#sometimes i consider coming back but i think i would be just as miserable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missmonsters2 · 9 months

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Mirror, Mirror | One

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: The thought of something more had never really crossed Wanda's mind when it came to you. Best friends for 10 years and there hasn't even been one instance of accidental sexual tension. You're her best friend, that's all—until someone points out that you obviously have a very specific type when it comes to dating.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: i'm back!!! Nothing like coming back and posting a mini series. Enjoy this superior trope. Updates will be on Tuesdays! As you can see, we're trying something new with explicit content lol 😬

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.1k

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It's strange how sometimes a single sentence can change someone's entire life.

Wanda's thought about what sentences could change her life—usually, they're morbid and depressing.

'You have cancer.'

'Someone you love has died horrifically in an accident.'

'Your cat actually finds living with you miserable and would prefer the dangers of living in the streets.'

Never in a million years would Wanda ever think it'd be, 'Hey, have you ever noticed how your best friend exclusively only dates girls who look like you?'

And don't get Wanda wrong. It wasn't a morbid or depressing change; it was just...a change. An irrevocable change because now, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about it or noticing it.

This was all Steve's fault.

Because if someone like Stupid Steve could notice something like that, it had to mean something, right? But as Wanda remembers about the past girls you've hooked up with and brought around, she doesn't know what to make of it.

A part of Wanda wishes she had never talked to Steve that night at the bar.

"Where's Vis?" Steve asked, looking around.

"With Tony playing pool, I think," Wanda shrugged. She doesn't particularly keep track of where her on-and-off boyfriend goes. She thinks they might be on an off-period right now, anyway.

"And where's—oh, nevermind, there she is," Steve started to say but cut off when they both saw you across the bar talking with the bartender, flirting over drinks—which were probably free if Wanda could guess.

Wanda's slightly annoyed because it's been a long week without seeing you, and Wanda's been used to seeing you almost every day for the past several years of her life. But you've been gone on a work trip this week for a wedding shoot and only came home just a little after lunch and needed an immediate long nap before tonight's get-together.

That meant Wanda was sorely missing out on best-friend time, and now you were off flirting shamelessly with the hot bartender. Wanda's rooting for you, make no mistake. The bartender is definitely easy on the eyes, luscious hair, and lips—something Wanda knows you're weak for.

Plus, Wanda's worried you're not anywhere near getting close to settling down. She wants you to be in a happy, fulfilling relationship. But she supposes she's in no position to talk herself.

Wanda loves Vision without a doubt, but their relationship is definitely chaotic, and Vision keeps pushing for something more serious now that they've been dating (sporadically) for a long time. She's been considering it in her downtime and thinks it might make sense as the next step.

Best friends do everything together, right? So, maybe if Wanda decided to take the next step in a serious relationship, you'd find someone to commit to seriously as well.

Then, both of you could get married at the same time. Then, they could buy a house in the same neighborhood right next to each other. There'd be endless double dates and vacations together. Wanda wouldn't have to miss you.

But first, Wanda needed to regain lost best-friend time, one-on-one style.

"Hey, you know what I just noticed?" Steve said, breaking Wanda's drifting thoughts.

"What?"

"Bug—"

Wanda makes a face at your nickname. Granted, it was Wanda's fault you ended up with it back in your first year of university. You never let her forget it, especially now that you're a professional photographer.

"—over there has a very specific type she goes after for girls," Steve mused, sipping his whiskey before continuing. "I mean, they always have green eyes and brunette—wait, that's not true. She had two red-headed girlfriends in our last year of university. They still had green eyes, though."

"Oh," Wanda said, unsure what to say since she's never paid attention to the girls you were dating. On average, they were a brief fling, and only a few lasted longer than half a year. "I guess so?"

Wanda distantly thinks about how she dyed her hair auburn in her last year of university because she was looking for a change that year and Natasha was insistent that she'd look amazing. Wanda recalls you were a fan of the look.

"Yeah," Steve nodded along. "Ironically, they always look like you in some way. Check out that bartender now—long, wavy-haired brunette with green eyes. She's got thick, long lips and even does that dark eye-shadow makeup thingy like you."

Steve just laughed it off, finishing his drink, thinking nothing more of it before he started talking about Bucky.

But it was like something clicked into place in Wanda's brain. A daunting realization that she was wholly unprepared for and not equipped to do anything about.

Wanda watched as the bartender clocked off for the night and dragged you into a corner booth, drinks in hand. It gave Wanda the perfect view that the bartender wore many rings just like she did.

In the poor privacy of the dimly lit corner booth, there was a staunch and needy kiss from the two of you, and Wanda swallowed roughly.

From here, if you were none the wiser, Wanda could be easily mistaken for the girl in the booth with you.

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Sometimes, Wanda believes she's just being absolutely ridiculous. So what if you go after girls who share the same features as her? That didn't have to mean anything. You've always told Wanda she was beautiful, and it was perfect how you said it.

It didn't feel insincere or creepy. It felt good to know her best friend thought she was absolutely gorgeous. But just because you thought she was beautiful doesn't mean you harbored secret feelings for her.

You'd be insulted if you knew Wanda had ever thought that. She'd just be another one of those girls Wanda's seen you humble on multiple occasions when they found out you dated women, and they were worried you might have a crush on them.

But then, Wanda couldn't stop thinking she actually might be one of those girls because then she'd think about if you didn't consider her like that, it wasn't about her looks but something about her personality that wasn't your type.

And what could that be?

Wanda thought long and hard, trying to remember the girls you've introduced her to.

Sometimes they were funny, and Wanda was funny. She made you laugh all the time. She specifically remembered one time in high school when she made you laugh so hard you peed your pants just a little.

Sometimes they were intellectual, and while Wanda didn't have an IQ of 160, she did fairly well academically and was on the right track in her career.

Sometimes they were charming, and Wanda was the type where she got more charming the more you got to know her.

So, Wanda just doesn't understand. She's nowhere further with her thinking ever since this weird information has been bestowed upon her.

Maybe it all just means nothing. You just didn't feel that way about Wanda despite the type of girls you dated suggesting otherwise. You didn't need a reason for it, and maybe the fact you only felt friendship for her was the reason.

"Wanna order pizza in tonight?"

Wanda turns her head from the tv and notices you've put your book down. "Hm, not really. We had pizza last week," Wanda shakes her head.

"How about that Greek place that just opened up on Willington Ave?" You suggest. "Pretty sure I heard you grumbling about wanting Greek food earlier this week."

"I was not grumbling!" Wanda scoffs but smiles when you raise your eyebrow at her. "Okay, I was grumbling a little."

You snicker as you pull out your phone to order delivery. "Oh, sweet golden best friend of mine, whatever shall you do when you get married to Vis, who hates Greek food. Do I foresee a life of Greekless cuisine? Oh, the suffering you'll go through!"

"I don't need him to like it," Wanda slaps your arm, sticking her tongue out before she cuddles you. "I have you to eat it with."

You laugh unabashedly, a sound that Wanda's accustomed to hearing the joyful sound. "Better hope the person I marry also hates Greek cuisine. I don't know if I can live a life of eating double the Greek food. I love tzatziki sauce, but if I grow to hate it from eating it too much, I will make you suffer the consequences of that."

Your voice trails off as you focus on ordering food, unable to see the cogs in Wanda's head turning.

It's all so easy. There's no tension, no electric vibes happening. Just best friends enjoying the banter and making plans to eat.

It was all in Wanda's head, right? You're her best friend, so of course you'd know everything about her.

The right type of friendship is fulfilling and soul-connecting, and that's what Wanda has with you. When you have a one-in-a-million connection like that, the line between friendship and romance is thin, isn't it?

Wanda hates Steve. She'd never think about this if it wasn't for Stupid Steve. She can hear his dumb laugh, blissfully ignorant about the observation bomb he dropped upon her.

"Do you wanna get ice cream after?" You ask, throwing your phone to the side. "I'll even treat you to the gelato despite knowing I'm going to suffer through your crazy farts later."

"Oh my god, I'm going to trap you under the blanket with it just for that!"

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Within two months, Wanda forgets about it. Forgets, as in that she decides to drop it (let it linger in the deep depths of her brain that she refuses to acknowledge), and resolves that Steve has no brain cells and has no idea what he's saying.

"Have you seen my strapless black top?" Wanda shouts from her room with the door open. "The one with the v-shaped front!"

"In your closet!" You yelled back from the living room, not taking your eyes off your phone.

"I can't find it," Wanda whines, and she hears you sigh as you get up. The footsteps approach her room, and she finds you standing at the door with an unimpressed look.

"I don't want to hear it," Wanda sniffs.

"Hear what, brat?" You say with a brow raised before you start rummaging through her closet. The nickname was a joke you started that Wanda was entirely a spoiled person, exhibiting bratty behavior at times. "That I'm not gonna be your roommate forever, so you need to learn to fold it yourself before putting it away?"

Wanda makes grumbling noises that are mostly nonsensical but smiles when you pull out the top she was looking for.

"You are the apple of my eye, stinky," Wanda grabs the top from you before she runs into her washroom to briefly change into it.

"A match made in heaven, yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes with good humor. "Hurry up, Natasha will kill us if we're late for Yelena's birthday. They're on an upwards mend in their relationship, so she's been so unbearably uptight lately to make sure nothing goes wrong."

"I know, I know," Wanda mutters, carefully pulling the top over her head to not ruin her makeup.

"Alright, I'll hail us a cab, meet me outside."

"Wait, wait!" Wanda calls out. "I need help putting on my necklace."

You chuckle, walking back just as Wanda steps out of the bathroom with the delicate necklace she wants to wear.

"Alright, alright, relax," you tell her. "Your accent gets really strong when you're stressed."

"You're stressing me out by rushing me," Wanda scrunches her nose even though you can't see it. "I'm also stressed knowing that you have to rush me, or I'll spend the party getting lectured by Natasha."

Wanda's voice comes out husked with the accent, something she's struggled between hating or loving, but mostly loving since you've expressed how lovely it is.

You grab the necklace from her hand, and Wanda moves her hair out of the way. The routine of it all starts to bleed the tension out of her shoulders.

Then, that horrible Stupid Steve Sentence kicks into her brain.

It's only as you put your arms over, placing the necklace against Wanda's chest, and focusing on trying to get the clasp in. Wanda can feel your warm breath against her neck, summoning goosebumps along her arms. You're so close, and she can feel the heat of your body radiating onto her, your fingers just barely brushing against her.

The tension comes suddenly, squeezing inside her chest as her breathing slows and shakes. Her body warms in an unexpected way.

"Ah, got it," you say, but Wanda can only focus on your voice and breath on the shell of her ear. "Cute necklace but the clasp is so annoying."

You pull away and start walking off. "C'mon, I bet if we tip our taxi driver an extra $20 bucks, they'll speed and we can pray we're on time."

Wanda's left standing there, knowing she probably sounds like she's fresh out of Sokovia with how stressed she is. Her right eye twitches.

Was that...Wanda gulps. Was that sexual tension?

And was she the only one who felt it?

Fuck.

She's going to kill Steve.

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Natasha's absolutely neurotic when they arrive. It's just a simple backyard party, but it almost looks like a wedding venue with all the catering and flowers.

Wanda's pretty sure Natasha's only being like this because she's overthinking about whether to cling to Yelena or give her sister some space to mingle with others. She seems to be sizing up Kate, who Yelena might be seeing, but it hasn't been confirmed.

Yelena looks between exasperated with Natasha and secretly happy about the entire thing. Wanda can sympathize with her. After all, she's also a little sister, and Pietro can also be way too overprotective. Sometimes she's glad he's abroad in Europe for work while she remains in New York, but she misses him more often than she admits.

"Alright, alright, Natasha," you groan, and Wanda's mind slips back into the conversation. "We're 3 minutes late, relax, will you? Damn, are you always gonna be like this until you and Yelena get back into whatever sibling bond you had before? Hope you're just like this with us because otherwise, you're gonna scare away all her friends, and she's going to hate you."

"Oh my god, do you think she'll really hate me?" Natasha bites her bottom lip in worry while looking around at all the people that they can only assume she's nagged about being late or whatever mishap.

"Oh, man," you sigh, putting your hand on her shoulders before pushing her towards the bar. "You need some drinks and maybe some desserts in you."

Wanda's about to follow you when you turn around and nod your head in a different direction. She looks over and sees you're nodding toward Vision.

"You should go say hi to him," you tell her. "You've been complaining about not seeing him all last week, even though I don't know why you guys won't just FaceTime, but I digress. Come find me later, or I'll find you after."

You look over at Natasha, who's peering on her tippy toes to see if she can find Yelena.

"And, hopefully, I'll have ditched this nutjob," you whisper conspiratorially and laugh when Natasha turns around to smack your arm.

"I heard that!"

Wanda chuckles as you walk off with Natasha while she turns and heads toward Vision. Despite how she was complaining about not seeing Vision last week because she did miss him, her expression was sour as she made her way toward him.

Vision spots her immediately and waves at her with a warm smile. Wanda feels herself somewhat loosened at his expression. They'd also been friends a long time before they started on-and-off dating, so at the very least, she does miss his easy friendship.

"Hey," Vision hugs her, slightly rubbing her back before he pulls away but keeps his arm around her. "It's been a while; you look lovely."

"Thanks," Wanda smiles with a shrug. She looks around and sees he's standing with Tony and Pepper. "How are you guys?"

"Could be better," Tony sighs dramatically. "Natasha won't let me do any of my cool party tricks as if I'm going to ruin her little sister's party. If anything, I could make it the party of the century!"

Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "We were just talking about how we're thinking of going to the Bahamas for vacation in December and escaping the cold. We've invited you and Vision along since it's been awhile since we've all gone together. Of course, we can also invite Bug and Natasha."

"Oh," Wanda says for a lack of anything else to say. She doesn't know how to feel about it, but she peers over at Vision, who's just smiling at her and looking eager about it.

"I need another drink if I'm going to suffer through this party," Tony sighs. "Maybe I can convince Yelena instead!" He grins, dragging Pepper along, and they walk off together.

"So, what do you think?" Vision asks when they're alone. "I didn't want to reply on your behalf since I wasn't sure, but I think it'd be good for us. I've missed you," Vision pauses as if he's about his next words but then says, "a lot."

"Yeah, me too," Wanda starts to say, but then her brain gets all haywire because it feels like a lie. She did miss him, but did she miss him a lot? "I think."

"You think?"

Wanda wants to smack her forehead because she didn't mean to say that out loud. "I mean, I was complaining a lot that I haven't seen you in a while all last week."

"Yeah, work has just been overwhelming. I get so tired after work, I just can't keep up with the texting or calls."

But you can, Wanda thinks. Granted, you're her roommate, so it's easier. But even when you have to go on work trips, you regularly text her no matter what time and squeeze in a quick call, even if it's just to say goodnight.

The entire thing makes Wanda bite her tongue because why was she even thinking about that? That was completely irrelevant to Vision.

Then—because as if just thinking about you wasn't enough—her eyes trail across the room, and the scene before her makes Wanda even more confused about her feelings.

You're standing there with Natasha at the bar, but it looks like Natasha's calling someone over to introduce you to them.

Another brunette with long, wavy hair, like she just had a blowout done. Wanda's not 100% sure from this distance, but she has an inkling that the brunette also has green eyes. She's wearing a white halter top and wide-legged sage green pants. She wears a lot of rings, but her makeup is lighter and more summery compared to Wanda's darker, smokey eye makeup.

In short, this woman was the clean girl aesthetic version of Wanda.

And you look interested.

This was ridiculous, Wanda fumes, feeling her stomach sink and cheeks flare hot in anger. As quick as the anger came, it dissipated.

Why was she so angry?

She feels betrayed, and her thoughts are turning very ugly. Wanda is definitely not being a girl's girl right now with how much she's thinking she's better than the girl in front of you.

But that just makes everything so much more confusing.

"Wanda?"

Wanda turns her head back to Vision. He looks concerned, and even when his eyes trail toward what Wanda's staring at, there's no additional reaction. He's not upset that she's staring at you, and that has to mean something, right?

It must mean there was never a concern about how Wanda might've felt about you. Sure, there were a few things Wanda couldn't be without, and you were one of them, but nobody can't be without their best friend.

No one had ever blinked twice about you and Wanda.

Except now.

And that person was Wanda herself.

The more Wanda thought about the entire thing, the more she became curious. The idea of you dating people who looked like Wanda was intriguing. She wanted to ask questions but didn't know what to ask.

It might mean nothing, but it also might mean something.

And if it does mean something, Wanda wants to know what exactly it is.

Therefore, Wanda needs nothing in her way to find out the truth and exactly what she wants, regardless of the answer.

This was insane, wasn't it? Wanda's always been ambivalent about dating women. She's never gone out of her way to try it since she had Vision. Never mind entertaining thoughts about dating her best (girl)friend. And now, she was giving everything up in the pursuit of finding out what it could mean that her best friend was dating her lookalikes—and why she cared.

Wanda doesn't even know what she'll want to do with that information.

Wanda looks at Vision, peering at his features she's always found handsome. When she thinks back, she's not even sure why she complained to you about how she hasn't seen or heard from him lately. She hadn't even gone out of her own way to do something about it.

"I'm not going on the trip. I don't think I actually missed you like that."

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The girl introduced to you was named Raye, Natasha's coworker that recently moved from Nashville. It was also confirmed she has green eyes, though they had specks of brown in them. She was a southern belle with a bold attitude, witty, and a wicked sense of humor. All in all, undeniably charismatic.

At least, that's what you told her in private because all Wanda could feel was unrestricted aggravation with the other girl. The southern twang made Wanda's eye twitch, mostly because she knew you were head over heels for accents.

"And then before I knew it, I was panicked and more lost than a blindfolded turkey on thanksgiving!"

You burst out laughing while Wanda's expression is stony, but when you look at Wanda, she forces a smile on her lips.

"Hahaha," Wanda dryly let out. "So funny."

But it wasn't. What the fuck did that even mean?

Raye continues to talk while you listen with rapt interest, and Wanda takes the time to observe your features in a way she's done many times before but with a different mindset.

Your lips are curved in a smile, glistening from your chapstick. They're shapely, and they look soft. It rivals her favorite feature of yours, which is your eyes. They've always been so expressive with her, and Wanda's been around long enough that she knows what every expression means. She can tell when they glint with mischievousness or are soft with immense compassion and empathy.

"So, what did you think of Raye?" You ask Wanda as you leave the party.

"She's cool, I guess," Wanda answers nonchalantly.

The rest of the party was excruciating between Raye constantly hanging around you and Wanda also being too nervous to be alone with you.

"Really cool," you sigh with a grin. "Glad I got her number. It's been a while since I've met someone so funny."

Was she funny, though? Wanda wonders.

"Funnier than me?" Wanda finds herself asking.

"No one could be funnier than you, brat," you smirk. "I almost peed myself laughing again when you almost knocked off Yelena's cake. I thought Natasha was about to enter into a coma." You snicker while Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile.

"Glad I can always give you the biggest laughs, stinky."

Wanda glances over at your face, recognizing the excitement by the brightness in them. It's just another reminder that, as your best friend, she knows you like the back of her hand.

But lately, when Wanda watches you pick up girls, she can tell when they're heady with desire. That look hasn't been directed at her, and Wanda wants to know what it'd be like if it were.

Wanda recalls the night you kissed the bartender and imagines if it had been her instead. She pictures your hand sliding across her jaw and cheek while your other pulls her closer at the waist.

It's horrifying when a slow pit of arousal builds in Wanda's gut and...other regions. It feels utterly frightening and wrong like she's betraying the friendship for having and then reacting to such thoughts about you.

But there's another part—the part that tells Wanda there's nobody in this world that she loves more than you. The mere idea of ever being apart from you was unfathomable. Wanda could and has endured so many things, and it would always be okay as long as she had you.

So, knowing that Southern Belle Raye has the potential to be more than a one-night stand to you, Wanda realizes that she has a very small window to not only come to terms with her newfound feelings but also act on them as well.

If this didn't go well, Wanda would definitely murder Steve.

PART TWO

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

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writers-hes · 9 months

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i need you (2 of 2) | c. berzatto x reader

It was good when you started but Carmen Berzatto had the ability to make anyone fall in love with him no matter how much you tried not to...maybe this time he feels the same? (friends with benefits!carmen, smut, mndi!!!, unprotected p in v, smut! smut!, angst!! fluff, maybe some bad words, canon typical themes, unedited)

PART ONE / navigation

Sorry for the things I said.

I appreciate you.

He erases the messages that he wanted to send. It was tempting…

The flowers he let die mocks him by the stove. It was a fire hazard he knew; but if this room burned down, would you come over to check if he was doing well?

His eyes look ahead, empty. Ever since that incident in the kitchen weeks ago, the Chefs have been on edge. Who wouldn’t be? He was cutting away those vegetables like he just didn’t cut his hand. He decided to forget about you…for now. But it was hard, considering the fact that your artwork hung in The Bear like a mantlepiece. A mantlepiece for others but he sees it like a crufix and he, a sinner with no redemption. It mocks him of his mistakes…of what he said. Everything seemd to mock him.

Ever since that bloody incident in the kitchen a few days ago, Carmy made sure to never commit a mistake again. Every second counts, every second counts…every second he counted was spent on you.

Were you alright? Were you in Chicago? Did you still need him? Or were you alright since he's finally out of your life?

You’re so fucking miserable.

It rang in his head because he knew that it was true. He was—is miserable. He made everyone around him just as miserable as he was. He could never grasp the intensity of his feelings; could never seem to grasp anything. He thinks to himself to just fuck it all and go to you and grovel…but he just couldn’t. He knew he wanted more. He was well aware of his feelings for you but to think that he made a mess of everything that he could ever have was hard to swallow.

Carmy has the habit of hiding from his allies. He can’t control his emotions but sometimes, he bides his time hoping to fix it. He tries to wait for the perfect time to fix what he burned but…it’s been too long since you last saw each other. It’s been too long since he sent you a message.

Would you still love me?

You weren’t doing any better. Carmen, despite his refusal to love, was warm. He’s the sun shining on a cold winter day; the warmth that spreads all over your body from the kiss that he leaves on your shoulder. You missed him dearly, but you couldn’t have it in you to reach out first when it was him who didn’t love you.

The realization of Carmen not loving you back was bearable at first but to see it right in front of your eyes…to be on the receiving end of his rejection was more than what you could comprehend.

In a span of those months without Carmen, you felt…like there was a gaping Carmen Berzatto-shaped hole inside your heart that only he could fix. You’ve been in and out of Chicago to forget about him, but you couldn’t. At the end of the day, you were just as miserable as when you first realized that you'd fallen for him. Was it asking for too much when you asked him to still be your friend? The more he pushed you away, the more you were convinced that you didn’t matter to him at all.

Is it too late for me to love you?

You’ve been surrounding yourself with work; painting in your studio for what felt like years until you were sure that your fingers were gonna fall off.

If walls could talk, they’d tell the world of Carmen Berzatto.

You’ve been purging yourself of anything Carmy and you found yourself painting every single food he’s ever made for you. It was all that you could do to relieve yourself of the sobs that choked you at night; when you didn’t want to acknowledge that the man you loved didn’t love you back. You should have been fine—you were expecting this. You were anticipating this but you still wondered what it would be like to be loved by him. You still wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand in the streets of Chicago. You wondered how his hand would feel on your knee while he drives back home. You wondered what it felt like to be loved by him.

You were meeting some art collector today—he seems to be keen on commissioning you for your work and you accepted. He was supposed to arrive in Chicago to meet you and to try a new restaurant that everyone’s been raving about. He said that he already had a reservation for three but he couldn’t go and told you to meet with his art consultant, Isaac on his stead.

You should’ve known from the context clues that you’ll be landing in a place you didn’t want to go to. You should’ve been smarter because maybe, if you did, you wouldn’t be sitting at The Bear, waiting for your frozen grapes and bone broth. Surprise was one word to describe Natalie’s face when she saw you.

“So, how did you realize you wanted to pursue art?”

“Oh,” you licked your lips. “I guess, I wanted to pursue it all my life. It was something that I was good at and…and I can’t really cook well. I liked how food was presented and how empty dinner plates look sometimes, you know. It didn’t take long for me to collaborate with chefs and restaurants and…”

“Is that your piece?” Isaac asked. “I’m sorry, I just—wow. Do you think the manager will let me come nearer to inspect it?”

You smiled at him.

“Um, yeah.” you nod. Richie comes by and stops by your table.

“Good evening, guys,” he greets. “Y/N, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, Rich,” you waved.

“We’ll get you started with frozen grapes in a minute,” he says. “How’s your night? Didn’t know I’d find you here.”

“Oh, this is Isaac. Isaac, Richie.”

Isaac stands up to shake Richie’s hand.

“Do you want to go see the painting? It’s even more detailed up close,” Richie said, ushering Isaac to the painting. He throws you a look as if to ask for your permission but you just smiled at him. Your knee was bouncing under the table, trying to calm yourself down. Richie walks back to your table.

“You know he’s not going to like that,”

“I’m in a business meeting,” you shrugged. “Isaac is an art consultant and his boss told us he couldn’t come. Do you need to see my text messages?”

“I know, I’m not fucking accusing you of anything. Don’t be defensive,” Richie says, putting his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “But had I known that we were going here, I would’ve suggested another place. I don’t want to be here either.” Richie looks for the object of your focus, seeing your eyes zero in on the painting you gave to Carmen.

“We all love the painting. Carmy loves it. He looks at it every day before opening,” he offers but you only shrug. If he loved the painting so much, why didn’t he text you? “You should’ve thrown it at me instead of throwing it at the back. Could’ve earned thousands on that one,” you chuckled, telling him that it probably would. He sees Isaac come back to the table after marvelling at your painting. Richie smiles tightly and tells him that starters will be served shortly.

“Yo, Y/N’s outside. We have to bring our A game!” Richie shouts in the kitchen. “Make her first time here an experience. Fak, make sure that the lamp over Y/N and Isaac isn’t too hot and then, ask if you could serve them some drinks.”

“Okay,” Fak nods, fixing his hair to make sure that he was presentable. It takes a bit for Carmy to register what Richie was saying and he blinks.

“Wait, hold up. Cousin. Who’s here? Y/N…she’s here?” Carmy asked, taking the teapot of bone broth. “With…with who?”

“Isaac,” Richie replied, he was watching Carmy fix his hair and his uniform. What an asshole.

“Carmy! Don’t fucking—go,” Sydney whispers the last part, looking pointedly at Richie once Carmy leaves with the fucking teapot. “Really, Richie? Tonight? You want to play fucking games tonight?” she asked. “Need I remind you of the bloody chopping board? Sweeps hasn’t removed the stains out yet,”

“What?” he shrugs. “Everyone’s been on edge since they stopped talking. It’s nice to take a breather,” Richie saw the realization dawn on Sydney’s face and he smirks. “Right, chefs! It will take Carmy two minutes to go do his alpha whatever fucking bullshit outside. That’s two minutes of easy time. I’ll need focaccia for Y/N’s table after the fucking grapes. Make sure that the dishes are warm, chefs! Every second counts,”

“Good evening,” he greets, a tight smile on his face. He catches the way your smile falls slowly into a frown.

“Carmen,” you replied.

“Finally had the time to visit,” he says. “With a date?”

“Ah, no,” you replied. “Isaac is my customer’s art consultant and he’s uh,”

“Here to make a deal,” Isaac replied. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Berzatto.”

“Here’s your broth with the-the grapes,” he says, shakily pouring it over the frozen grapes. “Hope you, uh, enjoy the evening, Y/N. Isaac,”

He turns to leave but pauses.

“Um, sorry, Y/N can I have a word with you?” he asked. “Please,”

You swallowed. “Um—“

Isaac saw your apprehension. “It’s okay. You’re friends…right? I’ll stay here,”

“Sure. I’ll take two minutes. I’m so sorry,” you apologized before letting him lead you to the kitchen. “Hi, guys. Sorry for interrupting,”

“It’s fine,” Richie says, smiling at you sweetly.

“Carmy, we can talk later, okay? Your kitchen needs you,” you tried. You’ve been saying that to him even before your entrance to the kitchen, but he only shakes his head.

“Just…two minutes,” he says. “Please,”

“Carmen…”

“Please,” he tried. He didn’t really want his staff to see him grovel even though he knew that this was bringing them some sort of a sadistic joy.

“Sorry, everyone,” you forced out, but Sydney was actually thankful to get Carmen out of the kitchen for a few minutes. If it was possible, Carmy was even more unreasonable. His standards were tip top. A second too long was a second too much. He and Sydney have been screaming at each other every night; the volume of their voices louder by the second.

You followed him into the office, being reminded of the hurtful words you’ve said to each other. He locks the door, and runs a hand over his face.

“What…what are you doing here?” he scowls.

“I’m a paying customer. I can go wherever I want,”

“With him? What are you doing here with him?” he asked, hands on his waist to show his impatience. You decided to make him wait and he does, urging you to answer by raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t think it matters to you,” you replied. “I can go eat wherever I want. I can afford it,”

“I’m-I’m not saying that you can’t. Just-just tell me why here?”

“Why are you so bothered? You can’t question every guy you see me with, Carm,” you reasoned out. “You told me you didn’t love me. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to still know where I go and who I spend time with.” He flinches at your tone. You’ve never talked to him like that before. You were always so gentle. So, for you to disregard him and not even give a reason why, an icy glare thrown his way…was mean.

“I can kick you out,” he spits. You scowl at him; he’s never been the subject of your anger and right now, you were seething.

“So, kick me out,” you challenged him, meeting his eyes with the dort of ferocity that he never expected from you. He stays silent, looking at the floor. He didn’t want you to hate him more than you already do. “I thought so,”

Urgent and demanding raps on your door broke you from your reviere. You liked painting in silence; it soothes you from the loudness of the world outside. You sighed, knowing immediately who was on the other side. Your breath was shaky, and you tried to walk slowly towards the door. What would you even say to him?

Carmy was a jittering mess on the other side. He couldn’t get you out of his head ever since you visited The Bear a few days ago. He was watching from the other side after service, seeing you laugh at whatever Isaac said. He was making you laugh when that was reserved to Carmen alone…months ago before he ruined everything he ever wanted. He waits with bated breath as you open the door. He used to be able to just come inside your house whenever he wanted. You used to wait for him with a small smile on your face. It is all gone now. You looked tired; like you didn’t want him there at all.

“Can I come in?” he asked but he didn’t miss the way you shielded your body with the door. He didn’t miss the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Sure.” Sure. Like you didn’t have any other choice but to deal with him right now. Sure.

“Thanks,” he licks his lips, putting his shoes on the side like he used to. Your home was clean but it was devoid of anything. The lights were barely on and the music that used to play from your vinyl was nowhere to be heard. Carmy used to tease you for being pretentious. It’s too quiet inside your house right now.

“Do you want anything? Water?”

“No, thanks,” he says, and you nod. “I’m…I just—I don’t know why I’m here,”

“I see,” you replied, looking anywhere but at him. “Can I help you?”

“Um—who-who were you with the other day?”

“You can’t just…question or decide to drop by when you see me with someone else, Carm,” you said, voice low and careful. “He was an art consultant,”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes inviting you to look at him but you wouldn’t budge. He knew why. He knew that he was an art consultant but something inside Carmy was telling him that the planning had been deliberate and that you went there with malice. To spite him…make him jealous…it was narcissistic but what if?

“Because…because you don’t love me,” you chuckled. There was something funny about not being loved back by a person who used to come to you at the smallest inconvenience. “You don’t love me but the first thing you do is to freak out. It was a work meeting and you freaked out. You don’t love me, Carmy,”

“How many times will-will you hold that over me?” he asked, frowning. “Why are you acting like-like I did something wrong? You can’t control how I feel, Y/N! Give it up!”

“Because I can and I want to, Carmen!” you exclaimed, chest heaving. Your throat constricted at his rejection. This was the second time. “I can and I want to hold that over you because I’m hurt. I am hurt. You hurt me. You toss me away to the side and-and you expect me to be forgiving. You expect me to just understand,”

“You have to accept that I…don’t—that I don’t love you that way,” he whispers, and it just breaks your heart because he still couldn’t get it.

“I’m not asking you to love me back,” you croak, your eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t want to tell you how to feel—or what to feel but you didn’t even text me. You didn’t ask me how I was doing…or -or said hi to me. You—you…I don’t know. You just stopped.”

“Why didn’t you text me first?”

“Because I told you how much you mattered to me. I told you that I love you. I thought that if I didn’t text you, you'd miss me and…God, Carmen. I would have been fine if you didn’t love me back. It would have been fucking dandy. It would have been great if you could have just…treated me like a—like a friend, you know? I still would’ve been there for you…but you shut me out! You showed me just how little I mattered to you, Carm. Did you know that…? You—you treat me like how you treat everyone else when you’re the one who needs me. ”

“You do—you matter to me…”

“Actions speak louder than words,” you spat, your arms crossed over your chest. “You only text me first when you want a quick fuck. I’m free tonight? Want to go? You can’t even say that you want to have sex with me,”

Carmen was at a loss for words. He was hurt that you’d think that way of him when he thought the world of you. Did you really think that you’d matter to Carmen just because he wanted to fuck you?

“Hey, don’t-don’t do that. That isn’t fair to me. You know that-that you mean more to me than that. You’re being unfair,”

“Unfair,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “I’m being unfair when you’re the one inside my home after seeing me with a guy that I am working with.”

“It’s my fucking restaurant! It’s my goddamn restaurant,” he exclaimed, running his hand over his golden hair that you loved so much. “It’s my fucking goddamn restaurant!”

“And I’m fucking telling you that I can do whatever I want!” you retorted, matching the intensity of his voice. “Why do you care, Carmen?” you spit.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what? Carm? Carmy? Bear? Carmen…Anthony…Berzatto?” you taunt, the same venom dripping from your voice. He just never heard it from you before and it was an unpleasant feeling. “I’m not…I’m not going to let you push me around just because I love you, Carmy,” you shook your head.

Carmy stares at you, his face pinched in frustration and in sadness. He looks away, swallowing. He presses his hand over his chest to ground him. He didn’t know if he should be mad at you for making him feel this way. Like he needs you all the time to be alright. He didn’t know if he should be angry at himself for letting you lure him into your trap and your promises of warmth and love and…contentment. All this time, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t need anyone much less you for that matter.

“Say something,” you urged, looking at him desperately but he just shakes his head. You could feel it—feel him detach himself from you. You could feel him cower, hide his feelings…the real reason why he was knocking on your door in the first place. “Fucking say something, Carm! Tell me why you’re here,”

He just stands there unmoving, blinking back any emotion. He wanted to store everything in his brain. He didn’t want to feel anymore…he didn’t…

“Fucking hell,” you whispered shakily. “I don’t know what you want from me…but I can’t go on like-like this! I can’t open the door for you every time you knock. I can’t answer every time you call…just…please, Carmy. Fucking say something.”

Still, he stays silent.

A sardonic chuckle escapes your lips.

“Leave when you want to, I don’t give a shit. Just…just don’t come inside my fucking studio, Carmen. I was expecting you to apologize to tell me that you still want to be friends…I guess I thought I mattered to you more than that,” you told him, walking away. He just watches you go to your studio, hearing the sounds of your materials being thrown in different directions. It doesn’t make him flinch; he just watches the fire burn.

It’s time to go.

Carmen has been living in autopilot since his last visit. It was probably jealousy that prompted him to act like a jagoff but he wasn’t ready to admit that. Instead, he was harder on himself, beating himself up over the smallest things—if a dice wasn’t precise, it wasn’t good enough. Food out for a second too long was cold. It was like reliving New York but he was the perpetrator. He was the one pushing his boundaries until he hated what he was doing and Carmy admits, it was not healthy.

But what else could he do? Cooking was the only thing he was good at and there was nothing else to do other than work.

That was a lie.

He sometimes spent hours rereading the messages you sent him. You’d always text him to have a good day…a funny photo that reminded you of him…

He smiles at some of them, but it’s quickly replaced by the frown that etches on his face because he will never receive these messages from you. Isaac probably fucking does though. He grips his phone tightly in his hands; he hates that thought. He looks at his phone blankly, the message from you illuminating his face blue.

parm4carm? carmyggiano reggiano? carmensan hahahahahaha i’m at a meeting and i want to laugh because i’m thinking of things to add to your name

He didn’t remember replying but he did remember the small satisfaction that the message brought him all day. You were thinking of him and you were trying to make him laugh; he tried his best to stop himself from smiling but Richie noticed it immediately.

“What the fuck are you smiling about?” he asked him but Carmy only flipped him off, turning around to stop Richie from seeing him.

He sighs. It’s not like what you had wasn’t fun. In fact, he was quite sure that it was the somewhat-only healthy relationship that he has. You both gave wach other space, you talked things through. When he started dating Claire, he went to your apartment first to tell you about her. You shrugged it off, not really minding who Carmy dated back then. When he apologized for not inviting you to the opening despite multiple protests from Richie and Sydney, you understood. When he stopped responding for a week, you showed up to his door with a pack of his favorite cigarettes and a box of doughnuts.

Looking back, did he ever do anything for you?

“Carmy, you good?” Sugar asked. He was more standoffish; he smokes more, and he doesn’t speak much. It’s always only a grunt or a “yeah yeah.”

“Oh,” Carmy says, blinking. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Carmy…” Sugar tries. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I…I’m just thinking, you know? Like-like, I fuck everything up and-and I’m aware of it,” he says. “I know that what I’m doing isn’t right but…you know, I-I always have this dream of a fire…and I just watch it burn…”

Sugar nods, trying to coax out the lump in Carmy’s throat.

“I wonder if I just don’t speak…will they understand me? I can’t fuck things up again just because I have no cell reception. What if that happens again?” he asked, frowning. “Fuck,”

“Do you think she’s distracting? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,”

“But I…I want to,” he says, his hand pressed on his chest. “I want to, Nat but I can’t,”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Carmy. Go talk to the girl,” she smiles and Carmy could only nod because maybe Nat was right. If he could just…talk to you without jumping on your throat and without blinking, there like a fucking idiot.

That’s an easy job, right?

“I’ve been thinking about-about us, and I just want to say that I’m sorry and that I…Fuck!”

He was walking like a madman inside his apartment, on the verge of texting you about how Isaac chewed with his mouth open. You told him you hated people who chewed with their mouths open—loud and wet. He saw your favorite cereal on sale the other day. He almost wanted to ask you if you were aware that it was marked down. Should he get you a few boxes? What about three? He just wanted to know. Would you…would you come over if he let his kitchen burn? Would you come over if you saw the dead flowers that dried up because he couldn’t find it in himself to throw them away. It was the last piece of evidence that he wanted to go. Would you even accept his dead flowers now that your name was on every art forum? You probably like cereal and milk with fucking gold leaves and fig.

He knows that you didn’t like it when he looked sad but when he visited you, did you notice the way his shoulders slumped? Because he noticed the shallowness of your breathing, the taps on the floor, the pause before you opened the door for him. He noticed the way you blinked back the tears that he threatened to spill because he was cruel. He knew…he knew that he was cruel but would you still forgive him if he ran up to you now?

The cereal you like is marked down at the store. Do you want some?

The vibration in your pocket stops you from talking to the guy who just offered to buy you your coffee.

“Sorry,” you smiled sheepishly. “Let me just…get this,”

Your hands slightly trembled when you saw the message that Carmy just sent. It was an odd olive branch but what if you were looking into things again? What if he was just trying to have sex again?

I’m sorry for the things that I said.

Can we talk?

“Hey, hey,” the guy says. You didn’t even know his name. “Are you alright?”

“Uh? Yeah, no-yeah, I am. Sorry,” you replied, locking your phone and putting it in the back pocket. “What was it?”

“Oh, I was wondering if-if you want coffee?”

“I…already ordered, though,” you replied. “Advanced order and I’m just waiting…”

The guy’s face falls, and you smile timidly.

“Sorry,” you offered.

“No, that's fine,” he shrugs. “I should’ve known or something,”

“No, thanks. Um, yeah…”

The barista calls for your name on the counter and you smile at him before leaving. You rushed out of the café without another word, coffee in your hand and Carmen’s message in your backpocket.

The Read label was putting Carmen in a spiral. You read the message twelve fucking minutes ago, why weren’t you replying? He was popping the joints on his knuckles, watching the phone closely until you replied.

what time do you close?

can we go to your apartment instead?

He lets go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He texts you to just enter the apartment since you still have the keys, completely forgetting about the flowers near his stove.

When you entered his apartment, you were greeted with the bareness of it all, save for the dried flowers on the stove. You frowned, walking towards it. Carmy didn’t need flowers… Besides, this was a fire hazard. Was he okay?

You turned over the card attached and took a sharp breath.

Let it rip. I’m so proud of you.

Love, Carm

Was this deliberate? Did he plan this all out to get you to forgive him? You turned away, trying to forget the note that he was meant to give you. You sat on his couch instead, settling on the corner and flipping through the channels on his cable. You wanted something to fill the silence so that when he comes, you wouldn’t have to try to make up for it by saying something stupid like the weather in Chicago.

You settled on some reality show, looking at the screen with your eyes glazed over when you heard someone mess with the lock. You looked over, watching Carmy in his grey sweater. He tossed the backpack to the side and his shoes were laying somewhere. You saw this scene before—multiple times but the undertone was different.

“Hi,”

“Hey,”

“Um—“

“I hope you…you don’t mind me watching—“

Carmy’s eyes flicks to the stove and realization dawns on his face.

“Fuck, fuck. Sorry—you, ah, weren’t supposed to…” he puts the flowers in the cupboard hastily, some leaves falling. “See that,”

“Yeah—“

“Um, I’ll just…”

“Yeah,”

He nods, blinking, before stalking to his bedroom. He locks the door behind him and heaves. Fuck. He shakes his head entering the bathroom to wash the day away.

You couldn't focus anymore. Why was he so ashamed of the flowers he got you? You swallow the thickness down your throat. Were you intruding if you got yourself a glass of water? Carmy goes out of the bedroom a few minutes later, fresh and clean. He looks at you and heads to the kitchen. You don’t move.

He comes back with a glass of water for you, laying it down on the coffee table and then sitting beside you—as far as he could because he didn’t know where you stood right now. What boundaries can he cross?

“Thanks,” you smiled at him, taking a huge gulp of the cold water. “Um…”

“Shit—I don't know what to say,” he says, folding his hands on his lap.

“We can…we can start with what we said,” you replied slowly. “I…”

“I’m sorry,”

“Carm—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t take-I didn’t take your feelings into consideration and I…I hurt you,” he says, looking down. You were both sitting straight ahead, the TV illuminating your faces. It felt like a thick wall was between you two and that it was up to you to break it. “I just…I don’t know. I can’t keep on doing shitty things and then-then, feeling bad about myself but I…I spent my life trying to-to understand mom and Mi—key,” he chokes. “I guess I don’t want to understand anyone else anymore because I wouldn’t be able to but I—but you’re not anyone else.”

“I fucked up,” he says. “When I was with Claire…I was locked in the fucking freezer because I had no cell reception. I don’t want that…but I don’t—“

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked.

“I want to—I want…I,”

“I’m sorry for calling you miserable and unreliable,” you told him. “I was hurt and I’m sorry for uh, holding things over you. It’s not your fault that I caught feelings. It wasn’t fair to just…expect you to…love me, you know? Wasn’t fair,”

“No, I was a shitty friend. I shouldn’t have let you go like that,”

“Yeah,” you nod. You heard him shift in his seat, legs crossed over each other and facing you. You glanced and did the same.

“I got you your cereal,” A small smile.

“Yeah?” A beat.

“Like four boxes.”

“I’ll be sick of them,” you teased.

“I know but maybe you’d hate that instead,” A confession.

“I don’t hate you…”

“You don’t?” he asked. “Why…I’m really sorry. I don’t want to…I’m really fucking sorry,”

“What do you want, Carm?” you asked, a brave hand on his knee. “Tell me what you want,”

“Please,”

“And we’ll make it work,”

“I want everything. But I…I don’t…It’s funny. A fridge started Claire and I’s relationship. A fridge ended it too. I’m sorry for bringing her up…but I never felt like I was deserving of…of happiness and I,” he blinks, eyes pinching at the bitterness of every word that rolled off his tongue. “Who the fuck said I could be in a relationship? I am the best because I was focused and I…I had cell reception and I didn’t have the bullshit of understanding feelings. I don’t need amusement or enjoyment…I…no amount of good was worth it, you know? I thought-thought that it was a complete waste of my fucking time but I crave for it,”

“And…I don’t know. I failed them and I…I don’t—“ he heaves. He has to let it all out if he wanted to make things right. “I’m scared that if I…jump in, you know? I fuck everything up again. My staff hates me, I hate me, and you…you hate me too. I don’t want to lose cell reception and I…I don’t need enjoyment but I need you. I need you with me all the time but what if you get—sick of me and push me away like Mikey did? What if…what if you learn to hate me? I need you and I don’t know if I can handle it if we—if we just stopped talking and I did. I stopped talking to you because it would have hurt me more if you decided to end things like that…I’m sorry,”

“I’m just…I fuck up everything that I touch, and I know that I’m miserable and I’m so fucking sorry that I hurt you. I’ll take that with me to the grave. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, a hand pressed on his chest, like he was protecting it. The barrier that you had to strike down. A gentle hand takes his, interlacing your fingers with his calloused ones. It makes him flinch, but he accepts the gesture.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” you smiled and Carmy could just cry because it was the same thing that Claire had told him. What was the guarantee that it was different this time? “But Carmy, you have to understand that I…I don’t want to hurt you or-or distract you from being the best. I want you to be the best…”

“Is the best…enough?” he asks. “If I lose you?”

“That’s a question you have to answer for yourself, Carm,” you offered. “I’m selfish. I can’t—I don’t want to be the reason why you learn to hate me just because I told you to choose me and I don’t want you to choose. I want you to…be the best and be—be…”

“I need you,”

“I know but I…” I want you to love me.

“I touch everything and I burn everything…Richie and I…I feel so bad about the things I said to him and I fucking hate that I can’t control anything. My life is so fucked up and I—“ he stops, looking at you for the first time that night. “I just wish to just let the everything burn and then it will all go away but I need you to watch it burn with me,”

He still hasn’t said what you wanted to hear from him. He still hasn’t said anything.

“I love you,”

You stop your breathing.

“Carm—don’t say that just for the sake of saying it,” you begged, pulling him away from him and standing up. “Don’t say that if you don’t-don’t mean it…you're just being mean,”

“I do,”

“Carmy,” you whispered. “You didn’t love me months ago. What made you love me now?” you asked. “I’m not invalidating your feelings or-or whatever but I need you to understand that I’ve been loving you for months. I loved you after you broke up with Claire and we drank wine many months ago, but you didn’t…do you love me because you need me?”

“No!” he says. “I love you and I need you. I’ve been—harboring these feelings but I can’t…I can’t say anything and I’m so, so scared that if I don’t say anything now, then everything will just be a big fucking shit show and then, I’ll lose you forever. I’m so scared because what if we don’t work and-and you decide that I do make you miserable? What then?”

“What if we work out?”

“That’s worse because then I’d know that I’ve been holding myself back for nothing,”

“I’m confused, Carm. What do you want?” you asked, shaking your head.

“You and I…together,” he replied. “Only if you want to. I don’t want to make you feel like-like I’m,”

“Can you say that again?”

“What?”

“What do you feel for me,” you begged. “I’ve been…I’ve been waiting months for you to tell me those words and I just have to make sure that I—that I’m hearing you correctly,”

“I love you,” he says. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeats the same words over and over again and you feel your eyes brim with tears because this is what you wanted—this is what you’ve always wanted to hear. He stands up and walks over to you, covering his arms around your frame. “I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t,”

“Carmy…” you trailed off. “I’m sorry for the things that I said,”

“I’m sorry too,” he says. “But it’s okay…consider everything forgotten,” he kisses your temple and checks on you. “We’re okay, baby. We’re okay,”

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he says, ducking his head so his lips could meet yours. “I miss you,” he mumbles, cradling your head with his two hands. He kisses you fervently, like he was thirsty and you were the fountain of life. “Mm,”

“Carm…” you whine when he lets you go. You push him to the couch, his legs open wide as he watches you. “I want to show you how much I missed you,”

“Yeah?” he rasps, tapping his lap. “Come here, baby,”

You nod, watching his chest rise and fall in anticipation. You settle yourself on his lap, legs on either side. His hands immediately find your waist, clutching your body through the soft material of your shirt. You tug on his shirt to bring him closer to you, kissing him slowly. Your hands find themselves tugging on his hair, your hips rocking softly against his clothed crotch.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hips meeting your subconsciously and you giggle at his anticipation.

“Carm!” you chuckled, lips trailing down to his jaw. He likes that you never fail to leave love bites where everyone can see. He sighs deeply when you suck on the spot he liked so much. You could feel him harden under his joggers, itching for release. When you are done, you smile at him, pecking him on the lips before removing his shirt completely. He sucks in a breath when your soft hands run over his chest. “I missed you,”

“I missed you too,” he rasps, tugging on your shirt. You oblige, removing the piece of clothing entirely. His mouth waters at the sight of your naked torso. You rub your heat against his cock, the both of you moaning because of the pleasurable friction. It was slow and deliberate at first but you were soon mewling, his mouth on yours. His tongue pushes past against your lips, swirling with one another. “Remove everything, please—“

You nod, standing in front of him to strip yourselves of what remained between the two of you. Carmy, runs his hand on your waist, looking up at you with need. You run your hands through his hair while you let him kiss every part of your body that he could kiss. You sigh at the contact of his warm lips against your body, settling yourself back on his lap but this time, with less restraint. His hand immediately finds your cunt, fingers working to flick your clit. You whimpered when you felt his fingers prod your entrance.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Fuck yourself with my hand,”

“Carm,” you whine, bouncing slightly. Your hand finds the tip of his cock and his hips jerks, at the contact.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he says, looking up at you with his eyes half-lidded. He removes his fingers inside you and sucks on them. “You always taste so sweet,”

You couldn’t choke out any reply. So instead, you put your hands on either of his shoulders, slowly sinking on his cock.

“Fuuuuck,” he says, his head falling on the sofa. “Fuck,”

“Carmy,” you said, rolling your hips against his own slowly. “You’re so—“

“Good,” he says, watching his member disappear inside you completely. He could feel your wetness on his thighs, and it kills him. “I’m gonna make you mine,” he says, pinching your nipple.

“Carmy!”

“You like it?” he asked, his head inching closer. He flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud while you ride him. He bites on it and you flinch. He feels your walls clench around him when he does that, so he tries it on your other nipple.

“Carm,” you whined, “Fuck—“

The moans that emitted from his mouth vibrated on your chest. He was continuously sucking and licking your nipple, pinching and twisting it with his rough hands while you gyrated against him. His cock fills you up differently and you let his hips thrust upwards, hitting a certain soot inside of you.

He gives up the need to control, letting you part away from him. You stand up, repositioning yourself to finally—

“Fuck!” he groans, not expecting the sudden feeling of your tight, wet walls wrapping his girth. The tip was just teasing your wntrance a few second ago. His head falls back, arms wrapped around your waist while you bounce on his cock. “Fuck, fuck,”

“Carmy…” you moan. “Kiss me,”

He does what was told, capturing your lips with his. His tongue parts your already open mouth, his arms snaking around gour waist to keep you closer. You whimper, hands holding either side of his neck and you grip slightly.

“Mm,” he groans, breaking away from you. Your pace was speeding up, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling his apartment. “Fuck,”

You smiled at him, constricting his airways a little tighter.

“I’m so—fuck—oh,” he chokes out. His hips stutter against you, cock filling you up completely and he feels your walls clench around him. “close.”

“Baby, baby, baby…” he sighs, the pressure too much for him. “I’ll make you mine. I’ll make you mine,”

“I love you,” you mewled, head falling when he plays with your sensitive buds again. “I want to be yours, Carm,”

He meets your wet pussy with his cock in sloppy thrusts. Your bodies were moving in motion, desperate for that release—that closeness after months of being away from each other. Carmy was holding you so close, grunting and groaning under you.

“Fuck, I fucking love—oh,” his voice breaks and he comes undone. Your walls clench around his gushing member, thrusting inside to chase your high. Your movements slow down, his head on your shoulder. A beat passes with heavy breathing. He peeks. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, removing yourself from him. “Are you?”

He nods, pushing your hair away from your face.

“I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,”

“Let’s get you cleaned up. What do you want for breakfast tomorrow?”

“I think cereal’s good.”

A/N: First and foremost, I’d like to thank you guys for the overwhelming love and support that you showed in chapter one. Your comments and reblogs all motivated me to write chapter 2 the best that I can and I hope that you love this chapter as much as the previous one. As always, don’t forget to comment or reblog your thoughts! I’d love to know what you thought about this one.

TAGLIST: @kpopgirlbtssvt@morgthemagpie@hal3ynicol3@1800-queen-trash @ummvengers @thottywizard

TELL ME YOU NEED ME TAGLIST: @hanula18 @globetrotter28 @trashcanfullofdork @carmens-berzattos @se0kie @saturnheart @akila-twt @mashadanki @ayoedibiris-letterboxd @quicksilversg1rl @docmerlock @notalxx

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto #angst #fluff #the bear #the bear fc #carmy berzatto smut

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forestdeath1 · 1 month

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Sirius’s attitude towards Peter

This is going to be a bit controversial because in the fandom, it's commonly believed that Sirius loved Peter. People backs this up with two points:

Sirius suggested Peter as the Secret Keeper.

Sirius said he'd die for Peter.

In my view, their relationship was a bit more complicated than just "he loved him." Emotions aren't just about love and hate, there's a lot of grey area in between. But personally, I don't see any evidence that Sirius truly loved or respected Peter.

From what we know in the books, teachers saw Peter like this:

Pettigrew... that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?’ said Madam Rosmerta. ‘Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,’ said Professor McGonagall.

For an observant and clever person like McGonagall, the group dynamics aren't a secret. It's exactly what people saw from the outside.

We know for sure that Peter visited the Potters, and Lily worried about him being sad, whereas there's no mention of Remus. In the Order of the Phoenix photo, Peter stands next to James, Lily and Sirius, while Remus is on the other end. So at least during the war, Peter was closer to the Potters than Remus.

Here's what JKR says about their relationship with Peter:

"Pettigrew, who they, in a slightly patronizing way, James and Sirius at least, who they allowed to hang round with them, it turned out that he was a better wizard than they knew. Turned out he was better at hiding secrets than they knew."

And it makes sense. Patronizing. They didn't intend to be friends with Peter at all, it was Remus who felt sorry for him and persuaded James and Sirius to include him.

Remus, always the underdog’s friend, was kind to short and rather slow Peter Pettigrew, a fellow Gryffindor, whom James and Sirius might not have thought worthy of their attention without Remus’s persuasion. Soon, these four became inseparable. (Pottermore)

And what we see in their relationship in reality:

Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, Wormtail gasped and applauded.

‘Put that away, will you,’ said Sirius finally, as James made a fine catch and Wormtail let out a cheer, ‘before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.’

Wormtail turned slightly pink, but James grinned.

Peter's behaviour:

Lupin and Wormtail remained sitting: Lupin was still staring down at his book, though his eyes were not moving and a faint frown line had appeared between his eyebrows; Wormtail was looking from Sirius and James to Snape with a look of avid anticipation on his face.

How can someone like Sirius, who literally hates groveling ("I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself?"), respect and love someone who constantly grovels? Was Sirius blind not to see that? Everyone saw it. Remus simply pitied and was kind to Peter ("always the underdog’s friend"), and James loved Peter's adoration. James is the kind of person who really loves attention, and at the same time, he has a pretty black-and-white view of the world, and probably considered Peter a good guy, albeit one he could sometimes make fun of ('How thick are you, Wormtail?' said James impatiently. 'You run round with a werewolf once a month –')

But Sirius didn't need attention, he wasn't an attention-seeker. He could see pretty well who and what everyone was.

Many say that what Sirius says in PoA,he says it after many years of reflection in Azkaban and on emotions. I don’t think so:

‘Lily and James only made you Secret Keeper because I suggest- ed it,’ Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backwards. ‘I thought it was the perfect plan ... a bluff ... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they’d use a weak, talentless thing like you ... it must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters.’

Sirius came up with a bluff. A plan where Voldemort was supposed to come after him, Sirius, not Peter. It wasn't just that Sirius trusted Peter. The point was that Voldemort would NOT come after Peter. Why was he so sure Voldemort wouldn't come after Peter?

Because first of all, I think Sirius really, as he said, believed that Voldemort would never pay attention to Peter. And secondly, Sirius was sure that Peter admired James too much and loved him too much to betray. The one who was always attached to them, the one who always looked up to James in admiration.

Sirius underestimated Peter's "bravery" and cunning.

‘I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you? It used to be us ... me and Remus ... and James ...’

He always saw that Peter was attached to them as "big friends," but Sirius, being arrogant, underestimated that besides them, Peter could have other "big friends." He was too convinced that Peter idolized James.

At the same time, it's pretty obvious why Sirius didn't trust Remus. He always respected Remus more, considered him smarter and more capable. He couldn't not trust James, James was everything to him, but Remus, who also often disappeared on missions, he could. This distrust shows not so much that they had bad relations, but rather that Sirius considered Remus a more capable and independent person, not just an appendage to James, like Peter.

So why were they considered inseparable and why did Sirius say he would die for Peter?

‘He – he was taking over everywhere!’ gasped Pettigrew. ‘Wh-what was there to be gained by refusing him?’

‘What was there to be gained by fighting the most evil wizard who has ever existed?’ said Black, with a terrible fury in his face. ‘Only innocent lives, Peter!’

‘You don’t understand!’ whined Pettigrew. ‘He would have killed me, Sirius!’

‘THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!’ roared Black. ‘DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!’

Sirius has a very strong sense of honor. For him, dying for those he considers «ours» is a matter of honor. This is a nuance in his character — he may not particularly like or respect someone, but if they're «ours» he'll defend them (even someone like Mundungus).

He considered Peter their friend, he was with them from the first year, James loved Peter, Remus loved Peter, Peter helped in their mischiefs, and Sirius treated Peter okay, as a friend, but without much respect or some unearthly love that fandom usually portrays. He could see what Peter was like, and surely there were tense situations between them, but Sirius wasn't a bad person, and Peter knew how to play the helpless and miserable guy. It's like a patronizing friendship, where you're friends not because you really respect and love the person, but because they're in your group, and you're used to them. It was a childhood friendship. There was no sacred friendship. Children often start friendships simply because they end up in the same bedroom.

And Sirius isn't afraid of death. His death – it's not the worst thing for him. He tells Peter the same thing. Better to die than betray friends. That's his honor—he doesn't understand betrayal. The concept of honor isn't linked to love. For some reason, many think that a person can only decide to die for those they love. But some might choose death because their honor demands it. And if Sirius considered someone a friend, and he did consider Peter a friend, then dying for him is a normal reaction.

JKR on this: "Sirius would have done it. With all his faults and flaws, he has this profound sense of honor, ultimately, and he would rather have died honorably, as he would see it, than live with the dishonor and shame."

And Sirius would die not just for Peter. He told the twins about their father, who was on a mission: "You don't understand - there are things worth dying for!"

So, I don't see any evidence that Sirius truly loved and respected Peter. Did he consider him a friend? Yes, he did. Not personally his own, but their friend. James's friend first and foremost and an integral part of the Marauders. Would he die for him? Yes, of course. It's a matter of honor. But he always saw him as lesser than themselves, not as worthy, not as strong, not as smart, too cowardly, and sly. And it's precisely because of his arrogant attitude that he thought Voldemort would never pay attention to Peter, making Peter the perfect Secret Keeper. Also, in his opinion, Peter would never betray James precisely because Peter supposedly idolized James too much and loved him too much. But "it turned out that he was a better wizard than they knew. Turned out he was better at hiding secrets than they knew."

#sirius black #the marauders #peter pettigrew #sirius black meta #the marauders meta #hp meta

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theemissuniverse · 7 months

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“YOU HAVE CHOSEN WAR WITH A GOD” LIU KANG X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : To say Liu Kang is in love with you is an understatement. You’re a princess and Kitana and Mileena’s younger sister. You start dating a guy but he doesn’t respect you at all. Liu Kang won’t stand for it. (The lowest of keys inspired by that one “that 70s show” episode. If y’all know know then you know)

WARNINGS : none I think lmao

Liu Kang was absolutely miserable. The Royal family of Outworld once again was throwing a party but this time in celebration for their father’s return. Of course, Liu Kang would show up to pay his respects but there was one small problem: you were with another man.

Now, it took Liu Kang a lot and I mean, a lot to get jealous. Liu Kang was usually always secure in himself but not when it came to you.

Instead you had your hand over this man’s arm. Your lips on him. Laughing at his jokes. It made him feel physically ill.

Johnny had noticed Liu Kang’s behavior and he knew why too. It was because of you. “Come on, dude. You’re the God of literal fire. You totally beat a guard of a palace.”

“Johnny is right…surprisingly.” Kung Lao said. “I have never seen you so nervous around someone before, Lord Liu Kang.”

“If you created this timeline then why didn’t you get her to fall in love with you?” Johnny asked. All his Earthrealm friends looked at him as if he was stupid. “What?”

“Do you not hear yourself right now?” Kenshi questioned him.

Liu Kang sighed. “I created the timeline to allow people free will. If she doesn’t want to be with me then so be it.”

Johnny let out an irritated moan. “You don’t even know. Why don’t you ask her?”

Raiden shook his head. “And jeopardized their friendship?”

Johnny flicked Raiden’s head and Raiden let out an ‘Ow.’ “We’re not talking about you and Kitana. We’re talking about Liu Kang and (Y/N).” He turned his attention back on you feeding your date with some grapes. “There’s gotta be something up with this guy. I don’t trust him.”

“I agree…again surprisingly.” Kung Lao said.

“Looks like we’re about to find out.” Kenshi said as you started to walk towards the champions.

Johnny gave him a confused look. “Look? You’re blind.” Kenshi flicked Johnny’s head and Johnny let out an ‘Ow.’ Kung Lao and Raiden snickered.

“Hey you guys.” You yelled out happy. They all bowed to you and you rolled your eyes playfully. Compared to your sisters, you were laid back. “I told you to stop that.” You then pulled Liu Kang into a hug. “Hey, Liu.”

Liu Kang was always happy with your guy’s relationship. Considering you were a princess and he was a God, the two of you did not act like there was a power imbalance. He hugged you back. “Hello, (Y/N).” He had stuck it in his head to call you just by your name every time he addressed you because you told him to.

The two of you pull away. You motioned over to your date. “This is my boyfriend, Brady.”

Kenshi felt his head and then turned his attention to Brady. “You’re not from Outworld. I can read your thoughts.”

“Strange…” Brady said with a laugh. “Yeah no, I’m from Earthrealm but my business is in Outworld.”

“Pretty interesting move…Brady.” Johnny Cage said, eyeing him up and down.

“Yeah…it is..” Brady said a little uncomfortable.

You listened to the music. The music had slowed up. “I swear they always do this. I’ll be back.” You kissed Brady’s cheek and walked away. “Hey! I said I wanted fast paced!”

It was just the Earthrealmers and Brady. There was a bit of an awkward silence. Liu Kang, as much as he hated it, did not want to be rude and now felt inclined to keep the conversation going. “So, you and Princess (Y/N)?”

Brady nodded. “Yeah isn’t she something?”

Liu Kang didn’t like how he spoke but decided to push it aside. “She’s a wonderful person.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I kinda hate it when she talks.”

The group was shocked at what he said. They all turn to Liu Kang to see his reaction.

Liu Kang looked pissed as ever. Why was he with you if he couldn’t stand you? Liu Kang was madly in love with you. He could listen to you talk for hours. Even if it was literally about paint drying. How could he not? He still tried to keep his composure and offered a fake smile. “Why are you with her then?”

Brady let off a chuckle. “I mean, I figure it’s worth it if I can nail her.”

Raiden was the only one confused by the statement. “Nail her? Like with a hammer?” Kenshi bent over towards his direction and whispered in his ear, explaining to him what Brady had meant. “Oh…”

He wanted to use you for sex? This was crossing a very big line. Though, Liu Kang still tried to use reason. “You should think about that. (Y/N), doesn’t really get into relationships so-“

“That’s not a surprised.” Brady said. When the Earthrealmers waited for his response, he gave them a look as if they should know why. “I mean, she’s an annoying bitch.”

Again, the Earthrealm champions turned back to see Liu Kang’s reaction. This time Liu Kang looked even more angry. They took one step back, knowing what was going to happen.

Liu Kang was a simple man. He did not evoke violence or promote it. Did not believe that fighting was the first resort to anything.

That didn’t matter when it came down to you.

Liu Kang grabbed a hold of Brady’s shirt and made him look directly in his eyes. “Take it back.”

Brady tried to hide his fear. He scoffed at Liu Kang and tried to get him to release his grip on him. “What are you in love with her or something? Relax. You can have her when I’m done.”

That was the final straw. Liu Kang started to feel himself lose control. In one swift motion, Liu Kang used his power to fling him across the party. Brady hit the brick wall and fell onto a table where he then broke it.

“Yeah! Kick his ass!” Johnny said, pulling out a phone and recording. The others gave him a look. “What?”

Liu Kang was not finished. He walked over to Brady and picked him up by his neck. His free hand started to build up fire and he was ready to use it on him until you came along. “Liu Kang?”

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his rage. Liu Kang looked over towards you and immediately dropped Brady. “(Y/N).”

“What happened?” You asked concerned. You then realized that obviously it had to be Brady’s doing because Liu Kang would not attack anyone for no reason. You turned your attention to your boyfriend. “Did you start the fight?”

Brady looked at you like he couldn’t believe you. He stood up from the ground and pointed in the direction of Liu Kang. “Me? He attacked me! I didn’t lay a hand on him.”

You were stunned by the accusation. You turned your attention to Liu Kang, who looked ashamed by his actions. “Is that true? Did you attack him first?”

Liu Kang kept his head down, not daring to look at you. “Yes, Princess (Y/N).”

You couldn’t believe that Liu Kang would start a fight. No. Something was missing. You turned back to Brady. “Okay, well what did you do or say because Liu Kang doesn’t just go out attacking people.”

“Are you serious?” Brady questioned you in disbelief. “You’re picking his side-a psycho, over your own boyfriend.”

By this statement, Raiden decided to speak up. “Brady told us that he was only using you for intimacy and then called you…” He tried to find the right words.

“An annoying bitch.” Johnny helped him out.

“Yes. That. Lord Liu Kang was just defending your honor, Princess.”

Of course you believed your Earthrealm friends. You were beyond angry. You looked at Brady. “I’m an annoying what now?”

Brady looked scared out his mind. If he feared Liu Kang, he didn’t know you at all. “No, no. Baby, I would never. They’re lying.”

Two of your guards had walked up to you. “Is everything alright, Princess (Y/N)?”

You looked between the guards and him. You didn’t even want to deal with him anymore. “Escort him out of here. Make sure he never enters the palace again.”

The guards grabbed onto Brady. Brady tried to break out. “Baby, wait. We can talk about this-“

“No, we cannot.” You leaned in, making sure your eyes met his. “Be incredibly grateful I offer you mercy.”

The guards escorted Brady out of the party. Not without him screaming after you. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. Then you turned over to Liu Kang. “Thank you for standing up for me. I didn’t know you could get so angry.”

Liu Kang smiled at you. “Only for you.” You smiled a little, feeling the butterflies you always felt for him erupt. Liu Kang gently took your hand. “May I have a moment with you?”

“Sure.” You took Liu Kang inside the palace and all the way to your room. When you made it to your room, you closed the door and looked at him. “What did you need to talk about?”

Liu Kang bit his lip. It shouldn’t be this hard to confess his feelings for you but it was. He didn’t want to ruin any friendship he had with you. “I didn’t just do that because of his disrespect for you…I did it because I love you. I have had feelings for you for the longest but I didn’t want you to feel incline to have them for me or push me away. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. Every time I look at you, it’s as if time itself stops. I have never felt so strongly for anyone the way I have with you before.” He took your hands in his. “Please, if you do not feel the same, don’t shut me out. I still would like to remain as friends.”

You were shocked by his confession but not at all surprised. You’ve waited forever for him to say that. You pulled Liu Kang close to you and kissed him.

Liu Kang happily kissed you back, deepening the kiss. He kissed you as if you were the only woman in the world.

The two of you pull away. You smiled up at him. “It’s about time.”

Liu Kang smiled at you and pulled you into another kiss. Everything felt right within the world now.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #liu kang #mortal kombat 1 #kitana #kung lao #mileena #raiden #johnny cage #mk #mk 1 #kenshi takahashi #mk sindel #liu kang x reader

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writingjjfics · 4 months

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Pogues to the rescue!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader, Platonic!Pogues x kook!reader

Summary: JJ and the Pogues come to rescue Y/n from her Kook family party.

Warnings: Kooks

Requested?: Yes! See request here!

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Guess who's back? back again? It's moi! I apologize for how extremely long this took, life got in the way 🙂 also I did change the request a bit, and got some inspiration from the midsummers episode, hope that's okay! Oh and Sarah is not part of the Pogues for the sake of the story (not my gif)

The last few hours of your life have been a bore. You were stuck at this table with egocentric old kook people who could only talk about their 'perfect' lives and their well-succeeded grandchildren. You tried your best to show interest, but your mind kept drifting off. You nodded politely at them, and every so often, you mustered up a fake smile to make them think that you were listening to their boring stories.

When you noticed that their attention was no longer on you, which was hardly surprising considering how egocentric they all are, you quietly got up from the table and left. After quickly scanning the backyard in search of your mother, you, fortunately, spotted her in a conversation with her best friends. Taking advantage of the opportunity, you made your way inside the house to use the bathroom.

As you sat down on the toilet, you felt relieved. Not only because you could finally pee, but also after hours of miserably pretending to be anything close to a Kook, you could let your guard down here, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Taking your phone from your clutch, you check for any notifications that you might have missed in the last few hours. While scrolling through Instagram, you noticed your boyfriend had posted a video on his story. In the video, JJ was smoking his Juul, surrounded by the rest of the Pogues who were dancing and singing to some song in the background.

JJ's happy smile, as he hung out with the Pogues, made you feel a sense of joy for him. The Pogues are his true family and he deserves to be this happy and comfortable all the time. Sometimes you were jealous of their relationship. Even though your family has money and shows their love and care for you in their own, unique way, you've always felt like you don't quite fit in with them. It's as if you're the odd one out. At least the Pogues always have each other and their bond is unbreakable.

You snapped a quick selfie and sent it to JJ, showing him how extremely bored you were. After putting your phone back in your clutch bag, you let out a deep sigh, realizing you had to get back to the party before your mom would put up 'missing child' posters. However, as you reached for the door handle, you heard your ringtone go off. A picture you had taken of JJ at the beach during sunset a few weeks ago, filled your phone screen. A warm feeling spread through your chest as you answered the phone, grateful that he had taken the time to call you back.

"Party that bad, huh?", JJ chuckled as he spoke.

"If I have to listen to these fake people for a minute longer, I'll pull a van Gogh myself"

You could hear JJ snickering. "That's one way to answer that question"

"Can't you just hack into a system and send some emergency alert or something?", you whined.

"Honey, I'm definitely not as smart as Pope, but what I can do is try to sneak you away?"

"Tempting as that sounds, my mom would kill me"

"C'mon baby, we both know your mom loves her reputation too much to kill her daughter", JJ joked.

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny JJ, besides I don't want to be a burden to the rest of the Pogues."

You heard JJ scoff. Since knowing JJ, you've met the Pogues a few times, yet each meeting seemed to grow more awkward than the previous one. JJ always reassures you that the rest of the Pogues just have a hard time getting comfortable around the idea that he is dating a kook, or well just kooks in general, and that it's never because of your personality. "Before you know it, they will love you as much as I do", was what he told you occasionally. But you just can't help taking it personal.

"Y/n, stop being so stubborn, and let us help you. I want you here as much as you want to leave that party. Be ready in ten. I won't take no for an answer."

You were about to protest, but before you could, the distant chatter of the other Pogues in the background went silent, indicating that JJ had already ended the call.

After giving yourself a final look in the mirror and letting out another heavy breath, you opened the door and made your way back to the party outside.

Everyone was still engrossed in conversation, and it appeared that no one noticed you had been gone. It gives you a glimmer of hope that you might be able to slip away from the party without your parents noticing. However, at the same time, you can't help but recall a few years ago when you did the same thing, only to receive a month-long grounding from them.

After nervously looking ahead for a while, and making up different scenarios in your head, you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder. Irritated, thinking it's one of your parents wanting to remind you to be more social, you turn around.

"You look like you could use another drink. Can I maybe offer you this one?"

In front of you stood JJ, dressed up as a waiter, holding a champagne glass. He gave you that annoying but charming smirk of his.

You took the champagne from him and chugged the entire drink, making JJ chuckle.

"Thanks, you always know exactly what I need babe"

You and JJ both laughed and you turned around looking for your parents. Your mother was still talking to her friends, while your father discussed work matters as usual.

"C'mon, let's go before my parents see us leaving". You were still nervous about the consequences, but decided that, that would be a problem for later. There's nothing you want more than to be with JJ right now.

JJ took your hand and quickly led you to the front of the house. Before reaching the gate, he suddenly stopped and gave you a kiss.

"Hi baby", he spoke softly.

You smiled. "Hi, Jay".

JJ gestured with his head towards the gate. "The others are right outside waiting for us." He squeezed your hand to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You nodded and followed him.

As you turned the corner, you saw the rest of the Pogues waiting next to the Twinkie. They were talking, but stopped abruptly when they saw the two of you approaching. Pope waved shyly towards you, while John B approached you enthusiastically. "That was quick"

"Yeah, I thought those kooks would give you more trouble", Kie said, rolling her eyes and emphasizing the words 'those kooks'. You saw Pope nudge Kiara. “Sorry, no offense to you of course”, she quickly realized her mistake. You smiled weakly and shrugged your shoulder. 'Well, luckily I don't see myself as a Kook'.

There was an awkward silence until JJ cleared his throat and walked over to the Twinkie to open the door. "Let's go back to the Chateau shall we?"

You got into the back of the Twinkie first, expecting JJ to follow you, but instead, it was Kie and Pope as John B and JJ got into the front seats having their own conversation. Kie sat beside you and turned toward you.

"Hey, I want to apologize if we ever made you feel unwelcome. We just had to get used to a new person in the group, but we see how happy you make JJ and that is the most important thing for us."

"Yeah, and you're real nice and fun to hang out with Y/n", Pope added.

You smiled, "Thanks, that means a lot to me."

"And I'm actually happy there is finally a girl in this group, I love these boys but I also really need some girl time", Kiara said making everyone laugh.

You locked eyes with JJ who was already smiling and gave you a wink. A few seconds later you heard your phone go off and saw that you received a text from JJ that said "I told you they were going to love you." You rolled your eyes at him, but chuckled nonetheless. You finally felt like you belonged there.

The rest of the night was spent hanging out at the Chateau, laughing, dancing, and getting to know the Pogues better.

As for your parents, you later found out that they had tried to call you many times that night, so you ended up being grounded again, but you really couldn't care less because JJ and the Pogues were helping you through it. They would always be there for you.

aaaah the end!! so so happy I finally finished a fic again. I was busy with my graduation project and had massive writers block, but I'm back! So if you have any requests or you just want to talk to me? LMK ❤️ Okay, love you byee x

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #obx fanfic #obx fluff #reader x platonic!pogues #poguestyle

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

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My brain got possessed by the typo (accidental monster Dream from https://www.tumblr.com/gabessquishytum/744409898494853120/okay-au-with-mpreg-monster-dream-is-heavily?source=share), so let's have a pregnant monster Dream now! Dream is an ancient Mara spirit who used to visit people in their sleep and torture them with nightmares. Not anymore, though - he's been depressed for the last millennia or so, and he's in semi-retirement or on an extra-long vacation, and he just chooses some good, solid houses where he hangs out as a monster under the bed. He needs to spin nightmares to feed, but since he's depressed and all, he gets sustenance simply from being near sleeping minds. It's less nutritional, but it keeps him alive, although he starves. He's been living in a nice Victorian townhouse for the last century, and he loves the place. There's a king-size bed with a canopy in the master bedroom, and Dream very much approves of it. All of a sudden, his routine is somewhat disturbed: the house is sold, the previous owners move out, and there comes a new man. Dream is wary of him at first (what if he picks up a bed Dream doesn't like?), but they get on well. Hob - that's his name - is rather unobtrusive. He reads a lot and always keeps piles of interesting books on the bedside table, has a pleasant voice (he often laughs when talking with his friends over the phone and sometimes talks to himself), and even cleans all the dust under the bed. Regularly. Dream is enchanted! His curiosity picked up, he visits Hob in his dream. He doesn't mean to make it a nightmare and just wants to peek to know him better, but the dream takes a surprising turn. Hob...comes on to him. Dream looks essentially like a corpse, with paper-white skin, glowing eyes, and wild black hair, and he's well aware of his looks. Humans are supposed to find him scary. They always do. And here is Hob, who looks at him reverently and wants to fuck him. Dream is very confused, but he doesn't mind at all: while he's never done it, he knows about the things humans like to do in their beds at night. He's lived under those beds long enough, wishing there was someone to touch him lovingly and whisper sweet nothings to him, too…And if he seizes the opportunity to make that wish come true, even if just for one night, who's there to blame him? He lets Hob make love to him and retreats under the bed in the morning holding that memory dear. Hob wakes up with a distinct feeling that he's never had such a vivid (and hot!) dream before and wishes that his otherwordly lover, who was so shy, responsive, and passionate, was real. A few weeks pass in mutual longing: Dream wishes he was someone loveable, Hob wishes he met someone like that in reality. Or at least saw in his dreams again! Soon, Dream feels that his hunger intensifies and walks the dreams of neighbors to feed properly. It gets worse. He's always hungry and miserable, and his lower back aches, and when he takes a minute to think what the hell is wrong with him, he feels a life growing inside and realizes that he's knocked up. Dream considers his options and decides to talk to Hob. He was so gentle and loving with him, after all...Of course, there's no way he would want Dream and his baby if he finds out the truth. Or is it?

Magic monster dream baby conceived from magic dream romance!!! I absolutely love it. Hob sure is in for a surprise, isn't he?!

At first, Dream goes back into Hob’s dreams to speak with him. He's far too scared to just wriggle out from under the bed and confront Hob in the real world. He appears to Hob and explains that he's pregnant, and that it's all real, and Hob is very kind to him. He hugs Dream and kisses him and promises him that all will be well. Still, he gets the shock of his life when he wakes up and finds Dream anxiously sitting on the edge of his bed. When Dream said it was real, Hob didn't quite believe him... until now.

But Hib doesn't freak out. He asks Dream to explain who/what he is. Dream gives an outline of what his species are, how he's supposed to create nightmares and absorb the energy that comes from the fear and dread. He also explains that he hasn't really done much of that lately. And that's he's worried about the baby. He doesn't even know how this pregnancy is supposed to work.

Hob listens carefully and wholeheartedly promises to help. He tells Dream that he must start weaving nightmares again - he needs to eat! He can start on Hob, who really doesn't mind being scared (fear makes him horny, more than anything). As for the baby, well, they'll work it out together. Whether it's half human or all dream, Hob wants the child as much as he wants Dream. He would like to try and make a relationship work between them.

He even shuffles under the bed with Dream to cuddle him where he feels safe and secure. Although he makes clear that Dream is also welcome IN the bed, too.

Dream is just awestruck by the whole situation. Hob seems to genuinely want him, a thing that seems utterly impossible. Dream has long considered himself unlovable, hence his prolonged periods of isolation and depression. It seems impossible that Hob would to build a life with him. But he looks at Dream like he's precious, magical, worthy of love and adoration... is it truly possible that Dream could live in contentment with his baby and this human?

Hob (who is falling more and more in love with every passing minute) sure hopes so.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw monsterfucking #cw mpreg

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jamietwat · 4 months

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Jamie would 100% make Roy a dating app profile sometime after the Keeley rejecting both of them thing to try to help him move on and meet people when clearly he’s refusing to get back out there organically and he’d think he’s being so helpful and generous and the best wingman ever. He’d handpick what he considers the sexiest pictures he can find and put a bunch of shit Roy would never say thinking he’s being accurate and helpful and not even taking the clear opportunity to make a joke account to embarrass him or anything when he easily could have just made fun of him and chosen the worst pictures possible instead

And then he would be SO offended when it doesn’t go well when Roy finds out about it and is not properly appreciative at all

Roy thinks it’s Jamie’s account when he starts showing Roy girls like what do you think of her and asking him way too many questions when Roy has no interest in participating and has no idea why the fuck Jamie seems incapable of swiping without trying to get Roy’s opinions first. Meanwhile, Roy’s giving one word answers at first and then increasingly trying to brush him off when he doesn’t stop and then he’s just flat out like “Choose your own dates and leave me the fuck out of it” and Jamie’s like “Nah, this is your account. You should have a say” and instead of being grateful and appreciative and thanking Jamie for being oh so generous with his time and energy, Roy just scowls at him and growls out “You did not make a fucking Tinder profile for me” and Jamie just smirks and decides now is not the right moment yet to mention that he actually made him accounts on like three different apps because he wasn’t sure which Roy would like best

Roy barks at him to delete it and Jamie’s all whiny like “Come on, I spent a lot of time on these and you haven’t even considered it. Plus, even if you’re not ready to date someone yet, you’d still be less miserable to be around if you at least found someone to shag in the meantime”

And Roy’s like “Delete it. I don’t want a fucking Tinder profile.” And Jamie looks at him confused for a moment and then seems to have an epiphany as he goes “Oh, do you want a Grindr one instead? Hold on a second” and he flips to a different app and Roy’s too busy being baffled by the fact that Grindr is already on Jamie’s phone and that he’s having to sign out of his own account to try to make one for Roy to even stop him before he’s already trying to sign up for a new account and Roy goes “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want any dating app”

And Jamie pauses his typing and turns and looks at him so skeptically and so judgily and suddenly somehow Roy is trying to fight for his life trying to defend why he’s not looking for some random stranger to date or fuck around with

#Also a possibility: Jamie not signing out of his and asking Roy what he thinks of #guys and when Roy is like stop that why did you make me a Grindr profile why are you swiping on guys and even if you were WHY that one #And Roy’s trying to get the phone out of Jamie’s hand and when he does Jamie’s like stop that’s my account let me swipe #on him I was just trying to find out what kind of guys you’d be into before making yours 😔#+ Roy being so critical of Jamie’s taste in men like him??? seriously??? because the idea of Jamie messaging any of them bothers him #I may turn this into a RoyJamie fic at some point or possibly RoyJamie that has Keeley later too #Obviously Roy’s brain obsesses over Jamie’s Grindr profile and what he may or may not be doing with it just as much as he obsesses over #Jamie in general after this and he’s stuck trying to figure out how to casually bring it back up to him #(Spoiler alert: it’s Roy so it absolutely won’t be casual and yet Jamie won’t care that it isn’t at all #)#Jamie would GLADLY be the one fucking around with Roy but he’s also out here advocating for Roy to fuck in general #RoyJamie #Roy Kent #Jamie Tartt #Ted Lasso #Mine #Grindr fic #Putting that there for when I come back to this because I have a lot of thoughts #Once again I refuse to reread words and edit rn so I’ll just be bummed about the errors later

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engie-ivy · 21 days

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(Inspired by @wolfstarmicrofic 's Alternative Universes theme! A sort of combined Performer AU and College AU🙂)

1058 words

Sirius Black's emotional break-up songs are topping the charts all over the world. But hearing those songs everywhere he goes, Remus is about to reach his breaking point.

With His Song

Home is where the heart is,

But it's not the concrete, nor the stone,

Not the room you sit in,

But the smile that lights it up.

Not the bed you sleep in,

But the heartbeat besides your own.

Home is where the heart is,

But it's not necessarily a place,

Sometimes, it's tracing the scars on someone's hand,

Sometimes, it's counting the freckles on someone's face.

It's been so long,

Coming home to you,

And did you know,

I could easily move on?

But the truth is,

I just don't want to.

If home is where the heart is,

Then baby, could it be,

That your home is still with me?

Mary lets out a sigh that seems to be coming from somewhere deep inside of her. “My god, I'm going to listen to that song on repeat for the rest of the week,” and after a moment she adds “potentially the rest of my life.”

“Then you're gonna have to get some headphones,” Remus says. “Because I'm already getting sick of hearing it.”

Mary gasps and clutches her chest. “Blasphemy!”

Remus gives her an unimpressed look. “I don't think you're using that word right.”

“‘Irreverence toward something considered sacred or inviolable’,” Mary states unfazed. “So yes, the perfect description of you insulting Sirius Black's music.”

Emmeline nods emphatically.

Remus sighs. “I'm not saying it's a bad song,” he says. “Just that I'm getting tired of hearing it everywhere, all the time.”

Mary opens her mouth to retort, but Emmeline interjects.

“I do sort of relate. It has gotten a painful tinge to hear the song, now that I know I won't be seeing Sirius Black perform it live…”

“You didn't get tickets for his show?” Marlene asks.

“No,” Emmeline sighs miserably. “I'm on the waiting list. Number 329.”

“Not as bad as Hestia. She's number 1550 or something.”

Emmeline shrugs. “In the end, it makes no difference. 329 or 1550, neither one of us is going to the concert. I mean, 329 people will have to die, and I don't reckon I'd be that lucky…”

“Emmeline!” Lily scolds.

“Well, that's the only excuse for not going to a Sirius Black concert, literally being dead,” Mary says. “I'd actually skip my mum’s funeral if I could see him live.”

“Mary!”

“No, no, Lils,” Emmeline says. “You don't know Mary's mum. If Mary were to miss out on seeing Sirius Black for her funeral, she'd actually come back from the death to haunt her.”

Mary nods. “She's a huge fan. Not going to a Sirius Black concert would be disrespecting her memory.” She glances over at Remus. “She might have some things to say as well if she hears that my actual roommate has openly disrespected Sirius Black’s music.”

Remus sticks out his tongue. “Sue me.”

“As soon as they create a law that makes depreciating Sirius Black illegal, which they should, I will!”

“Anyhow,” Emmeline says. “I haven't heard Sirius Black's voice for almost five minutes and I'm getting withdrawal symptoms,” and she reaches out to put the record back on.

Remus gets up to his feet. “That's my cue to leave.”

“You don't have to, Remus,” Lily says quickly. “If you really don't want us to, we won't put on his music. We value your company more than listening to Sirius Black.”

“Says who? Ow!” Emmeline rubs her shin where Lily kicked her.

Remus smiles at Lily. “Thanks, Lils, but it's okay. I have a paper I need to work on anyway.”

The moment Remus closes the door to his bedroom, he lets out a sigh that seems to be coming from somewhere deep inside of him.

Then, almost without thinking, he takes out his phone and punches in the number by heart.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line sounds surprised and, dare Remus think, hopeful?

“You have to stop doing this,” Remus hears himself say. “No,” he then corrects himself. “You don't have to do anything. I'm asking you. Please stop doing this.”

“Remus, what are you talking about?” He seems to be walking away from something– A promo event? A fancy dinner? An exclusive party?– as Remus can hear the voices in the background grow softer. Remus feels a brief hint of satisfaction; no matter how big the event he's at, how important the people he's with, when Remus calls, he gets up and walks away to talk to him, but Remus quickly corrects himself, because it's not like that anymore.

“It's killing me,” Remus admits, pressing a hand against his forehead. “I understand, but… God, it's killing me.”

“Rem,” Sirius, because of course it's Sirius, says gently. “You're still not making much sense. What are you trying to say? Why are you suddenly calling me? Why… Why now?”

“Your latest releases,” Remus says, as he starts pacing the room, though he can barely take two steps before he reaches the opposite wall. It's rather telling of the difference between them, he can't help but think. Sirius undoubtedly in some grand building surrounded by dozens of people who would fall over themselves to cater to his every whim, and Remus hiding out in his eight square meter bedroom cluttered with textbooks and scribbled notes. “I get why you do it. I'm probably terribly biased,” he lets out a brief laugh. “But I think the songs you wrote when we were together, and even after we just broke up, are your best songs, so I get that you would want to release them, to share them with the world and show everyone once again just how bloody talented you are. And you have every right. They're your works, your creations. But gods, Sirius, I can't pretend anymore.”

“Pretend,” Sirius repeats, his voice almost a whisper, and Remus lets it all out.

“I can't pretend anymore that hearing those songs everywhere I go all the damn time doesn't make me want to die! That it doesn't just break me, to hear your voice sing those words, knowing what they once meant, and knowing that they don't mean that anymore! That you don't mean that anymore.”

“Remus,” Sirius interrupts sharply, and Remus immediately stops talking as Sirius speaks. “Do you really think I could sing those words like that, if I didn't still feel that way?”

And Remus’ breath catches in his throat.

#famous sirius black #singer sirius black #post breakup #academic remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

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sissylittlefeather · 5 months

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How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 6

A/N: I'm sorry this one took so long! I have a hard time writing sometimes, but y'all keep me inspired and I thank you for it. ICYMI, this is the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Special thanks to @ccab for loving this series so much that I can't abandon it. This one's for you, baby.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, AND DRINKING, POSSIBLE ALCOHOLISM, and ANGSTTTTTT

Word count: ~3.5k

There's no way he's leaving you now. Not like this.

******

When your alarm goes off the next morning you roll over and groan, turning it off haphazardly. Elvis has been awake for a while, watching you sleep. He knows today might be rough for you, but he has a question that's burning in his mind and just won't go away. Seeing you last night has him worried about your wellbeing.

"You alright, honey?"

"Mmm. No." You groan and snuggle into his chest. Your hangover has your head pounding and your stomach rolling over. You want nothing more than to sleep in his arms for the next 24 hours, but he seems determined to wake you up.

"You need food. Come on." He tries to get you out of the bed, but you don't move.

"Later. I need sleep."

"Y/n, it's almost noon." You laugh.

"So much for my 10:30 class."

"Come on, honey. We gotta get up."

"Why??" You whine and snuggle under the covers again.

"Because we need to talk." This gets your attention. It doesn't sound like he has a good talk in mind. Has he had enough of you? You should've known this was coming. You've been a mess for almost two years now. It makes sense that he would notice it and want to cut ties as soon as possible. Making a portal will be difficult if he doesn't love you or even like you anymore. You sit up and grimace.

"Talk about what?"

"Let's just go get some food." Somehow, you manage to slink out of bed and get some clothes on. You know you must look terrible, but you don't care. It matches the way you feel, both physically and emotionally. He's not even gone yet and you already miss him.

About twenty minutes later, you find yourself in a booth at a local breakfast place and he waits for you to finish as many fried potatoes as you can stomach before he comes back to his question.

"Y/n, I told you we need to talk about something."

"I know. You're ready to leave and never come back, aren't you?"

"What? No. The exact opposite. I'm worried about you."

"About me? Why?"

"Are you happy?"

"Right now?" You look around the restaurant and consider your current level of happiness.

"No. When I'm not here. Are you... are you okay?" You look down at your hands. So he has picked up on the fact that you're not doing so great. You think for a long time before you answer him. Should you be honest and tell him that you've been miserable every day for almost two years? Or should you act like everything is fine, so he'll go back through the portal to his own life? You look back up into his eyes and know you can't lie.

"No. I'm not." He grabs your hand where it sits on the table and watches as your eyes fill with tears.

"That's what I was afraid of. It's my fault isn't it?" He rubs small circles on the back of your hand.

"No, Elvis it's not you. I just should never have left you alone. I know how much it hurt you. I'll regret it forever." A single tear slides down your cheek.

"Honey, no. You had to go. We didn't know any other way. I understand that. I don't blame you for anything." He stands up and scoots in next to you on your side of the booth as the tears start to stream down your face and your shoulders quake with the intensity of your sadness. You feel his arm wrap around you and he holds you as tightly as he can without hurting you. You cry and cry into his chest and it feels like all the pain from the last two years finally has some release.

He holds you and looks at the ceiling trying not to let his own tears fall. His resolve to never leave you gets stronger and stronger. How could he when he knows how badly you need him?

******

You spend the next week together and slowly you start to feel better. His presence is reassuring and almost healing. Knowing that he's forgiven you does wonders for your depression. Still, every time he ignores a portal, a small part of you worries that he might be missing his last chance. You know he has to go back. He has to become the man the world knows. And as much as you want to keep him here, you know he can't stay forever.

On Friday, one of your friends invites you to a party at his house. Elvis is nervous about you drinking again, but he agrees to come along just to be with you. Before you head over, your friends come over to pre-party like always. The shots of Fireball start to go around again and Elvis throws back two just to try to ease his nerves about how the night will go. He has a bad feeling, for some reason, but the Fireball helps.

By the time you get to the party, you're both pretty relaxed and ready to have a good time. You stay together and mingle with the other party guests. When you decide it's time for a second drink, though he tries to stop you gently.

"Y/n, are you sure? Remember how you felt on Monday?" You stop and look up at him surprised.

"I'm sorry; are you my dad now?" He rolls his eyes as you walk away to get another drink. He follows close behind you.

"No, I'm just sayin' maybe you don't really wanna do this again." He steps in between you and the bar. "You know I love you. I just want what's best for you."

"Ha. Okay. How about this: I'll listen to you when you start listening to me about leaving." The alcohol in your system makes you brazen. You can't ignore it anymore.

"That is not the same at all, honey."

"Except it is. I know what's best for you, you know what's best for me. Now, let me get a drink, please." The thought of sending him through the portal inspires you to drink even more, but you know it has to be done. Maybe if you push him away now, it'll be easier for both of you. He steps out of the way to let you walk up to the bar. To your surprise, he gets himself another two shots of Fireball. This may not end well for either of you. When you get away from the bar, he puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close. You think back to your earlier plan to push him away. Despite the unbelievable comfort you find in his embrace, you know now is the time.

"You know, you don't always have to stay with me. You can walk around and talk to people. I'm fine." He looks down into your face, shocked.

"Doll, I'm perfectly happy to stay right here. Fore-"

"Don't say it." You interrupt him before he can. This whole situation is breaking your heart and you just need him to get it over with and go. Before either of you can say anything else though, your friend, Zach, that lives at the house calls to him.

"John! What's up, man?" He pats him on the back and shakes his hand. Elvis quickly rearranges his face to hide everything he's feeling as a result of your conversation. Sometimes you forget he's such a talented performer, but watching him change like this brings it all back to you.

They chat for a bit about music, since Zach was present for Elvis's karaoke success and he plays the guitar himself. Somehow the conversation ends with Zach fetching two guitars from his bedroom.

"Hey, yo, cut the music!" Zach hollers to no one in particular. The party music stops and the jam session begins. Luckily, Zach is an Elvis fan and there's a good number of songs they can play together. When Elvis starts to sing, you notice something you haven't before: the other girls. He certainly has their attention as they stand in various states of attraction. Some giggle, some blush, and some simply stand with their mouths slightly open. You look back at him and he's eating it up. Maybe it's the alcohol, but maybe it's just who he is. You shouldn't be surprised. You've read about him and his ways with women. It's different to see it in action when he's supposed to be with you, though. A few of them come close to him and sit down around him and he sings directly to them with a flirty smile. When he winks at your friend Stephanie, you turn away and head to the bar. There's only one guy back there, since everyone else is busy watching the music taking place in the living room.

"What're you drinkin'?"

"I don't care. Give me a shot of anything."

"A girl after my own heart." He smiles and you notice he's actually really cute with his round blue eyes and sandy brown hair fixed in a faux hawk. You take the shot that he hands you and smile in return.

"Thanks. I'm y/n." You reach out to shake his hand and he kisses yours gently.

"I'm Jeff. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He's a little dorky, but you're kind of into it.

"You're not an Elvis fan, I take it?" He asks.

"Ha, no that's not exactly... I just... it's hard to explain."

"No worries. We can talk about something else. What's the best concert you've ever been to?"

Your conversation continues while Elvis plays in the living room. He looks up from the throng of girls that has gathered around him to try to find you, but you're nowhere to be found. He turns back to Zach and hands him the guitar.

"Thanks, that was fun. I've gotta find my girl, though." The party music starts back up and the girls close in on him to try to get him to dance, or more, but he gently brushes them off. He's getting more and more nervous about your whereabouts. When he finds you, you're doing another shot with Jeff. After you finish it, you lean your head on his shoulder and laugh. You've had more than enough alcohol and you're clearly not thinking straight. Elvis stands there in shock for a good thirty seconds before he walks up to you.

"Are you having fun?"

"Oh shit, it's my boyfriend." You giggle and pop your head up.

"Something like that." He wraps his arm around you and pulls you over to him. "Come on, it's time to go."

"Maybe I don't want to leave. Maybe I want to stay here with Jeff." You gesture to the guy at the bar. Elvis's eyes burn with something you haven't seen before. It's a kind of possessive anger and jealousy and you should know not to push him. But you're drunk and sad and want to push him away, so you double down. "Maybe you should take one of your fangirls home."

"Oh shit." Jeff says and laughs out loud. Elvis turns to him and grabs the front of his shirt.

"Give me an excuse, fucker." This sobers you significantly and you step in between them facing Elvis.

"Babe, don't. Okay? I'll go with you." You almost called him Elvis in front of all these people, but you caught it at the last second. Still, the pet name seems to pull him back down to earth and soften him. He lets go of Jeff's shirt and puts his arm around your shoulders.

"Let's get the hell outta here." He guides you to the exit, forgetting that you drove and shouldn't drive home. He digs your keys out of your purse and gets you settled in the front seat. Then, he slides into your seat behind the steering wheel. He knows how to drive a car, obviously, but this is not any kind of car he's familiar with. It takes him a good ten minutes, but he eventually figures out the push-button start and how to adjust your mirrors and seat with the electric controls. While he's doing all of that, all you can do is look out the window and cry quietly. You know what needs to happen tonight. And more importantly, you know what you're sending him back to. Or rather, who you're sending him back to. He'll fall in love a few times and none of them will be with you. And then he'll get married. That won't be you either. You can't live like this anymore. You have to let him go. And the very thought of that damn near breaks you.

"Hon? What's wrong?" He's finally figured out how to drive your car and noticed that you're crying.

"You have to leave. Tonight."

"What the hell? Because of the other girls? Look, I'm sorry about that. But I don't want any of them. I don't want anyone but you." He reaches out and touches your face and it just makes you cry harder.

"No, not because of that."

"Then let's just forget about it. I'm not going anywhere." You ride the rest of the way in silence with his hand in yours, tears still sliding down your face.

Finally, you get back to your house and you've managed to stop crying. He comes around to your side to help you out of the car. You're so exhausted from the events of the evening that he half-carries you to your room.

When you make it inside, you stand in your room just looking at each other. He leans down and kisses your mouth gently. You grab the back of his neck and pull him into a deeper kiss, putting every emotion you're feeling into the movement of your tongue against his. He snakes his arms around your waist and holds you close, pushing your hips into his. You feel his erection growing and swallow the lump in your throat. He pulls back and looks into your eyes.

"You're not too drunk for this?"

"I'm really not. I promise." He sees how clear your eyes are and knows you're telling the truth, so he goes back to kissing you. You know you'll need to have sex with him to do what needs to be done. But the fact that this is probably the last time you will hits you squarely in your chest and settles there.

He pulls your shirt up and over your head and you do the same with his. He presses his chest to yours and puts his hands behind your back to undo your bra. For the first time, he manages to get it off all by himself.

"Ah ha! I got it!" He's so excited that he tosses your bra to the side and lifts you so that your legs are wrapped around his waist. You grab onto him and hold him a little too tightly. He lays you down on the bed, climbing in next to you, and puts his hand on the side of your face.

"Doll, what's wrong? Please tell me." You search for something you can tell him that won't give away your plan.

"I'm just sad again. Ignore me."

"You know I can't do that. Do you not want to do this?"

"No! I want to! I need it. Please." He remembers how you were there for him when he needed you and nods.

"Just tell me if you want me to stop." He runs his hand down your neck to your chest, massaging your breast gently. Then, he keeps going down to your hip, pulling you into him. He kisses down your neck and slides his hand under your pants and down to your center. Teasing your entrance with his finger, he gathers some of the wetness gathered there and begins to massage your clit. You moan softly and your hips buck forward into his hand.

"Does that feel good, baby?"

"God, yes."

"Good. I just wanna make you feel good tonight." You whimper as he pulls his hand out to unbutton your jeans and slide them down your legs and off. He makes his way back up to your center, pressing hot kisses to your legs along the way. When he gets back up to the place where your thighs come together, he presses a kiss to you through your panties. He pulls them off too and pushes his mouth onto you, settling his tongue on your clit. He licks up each side and then begins to move over and around it in the way that only he can.

"Yes! Elvis!" You moan loudly and run your fingers through his hair.

"That's my good girl." He says it quickly and goes back to licking you. You feel the pressure of your orgasm gathering in your center as he laps at you, moving down to slide his tongue into your slit periodically. Finally, he slips two fingers into you and pushes them in and out quickly while he tightens his tongue and drags it over your clit repeatedly.

"Oh God! I'm gonna come!" You whisper breathlessly.

"Do it, baby, come for me. I wanna feel you." Just as he ends his sentence, you feel the burst of your orgasm take off and reverberate across your body.

"Ohhhhhh, fuck, yes." You moan through gritted teeth as you pulse around his fingers. He smiles and kisses your clit one last time before taking his pants off.

The thing that's settled in your chest threatens to come screaming out of you and you feel the tears begin to gather again. As he climbs back up your body, you grab him and pull him into a kiss, hoping you can distract him from the fact that you're almost crying again. You press your forehead to his with your eyes closed and whisper.

"Make love to me, Elvis." He pulls back and looks you in the eye. Something is wrong and he knows it.

"Do you know how much I love you, y/n?"

You nod and lose control of the tears as they run down your cheeks. "You're sure this is what you want?"

"Yes, please. I need to know you love me." He lines his cock up with your entrance and pushes into you slowly. When he fills you fully, he pulls back and slides into you again.

"I love you more than I ever thought was possible." He kisses your cheek and thrusts into you again. "I love you so much that I don't even feel like I'm fully myself without you." Your voice catches in your throat.

"Please don't say that."

"Y/n, I love you with everything that I am." He continues to push into you slowly, picking up speed with each thrust. You grab him and hold him tightly while he moves against you. You wrap your legs around him and try to get as close to him as possible. If you could, you'd melt into him completely and stay with him forever. But you can't and you know that. So instead you hold him and cry silently as he drives into you as gently and lovingly as possible.

"I'm gettin' close, doll." You nod and he kisses the tears on your cheeks. He begins to pump in and out faster before he reaches his climax and moans loudly, shuddering into you. He pulls out of you and rolls over, cradling you against his chest.

When you hear the buzzing sound, you squeeze him tight and then stand up. Your hands are shaking and the tears continue to flow.

"Get up, Elvis. You have to get dressed."

"What? No. I told you-"

"Do you want to go through naked?!" You yell at him and he stands up ready to fight you on this.

"I'm not going! I'm staying here with you forever, y/n! I can't leave you. You're the love of my life."

"No. I'm not. You have to go back to her. You have to get married and be a dad. I can't take those things from you." You toss him his pants and he puts them on without thinking.

"Then I'll marry you. I'll have babies with you. That's what I want anyway!"

"You can't. Elvis, God, I'm so sorry. I'm so so so sorry. You know I will always love you, right?"

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"For this." You shove the rest of his uniform into his hands and push on his chest with both hands as hard as you can. You manage to catch him off guard just enough and he stumbles backwards, falling through the portal.

"Nooo!!" You hear him yell as he disappears.

The portal closes with a pop.

You fall to the floor and sob openly.

******

Back in 1960, Elvis falls backwards onto the floor of the train station and scrambles into the bathroom. He manages to get his uniform back on and then slides down the wall, tears streaming down his face.

What will happen to you without him?

Will he ever see you again?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Will there be a next chapter?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #how the web was woven

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astrobei · 1 year

Text

for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others.

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket.

Will’s flashlight sputters again.

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight.

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him.

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding.

God. He’s so screwed. “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this.

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

#hiiii quin so sorry but tumblr ate ur og ask #i did immediately memorize it tho bc i read it and i was like Oh Yes #anyways ik u asked for maybe s5 too #and idk why this is where my mind went #there are a million other s5 scenarios that i could've written #but something about byler kissing in dark closets.... haha #yeah <3 #anyways i hope u like this !!#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #fun sized fics #also fun fact for anyone who reads my fics #this was rly close to my og concept for ive come home im so cold #like the third chapter #but that story got away from me so #this isn't the Same but its similar !! kind of.#ok bye

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bonefall · 3 months

Note

Talk and/or rant about why you like Bumble from DotC please?

Bumble makes me want to cry. Her story is just... heartbreaking. She's one of the sweetest, most honest characters in the entire series, and the way she is abused by Tom the Wifebeater and denied asylum by the Moor Cats, then murdered for Clear Sky's arc, genuinely makes me feel sick.

But I've talked about that before. Many, many times. Let me celebrate her brief life for this one post, just covering her during The Sun Trail. Her first appearance in Book 2 where Clear Sky murders her, Thunder Rising, is the start of the scene that begins her slow, agonizing death.

I don't only love her out of spite for how she died; I love her because she was a wonderful, warm, confident character, and an excellent friend. She provided relief from the agonizing Settler group, who are insufferably angsty and controlling of each other, and most importantly, space away from Turtle Tail's awful friend, Gray Wing.

The closer that Bumble gets to Turtle Tail, the more confrontational Gray Wing becomes. He starts to hate Bumble, as if she's stealing his Plan B while he spends all the rest of his time with Storm. I'm convinced that the writers (and the fandom sometimes <_<) believe that this is "compelling romantic drama" which makes Turtle x Gray sweeter when it finally happens, but it just makes me feel like TurtleGray is the Bad Ending for every woman character involved.

After a brief appearance as she witnesses the Settlers arrive on the moor, the very first time we get to meet Bumble is when Gray Wing and Turtle Tail are hanging out on some sunny rocks. She's cheerful, outgoing, and curious, wanting to get to know her new neighbors.

Gray Wing, the POV character, immediately makes an incorrect assumption about her weight, thinking she won't be able to climb. She can, just fine, and she plays an Uno Reverse card on how skinny they are lmao

First thing out of her mouth is, "Oh you are SKIN AND BONES!!" Same energy as grandma who is about to make you feel more full than you have ever been in your entire life, considering she's going to open her home to Turts in a couple chapters.

They get into a conversation where Bumble asks where they came from, and why they left the mountains. She remains friendly and open, just enjoying small talk with these total strangers. She's enjoyable and lighthearted, in welcome contrast to the Settler's group which is full of moping, miserable cats.

(and in my live-read I was even frustrated at the time by how it seemed like the Settlers would have 1 or 2 nice moments, and then go back to fighting or brooding. It's unpleasant.)

In this first interaction it's just a glimmer, but it seems that what Turtle Tail LIKES about Bumble is that she makes her feel special. She LISTENS, unlike how Gray Wing is going to be in a couple of chapters.

She likes telling the shocking tale of giant birds to Bumble, and Bumble is happy that they're away from such hardships now. When Turtle Tail turns the questions back on her, Bumble is happy to gush about her life as a house cat.

She loves her people, playing with their children and always having plenty of food, explaining that when she gets bored she comes to the woods for a nice walk. Then, she mentions something very important.

Historically, there WAS no aggression towards outsiders. Cats like Bumble didn't take what they didn't need, and were left alone for it. This first interaction paints the full picture. Bumble wasn't afraid of the Settlers because there never was a reason to be scared.

CLEAR SKY is inventing the borders to aggrieve random cats. Him. His idea. Before him, you could walk through the forest freely like Bumble did.

This is before the arc irrevocably goes up in flames at the end of Book 3 by committing to a Clear Sky "Redemption," and is forced to create One Eye and Slash out of nowhere for Books 4/5/6. Before that absolutely baffling mistake of a choice, it is clear that The Settlers are the problem.

There WAS no Slash or One Eye. They were retconned in midway through the arc to make Clear Sky and The Settlers look less bad.

After this exchange, Turtle Tail dismisses Bumble's way of life and chuckles at a joke Gray Wing makes about how they'll probably never see Bumble again because she'll be afraid of them... but she's thinking about her. It strikes me as being the same kind of feeling as the swirling, murky feeling of a new crush.

Can't get the chunky kitty girl out of her head, can you, Turtle Tail?

We don't see Bumble for a few more chapters, but in her next appearance, it's implied she's been visiting Turtle Tail for a while. Gray Wing sees them sharing a meal. Please note how Turts is immediately defensive. As if she feels like she's being caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

(Tangent: note the constant suspicion and aggression towards Wind and Gorse. who live here.)

Gray Wing is as oblivious as ever. For a character described as "wise" he's incredibly dense towards the feelings of others. Yet, always, ALWAYS, Bumble is cheerful. This brewing animosity is NOT returned, she's happy to see him again.

He tries to recruit her to the moor group and she enthusiastically declines with a "No way! I love my life, actually!"

As soon as she's out of earshot, Here Comes The Confrontation. The exact one that Turtle Tail correctly anticipated when she got defensive earlier;

"You shouldn't have friends I don't approve of, Turtle Tail. It bothers me."

How can I NOT love Bumble? When her primary purpose is to be a friend for Turtle Tail, while Gray Wing is either ignoring her or sending her on guilt trips through this entire book? She's RELIEF for a woman who's being treated like trash, and every time she shows up she's doing something cute or helpful!

(Tangent: This book's pacing is garbage. The next scene is a sudden fox raid where a billion foxes attack the camp, and then the Settlers reveal that they don't know what a fox is. BUMBLE taught Turtle Tail about the danger of foxes. This is contradicted by the later books where there's cats back at the tribe named after foxes and Quiet Rain calls her shittiest son a foxheart. But there's waaay worse continuity errors in this arc.)

Gray Wing, the POV, hates her for no goddamn reason. It's right there on the page that he can't give Turtle Tail an answer as to why she should stop hanging out with her. The two continue to fight as Turts desperately tries to salvage their relationship while Gray Wing finds ways to snap at her or offend her.

I think the next appearance of Bumble is actually the most cringeworthy, though. I get secondhand embarrassment reading this one.

Turts just stayed with her friend overnight, and Gray Wing throws a fit about it, hissing at her that she's using the wrong terms and that she's forgotten where she belongs. Bumble watches this all happen like 😬, and then when Turtle Tail apologizes for this asshole having a conniption, he hisses AGAIN and whines about how he doesn't need to be apologized for.

But Bumble, up to her very last appearance in this book, is helpful and open.

After Gray Wing is nearly slaughtered by Fox at the border on Clear Sky's orders, so he kills him in self defense, causing Clear Sky to disown Gray Wing as his brother, which is the final straw for the pregnant Storm to run off, and then The Pacing Brothers have a casual chat over the still-warm corpse of the dead lackey, the input lag finally sends the signal to Gray Wing's brain that he needs to go find Storm.

It's BUMBLE that tells him where she can be found, as always, cutting through tension. Turtle Tail stays behind because she's understandably fed up with Gray Wing, so Bumble brings him where he needs to go. She guides him through the town, over roads, to the abandoned building where Storm is staying.

Gray Wing whines the whole time because he is a loser.

It's also interesting to me that when Bumble's annoyed with him, she doesn't huff or even get rude. She just glances back, and points out that there's disadvantages to his lifestyle too. You get used to it.

In better books, Gray Wing's POV would be considered unreliable in the end. He's an oblivious jackass whose thickness causes him to treat other people poorly, EXCEPT for his monstrous brother, whose violence and abuse he enables through the entire series. Though he's hailed as a "perfect boy so very full of love," he causes a LOT of the problems in his own relationships and familial dynamics.

Smarter books would encourage you to step back and think critically about the events as he perceived them;

Why did his judgement of Bumble begin to harden as Turtle Tail spent more time with her? Did Bumble do anything to deserve this?

Did Gray Wing's behavior lead to Turtle Tail's eventual decision to leave the moor? Were there other factors?

What are the flaws he can identify about himself? How will he grow from this?

Are there broader problems with The Settlers, which may have influenced the mindsets of both Turtle Tail and Gray Wing?

Unfortunately with Gray Wing, the only thing they identify as a "problem" in how he treated Turts in The Sun Trail is that he spent less time with her, as he pursued Storm. The controlling behavior and frequent arguing, the condescension, and the public embarrassment are NOT treated as negative traits to address as the series goes on.

(they never are. These are not directly addressed in any of the other terrible men in the series; Clear Sky, Bramblestar, Raggedstar, etc. only paternal neglect is condemned. Men are even allowed to beat their kids and it will not be called out.)

And breaking through that lens, you see Bumble. Who is just here to be a person that Turtle Tail needs, a good friend, someone who's confident, self-assured, and LOVES the life that she lives. I can't help but feel joy every time she walks onto the screen in The Sun Trail, because Gray Wing is SO frustrating that I'm rooting for Turtle Tail to go somewhere that she'll be appreciated.

It's as if they NEEDED to invent Tom the Wifebeater, who spawns in like some kind of random event just before Thunder Rising (the humans just... went to the shelter and adopted The Worst Cat. No checks on if he's aggressive towards other cats or anything), so that Turtle would HAVE some kind of reason to leave. Because, as you can see here, she wouldn't have gone back otherwise.

#bumble wc #bumble dotc #gray wing hate #warrior cats analysis #Bumble

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 days

Text

Devastation

Requested Here by @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: You leave Tim because he takes out his frustration about a long day on you. The next day, everyone in the station can tell you're both miserable. A surprise calls sends Tim into a devastated spiral as he wonders if what he said was worth it.

Warnings: ANGST, arguments, break up, death, mentions of execution, brief fluff at the end bc Tim deserves a break

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Los Angeles is seeing an intense spike in crime rates.”

“The Los Angeles Police Department has received more calls today than in the last two months combined.”

“A new, temporary emergency line has been announced. In case of emergency and busy 9-1-1 lines, please call…”

“Nearly 5,000 police officers are on the streets of Los Angeles city limits, with more dispatched throughout the county.”

As residents lock themselves into their homes in an attempt to be protected by the crime spike, you respond to call after call with no break in between. Some of the stops you’ve made were false alarms, but you’ve also been shot at, yelled at, and engaged in two fights between those pointless stops. Though overtime was approved, you’re nearing the end of your sixteenth hour in the shop and need a break. Grey called the officers from this morning to return to the station before heading home. You only get eight hours off before you have to come back, but you’ll take what you can get.

Tim’s place is closer to the station, so you plan to go there rather than your home on the other side of the city. The more time you can find to sleep, the better. You’re sure everyone is just as tired and in need of rest, so you would like to do something special for them in the morning. If you can wake up in time, that is.

“Hi,” you greet when Tim opens his door.

He is obviously surprised to see you but invites you in any way. You thank him as you walk toward the couch.

“Can I crash here tonight? It’s closer and I’m exhausted.”

Tim scoffs before he nods. He returns to the kitchen and continues cooking as you set your bag down.

“How was your day?” you ask. “I had endless calls, so I can’t imagine how hectic it was for you.”

“Of course you can’t,” Tim replies without looking up. “Considering you’re just a glorified meter maid.”

Tim is tired and stressed, you remind yourself, but the words still cut through you like the knife in his hand. You were in dangerous situations for most of the day, and though you haven’t been a cop as long as Tim, your job is still important. And you’re good at it.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask after a tense moment of silence.

“What I said. I do more than you, but if you’re so exhausted that you can’t even drive home-“

“Tim, that’s-”

Tim finally looks up as he cuts you off to say, “You barely passed your rookie exam, you haven’t made a decent-sized arrest in months, and you think they attached you to any decent calls? This city is ripping at the seams right now and trust me when I say you are chasing garden fluff because no one trusts you to do any more. You’re lucky they were desperate enough to bring you up from writing traffic tickets. We just needed help and you were there.”

Tim’s jaw clenches as he steps toward you, and you try to remember that he is just emotional from a long day. You are, too, but you’re not taking it out on him.

“I don’t want to fight with you about this,” you offer.

“Well, sure. Because it can’t be your fault, right?” Tim asks.

His voice is rising, and only the couch separates you. His eyes are dark, and though you don’t want to give him an excuse to keep going, you refuse to be treated like this.

“Why does everything have to be about who is at fault with you?” you demand. “Are you aware that things just happen sometimes?”

“Not to you, though.”

“If you think my life is so perfect, why do you insist on worrying about me so often? No one asked you to do any of this! You could have just asked me to go home if you were this upset about a bad day.”

“You don’t even know what a bad day is! What did you do today? Respond to all of the scared housewives in gated communities?”

You could tell him the truth, that you were inches away from a bullet intended to kill you, but you think he’d somehow find a way to blame you. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and though you want to stop fighting, you also need to remind Tim that you’re not a rookie he can walk all over you and blame for every little thing that goes wrong in his life.

“If that’s what you think I do, I can’t change your mind,” you reply.

“Well, those of us who actually acted like cops today went through more than you’ve seen in your career. You’re a bad cop, which makes it harder on the rest of us, to carry your weight, but no one admits it after they see your pretty smile,” Tim snaps loudly.

“I’m done, Tim!” you yell.

You’re surprised by the volume of your statement, but it gets Tim to fall silent, if only for a moment.

“With what?” he asks.

“This! I am done coming back to you every day just for you to pick fights over nothing!”

“Oh, so now it’s nothing? You can complain about your day, but I can’t?”

“That’s the difference, Tim! You’re not complaining about a long day to share something and ask for comfort. You’re tearing me apart because you can’t handle your own emotions. I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it.”

“You love me but I’m not worth it,” Tim says with a sarcastic shrug and set jaw.

“That’s not what I said, and you know it.”

“Well maybe I’m just as stupid about emotions and relationships as you are about police work.”

You pick up your bag and pull it onto your shoulder quickly. As you brush past Tim, you murmur, “I’m not doing this anymore.” The door slams behind you as you leave and severs the connection you and Tim had.

After you leave, Tim sits in his anger for a while. He blames you, picks apart everything you said, and misremembers your words to make you seem like the bad guy. Suddenly, though, Tim hears your genuine I love you, but these fights aren’t worth it. He remembers the look in your eyes as he yelled at you. You never wanted to fight; you asked to stop because you just wanted to relax before returning to work. Yet Tim treated you as an emotional punching bag, something he promised himself he would never do.

Tim drops his head into his hands and sighs. He needs to apologize but can’t take back a word he said. You said you weren’t doing it – your relationship, he presumes – anymore, so Tim gives you room. The clock ticks slowly as he thinks about you, but his next shift grows nearer quickly. He texts you an apology, knowing it’s less than the least he can do. You deserve a grand gesture, a middle-of-the-night, in-person apology from the heart. But with an early morning shift, Tim knows you and he both need the break Wade sent you home to take. So, he sends a few simple words before sitting back in his misery.

In your room, you sit alone to wallow. Your phone buzzes, and you read Tim’s apology before you toss your phone to the side. It’s not enough to forgive or forget everything he said, and you can’t return to that environment yet. So, you don’t answer.

You fall asleep at the same time as Tim, though far away from the comfort you craved, with only a few hours before you’ll be forced to see each other again. Maybe another seemingly endless shift will distract you from your sadness.

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station the morning after your fight with Tim, your injured pride and broken heart go nearly undetected. You attribute this in part to the specialty donuts you brought in; you couldn’t sleep anyway, so you left before your alarm went off to try to make everyone else’s day better than yours. Lucy talks to you in the locker room like it’s just another morning, even though you are heartbroken. Tim, however, is the talk of the station. His visible devastation and misery draw the attention of every officer in the building. When you step out and unintentionally make eye contact with him, the people closest to you can see what you’re hiding a little better.

“I should have seen it before,” Lucy tells Angela. “She was acting a little different, but I thought she was just tired.”

“I’ve never seen Tim like this before. He is miserable,” Angela says. “And he will take it out on you.”

“That’s fine. But… will they be okay?”

Angela shrugs. “I wish I could say yes, Lucy.”

Wade notices you and Tim sitting on opposite sides of the room during roll call, and he’s the last of them to be pulled into your shared misery. Now that you have seen Tim, your misery is just as obvious, and even the people who don’t know you or Tim well can see the difference.

“Nolan,” Wade calls before he instructs John to ride with you for the day. You’re unsure if it’s because of you and Tim or something else you don’t know about. Regardless, it’s because your emotions play a role in your ability to be a good cop… but maybe you were never one of those, to begin with, like Tim said.

At least I won’t have to talk. Nolan can carry the conversation for both of us, you think.

“What’s up with Tim today?” Nolan asks.

“We’re not talking about Officer Bradford,” you reply quickly.

“Okay. Then what’s up with you? The donuts were nice, but I assume you had the time to get them for a reason.”

“Nolan, we’re not having this conversation,” you snap. “We’re cops, not friends.”

“Sounds like I’m with Bradford,” Nolan mumbles.

“You have no idea,” you reply.

Meanwhile, Tim and Lucy are stuck at the station doing paperwork. Today is slower, and there’s a lot to catch up on from the chaos yesterday. Lucy knows better than to pry after spending so much time with Tim, but she can see that something is weighing on him. More than whatever invisible burden he’s carrying, Tim is devastated. She has seen it before, briefly when one of Tim’s former partners passed away, but this is different.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucy offers.

“No,” Tim replies immediately.

Lucy nods before her phone chimes. It only makes noise when another cop contacts her, and she rushes to read the message.

“Tim, Nolan said he needs us to meet them. He just said they’re trapped and it’s really dangerous,” she relays.

“Let’s go.”

Tim runs through the station to reach his shop, and his mind races with every step. Tim lost you last night, but he refuses to lose you forever. If – when you both get to the other side of this, Tim will give you the apology you deserve, he tells himself. And he will never be in this position again.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” Nolan asks over the nearby gunfire.

You’re a bad cop, Tim says in your mind.

“I- I don’t know what to do, Nolan,” you admit. “I can’t do this.”

Nolan’s eyes widen. He knew you were acting differently, but your sudden and complete lack of confidence shocks him. Both of you are pinned in the corner of a warehouse, in danger of being tortured, executed, or some sick combination of worse things. You know you need to act, but your pride and your abilities are shot, thanks to Tim. You’ll be lucky if you don’t get shot, too.

“You can do this,” Nolan assures you. “You have to. Whoever said-“

“Move!” you demand.

Nolan ducks, and you fire through a nearby doorway. It draws attention to you and Nolan, and your confidence takes another hit as three men aim rifles at your chest. The red dots form a perfect triangle around your heart. Things could have been so different if you had just gone home last night instead of giving into your never-ending craving for Tim’s comfort.

“Tim,” Angela calls when he and Lucy arrive. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“Yes, I do,” he replies.

She pushes a hand against his chest and shakes her head. Despite Tim’s grumbling, he trusts Angela as a friend and a fellow cop.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

Angela looks to her right, and Tim follows her line of sight. Your shop is standing wide open as CSU combs through it. The windshield is shattered, and the interior is riddled with bullet holes. Tim’s attention catches on the blood coating everything. No one could have survived that blood loss.

“Where is she?” Tim demands.

“We don’t know,” Angela admits. “She wasn’t here when we arrived. Neither was Nolan.”

“Let me help.”

Angela looks around before she whispers, “You’re too emotional.”

“She left me last night, Angela. It was all my fault, and I didn’t even get to apologize! So, I am helping, whether you want it or not.”

Angela nods as Lucy returns to Tim’s side. He looks back to your shop and knows. He knows he is too late. That realization changes everything.

“You’re right,” he tells Angela. “I’m too close; I shouldn’t help.”

“Timothy,” she begins.

“No, I- she’s gone. We both know that. And I can’t do this, not knowing that she died out here thinking that I didn’t love her. That I didn’t fight for her.”

“Let me know if that changes, Tim.”

Angela walks away to continue investigating the scene. Lucy lays her hand on Tim’s back to provide some comfort, but he shakes her hand off before he moves toward the shop. Crime doesn’t stop just because Tim’s world ends, and if throwing himself into his work will distract him, he’ll let it. But being busy and tired will never get between you and him again.

“Snipers,” Lucy whispers as she reads something on her phone.

“What about them?” Tim inquires.

“Oh, uh, just something Angela sent me.”

“About her?”

“Yeah.”

Tim nods, and his knuckles grow white as he grips the steering wheel. “There were snipers?”

“Three of them, from what they can tell. A gun left behind matched the ballistics of the bullets in her shop. It seems like… like someone was executed in her shop.”

“Let’s take another call, Chen.”

Lucy nods and requests dispatch to begin sending them calls again. The first is a bank robbery in process, and Tim only hopes that adrenaline and devastation mix well.

“Gun!” Lucy yells before ducking behind the armored personnel carrier outside the bank.

Tim doesn’t hesitate to raise his arms and shoot. The sniper falls backward, and Tim wills his mind not to wonder how different things would be if he’d been with you instead of Nolan. Snipers took you from him, but this taste of retribution doesn’t help Tim. He walks away as soon as the bank is cleared. He wants to punch something, yell, cry, and maybe do it all at once, but it won’t bring you back. Nothing short of an apology that he can’t give will.

Tim sits on his couch in the dark because it’s as close to peace as he can get. If he closes his eyes too long, he sees you standing on the other side of the room, defending yourself from his emotional outburst. The argument was pointless, and you wanted to stop it, but Tim kept pushing. The more he thinks about it, the more he starts to turn his sadness into self-hatred because he acted like his father. He drops his head into his hands and asks himself why he allowed himself to be driven so far. Despite how he treated you and the horrible, untrue things he said, you told Tim you loved him. He loves you more than anything but didn’t return the sentiment in the heat of the moment. And now he never can.

“I love you,” Tim whispers now. “I’m so sorry.”

Someone knocks on his door, fast raps with no break between them. Tim rubs his face as he stands and walks around the couch-turned-fighting ring to answer it.

“Tim,” Angela says quickly. “We found something. We know where they were an hour ago.”

Tim looks over his shoulder to the cruiser at the end of his driveway. The lights are on, and Nyla is inside, ready to go.

“I wanted to extend the invite,” Angela adds.

Tim nods as he yanks his keys from the table by his door. He doesn’t bother to check if the door locks behind him as he races toward the car, toward you. Nyla drives quickly and parks outside an abandoned house less than fifteen minutes later. While Tim looks at the house, he sees someone move in the window.

“Somebody’s inside,” he alerts.

Nyla nods and instructs Tim to wait while she and Angela approach the house. Before they exit the car, the person walks out of the front door with their hands up. Tim throws the door open and sprints across the yard before anyone says anything.

“Nolan,” he calls.

“What happened here?” Nyla asks.

Her tone makes Tim look around, and he counts at least eight bodies in the front yard. Most are covered, and the desperation, dread, misery, and heartbreak churn in his stomach as he wonders if any of them are you.

“We walked into an ambush. She got one of them down, but we were cornered, surrounded. They dragged their ‘failure’ to the shop and finished him off before they brought us here.” After he explains, Nolan turns to Tim and says, “She asked me to give you this.”

He pulls a bloody piece of paper from his pocket and passes it to Tim, who accepts it wordlessly.

“Where…” is she? Tim wants to say, but he can’t finish the question.

“Uh, she’s inside,” Nolan answers.

Tim hears confirmation that you’re here and runs through the carnage-covered yard and house to find you. He grips the letter tightly as he navigates through the dark house. Tim stops when he sees your badge lying in a corner, and squats to retrieve it. It’s scuffed and bloody, but Tim can’t leave any piece of you behind. He tucks your letter into his pocket to hold your badge.

“Officer Bradford?”

Tim turns quickly and nearly trips over a bloody hammer. He would recognize that voice anywhere. When his eyes finish adjusting in the darkness, and he sees you slumped in the opposite corner, propped up behind the door, he crosses the room in the time it takes you to blink. Tim’s hands cup your face gently as he leans closer to you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Save it,” you reply. “This isn’t over yet. He said he was coming back.”

“Where’d he go?” Tim asks, effortlessly switching back to cop mode.

You smile, and Tim swallows harshly as your injured lip splits and produces a fresh bead of blood. “To rob a bank. As if you weren’t busy enough, right?”

The sniper at the bank, Tim remembers. “He’s gone,” he says quickly. “We got him.”

“You got him?” you clarify.

Tim shakes his head, and you raise your hands to his sides as you lean toward him.

“I could never do this alone. I can’t do any of this without you.”

“Did you read my letter?”

Tim pulls the paper from his back pocket and shakes his head as he reads the two short sentences.

“I forgive you. I love you,” you say as Tim reads the same words.

“It won’t happen again,” Tim promises.

“It might. We have hard jobs, but we can get through it. Right?”

Tim’s reply is a careful kiss to your forehead before he yells for a paramedic. Nolan leads Angela and Nyla inside a moment later, and they enter the door beside you.

“You could’ve mentioned she was alive,” Tim tells Nolan.

“You ran in before I said, ‘she’d like to see your face first, considering she almost died and you were the only thing she talked about,’” Nolan answers.

“Shut up,” you and Tim say together.

“This is the thanks,” Nolan mumbles.

“Can I crash at your place?” you ask Tim. “Without the argument?”

“Wouldn’t let you go anywhere else. The best cop I know deserves some comfort.”

“I thought I was the best cop you knew,” Angela teases.

“I love you,” you tell Tim.

“I love you,” he answers. After he looks into your eyes and smiles, he yells, “Where is the ambulance?”

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford angst #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #requests

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leesjuicycalves · 2 months

Text

Maybe it’s because you had deprived yourself of it for most of your life time that now you seemed to crazily demand and need it. One would think you’re a maniac, in fact, for how desperately you needed it. How desperately you needed him. It’s been over two weeks since Hyunjin, your boyfriend went on tour with the rest of his band members and it’s been the most agonizingly painful weeks of your life. You were used to him leaving for a few days or so, to work in the studio on a new track or album, but he never slept out in the period you’ve dated. You thought it wouldn’t be that big of a deal since you’ve been living fine all your life without any desires or needs, physically. But oh boy were you so wrong. Hwang Hyunjin was like a drug that you didn’t know you needed, the kind of drug that takes you to cloud nine, the type of drug that gets you into that headspace. The kind of drug that takes away all the pain that could ever exist and replace it with pure ecstasy and bliss. The kind of drug that you so needed every night for the past two weeks that you’ve been laying alone and cold in your bed.

Back in college your friends would tease you of how you scared away every boy and or girl that liked you, they said that you would spend the rest of your life alone and sad, masturbating to yourself miserably having no one to fill that void in your heart and in your pussy. You would in fact, cringe at their dumb comments and remarks saying that you found none of the people that approached you attractive or likeable. “They’re just meh for me you know,” you had once told Mina, your best friend. “Have you just considered the fact that you’re asexual?” She had asked you. You had actually considered this fact but hadn’t pried much into it and to be fair there was no one that attractive in school, they were all just so, well, meh! That was until this goofy looking guy came up to you this one time in the hallway with a red card said hi to you in the nerdiest way possible, gave you the card and scurried off after pushing back his big round glasses. You were confused that was clear, first and foremost you had never seen the guy and second who does that.

“I like you, go out with me. Please.” That was what the card said, you couldn’t help but giggle a little at the gesture looking around the hallway to see whether the goofy looking guy was around even though you knew he was far gone. Going on that unexpected date was the best decision you seemed to have made that entire semester, you found out his name was Hyunjin and that he was a trainee at JYPE Company. You eventually ended up seeing each other more than often turning your friend’s heads and by the time both of you were done with college, you and Hyunjin were officially a couple and he had also debuted.

You were both happy of your achievements and made a promise to be there for each other no matter what, and that’s exactly what you did. Despite his many schedules that he had Hyunjin still made sure to make time for you and despite your hustle of finding a job you also made sure to be there for him and support him through his idol career. It was hard, you were not gonna lie about that. Sometimes you wished he would change his career option, but that was when you were most tired of everything. The times when he would come home too tired to listen to your conversations, the times he would cancel your dates cause of work, the times he would just stay home crying because of what stupid ass anti k-pop people would say; this was the worst period of time in your relationship. But despite the challenges that came with his career and the negativity that sometimes surrounded it, you knew you wouldn't want Hyunjin to be doing anything else. You loved seeing him on stage, doing what he loved, and you were proud of all the hard work he put into it.

Besides he always made it up to you one way or the other, he always ensured that you felt loved and cared for, cherished and treasured. The laughter you shared in your little apartment on the wholesome nights you spent together talking about everything and nothing, the little dates he took you out to when he got leaves and the amazing sex you had after was all you needed to convince you that you needed to stay and Hyunjin was worth it.

But as Hyunjin’s fame soared, the dynamics of your relationship seemed to shift. The increasing demand of his career meant less time spent together a contrast to the initial days. Yes he was still busy during the previous days but it didn’t compare to how busy he got after releasing their first full album. Balancing the desire for more of his time and understanding the sacrifices he made for your relationship (the sacrifices you also had to make) became a delicate dance, so when he told you that they had a tour coming up to promote their new album you were puzzled. Of course you were happy for him, he had accomplished so much but you missed his touch, his company, his sweet sultry voice and everything about him.

You lay in your bed staring up at the starry ceiling you remember you and Hyujin painted when you moved in your little apartment. You felt sad? Mad? Angry? Frustrated? You didn’t even know, maybe it was a mix of all these but what you did know is that you were horny and needy and so much more. If it were even possible. Hyunjin had called you earlier that day but you weren’t in the right emotion to pick up the phone so you just let it ring as tears stung your eyes. You ended up falling asleep after supposedly memorizing every star painted on your ceiling, you were so deep in your slumber that you didn’t hear Hyunjin walk in that night, you didn’t hear him giggling at your cute sleeping form. You didn’t feel the delicate kiss he placed on your forehead and you definitely didn’t feel him slip right behind you, spooning you and whispering a sweet goodnight to you. So when you wake up the next morning and feel a body pressed against your back you’re a little bit startled but calm down as soon as the scent of him fills you.

“Jinnie?” you murmur sleepily turning to face his beautiful sleeping face.

“Mmmh,” he groans before opening his eyes. “Morning baby,” he coos back at you.

“What are you doing here, I thought you guys would be done next week,” you asked sincerely shocked as you sit up on your elbow.

“Don’t you want me here baby,” he asks in a pout as he scoots closer to lay his head on your tummy.

You giggle at his antics and thread your fingers along his silky hair.

“Jinnie you know that’s not what I mean,”

“Well, there is heavy rain in Jakarta, that was our next stop so we cancelled that and I decided to come home to you my sweets,” he answers placing a soft kiss on your covered tummy.

“Oh ok. Lemme go make you something to eat then, am sure you’re hungry,” you say as a matter of fact as you make way to leave the bed but Hyunjin holds you back tighter.

“Let’s just stay like this a little bit longer, yeah,”

“I need to get to work Hyun so I have to get up anyways so let go. When did you even get here?”

“Last night, when you were sleeping. You looked cute,” he says as his hands slop under your sleeping shirt. “And peaceful. Just skip work today, for me?” His hand stops right beneath your right breast and you can feel what you’ve been needing all those days back, his simple touch.

“We can’t do this now Jinnie. Am sure you also need rest.”

“I don’t, I slept all the way here in the plane so am ok. Just stay please.”

Honestly you also don’t know why you’re trying to run away from him, from what you’ve been wanting and needing so badly for the past two weeks. He was right there next to you, touching you, talking to you just like you wanted. Maybe it was the guilt of the all the emotions you had in the previous days, killing you from the inside.

“Baby,” Hyunjin’s sultry voice breaks you from your thoughts, he slowly lifts his head from your tummy and his hand now fully lays on top of your breast.

“I called you last night, wanted to tell you I was coming but you didn’t pick up,”

He is now straddling your hips as you lay flat on your back staring at his beautiful eyes that held all his love for you.

“I-I must have been asleep-”

“S’ alright at least I gave you a surprise,” he leans down and his soft plump lips meet yours and you swear you feel yourself ascend. His lips felt like the softest pillow made of itsy-bits of love and admiration. The kiss was slow and delicate, it was as if Hyunjin was taking his time to express his feelings trough the kiss, speaking volumes of the countless conversations missed during his absence, apologizing for all the time lost, for all the dates he canceled because of work and re assuring you that the promises you once made to each other were still alive and he intended to keep them. He kissed you fervently as if telling you that you were his future, the one he would be with forever, the one he would always come back to after a long day at work or after his tours, it was a kiss of relief for the both of you, a solace.

Hyunjin pressed his lips harder against yours almost as if he never wanted to part, never wanted to stop kissing your beautiful lips. He only pulled back when he tasted a hint of saltiness on his lips (sure of which he knew were tears and not blood since he was positive he hadn’t gone that rough). You also only realized your state when you no longer felt the comfort of his lips on yours.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why-why are you crying? What’s the matter?” He was quick to sit up right, but not fully placing his weight on you, thumb swiping away the stray drops of tears on your flushed cheeks.

“N-nothing, just so happy you’re back,” you say barely as a whisper while you sniffle in between your statement turning your head to avoid Hyunjin’s gaze and wiping your own tears rather harshly with the back of your hand. He slowly turns you back to face him, delicately pushing your hand from your face.

“Am. Happy. That. Am. Back. Too.” He tells you punctuating every word with a peck on your eyes, nose, cheeks and lips. You smile at him, the kind of smile that he always said made his heart beat a tad faster every time. This is why you stay back, why you had the strength to keep waiting for the last two weeks. Why you still hold on despite the frustration, anger, sadness and loneliness at times. Because of his lovely existing self.

“Baby,” Hyunjin whispers, his hand that had been laying a top of your breast groping it harshly.

“Jinnie, I-I, you…..”

“Need you. I need you love, so bad.”

It is only then that you notice the clear hard on pocking at your naked thigh.

Hyunjin lowers himself once again to your lips, kissing you shortly then proceeds to place open mouth kisses on your neck and collarbone. He maneuvers to slide off the spaghetti top that you have on and within no time you feel the warmness of his lips on your breasts kissing and sucking. You grip his bare back, nails holding tight onto his flesh sure enough to leave a mark. Your body melts against is touch, completely giving him full control to do as he pleases because that’s the kind of effect that he has on you.

Hyunjin snakes his lips down your abdomen and stops at the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Your eyes that were shut the entire time shoot open at feeling his warm breath there. You both look at each other for a while, the silence in the room might seem awkward to a stranger but you relinquish comfort and trust from it knowing that your sweet love will take care of you. You frantically nod your head at him and the smirk he gives you sets you off further than he already has. Your shorts fly across somewhere in the room and you are left completely vulnerable in front of Hyunjin, he looks at your pussy as if it’s the first time he’s seen you and embarrassment suddenly washes over you. You have no time to dwell on that feeling since Hyunjin immediately takes it away by giving a long lick along your wet slick folds, he gives a somewhat hum of agreement, or is it satisfaction, and the vibrations against your folds have you moaning out.

“Missed this,” he mumbles and laps at your pussy up and down, his plump lips sucking harsh and his thick warm tongue poking at your entrance. All you can do is squirm and writhe in pleasure against the bed holding tight your velvet sheets whilst chanting his name like a holy mantra.

Hyunjin’s lips almost push you to your climax but he pulls back before anything could happen appearing right above you once more to give you another kiss but this time harsh and heated with the intend to satisfy his desire; a distraction as he works to push two of his long digits into you scissoring you open. You immediately gasp at the sudden move, back arching of the bed. Hyunjin whimpers into the kiss as his painfully hard covered dick makes contact with your exposed stomach. You reach out in between the two of you and free him from the restraints of his silky pajama, stroking him with your soft hands. This causes his fingers to suddenly poke harder inside you lightly pressing on your g spot.

“H-hyun, please, p-please,” you beg your hands no longer focusing on keeping steady strokes on his dick.

“I know angel, I know,” he answers back adding a third finger into you and speeding up the pace of his fingers. He is just as desperate to be inside you as you are to have him. After a couple of thrusts and a few seconds of sloppy kissing, Hyunjin pulls his fingers out and aligns himself with your hole placing his tip just at the entrance.

“Nggh-Jin-jinnie, hurry please,” you whine and push yourself forward trying to get his entire dick in you at once.

“Patience baby,” he says with a chuckle as he holds your hips in place and slowly starts gliding into you with a low groan. The stretch you feel from him is immaculate to say the least, you take him in fully as you hold on tightly to his forearms moaning and whimpering. Hyunjin was always caring and careful at times like this, and you appreciated that. But today was not the day for that, considering that the world had deprived you of his touch for a while, deprived you of the stretch of his dick that you never seemed to get enough of. So Hyunjin pausing to wait for you to adjust to him was simply not done, you moved forward harshly, the tip of Hyunjin’s dick hitting hard on that spongy spot inside you eliciting sound between whimper and a gasp out of him as he fell forward laying on your chest.

“Baby, y-you can’t do that,” you could hear the surprise in his voice, he clearly did not expect that.

“You’re too slow Hyunn,” you answer cockily with a smirk on your face. He doesn’t answer back but instead lifts himself up and starts moving painfully slow rubbing his dick on your walls as his hands move to knead both your breasts. “F-fuck,” you curse out gripping his back harshly. He knows exactly how you take him, slow and hard, none of that fast bullshit. He grins at your reaction slamming harder into you and kissing all over your chest.

The room was filled with your whimpers and moans, the wet sounds of his dick dragging along your slick walls, his low guttural grunts and the sound of his name coming out of your lips, sweet praises of “you’re doing well love,” and “Keep taking me so good baby,” fueling you and taking you closer to your climax. You feel yourself convulsing around him, legs trembling and arms too weak to hold onto anything. “Hy-Hyun….I’m gonna…..f-fuck,” you stop mid-sentence as he continuously slams harder into you. “Come on baby let go,” before you can administer what he’s commanding of you your walls release around him body shaking and mouth hanging open in a silent moan. It doesn’t take long for him to let go as well, filling you with his warm cum. He continues to fuck you both from your high the squelching sounds getting louder as he finally pulls out and collapses on top of you. Your hands rest on his head sweeping away the strands of hair stuck to his forehead. The room is silent for a while with nothing but your steady breathing sounds, both of you too comfortable to say a word and too comfortable to move away from each other.

#hyunjin #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids #skz imagines #skz smut #skz x y/n #skz smau #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #hyunjin x you

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