#He doesn't really care to find out or put in the time
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"A Kiss?"
Sirius Black x Reader
"It's not that you don't like Sirius, you do, that's the problem.
that's why being chest to chest with him in a cramped storage closet is not the most ideal situation for you right now"
Masterlist
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It's not that you don't like Sirius, you do, that's the problem.
that's why being chest to chest with him in a cramped storage closet is not the most ideal situation for you right now. Especially when you can smell his woody cologne, the leather of his jacket, and the lingering scent of the cigarette he smoked earlier.
How I got in this situation? A Marauders prank gone wrong. You never really cared about the pranks they loved to pull because they never concerned you. This one went wrong, very wrong, Hence your current situation.
There were only supposed to be a few fireworks outside apparently, of course you didn't know that when loud popping noises disrupted you in the middle of your walk to charms. Professors all came running out of their classrooms, students were shrieking and ducking down, you were just plain confused because, what the fuck? No really, what the fuck?
You were even more confused when Sirius Black, of all people, came hurdling towards you and virtually flung himself onto of you hurdling you both towards the ground. Narrowly avoiding an off track flaming firework that went off into a dazzling explosion resulting in colorful sparks just mere feet away from you. Covering the hallway in a thick fog that made your eyes water.
The shock of it all made you not fight when two strong hands plucked you up off the floor and pushed you into the nearest storage closet.
When you finally come back to your senses and realize, really realize, that you're practically glued to a guilty looking Sirius's chest, lets Just say you flip out to put it lightly.
"What the fuck was that!"
"Those were fireworks."
"No fucking shit Black, why were they inside?"
You don't hear him sigh as much as you feel the breath softly brush against your neck
"Because Remus messed up the spell that he's been working on for months and gave James the wrong instructions causing the prank we have been planning for months to fall apart. I honestly can't believe them, I for one would have never-"
"Sirius! I Don't care about your stupid prank! I care about the fact that I just got tackled to the ground like I was in a quidditch match, burst both my eardrums from the noise, and went blind for at least 2 minutes out their, and you're complaining about how your prank didn't work? Are you serious right now?"
He smirks, and well you pretty much walked yourself right into the next thing he's going to say. It doesn't make it any less annoying.
"I'm always Sirius" he says with the goofiest, boyish grin on his face, and if it weren't for your situation right now, you probably would have smiled back considering Sirius Blacks smile is as close to a beam of sunlight as humanly possible.
you internally scream and give him a deadpan look. He goes back to looking sheepish.
Now that you are calming down, or at least not absolutely fuming anymore, you get a chance to really look at Sirius. You notice the freckle on his cheek, the slight crease in his eyebrow, the scar on his upper lip. He's very pretty, though you'd never say it to his face. Not willing to inflate is already massive ego.
You find yourself slowing your breathing slowing down to match the breaths you feel him taking against your chest. And god his chest, its firm against your body and now you are picturing all the times you saw him by the lake in the warmer months in nothing but his swim trunks and- god is it hot in here? when did it get so hot?
there really isn't much room in here.
Sirius must sense the sudden shift in the room because he opens his mouth to say something, then immediately shuts it.
"Have you seem Sirius, James, Remus, or Peter? I know they had something to do with this. Once I find them they are dead meat. All of them. Detentions, perhaps for the whole year. Find me immediately if you see them. That goes for all student, If you see something say something! I will get to the bottom of this!"
You feel siariuss chest start to shack against yours and muffled giggles Strat coming out of his mouth until he can't hold back anymore and starts cackling
What are you doing? its like you want to get caught! Sirius be quiet I'm not kidding they are going to hear you!" You quickly give up your antics when you realize they are no use to sirius's implacable case of the giggles
So you take your hand and promptly slap it over his mouth.
His eyes widen, but then go back to their normal devious state of unmistakable mischief and he licks your hand. He. Licks. Your. Hand.
"ugh" You snatch your hand away immediately and wipe it down on his shirt without thinking. The problem with not thinking? You're rubbing your hand that was over his mouth on his chest. You are rubbing Sirius Black's Chest.
When you look back up you expect to see his teasing gaze ready to poke fun at you for touching his "Magnificently toned pecs" but his face is, pun not intended, serious. His cheeks are even tinted a little pink, and that just can't be right because Sirius doesn't blush. He gets flirted with by the hottest girl and boys at school and doesn't even bat an eye. There is just no possible way you could have made Sirius black blush, but yet here you are.
Looking up into his eyes you find him staring right back at you.
"You know your eyes are really pretty up close, its kinda hard to see them from across the classroom in potions" Sirius says quietly, voice almost a whisper
and you practically melt on the spot because that was such a nice thing to say. And he said it to you. Perfectly average you.
"Thank you" you breathed out "your eyes are very beautiful too."
"Are they now?" he smiled and quirked his eyebrow
you roll your eyes, "In that case I take it back-"
"No! You can't just take it back, I'm sorry! How can I make it up to you?"
"Make up what?"
"My awful teasing, and me being part of the reason you had to miss charms class and be stuck in a closet with me for twenty minutes"
"being in a closet with you wasn't that bad but I can think of a way you can make it up to me"
"Anything."
"A kiss?" you whisper
He smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that" and he leans down to softly attach his lips to yours.
#sirius black fluff#sirius black x reader#sirius black imagine#sirius x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black#marauders era
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Fuyume Hanamura Idol Story 1
ーThe Yumenosaki Academy library, two years since the establishment of ES.
Fuyume: Excuse me?
Are there any fairy tales here…?
Oh, the shelf over there is the section for picture books and stuff?
Thank you for your help.
~...♪
(Ah, she was right. Yume recognises a bunch of the books over here.)
(They’ve got a good selection to choose from but the categorising is a mess. They’re just randomly thrown onto the shelf without any care for alphabetical order or release date.)
(Oh well…apparently no one has any love for fairy tales…)
(‘The Little Mermaid, ‘Momotaro’, ‘Tale of The Bamboo-Cutter’, ‘Snow White’, ‘Urashima Taro’, ‘Cinderella’—)
(Oh! It might not be the one Yume was looking for but he’s in the mood to read Cinderella today.)
(This story is another one that Yume adores.)
(It’s a tale about love being rewarded.)
…♪
Fuyume: …? Hm? Oh, uhm, you’re that nice person from earlier—did you need something?
You were so kind to Yume earlier, so he’d be happy to give you some company.
Huh? The Yumenosaki Academy library is off-limits to anyone that doesn’t work for or attend the school?
How could you tell that Yume isn’t a student here?
Ooh, cause Yume isn’t wearing the uniform…?
That makes sense…no biggie, Yume will be sure to wear the school uniform next time.
Yume is really good at sewing, so it won’t be a problem…fufu ♪
Huh? That’s not the issue?
Yume doesn't like anything you’re saying right now.
Here he was thinking you were a nice person.
Fuyume: Huh? Yume’s name is Fuyume Hanamura.
And you are? …Anzu-san? You’re a graduate of Yumenosaki?
You’re here at your old school to do some producer work, huh? It made you feel nostalgic so you’ve been walking around the grounds…?
Oh, is that the case? Hmm…♪
Then, aren’t you and Yume in the same boat? Yume goes to a middle school separate from Yumenosaki and you’ve already graduated…right?
It sounds like neither of us are allowed to be here.
Let's work together then, okay? If you pretend you never saw Yume, he won’t go around yelling, ‘There’s a trespasser in here!’ …♪
What do they call it? A contract, business, bargaining? Let’s do something like that…♪
If you’re willing to comply, Yume will leave you be. He isn't particularly interested in you anyway.
Yume is just here to read some fairy tales.
…♪
Fuyume: Huh? Did you need something else? You want to know what Yume is reading?
Ehehe, you’re interested in fairy tales? Sounds like we can get along.
Ehehehehehe. Yume is just reading a picture book about the massively popular princess, Cinderella. Though, he actually wanted to read something else.
Maybe you’ve heard of it? For some reason, no one in Japan knows about it—it’s a fairy tale about an amethyst.
Even if you don’t know the story, maybe you’ve heard this quote before?
—”The amethyst broke into pieces.”
Fufu. I guess you haven’t heard of it. Oh well.
Basically, it’s a story about an ordinary girl that comes across an amethyst that can grant any wish that she desires.
In fact, she actually fuses with the amethyst and becomes a crystalised-human of sorts.
It’s a curse put on her by an evil witch…ehehehehe ♪
The plot is kinda similar to ‘The Happy Prince’. Actually, something like ‘Arabian Nights’ or ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ might be a better match.
After transforming into the wish-granting amethyst, the girl wishes for her crush to pay attention to her, or to become better friends with people—
With each little wish she makes, the amethyst uses its power and gradually begins to crack—
Aah…♪ Eventually, her body becomes so fractured that it crumbles away and she loses all of the love and friends that she had been granted.
Her loved ones view her like a monster and chase her away in fear.
After everything, the final wish she makes is—
Fuyume: —Ah, wait, Yume thinks you should read it for yourself to find out what happens next. Spoilers are a crime!
Ehehe. If there’s one thing Yume can say, it’s that he empathises with the amethyst girl and even admires her.
At the end of it all, the final remaining piece of her—
Becomes a ring that showers the wedding between her best friend and the one she loved in joy.
After everything, her final wish is—wait, oops, Yume just realised how much he’s spoiling. He’s really really sorry.
You don’t mind? Really? You’re super kind, you know?
Ehehe. You see, Yume shares the same wish as the girl who became a ring.
—-“I wish for your life to be full of joy.”
During her final moments, the girl whose selfish asks led her to break apart used her last wish to bring someone else happiness.
Ehehe. Yume doesn’t have the power to grant wishes but he’ll do everything he can to achieve that too.
For example, Esu goes to Yumenosaki so Yume snuck in to watch over him in secret.
Huh? Does Yume love Esu?
It depends how you define ‘love’ but yep, Yume loves Esu.
But it's sad, isn't it? The reality we live in isn’t a fairytale.
—The amethyst already shattered long ago.
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Before I Leave You (Pt.69)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: The pack meet with moonbyul to discuss terms.
Tags: Violence, Angst with the happy ending on the horizon, fluff if you squint, Yoongi gets really really angry and kinda triggers the m/c, allusions to past abuse, Blood, manipulative behavior, murderous tendencies, trans! tae, Transphobia, Trans! moonbyul,
W/c: 11.5k
A/n: wow something went heavily wrong with the formatting while i was editing this! if you notice any extra lines or weird breaks (especially on mobile) i tried my best! not sure what went wrong but i might just have to physically re-type this chapter again.
Previous part - Masterlist - First part
I’ll let you in on a little secret:
In every other version of this story, Hobi doesn’t get to the door in time.
In every other version, the doors would close and Hoseok would hit them with his fists and yell. Screaming himself bloody and hoarse in the futility of it all. Watching as his future with you melts away at his fingertips like ocean foam, slipping away into the sea like a piece of clear sea glass, disappearing into the deep. They’d miss you at the next station and the one after that too.
In every other version of reality, in every parallel universe, he's too late to save you.
But in this one, he gets his pinky finger between the doors just before they slam shut.
The safety feature that keeps the train from closing on any late passengers shoots open with a hiss of compressed air. It's only open for a split second but Hoseok shoves himself through the 8-inch gap and into the warm interior of the train. Jungkook is left on the other side, banging on the door, running to keep up with the car as it thuds and lurches and starts to speed up.
"Next station" Jungkook’s mouth forms the words but Hoseok doesn't hear him say it over the roar of the train. There’s only a few seconds of them staring at each other. Jungkook’s messy hair flops as he runs. The wetness on his cheeks from frustrated tears glistening in the yellow sunlight before Jungkook runs out of the platform and is left standing there at the edge. Hoseok hurdles on.
Hoseok’s blood is roaring in his ears. He puts his hands on his knees and pants. The thudding momentum of the train makes Hoseok fall over, either that or it's from lack of oxygen. One second he's looking at JK and then next he's sprawled on the dirty linoleum floor before he pulls himself upright.
His throat feels like it’s still swelling a little. He puts his hands there, trying to steady himself. Black spots dance in his vision and he catches himself for a second time on the metal rail as the train rolls and jostles.
When he coughs, there’s dark blood in the palm of his hands. Hoseok wipes it on his pajama pants and starts looking.
He knows he must look like something horrific because an old woman in the first priority row looks at him with a crinkle of concern twisting her face. “Are you alright son?” She asks, voice squeaky.
“Yeah, just a rough morning” he grabs the back of her seat as he sways, steading himself for just a second before he uses the headrest of the seat to pull himself back down the train.
Hobi combs through the train cars slowly, betting that you'll be close to the end. He takes the longer route first, better to go down to the end and work his way back up in case you're in the first three cars, just in case you decide to get off at the next station.
He searches and searches until the fear starts to take hold in his stomach, nausea or maybe it’s just motion sickness.
He draws a bit of attention as he moves. Mostly from adults, the little unpresented pups that jump back and forth between the seats without a care in the world don’t find the bruises on his neck anything out of the ordinary. But an omega pulls his pups into his lap at Hoseok's approach. Hoseok is too sick with worry to pay them any mind.
But Hoseok doesn't need to worry, because he finds you on the fifth train car.
The blue sticky vinyl seats are full of all sorts of people; A stuffy alpha in a suit and a pair of bright yellow headphones. A small elderly omega woman with a big bushel of frizzy hair and about 10 tote bags to her name muddles through her morning commute. Two freshly presented teenagers with patched-up jackets, punky and honest in their aesthetic.
But there- at the end of the car where the booth seats facing each other turn into single rows all facing the same direction. Folded into the window a figure in dark clothes hunched over trying to look as small as possible. Trying to disappear.
Trying to hide.
Anyone would be able to scent the clear and clary smell of distress and loneliness on the air. It’s the same scent that soaks Namjoon’s hospital- noxious and pungent. It hits Hoseok with such a visceral wave that he almost falls over again.
You’re wearing his sweatshirt and Yoongi’s jacket. The hood drawn up over your head to hide your sob blotchy face from the strangers. Sniffling as you look out the window. He sees you wipe your eyes. You don't look up at all. You don't even notice Hobi approaching until he's slipping into the seat next to you and sliding his hand to lace through yours. His knuckle, your knuckle, then his.
You startle. Predictably- your fear response has always been a little bit over the top. You flinch, whirling, starting when you see it’s him. Jerking your hand out of his on instinct and nearly backing yourself into the window. Getting yourself as far away from him on the narrow seat as possible.
He wants to yell at you, he wants to shout at how stupid you are for leaving something good. (Don’t you know how rare good is for people like us? Don’t you want to hold onto it?) All of the shit with his ex- with Moonbyul seems impossible- but you sacrificing yourself for others is not hard for Hobi to believe. That part of this is so painfully logical and so painfully you that if Hobi were less scared right now he might start crying.
You've always thought you were less valuable, less necessary, less loved by the pack. The last one in is the first one out. Hoseok knows you think this because he used to think that way too.
He wants to yell at you but instead his voice comes out soft, the way that the others used to talk to you back when you didn’t speak. Like he's comforting a startled animal. You are a startled animal.
"You used the train ticket" He swallows. It stings. Hurts like a bitch really. Every time he speaks it hurts. "I never thought you'd use it."
Hoseok puts his hand on the seat in front of you blocking you as you try and get up and out of your seat. Moving automatically to get away- to get safe. That might be all that you know how to do- keep yourself safe.
You stand there for a second, in stalemate. Blood drains from your face, and you stare each other down as Hoseok goes from devastated to angry and then sad again. Struggling not to cry. Hoseok doesn’t like to cry- it’s too much like begging. His body asking for what he can’t.
It’s quiet, you have to be quiet here. There aren’t too many people but a few rows in front of you is a pair of alpha's in suits with briefcases. Unseemly eyes could be hidden everywhere so you need to be quiet. Hoseok's voice is quiet anyway. He still can’t speak much above a whisper.
No quicker have you startled than you start to push at him, at his shoulders. Literally trying to push him out of the chair. Shaking your head. "You can't be here Hobi you have to go, they'll kill you-" You start to pull him up to his feet but he makes himself a lead weight.
“No- no I’m not going to let you go.” Hoseok cups your cheek, long fingers rubbing your tears away. The pads of his fingers cradling your cheek. Soft skin, your cheeks have always been so soft. Hobi’s brain gets caught on the sensation.
"This is how this is going to work; we're going to get off at the train station- and then with any luck- Yoongi and Jimin and Jungkook will already be there and we're going to go home, okay?" He tilts his face, trying to get a better look under your hood, lower lip wobbling, voice breaking, “You have to come home with me, okay?”
You’re trembling so hard that Hobi can feel it as he holds your face, shaking your head stubbornly.
"Hobi, if I don't go. Jimin’s going to die, you're going to die, Jin’s going to die. I can't not do something. Don't pretend one life outweighs three."
"I can't let you go."
You lean into his hand. Has Hoseok ever cupped your cheek before or is the first time he's touched you this way? He can't remember. There are so many firsts that he can't remember. So many firsts that haven't happened yet. Slipping through his fingers like water.
"And I can't let you die."
Hoseok holds your cheeks, thumbs skimming up and down your cheekbones, a little more hollow than usual. These last few days have stretched all of you thin and honest. The truth does not feed you, like subsiding off of air. This truth is not one that he wants to share but-
Yoongi had looked a little shocked when he’d told him, that kind of shock that sort of feels vindicating- like you matter. Hoseok doesn't understand why Moonbyul being his ex matters. But Yoongi's reaction makes him think it is.
The light fills the train car honey golden slipping away to the clean brightness of a winter day. The light flashing through the trees like some sort of strobe light, flickering across both of you here- at the back of the train where there is no one to overhear.
Hoseok pulls himself closer to you, his lips brushing your ear. "I never told you- the name of my old pack omega but I think you know her.”
The train hisses and shrieks and your hand settles over Hoseok’s bruised wrist.
“I think you know her very very well because Yoongi said you do."
Hoseok pulls you flush against him, across the seat, your foot hitting his ankle, and whispers it into your ear.
"Her name was Moon Byul-yi."
You freeze in his hold, trembling, and he pulls away to watch the visceral realization dawn on your face. You're smart. The Moonbyul he knew would have never thought to anticipate that either of you was smart. Haughty and superior to the last inch. She’d have assumed that she had the upper hand like all narcissists do. Why would prey know anything about the hunt?
You panic, your conviction is slipping away, Hoseok can see you’re struggling to hold onto it. “Hoseok- you don’t understand, I have to do this, I need to.”
He takes your hand in his. “Okay- if you want to go then I’m coming with you.”
“Hoseok.”
He shakes his head and brings the back of your hand up to his mouth to run his lips along your knuckles. Gripping it tight. Your bones and his bones all aligned, the sunburn on the back of his hands that’s always sort of there from driving and the faint scars that line your hands from cooking. Both self-inflicted and accidental.
(Love is that way too, either something that you seek out or something that happens to you. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to Hoseok, you could never be the worst).
There is one scar at the bottom of your hand and the bottom of his; a line across his right palm and a line across your left one- both gotten the night that you tried to take the train. You didn’t take the train then but you’ve taken it now.
You’ve made your choice and Hoseok makes his. “Either together or not at all.”
Hoseok rationalizes it by thinking- If you were going back to Geumjae and if he was still alive, you’d never let him walk into his clutches. You would never let Geumjae lay a hand on him, so he won’t let you go to her. Will do everything in his power to get you off of this fucking train.
“I’m sorry, Hobi- I’m-”
He pulls himself closer to you. Lips touching your temple just like the sunlight. Your warm thigh pressed to his warm thigh.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing to make up for. If we want to survive this then we need to do it together.” Hoseok presses a kiss to your hairline and lets it linger there. “I won't haunt you if you won't haunt me."
“You don’t understand-“
“Why? Why do you have to be the one? If you can answer me that honestly and in a way that makes sense, then I’ll let you go.” Hoseok says the words as he drags his nose across your hairline in a small scent mark. A growl rolling in his throat. His hand itching towards the back of your neck- if he were able to scruff you- he could drag you off this train with or without your say-so.
Hoseok won't do that to you unless it's absolutely necessary. He won't scruff you maliciously but honestly, he'd damn the consequences at this point. You know the risks, and yet you let his hand settle on the back of your neck. He doesn't scruff you yet.
You are on the train now, but you could get off of it. Hoseok managed to convince you once he can convince you again. You do not respond to him, but he doesn’t need you to. He continues on word vomiting out his feelings. Drenched half in panic and half in fear that if he stops talking you’ll tell him something heartbreaking. Hoseok can’t handle any more heartbreak today.
"I know you’ve been in a lot of pain. I’ve known it since the first day I met you. But this self-sabotage- sacrificing yourself because you think your life isn't worth risking the rest of ours- this isn’t the way to do it. This isn’t the way that you get out.”
This is the question that you’ve been asking the whole time he’s known you. All of this is just trying to get out of the holes that you dig for yourself. The graves that you haunt. Graves of things that might have been and the things that should or shouldn’t have happened to you.
Your voice is so small and quiet, your palm in his tightens just a little bit. “How do I? How do I get out?”
"You can start by just getting off this fucking train."
You eye him like you think it’s impossible like it can’t possibly be that easy.
The announcer overhead is telling you you’re almost to the next stop. To mind the gap and such. The same way people mind children and precious objects. Mind the gap. Such a strange turn of phrase. How do you treasure the space between one motion ending and the other beginning? The end of one place and time and the beginning of another.
“How do I do it? How do I-”
Hoseok laces his hand with yours again and pulls you up onto your feet. The train is slowing. “I’ll show you just- follow me. I’ve got you.”
I’ve got you.
You do follow Hobi, you follow Hobi off the train as he coxes you softly onto the platform and onto the frosty tracks. It’s mid morning by now and the sun is streaming in that bright yellow way when he tugs you up the stairs slow. Slow because he still has to. His body aches from yesterday. Both of you are bruised and tired but together. Clinging to each other- his hand and your hand and not a breath of space between.
In the parking lot, there is a red car double parked across the lines closest to the stairs. Jimin and Yoongi and Jungkook are already standing outside, the doors blown open. Jimin falls into a squat the second he sees you. Head in his hands. Running through his hair and tugging. A cigarette discarded on the concrete bouncing before it rolls to a stop and burns.
“Oh thank fucking god, Tae would have fucking killed me-”
Jungkook groans and rests his head on the hood of the car, hitting it with an open-palmed slap. It echoes in the empty parking lot.
"That sentence is substantially less funny today than it would have been yesterday.”
Yoongi is just staring at you fists and shoulders tight. You watch him swell the closer that you walk. Every step made in trepidation. He's breathing heavy, eyes wild with panic and anger and his hair stands on end. His eyes are bloodshot and his scent is almost acidly salty. The kind of salt that guides metal to rust and break. The salt that melts cities. That crunches under your feet next to dark puddles from snowmelt.
When you're 3 paces away he seems to break, stalking up to you and jabbing a finger in your face. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again I swear I’ll-” Yoongi breaks himself off. Shaking so viscerally that it's hard for you to keep your hands by your side. but you stand your ground as Hoseok swats yoongi's jabbed finger away. his other hand tightly laced with yours.
“Yoongi, let’s just get into the car and go home- please. Let's not talk about this here.” The parking lot is mostly empty, but the danger still lingers. There’s too much to talk about. Moonbyul's name rings in Hoseok's ears like the subtle hum of hearing loss, like a high-pitched shriek. There are things more important than Yoongi's anger.
But Yoongi’s not done with you- oh- he’s boiling with rage. Shaking with it as he opens the door for you, every action, every little moment restrained. His anger is palpable. You get into the back of the Lamborghini and Hobi follows.
You can tell he wants to slam the door but doesn't. He shuts it extra extra soft but you flinch anyway. He gets into the driver's seat every moment controlled but tense, like he'll explode if he moves with any more energy than necessary, a firework with a fuse burned all the way down just begging for heat.
Yoongi waits for everyone to buckle their seat belt but you don’t, frozen watching him in the window and then the rearview mirror when he gets into the front seat. Yoongi doesn’t even get around to starting the car. Sliding the key home but the beep goes once, twice, and then a third time because you don't have your seatbelt buckled. The others wait in silence.
“Yoongi-“
“Fuck!” He kicks open his door again with a stream of spat explicatives. Slamming it shut this time. The others don't say anything, completely silent in the face of his anger.
Yoongi doesn't get angry. You've never seen him like this before. He wrenches your door open and for a horrible moment, you think he's going to yank you out of the car and tell you to get lost.
Yoongi's murmuring things to himself, so low that you almost can't make out what he's saying as he pushes himself into the backseat. The backseat of the Lambo isn’t that large. Hardly big enough to fit two people let alone four.
Jungkook lets out a belated “Hey!” at being squished up against the door but Hoseok just reaches around him and unlocks it for him to get out. Jimin is already out of the passenger seat and heading in the direction of the driver's side as Yoongi scrambles with your seat belt, jerking it over your shoulder and slamming it home.
"-Fucking asshole- of all the stupid omegas in the world I had to be mated to the fucking- dumbest- little- fucking-" The belt digs into your shoulder extra tight and Jimin starts the car wordlessly.
You're closed in on both sides by him and Hobi on the other. They switch and shuffle. Jimin pulls away from the train station, gentler this time but still faster and with more finesse than you'd do it. Yoongi is still looking at you, glaring, tears in his eyes with wet cheeks, his voice low and uncompromising.
“Give me your phone.”
“My what?”
“Your. Phone. You used it to call her didn’t you?” You nod after a second, slowly pulling it from your sweatshirt pocket and handing it over.
Yoongi takes your phone and breaks it over his thigh.
It’s a bit impressive really- the show of strength. He brings it down once and the screen breaks, winking out like a shooting star. Another and it bends just a little, a third time- and it's practically at a right angle. It breaks so easily in the face of adrenaline and anger and fear.
You make a small noise, not a whimper but a descending sound. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at you, wild. Like he’ll break even further if you complain. Hoseok’s not sure he’s ever seen Yoongi this broken.
"Just- There were pictures of Noodle and Tae on there.”
Fear and anger are an intoxicating mix to anyone- let alone someone who almost lost their person. He goes at your phone until its jagged edge bites into his hand drawing blood. Then he tosses both pieces of your phone onto the floor of the car like they're paperweights.
One of the pieces hits your shoe with a small metal clink, and even Hobi looks down in surprise at the sound.
Yoongi laughs and then bends over. Yanking the gun out of your boot. Small, shoved there. Hoseok didn’t notice. He's not sure why it surprises him- that you'd be armed. You're not an idiot, you know the risks, and you were armed the last time that you tried to run away.
He holds it out to you, long fingers wrapped around the barrel pointed at his chest. The handle facing you, the barrel of the gun level with his heart.
“You want to do the honors sweetheart?"
Jungkook’s worrying away at his lower lip, turning around, nervous. “Yoongi-" but Yoongi just holds a finger out, cutting him off. He's watching you, waiting to see what you'll do.
Jimin very gently reaches back and takes the gun from Yoongi. The beta lets him. Jimin flicks the safety off with a twitch of his thumb. And takes out the magazine one-handed that he hands to Jungkook before he puts the body of the gun barrel down in the cup holder where it rattles freely.
“Don’t fucking do that. we do not point guns at ourselves or each other in this pack.”
Yoongi hardly looks mad, he hardly reacts to Jimin at all. Jungkook's eyes flicker nervously from Jimin to Yoongi, then to Jimin's shoulder.
Jimin's flush sits on the top of his cheekbones, "Jin-hyung gets a pass obviously."
You quirk an eyebrow at your mate, not impressed in the slightest, not even intimidated truly. Hoseok doesn’t think you’ve fought since you tried to leave the first time.
“You didn’t really expect me to go unarmed, did you? Thought I could at least take one of them out- at least Moonbyul before they-” Jimin breathes hard through his teeth and Hoseok actually laughs, although he sounds a little unhinged. Yoongi runs his hands through his hair, pulling a little.
“I didn’t expect you to fucking leave me either but here we fucking are.” Yoongi has never raised his voice with you- he never raises his voice period. But anger and terror have made his words sloppy where usually they strike exact.
In the mirror, you see Jungkook’s jaw clench as Jimin accelerates home a little faster. Yoongi crowds you against Hoseok. Resting his forehead against yours, you can hear the grit in his teeth as he grinds them together nearly spitting, but it’s quiet.
“If you try something like that again, you will see a side of me that I do not want to show you. Do you understand?”
That makes you unnerved, and makes your lower lip start to tremble. Your “Yes.” Comes out so quiet that Hoseok is sure Jimin and Jungkook can't hear it in the front seat over the Lambo's purr.
You’re unable to meet his eyes, Yoongi has never been rough with you, but he’s shaking with the effort to hold himself back from screaming, yelling, crying. There are no words for you, no words that he could ever say that might hold you. He is so angry he can’t even fucking speak.
For a terrible moment, you think that he's going to hit the seat in front of you. But then he tucks your hair behind your ear out of your face so that he can look at you properly.
This is Yoongi's karma for leaving the pack all those months ago. He's come to know their pain so keenly, this was only a few hours of what they endured but still- this is exactly like that.
“You know- I’ve never wondered if you need me, but sometimes I wonder if you love me at all.”
His hand slides down your cheek, gentle in the way that he goes, and it hurts so much more than a slap or punch ever would. It stings. Everywhere Yoongi touches you stings.
“I know you don’t love me the way that I love you- I’m not that dumb, but-"
Your face screws into a whimper, and you can't whisper out that you're sorry quick enough. Yoongi guides your forehead back to rest against his. Still angry, still spitting the words like they take something from him. You should deny what he says and you want to, but you’re mute in the face of your mate's anger.
"How many hours do you think will exist between your death and mine?”
You’re silent as Jimin drives, but his eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror. You don’t see any pity in his eyes maybe because Yoongi, like you, had nearly left them broken. Had actually left and stayed gone. Yoongi will never quite deserve pity for words like those. Yoongi directs your face away from Jimin and back to his.
“How many god damn it!” He grips your cheeks, gentle, fingers that touch so softly, that cradle you, shaking all the while.
“Five? Ten? Sweetheart- I'd last 5 minutes without you and you won't even look at me long enough to apologize and you don't make it easy- I don't-
"Yoongi. That is enough."
Jimin is steely. Cutting him off before Yoongi can say something that he regrets and that he doesn't mean. But Yoongi won’t continue anyway. He's crying so hard he can’t see your face, can’t even see the way that you crumple.
He rests his forehead on your shoulder for the remainder of the drive. Pushing away your hands every time you try and wrap them around him until you’re crying with how frustrated you are. Keeping that one point of contact only, his crumpled face pressed against your mating mark.
He doesn’t want your touch- the touch of someone who hurt him. This is the first time that Yoongi has denied you something so simple, something so habitual as your arms around his shoulders.
Your pleas fall on deaf ears, your words come too late. "I'm sorry, i'm so sorry Yoongi I didn't mean- please believe me- I didn't- Please i'm so sorry-"
It’s a pity isn’t it; someone always has to love the other more. This is the oldest story, and there is no other story. Karma comes just in time or not at all. But right now? Right now it does not feel nice being Yoongi’s karma for leaving the pack all those months ago.
The car ride is mostly silent for the rest of the drive. The car has barely stopped when Yoongi scrambles to get out. The car door flings open with the momentum of Jimin stopping. The hood is hot when he skims his fingers across it steadying himself to round it and dash inside.
Your hands shake too hard to unbuckle yourself as Yoongi hurries, he almost runs. Hoseok gets out of the car, shouting "Yoongi!" but your mate doesn't turn around, doesn't do anything but barrel past the others. Pushing away their worried questions and hands to get inside the house.
The bindings on your hands are already bleeding a little bit, your hands chubby and swollen, and unable to see the seat buckle as you claw at it.
A warm chest hits the side of your face as strong arms reach around you. Jungkook unbuckles you, close and filling the backseat in Yoongi's absence. He holds you for a second, giving you a squeeze and a sideways hug. "Just give him a second it’s gonna be alright."
You stare at Jungkook for a second. Wiping your tears away with a curled fist. He looks tired. “I mean you’re literally his mate so- it's not like he can really...” Jungkook trails off, and the keys jingle in Jimin's hands as he waits. mute and unreadable, staring at the steps where tae stands with Jin and Namjoon.
"Aren't you guys going to yell at me too?" Jungkook snorts, and when you pull back to look at his face, he doesn't look angry, he doesn't even look tired.
"That wouldn't solve anything." Your face crumples further, but Jungkook just starts to pull you to the edge of the leather seat to hug you better under the guise of firmly setting you on your feet.
"What I am gonna do is make you go work out with me. I'm gonna make you do like- so many burpees in punishment for making me run that early in the morning."
You laugh wetly and Jungkook giggles, nuzzling the top of your head. Gripping around your waist to pick you up just a little.
Jin looks just as puffed up as Yoongi but so much less angry, wrapped in your big blue blanket like a cape, a corner pulled over his head and ears like a hood, his fluffy bunny slippers poking out below.
The wooden planks of the deck have dried in the winter sunlight and Tae is barefoot where she stands, silk robe too thin for the winter chill. looking at you with that same hollow look she’s had for the last day.
Jin doesn’t try to grab Yoongi as he stalks past. Namjoon sends a conflicted glance at him and then at you. His shoulders are pinned up by his ears, the scraggly five o'clock shadow he wears looks tear tacky. He looks at you for a single second but then heads into the house after your mate. You blanch, but you're not surprised that Namjoon needs a second before he talks to you too.
The pervasive sound of wrenching can be heard echoing out into the porch, and a look inside says that Namjoon’s got a hand on Yoongi's back where he's bent over the sink. Throwing up nothing because your mate had hardly eaten last night- worried about you and Hobi. You've never felt more undeserving of him, the guilt hits you harder than any words ever could.
You swallow at the bottom of the steps. Hoseok and Jungkook and Jimin behind you, hand on the small of your back urging you forward gently. Willing to let you stray more than a few steps away after chasing you down.
Jin is extra tall and on the upper step, looking down at you with an unreadable expression on his face, he places a hand over the back of your neck scruffing you smoothly and evenly until you almost fall, knees already shaky. Jungkook steps up and grabs you before you hit the floor. But Jin just stoops. Lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“When this is over, when everyone is safe, we’re going to have a long long talk about this. About why pups don’t make decisions on their own. Give me your phone.”
You can hear Jimin’s grimace in his voice, “Yoongi already broke it.”
“Are you angry with me?” You ask lower lip wobbling, tears drifting down your nose, “Please don’t be angry with me- please-” Jin squeezes the nape of your neck again, harder. You see sparkles in your vision- your body compensating for Jin's touch even though you're so tired you feel like you might pass out. You easily submit to the scruff, you'll do anything Jin asks right now just to temper his disappointment.
Hoseok grabs under your elbows to keep you standing. Between him and Jin and Jungkook- you’re a soggy little bundle of omegas. You don’t see it, but from the railing, Tae cups Jimin’s cheek.
Jin croons. “Hush pup. Come inside where it's warm. We've got a lot to talk about- mostly what we can do besides make rash decisions like that."
Hoseok's hand is on Jin's wrist before he has a chance to continue. Eyes bright with something that looks an awful lot like hope.
"About that..." Hoseok gulps, “We think we figured out how to get out of this Jinnie. I have to talk to Yoongi about it again but-” Jin tugs Hoseok onto his other shoulder.
“I think we’ve figured a way out of this.”
You sniffle where you're tucked against Jin's chest, but you’re right next to his scent gland when it swells with pride, sweet and milky. Jin runs the back of his hand softly over Hoseok's warm cheeks, and croons.
“Good puppy.”
~-~
The next time you call Moonbyul, you’re all sitting around the dining room table. The blinds are drawn and Noodle has been fed. Jimin’s collection of guns lay on the table in several neat little rows, the barrels of them pointed in the same direction like the legs of some long-dead arachnid.
A list of demands and a dialogue are written out in front of you but they're not for you. Jin and Yoongi will be doing most of the talking. You've done nothing for the last hour it took to hatch the plan other than sit obediently at the reach of your alphas. Willing to trade little 'I'm sorries' and the barest attempt at teasing after you'd gotten up to get a glass of water and they'd all flinched. Jimin had even gotten up and out of his chair before shaking his head and sitting back down. instincts reacting to your movement before his brain caught up.
"Would it make you feel better if you put me in handcuffs?"
"Only if they're the fuzzy ones."
"Jk- now is not the time.”
All in all, Jungkook and Hobi seem to be the ones who are the least angry at you for trying to pull that stunt. Jimin's just a little more tactile with you than usual pulling you to sit close to him at the table. rubbing over your knee. Fiddling with your hands and gently avoiding the wounds there.
Namjoon still can't look at you, eyes flickering away every time you speak. Not angry- but maybe still upset- still working through his feelings.
There are more important things to work through; the plan, the facts of what you know, a list with numbers sit next to your dialogue. The facts of everything connected with arrows and different handwriting and a good bit of doodles- courtesy of Jungkook and Tae (and you- when she'd prodded).
Your list goes like this:
Moonbyul is not an alpha (verified by Hobi) (ew it's so gross to think of you with another omega hyung)
Only an alpha can rule the family. (That's a little sexist) (I didn't write the rules Tae)
LEVERAGE.
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ (JK- stop doodling on official FBI documents.)
Yoongi hasn't spoken a word to you since he came inside the house and you don't expect him to right now. That’s hardly the most important matter at hand. Baby steps.
Baby steps.
You call her with Jimin’s work burner. The one he keeps in his car and uses exclusively for instructions about which murder and which target needs to be taken out. Moonbyul answers on the first ring and guesses it’s you before you even have a chance to speak. The others had unanimously decided that you wouldn't be speaking for this conversation. You don't mind sitting back for this.
Whatever makes them happy, whatever makes them feel better.
Her voice strikes a chill down your spine, now that you know that she's the one who hurt Hobi. It's her he sees behind his eyes on his worst days and it's her voice he hears when his internal monologue becomes vicious and self-shaming. You hear it differently than you did before; a cross between a snake's hiss and the purr of some dark-furred jungle cat.
“Any much longer and you’re going to be late pup, you know how impatient I can be.”
It's surprisingly difficult to not give her a piece of your mind. Your hands tighten into fists, your bones and skin all tight where you'd hurt your hands. But before your knuckles can even go white a big hand covers yours, prying your fingers apart so that your fingernails don't dig into the gauze, still bloody. You look up at Namjoon. He shakes his head, just a little, and you relax your hands.
Yoongi leans over the table so that his voice comes across clearer over the speakerphone.
“I think you’ll want to be patient for this alpha- or should I say omega.”
Hoseok holds the edge of the table hard, leaning in too. He's sure the hitch of his breath must be audible over the phone. But Moonbyul doesn't remark on it. Jin’s hand remains settled on the nape of his neck and you wish you were sitting next to him too.
Yoongi scoots himself closer to the edge of the table. On the side opposite from you. “The claws of an alpha don’t suit you, cousin.”
Moonbyul laughs and none of you smile. The tone of her voice shifts, a bit more serious. “They fit me better than they'd fit you. Let me see how deep your bite is or should I ask Hoseok? Is that pup there? How about Minnie and mommy?”
Tae folds her hands over her chest, affronted, but doesn't speak either. Your hand goes hard on Namjoon's wrist and he grips yours back just as hard. Holding out his hand for Hobi's across the table.
You open your mouth to retaliate- for the comment on Tae alone (you're not sure how Moonbyul found out about your nickname for her) but Jimin mouths across the table, “Don’t” You're all silent, waiting for her next move.
Jin's FBI training kicks in. Negotiation and kidnappings had been a course he'd been required to take during his orientation to the fbi. and his voice is measured and polite.
"I think we're past the point of petty jabs and assassin's, aren't we? Let's talk, pack omega to pack omega."
“You want to parley then? Make a deal?”
Jin drums his hands across the table. Nervous but his voice doesn't shake, not even a little bit.
“This has gone on for long enough. Let’s meet.”
~-~
Moonbyul comes in with the quiet.
The hours drag on in the space before she arrives at the house. The pack perks up in the direction of every errant sound or neighbor in your cul-de-sac. The sound of the little kids across the street leaving for Saturday morning sports, of the dull scape of someone shoveling out their driveway, the rumbling of distant cars on the highway.
It’s a Sunday, isn’t it? Strange, that this kind of thing should happen on a Sunday. Jimin stares out at the driveway, leaning against the railing, and thinks it must be some sort of punishment both wretched and divine. He smokes his cigarette, spitting the smoke out like he's burning, and shakes off the shivers of a god he doesn't believe in.
He finishes his cigarette, then he and the others and ready the house for Moonbyul’s arrival.
Hobi feels every tick of the clock like the beat of his heart knowing that she’s on her way. She’d started driving after Jimin had shown her a video of his guns being thrown into the river. A meeting without any weapons will be as safe as anyone can get.
But still- the pack isn't stupid. Hobi watches from the kitchen as Jin tapes the pack’s sharpest and largest kitchen knife under the kitchen table in front of his seat as well as Jimin’s and Yoongi’s just in case.
Allowing her inside the den goes against every instinct. To have their softest most safe place violated by the presence of someone who has hurt them like this. It's almost too much. But to have the upper hand and have this meeting on their turf is more than they’ve hoped for. So Namjoon restrains his growls, hand still held in yours at the table. After a tangle of so many hours and days of all this violence, the pack takes their chances for a way out.
You'd discussed the meeting happening at the house before you'd even called and agreed. Talked it out between the eight of you the idea location for any meet up. Only Namjoon was against it- but he's been overruled by Jin and Yoongi.
You’d remained mostly silent and agreed with Yoongi when it came to a vote. Warm big eyes on him, waiting for a hint of approval that never came. Jimin thinks that wound is going to take more than simple obedience to heal.
Yoongi doesn’t know what to think, or what to do. Jin and Jimin take over most of the planning as far as what’s going to be said and how. Everything needs to be carefully orchestrated for this to not go poorly. Everyone needs to be on their best behavior.
But there is hope here, on the edge of their scheming is a plan that might work- this might really work. You all might get out of this unscathed. Even Yoongi who’s never taken a simple breath outside of this life of murder and secrets. Who has had this violence built into his blood from the moment he was born. Yoongi was born a liar. Yoongi always thought that he'd live and die belonging to his family- at the will of their beck and call.
Now he's not so sure.
He feels like he’s hyper-aware of you, in your orbit the way an addict is always aware of how little or lot is left of a drug. Every twitch and movement of your body sets him on edge. But when you’re not watching- Yoongi watches you. Tensing with every step you take in the direction of the door, heaving a thankful sigh whenever you pass by it.
He tries not to touch you but it’s hard. He’d taken your shoes and locked them in the closet upstairs, it's silly but it's necessary.
His pulse is still beating so fast that it scares him a little. The mating mark at his hip aches with every step, he wonders if yours aches with every word or breath. Pressed there against your throat where he'd kissed countless times, where he'd nuzzled sleeplessly just last night. Breathing in your scent because it soothed him.
It still soothes him, even if he doesn't want it to.
Yoongi spends every few minutes bent over the kitchen sink or the toilet, the revulsion curling up in his gut like a snake dragging its teeth down the sides of his heart. You’d left him again, actually left him again. Yoongi wants to scream and cry but-
But there are moments of you saying you’re sorry- to Tae, to Jimin, and Jungkook- who stubbornly wraps his arms around your back like a living blanket and makes you stoop forward with his weight. Or Jimin who rubs his chin across the top of your head and jostles you with the aggressiveness of his scent mark, catching your wrists in both of his hands roughly in a way that almost- almost has Yoongi intervening. He's just clumsy and tired.
All of you are.
There are other moments of Jin lingering close, speaking to you in the soft stern way that has you deflating that makes Yoongi’s body hum in that mate way- that way that lets him know you need him.
Namjoon hasn't changed the bandages on your hands yet, even though there's a tiny bit of blood on your right one. Yoongi wants to ask him to change it out but can't make his mouth form the words.
Hobi watches you from wear he rests against the couch, pointedly not sitting on the spot that Jin cleaned of blood. Holding a bit of ice to his throat and sipping on water. Able to talk now- for real. Voice strengthening with every minute.
Yoongi pauses by his side and asks, loud enough for you to overhear "aren't you angry?" Hoseok doesn't miss the way your shoulders tense. You’re looking over things and talking with Jin and Jimin, clarifying something- some rules about the family that only you and Yoongi know of. There are documents on the table with the title FBI property- do not reproduce or take off premises.
He tips his head back against the back of the couch, Hoseok’s legs sprawled out, aching from running so hard and so fast and being so out of practice with it. Fuck- Hoseok is so tired. So anxious and so keyed up by the knowledge that Moonbyul will be here within the next hour. He yawns in Yoongi’s face without covering his mouth. His stretched lips full of teeth teeth teeth.
Yoongi feels his anger quiet even before Hoseok shrugs. "i don't know if my anger would make it better. i care more about making sure we all get to wake up tomorrow without feeling like shit"
Jungkook echoes the same sentiment on his way past. “Same like- I cannot wait to nest” And Jimin nods, blonde hair fluffing. Even namjoon's subtle agreement as he does the dishes makes yoongi feel...Not better...but maybe a little less angry.
Namjoon does the dishes, but you're his close shadow. They could wait- but Namjoon needs something to do with his hands besides holding onto yours. You still haven’t talked at all, and haven't apologized verbally to him for that phone call. He wants a wide birth and you give it to him.
Survival first- and apologies and forgiveness later.
"I think motive counts for something too," Hoseok says, looking at you across the room helping Namjoon stack dishes without being asked. "You didn't mean to hurt us when you left, but you felt like you had to." Yoongi swallows hard and feels like he's the one who's been choked in the last 48 hours.
If there’s one thing Yoongi hates, it’s how love makes you forgive. (Yoongi wouldn’t be standing in this house right now with the pack if love wasn’t this way). You could hurt me and I’d ask for it, beg for it really, as long as I’m still yours. As long as you stay.
At the beginning, the fact that Yoongi loved you more always hurt the pack, Jin especially. But watching Yoongi’s eyes follow your movements as you're asked to do some small remedial task to appease the pack, watching you do it with so much sweet eagerness. the pack find that they're thankful for it.
You say you’re sorry to anyone who will listen. And Jungkook's endless replies of "it's okay" make Yoongi's ears itch in the interim.
The moments and minutes stretch out long.
But about an hour before Moonbyul is due to arrive, in the quiet panic of making sure things are ready and just waiting, Jin tries to convince you to go upstairs for the entirety of your meeting. But as much as the pack doesn't want to admit it you might be the best at getting what you want from Moonbyul. They're prepared for you to be a little bratty about it, to push back a little regardless of the circumstances.
What they're not prepared for is Hoseok standing up in the center of the room, setting his icepack on the couch with a small crunch, before he says “I want to see her again.”
It's met with an immediate rejection, and a barrage of questions from the other alpha's, Jimin and Namjoon especially have their hackles raised. Yoongi actually checks his ears to see if they're bleeding. Jin quite literally grabs Hobi and shakes him a little. But he’s convinced that he needs too. He’s got questions for her that no one else can answer.
You had been the one person who had agreed with him. Some questions can only be answered by the person who hurt you.
Moonbyul isn’t stupid- she won’t walk into your den without a few face cards in her hands. You won’t let her come here without a card up your sleeve either. But aces are aces- a royal flush will beat 4 aces every time, and it’s up to you who wears the crown.
You watch the pack put on the air of royalty. Watch Namjoon recline at the head of the table the picture of Pack alpha ease. Scent blockers are applied to all of you liberally out of necessity. You rub it into Hobi’s scent gland yourself (You won’t let Moonbyul get a wif of him).
You watch your mate settle into his shoulders; neck held high. Putting on the same Placid but brutal he'd worn the first time you'd met him. That untouchable coldness that all members of the family wear out of necessity.
But Yoongi had never been good enough at keeping the warmth out of his eyes. Even back then.
Moonbyul comes in a black car, non-descript. She's driving herself today. No extra ears or extra packmates attached to her hip. Even Hyejin is absent and it’s strange, strange to not see her get out of the car with her.
It sets you off kilter when you peer out the window. Lingering until Yoongi comes close. Your breath hitches as his hands touch your shoulders. Urging you upstairs without a word, an unspoken heaviness in his eyes.
Regardless of what you'd agreed, now that she's here. yoongi doesn't think he can do this if you're not upstairs safe.
“But Yoongi- Hobi-“ Hobi stands by the door. If he's going to talk to her you want to be by his side. But Yoongi's scared, you can see it in his face and feel it in the mating mark.
You think you'll have a few more moments to sort this out, but Moonbyul does not knock on your door, she just lets herself in.
“Cousin!” she starts, splaying her hands like she’s about to go in for a hug but Yoongi does not smile, Yoongi does nothing but glare at her until her smile and her hands both drop.
Seeing Moonbyul again after so long does not feel like just seeing her photograph. For a second Hoseok feels cold, so so cold looking at her face. Her fair skin, her silver hair. Tunnel vision and the most dizzying mix of fear and anger and alpha posturing that he’s ever felt. His instincts yell at him, screaming in his ear that he needs to run, needs to get away.
She smells different, metallic and medicinal, different than her sweet omega peppermint smell that he remembers. It's stronger now- more musky. the scent of an alpha and not an omega. Hoseok wouldn't be able to pinpoint that it was an artificial change if he hadn't smelled the same sort of hormone shift on Tae.
He’s distantly aware that there are people in between him and her, you, Yoongi, Jimin, Namjoon, and even Jungkook who fluffs up, looking determined and like he’s about to unleash all 5 years of experience he has teaching kickboxing on her. (Tae stays at the back of the room- the soft and delicate fairy star child that she is- but even she subtly stands straighter, eyeing Moonbyul’s stiff black coat with the same air that Anna Wintour might wear while viewing a subpar fashion show).
6 feet away and every bit of his instincts is yelling at him to move, to run. His heart thunders in his ears like a battalion of racehorses. How stupid of him to think he was ready- that seeing her face after all these years wouldn’t hurt- that the fear wouldn’t be there- his breath hitches and-
She grins at him and Hoseok flinches.
In his peripheries, he sees Namjoon and Jimin start to say or do something. Hoseok had put himself- almost perfunctorily in front of you. But after a second with your hand on his wrist tightening, you put yourself between him and her. Stepping around him and Yoongi in one clean movement and blocking his face from view. Moonbyul just raises her eyebrows at you.
Before anything more can happen- before any jabs or warnings can be exchanged, a grey mass skitters across the floor. As quick as a bullet and twice as violent. Out for blood and the bringer of death.
Puffed up and looking large and menacing. Noodle yowls loud, a war cry, before driving his needle-like teeth into Moonbyul's ankle and right through the leather of her Louis Vuitton boots, ripping them with a vicious toss of his neck.
“What the fuck-“
Moonbyul startles, knocking into the wall in her surprise at your cat's viciousness. She hardly wastes a breath before she kicks Noodle clear across the floor.
You gasp and Tae makes a noise. But Noodle is totally fine, He goes hissing and spluttering, and claws his way right back for more not deterred in the slightest. He leaves gash marks on the shiny floor as he aims himself, back to bite her again.
You have no doubt that he’d be headed for bloodshed and her other ankle if Yoongi didn’t scoop him up from the floor and hold him to his chest. Honestly- Noodle looks more surprised at Yoongi holding him than he does about getting kicked.
“If you touch my fucking cat again, I’ll fucking kill you." Yoongi's deadly serious. No part of him joking as he says it.
It's barely 60 seconds in and this meeting is already going to shit.
Namjoon steps up and steps around Yoongi’s shoulder shoving the beta behind him as Noodle starts to squirm in Yoongi's hold. “Please, lets just get this over with.” He tips his head and gestures to the dining room table for her to sit.
Tae takes Noodle from Yoongi’s arms. Checking his stomach. Glaring at Moonbyul who does not grin, does not smile, only tucks an errant hair behind her ear.
The sound of chair legs scraping the floor is the only sound as the 9 of you sit in silence. Noodle stays in Tae’s lap, big tail swishing as his beady yellow eyes track Moonbyul across the room. Everyone’s silent, settling. Yoongi and Jimin are the ones seated closest to Moonbyul. You and Hobi are the farthest by Namjoon on the other side.
“Well- you’re the one who wanted to talk.” But Moonbyul is not looking at Jin and Namjoon and Yoongi- she’s looking at Hoseok- who can do little but look at her through his bangs. Skin burning when she looks at it. A feeling like Hoseok wants to hide and maybe shower until his skin falls off almost overcoming him and making him run.
“I didn’t want to talk, I wanted to get you fucking flayed out on this kitchen table and-”
“Jimin.” Tae cuts him off with a snap of her teeth around his name. Her hand is on Hobi’s thigh, holding him still keeping his thigh from jumping up and down under the table.
“The time for violence is over,” Jin says sternly.
Moonbyul grins, “is it?” she drags a sharp nail over a groove in the table. A spot where a bullet or maybe a knife grazed it, probably from the last few days. You wouldn’t know where it came from even if you thought hard about it.
“Some would consider the very act of possessing something that’s mine violence and you have two things that belong to me.”
Hoseok shivers, and you narrowly avoid snapping a smart retort at her. Jimin’s fingers hover around the knife under the table. Ready to wip it out and drive it clean through her hand splayed on the table. Ready to kill her in the next second if the pack wish it. He’s half convinced he should do it before she opens her mouth because Hoseok looks like he’s going to be sick all over the table and Tae is shaking faintly.
But then Jimin looks up, meets your eyes, and takes his eyes off of his target for a second. You shake your head a little imperceptibly.
“Some would also consider lying violence as well- how well do you think that the rest of your family and organization would handle the fact that they’ve been lied too?”
Yoongi settles, tilting his head. Jin and Yoongi are a dangerous pair when they talk through things like this. “We both know that all I’d have to do is pick up a phone and you’d be dead. You and your pack. If you kill me- someone will tell and you'll die. If you touch my pack again- I'll tell and you'll die. And if even think about taking my mate from me again- if i start to sense that you've tried to manipulate her away from me in the slightest- I'll kill you my fucking self."
She turns to you, mirth toying at her lips, "I got away with killing the beta once, what makes you think I can't do it again?"
Jin smiles at her, it's an honest and genuine smile. "The truth is- you gave us too much time to think. Too much time to figure it out and plan. There's a trigger clause out there. On a computer you couldn't possibly find. If I don't log in every 36 hours, an email will be sent with pictures of her recipe book to the director of the FBI, and you'll go down for it."
Moonbyul turns to you, narrowing her eyes, "You'd risk going to prison or being killed? Rather than be with me?"
You shrug. "You- prison- tomato tamato. And besides- I know enough- you made sure I knew enough to be useful to them. I'd probably land a sweet gig in witness protection."
Tae pets over noodles head, smiling at you, "We could call Noodle meatball."
Yoongi straightens, getting you back on track. "We'd also send pictures and evidence to the heads of house too; you'd have to take your pick who you'd want to deal with- them or the Feds."
Moonbyul goes quiet and for the first time but you know you have her backed into a corner with this. This secret- this secret is truly her undoing. She fidgets, settling herself firmly into the uncomfortable chair.
And then it comes, her concession, “What do you want?”
Yoongi nearly lunges forward with how eager he is to outline your terms. “Release Jimin from his contract. Let Y/n go and relinquish the bullshit claim you have on her. Don’t punish Jin for working for the FBI and never contact me again for my responsibilities as a beta. Leave us alone- never touch us again and you can have your empire. We won’t say a word to anyone about your true sub-gender.” He lays his hands flat on the table. "But lay a finger on any one of my packmates and I'll tell everyone what you really are."
Moonbyul is a manipulator first and foremost, and a good one at that, you don’t know if it’s honesty or a simple tactic when she turns to Tae and appeals to her.
“You’d let them do this for what? One female alpha to the other?” Moonbyul’s eyes are too empty for her to be totally honest. Jungkook can’t stop his flinch. She knows what she’s doing. How to find the weak spots in your conviction and press at them.
“One trans person to another? You'd let them forcefully out me? don't you know how wrong that is?”
You physically can’t look at her, you have to look away- and Jimin looks like he wants to punch her, jaw rolling- preparing to spit before Tae splays her hands on the table, chipped nail polish catching the light.
Tae struggles to find the right words. “I don’t know if your reasons are the same as mine.”
Moonbyul scoffs, crossing her arms. The mask slips at the same second. “Sure they are. You chose to become a woman rather than stay a man because you liked the set of qualities your life could have as a woman better. That's no different from me choosing to be an alpha over an omega because it gave my pack and me the most security.”
You know, you know in your heart that security isn't what Moonbyul's after, it's always been power, but Tae's scent starts to leak around the scent blockers, going sour.
Tae sits back in her chair. “That’s the thing- it wasn’t a choice.”
Moonbyul’s fingernails are digging into her arms in an effort to keep her hands busy. “Was it? You were comfortable being a man once until the risks outweighed the benefits of not being honest with the people you love. That seems like a choice to me- if it wasn’t a choice- you’d never have had to tell anyone- they’d just have known.”
Moonbyul has always had a terrible knack for finding people's soft spots, Hoseok knows this, and yet he can't say anything. Can't come to Tae's defense. Can't scream at her to shut up- to not touch Tae. To not find the weakest link or perhaps a link she can exploit.
Tae’s hands tighten into a fist and she swallows, before standing up from the table. Noodle falls to the floor with a jingle of his bell collar and an offended meow. Tae leaves the room heading up the stairs and leaves you behind. Done with Moonbyul and the conversation, A choice in itself. You follow her, heading upstairs after Tae with not even a glance in Moonbyul’s direction.
Moonbyul laughs and laughs and laughs, it’s a little unhinged. The pack stays silent. They just watch her. Yoongi settles into his shoulders and when she leans back in the chair and tucks her hair behind her ear, she’s still smiling.
“Alright cousin, let’s draw up terms.”
The family does things in old ways, a smear of Yoongi’s blood and Moonbyul’s blood on the bottom of a slip of paper and their names ink signed. A red seal printed with both of their initials. Paper that Jin will burn up later because what’s written on it could condemn them all. She also writes up a release of Jimin’s contract too- this one does not get burned. While Jin types up his resignation too.
“I’d still laser off your fingerprints if I were you.” Jimin is already planning on it. He’s not too worried about the loss of income or the family possibly rolling on him and using his long history of murder to put him in jail. He still has his other job after all.
In the end, Moonbyul leaves not with a bang, but with the click of the closing door, soft as all can be. Violent with the gentleness of her actions when she gets up from the table and says goodbye to Yoongi and only Yoongi. But when she makes to leave, she has to pass by the stairs where you wait.
You do not speak from up on top of the stairs, where you’d gone after Tae and left after she told you she was fine, that she wanted to be alone for a moment. Now Moonbyul smiles from the bottom step. Her teeth catch the light like the pearls at the bottom of the ocean.
“I guess it was never going to be us, was it?” Her eyes flick to the mark on your neck and all at once you’re reminded of the feeling of it;
Geumjae’s teeth sink into your throat, the pulse of your veins around his teeth, the feeling of his tongue hitting your skin and the pain and shock of it. Her smiling feels like that. Her smiling up at you makes it feel like she’s taking something from you.
“There is something in you that’s hungry pup- hungry for more than they can give you. And when they realize that- when they realize that you’re more like me than like Tae- Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting for when you decide that this is not enough.”
Your finger trails down the railing of the stairs. You don’t meet her eyes. “That’s the thing isn’t it, I do get to decide, don’t I? It's my choice.”
But Hoseok is there, between you and her, and there’s no one between the two of them. Not Noodle or the others although Yoongi gets up quick and comes over to his side. Both of you hem Hobi in.
“Wait- I just have one question for you- before you go.”
Moonbyul hovers, hand on the door. Almost out of your lives for good. You keep a hand on Hobi’s back, holding him, letting him know you’re there. You can feel the tremble in his shoulders.
“Why did you do it, why did you hurt me like that when you could have just left? I’ve thought through it for years but I’ve never been able to figure it out. Did you know that you were hurting me when you did it?”
“Yes,” there isn’t a bit of remorse in her face, none at all.
Maybe Hoseok is expecting something like this- something like this: “I thought if we broke you down, we might be able to remake you into something great”
“I didn’t need to be changed I just needed you to love me.”
But there is none of that. It’s infuriating and it will bother him for years later but what Hoseok gets is this:
“There wasn’t a reason, we were just bored and waiting for my father to give me the chance to transition.” transition into power or transition into an alpha? She doesn't clarify. She’s remorseless, nothing in her inflection indicates that she regrets what she did.
“You weren’t the first.”
Hoseok feels nauseous like he's going to be sick on the entryway floor. Hobi doesn’t respond and she leaves without a second glance behind her. Out of your lives for good. Leaving Hoseok standing there in the precipice of the door, watching her pull away from the house and staring at the empty driveway after she’s gone. He'll never see her again after today.
Namjoon gets up and opens up a window, clearing the house of her smell of peppermint.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying until you dab your sleeve at his cheek. Yoongi at his front and you holding him from behind, keeping him together as he cries and cries and cries. Jimin puts himself between you two and the door, a knife that he'd tapped under the table in his hands.
Jungkook huffs. "Should have stabbed her when you had the chance Minnie."
Closure escapes him, just out of his fingers. Hoseok wants to run after her and demand an apology. But he doesn’t know what’s better, an apology that’s hollow or none at all. No one talks for a moment while they watch her car pull out of the driveway and leave. No one says a word.
And then Jin gets up from the table and walks over to the kitchen. Namjoon follows him. Tae’s at the top of the steps, she’s changed her clothes from her PJs and washed off the scent blockers. Her hair hangs shaggy and messy over her glossy face, her bangs in a curly pink roller, and her skin pearly from her skincare.
She doesn’t smell distressed or upset. She doesn’t smell like anything at all but she’s wearing her favorite pink sweater. She comes close, runs her hands through Hobi's hair.
"I'll be fine, just give me a second I just need-"
"You cry for as long as you need to ho-baby."
"Yeah- cry as much as you want, use me as a napkin for all I care." your shirt is wet at the collar where Hobi burrows in.
Jin opens up the pack's liquor cabinet. Small and just to the side of the fridge. None of them really drink- but occasionally patients give Namjoon expensive bottles of whiskey for saving their lives. Jin pours himself a full glass of the most expensive bottle of it. No ice. He pours a second glass for Yoongi without asking.
It’s barely noon, but when he asks “who wants a drink?” Seven hands shoot up.
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Notes:
the very fist part of this chapter where hoseok and her are on the train was a part that i liked until final edits and then it felt??? idk??? clunky??? maybe a bit repetitive???? idk what it is and it's way too late to fix it T-T
this chapter is really an ode to what i originally thought of for bily, in the og version of this story yoongi was supposed to hate the m/c at the beginning for taking him away from the pack. i think his anger at the end is entirely justified- it's also like- his karma for leaving at the beginning you know? he might take it a bit too far in his reaction but tbh- i think we can cut him some slack for everything he's ever given to the m/c- all of the unconditional love.
i think that the train is like- a metaphor for getting better, or not getting better and keeping going on the reductive patterns that make you sick, because the things that make you feel better- like picking at a sticky scab- will only make you scar deeper. this is the last moment for the m/c, the moment she starts to heal for good.
the moment where hobi and the m/c are walking up to the car and yoongi is there i litterally see him puffing up like a studio ghibli charecter you know? or maybe like noodle whenever yoongi comes close.
honestly- the line where yoongi says that she doesn't love him like he loves her made me fucking sick when i wrote it like???? not me lowkey not giving them a happy ending. but i think that the part of bily thats always been fun to experiment with is how people sometimes people hurting you doesn't change how you feel about them.
did you catch the reasons wreched and divine refrence????
the line that yoongi says “Five? Ten? Sweetheart- I'd last ////5 minutes without you and you won't even look at me long enough too apologize and-" is very much a refrence to what hoseok says to yoongi at the begining of the series "You won’t even tell me now when I'm fucking dying over you, suffocating under the weight of things you just won’t say- and you don’t even care!” and i think thats pretty.
i think the yoongi parts will either make you guys feel vindicated or upset. i think it's up to you if he goes too far when he's angry- but i do think it's very human of him to get so angry like...the m/c is his whole fucking world...he will get over it! don't worry! he's just momentarily angry!
the part between when the pack call her and she arrifes felt really clunky while i was editing it, i decided not to take it down too much because i wanted you guys to feel some of their anticipation- but maybe it's too much. it's this kind of part that might get seriously paired down once i go back through bily and clean it up
"fuck this bitch"- noodle probably
noodle is like my favorite charecter i swear to god i love him so so much. i had the idea that he would be the only one to get some bloodletting in since the very begining of the series before he was ever written into the story. this is also the begining of them sorta being friends like- after this noodle is alot more tolerant of yoongi.
Moonbyul discloses that she has some pretty uncomfy views of being trans in this! i think it's pretty obvious that it's not meant to be like 'this is how all trans people are' and more of an effort to contrast tae- we are also talking like fake secondary genders here as well so- do with that what you will!
i also wanted to make the point with hobi and moonbyul's part at the end that sometimes the people who hurt you have no remorse, you don't get clousrure from them because they'll never admit that they shouldn't have done something. and the biggest closure that you can get is from giving yourself the strenght to let go. in a way- this directly contrasts the parts on the train in the begining. in order to heal a wound you have to stop touching it.
this chapter may feel like an ending in a sense because it is an end of all the mafia parts. truly- after this chapter we won't see any more violence or blood or anything close to the last 6. it's all happy endings from here <3 Thank you for sticking with it!
<3
#bts omegaverse au#bts a/b/o#bts x reader#bts poly au#bts gang au#bts mafia au#bts polyamory au#bts au#bts fluff#bts hurt/comfort#bts werewolf au#bts angst bts omegaverse fic#bts hybrid fic#min yoongi fic#kim namjoon fic#kim seokjin fic#kim taehyung fic#park jimin fic#jeon jungkook fic#jjk#pjm#myg#knj#kth#ksj#jhs#jung hoseok fic#min yoongi x reader#kim namjoon x reader#kim seokjin x reader
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Simon never really lets his guard down, hence why he volunteered himself to be the designated driver whenever they all go out drinking. He knows his limits and is by no means a lightweight when it comes to handling his liquor. Sticking to a glass of whiskey or two for the night.
They always go to the same pub, a small cozy place about 10 minutes drive away from the base. Each time Simon and Price watch Soap, Gaz and Roach get progressively drunk as the night goes on and egging each on about who can take more shots then who and telling outlandish stories. Overall having a nice night off base.
Price is always the first one to head out and go home for the night, telling Simon to keep an eye on the boys and drive safe when they’re done. Simon nods before turning back to watch their silly drunk hooligans.
Simon decides its time to call it a night when it hits midnight if the boys hadn’t decided any time beforehand that they were ready to go back home.
Two out of five times, Simon ends up having to chase one of them down and wrangle them into the car. Most of those times, it's Roach who's the runner. There has been a number of occasions in which Roach has gotten on the hood of the car and declared himself the roach king and refused to get down unless Simon promised to catch him if he jumped down.
Gaz is mostly cooperative and usually ends up falling asleep in the car so Simon ends up carrying him to bed. Its very rare for Gaz to not be complaint when it comes to going home, Simon makes sure he's tucked in and has a water bottle for in the morning.
Soap is very 50/50 Simon has come to realize, depending on who’s side Soap has stuck by for more of the night helps Simon figure out how Soap is gonna behave that night. Bewteen a hyped up Soap and Roach, they can find themselves in chaos a lot sooner then what Simon wants, often describing the ordeal to Price as like trying to put two rowdy over grown toddlers to bed. Luckily for Simon, Soap greatly settles down once they're back in the liuetents quarters away from prying eyes. It only takes a couple minutes of cuddling before Soap is out like a light, curled up against Simon’s side.
Over all, Simon doesn't mind looking after the three, a way to show that he cares about them and loves them each in his own ways.
#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod soap#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#kyle garrick#kyle gaz garrick#soap mactavish#ghost riley#cod ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#ghost cod#ghoap#gary roach sanderson#roach cod#roach call of duty#cod kyle gaz garrick#cod gaz#kyle gaz#soap cod#simon riley#soapghost#ghostsoap#ghoap fic#john price#captain price#price
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Hazbin Hotel Headcanons bc I'm obsessed xoxo
(Some NSFW is implied/mentioned)
-Husk was there when alastor sold his soul to whomever it was
- He also has no trust is alastor whatsoever like he's terrified of him but he also wouldn't trust him for his life (literally)
- Angel has PTSD
- But he doesn't realise he has it, bc he represses feelings and everything
- Charlie and Angel have a sibling dynamic
- They're pain in the asses for vaggie and husk
- Charlie reminds angel of his sister molly
- He also doesn't really like to celebrate his birthday bc it's not the same without her (unless he's shit-faced drunk and won't remember)
- Vox will make his screen brighter or flicker to get and hold val's attention
- Angel is Husk's lucky charm in gambling moments
- Angel genuinely did love val in the beginning and thought val loved him too
- Whilst Alastor truly does believe that a smile is a both a way to control the situation and hide one's true intentions, his smile is stitched on and he physically cannot remove the stitches as it's part of his deal
- Alastor is colourblind in the same way deer are
- Angel knows what they said about him in Angel court and he plays it off but it really upset him
- Alastor was a serial killer in his life
- He was never caught though
- Alastor plays static when actively trying to ignore someone
- He also plays music for the hotel to dance too, finding that he and Angel enjoyed the same music (bc of the similar time period)
- Husk once got alastor drunk enough to dance with Charlie and taught her how to Charleston dance
- Nifty is like everyone's child. You cannot mess with her
- Nifty will bring bugs to the person she likes most that day (usually alastor)
- Vaggie has threatened angel's life on many occasions
- Those two argue constantly (it's friendly tho)
- Charlie spends a lot of her time breaking up little spats in the hotel
- Charlie has nightmares about the time she saw alastors true demon form
- It made her feel super bad for him too, and she's offered to cut the stitches on his mouth but he refuses
- Lucifer is trying to be a better dad
- It's hard but he is actively trying
- He likes to hand out rubber ducks he's made/painted when people are upset
- Angel has a lot of them, bc he frequently seems to catch Lucifer when he's returning from work
- Lucifer is autistic for sure
- And his ducks are his special interest
- Lowkey he's also smitten by fat nuggets when he meets him
- So much so that when angel is at work lucifer happily offers to feed and look after the lil guy
- Fat nuggets once ate off of alastors plate, and that's the only time it ever happened bc by fucking god did alastor go crazy
- He didn't hurt fat nuggets tho it's okay, he wanted to but angel was like ILL DIE AGAIN BITCH TRY ME MOTHERFUCKER and pulled out some guns
- Angel gives Alastor the tea of what's going down with the Vee's when he gets it
- Mainly bc he hates the Vee's as much as Alastor and also bc Alastor asked him too and he's kinda scared of him
- And also bc it's fucking easy bc Val is a dumb bitch who doesn't know how to be subtle if he tried, Vox thinks so little of Angel that he thinks Angel would be too focused on the sex and Velvette doesn't care much for Angel either
- That's not to say that the Vee's haven't tried to get Angel to be their spy on the inside too, it's just Angel is like nothing to report also I gotta work sorry and just lies to them
- A wannabe patron once was rude to Charlie and lucifer decked them
- Everyone was amazed he had it in him to do it like that bc damn mans was pissed
- Let's just say nobody is rude to Charlie anymore just in case
- Also Charlie is also fucking terrifying when she wants/needs to be
- Someone called Angel a whore and tried to touch him and she went off
- Lucifer had to hold her back
- Fuck with her friends and she will kill you 😊
- Charlie cries at everything (good or bad)
- Vaggie is a real trooper putting up with it
- Angel was like "would you be like that with me if I cried all the time?" To husk, and husk with no hesitation said "fuck no"
- Husk treats Angel like a princess in the streets but a slut in the sheets
- They've deffo fucked behind the bar
- Charlie and Rosie keep in touch
- They have tea parties with Alastor
- Val is scared of Niffty bc she's unpredictable and bc he's not over what happened in the club
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel Headcanons#hazbin headcanons#charlie morningstar#vaggie#angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#huskerdust#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#valentino hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#niffty hazbin hotel#fat nuggets hazbin hotel#rosie hazbin hotel
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ALEXITHYMIA CH 5: detergent, thrifting, and cake
Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader
Chapter Rating: T (11k)
ao3 link, ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4
Chapter Summary: It’s his roommate’s birthday this week, and Carmy doesn’t find out until it’s a couple days away. Once he finds they’re unluckily spending their birthday alone, he makes it his mission to make their lonely day better. It’s the least he can do. Little does he know how much more he has to discover about them and about himself.
Tags: reader having trauma, carmy having trauma, toxic families, domesticity
A/N: It’s time… it’s time. I said last chapter was the longest…just kidding. THIS ONE is the longest, and it was hardest to write so far. The duo gets to have a lot of fun this chapter, though! arguably the most so far! A lot of domestic goodness and good food and shopping! Until… :)
also HUGE shoutout to @justaconsequence on tumblr for being my beta reader for this chapter! she was so kind and so helpful. this behemoth of a fic is too much for me to proofread on my own. anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy! can't wait to hear what y'all think!
Typically, by this time on Monday morning, Carmy's usually three cigarettes deep into paperwork, urgently (and poorly) calculating the sales the restaurant needs to make this week to stay afloat. Because even though it's a Sunday closing activity, he never seems to find the occasion to get around to it, and by 10 pm, he doesn't have the capacity to be crunching numbers.
Not that 8 am is much better. At least he's not dissecting the debt this morning—he's studying detergent prices.
“Why is this one, like, almost 20 dollars?” Carmy stops reading the price tags and glances over at his roommate, who's squinting at products on upper shelves. The lights are always too bright in this place. “And for such a small bottle…”
“Pre-mixed organic sulfate-free 100% vegan bleach,” Carmy reads dully.
“So stupid.” They shake their head. “Does grocery shopping ever depress you?”
“Usually,” he replies dryly. “Inflation is pretty depressing.”
“Don’t even get me started. Capitalism in general depresses me.”
“Hm, yeah. That too.” He sighs through his nose and tries to refocus. He's having a hard time processing all the numbers and letters today. “You see any unscented detergent? Somethin’ mild?”
“Um…” They crane their neck up and down, and then they crouch on the ground. They pick up a white bottle. “How's this? It's like, 8 dollars. It's not name-brand, but…”
“You know I don't care.” He kneels with them, huddling in close. They smell faintly of a sweet, yet musky perfume. He reminds himself to focus on the detergent, not the way they smell (even if it's far more interesting). “Yeah, this looks good. Thank you.”
“For your vintage denim, right?” They stand up to put the detergent in their shopping cart, which is barely separated with his stuff vs. theirs. He doesn't understand why his face grows warm at their comment, but it does.
“Uh, yeah. It is.” If the blush shows on his face, they graciously don't comment. “Although I'll admit I don't get around to washing them as much as I should.”
“You're not supposed to wash jeans that often anyway, right?” They lean their elbows onto the rickety cart as they push it, and he ambles along next to them, matching the slow, relaxed pace of their walk.
“Yeah, but I really…” The implications are clear. They fail in suppressing a laugh, and it makes him smile. “And I’m supposed to hand wash them, so.”
“Oh, so what you're saying is that you never wash them,” they tease.
“That is not at all what I'm saying.” They make an unimpressed face. “I do laundry, it's just…”
“Not often,” they supply helpfully. He tries to come up with something, but he's got nothing. “It's okay, I understand.”
“I promise I wash my clothes,” he mumbles, wilting.
“I know.” There's that new smile he's grown to recognize more clearly. It's this mischievous one they get when they’re teasing him, and it's so cute he doesn't have any room in him to get even a little irritable. “I've seen you do laundry maybe once or twice.”
“Hey,” he says, warning, and they laugh and run ahead of him, the squeaky wheels of the cart giggling alongside them.
After the night he almost burned down their apartment, he had felt different. It was like a switch being flipped, light abruptly filling up a dark room, and he's been squinting, struggling to adjust. But as he walks with them today, grocery shopping lit by blinding white fluorescents, he finds that he can see them rather clearly.
The connection between the two of them is tangible, palpable. It's workable pasta dough that's been kneaded to uniformity. The dough is malleable, clean, and when he touches it, sticky, glutenous residue doesn't cover his palms. When he catches at them peeking over their shoulder to make sure he's still following them, he chases away the urge to pull them into his arms. He throws the desire into boiling water in hopes that enough pressure will change those feelings into something more palatable. He's not sure if it's working.
Something happened when he hugged them that Saturday night. He doesn't dare name what that “something” is, but it's rising from where it's sitting at the bottom of the pot, just about to hit the surface—
“Hey, I gotta get some stuff in this aisle.” Carmy snaps out of it and follows them as they veer the cart to the left. He raises his eyes to read the categories on the sign.
“You bakin’ somethin’?” They both move out of the way for an oncoming cart.
“Yeah, was thinking about it.” They halt to a stop in front of the boxed cake mix and step back to fully peruse the shelves. He stands next to them, and they glance at him out of the corner of their eye. “You’re not judging me for getting box mix, are you?”
“Not at all,” he answers honestly. “Food is always better when made from scratch, but box mix has its uses. Besides, I’m not a baker.”
“That’s true, but I’m sure you still make an insane cake.” Carmy’s aware he can’t make them unsee his flash of a smile, but he still shrugs. “Sure, stay humble.”
“I try. What’s the occasion?”
“Ah, nothing much. It’s just my birthday.”
“Oh, okay.”
…And he's about to move on, just as casually as it came, but then the processing finishes.
“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” They ask confusedly.
“Is it your birthday today?”
“No, um, it’s this Thursday.” He exhales in palpable relief.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hates at how worked up he sounds.
“Um…” Their face is twinged with guilt. “...There was never a good time to bring it up?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be getting upset.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I just feel like I should’ve known, I guess.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. I never brought it up. Um…” Their hands are fiddling with the edges of their sleeves. “I just have complicated feelings about my birthday.”
“Ah, I see. I get that.” That, he can understand. “Is it all the gifts and stuff?”
“Kinda. It’s a part of it.” They lean down to grab a box of devil’s food cake, and that makes him remember that they’re in a grocery store. Not quite the best place for a personal conversation like this. They’re being vague, but he won’t press. Not right now.
“You shouldn’t be baking for yourself on your birthday,” Carmy mutters. They smile at that, but it’s different. It’s heavy with melancholy.
“It’s alright. I’m gonna be celebrating with my friends this weekend, just not on my actual birthday.” His conflicted expression persists. “It’s okay, really. It’s just a day. It’ll be enough of a present to not have to go into work.”
“Put that back,” he blurts out. “I’ll make you a cake.”
“Don’t you work?” Their eyebrows are arched in surprise. “You really don’t—”
“I know I don’t. But I want to. I do work, yeah, but I’ll, I’ll get someone to cover me.” He’s never said those words before in his life, and now that they’re out, he can’t take them back. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want to take them back. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Of course,” they reply quickly.
“Then let me do this. Please.” He has no idea where this courage is coming from. “I want to. I know I'm always working, but I really…” Their eyes are wide with wonder, yet watchful. It shouldn't make him falter, but it does. His heart stutters and whatever bravado briefly gripped him fades away. “I’m…probably being too pushy right now. Tell me to fuck off?”
“I’m not gonna tell you to fuck off for wanting to bake me a cake,” they laugh, easing his worries like they always do. “C’mon, Carm.”
“So, uh, is that a yes, or…?”
“Just so we’re clear, I’m not trying to ask you to take off of work for my birthday,” they start carefully, “but I wouldn’t object to it. So, yeah. It’s a yes.”
“Okay.” He can’t help his giddy smile. There's someone saying you look stupid like this, but he’s with them, and it makes everything else silent. “Okay, good.”
“You’re…being super sweet about all this.” He doesn’t understand why—maybe it’s the way they say it—but hearing that makes his neck go hot.
“I mean…friends do stuff like this, don’t they?”
“Only the good ones.” They beam beautifully at him. He hasn’t done anything to warrant their affection, he thinks, but the feeling of their smile is so warm. He can’t resist soaking in it.
He's glad that lady luck blessed him just enough to stop their birthday from passing him by. He's been itching for an opportunity to repay them for all the bullshit they've had to take from him as of recent (although he knows if he brought it up, they would say it wasn't anything worth repaying). They deserve something good from him for once, not panic attacks and nightmares.
He just wishes he could figure out why they were going to spend their birthday alone. He knows them a lot better now, but there's still so much left shrouded. He wants to know them inside and out—he wants to learn what makes them tick, what keeps them up at night, what makes them happy. He wants to know all of it in its entirety, to fill in the gaps in the puzzle he doesn't have the pieces for.
He has some of the pieces. He understands that their relationship with their family to his—distant, strained, and difficult. Unfortunately, that’s about it. He doesn’t know any of the specifics. It’s not like he’s talked to them about his family outside of the off-handed bitter remarks, just as they have, but he finds that this fact leaves him dissatisfied.
He just hopes that they'll let him in. He's not sure if they will, but…he's gonna try. He has to. He's sick of not trying.
. . . . .
“You want to take off?” Richie’s staring at Carmy like he’s grown a second head. They're taking a smoke break in the back. “I don’t know what sort of doppelganger bullshit this is, but if you’re trying to pretend to be Carmen, you’re doing a shit job.”
“Very funny, jackass,” Carmy mutters. “I’m being serious. This Thursday.”
“All day?” Carmy grimaces, but he nods. Richie shakes his head. “You’re being weird. Really fuckin’ weird.”
“I know I shouldn’t. It’s a bad idea, but—”
“Cousin, no, that’s not at all what’s goin’ on here,” Richie interrupts, and Carmy’s at a loss for words. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”
“What?” Carmy squints at him. “Are you being serious?”
“‘Course I’m serious. I’m always serious.” Carmy decides not to comment on that. “Do you know how many times I’ve tried to get you off this ship for just one fucking second?”
“As the owner of this place, you’ve tried way too many times,” he replies dryly.
“Uh, as the original co-owner of this place, you don’t listen to me enough.” Again, Carmy decides not to elaborate on that one. It’s not worth it. “Take the day off. I was running it fine before, and I’ll keep running it.”
“No, no, we’re not saying that, it was not fine,” Carmy starts, but Richie’s already flipping him off.
“Whatever, I already know, new fucking system and all that. Don’t get anxiety or whatever over it, that’s why you got Syd hustling shit your way, right?”
“Uh.” Carmy didn’t realize that Richie had even been paying attention to the new hierarchy in the restaurant, let alone respecting it in any capacity. “Yeah, she is.”
“Then it’s fine.” Richie blows smoke in his face, and Carmy swats it away with a glare. “It was fine when you came in an hour late today, wasn’t it?”
“You guys knew I wasn’t gonna come in until later,” Carmy argues, defensive (although he’s not sure if there’s actually anything to argue about).
“Exactly.” Richie sighs all of a sudden, a long one that sounds like it’s bone deep. “Carm. Let me be straight with you. You need to do this. Okay? No backing out of this one.”
“Why’re you sayin’ this? What are you sayin’?”
“It’s ‘cause of your roommate, right? This Thursday?”
“...Yeah.” Carmy pales. “How did you—?”
“Fuckin’ knew it,” Richie says, grinning. “It was obvious.”
“No way. I didn’t say shit.”
“You didn’t need to.” Richie flicks the ash off his cigarette. “They’re changin’ you, man. We can all see it.”
“...” Carmy can’t deny that. He doesn't have time to ponder on that right now. “Is it really okay?”
“Yeah, you could stand to have an attitude adjustment.”
“I wasn’t talking about that, asshole. I was talking about Thursday.”
“Yes, for fuck’s sake, it’s completely fine.” Richie claps a hand on his shoulder, solid in its grip. It makes Carmy’s eyes snap to him, mostly in confusion. “So what’s the occasion? Must be important.”
“It’s their birthday. I mean, I could just go home early that day, but—”
“Yo, if you’re gonna take off, don’t halfass it—”
“That’s not what I was gonna say. When I’m here, I can’t seem to find my way out. This place…it just has a way of trapping you in.” He doesn’t expect Richie to nod, but he does. “I know if I don’t take the whole day off, I’ll never get out of here in time. Not until it’s too late.”
For some reason, that makes Richie laugh.
“Yeah. That's it.” Richie shakes his head as smoke trails out of his mouth. “That’s just it, man. You have to make time for the things that’re important. Even the recitals where you have to listen to five year olds play twinkle twinkle little star 20 times. You can’t miss shit like this. Because once you miss it, it’s gone.”
“Rich.” Carmy wants to say something to make that haunted expression leave Richie's face, but he doesn't come up with anything in time.
“Don’t give me that look.” Richie’s hand falls from his shoulder. “I’m just tryin’ to stop you from fucking shit up. They actually seem like a good person.”
“Y’think so?”
“I do. You?”
“Yeah.” Carmy doesn’t bother hiding his smile, even though he can already sense Richie’s teasing coming from a mile away. “They’re a really good friend.”
“Friend. Sure.” Richie snorts.
“Don’t push it,” and for some reason he adds, “they were gonna spend it alone.”
“Huh. Sociable guy like them spending it alone?”
“I know. I didn't ask. Maybe I should've.”
“Maybe. I dunno, cousin. Everyone's got their secrets. Especially the ones that try to act like they don't have any.”
“You're strangely full of wisdom today.”
“Fuck right off,” Richie responds in regular Richie fashion.
“I think they're like me. Like us.” Carmy's not sure why he's saying this on a Monday afternoon at work out of all times, but the truth bursts out of him beyond his will. Richie's expression shifts into something more solemn, something recognizable. “Y'know what I mean.”
“...Yeah.” Richie claps his hand on Carmy's back again. “Shitty parents club.”
As Carmy stands there in the back, feet sore and tobacco in the air, he sees his childhood in flashes. He's five years old again and is following Mike around with scuffed sneakers and untamed hair, although he supposes that unruliness never truly changed with time. There's warm sunlight filtering through green summer leaves. He hears his mother behind him, somewhere, but maybe he doesn't.
He thinks of home, of his bedroom, and it is cold. He has homework he’s failed to complete again. It's sitting on his desk, on top of all of the other shit he can't finish. There's screaming, and he's not listening.
He blinks. He’s 30, and he hasn’t talked to his mom since Michael died.
“Shitty parents club,” Carmy repeats hollowly.
. . . . .
When Thursday morning arrives, Carmy ends up greeting his roommate with flour in his hair and eggs sizzling on the pan.
“Um,” they say, just as Carmy goes “G'morning.” They both freeze, brief awkwardness circling between them before it dissipates with their breathless laugh.
“Good morning. I didn't think you'd actually take off,” they admit.
“I said I would,” he replies quietly, but it's not accusatory. How many times had he said he'd be home for dinner just for him to arrive when they're already asleep? He tries not to make empty promises anymore. Nonetheless, he understands their surprise. “Um, I'm almost done with breakfast. I didn't get to the coffee yet.”
“Am I supposed to be offended?” They laugh. “That's the least I can do, with you doing all of this.” They sluggishly shuffle behind him to reach down into some kitchen cabinets. “It's a special day, so I'll even make us pour overs.”
“That's true. It is special.” He peeks over his shoulder, pausing from basting the eggs in brown butter to see them setting up on the kitchen island. They gently place the hourglass-shaped glass onto the counter with a light clink. He silently switches the button on for the electric gooseneck kettle to his right. “Am I allowed to wish you a happy birthday, or should I not?”
“Hm, I don't mind. Just don't overdo it, which I doubt you will.” They pull out a bag of coarse ground coffee and a filter. As soon as they open the bag, he can smell the sweet scent of the light roast floating towards him.
“Okay. Then, happy birthday,” he says as casually as he can.
“Thanks, Carmy.” He studies their expression, searching for annoyance in their content expression, but he doesn't find any. “That's not even really what I meant by today being special, though.”
“How else did you mean it?” The eggs are done. He reaches over the hot pan to cut the heat.
“Well, y'know. I dunno if we’ve ever had a full day off together.” They're carefully scooping grounds into the filter fitted on top of the glass, creating a small hill. “I think I managed to catch you coming home early on my off days sometimes, but never a full day.”
“Huh.” Carmy has to take a minute to think about that one. “Yeah, I don't know either. I think you're right.”
“Then, like I said. It's special.” They seal up the bag of coffee grounds, and then they frown. “Shit. I forgot to turn on the kettle. Can you—”
“Already did it,” he reports, pleased, and his sense of accomplishment only doubles at their sigh of relief.
“Thank god.” There's the familiar clicking sound of the kettle reaching the perfect temperature. “Just in time, too. Can you hand it to me?”
“Yes, chef,” he says, because it always makes them laugh. Today is no exception. He slides the metallic kettle over to them.
“So what delights did you whip up over there?” They ask. They begin pouring the almost boiling water over their coffee grounds in a slow circle, gradually inching towards the middle. “It smells amazing. I want the full break-down.”
“The full break-down, got it.” On two circular plates, he's carefully placing a fried egg, thick cut bacon, and a slice of toast with jam and butter. “Uh…it's nothin’ special, just stuff we had in the fridge. We've got a, uh, brown-butter fried egg with a little paprika, sage, pepper, salt…”
“Oh, just an egg made with liquid gold, no big deal,” they imitate.
“Cut it out,” he snips back, but he's smiling and they know it. “There's honestly not much to it. This thick-cut bacon was in the back, so I cooked the rest of it. And the toast is just brioche with salted honey butter and blueberry jam.”
“Carmy. C'mon. That's nothing special to you?”
“I mean.” It's not quite nothing, he thinks. “I can make nicer breakfasts, is all.”
“That's what you said when you made me garlic bread, and that fucking blew my mind.” They set the kettle down with a thunk. The glass is full of dark coffee. Prepped next to them is their favorite glass mug alongside Carmy's. He's not sure how they knew that it was his favorite, but he doesn't question it.
“I'm just letting you know that you should wait to be really impressed.”
“Too fucking late, man.” He's turned around and placed the two breakfast platters on the kitchen island, and they gawk openly at it. “Holy fuck.”
“It's ready,” he says, surprisingly meek. He can't comprehend why anxiety's hitting him now of all times. He's served acclaimed food critics, top-security government officials, and celebrities more times than he can count. Before that audience, he never faltered, but in front of his roommate in their crumpled pajamas, his heart stutters.
“Oh, wow…” They regard the food with undeserved softness. Like a punctured balloon, his anxiety immediately begins deflating. They're staring at the food like it's a painting in a museum. “You seriously didn't have to do all of this.”
“I know. I just wanted to.” He feels heat on the back of his neck. “Is…is that okay?”
“It's more than okay.” Suddenly, he notices their eyes are puffy, like they were crying. “Goddamnit, get over here.”
He only registers what's about to happen for one second before they're hugging him. Their palms are on his back, and the top of their head tucks under his chin perfectly. He makes a small, surprised noise.
“I, I'm glad you like it.” He links his arms around them, allows himself to rest his chin on their head. With their face turned to the side, their ear's pressed up against his chest, and he's instantly struck with the paranoia that they're gonna hear his rapid heartbeat.
“I haven't even taken a bite yet, and I love it.” They lean back then, arms still wrapped around him and head craned upwards to look at him. It's far too intimate for what they are, and Carmy hates how his heart beats even harder. “Thank you for doing all this. Seriously. I…”
“The breakfast's just a side thing, I'm, um, still baking you a cake.”
“What? You're doing this and a cake?”
“Um,” Carmy repeats intelligently.
“Carmy. Carmy, Carmy, Carmy.” Their words ooze affection, but surely he's just imagining it. Their hands are crawling up his back. “God, I could just ki—”
“There's the timer,” Carmy blurts out, because his phone's ringing and so are his ears. At the sound, they let him go, and he grabs two towels to retrieve the two circular cake pans from the oven. A toothpick poked through the middle comes out clean, so he sets them on a wire rack to cool.
He needs to focus on the cakes. That's the most important thing.
“Oh my god.” They lean in close to the cake and take a deep breath. “Is this—”
“Devil's food cake, yeah.” The heat searing his face is surely from opening the oven.
“You—how did you—” Their smile is luminous with joy. “You really pay attention to every little thing, don't you?”
“Sometimes. When it counts.” He fidgets awkwardly, nails picking at the sides of his fingers. “Wanna eat by the window, or…?”
“Fuck yeah I do. Can you bring the plates over? I'll have the coffee over in just a second.”
Carmy sets up at their little table first, placing the plates just right across from one another. The morning sun casts a cozy glow through their speckled window, streaking planes of light across the floor. He patiently waits and watches them pace from the fridge to the counter, splashing cream into their mugs. Through the transparent glass, he watches the white fizzle into the dark coffee, blending into a warm brown.
“Just a tiny spoon of sugar for you, right?” They peek over their shoulder, catching his stare, and he nods. He's also not quite sure how they know that, either. They've had coffee in the morning maybe a handful of times before.
He supposes they also pay attention sometimes, when it counts.
“Alright, here we go.” They bring a mug in each hand and set them delicately down on the table. He notes that his coffee is the perfect color. “Oh, thanks for waiting. You didn't have to.”
“I, I guess so, yeah. It's just, uh, you always wait for me, so…”
“That's—that's true.” An odd tension sets in their face, but they laugh it off, and it disappears. “I guess I’m not used to it anymore.”
A part of him wants to ask further by what they meant by that, but they're already taking pictures of his food so dutifully. He doesn't want to ruin it, so he eats.
It's nice to have a solid breakfast for once. He had taken their advice from the other night and had been drinking milk with protein powder. It was nice not to feel like he was teetering the edge by lunch time, but truthfully, it was a bit unsavory. This breakfast platter is much more palatable. It also helps that his stomach pains aren't active today.
Time rolls by slowly this quiet morning, and Carmy recognizes the oddity of it immediately. It's clear to see when by this time, he's usually already done at least ten laps through the restaurant. An irritating signal in his brain is telling him that he needs to get up and do something, not sit around and eat, but for once, he doesn't want to listen.
A memory from roughly two weeks ago (or was it one week?) unearths all of sudden. He was up early, drinking shitty coffee and sinking into dissociation. Mornings were lonely, as he was usually the only one up, but not that day. His roommate came stumbling into the kitchen, awake from a restless night. They chatted before he had to head out, and he remembers wishing he had more time in the morning to spend with them.
He imagined a morning just like this one, with pajamas, food, and messy hair. He daydreamed about having all the time in the world, and he thought about getting to spend it all with them. Now he’s sitting in that moment he imagined, except that it’s real. They're across from him in their wrinkled pajamas and bedhead, contentedly mowing through their food. There's a smear of jam on the corner of their mouth. He takes a sip of his coffee, and it's perfect, just as they made it for him.
This amount of good should scare him, needs to scare him, but he just can't bring himself to care anymore. He wants more than nightmares, cigarettes, and floating just above the budget. He wants this.
He tastes his coffee and reminds himself that he’s still here. The moment hasn’t passed him by.
“Is it good?” He asks quietly. It’s a rhetorical question, it always is, but he can’t help himself. He wants to hear it from them.
“So. Fucking. Good.” They have to finish chewing before they answer. “You always knock it out of the park. If this is the prelude, I don’t know if I can handle what’s next,” they say, gesturing towards the cooling cake.
“It won’t be ready for a while yet. You have time to prepare yourself.” That makes them smile. All according to plan. “Got anything in mind for today?”
“Nothing glamorous. I was just gonna go out for a little. Go thrifting, maybe watch a movie later. Smoke a joint.” They shrug. “Just my usual sort of thing.”
“Mm.” He dusts off crumbs from the toast off his fingers on his pants. “Sounds like a good time. You still wanna go?”
“I do, yeah.” They stare at him for a moment, as if processing his words. Or just him. “Do you…wanna tag along, or…?”
Whenever they ask him if he wants to spend time together (whether it’s grocery shopping, smoking, or watching a show), they usually offer it with an air of nonchalance. Carmy’s assumed it’s been out of politeness, restraining their expression as to not put any pressure onto him. That’s the person he’s used to, not this uneasy anxiety, someone afraid to ask him to spend time with them.
It reminds him of himself in every way.
“I’d love to tag along,” he answers easily, just as they’ve always done for him. “I’ve got the whole day off, after all.”
“Right. ‘Course.” He watches their little smile double in size. “I promise to not make you watch me try on clothes for too long.”
“I wouldn’t mind. I like thrifting, y’know.” And you, he thinks to himself.
“You do? Oh, of course—” They make a contemplative noise to themself. “Vintage denim. I always wondered how you managed to have so many pairs.”
“Once you know where to look, they’re pretty easy to find. I can help you find some, if you want.”
“I’d love that. I realized the other day that I don’t have any dark wash jeans, so—actually, the truth is that I do have a pair, but they’re so fucked up and old that I never wear them anymore. Anyway, I need new jeans. Think you could find some dark wash blue jeans for me?”
“If you’re willing to hit up more than one store, then definitely,” he replies, just a smidge cocky.
“I’m willing to hit up even two more stores.” He pretends to gasp, to which they nod confidently. “Yeah. That’s right. Maybe even three.”
“We won’t need three,” Carmy promises. “I’m better than that. Probably won’t even need two, but…” He shrugs. “We’ll see what they’ve got.”
“Okay, Mr. Confident over here,” they tease. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”
They head out after they both clean the kitchen and freshen up. Carmy gets the flour out of his hair and rewets his hair to revive some of his curls. He silently thanks his past self for showering the night before. With the passage of the morning cold and the rising sun, the afternoon weather’s become brisk and pleasant. However, the weather’s barely a factor in how he’s dressing.
Is this too much? Is this not enough? He’s switching shirts and pants in the mirror like he’s about to go on a date. He knows he’s not, swears to himself that he’s not, but he’s put product in his hair and cologne on his wrists and temples. It’s not a date, but he can’t fucking decide what to wear.
He sucks it up and settles on a gray sweater, light wash blue jeans, and white sneakers. From under his collar and at the bottom of his sweater peeks out a brown button up. It’s probably too much, but this is his sixth outfit change. He’s fed up with it and himself.
After adjusting the gold chain that got hidden under his collar, he steps out.
He finds them already waiting by the door in this thick knit cardigan and fitted plaid pants that makes his heart stutter. When they hear him approaching, their head snaps up from their phone, and their skin sparkles with touches of makeup.
“You look really nice.” He has no idea how he let that slip, but he’s more shocked that he didn’t stutter once.
“Ah, th—thank you,” they stammer, fingers fidgeting with the edge of their sleeve. He’s not sure if it's their makeup or their skin that’s doing the blushing. It’s nice to see them being the one tripping over their words for once. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”
“Oh. Um.” Handsome? It echoes in his head. He instantly feels self conscious. So much for being the more suave one for once. “Thanks, uh…I just didn’t wanna wear my work clothes,” he lies in an attempt to ease his embarrassment.
“I gotcha.” He’s glad they don’t challenge him on it. “Shall we head out?”
“Yeah. Where we headed first?”
They take the metro to their personal favorite shop a little up north. The metro’s surprisingly busy for a Thursday afternoon, but the crowd forces the two of them to be huddled next to each other. They’re both standing close to a pole by the window, each with one hand wrapped around the metal.
As passengers come and go, they step closer to him to move out of the way. Eventually it just gets to a point where they’re standing nearly pressed up against his chest. He tries not to dwell on how that makes him feel, but he can smell the fragrance they put on, and it’s very distracting.
Luckily, the ride is short. Any longer on the train, he might’ve put an arm around their shoulder, god forbid.
“If we can’t find what I’m looking for here, maybe you can show me one of your favorite spots to go thrifting,” they say as they enter the thrift store. The interior is decorated, clean, and lovely, and unlike the metro, it’s not packed to the brim with people. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s local art framed all over the walls for sale. It oozes warmth and excitement, much like them.
“There’s a ton of shit here, so maybe we won’t need to after all.” He finds himself intaking everything at once, eyes flickering from sign to sign. “I’ve never been here before. This is really cool.”
“It’s my favorite place to find new clothes.” They trail down the racks, finger flitting between clothes. “I hope you can find something you like here, too.”
“I’m sure I will.” He’s already walking to their denim section and immediately spots some contenders. “I think I already have.”
He’s not sure if they mean to spend hours in there, but he certainly does. There’s more than just clothes to look at, although that’s what takes up most of his time. There’s dishes, furniture, cds, vinyls, books, even electronics. He goes back and forth with them, clothing articles piling up in his arms as they sit on battered couches together and peruse scratched cds. Everywhere he looks, there’s just more, more, and more.
“Okay, I’ve gotta cut myself off,” they say as they leave the furniture section. They’ve sat on nearly every chair in that place. “I already have so many clothes to try on, and that’s not even including the jeans you’ve picked out for me.”
“If it helps, some of these are mine.” Carmy flips through the layers of hanging jeans that have built up on his forearm. “If you can believe it, I even found some stuff that isn’t denim.”
“I’m not sure if I can, but seeing is believing.” They thumb through some long-sleeves he’s carrying that are seeping out from under the jeans. “I’m just glad you were able to find some stuff for yourself, too. Not that I was that worried.”
He hands them the jeans he’s found for them, all dark wash and in their size. To his surprise, they also hand him an article of clothing for him to try on.
“I thought you’d look good in this. You’ll have to show me when you try it on,” they say, and it’s innocent, completely meaningless, but as soon as Carmy agrees and rushes to hide in the changing room, he views in the mirror and sees his flushed face.
Doesn’t mean anything, he repeats to himself, over and over and over. Stop getting in over your head.
He tries on his items of choice first. The first is a dark green henley that looked better on the rack than it did him, so he puts it in the reject pile. The second is a dark blue long sleeve that fits just right. It’s cheap, too, so it’s an automatic purchase. He presumes the way to word it is that it hugs him in all the right places, but he’s not sure. The rest are jeans, of which only one he decides to buy. A bit pricey, but for the brand and year, it’s worth it (although he basically always uses this reasoning with himself).
Now, for the piece of clothing they picked out for him. It’s a dark brown t-shirt that seems like it’s just the right length. It’s a muted, yet warm brown, a bit rosey in hue. He doesn’t realize it’s a v-neck until he gets it over his head and down his shoulders.
“I’ve never worn a v-neck before,” he calls out to the room next to him.
“Oh, are you trying it on? Do you like it?” Their slightly muffled voice calls back to him.
“Um…I’m not sure,” he admits with a shaky laugh. The collar is lower than he’s used to. It dips below his collarbones, and between them dangles his chain. “Should I show you?”
“Yes! Hold on, lemme get some pants on. …Okay, I’m stepping out!”
He hears their door open alongside his. When they see him, their expression snaps into what he believes is surprise and delight. He’s sure he looks somewhat the same.
They’re wearing one of the vintage jeans he picked out for them—dark blue Levi’s. Although they’re rolled up a couple times at the bottom, it seems to fit them just right. As he stares, he’s reminded of his many pairs of Levi’s, and it’s more or less like seeing them in his clothes, which is. Which is. Uh. Yeah.
“I knew that would suit you,” they say with a grin, to which he realizes he can’t hide his blush.
“It’s not weird?”
“Not at all. It looks good.” They tilt their head to the side as they openly look him over, hip cocked. Something in their gaze is making him hot. “No pressure to buy it, of course.”
“It’s different from what I’m used to, but…” He looks down, smooths the fabric with his palm. “It’s kinda nice, something like this. Um, and what do you think about the jeans?” He needs to direct the attention off him quickly.
“Oh, I love them. The others ended up fitting not quite right on me, but that’s how it goes.” They move from side to side, almost twirling. It’s cute. “I love these, though. Just a little long, but I’m used to it.”
“That’s how it always is. I can hem them for you, if you want. I usually hem mine.”
“And he sews,” they say, seemingly to themself, but they’re looking right at him. Embarrassing. “If you don’t mind, that’d be amazing. Either way, I’m probably getting them.”
“Good. You should. They fit well.”
“Yeah?” They glance back into their fitting room, likely examining themself in the mirror, and then back at him. “Okay, then. Definitely getting them.” With that and a cheeky grin, they go back into their dressing room to try on the rest of their clothes. Carmy follows suit, grateful to hide his embarrassed face.
Carmy heads to check out with the dark blue long sleeve, a pair of jeans, and the brown v-neck. They’ve decided on the pair of jeans they showed him earlier and a little purple tank-top he wishes he got to see on them.
“Will that be all for you today?” The cashier asks him as he checks out first. Even the cashiers here are pretty nice, he finds.
“Oh, their stuff, too.” He nods to them, who’s standing right next to him.
“Carmy.” They glare at him.
“What?” He feels himself smiling.
“You can’t do this to me.”
“C’mon.” He nudges them gently with his elbow. “It’s my present to you.”
“Oh, so the present wasn’t the breakfast? Or the cake? Or helping me pick these out?”
“Why can’t it be all of them?” He decides to stop this in its tracks and takes the clothes out of their hands, sliding it onto the counter. “Just these two, and that’ll be it.”
“Just you wait until your birthday hits,” they mutter darkly, shaking their head. “Just you wait.”
“I haven’t told you my birthday.” He pauses. “Right?”
“I’ll ask Richie.”
“No, you won’t.”
“You’re giving me no choice.”
“You could also just, I don't know, not ask—”
“I wouldn't have to if you didn't force my hand—”
“You guys are cute together,” the cashier comments with a smile, surely a harmless, meaningless thing, but it shuts the both of them up. Carmy can already feel the impact of it on his psyche, and he decides to tuck away the surging emotions to unpack later. At least, he'll try.
“You really didn't have to get those for me,” they tell him when they're exiting the store. “But I guess I should just be saying thank you. So…thank you.”
“Sure. I mean, it would've been better if it was wrapped and stuff, but…” He shrugs. “Had to get you a real present, not just food.”
“Not just food, my ass.” That makes him laugh. “It'll be nice to have something to remind me of this day, though. That's one of the nice parts of getting gifts. Everytime I wear these clothes, I'll think of you.”
“Good. Yeah, that's…good,” he finishes lamely. He nods like their words haven't flustered him, but he's sure they can tell. They laugh, and he can tell it's because of his reaction.
“I'm sorry that the cashier said that,” they say out of nowhere.
“Why're you apologizing? It's not your fault.” Any embarrassment he was feeling before is immediately replaced with a new, more potent sort of embarrassment. He was hoping they wouldn't mention it.
“I guess that's true. I don't know, I just…” They trail off. “Just hope it didn't upset you.”
“Not at all,” he lies, and he prays they believe it.
. . . . .
The metro is less crowded on the way home. They sit comfortably next to each other and watch the city pass them by. A part of Carmy mourns the closeness they had on the way there, but the other part tells him to get it together and keep his distance.
“I'mma take a nap,” they say with a yawn. Their cardigan and bag have been tossed onto the couch. The new clothes have been thrown into the laundry machine, and there's the muffled sound of running water. “Maybe we could smoke and watch a movie later, though.”
“Yeah, that sounds nice.” He peers into the fridge to check on the cake rounds. Just as he left them. “Have a good nap.”
“Thanks, Carm,” they reply sleepily. “Wouldn't be a good day if I didn't get to have a nice nap, after all.” With that, they shuffle into their room and shut the door behind them.
Carmy spends the next two hours flying around the apartment, baking, cooking, cleaning. The sun slowly sets as he goes. He keeps his body and hands moving in hopes that his head doesn't have a chance to catch up, but it manages to keep the pace. It always does.
The crumb coat's fucked up on the left, his first train of thought says. He inspects the surface, eyes following the circumference of the cake. There's a little loose crumb. With the edge of his spatula, he tucks the crumb away.
The faint smell of chocolate wafts up from the cold cake rounds. He's hunched over the kitchen island, hands reaching between dark chocolate frosting and cake. The afternoon sun casts harsh lights onto the cake, and it glistens. He genuinely can't remember the last time he's made a layered cake. He's never been much of a baker, anyhow.
You're going to disappoint them, his second train of thought interrupts, running parallel to the other one at full speed. Who do you think you are? You don't make cakes.
He leans back, inspects his work. The crumb coats are perfect.
Fuck off, he thinks back, triumphant. Look at that shit. He runs his finger along the spatula, picking up congealed crumbs and frosting. He licks it off, and it's delicious. And it tastes good, asshole. So shut the fuck up.
You're being a nuisance, the thoughts continue. Carmy's pops the crumb coats in the freezer for a quick set. They don't actually like any of this. They're just being nice to make you feel better.
They seemed happy to me, he thinks, but he's faltering. He's washing the dishes, and the sensation of the warm water feels distant. They loved the food I made.
Couldn't you tell they were lying? He doesn't understand why these thoughts are rampaging through his head now of all times. It's not unfamiliar, but it's inconvenient. Keep this up, and you'll actually be surprised when they drop you.
Without warning, a memory hits him . As his hands drip with soap, he's reminded of playing with Michael and Sugar in the summer when he was five. Or six, or seven, he's never quite sure. They were outdoors at a local park, and the heat made the metal of the playground searing hot to the touch.
He was blowing bubbles, and the sticky mixture from the bottle was getting all over his hands. In his memory, Carmy watches the way the iridescent bubbles floated away and left little circles on the surface of the plastic slide. He can't remember why he wasn't playing with the others. He can remember the sound of their laughing voices in the distance, gleeful and delighted without him. He thinks he tried to join in, but it didn't work. It often just didn't work, and it was all his fault.
The memory ends, and Carmy's finished washing the dishes.
This is working, he thinks to himself. His hands are dried out from the hot water and soap. I swear to you, it's working. So just stop. Okay?
There's no response. Good enough.
He hears the door opening as soon as he's putting the finishing touches on the cake. With a damp paper towel, he carefully swipes away stray drops of frosting that fell onto the cake stand. He thinks it's best described as if a tiramisu was turned into a devil's food cake. It's not the best cake he's ever made, but it's definitely up there in terms of looks. All the components of the cake tasted good separately, so he hopes it makes sense in his mouth as much as it did in his head.
“Have a nice nap?” He asks before he turns his head. They're standing in the hallway, bed hair hastily tied back.
“Sorta. It was okay.” Their eyes are glued onto the cake as they walk up to the island. “Is this…?”
“This is for you, yeah,” he finishes for them. They take a seat on one of the chairs at the island. “It's a, uh, devil's food cake with vanilla mascarpone cream on the inside. The outside's this coffee buttercream…” He trails off, not knowing what else to say. He could mention the dutch processed cocoa powder, the expensive vanilla bean pods, or the endless sifting, but it feels too gratuitous.
“Wow…” They're still staring, as if it's not quite real to them. “I can't believe this is for me. It almost looks too pretty to eat, but you know I can't wait to tear into this.”
“We could, uh, have it now, if you, if you want,” he says hesitantly.
“I don't know if I could wait.” Their smile grows wider. “You even put candles on it?”
“We don't have to light them or anything if you don't want to,” he adds quickly.
“The candles are the fun part. I don't mind that. The song is…okay I guess, but…” They give him an expectant, excited look. “Were you gonna sing for me?”
“...Only if you wanted to,” he mumbles, suddenly stricken with embarrassment.
“Would that be okay? If I wanted that?”
“I wouldn't mind.” Not if it's you.
“Okay. Then, yeah.” They pull out a lighter from their pocket. “I’d really like that.”
Carmy cuts the overhead lights before taking out his own lighter to help them light the rest of the candles. One by one, the dark room gradually illuminates until it's filled with a warm, orange glow. The flickering flames cast shifting shadows onto their smiling face and reflect into their glossy eyes.
“Ready?” He asks quietly.
“I'm ready,” they whisper.
Carmy doesn't really need to clear his throat, but he does so anyway. He can't recall the last time he sang happy birthday to anyone, let alone by himself. This is the first time he's ever sung in front of an audience, too.
I can do this, he thinks to himself. I can do this.
His voice is awkward and scratchy. He never uses it like this, has never sang for anyone in his life. His ears burn, and he hates the sound of his voice, but he reminds himself to focus on their delighted little smile and warm gaze. The room is far too quiet for his voice, making the words painfully clear.
“Happy birthday to you,” he finishes singing, voice trailing off awkwardly. He's more than ready to finish singing now. “Uh, make a wish…?”
“Right.” The two of them sit in the flickering candle light for a moment longer, the silence thick. Carmy watches their face, their eyes boring into the candles with an expression he can only describe as longing. Then, they blow out the candles with a decisive blow, and the room goes dark.
He moves to switch on the lights. When he turns back to look at them, tears are streaming down their face.
“Hey,” he says softly. He props his elbows on the counter, standing across from them and tilting his head to the side. They're not meeting his gaze, glazed eyes boring into the dripping candles. “What's wrong?”
“I'm sorry,” they whisper with a sniffle, and it sounds like a reflex. Something about them suddenly seems so much smaller. “I shouldn't be crying.”
“It's okay. I don't mind.” That makes them smile, even if it's shaky. “Was the singing too much?”
“No, it wasn't your singing,” they say with a laugh. “Your singing was lovely. It's just—I'm so happy. You made today so special.”
“Yeah?” He fights the urge to reach over and wipe their tears. “I'm glad. I wanted to make it good. I…” He hesitates. “...I didn't like the idea of you spending it alone.”
“I didn't either. And I thought I was going to have to be alone…but then you—then you took off work, and you made me breakfast, you went shopping with me—even got me clothes—and now this—” Another rush of tears gushes from their eyes, and they hastily wipe at it with their shirt.
“You've done way more for me. This is the least I could do.” Before he can stop himself, his hand is brushing hair out of their eyes. They freeze for a split second, eyes finally flickering up towards him. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“It's okay,” they whisper back. “Um…” They let out a shaky sigh, the sort of trembling sound that happens after crying too much. “I feel like I should explain.”
“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he assures them quickly, “but I…I'd like to know. If that's okay.”
“I want you to know. I, I do.” They open their mouth to keep talking, but shaky breaths continue to stifle them. It's hard to watch.
“Breathe,” he reminds them, quietly. He visibly takes in a deep breath, silently encouraging them to breathe with him. They follow suit, closing their eyes and taking a slow breath. Tears slip silently from their eyes. Gradually, their breathing becomes less of a staccato, evening out into something much more manageable.
“Thank you,” they murmur. He nods. They already sound a lot calmer. “I'm not sure where to start. I…I suppose I'll start with today.” Another deep breath. “I didn’t get a call from my parents today.”
“Ah…” The first missing piece.
“I knew they weren’t going to. But a part of me still hoped…” They stop and shake their head. “It's the first year that it's been like this.”
“What happened?”
“Uh…I went no contact with my family about a year ago.” Another pained, hollow laugh. The second piece. “I didn't even really want to—it was a complicated, shitty situation. My parents were being their usual shitty selves, and I just wanted them to apologize. It was over such a small thing, and, and I just…I don't know. I thought maybe I could fix things.” He's never seen them with such a heavy expression, etched with such weariness. “I just wanted them to apologize to me, Carm. That's all I wanted. And then they cut me off cold.”
Their voice is trembling again, and the tears are falling faster. The collar of their shirt is dark with moisture. Carmy hates that he doesn't know what to say. He hates just staring at them, silent as he tries to find the words.
Suddenly, he thinks of Michael.
“Michael never let me work in the restaurant,” he tells them. “That's why I went to culinary school. A big part of it, anyway. He just cut me off, didn't let me in no matter what I did, and it was…” He makes a vague hand gesture. “I felt insane. I was so fucking angry. I couldn't understand him. And I'm not saying that's anything like what you've been through, but…” He looks into their watchful eyes. “I'm sorry. I think I'm trying to say that I, that I understand. A little.”
“I…I appreciate that.” They give him a small, wobbly smile. He adores their smile, but seeing it through their tears twists something painfully in his chest. “He would've been lucky to have you. You're an excellent chef.”
“I am now, anyway.” He sighs. “Your family's missing out on you, too. You're…” Say it. Just say it. “You're a really wonderful person. I can't imagine…”
I can't imagine anyone looking at you and not loving what they see, he thinks suddenly, and he instantly realizes he can't say it. He can barely even comprehend that he just thought it.
He can't process this right now. This isn't the time.
“I keep trying to wrap my head around it all, wondering what I did wrong, what I could've done better… Sometimes, the conclusion I arrive at is that I must have done something to deserve this. That I just, I don't know, that maybe I'm just this permanent fuck-up, and…” They run a tired hand over their wet face, through their hair. “My parents fucked me up real good, man.”
There's something familiar about their words, and Carmy realizes it's because it sounds like him. He would've never guessed that under their easy-going smiles was a reflection of himself. He recognizes himself in their self-deprecation, the bone-deep pain. There was always a sense of sympathetic connection between the two of them, but he had no idea. He had no idea how far deep the mutual experiences went.
A part of him still can't believe that this is the truth, that this is what lies at their core, but then he remembers. He thinks about the night they were throwing up into the toilet. They were sobbing, crying into his shoulder about how much they hate themself.
“You know you didn't deserve it. Right?” Carmy's not sure when they started leaning in so close to each other. He's looking at their wet eyelashes with startling clarity. “You did all you could.”
“You don't know that.” Their words are so soft-spoken, but it still catches him off guard. “You don't know what happened.”
“You—” Irritation prickles inside him, his instincts itching to snap back, but he doesn't. He sees himself in them, and he holds back. “You're right. I don't know what happened. But I know you.” The shock is on their face as clear as day. “At least, I think I do.”
“I want to think you do, too,” they whisper. “But this—this messy bullshit is also me. I wish it wasn't. I wish you didn't have to see all this. I…don't want you to…think any less of me.”
“I don't think there's anything you could do to make me think less of you.” He doesn't resist dragging his thumb across a stray tear on their cheek. To his surprise, they lean into his touch. “Y'know when I almost burned down the apartment?”
“Oh my god.” They smile, and he feels their grinning cheek against his palm. “Yeah. Is it crazy to say I remember it fondly?”
“A little bit.” They laugh. It's quiet, but it's real. “Remember that talk we had after?”
“I do. Why?”
“You're allowed to mess up on onions,” he says softly. “It won't push me away.”
They stare at him for what feels like a long time. Their eyes refill with tears, but they don't spill. With a clammy hand, they shakily place their hand on top of his hand that's still cradling their wet cheek.
“Fucking onions,” they say finally with a wet laugh. Fresh tears drip onto his thumb, and he wipes them away again. As many times as it takes. “God damnit, Carmy.”
“No one deserves to have shitty parents, let alone ones that walk out on them.” He thumbs away more tears. “You being an imperfect person like everyone else doesn't justify that.”
“There must be something more I could've done,” they whisper. “Something I did wrong.”
“Maybe. But they're your parents, not the other way around. It's not your fault.”
“I know. I know that. I do. There just has to be a reason, because—fuck—the truth would just be too fucked up.”
“...And that is?”
It takes a long, still minute before they can get their words out.
“...It’s—it's that—” Their cries are verging on sobs, increasingly more staggered and uncontrollable. “It's that s-some kids—are just—some kids have parents that will never—never love—”
They can't finish. Their sobs have overtaken their whole body. Their body's hunched over the counter, curled into themself. Carmy can't think of a time where he's ever seen them crying so hard.
Without another word, Carmy pulls them into a hug.
They cry for a long time. Through it all, fleeting condolences pass Carmy by in his head, but they all feel too cheap, too meaningless. So all he does is hold them tight, letting them grab onto his shirt and soak the fabric on his shoulder. It's all he feels he can really do.
After a while, the tide subsides. He feels them wilting in his arms, exhausted from sobbing so violently. He doesn't actually want to let them go, but their sniffling nose sounds like it's completely stopped up.
“I'm gonna get you some tissues, ok?” He says quietly. They make a quiet noise of acknowledgement, and they pull back. He snatches up a box of tissues from the coffee table. He places it in front of them before grabbing them a glass of water.
“Thank you,” they mumble, voice scratchy. Carmy stands and watches as they blow through several tissues. The water gets downed instantaneously.
“Better?”
“Yeah. A lot better.”
“Good.”
“...I think, deep down, I know I didn't deserve what happened. Or just having shitty parents in general.” They sigh. “It's just easier to think that I do. That I deserve it.”
“...Yeah.” That resonates with a part of him he's not quite ready to acknowledge. “You're one of the kindest people I've ever met,” he admits quietly. “If someone like you deserves a shitty hand in life, I'm fucked.”
“Carmy…” Their smile is small, but genuine. “Thank you. I want to be able to genuinely believe that, one day. I'm going to try.”
“I know. I get it.”
“I know you do.”
That makes both of them smile, even if it's bitter.
“Thanks for telling me. About everything.”
“No, thank you for listening. For just being there for me.” They prop their chin in their hands, their elbows resting on the counter. “Y'know, this past year, I've been trying to find a sense of joy in all this mess. Sometimes it just feels so far away, like…like any happiness is just impossible. But I think I've found it. Rather, I've already found it.”
“Yeah?” Carmy looks at them expectantly, but he never expected this—
“I found you,” they tell him.
“...” He immediately fixes his shocked expression. He's at a loss for words.
Me?
“I never found a chance to mention it, but…my parents are the reason I decided to live with you. That's why I wanted to be your roommate, even though we were strangers.” They shrug shyly. “My lease was up on my last place. I was gonna go home, but then all that stuff happened at the last minute, and…yeah. I needed to find a place to live.”
“Seriously?” They just nod. “Damn. Uh…Yeah, that's fucking crazy. I had no idea.”
“At the time, I was miserable. I kept thinking to myself, ‘I can't believe how shitty this situation is!’ Don't get me wrong, it was fucking awful, but…it led me to you, so…it wasn't really all that bad, in the end. I got lucky.”
Fucking hell, he thinks to himself. Fuck.
“If you hadn't roomed with me, I wouldn't have been able to come back home for my brother's restaurant,” he says, mostly because he's so embarrassed that he swears his whole body's red at this point. Don't think about it. Don't think about it. “I think I'm the lucky one.”
“Can't we both be lucky?”
“I guess we can. Just doesn't seem very realistic.”
“Little too late to say that. It's already real.”
“...There's no other shoe?”
“Not that I know of. I think the other shoe's already dropped for us a while ago. Surely there's no other shoes left?”
“I hope not. I don't know if I could take another one.”
“Me neither.”
“...”
“...”
“Do you…want to eat your cake now?”
“Fuck, oh my god—I completely forgot! Yes!”
Just as Carmy planned, the flavors go perfectly together. Even though he knew it was going to be delicious, when he takes the first bite of the cake, relief washes over him. They seem to be overjoyed, inhaling the cake at dangerous speeds.
“You're gonna hurt yourself if you eat that fast,” he observes, both amused and concerned.
“Can't talk. Need to eat this.” That makes him laugh so abruptly he nearly gets cake up his nose. “This is the best birthday cake I've ever had, both visually and taste-wise.”
“I'm glad. Like I said, I'm not really a baker, but…I make an alright cake.”
“You make a fantastic cake.” They’ve got a bit of frosting on the corner of their mouth. “It doesn't get much better than this—eating a cake made by you.”
“Because I'm a chef, you mean?”
“No, not that. Not just that, anyway,” they amend with a cheeky grin. “Because you're my best friend.”
You're my best friend.
…
I'm their best friend, he repeats to himself. I'm their best friend.
He thinks about crying. He won't cry, but he thinks about it.
“Oh,” he replies intelligently. “...Really?”
“Y-Yeah. Unless, uh, you don't—”
“You're my best friend too,” he blurts out, and the anxiety on their face fades away into a relieved, beautiful smile.
“Thank god. That would've been pretty awkward if you didn't…” They shake their head.
“I've never been anyone's best friend before,” he confesses.
“Seriously?” They recover from the shock quickly. “Lucky me, then.”
“I thought you established we were both the lucky ones.”
“Oh, right.” They chuckle. “Lucky both of us, then.”
Carmy thought that life would always be the same. He thought that he was fated to a routine of nausea and nightmares, never quite close enough to reach a rest point. He thought that he was okay with it being his fate, because he never knew anything else.
He thought that loneliness, cigarettes, and memories would be enough, because it always stays the same. Nothing ever changes.
Until them.
He thought he had outgrown happiness, that his body had grown accustomed to living without it. That there was no longer space in his heart to withstand the weight of joy. But as he sits here with his roommate, chatting and laughing over a cake he made for them, he finds that's not true.
His capacity for happiness had never left. It had been there all along.
And with that, something in him lets go.
Carmy sees it all at once. It starts from the beginning—he sees the first day he met them, an initially hesitant meeting gone surprisingly well. He sees the first time the two of them smoked together, deliriously laughing through shared smoke. He sees them in the mornings, messy hair and wrinkled t-shirts. He sees them in nothing but an apron. He sees them in tight black clothes that leave little to the imagination. He sees them laughing at a joke that he didn’t think was all that funny.
He sees them in his dreams, red tomato puree bleeding from their gums. He sees them holding his trembling hands in theirs, soothing him back down from the storm in his hand. He sees them comforting him through his tears. He sees them sobbing, hot tears on their cheek and his hand. He sees them heaving into the toilet, whispering that they want to know him. He sees himself, embracing them tightly in his arms.
He sees it all. He knows that he can't avoid it anymore.
Carmy is completely, undeniably in love with them, and there is absolutely nothing that he can do to make that realization disappear.
…Some things, he understands, refuse to stay the same.
~
@zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @carmenbrzatto @thehouseofevangelista
#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear#jeremy allen white#carmen berzatto x you#carmy berzatto x you#the bear fanfiction#carmy berzatto imagines#carmy the bear#the bear fx#my fics#alexithymia fic#GOD. IT'S FINALLY HERE. THIS ONE'S A BEAST.#ch 6 is gonna be the climax..... it's gonna happen yall. it's finally here. hahahaha#anyway this one took so long to write because it was so revealing for me... as i'm sure yall have guessed. sigh.
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Twst boys with an artist reader
Riddle- it's not uncommon for him to see you doodling in class when nothing is really happening. He knows it's rude to peep into someone else's business but he raised an eyebrow when he saw some doodles for grim and a nice sketch of him, it wasn't life like but it was pretty. There were some crude doodles of him yelling at Ace and Duece, but to his credit you also made them ugly as well.
Ace- Ace is always bored in class but luckily he has you for entertainment, you two would sit next to each other as you draw some funny scenarios play out, like drawing Riddle tripping over his heels, Deuce making a face and other friends of yours with over the top expressions to the point Ace would have to clutch the table not to laugh. He saves a few of them to show to the other first years though.
Deuce- like Riddle Deuce would often glance at what you're drawing, he's some what impressed with how your drawings are. He'd notice sticky notes stuck on his desk, it range from those cringy motivation quotes with a cute little drawing of an animal, a sketch of him and the first years doing activities or doodles of him. He actually has a scrap book of them that he shows his mom during the holidays.
Cater- He was the type of person to ask if you could or draw him, surprisingly you said yes....that was a week ago, he guess you for got about it but to his surprise walking to his desk that morning he saw a paper on his desk with different drawings of him in different outfits and poses. The moment he saw it was the moment everyone saw as well as he posted it on his Magicam. After that day he'd often check out whatever you were drawing.
Trey- He needed ideas for a cake he needed to make for an unbirthday party, he'd ask you what he should do and you left him with a sketch of a cake that would suit that day. He was really impressed by the details of the drawing, he could work with this. After the unbirthday party he made sure to save you a slice.
Leona- he would find post it notes all over his room, one in particular was a note saying 'pick up your socks' with some skeleton character on it. He knew it was you laying those around, Ruggie must have put you up to this. He didn't care really, one thing he knew is that Cheka also likes drawing so he just lets you distract Cheka while he visits. Until he noticed a drawing Cheka left behind, it was of him sitting on a throne with a crown on his head while playing with Cheka, Leona noticed that you helped Cheka with the drawing with it signing off 'To Unca Leona from Cheka and Prefect, you'll always be our king.'
He hung that near his head board and refuses to admit that he felt his heart tug a bit, if you ask him why he kept it... He'll just tell you to piss off.
Ruggie- you two have a post it war, you'd draw something crude and stick it on his back while he wonders why everyone is laughing, he'd do the same to you. And it goes on and on until a teacher has to stop.
Jack- you often draw Jack tending to his cacti or him in his wolf form looking like a puppy... He keeps it but still hates how you draw him all cutesy and stuff.
Azul- He's annoyed with how you portray him in your drawings, his glasses aren't that big and he doesn't stand like that. But oh boy does his heart melt when he found out how much effort you took to draw him. He keeps it in his office in a draw at his desk, last time he left it out Floyd and Jade would not let him love it down.
Floyd- similar to Ace he likes when you make crude drawings of others, especially when you draw Azul as Mr. Krabs or Azul as an octopus with glasses. He'd put them everywhere where everyone could see it, unfortunately Azul had seen a lot of them around the lounge.
Jade- mushrooms. That's it. Jade often walks up to you and you immediately know what he wants. You'd take a few minutes to draw him a mushroom of his choosing and he slides you your payment and walk away like nothing happened. His side of the room is covered in those drawings, Floyd is scared.
Kalim- you draw him as an otter and he finds that adorable, you also draw him and Jamil with Jamil looking miserable, but Kalim could only laugh saying "ahaha! Jamil does make that face!". Jamil on the other hand pays you to draw Kalim cry as he sits on a throne, you'd recommend therapy but you won't be getting that money now would you?
Jamil- he finds it very, now extremely annoying that you leave drawings of him on his door, first it was him as squidward then him at Mc Donalds and him looking miserable. He throws them away but there are a few sketches of him, but the one he likes the most are drawings that make Kalim look stupid, he takes those as apologise for making him look so ridiculous.
Vil- he judges you alot. "Why do the eyes look like that?", "lips don't belong there", "how is that a nose?" Lord forbid you draw this man, "I look nothing like that?! My legs aren't that long, my hair is supposed to be shorter, my hair isn't yellow." Overtime he realized he has been too harsh on you when he himself can't even draw a stick man let alone draw what you draw. He takes the drawings in appreciation on how far you've improved.
Rook- he's the opposite of Vil honestly. He admires your art style and how you draw others, he find it amazing how you gave everyone such unique poses that match with their personality. He keeps every drawing you made of him, and some of the draft ones (don't ask how he got those.)
Epel- he also ask you to draw him, but with big muscles and him beating up Vil. Vil forbids you from drawing any of that due to it being a bad influence on Epel.
Idia- you'd leave post it notes on his table with drawings of Ortho telling him to touch grass, each getting funnier everyday. But it you draw him as his favorite character from an anime he watches in that art style? He's head over heel with you. He wants to marry you and your drawings. NOW.
Ortho- he likes it when you stick post it notes on his with cute little drawings of him and Idia.
Malleus- he just stares like a god excepting a sacrifice from his discipline. he loves your art, to the point he'd request that your drawings and sketches be hanged in his dorm even if they look silly. A person is laughing at a drawing of you and him eating ice cream? They shall be dealt with.
Lilia- similar to Ruggie, you two have an all out war which results in dorm covered in post it notes.
Silver- he's thankful for you leaving post it notes on him to remind him of things he needs to get done, but also enjoys the little drawings you made of his and his family.
Sebek- it depends on how good your art is. He'd degrade you to no end on how terrible it is and how you need to give up now! Or if it's out of this world, he just pays you to draw Malleus like a Greek god.
Staff- Sam most ask for your help decorating the shop during festivities or special occasions, leaving cute doodle or murals to encourage people to stop by the shop more often.
Trein find the drawings you make on the chalk board quite strange... Is it one of those me-mes mr. Diamond keeps talking about? He does admit you have talent but dislikes you drawing utter nonsense.
Crewel is biased and have favourites, you're one of them. You'd draw a sketch of him if you have enough space on your test paper and leaving a little message asking for extra points, how could he say no to his favorite pup?
Vargas doesn't hate you drawing, he just doesn't like it when you're doing it in class. He can't hate you after you just gave him a drawing of himself with the message 'best teacher ever' on it, it'll break his heart.
Crowley hates it, you keep making drawings of him looking stupid, if not that... A stupid bird.
#twisted wonderland shitpost#twisted wonderland#heartslabyul#riddle rosehearts#azul ashengrotto#floyd leech#jamil viper#kalim al asim#deuce spade
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As a fellow aroace mumbo enjoyer I think you'd enjoy my insane rambles-
So I think Scar and Mumbo are both aroace. They're both a bit different tho- Mumbo never really thought about romance too much. He's never really found someone attractive and he's never had a crush.
He finds some people aesthetically pleasing and I think that he thinks that's what romantic and/or sexual attraction is supposed to be like. He's never thought about it too much, he just though "huh that person looks nice.", classified it as attraction in his mind and moved on.
He doesn't think about romance and he just simply doesn't care.
Scar on the other hand had quite a bit of difficulty figuring stuff out. He finds people attractive, he likes the idea of having a partner and he likes the idea of dating, but any time he thinks he likes someone romantically and tries to imagine dating them he gets uncomfortable. It just doesn't feel right.
I think Scar would randomly stumble across the the term aroace and it sends him into a bit of a rabbit hole. He finds the terms he thinks fit him and it puts him on ease knowing there's other people like him out there and that he's not just broken or something.
Now he knows that there's other people like him out there, he just never thought It'd be someone on the server!
I think Scar would randomly mention something about being aroace or complain about something allo people do and Mumbo would kinda stop in his tracks and ask scar to elaborate or explain.
I think that's how Mumbo figures out that no, not everyone feels like him.
Idk I just think it'd be nice if they then bonded over that and if Mumbo found out a bit about himself through Scar
oughhhh my heart
Thinking about how maybe Mumbo started to figure himself out during s8 specifically, because him and Scar were so close living wise and got closer as friends as well
Imagine Boatem having their usual sleepover, all the others are dead asleep while the two are awake, catching up and talking. Suddenly Scar mentions about being aroace, and Mumbo perks up at the word, questioning what it is and to elaborate further (he always wants to be supportive of course)!
The more Scar talks about it and how he feels, the more Mumbo just starts getting the realisation like "Oh shit." and suddenly blurts out that he might be the same
Cue them bonding about it more the entire night, and them becoming even closer
#Scar definitely helps Mumbo also come out and talk about it to others#later of course#but NOW its their silly little thing that they bond over and make fun of others#like “imagine being in LOVE lmaoooo what a loser” type thing#cactuu talks
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Second part of my translation comments (and half meta) for Gray Shelter [Episode 5], you can find the first post here!
"You gave the choice/decision to me, didn't you? (reference to the earlier scene)" "So your decision is to give me some money and tell me to get out of your sight?"
꺼져 is quite a rude word, like 'get the hell away from me', Yoondae is clearly pissed rephrasing/interpreting Soohyuk's intentions, he's using informal tone too
"Because I live like this? Because I idle/fool around here and there without doing anything, not able to get myself together (cannot get a grip on myself and my life)? Because you still see me as a child?!"
"Yes. That's why I'm confused. Because it doesn't matter who is by your side (anyone will do), right?"
"And (what's the problem)? You can be by my side. Why is everything so complicated for you? Just... (in softest pleading voice) ...Watch me. I will live like all the other people. Then it'll all be good (it's solved), no? You can watch over me while being by my side. Mmhm? Don't care about the situation, once again I'm telling you, just look only right at me."
I actually really like the usage of 'focus on me' in all the sentences because the translator keeps the leitmotif and it works in all contexts, the entire conversation was translated nicely. Even "- What's the most difficult thing about me and this situation for you? - That I'm your home (the place you return to now)."
I just gave you more literal translation... idk, for fun xD Maybe you'll catch more nuances that I tried to put in here. It's just devastating. Soohyuk sees and feels that Yoondae is clinging to him like to a lifeline, and he doesn't want to be one, he's got enough of people burdening him, his life is hard enough.
He tried to think simply like Yoondae and just live in the moment, give in to his impulses as well, but he just can't. He's sinking on his own and he can't chain himself to another person because even if he's a safe place for Yoondae, he won't be able to save him in this situation, it means they'll both drown. Yoondae has to find his own ground to stand on, he has to get a grip and find a new home on his own so he won't circle his entire life and attention on Soohyuk. Only then it'll work.
"If I find another home, can I call you? You won't avoid me then?"
They don't kiss here – they can't. It won't work. But such short distance is a promise, it's a possible future happy ending hanging between them both like a life vest and a heavy rock.
I'm not sure he means it as 'we get together again'. More like
"If we meet again, will we become okay?"
Like, they agreed it won't work out now, they need some time, and Yoondae now will be holding onto that hope that Soohyuk might accept him and his feelings once Yoondae finds his own home, his own meaning in life. But he's still afraid it won't happen, that's why he needs to hear some affirmation. Will things between them become alright (and the fact that he doesn't really say 'better' or 'good', he uses 괜찮다 - fine, alright, okay and asks if they will be able to even reach that). Which means they both know their relationship is less than 'okay' now.
And in a very Gray Shelter melancholic satisfying-unsatisfying way, Soohyuk only replies: "It'd at least be better than now."
That's the only thing Yoondae is left with. This, and a daring request to pretend he didn't steal that goodbye kiss.
And we're getting a time skip which starts on a sound of a ringing telephone. ("If I find another home, can I call you? ) And surprisingly, it doesn't seem that Yoondae is the one calling this time, as he wanted to. It seems like Yoondae accepted the call but he wasn't holding it or answering, yet Soohyuk called him and invited him for a dinner and is waiting for the answer. Now, the decision is up to Yoondae.
There is a calendar on the wall but I honestly didn't track if there were any other calendars in the show so we can tell how long was the time skip.
"Alright. I'll be waiting."
To be honest, in the ending I wished they showed at least one scene of Yoongdae coming home in a work-like uniform or doing something to indicate he started sorting his life out before that call came through. Because even though the ending is hopeful – they lived separately for some time, Yoondae has his own place, Soohyuk is reaching out to spend time with him now and they both agreed their next meeting will be more hopeful – but will it be enough? Was the problem actually solved?
We all should think that yes, but I wish the ending supported it a little bit more confidently. After such a rollercoaster of emotions and complicated situation, I want to see them heading towards the truly happy ending Т_т (give me the second season!)
In any case, the acting is great and the melancholic atmosphere for a BL was so unusual, I loved the edgy dialogues and emotionally raw writing. For such a short story, Gray Shelter certainly will go under many people's radar but it still touched my soul.
And, well, now I understand the title. Soohyuk is a shelter, he shouldn't be a home. Shelter is a place they seek temporarily comfort in when they have nowhere else to go. And it's not a bright happy couple place, and it's not an abusive family house either, gray is neither black nor white. It's something in between, and it's up to Soohyuk and Yoondae to try and build an actual equal bond, have a place to return to and person to eat dinner with.
#gray shelter#gray current#gray shelter comments#dropthemeta#korean bl#kbl#soohyuk x yoondae#kdrama#bl series
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Dylan Langley for @plumbewb
"Just Julia" Bachelorette Challenge
I present you Dylan.
Dylan is a writer of smut, or erotica novels if you feel fancy. He was born in Brindleton Bay but moved to SanMy when he turned 20 and after publishing his first book. He struggled for the first couple of years working multiple jobs to be able to pay the bills until he made his breakthrough with his book "Bound by Blood". The major difference between his first and second book is that on the second book cover there was a picture of him in the author bio. Since then he uses his good looks to achieve his goals. "It is what it is guys. We are all guilty"
He knows Julia through her youtube channel, Dylan always liked wearing make up but never took the time to actually learn how to do it properly so when he looked for some tutorials he stumbled upon Julia's youtube channel. He now puts on her videos even when he doesn't need any make up tip as he finds her voice soothing. After hearing of her coming out as pansexual and her participation in her own bachelorette challenge he took the opportunity to apply straight away. He considers Julia to be an inspiration in her work and ambition and drive for being indipendent.
Dylan is an only son of a rather normal family, parents are still married and in love, they own two dogs 4 cats and 2 mini goats. He would love to have pets but he wouldn't have enough time to dedicate to them and told himself he would feel guilty to neglect them and have someone take care of them instead of him. He graduated in english literature and philosophy ( I know look at him, he has the aura of a philosopher) and even though he didn't plan on writing erotica books for women that's how he ended up and he quite likes it. Now that he has the means he has bought a bigger house for his family and is planning on sending his parent on a romantic vacation to make up for the fact that they never really had a honeymoon.
If you want to know how he ended up writing erotica novels well it was meant as a joke but his friends like so much the small one shot he wrote that they asked for an entire novel which then became his first book.
He is confident in his looks and his skills and isn't much bothered by people's opinion unless it's from someone he respects and love. He has a few close friends with whom he likes to party at clubs or go to concert. He likes food and he has been taking cooking classes for about a year now "The faster way to anyone's heart is through food" he says and I agree completely. He had a couple of serious relationships one of which left him heart broken but from which he took inspiration for his second book. In between relationship he has a lot of casual sex where he tries a lot of new things, he says first hand experience is good for writing scenes that are more realistic. Sure, we believe you when you say that is why.
Download private if chosen
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Silly Squad Alignment Charts
Because I thought it would be fun and silly :)
Find out more about the Silly Squad here!
Of course, have to start with the classic:
Hunter will say they have food at home and it's literally like probably two slices of bread, a bottle of ketchup, and a head of lettuce
Viram KNOWS how to cook so you best be happy to eat her food instead of having Mcdonalds
Khea and Echo it depends on their mood whether they pull up and order a single black coffee before leaving (Echo would never do it if Omega is in the car)
Crosshair doesn't even like their coffee but he does it to be a little shit
Feel like Tech is also kinda in the middle because he'll be like "Technically we have food at home-" but he also needs his caffeine
Phee will ALWAYS pull up to the Mcdonalds, especially when Omega's with her. Then Omega always holds it over Hunter- "Well, PHEE takes ME to Mcdonalds!"
Tay is the definition of a bastard (no seriously)
Phee is bastard (affectionate) but would technically be more of "Badass" than anything
Khea, Crosshair, and Tech are the Bitch Trio and if you put them in a room together they WILL tear each other apart (emotionally most likely but Tech will goad Crosshair and Khea into physically fighting each other while he records)
Majority of the squad is Babey though
Echo is also "Bad Ass" but he could also be a Bitch if he wanted
Hunter is Bastard just because I think it's funny
Dumb Bitch Hunter my beloved <3
Echo is sad dick because he has no dick
I use dumb affectionately with Wrecker (not with Hunter and Tay)
Tech just has big dick energy to me idk
Khea's a sad hoe but she'll never admit to it (the being sad part)
If you've noticed, I really like making fun of Hunter that's why he's there in the dumbass squared category
Wrecker, Khea, and Phee are all smart as fuck but have more fun pretending that they aren't really
Tay is good at pretending that he is smart - he is not
Then of course, Tech, Cross, and Echo are all smartasses
This fit so perfectly I was dying
Hunter is laughing nervously because he's aroace lmao
Omega would be like "Thanks! :D" and just carry on
Jung would most likely do *thumbs up* instead of finger guns though
When you pair up the couples, it's funnier
If Tay said "I know" after Cross told him that he loved him, Crosshair would dump him on the spot
Khea tells Wrecker she loves him for the first time and he short circuits and probably would say something along the lines of "YEET!"
Viram and Echo both have issues and would not be able to comprehend why someone would love them - I'm sure Echo's got insecurities and Viram knows she's a workaholic and therefore difficult to be in a relationship so she apologies in advance
If Phee told Tech she loved him and he went "a horrible decision, really" she'd probably laugh
And of course, who doesn't love Phee? If you don't, get out of here.
Crosshair could care less, he ain't dealing with that shit
Tech would say this ominously as if he's seen the future and knows your death is imminent meanwhile Khea's is more of a - "you probably will because everyone close to me has already died" sort of way :/
I feel like Omega might also be "i'd die for you first" too
Hunter, Viram, and Echo don't want to deal with that shit either, they've already got so much loss, guilt, and other things on their plate
Tay's probably not listening when someone tells him they'd die for him while Phee's like, "Oh, neat. Anyways, as I was saying about my last adventure-"
Jung is ready and willing to put his life on the line and Wrecker would probably more like a "Nu uh" because he's got your back and would look out for you
Phee will also do it for some credits or a cool treasure
Tay is going to fight god (and he's going to lose)
Tech could do so much more than take down the government, but he needs incentives (him and Phee can take down the government together <3)
Khea is a bounty hunter, her job literally requires her to stab people sometimes in order for her to get money
Crosshair would stab without anyone needing to ask him
Echo's taking down the government no matter what, but especially if Rex asks him to come along
Jung is going to fight god if you ask them to (and he'll win)
Viram is the type of friend who is an excellent tutor and you end up understanding the concept after getting her help meanwhile Omega will explain what she knows and then the homework becomes a group project of figuring out what the fuck it's asking
You can copy Hunter's homework but there is no guarantee that the answers are right (most of them are wrong)
You can copy Jung's homework and there's a high chance the answers are right
Khea had better things to do than homework - like get frustrated over it and cry for a bit before giving up on it
Phee did some of the homework but she'll only help you out if you give her something in exchange
Wrecker and Tay, beloved himbos, they had no idea and even if they did do the homework, you wouldn't want to copy off of them
Crosshair also didn't do the homework but he also doesn't want to respond
Tech and Echo both did the homework and it's correct but they don't tolerate copying work to even have suggested it is offensive so now you're left on read
#tbb#tbb ocs#tbb oc#the bad batch#clone force 99#sw tbb#bad batch#tbb hunter#tbb wrecker#tbb echo#tbb tech#tbb crosshair#tbb omega#oc x canon#oc x hunter#oc x echo#oc x wrecker#oc x crosshair#techphee#phee genoa#sw ocs#khea nultez#viram cossa#tay'kaa marr#jung-myn yun#baddies batch#silly squad
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Skeleton comes home to find S/O carefully carrying their brother to bed because brother fell asleep. Greeting their boyfriend coming home is for later, right now their main priority is moving Skeletons brother off the pillows on the floor to a much comfortable spot, you gotta wait a few minutes.
Undertale Sans - His soul left his body for a while as Papyrus looks completely dead in your arms, but then Papyrus lets go the ugliest snore and Sans lost it completely. He needs to record this. You need to see how ridiculous it looks to carry a skeleton twice your size to bed. He's in a good mood all evening.
Undertale Papyrus - He's not too surprised. Sans is impossible to wake up and will make the least effort possible to move. Papyrus is pretty sure he's awake right now and just playing dead because he's too lazy to walk to his room. He got the confirmation when Sans winked at him before you dragged him to his room. You know that you're doomed and that he will take advantage of this every time now, no? Well, you'll learn soon.
Underswap Sans - He's not too surprised either. Honey falls asleep in the worst places ever and it's hard to wake him up once he's comfortable. He has pity on you and helps you to carry his legs. The neighbor saw you by the window and called the cops thinking you're carrying a corpse lol.
Underswap Papyrus - He's shocked. This is a sight that rarely happens. Blue is a very light sleeper so him just deep asleep in your arms is like the shiniest Pokemon card ever. He doesn't want to wake up his brother so he just makes big gestures to express his shock.
Underfell Sans - Uh... Not that he's not happy you're hanging out with his bro and everything, but you should really not carry him like that. If he wakes up and realizes you saw him in this vulnerable position, Red is not going to help you when his brother will get mad lol. He's still following you just to see what will happen though. He's entertained right now.
Underfell Papyrus - All your work is wasted when Edge suddenly grabs Red by the hood and shakes him like a coconut screaming it's not his S/O's role to tuck him in bed like a child. Red is so confused about what's going on, completely disoriented. You feel bad for him lol.
Horrortale Sans - He stops you before you can pick his brother up. His back is too sensitive for this. He simply helps you pack pillows under him so he's not in pain when he wakes up and then he picks you up to take you to his room for a cuddle session.
Horrortale Papyrus - He's impressed Oak let you do that honestly. He's still warming to you and would have never fallen asleep next to you a few days before. He can see you're struggling though. Oak is very heavy. He comes to your rescue to help you carry him even if you hiss to him to be careful with his back and that you can do it alone.
Swapfell Sans - He rolls his eyes at you. You shouldn't hurt your back like that you know. Drop him on the floor if he's taking too much space on the floor, Rus doesn't care about sleeping there. What? Why are you looking at him like that? He's doing that since Rus was a kid and Rus is still alive so he's right.
Swapfell Papyrus - He insists on helping, which you find suspicious but agrees. He tucks Nox into bed, puts a huge teddy bear in his arms and manages somehow to stick a baby pacifier in his mouth. He takes a photo and leaves the room, smirking. Welp. It's not too late to search for plane tickets to another country before Nox wakes up.
Fellswap Gold Sans - He smirks and wishes you good night. You don't understand why until after putting Coffee to bed, you realize the skeleton is hanging to you like a koala and won't let you go. When you manage to free a hand, he growls and holds you closer. You're not moving from there before he wakes up, sorry.
Fellswap Gold Papyrus - Uh.... You know Wine doesn't like you right? If he wakes up, he might literally stab you to death. Can you put him down? He's scared for your life right now. He follows you close, magic activated in case he needs to push his brother back lol. You put him in bed like you're carrying a bomb about to explode.
#undertale#underswap#underfell#horrortale#swapfell#fellswap gold#sans#papyrus#undertale ask blog#undertale asks#undertale imagines#undertale headcanons
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Imagine polyamorous Malon and Time with reader. Reader had been friends with them both since they were young. You always had a crush on Time, but realized Malon did too. Perhaps you harbored some non-platonic feelings for Malon. You never allowed them to flourish because both of them seemed like soulmates. Little did you know that, as they became a couple, they wanted you to join in as well.
They had both stalked you since you were kids. That's when Time and Malon really bonded. They became lovers, and their hearts still ached for you to be theirs as well. Their mutual obsession caused them to miss your feelings for them as plain as day. They kept putting off marriage because they wanted you to love them.
Eventually, your feelings came out, not because you told them but because they read your journal.
"Link, they love us."
"This is perfect. The three of us can be a happy family."
They approached you with the idea, and your fate is sealed. They baby you; you are their little house spouse. They love each other and you more than the entirety of Hyrule. They would lay down their lives for you. So they make sure you don't leave the house. They don't allow you to do any hard labor. If you are even feeling the slightest bit off, then you must rest all day and allow them to cuddle you.
They are mostly respectful of your boundaries. The only time they cross them is if you try to escape or injure yourself.
(afab) They both want you to carry a baby. Malon wants to be pregnant, but she'll let Time impregnate you first. She doesn't want to be pregnant at the same time as you because then she wouldn't be able to give you all of her attention. Her body would be so busy creating life that she'd be neglecting you. Both she and Time just want to dote on you. You'd look so precious with a swollen belly full of babes that all three of you would raise together.
(amab) Malon and Time want you to be the one to give Malon her first child. Time does call dibs on the second one, though. They chuckle and tell you that they have been planning this for a very long time. Malon would just be over the moon to have a mix of her and you in her womb. She just wants to hold the baby in her arms and coo about how much it already has your personality and features. She'd be even more honored if you took care of her while she was pregnant. You would do that for your wife, right? If you aren't very skilled with it, it's okay. Time is right there alongside you. He's learning how to take care of a pregnant woman as well. If you do your best, then both will reward you for it.
(infertile) Adoption... kidnapping a child is what they'll do. Anything to keep you tied down to them. So many children need a good home; they'll make sure you have one of your own, blood or not.
Escape? No, no, no, no, no, no, no. They will not allow it. Both realize that Time is better equipped to track you if you escape than Malon. If you escape and Malon can't find you, then Time will always be there to drag you back to Lon Lon Ranch, where you belong. He'll stop the entire Chain just to get you back.
They just love you so much. ♡
#lu#time lu#lu time#linked universe time#polyamory#polyamourous#malink#yandere malink#malink x reader#yandere malink x reader#lu time x malon x reader#linked universe#yandere linked universe#yandere au#lu malon#lu malink#yandere lu malink x reader#legend of zelda#the legend of zelda#loz#yandere poly#yandere polyamory
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Postal Dude NSFW Alphabet
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Was gonna work on my TF2 and Postal requests, but I've been sick and was in the ER cause of it. But depsite all of that, I'm still horrifically down bad for this stinky pissman. My need for this man cannot be contained. Halp
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A: Aftercare (What they're like after sex):
Admittingly, his aftercare kinda sucks. Just wipe ya off then pass out. It's just not something he's used to. You're gonna have to teach him how to do some proper aftercare. It'll take some time, but he'll get better at it with some time
B: Body Part (Their favorite body part of their and also their partners):
Now I'm putting my own (weird) biases here, Dude likes his hands. They're so long and spidery. Perfect to shove his fingers down your throat. He's such a long and gangly man.
Now his favorite body part on you would be your thighs. Thick thighs means a nice, fat ass and I can just tell that this man is an ass man. And also thigh highs?! The way they hug the thighs are there's that little thigh pudge at the top of the thigh highs. You know what I'm talking about. Dude lives for thick thighs. Choke them with your thighs, he'll die a happy man
C: Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically):
I'd like to think cums a lot. Please let me dream. Just picture him cumming in you so much that it spills out of you as more tries to fill in you. Maybe even creating a little tummy bulge.
But for taste wise, it is BITTER. Like it starts salty but gets bitter the more you taste it. So good luck with that. Man's good for stuffing ya, but the taste is one that will take a bit to get used to. Someone get this man on a better diet!
D: Dirty Secret (pretty self explanitory, a dirty secret of theirs):
I feel like he's secretly an exhibitionist. I just know that Dude would get off to people seeing him getting fucked. Hell, he'd probably let people run a train on him if given the opportunity. This man's a slut to the highest degree even though he gets no bitches
E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?):
I'd say he's got a decent amount of experience. Like, he definitely knows what he's doing. Could it be better? Yeah. Much of this man's potential has yet to be discovered
F: Favorite Position (This goes without saying):
Homie doesn't discriminate. Any position is a good position. You wanna ride him? Go for it. Want him to bend you over and pound the fuck out of you? He's already bending you over. He definitely loves being bent over, stuffed and fucked
G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.):
Has this man ever been serious? He's a chill boy. I don't really have much to say here. He's a goofy goober
H: Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpent match the drapes? etc.):
I'd say Dude's got a decent amount of hair. Definitely not hair, but not bare. And even then, it's light in color so it doesn't catch your attention at first. And he's kinda groomed. He'll keep up with it if asked
I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment? Romantic aspect):
Dude's not much of a romance person. But that doesn't mean he isn't trying. On special occasions, like anniversaries or your birthday, he'll put the effeort in. He'd be cheesy and break out the rose petals. How'd he get them? Don't worry about it. He's even broke out the candles as well, ignore the burn marks on his hands, his ass was not paying attention when lighting them and almost set the trailer on fire
J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanons):
He does jack off, kinda often, but it's just never enough for him. He's tried all sorts of things but finds much more satisfaction being able to fuck someone. He gets irritable when he doesn't get needs fufilled
K: Kinks (One or more of their kinks):
I'm doing it. I'm going there. I don't care what you people say. He's got a piss kink. (So does Sniper but he's not apart of this, fight me) He will piss on you and he will have you piss on him. He'd be gross and try to drink your piss. He doesn't care. I'm a piss kink Dude truther
Another major kink I'll throw in here is pegging. He loves it when his lady put the strap-on on, bends him over, and makes him her bitch. Pegging makes Dude the most adorable little sub ever. Just a begging and moaning mess. You know you love it, don't deny it
L: Location (Favorite places to do the do):
Anywhere and everywhere. Just say the words and he's ready. Nothing will stop this horny man. NOTHING
M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going):
Your existence gets him going. You could be sitting around, reading a book or watching T.V. and that gets him hard. It's his inner simp showing. What really gets him going is seeing you wearing one of his shirts and nothing else. Especially when the shirt starts to ride up your thigh. It's like your teasing him without realizing
N: No (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs):
Now Dude is a pretty open guy, but of course he has limits. I'll just say that he's not into the really gross stuff. The only gross thing he likes is piss. Like, that's the only time you're gonna see this man at his most vile. Anything else gross and he'll start gagging and leaving
O: Oral (Preference is giving or recieving, skills, etc.):
Loves oral. Prefers to receive but will gladly give. Sit on his face. He's begging you to. But when you give him head, watch out cause if you don't stop him, he'll wanna fuck your face. He loves being able to stuff his cock down your throat
P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.):
Loves going fast and rough. He lives for it, especially when you mark him up during it. Rarely is slow and sensual. He'll be slow on thos rare intimate moments he has. But wither way, he will leave you a shaking, satisfied mess afterwards
Q: Quickie (Their opinion on quickies, how often, etc.):
Not the biggest fan but desperate times call for desperate measures. He tries to not partake in quickies often so when it does happen, he's so desperate to cum
R: Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks etc.):
Huge risk taker. The risk is what gets hims going. Always ready to take them. Bouns points if you're like him in that aspect. You two would be such an unstoppable force, for real for real
S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?):
He's got some pretty good stamina, especially when he's high on crack. He's practically insatiable. You two will be going at it for HOURS. Practically a whole day of sex so you better be prepared or you'll be a pile of dust afterwards. And yes, he will make fun of you for it.
T: Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?):
Literally in the one scene in Brain Damaged when he's sitting on his couch, there's a fucking dildo on the floor. So obviously yes, he owns toys, and yes he uses them. And yes, he will use toys on you. Why wouldn't he? Using toys means extra fun, and Dude ain't gonna pass up such an opportunity to tease and overstimulate you
U: Unfair (How much do they like to tease?):
Such a teasing bastard, and a hypocrite. Loves to tease and make you beg, but can be stubborn at first when you try to same tactics on him. He knows how to press all the right buttons when teasing. He rightfully deserves to be treated back, but also a little more harsher for being such a little shit
V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds they make? etc.):
I'd say Dude isn't the loudest, he prefers to hear you rather then himself. But that can easily be changed with a little pegging. Remeber, he's a hoe, so he is fun to make a moaning, whiny mess, just begging for more
W: Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character):
If it isn't obvious by now, this man is bi/pan. You cannot look at this man and say he's straight. It's just such a bold face lie. Homie likes his men, women, enbys, trans people equally. All he wants is a good time. I'd say he has a slight preference for more feminine people. But now by saying that, I'm thinking of femboy Dude and I'm more than here for that
X: X-Ray (Let's see whats going on under those clothes):
Now please bear with me here, cause I unfortunately don't have male anatomy. I'd say he's about six inches, cut, head's this nice little rosy pink color and SENSITIVE
Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive):
Very high drive, constantly horny. He cannot be contained. Sometimes multiple rounds a day isn't enough for him. He understand that sometimes, you're not gonna be needy as him so he's used to having to take care of himself. Though he'd appreciate some help during these trying times
Z: Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards?):
Almost immediately after doing the do. That's probably why his aftercare sucks cause he's ready to pass the fuck out most of the time. Falls asleep like a man in the Victorian era dying from Influenza. He's practically clonked out like a dead man too. It's ridiculous and deserves to be bullied for it
#postal#postal dude#postal dude x reader#i seem to have a thing for tall lanky men that constantly piss#is that a good thing#probably not#i think this says a lot about me#and i don't think that's a good thing#oh well
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thinking about 4halo again and dying
they just. they used to be so sweet together. and then the election arc managed to genuinely turn them against each other (and bad is still affected by being caged in the museum) and i would NOT have been surprised if a rebellion had started within the next few weeks after their last fight and. they used to be friends and then they almost destroyed each other
and then the eggs went missing
and there are so many parallels between them, but one of the biggest parallels is how they're both protectors. they both protected the eggs (and, when he became president, forever extended that protection to the other islanders) but the eggs went missing and they had to put all of that aside. Forever was quicker to put it down than Bad was (it felt like only a very temporary truce, from Bad's end), but they put their problems on hold, because their eggs. were gone.
and another parallel. the destruction. both of them with their plans to cause ruin because then, maybe, theyll get their kids back. bad caused most of the grieving arc damage directly, and got aypierre and antoine to help him. he dug holes in the ground. he placed mines everywhere and leapt into them. he started the lavacasting process of the fed building (and was interrupted by admins, so he stopped, but philza and fit were still right to laugh at him lmaoo). he drilled a hole through the side of the federation office from a huge distance away. he has chosen to hurt his friends and himself to get the eggs back. whatever the cost.
forever destroyed the island. or he planned to destroy the island. or he was interrupted just before he destroyed the island or or or. I don't know. but it was big, and it was bad. bad enough that the feds had to step in and forcefully drug him, and kickstart the happy pills arc.
and the happy pills arc..... oughghghgh as fucking awful as it was for their characters to experience i genuinely truly think that it saved them from each other. when he was first told about forever being fucked up bad was still in the "i need to kick his butt" mindset, and was all ready for an excuse to kill forever. and then he saw forever. and the first proposal happened. and bad was angry and he was sad and upset and he was careful. forever tried to kill him. bad decided to save him. forever kept trying to marry him. forever kept taking the pills. forever was so scared of his own anger and all of the damage he could and would have caused to his family that he kept taking drugs that kept him so out of his mind he hallucinated his son was just sleeping safely at his house.
and they both tried to kill each other. and they both failed.
and bad showed phil and cellbit (and tubbo) the item scanner that dapper discovered, which could destroy him, because nothing else was working. because they needed to save forever. because bad was reminded by then that forever was a victim of the federation instead of just a mouthpiece for it. and then when forever woke up he saw bad, suffering, and so excited to see him awake.
and now they're here on opposite sides again with forever projecting his protection urges onto the fed worker in bad's basement and bad frustrated that he isn't being believed and his evil plans of giving ron lemons apology brownies is being interrupted and. look at them. soft "i hate you" and the appreciation room and bad's quiet heartbreak when he learned about forever being missing and the "i miss you" book bad got mad at because it asked him not to torture fed workers. does anyone hear me im so ill about them. do you understand they care about each other so much and the happy pills arc reminded them of that. forever realized bad is colourblind and bad assumed forever was poisoning him and then forever helped bad cheat on another colourblindness test and forever was giving bad flowers and bad was accepting them and accepted that he was colourblind despite his previously constant denial and! i don't know if im being comprehensible and i dont really care i will be honest i just need you to know i am frothing at the mouth like a rabid little beast. they are a TRAGEDY of miscommunication and external pressure but they love so so much. platonic or romantic or qpp they CARE and it tears me to shreds
#qsmp#4halo#i feel like ive talked about this exact thing like three separate times but#its one of those things that really Kills Me#and its CRUCIAL to understanding them and their relationship#they were fighting and now have found peace in hell#and forever using his care for bad as a distraction to not focus on his Own woes#and the way he's so sure bad needs help the way he was helped that at heart bad is a good person who doesnt want to be hurting people#and in a Way he's right. bad doesn't want to hurt his loved ones. everyone else? yeah. in a heartbeat. but his family...#but he's still makign the choice to do it. it's not lashign out in desperation the way forever destroying the island was#bad is hurting people with Purpose. he's putting thought into it. he's testing people and their knowledge and their motivations and he will#use them all as tools that can be bent and broken if it means they get the eggs back. he'll do it to himself too#especially to himself#ghhhgrhrgh the way theyre both self sacrificial and self destructive the Parallels the fucking parallels#i can best examine their relationship from a bbh pov and it agonizes me because i can't get all the nuance of forever's pov#because i dont speak portuguese yet :c#so best i can do is talk crazy about them like a Lure for other analyst shippers#pspspssps dont you see my ship. dont you see how canon 4halo is !!! in 8 acts#dont you want to examine them and their parallels and the way they are both so strange about relationships but they're finding a way to car#in a way that works for them#pspspsps#like me talking about qbbh vacation arc got the fandom acknowledging his sillies and directly got me a friend to talk about him to (hi kia!#maybe it will work here also#come to the dark side we have complex relationship dynamics that are frequently misunderstood and mislabelled#YOU can help change the world
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(Tags from this reblog) (so, so late in responding to these, ouf)
Yeah, it is a horrible time for everyone!
(This got super long, so full rant is under the cut)
Ingo was raised to believe that his powers, like Emmet's, were a gift from one of the Dragons.
He's has been under the impression that his powers -- while unusually strong -- should be able to be controlled, and believes that he is at fault for his own lack of control.
In actuality, bonds are needed to temper the uncontrolled ice that Kyurem cursed him with at birth. The powers grew with age, and unfortunately, Ingo was cut off from the very thing he needed to have any hope of controlling them.
On Kyurem's side of things, however, it sought to spread the same agony of isolation that it felt to the humans that scorn it. Its curses, throughout the ages, always end in tragedy -- the cursed child is either killed, or goes mad and winds up dead by force or by choice.
Ingo is the first cursed child it has ever met, and it was intrigued by him. Here's this isolated, lost soul, deprived of the warmth all children should have, and yet he isn't mad. He's more sad, than anything, and desperate to keep his twin and kingdom safe.
So, curiously, it shares the secret of controlling its powers -- the warmth of bonds -- and forms a connection with Ingo. Ingo gets some control over his "gift," and Kyurem gets a bond for the first time in centuries, if not the first time ever.
So they both get solace and find a level of understanding in each other, and then things go wrong, and Emmet finds Ingo. Cue interaction and separation (may have dropped him down a chasm, oops), and Ingo's emotions becoming once again volatile and full of guilt.
Kyurem chooses arguably the worst time to confess that it cursed Ingo, because Ingo is already full of guilt and self-hatred for hurting Emmet again, and the Kyurem basically tells him that he was never meant to control himself.
Ingo was, as per Kyurem's interference, essentially born to sow misery in his family. Kyurem, when it cursed him, wanted him to be miserable, and to spread that cold hatred to those around him, because Kyurem couldn't do that itself.
Control wasn't ever anything Ingo was meant to have.
Needless to say, the abrupt realization that, frankly, none of this is Ingo's fault simultaneously lifted an enormous weight from his shoulders and incited the worst, most vicious wrath Kyurem has ever been on the receiving end of.
I remember mentioning that bonds need to be reciprocated and upheld. The bond between Ingo and Emmet is all but broken, and while Emmet keeps offering his end, Ingo never picks it up and ties it to his own, completing the connection.
Ingo breaks their bond just about immediately, which leaves them both worse off than they were before, because Kyurem can now properly mourn its isolation, and Ingo properly embraces his own (symbolized by his eyes adopting a sulfur tone and his skin turning pallid, almost gray, visually matching with Kyurem).
So... yeah, betrayal is a good word for it. Ingo has been trusting Kyurem and eagerly accepting its tutorship in the hopes of bettering himself, and then he finds out that... basically, it was this or death, and was always meant to be death.
Everything about Ingo's existence at that point in the fic is a happy (read as: miserable) accident set in place by Kyurem.
And Kyurem didn't even tell him, didn't even think to tell him, until when? When he tells it that he almost killed his twin again? When he's a mess of emotions? When he's already poured everything he has into their connection, worn his heart on his sleeve and confessed every bit of self-blame he's ever felt to it?
It tells him that it was all unnecessary?
It couldn't have said as such earlier, so that he'd have had even a tiny, modicum of a chance at making things right?
No amount of regret can fix this.
#iced tracks#eggin's writings#submas#subway boss ingo#kyurem#kyurem doesn't even really try to apologize it's just. yeah.#the problem with forming a bond is that it softens people in a way#kyurem came to care about ingo#and so it feels the loss that much more strongly#also! ingo is the only person who knows where kyurem is incidentally#so when he winds up back at the castle kyurem is really alone#I'd like to point out that ingo does plan on making amends with the legendary#because he does kind of still need to fix what he did#but he needs to cool off first or else he doesn't know what will happen#and unfortunately he never gets the chance#because that's when drayden and ghetsis (especially ghetsis) find him#so! bad times :>#thank you for the tags!#edit: just realized how long this is so I put in a read more
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