you replied slowly, drawing out the words as if it would help her understand you better. Dina rolled her eyes, her gaze so incredibly unamused at your lack of ability to keep up as she glared at you.

“No, we’re back together again!” she said in exasperation as she smacked you in the arm, and you pulled back your arm to rub it with a fake pout.

“Oh shit, really?” Even though you were confused about what was going on in the apparently very complicated love life of your young friend, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The topic of Jesse had been successful in turning the conversation away from the question of if you were alright.

Because you weren’t, but she didn't have to know that.

“Yes! God, you don’t listen to me.” Dina pouted as she turned onto her side so she was facing away from you, and you sighed with a roll of your eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t keep up with your crazy teenage love story,” you teased as you leaned back on the palms of your hands, squinting back up at the few remaining clouds that drifted lazily through the sky. “‘Will they, won’t they’ gets a little old after the first few hundred times.”

A swift kick to your leg makes you recoil, yelling in overexaggerated pain as you glare jokingly at the girl who attacked you.

“Does Jesse know you beat up people in your spare time?” you accuse as you try to lightly kick her back, but she quickly rolls out of the way to dodge your swinging leg. You smiled in approval, glad to see she was learning from the combat lessons she had pestered you into giving her.

“Only that I'm teaching old people a lesson,” Dina teased back as she stuck her tongue out, and you snickered at the comeback.

You were about to call her a little shit, your favorite term of endearment, when she turned away, her eyes lighting up at something she saw. Dina sat up quickly, waving a hand over her head with a bright grin.

“Hey Ellie!”

You turned, seeing the girl who Dina had called out to walking down the path that went past where you and Dina were lounging in the grass. You hadn’t seen Ellie yet since her return, and your hand lifted in your own wave as you offered a kind smile as a greeting.

Ellie hesitated, an awkward, tentative smile flickering onto her face before she returned the greeting with a small wave of her own. She turned, delivering an elbow into the side of the person beside her, and you held back a sigh as you noticed who was walking with her.

Of course, you thought bitterly to yourself, lowering your hand to rest on the grass again, your friendly smile dropping as you looked at Joel. He was glaring half-heartedly at Ellie, affronted by the jab to his ribs, before he turned back and nodded in greeting towards you and Dina.

You really tried to hold back the scoff at his begrudging acknowledgement, but a small noise of disapproval still escaped your lips. It appeared that only Dina heard it, the girl sending you a sidelong glance like she was regarding your strange behavior before looking back at Ellie with another charming grin.

“Ellie, this is—”

“Oh, we’ve met,” Ellie interrupted Dina’s introduction of you. Her smile was still small, still hesitant as she looked back at you. “Uh, what’s up?”

“You know,” you responded, one of your shoulders lifting in a shrug as you smiled back at Ellie. You ignored the urge to look towards Joel’s commanding presence at her side, even as you felt him watching you. “Surviving.”

“She means her life is boring,” Dina stage-whispered behind her hand, and you glared at her. “She doesn’t know how to have any fun.”

“Hey, you don’t gotta out me in front of the newbies,” you teased her as you ruffled her dark, meticulously styled hair, much to Dina’s over dramatic protest.

Your laughter was joined by Dina’s as she whacked your hand, causing you to playfully cower in mock pain. Glancing back at the sound of another quiet laugh, you saw that Ellie’s smile had grown, her eyes lighting up a bit more as she watched you and Dina joke around. 

The Ellie you were meeting now seemed much different than the one you had first met last winter. She was a stubborn spitfire when she visited Jackson months ago; a headstrong force to be reckoned with, resolute in her path and not backing down to any obstacles in the way to her goals. But now she seemed to be a sadder, more subdued version of herself. 

Just what had happened after she and Joel had left?

You glanced back at Joel at the thought, startled when you saw his gaze was already on you. He looked away quickly when your eyes met, scanning over the small, grassy park area you and Dina were sitting in. Your eyebrow raised at his attention that he quickly averted when you caught him staring.

What, now he was acknowledging your existence?

Dina peeked at you again, her eyes glittering with mischief as a smile you didn’t understand grew on her face. She bounced to her feet, ignoring your look of confusion as she cheerfully bounded over to grab Ellie's hand.

“Come on, I wanna show you something,” she said excitedly as she ran in another direction away from you, tugging a bewildered Ellie behind her.

Ellie’s stammers of protest were cut off by Dina’s excitement, who only called back towards you that they would be back in a bit when you and Joel called out the names of your respective prodigies.

When they got too far away to hear your protests anymore, you rubbed a hand over your face with a sigh of exasperation.

“Great,” you muttered, pushing yourself to your feet and wiping the grass stains off of your hands. Annoyance took a hold of you, because now you were stuck with…

“What was that?”

Your gaze narrowed as you turned to the source of the quiet baritone at your side. The irritating sight of Joel’s dark eyebrow arched towards you, clearly a show of silent judgment of your mumbling, nearly made your blood boil. 

For just one selfish moment, you let that spite get the better of you. You glanced over both your shoulders behind you before turning back to Joel, a hand placed on your chest as you feigned a look of surprise.

“Who, me?” you gasped over dramatically, taking a page in theatrics out of Dina’s book.

Joel’s raised brow dropped, his mouth setting in a firm line as he glared at you. Clearly displeased at your childish antics, but you didn’t stop yet.

“I’m sorry,” your words were slowly turning from fake shock to a lower tone, one that showed your festering bitterness towards the man. “I wasn’t aware that we were acknowledging each other now.”

Joel shook his head as he turned away from you, arms crossing over the flannel shirt he wore. He leaned back on the balls of his feet, as if he wanted to walk away, but you knew he wouldn’t. Not when Ellie wasn’t back by his side yet.

You took a moment to watch him as he looked towards the teenagers, feeling a bit less resentful towards the surly survivor when you noticed that his face seemed much softer when regarding Ellie now. Whatever had happened on their trip, it appeared that he had gotten over whatever was making him act so coldly towards her. His fondness for her was clear now, both in the way he furrowed his brow and how his eyes held a hint of worry as he kept a close watch on her.

"What?"

You blinked, realizing Joel had spoken directly to you, even as he kept watching Ellie laughing while Dina held out a butterfly on her finger. Both girls were smiling and giggling, and a fond smile grew on your own face as you watched Dina talk to Ellie so easily, while Ellie seemed more shy as her cheeks began to turn a light, almost unnoticeable pink.

“How is she adjusting?” you asked quietly, unable to shake the genuine concern you felt for Ellie’s shift in personality that you had witnessed earlier.

“Fine,” Joel replied shortly, his tone firm and telling you this wasn’t really a topic of discussion, and you backed off from continuing the conversation. Even though Joel annoyed you, you wouldn’t pry into his private life. He was still a stranger, and you had nothing to do with his relationship with Ellie. Clearly they meant something to each other, seeing as they were back in Jackson together now.

Another stretch of quiet passed, as you and Joel stood by each other’s side while also trying to ignore the fact that you were standing by each other’s side.

It was annoying how magnetic the man was, even as the renewed tension between the two of you felt more similar to the antagonistic atmosphere you had when you first met him. You were beginning to realize that Joel just had that aura about him; the commanding presence of a man who you did not want to fuck with, because you probably wouldn’t live to tell the tale if you did.

Your gaze is drawn back to him for a moment, eyes tracing the lines of his face when you notice a scar near his hairline. Looked like it was from a bullet graze, you mused as you felt a phantom pain on your own cheek from where you had a similar scar.

And therein lies what might be the most annoying thing about Joel Miller.

That you might be a lot more alike than you cared to admit.

Your gaze is drawn back to the girls who were as they watched the butterflies resting on some white carnations. The sight of their innocent girlhood warmed the chill in your heart, and you hoped that Dina’s infectious cheerful attitude could help draw Ellie back out of whatever melancholia she had fallen into.

“Is she your sister?” Joel finally broke the silence, nodding towards where Dina playfully nudged Ellie’s shoulder with her own, the two laughing without a care in this dark world, at least in this moment.

You froze.

In a sudden flash, Dina wasn’t standing there anymore. Neither was Ellie. The flowers and butterflies, the cheerful sunny day in Jackson, were all gone.

Standing a few feet away from you was a young girl, splashing in a puddle. Her feet stomped and kicked, gleeful laughter escaping her from the joy of whatever game she was playing. You heard your own voice call out her name even as your lips didn’t move, and the girl looked up at you, bright eyes and a brighter smile on a familiar face.

You blinked rapidly, the image in your mind’s eye disappearing as quickly as it came. A breath is sucked in sharply through your nose, your hands clenched into fists from where you had placed them inside the pockets of your lightweight jacket.

The face of the girl was gone, and Dina was smiling at Ellie again in her place. Your eyes flickered over the scene, trying to bring yourself back to the present.

Flowers and butterflies. Cheerful sunny day. Jackson.

You breathed in through your nose again, settling your nerves and the tumultuous storm of emotions that raged inside your fragile heart as you let the breath out through your mouth.

“No,” you said quietly, answering Joel’s question when you could finally register his presence at your side once more.

He said nothing, but you could see him watching you closely out of the corner of your eye, just as much as you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. 

Even if he had wanted to say something, he didn’t get the chance as Ellie and Dina finally returned. You quickly wiped your face free of any expression that could show your inner turmoil as Dina bounced up to you. A grin fell easily into place as you threw an arm loosely around her shoulder, bidding Joel and Ellie farewell and heading to the nearest place you could get a bite to eat when Dina claimed to be starving.

You could feel a heavy gaze on your back as you walked away, but you ignored it.

More time passed.

Patrols didn’t carry the same comfort that they used to as you continued to rotate partners; Mike, Astrid, Eugene and eventually Jesse, when the teenager convinced Maria and Tommy that he was old enough and skilled enough to start patrolling.

Never Tommy, though. While you still spent a good amount of your free time with your fellow ex-Firefly, his patrols had been exclusively with Joel since the older man’s return to Jackson. Everything you heard about the brothers’ patrols was nothing short of glowing praise. The pair had taken on more dangerous routes, clearing out Infected and the occasional bandits in areas you hadn’t dared to venture out to before.

They were Maria’s go-to pair for the more intense jobs, and Eugene and Jesse became your more permanent partners. You didn’t mind the presence of either; you knew Eugene well from your shared history in the Fireflies, and the older man never failed to make you laugh with his never-ending supply of wise-crack jokes.

Jesse, you were hesitant to work with at first. You knew the teen at least through association with Dina, having heard much from your young friend about their rickety on-and-off relationship. You were protective of Dina, and that made you treat Jesse distantly, regarding him with judgment until he quickly proved himself not only with his combat skills, but with the fondness he spoke of Dina with.

He wasn’t the worst choice for her, you decided, even as you noticed the way Dina looked at Ellie when she couldn’t be caught staring, and vice-versa. Your heart warmed at how close the girls had become since Ellie had returned to Jackson, either quickly overcoming their awkward initial meeting, or having completely forgotten about it—at least by Ellie.

You didn’t know what had happened to Ellie on her travels with Joel, but you could tell that the fire in her that once burned brightly was smaller than before. There were still hints of mischief in her eyes, even though they were more somber than before. 

Over time, and through her friendship with Jesse and Dina, along with a few other kids in Jackson, you saw more of the Ellie you had met last winter. You were glad that she could still have some semblance of a remaining childhood in Jackson, even after whatever had occurred in the months between your meetings with her.

Tommy never told you much about where Joel and Ellie had traveled to, or why they had gone, beyond the basics: Ellie had some kind of connection to the Fireflies, and Joel was trying to make sure she got to them safely. Ellie’s persistent interest in the Fireflies when she was speaking to you finally made sense at that small portion of information, even though you didn’t know the reason she was going to them.

It was a question you still didn’t have an answer to, but you didn’t pry, even though you were curious. You already knew more than most, after all. Everybody else just thought Joel and Ellie were survivors that had traveled far to be where Joel’s older brother could help them have a chance at a normal life. Besides, it wasn’t really your business what their past was; having secrets were a luxury few could afford nowadays, and you respected that.

Even though you were jealous of Joel being Tommy’s new patrol partner, and despite your…annoyance with the man’s personality, there was no real reason for you to dislike Joel. The two of you could be perfectly tolerant of each other when you needed to be; mainly in those moments when you both were in the same room as Tommy and he was glancing between the two of you, watching your short greetings and few words exchanged with a furrow between his brow. 

If he thought anything was off about the way his closest friend and older brother spoke with each other, he didn’t say anything about it. You figured Tommy probably dismissed it as the butting of strong personalities, writing it off as two natures that were discordant with each other.

He wasn’t wrong, really. You knew that there had always been a tension between you and Joel since you first met. It had been a mutual annoyance at first, even before it had morphed into a frustrating sexual tension. The former feeling had reappeared whenever you had to deal with Joel now, and if the latter was still present as well, you were in pretty strong denial of its existence. 

It’s not like you ever had the time to really think about it much. No reason existed for you to ever spend time with Joel without Tommy’s presence, and even those few moments were cut short by either you or Joel finding some reason or another to make a quick exit.

That was until Maria gave birth, effectively cutting Tommy out of his patrol duties.

You stood shockingly still, staring at the patrol route listing on the notice board, as if willing the letters to rearrange before your eyes and give you a different partner.

Any other partner, you thought to yourself. But when you blinked, the name listed with yours hadn’t changed by some kind of nonexistent magic like you had been wishing for. As if the universe had ever listened to your pleas in the first place.

For once, you found yourself wishing for hardass, can-never-take-a-goddamn-joke Mike to be your patrol partner. You would have taken even him over Joel Miller.

Mike’s presence may be just as stiff and stoic, but being with him held none of the annoying, persistent tension that still hovered in the air between you and Joel. Calling it awkward was a vast understatement, and you were sure that strain would put either one or both of you in danger if you patrolled together.

That was the reason you now found yourself standing in Tommy’s living room, arguing with the man about the assignment even as he looked up at you with the tiredness only a new parent could feel. He said your name in an exhausted tone, and although you felt bad for pestering him, you were nothing if not persistent.

“Tommy,” you interrupted by speaking his own name, “if you want your brother and I to patrol together, I hope you’re okay with the fact that only one of us might return.”

Your friend sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his face as he leaned forward. The dark circles under his eyes enhanced the wrinkles on his weathered skin, and suddenly he looked much older than you had ever seen him.

“I know that for whatever reason, you and Joel don’t get along,” Tommy started, steering away from the question of why as you gave him a hard look that warned him not to ask. “But you are the most skilled patrolmen we got here in Jackson. Nobody else can do that route except for the two of you.”

“Oh, so now you see my skill,” your voice was dripping with a harsh sarcasm that stemmed from ugly jealousy as you bit back, “after weeks of sticking me with anybody but you.”

Tommy shifted in his seat, sighing heavily as he rested his palms on his legs. He didn’t deny your statement, something that only made you more frustrated as you chewed the inside of your cheek and looked away. Even though you were annoyed, the sight of his exhaustion was slowly sapping the fight out of you, and you sighed.

“I know Joel is good at what he does,” you finally assent, your voice quieter after a moment of collecting yourself. You didn’t want to snap at Tommy, not when he was this tired, and not when he was the only family you had left. Your voice was notably more vulnerable as you added, “But that doesn’t mean you had to cut me out.”

“I’m not cutting you out,” Tommy said softly, looking up at you with a face as earnest as his words. “It’s just that Maria—”

“Yeah,” you interrupted, knowing where this was going as you finally sank into the plush couch cushion next to Tommy. “Yeah, I know.”

Maria thought in tactics, seeing into the future that Jackson needed in a way that even you and Tommy couldn’t. You knew she had the best intentions for the settlement in mind, and that the progress Tommy and Joel made together was indisputable. Joel was a force to be reckoned with, able to go in guns blazing if he needed to, while you preferred to stay back from a distance. 

You and Tommy were the same that way, your preferred style of combat allowing for your sniping contest and a good amount of security for Jackson. But Tommy and Joel complemented each other, balancing each other’s fighting style in a way that ensured they got the hardest work possible done, making the most progress for Jackson’s safety.

Stillness fell upon the living room as you both took a moment to just breathe. Your gaze was drawn to the small memorial shrine above the fireplace, the burnt down candles and names you saw every time you visited the house, along with the years they had lived.

You didn’t know who they were, and you had never asked. It had always felt wrong, to pry into something so personal. The sight of those short lifespans sobered you, erasing your bitterness as you slowly let your selfish anger towards the situation go. Tommy and Maria had a child now, and they were just ensuring they had the full life they deserved inside the safety of Jackson’s walls.

“You could have been working with Joel by now, if the two of you didn’t hate each other so much.”

A laugh escaped you as Tommy broke the silence, the sound tired as you closed your eyes, tilting your head back to rest on the top of the couch. 

“Hate is too strong a word,” you murmur, not liking how similar the intense feeling of hatred was to the short-lived passion you had once shared with Joel.

After giving in to the assignment and bidding farewell to Tommy when the baby started crying again—my turn, the man had said before hastily bounding up the stairs to help his wife—you realized he was right. Given how similar your fighting style was to Tommy’s, you would be able to fall into step beside Joel without a problem.

That was, if the two of you didn’t tear each other’s heads off first.

[blanketorghost]

Okay hi hello I have seen a sudden new influx in EAH fans (hiiiii welcome <3) and while I am very happy to see this little fandom still be more than three pieces of lint and a paperclip, I am here to give y'all a list of already DEBUNKED EAH myths that somehow always show up whenever this happens every 1/2 years:

"Apple White and Raven Queen are related."

They are not. In Chapter 2 Episode 11 "Blondie Branches Out" there's a throaway line explaining how the 'Prince Charming' role is distributed between multiple unrelated Charming families. There is also no mention in any of EAH media of Apple and Raven being related. The only related characters are:

Poppy and Holly O'Hair (Twins)

Giles & Milton Grimm (Siblings, Milton is the oldest)

Cerise Hood and Ramona Badwolf (Siblings, order not specified)

Daring, Dexter and Darling charming (Siblings, Daring is the oldest and Dexter and Darling are fraternal twins)

Briar Beauty and Rosabella Beauty (1st Cousins)

Gus and Helga Crumb (1st Cousins)

The Hood/Badwolf sisters, Sparrow Hood (Distant cousins)

In Apple White's 'Royally Ever After' diary, the retelling of the Snow White fairytale has Apple be Raven's personal assistant that later overthrows her rule, meaning familial relation and them sharing a royal bloodline is not a necessary part of the narrative.

"XYZ Background character is the descendant of ABC fairytale character."

Unless directly confirmed by a GURU media employee or mentioned in the show, none of the background characters have a direct counterpart.

Most of the most famous background characters are actually cameos/based off of animators (pictured below):

The fandom wiki is not a reliable source given the fact it has no edit protection and the moderators are no longer active.

Be carefulnot to confuse popular hedacanons or fan designs (more often than not fanart by red_red_heels, boots.caitlin and/or theprincessswan on instagram)

"XYZ's fairytale parent is dead."

Unless specifically stated, this is also not true. Certain stories have a loophole or workaround that prevent major character death. So far we have been given confirmation of:

Cinderella (Unknown loophole): shown to still be alive in 'Ashlynn Ella's Story'

The Swan Queen (Turned into a swan forever): It is not known wether or not Duchess' mom gave birth to her while she was still a human or if she was born from an egg. Raised by her grandmother. It is implied her curse is generational.

The Little Mermaid (Happy Ending): The first time this loophole is mentioned explicitly (Meeshell's diary). She was given a happy ending and lives under the sea, unlike the original HCA story. Story variation further explained in 'Fairy Tail Ending'.

The Big Bad Wolf (Unknown loophole): Self explanatory.

Baba Yaga (Possible Immortality?): Self explanatory.

The Candy Witch (Version recorded in the Storybook of Legends confirmed to be inaccurate): Explained in 'Kiss and Spell'.

"Descendants killed EAH."

Look, I am as much of a Descendants hater as the next guy, but the unfortunate truth is that EAH was never as successful as Mattel expected it to be. Their style was too 'childish and girly' for kids who were already into Monster High, and their themes were far too complex for younger kids to fully grasp. So their target audience was unfortunately not very interested. This is coming from someone who was around 11-12 when EAH came out. As an existing MH fan, I was turned off by it as at that time kids were entering their more 'edgy' phase and wasn't willing to give it a chance.

What dealt the killing blow was Mattel and Disney severing their contract over the Disney Princess doll line due to decreasing quality, and then after the release of descendants with Hasbro, one of Mattel's biggest competitors.

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There's probably some other myths I missed, but these are the most common/widely believed ones. I'll maybe reblog/update later with more myths as I come across them.