#I'm not going to say anything but GOD do I want to
Note
Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures
... and Leo, of course.
OH GOD OK
uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.
it really
really got out of hand.
This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.
Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.
I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....
btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)
-----
When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.
When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.
But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.
Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.
A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.
They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.
So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.
He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.
He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.
There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.
He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.
As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.
"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?
He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.
"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"
Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.
He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.
He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.
His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.
"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"
"Qué?" Leo asks.
Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"
Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"
"I'm sure you would like some dinner."
"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?
To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"
Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"
He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.
"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"
Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.
This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.
He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.
"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."
If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.
"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."
The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.
He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.
-----
Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.
He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.
Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.
His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.
Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.
So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.
(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)
He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.
He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.
So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.
-----
The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.
Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.
Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.
Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?
He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!
But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.
And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.
His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.
Another growl. He groans out loud.
He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.
-----
No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.
He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.
(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)
He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.
He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.
(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)
After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.
Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!
"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."
Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.
Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."
He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.
"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"
"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."
"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."
"That's gotta be unconstitutional."
"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."
Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"
Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.
Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."
"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."
"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"
"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"
The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?
"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"
Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.
So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.
Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."
The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.
-----
The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.
He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.
As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.
He also needs to sleep.
The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.
The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.
But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.
After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.
He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.
He wishes he was home.
He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?
It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.
They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.
He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.
-----
The same routine plays out over the next two days.
Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.
They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.
More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.
Nothing. Always nothing.
(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)
It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.
And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.
Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.
It's miserable.
And there's still nothing to do.
He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.
He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.
He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.
By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.
But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.
-----
Something new happens on night five.
It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.
Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.
Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.
The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.
The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.
He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.
The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.
The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.
Leo's mouth is watering.
He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.
"I'm not hungry," he lies.
The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.
Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.
The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.
"You want this," he says.
Leo shakes his head.
"You really sure?"
Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.
The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.
Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."
Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.
Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.
After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.
"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."
Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.
The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.
Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.
He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.
After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.
-----
"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.
"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."
Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.
"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"
For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.
His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.
That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!
Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.
Leo swallows hard. "No comment."
Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.
"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."
Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.
Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"
"Little bit," says Leo.
Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.
And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.
-----
The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.
He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.
Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.
Where are you? Leo thinks back.
There's no answer.
He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.
Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.
He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.
It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.
He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.
Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.
Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.
He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.
It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.
It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.
The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.
It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.
He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.
-----
He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.
"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.
(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)
"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."
"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."
Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."
"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."
One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.
Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.
Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.
"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."
Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.
"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."
Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"
"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.
Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.
"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"
Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."
"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"
Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."
Leo falters, his body going slack.
What an obvious, stupid mistake.
(Some face-man he is.)
It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.
"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."
"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."
Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.
Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!
What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?
You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.
He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.
He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.
It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.
Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.
"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.
Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.
-----
After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.
It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.
He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.
Which means his chance is finally here.
He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.
(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)
So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.
Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.
Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."
Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.
It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.
"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.
He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.
The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.
Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.
Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.
Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.
"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"
Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.
He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.
He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.
Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.
It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.
Where is he?
He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-
BANG!
A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.
It's a dart.
Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.
-----
"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.
Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.
He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.
And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.
Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.
"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.
"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."
That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.
He says nothing.
Bishop sighs.
"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."
Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."
-----
The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.
"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."
Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.
"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"
And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.
But he's just...
so...
hungry.
So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.
And he nods.
The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.
It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.
"Please," he gasps out.
"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."
Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...
He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.
He lowers his head.
"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."
The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.
"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."
And then he takes another bite.
Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.
Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.
And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.
"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"
The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.
"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."
Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.
His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.
And his stripes...
His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.
They're almost black.
Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.
He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.
This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.
This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.
He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.
This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!
Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.
Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.
But he's tired, and hungry, and he...
He wants to go home.
He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.
-----
Maybe they aren't coming.
That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.
He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.
So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.
Unless they aren't coming.
Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.
He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.
So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.
Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.
Maybe it's time to give up.
---
Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.
You are not alone.
-----
He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.
"You don't look well," he observes.
No shit, Leo wants to say.
"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."
The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?
"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"
He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.
But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.
They might hurt Draxum.
They might hurt his family.
And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...
Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.
Maybe they'd finally trust him.
Maybe, at least, he can have that much.
Leo shakes his head.
Bishop scowls.
"Temperature down ten degrees."
-----
Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.
He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.
He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.
He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.
Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.
Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.
But he's so sleepy.
It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.
And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.
So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.
He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.
But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.
So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.
It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.
At least he's not shivering.
Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.
-----
(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.
The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)
-----
Part 2 (not yet out)
#rottmnt#rise leo#agent bishop#cw: psychological torture#dandy fanfiction#I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting#please don't be mad at Raph himself lol
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Ummm, how about price sabotaging the dates that the reader goes to
he would never do such a thing…
PT 5 😋
ExHusband!Price x f!reader
*im so shy at writing smut plz b patient ._.
“John, I really can't talk right now.”
“Who is he?”
You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. You knew better than to talk about your plans around the children.
“He's just...” You sigh, unable to lie to him even though you wanted to. “His daughter is on Gabriel's soccer team.”
The line is silent.
“…John?
“Have you been seeing each other for a while, then?”
“This is none of your-”
“How long have you been seeing him?” John reworded his question, sounding more stern than casual.
You don’t need to tell him anything. It’s been a month since the two of you kissed outside of your oldest child’s school, and that was an accident.
“It’s our first date.” You mumble your admission.
John grunts, as if he’s finding the news amusing.
You look over yourself in the mirror, suddenly feeling anxious. Shaking hands smooth over your little black dress, you run your fingers through your hair.
God, why does he still have this effect on you?
“Where’s he takin’ you?” John asks casually. “That little Italian place you like?”
You roll your eyes at this, picking your phone back up from where it was laying atop your vanity.
“I’m hanging up now.” You huff. “Tell the kids I love them.”
You didn’t give John a chance to say anything else before ending the call.
•••
The ambiance of the Italian restaurant is warm and inviting, with soft lighting and a gentle murmur of conversation. You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort from your phone call with John.
Tonight is about moving forward. For leaving your past in the past.
Your date, Matt, smiles at you across the table, his dark eyes twinkling in the low light.
"I'm really glad you agreed to go out with me," he says, his voice warm and genuine.
You return his smile, feeling grateful for his patience and understanding even after the several times you’d turned him down.
You were too busy, Linnie was sick, you had to go in to work…
You were hung up on John.
"Me too," you say softly.
As you delve into conversation, the outside world fades away. The past is in the past.
For the first time in a long while, you weren’t thinking about John.
Just as you start to lose yourself in the moment, a familiar voice interrupts from behind you.
“Mummy!”
Your heart sinks as you see John, that smug grin playing on his lips. On either side of him were your children, wide-eyed and excited, each clutching one of his hands.
"Daddy said we're having a fancy dinner!" your youngest exclaims, bouncing with enthusiasm as they approach your table.
Your stomach churns with disbelief as you try to comprehend what's happening. "John, what are you doing?" you demand, your voice tight with frustration.
He shrugs, his expression unapologetic. "The kids wanted to go out for dinner," he says casually, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
You glance at Matt, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. "I'm so sorry," you murmur, mortified by the scene unfolding before you. “This is my-”
“John Price,” John reaches out to shake hands with your date, “Ex husband. SAS.”
“Uh… Matt.” Your date introduces himself, looking to you in confusion.
“I’m so sorry…” You squeeze your eyes closed, trying not to cry out of pure frustration. “I didn’t know he was going to do this.”
“Where’s our chairs?” Your oldest looks at you, noticing your table only had a seat for you and your date.
“We’ll be right over here, buddy.” John smiles, guiding the kids to the table next to your own.
It had a folded card on top that read “Reserved”.
This wasn’t a spur of the moment stunt.
John knew about your date and planned on crashing it all along.
You glance helplessly at Matt, feeling a pang of guilt for dragging him into this mess.
To your surprise, he reaches out to squeeze your hand, a small smile on his lips.
“Maybe we should go,” he says gently.
You nod, grateful that he’s so… understanding.
The two of you stand, and before you leave you stop by John’s table to give each of the kids a kiss on the cheek and let them know that you’ll see them tomorrow. You don’t even glance at John.
•••
“I had a really good time tonight,” Matt smiles as the two of you stand on your doorstep.
You hardly believe him; after John pulled that stunt at the restaurant, you were sure Matt would completely lose interest in pursuing this any further…
But to your surprise, he tried to make sure you enjoyed the rest of the night. The two of you had an impromptu picnic at the park, got ice cream and he even bought you flowers.
Matt is so… Nice.
“I did, too.” You smile, looking at your date with a small blush on your cheeks.
The two of you stare at each other for a beat before Matt speaks again, shyly this time.
“I’d really like to kiss you, if that’s okay.”
“That won’t be happening, mate.” John announces in the now open doorway, a bowl of cereal in his hand.
“John-!”
“Oh…” Matt blushes, taking a step back. “You two are still living together..?”
“No, we’re not,” You explain desperately. “John, what the fuck are you doing here?!”
John shrugs, taking another bite of his late-night snack. “Kids missed their real beds. I have the emergency key.”
You glare at him. He smiles.
“I’ll, uh… I’ll call you, yeah?” Matt offers as he starts towards his car. “It was nice seeing you.”
“Have a good night, Mike.” John waves with a grin, knowing damn well his name is Matt, not Mike.
“You’re such a fucking asshole.” You grumble, pushing past him into the house.
“What? I was bein’ nice to him.” John plays innocent, pushing the door closed with his foot. “Wasn’t really your type, though.”
“What’re you talking about?” You frown, removing your earrings.
John smirks. “He has brown eyes.”
You look at him like he’s insane… because you fully believe that is.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You like blue eyes, lovey.” John says softly, setting the bowl on the coffee table in the living room. “Mad for ‘em. You’d chase a man out to the parking lot over a pair of blue eyes.”
You don’t say a word.
John takes the bouquet of tulips from Matt from your hands, looking them over. You just watch.
“Doesn’t he know you hate tulips?” He looks back up to you, an eyebrow raised.
“Don’t be an ass.” You mumble, taking them back. “How would he know that? This was our first date.”
“I knew by our first date.” John counters, his arms crossing over his chest. “Knew you wanted a white house with a garden in the back, a big bathroom with a claw tub, an engagement ring with a garnet or a pearl instead of an ‘ugly silver and diamond ring’… and a hundred blue-eyed babies.”
You look down at your tulips, then back up at John.
You hate that he’s right. That he knows you too well. That he always has.
“You still didn’t have to crash my date.” You mumble, sitting down on the sofa, laying the flowers down next to you.
“Couldn’t help it, love. I go after what I want.”
John’s familiar words made you feel something in the pit of your stomach… Something you couldn’t quite name.
You lean back on the sofa, lifting your foot to him.
John crouches down to help you remove your heels, gently setting them aside.
“So, how was he?” John murmurs, his hands creeping up under your dress and starting to slowly pull your panties down your thighs.
You lift your hips, making it easier for him. “He was nice…”
“Hm.” John shakes his head with a tut. “You’ve never liked the nice ones.”
You watch as your panties are now being pulled down around your ankles, John’s head near your knees. He looks up for a moment, waiting for your signal.
You run your fingers through his hair gently before pushing his head towards your sex.
John wasted no time pushing your dress up your thighs and pulling you closer to devour you like he was starving.
Something about John on his knees in front of you, your legs over his shoulders...
“You’re such an asshole,” You groan.
John pulls back, lifting his head from your wet, needy pussy. He’s teasing you out of revenge, you’re sure of it.
Your back arches, trying to get his mouth back where you want it, but John leans back a bit more.
“John,” You whine, desperately trying to push his head back down.
“What is it, lovey? Hm?” John asks softly, pushing his fingers into your entrance, slowly dragging them in and out as he looks up at you. “Tell me wha’ you want.”
“I want-” You bite back a moan. “I want you.”
“You have me, sweetheart. Always have.” John’s husky words sounded like poetry.
You nod, because he’s right.
It doesn’t take long for John to make you come; he still knows your body better than anyone ever will.
He presses a few gently kisses to the inside of your thigh before pulling back. He rubs your legs as you come down from your climax.
“Forgive me, lovey?” He asks smugly.
You nod, a small smile on your lips to go with your flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids.
“Good. Now c’mere, you never got that goodnight kiss.”
<< prev next >>
#call of duty#captain john price#captain john price x reader#captain price#john price#cod smut#captain price smut#cod headcanons#cod mwii#cod x reader#bravo six#cod mw2#cod mw3#price headcannon#captain price fluff#price headcanons#price x reader#cod x fem!reader#141 x reader#cod x you#x reader#exhusband!price#dad!price#141 headcanons#task force 141#18+ only
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Part 6: Leaps of Faith
Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5
I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling (you put your arms around me and I'm home)
(In which a writer who can see the end approaching starts building towards that ending)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst and Fluff
Words: 8.0K
TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content
A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. Happy Sunday and Happy Mothers day! First of all, I wanna thank y'all for being ever so patient with me. I know I've been pretty bad about updating lately and y'all have been so sweet with your asks and I really appreciate it. This fic is very close to its end. I probably could have ended it with this chapter but there's a very specific ending I want to write so this one is more of a self-indulgent filler but I think y'all will like this one. There will be one more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts. Once again, there are most likely logistical inaccuracies. I'm not even gonna lie, the editing on this one is shoddy so there are definitely grammar errors/typos. For now, ignore them and I'll go fix them later. As always, even if we're near the end, feel free let me know what you liked, what you didn't and anything you'd like to see before we get to the end. Have a wonderful week my angels <3
April 2024
“It’s a little early for ice cream hon,” Azzi jumps at the sound of her mother’s voice, startled eyes following the direction of the noise to find Katie leaning against the kitchen door, with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s a little early to scare the living bejesus out of me mom,” she says with a hand to her chest.
If possible, Katie’s eyes roll even further at her daughter’s sarcastic tone as she makes her way over to the kitchen counter. She’s gotten herself a spoon and everything, ready to steal some ice cream for herself, when she notices the flavour. Next to her, Azzi stiffens.
“You hate mint chocolate chip Az,” Katie says quietly.
“I couldn’t find the strawberry ice cream,” Azzi defends stubbornly, her face taking on a guarded expression.
Katie walks over to the freezer, opening it and pointing at the strawberry ice cream, Azzi’s favourite, that’s sitting in plain sight, “it’s right there.”
“Well,” Azzi splutters, “I’m trying something new,”.
“You hate trying new things.”
“I’ve grown up I guess.”
“Azzi.”
“Mom.”
“Azzi, why are you eating ice cream you hate at 4 in the morning?” Katie finally asks in her best mom voice, sighing when she gets a mumbled response from her daughter, “in words Az, please.”
“Paige likes it,” Azzi admits slowly, and before Katie can say anything, before Azzi can dwell on what she’s said, she launches into a rant, “god knows why. Actually I know why because she’s stupid and weird and likes the dumbest shit. Who the fuck likes mint? Who the fuck likes mint and chocolate together? Gross. This shit is disgusting. It tastes all wrong. Paige is just-,” Azzi throws her hands up in the air, “she just doesn’t understand that some things don’t belong together. They can’t. They’re too different and it just- there’s a fucking balance to things you know? And she just- she doesn’t get that. It’s just- it’s not meant to be.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re eating it right now,” Katie says carefully.
“Because I miss her,” the truth bursts out of Azzi like an erupting volcano, burning itself into every crevice of her skin, “because for some fucking reason I don’t hate the taste of mint chocolate chip. Because maybe they do go together and maybe I’ve been the stupid one this whole time.”
Since she’d stepped out of the hotel in Cleveland, all Azzi could think about was going back, saying fuck it to all the useless logic she’d come up with and going back to the only thing in her life that had ever made sense her Paige. But as it often did in that clichéd battle between head and heart, her head had won out. And she’s never questioned why her head wins so much, why she’s always chosen to listen to the practical side of her brain, until now. Until now when the urge to turn back time, to make herself stay in that hotel room, is all that’s consumed her for the last week.
“Azzi,” Katie wraps her arms around the younger girl, “what happened with you and Paige?”
Azzi hesitates for a second and then everything’s spilling out of her lips, the good, the bad, the inbetween, all of it tumbles out like an uncontrollable waterfall. There’s something freeing about being able to say it all out loud, something freeing about the tears Azzi finally lets roll down her cheeks. She grips the edge of the counter to keep herself from keeling over, starting to feel herself crumble under the heaviness of all these stupid feelings.
“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Azzi whispers, “we used to be so easy.”
“Oh Az,” Katie rubs a thumb against her daughter’s cheek, “you used to be kids. You’re all grown up now. It’s always harder when you’re older.”
“Well, I don’t like it. I just want to be the way we were again.”
“So why don’t you?” Katie asks like it’s the most simple solution in the world and Azzi shoots her mother an exasperated look.
“What do you mean? How do we even do that? We can’t be just friends again. We tried. Were you not listening at all?”
“Azzi, sweetheart, you’ve never been just friends.”
“That’s not true,” it’s a futile attempt at arguing against what’s become more of a fact than an opinion in Azzi’s life. It’s a truth she’d let herself acknowledge once and then buried deep within her, scared that once unleashed, it would ruin everything. Except, it turns out, even without it, things had still turned to dust.
“Do you remember when you came home from Minnesota that first summer with Paige? You were either moping around or you were on call with her. There was no in between. It got better eventually, the moping stopped but the calls? I think you fell asleep on facetime with her almost every night. And you were tired every morning after, you barely had time to eat before school but every time I suggested that maybe you cut back, that was never an option,” Katie smiles fondly, “it’s when I knew.”
Azzi does remember, remembers talking about everything and nothing, remembers laughing and crying, remembers when Paige’s breathing was the only lullaby that could relax her into sleeping. And she remembers battling with that voice in her head, the one convinced there’s something more, silencing it with I’d do this with anyone. But that wasn’t true then and it’s not true now because Paige has never been just anyone, never been just a friend. Because even if Azzi’s never been brave enough to say it out loud, Paige is and has always been everything.
Despite knowing the answer and maybe dreading it just a little bit, Azzi asks it to her mom anyway, “what did you know?”
“That she was your person. You were too young, I couldn’t call it love just yet but I knew Paige was different then, she was yours in a way none of your other friends were. You were different around her,” Katie nudges her daughter, “Azzi you’ve always been just a little bit in love with her and she’s always been just a little bit in love with you too. The two of you have just been a matter of time.”
Azzi closes her eyes, and unlike other people, she doesn’t see darkness or little spots of light, she just sees Paige. Her mother’s words wash over her, like acid in her self-inflicted fight the feelings wounds and yet, the idea of she’s loved me too feels like a band-aid being delicately placed on the scars of her heart.
“And place,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “we never seem to get time and place right.”
“Why do you need to?”
Another exasperated look is sent Katie’s way at that question, “we live on different sides of the country mom, what do you mean why do we need to?”
“I mean the two of you have barely ever been in the same place. But you made it work, when you had even less, when you felt even less. But you’re adults now. You have other resources now. And I know timing is difficult but- it’s you and Paige. What are you so scared of Azzi?”
Azzi sucks in a deep breath, “what if Paige runs away again?”
“What if you run away again?”
“Excuse me?”
“Who was the last person to walk away, Azzi?,” Katie sighs when Azzi is adamantly silent, “I know she hurt you by leaving. I know she hurt you by pushing you away. But you did the same thing. You chose UCLA,” Katie holds up a hand when a frustrated Azzi tries to interrupt, “and it was the right decision for you Azzi and she should have supported it. But that doesn’t meant you didn’t hurt her and then you chose Zoe-”
“I didn’t choose Zoe-”
“Yes you did Azzi. Sweetheart you’re my daughter and I will always tell you the complete truth even if it’s not what you wanna hear. And the truth Azzi is that Paige might have hurt you in 101 different ways but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt her back in 99 different ways too.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Azzi whispers, “that’s the problem mom. It hurts when she hurts me but it hurts even more when I hurt her. I don’t want that for us but I just- I just don’t know how to stop it without stopping us.”
“You haven’t even tried, baby. Paige held out a hand and you ran away.”
“She left first. How am I supposed to trust that she won’t just do that again," all that’s missing from Azzi’s stubborn whine is a foot stomp.
“Because she came back. It took her a little bit, I know, but she came back and she’s ready to fight, the question is, are you?”
“Why are you defending her?” Azzi splutters, “who’s side are you even on?”
“There are no sides to this sweetheart. The two of you are on the same side. So maybe instead of fighting against her, take that hand, fight with her.”
***
The WNBA draft is a momentous occasion this year. With a hyped draft class like no other, and the promise of even greater ones in the future, there’s a sense of celebratory hope dangling in the air. When the invite had first come in, Azzi had known the same one would be sent to a certain blonde in Connecticut as well. And a part of her had wanted to hide herself away from that possible collision, but every other part of her wanted nothing more than to get just a glimpse of the blonde.
One moment Azzi is surrounded by flashing cameras and the echo of her name on everyone’s lips, the next everything around her is fading away her eyes meet Paige’s on the other end of the WNBA draft orange carpet. It’s nothing new really. Since she’s met her, the blonde has commandeered all of Azzi’s attention whenever she’s nearby. Sometimes it feels like all of her other five senses fade away to give birth to a secret sixth one, one that’s solely dedicated to Paige, one that’s terrifyingly all-consuming. And yet, despite the heaviness of we’ve said too many goodbyes, for the first time in what feels like eternity, Azzi feels like she can finally breathe.
And then Paige looks away.
And Azzi’s back to struggling for air.
It’s selfish of her, she knows, to expect something, not when she’d been the one to leave them stranded on different islands. But Azzi doesn’t seem to think logically when it comes to Paige and even as she tries to turn her focus back to posing for the camera, every inch of her body is dangerously aware of the blonde’s every move, just a mere few feet away from her. Her conversation with her mother is echoing in her head, giving rise to dangerous desires of what if i grabbed your hand and we ran away together.
Paige is a natural on the orange carpet, all dazzling smiles and twinkling eyes. She glides through it, inching closer and closer to Azzi, but never giving away any sense of discomfort. And if it was anybody else, maybe they’d never catch onto the nerves hidden beneath Paige’s facade of calm, cool and collected. But once upon a time Paige used to be Azzi’s favourite puzzle and she has every part of the blonde committed to memory. It’s in the way Paige’s teeth gnaw at her lips for the briefest of seconds, in the way her right index finger is begging to tap a beat against where her hands rests on hips, in the way she’s blinking just one too many times.
And then with one more heavy footed step from Paige, the distance between them is barely a couple inches and they let out identical breaths of air, both of them keeping their focus on the cameras in front of them. It’s loud, too loud, and still all Azzi can focus on is the sound of Paige breathing. The air around them is thick with tension. It feels a bit like they’re silhouetted against a sky made of words they’ve left unsaid and clouds of all the bitter mistakes they’ve made are hanging over their heads. And when their pinkies brush together, and a jolt of electricity sends shivers of I miss you more every day again her skin, Azzi questions if she’s ever made the right decision when it comes to Paige.
“Wait wait wait,” Ari cuts in, as she squeezes herself in between the two of them, “I wanna get in between the two of you.”
A harsh cry of no sits heavily on the top of Azzi’s tongue as the older woman forces a break in whatever little bit of contact she’d had with Paige. She feels a little pathetic, the way every little inch of her skin is craving for that touch back. It had been nothing, a barely there moment and still Azzi thinks, when she goes to bed tonight, if that was all she’d get of Paige, then it’ll be the only thing that’ll feature in her dreams.
“Alright one with just Paige and Azzi,” Ari directs the media, stepping out of the way and pushing the two younger girls together. And it’s laughable that a little brush of their pinkies had Azzi feeling any type of way because when they’re suddenly pressed together, every inch of Paige’s side fitting into Azzi’s like it belongs, the way the world suddenly bursts with light and colours makes Azzi wonder if every moment without Paige has simply been monochrome.
It comes to them naturally how to pose together, arms winding around each other’s waist, heads involuntarily leaning against the other’s. And the smiles might be for the cameras but Azzi knows hers is the most real it’s been all night. It might be temporary, she might lose Paige in the chaos, but for now Paige is here and Azzi has learned how to be content with whatever little she can get.
As the media moves to capture other people, the logical thing to do would be to separate, to let go of each other. But instead they stand there, still completely wrapped around each other, heart rates in sync as they breathe in each other’s presence. And then Paige’s hand falls from the small of Azzi’s back to tangle their fingers together and they let out identical sighs of relief, something so cathartic in the purposefulness of that touch. Everyone is too busy to notice that the two of them have fallen into a whole other world, one where there’s only two of them and every emotion that they’ve only reserved for the other. There’s no words exchanged as Paige guides the two of them out of the spotlight, somehow keeping their hands clasped together in secret, despite the ever growing crowd. And Azzi doesn’t know this building at all, doesn’t have the faintest clue where she’s being led to, but as long as it’s Paige pulling her along, she doesn’t care where, she thinks she’d go anywhere.
Paige stops abruptly in a secluded corridor, turning to fully face Azzi. And the sincerity in the blonde’s crystalline blue eyes, as they roam every inch of Azzi’s body before coming to fixate on her face, steals the air away from Azzi’s lungs. Paige has gotten better over the years at building walls, but with every new lock she places on her emotions, there’s a key to open them that seems to always find its way to Azzi. In the delicate golden hue, Paige shines brighter than any star ever could and in the dim light Azzi can make out every bit of hurt and love and please can we just have this moment that Paige can’t put into words.
“Hi,” Azzi whispers softly, hands itching to reach out and caress Paige’s skin.
“Hi,” Paige says back, even quieter. She stares at Azzi as if she’s memorising every little detail and then her face crumbles. Azzi feels her heart drop at the single tear that trickles down Paige’s cheek as she lets out a broken whimper. And this, this unspoken power they seem to have over each other, the uncanny ability to just hurt each other without any bit of effort, is what scares Azzi the most. It’s too much. They shouldn’t be able to do this.
“Paige,” Azzi’s fingers twitch but she hesitates, not knowing if it’s the right thing, “fuck- P what’s wrong?”
Paige doesn’t reply, eyes wandering down to where Azzi’s trying to keep her hands still against her sides and when she looks back up, her eyes are bloodshot, “what’s wrong? What’s not wrong Azzi? You won’t even fucking touch me.”
“I didn’t-” Azzi struggles to speak, “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“Can you just- fuck- can you just stop overthinking things for once in your life. Of course I want you to touch- you know what nevermind. This was a bad idea. You made yourself clear and I’m just- fuck- I should- I should just go.”
She sounds adamant enough but all it takes, when Paige moves to leave, is the strangled cry that leaves Azzi’s lips. The sound is enough to pull Paige right back in. She takes one look at the tears brimming in Azzi’s eyes. And then she’s pushing Azzi against a wall, hands on either side caging the younger girl between her body and the hard surface behind. She presses their foreheads together and Azzi feels like every part of her might just be a part of Paige too.
“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It’s barely been two weeks and I- fuck- Azzi- I’ve missed you every single second and now you’re here and I still miss you. And it really fucking hurts.”
“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, finally letting her hands cup Paige’s cheeks, and it’s worth it for the way Paige seems to completely melt into her touch, “I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I keep thinking I’m doing the right thing but- I don’t know- I feel like I’m always doing the wrong thing when it comes to you. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”
“Just let me be with you,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with desperation as she presses herself as close to Azzi as possible, “I’ll be your whatever- whatever you give me- whatever you want- I just- I just want you Az- whatever little bit you’re willing to give me- I’ll take it- and if you want me to wait- fuck Azzi- I’d wait forever- you know that right? However long it takes, baby. Just want you- just want us.”
Leaps of faith are scary. Azzi’s never been great at taking them, too cautious, too much of a worrier. She’s more of a step back from the cliff kind of person. If she doesn’t jump, she can’t fall. But here’s the thing, when she was fourteen, Azzi jumped off of her first hypothetical cliff. It had been on a plane, when after avoiding one too many deep questions, Azzi had admitted to a girl she barely knew,that maybe she could like girls. It was the first time she’d ever let herself acknowledge that truth about herself and the girl next to her was a stranger but there was something about her, something that screamed i’ll hold your hand and if you jump it’ll never be alone. And ever since then, that girl, Paige, has always been there. Hands outstretched, ready to jump off any ledge. Because if there’s hard ground underneath, then they’ll learn how to fly together and if there’s water, they’ll figure out how to swim. With Paige there has always been the promise that, whatever it is, they’ll figure it out together. And it’s with that promise in mind, that Azzi takes the leap of faith.
“Me too,” Azzi whispers, heart beating erratically.
“What?” Paige searches Azzi’s face, as if waiting for her to take it back.
“Us. You. You and me. I want that too,” a ghost of a smile begins to creep onto Azzi’s face, and for the first time in god knows how long, she feels feather light, a little bit like she’s floating on a rainbow.
“You mean it?” Paige asks earnestly, hands moving from the wall to clutch at Azzi’s waist, “don’t play-Azzi- okay- you mean it for real?”
“I do. I want this- I want this so much and I’m still- I’m still really scared and maybe it’ll be a disaster but I- I want to try. With you.”
Azzi used to think she knew all of Paige’s smiles. Her small, not quite fake, but only for cameras and people she didn’t quite know, smiles. Her just for my friends smile that was filled with mirth and childlike joy. Her basketball smile that transformed into a smirk when she got too cocky. Her only for Drew smile, soft and filled with so much adoration and pride. Her Azzi smile, the one only the brown-skinned girl gets to experience, a smile that made Azzi’s her heart swell with love. But the smile that stretches across Paige’s face now, is one Azzi’s never seen before. This one throws Azzi’s entire world of balance, so bright, so big, so full of emotions. If she could, she’d tattoo that smile onto her skin forever.
“We’re really doing this?” Paige asks, still a little stunned. It wasn’t what Azzi had planned for tonight. She hadn’t really had any plans for what would really happen. But then Paige had walked in and all Azzi could see was forever she was tired of fighting against.
“We should take it slow okay-” Azzi wraps her arms around the older girl’s neck, keeping their foreheads still against each other’s, “I don’t- I don’t wanna rush into things and fuck it up. I can’t- fuck- I can’t lose y-”
“You won’t,” Paige swears, squeezing at Azzi’s wait, “I won’t let you. We can take it slow. We can take it however you want- I just- we’re doing this?”
“Yeah,” Azzi can’t help the grin that fills up her entire face, “yeah we’re doing this.”
And as they surge forward to claim each other’s lips, and as they meld every inch of themselves into each other, and as they smile and cry into the kiss simultaneously, and as they etch promises into each other skin, and as they let themselves finally fall into each other, for each other, it feels a lot like coming home.
***
July 2024
The early morning sunlight casts a dark shadow across Paige’s face, causing the still asleep blonde to scrunch up her face in irritation. Azzi, who’s been awake for nearly half an hour now, can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto her own lips. She shifts herself to block the sun and Paige lets out a content sigh, burrowing herself further into her pillows. And the thing is every moment with Paige is special but there’s something about waking up to her in the morning. Azzi’s always awake first and it gives her ample time to just admire the girl in her arms, blond hair tousled all over her pillow, lips parted slightly open, and one arm always, always, splayed across Azzi’s torso, holding her close. Over the course of time, Azzi’s found out that the second she moves, Paige seems to feel her leave, waking up instantly.
There had been an adjustment period if Azzi's honest. It had taken her a while to shake that fear of Paige not being there in the morning. The first morning, she’d been scared to open her eyes, even if she could feel Paige’s presence right next to her. That had been one of the few mornings that Paige was fully awake first, hovering above Azzi to wake her up. And when she finally did get the courage to open her eyes, the first thing Azzi had seen was Paige, blue eyes sparkling with unfiltered adoration, a smile filled with promises of every morning just like this. And that had been enough.
Azzi reaches out to brush a hand through Paige’s soft blond hair, mesmerised by how pretty Paige looks in the morning glow. A lot of Paige belongs to the world now and Azzi’s not opposed to sharing really, because someone so fucking perfect, deserves to be celebrated like that. But there are some parts of Paige that belong to Azzi and Azzi only, some parts Azzi cherishes as being only hers. This is one of them and Azzi takes a snapshot of it, knowing she’ll need it to function in a few months, when she won’t get the real thing.
“Are you watching Paige sleep?” Azzi almost jumps at the sound of Drew’s voice at the doorway, having been too immersed in Paige to have even heard the door open, “that’s kinda creepy Azzi.”
“Jesus Drew, whatever happened to knocking?”
“I forgot?” Drew grins, before he plops on the bed, the force of it making the whole frame shake a little bit.
“Drew!” Azzi chides, “you’re gonna wake her up.”
Drew cocks his eyebrows, sparing his sister, who seems unphased by the sudden little bit of chaos around her, still fast asleep, an unimpressive look, “please she can sleep through anything. Besides, it’s already 9. I thought we were gonna do things. I been up for aaaages.”
“She’ll be awake soon,” Azzi smiles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. Drew rolls his eyes and it’s remarkable how much he resembles Paige, not just by face, but the mannerisms too.
He huffs for a second before his eyes sparkle with an idea, “what if we pour water on her!”
“Drew!” Azzi chastises again, trying not to giggle.
“Boo,” Drew crosses his arms across his chest, “you used to be so cool Azzi.”
Azzi laughs as she’s reminded of a younger version of herself, scheming with Drew on how to wake Paige up. And it’s not that she’s beyond that really, tucking the water idea for a rainy day, but Paige looks too peaceful this morning and she wants to preserve that look of serenity on the older girl’s face for just a little bit longer.
“Hey Azzi,” Drew says after a while and Azzi hums in response, “when you and Paige get married, I can still be a groomsman right? Even if there’s no grooms?”
“Wha- where did that come from?” the brunette’s eyes widened at the question, sitting up a little straighter.
Drew peers up at her with all the innocence of a pre-teen, “you are gonna get married right?”
“I don’t-”
“It’s too early for your yapping Drew,” Azzi’s saved from answering by Paige’s tired voice entering the conversation. She looks over to find Paige’s eyes already on her, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at Azzi. If Drew wasn’t sitting right there, Azzi would lean over and kiss her and let Paige deepen it until they were both satisfied.
“Oh thank god,” Drew cheers dramatically, “I thought you were gonna sleep forever.”
Paige scoffs, the arm that’s still wrapped around Azzi’s torso tightening its hold, “I wish.”
“Well you’re awake now so get up,” Drew whines, moving from his spot on the end of the bed, to flop on top of Paige’s body instead, “get up, get up, GET UP.”
“Get off,” Paige groans but there’s no real force behind it. Azzi watches with a fond smile, as Paige flips Drew over so that she can tickle him, eliciting rounds of laughter from the younger boy. Something in her heart flutters, her mind going back to Drew’s question. She’s never really been one to think too hard about marriage and children and that domestic suburban life, leaving it up to fate, but now- well, maybe.
“Okay aight aight enough. Go get ready for breakfast and we’ll be down in a second,” Paige says, ushering Drew off of the bed.
“You can just tell me you want me to leave so you can kiss Azzi you know?” Drew scrunches up his nose, “you two are gross.”
Paige sends him a stern look and gets a dramatic eye roll in return but as he always does, Drew does as he’s told, mock saluting the two of them and skipping out of the room.
“He’s right by the way,” Paige says softly, turning back to where Azzi’s leaning against the backboard, “I do want to kiss you.”
Azzi smirks lopsidedly, “what’s stopping you?”
She squeals in surprise when Paige pulls her, the force of it causing both of them to tumble onto the front-end of the bed. Azzi ends up on top of Paige, hands resting around her neck, the blonde’s hands holding her waist in place.
“Good morning,” Paige grins, clearly proud of herself as she chases Azzi’s lips to pull her into a searing kiss.
“Good morning,” Azzi whispers back, thumb caressing Paige’s left cheek.
“Just so you know,” Paige pulls away, a determined glint in her eyes, “we’re so getting married one day.”
***
October 2024
Azzi’s mood has been rancid for the last couple of weeks. It’s terrible she knows; it makes her irritating to play with and a nightmare to live with. But even if this had been expected, that she would be on one end of the country and her heart would be on the other side, it doesn’t stop her from constantly being in a state of missing Paige. And it’s different from before, now that there’s a certain surety of of course i’ll see you soon but soon never really feels soon enough.
“Azzi can you please get the door,” Kiki calls from her room when the doorbell rings.
“I’m busy,” Azzi grunts back, snuggling further into her pillow with a book she isn’t actually reading, “you go get it.”
“Azzi please, I’m literally in the middle of getting dressed,” Kiki yells exasperatedly.
If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s pretty sure her teammates are about this close to plotting her murder, and deservedly so, Azzi would sink back onto her bed and let the incessant doorbell noise continue. But she does love her teammates, thinks Kiki probably deserves to change in peace, and it forces her out of bed, grumbling away about annoying visitors. Until she actually gets a look at the visitor. Paige stands on the doorstep, confident as ever, a bouquet of roses and peonies and lilies in her hand.
“You’re here,” Azzi breathes out, staring in awe.
“And thank fucking god she is,” Kiki quips from behind her, “maybe we can finally get our old happy Azzi back and not this bitch.”
Paige laughs, “watch how you talk about my girl Rice.”
“You’re here. You’re really here,” Azzi whispers again.
“I heard you missed me baby,” Paige says, her cocky smirk betrayed by the softness in her voice. And then Azzi is flying into her arms, throwing Paige off balance.
“So fucking much,” Azzi admits into Paige’s neck, eliciting a giggle from the blonde, “Kiki’s right. I have been a bitch.”
“Just a little bit,” Kiki calls out again but there’s a new fondness in her voice. It’s funny how her team, even the haters, have slowly become Paige fans. They’d been hesitant at first, just like the UConn girls, but now well, it seems the basketball world’s Montagues and Capulets have learned to accept their star players’ relationship.
“Missed you too Az,” Paige’s tone is vulnerable as they break away, “alright, go get changed, I wanna take you somewhere.”
“Or…,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, “we could stay here and do something else.”
Paige shivers under her touch, stepping away to keep some semblance of control “n-no I have plans,” but she can’t help but kiss Azzi’s pout away, “it’ll be worth it, I promise. Besides,” she bites at Azzi’s ear, “there’s always later.”
***
“Your big plans are to bring me to the supermarket,” Azzi cocks an eyebrow as they walk down one of the many aisles, “you turned down sex for this? Should I be offended?”
Paige doesn’t say anything, concentratedly looking at signs, trying to figure out a specific section, before an aha! moment dances over her face, and she pulls Azzi with her, the younger girl going willingly, despite the eye roll. She stops triumphantly in front of the sushi section and Azzi looks at her quizzically.
“I’m getting you supermarket sushi,” Paige says pointedly, “and then you can get me mac and cheese.”
And if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favourite mac and cheese. Oh. The realisation of what Paige is doing trickles around Azzi a little bit like rain after a long summer drought. She thinks back to the bouquet, everything suddenly making sense.
“You’re such a dork Paige Bueckers,” Azzi says softly, tapping the older girl’s nose.
“Your dork,” Paige grins cheesily, “now hurry up and pick one. I don’t wanna miss the sunset.”
***
Once she catches on it, it doesn’t surprise Azzi to find that Paige has everything planned out perfectly, down to the exact spot in the park- the one by Paige’s recovery airBnB, the one they’d taken countless walks in trying to repair their friendship- where the two of them can be away from everybody else, in their own little bubble. And she has a picnic blanket, that’s a little small but they don’t really want space from each other anyways. They lean against a tree, food set up in front of them, Paige’s laptop, carefully piled on top of a couple of books to be the perfect height, set a little bit further away.
“So what NBA game are we watching?” Azzi asks with a smile and Paige groans, “what? Was that not part of the plan?”
“Dude come on. It’s the beginning of October. Please tell me you know the NBA season isn’t happening yet,” Paige rubs her temple, only a little endeared by the comment, “are you sure you’re a basketball player?”
“There are games in October. I swear I’ve seen them before,” Azzi says sceptically.
“Yeah at the very end of the month, not right now.”
“Well then close enough,” Azzi says indignantly, “I don’t need to know the exact day.”
“Whatever you say baby,” Paige acquiesces with a smirk and it earns her an elbow to the stomach, “what the fuck? That shit’s domestic violence you know?”
“Big words Bueckers, didn’t think you knew them,” Azzi teases, placing a kiss against Paige’s offended expression, before settling herself against the blonde’s side, sighing contentedly when she gets a kiss on her temple in return. They’re cliché enough to put on Love and Basketball, but Azzi doesn’t really end up watching much at all. In between slow kisses, she almost falls asleep a couple of times, the comfort of Paige’s arms like a blanket wrapping her in the warmth of this is my fairytale.
“THE POLAROID,” Paige’s shout breaks Azzi out of her haze as she feels her body being shaken off, the blonde rummaging through her bag for the camera, “we have to take the polaroid. My wall needs it.”
“Oh yeah a tiny polaroid picture of us inbetween all your Lebron posters, a perfect fit,” Azzi drawls only to be met with a scathing look from Paige.
“It’s for important things and Lebron is the most important of them all,” Paige explains with complete seriousness, as she finally finds the polaroid camera and shimmies back to Azzi with it in hand.
The sunset is beautiful. Pink, purple, orange and blue, all blending together to create the perfect picture. But Azzi thinks it’s not nearly as beautiful as the girl in front of her, not nearly as beautiful as the date Paige had planned, not nearly as beautiful as the future she can so clearly see now. Her mind drifts back to the night of the phone call, and she can almost hear Paige’s sobs again, can still hear her own voice breaking. Back then, they had seemed impossible, a butterfly like dream that danced out of their grasp.
“Hey,” Paige captures her chin with two fingers, “where’d you go?”
Azzi shakes her head, “nowhere. I’m right here. With you. Where I should be.”
“Sappy goof,” Paige snorts but she kisses Azzi like she’ll take those words and hide them in the labyrinth of her mind, protect them there forever.
Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks.
Click.
And Azzi hopes, that however many years later, when they have a home of their own, amidst all the photos that they’ll take over the next years, this one will be hung somewhere on their wall, a testament to finally realising every dream they’d dared to dream together.
***
December 2024
There are pebbles being thrown at her window and Azzi has to stop herself from laughing when she peers down to see Paige, freezing cold in the Virginia December air, staring up at her with a goofy smile. She shakes her head when her phone rings, knowing it’s Paige and answers it with her own foolish grin.
“What exactly are you doing?” Azzi asks, “come back to bed.”
“You said I was unromantic. I’m trying to be romantic,” Paige’s teeth chatter in the cold, as she balances her phone in one hand, still throwing rocks with the other.
“I didn’t say that and throwing rocks at my window is supposed to be romantic? You’re going to wake the whole house up.”
“That’s what they do in all the good rom coms. And you said and I quote ‘we’re kind of boring’. You might be boring Azzi Fudd but I most definitely am not.”
It had been a throwaway comment Azzi had made at dinner with some friends from high school. One of her friends had been going on and on about some adventurous trip that she and her boyfriend were going on, and then asked Paige and Azzi if they had any of that planned. To which Azzi had replied that they were a little too busy, considering they were college basketball players still in season, and besides they were “kind of boring” people. She hadn’t meant it in any type of way. Personally, Azzi likes boring. Paige however, seemed to have taken the comment to heart and Azzi had woken up at 2 a.m. to an empty bed and the sound of something being thrown at her window.
“Okay I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You're really interesting baby and the most romantic person in the world. Now will you please come back to bed,” Azzi concedes, already missing the feeling of being cuddled up in her blankets with Paige’s body heat keeping her nice and toasty.
“No,” Paige says indignantly, “come down here.”
“Paige, it's freezing. It’s gonna start snowing any minute.”
“Exactly. That’s exciting.”
“Sleep is exciting,” Azzi whines, but she’s already padding around her room looking for a warm sweater, grumbling under her breath about the warm California sun she’s missing. She tiptoes down the staircase, wincing at the one step that creaks just a little too much, before pushing herself out the door. And it’s freezing cold, there’s sleep in her eyes, but it’s all worth it Azzi thinks, it’ll always be worth it, just to experience Paige’s smile.
“Knew you’d come,” Paige grins cockily, mittened hands pulling Azzi into her.
“Yeah yeah. What are we even doing?”
“Azzi Fudd,” Paige bellows dramatically, “may I have this dance.”
Azzi stares at Paige’s outstretched hand wondering if this is some sort of cry for help, but one look at Paige’s face tells her that the girl in front of her is being absolutely serious.
“This is your idea of exciting? Dancing in the street while it’s freezing with no music?” Azzi raises an eyebrow, but she takes Paige’s hand.
“It’s spontaneous,” Paige says the last word with a flourish, as she spins Azzi, “why not dance in the street when it’s freezing with no music?”
And well, that’s a fair point. If anyone were to look out their window that night, they’d probably think the two girls were somewhat crazy. Laughing and giggling and tripping over each other as Paige hums a melody and Azzi occasionally joins in. It’s ridiculous and corny and cliché and perfect. And then the first little bit of snow falls, white drops circling around the two dancing girls, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes. The dim glow of the streetlight is enough to catch identical smiles on the two girl’s faces as they revel in each other.
“You know some people say if you make a wish during the first snowfall, it’ll come true,” Paige whispers, still waltzing the two of them around, cheek pressed to Azzi’s, “you wanna try?”
And the thing is Azzi doesn’t really believe in all of that, in magic but something about Paige, something about this moment feels magical. It makes a believer out of Azzi.
“Yeah,” Azzi smiles, “let’s make a wish.”
They stand still, holding hands, eyes closed, both a little breathless, as they make their wishes. And when they open them, if it feels a little bit like maybe their wishes have already been granted, well they’ll share it in a secret smile but never out loud. After all, wishes don’t come true if you speak of them.
***
April 2025
7 seconds to go in the National Championship and Azzi’s UCLA Bruins are down by two points. It’s her last chance, having already declared for the 2025 WNBA draft, to win a national championship, to bring home their first basketball national championship since the 1978 team that had won the AIAW championship, to win their first NCAA championship ever. It had taken some sheer luck to get to this point if Azzi’s honest. As a two-seed in the Spokane region, they’d benefitted from their one-seed having been eliminated early and then getting to face a Cinderella six-seed in the final four. On the other side of the bracket, UConn, the favourites coming for a repeat, had been stunned by another team, the team that UCLA was now facing. That had caused a bit of a second-hand sting and Azzi’s not really trying to take revenge for Paige, but it'd be a lie to say the get back at them for me babe from earlier this morning isn’t ringing in her head.
The play is simple, set screens for Azzi, get her open, get her the ball. A two would get them to a tie and three would win it outright. Either will do. It’s a little too reminiscent of last year when Azzi had failed at tying the final 4 game and she can still feel that loss on the tips of her fingers. They break out from their last timeout, breathlessly running to their spots on the floor. The whistle blows, Kiki inbounds the ball and everything is a blur. All Azzi knows is the shot clock is winding down. She runs off of what feels like a million screens. And then she’s open on the wing, for a millisecond. A perfect pass from Kiki makes sure the ball lands straight in Azzi’s hand. And she doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even notice the defender put up a hand, she shoots the ball. There’s two people on the court that know for sure that ball is going in the minute it leaves Azzi’s fingers, the shooter herself and her biggest fan in the stands, who’s been just a little bit in love with that shooting stroke, since before anything else had even begun.
With a delicate swish, the ball falls through the net, the buzzer sounds around the arena, the crowd explodes in blue and gold, as the UCLA Bruins win the 2025 national championship.
Everything stills in Azzi’s brain for a second, her thoughts taking a second to catch up to reality. She’s never really been one to emotion on the court, keeping herself steely guarded through most games, even at the very end. But now, triumph and pride and just utter happiness at finally achieving one of her biggest dreams, comes roaring to the surface, manifesting itself throughout her entire body, as she lets out a scream of joy. Her teammates engulf her and she gets lost in a sea of hugs and tears and bright, decadent smiles.
As thing start to calm down, there’s really only one thing on Azzi’s mind and Paige’s words echo in her ears, because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. And Azzi thinks maybe Paige had discovered one of the biggest truths of their life with that, the truth that at the end of day, in any moment, big or small, happy or sad, the one person Azzi wants next to her, is her Paige. It’s been that way since she was fourteen, and too young to really understand the meaning of wanting someone forever, and she thinks if she has her way, it’ll be like that for the rest of her life, the rest of their life.
Paige is beaming in the crowd, standing next to Jon and José, a #35 jersey proudly adorning her torso. She waves when she catches Azzi’s eyes, always her biggest cheerleader. And Azzi throws caution to the wind, fuck it, not caring that there’s still a large crowd or that cameras are likely to follow her every move. She pushes her way into the stands, stopping right in front of the blonde.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless.
A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”
Azzi grins before merging their lips together and everything else fades to the background, until she’s consumed by nothing but Paige. They break apart far quicker than either of them would like and Azzi expects to feel just a little bit of fear at what she’s just done, likely given the media a spectacle they could run a million and one stories about but instead, with her forehead still pressed against Paige’s, she feels nothing but calm.
“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi whispers and Paige’s eyes widen. They’ve known it for a while now but it’s the first time either of them have said it.
“Say it again,” Paige demands.
“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi says again, grinning so hard, she thinks it might become her permanent expression, “like really fucking in love with you.”
“I’m so in love with you,” Paige whispers, pulling Azzi into a bone-crushing hug.
And this might not be the moment where everything finally comes together. There’s still so much life left to live, so much that they still need to work through, so much they’ve yet to deal with. But for now, Azzi has a national championship and she has the love of her life, the rest will work itself out, or so she hopes.
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Hii sian!! Im new to your page and i love your writing! I don't know if requests are open rn tho. So feel free to ignore this! I was thinking if you could write something like dom!hyunjin x fem!reader and like hyunjin punishing reader for flirting with some other guys. feel free to ignore it and if you do want to write it i will be more then happy to read it! Also it can involve anything:3
hi nonnie❤! thank you :') I'm glad you've enjoyed everything so far! requests are open :3 if you're ever not sure just check my pinned post!
hope you enjoy hehe <3
Much Needed Reminder
˚ʚDom!Hyunjin x Model!Readerɞ˚
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~2.3k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, rough sex, meaner Hyunjin (my staple at this point sry not sry), dirty talk, ‘slut’ name calling, some spanking, overstim, mentions of edging
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: fun fact: the name Choi (최) is actually pronounced "Chwe/Chwi" :)
MDNI!! smut below the cut
DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!
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You’re currently in some random studio in Seoul, modeling for an upcoming collaboration you were having with Beauty of Joseon, a skincare company. Your boyfriend happily tagged along for once, since he finally had some free time outside of his schedule. He sat in the sidelines and watched you do your thing, giving you a huge smile anytime your eyes met his. It led to some of the team’s favorite shots of you: your genuine smile shining from the attention of your lover.
All was going well until a few hours in, you noticed the lingering eyes of the producer staring at your cleavage any chance he could. It made you feel grossed out, but when your eyes landed on your boyfriend’s murderous gaze, you couldn't stop your legs from pushing together. ‘It’s been a while since we’ve had sex anyways… why not make a little game out of it.’
So, a game you started. It started with fake bashful glances at the producer, making sure both mens eyes were on you when doing so. Then, it quickly moved on to overly dramatic whines and puppy dog eyes whenever the producer would come up to you in order to describe a new pose. You could tell by the pink cheeks of the producer and the narrowed eyes of your boyfriend that the game was already going in your favor.
The final straw was when everybody was wrapping up, putting away the products and their cameras. You all but skipped over to the producer, placing your soft hands on his bare arms and squeezing. “Thank you so much, Producer Choi! I had soooo much fun today.” You made sure to say it loud enough so that the outraged boy watching your every move could hear your tone clearly. If Hyunjin wasn’t so blind by anger, he would’ve seen right through your fake act.
However, he is NOT God’s strongest soldier, and the sight of your hands on another man had him rising to his feet. He turned his back to the scene and walked towards the snack tables to grab a bottle of water. You watched him from your peripheral and the nonexistent victory screen was already in your line of sight.
Feeling quite proud of yourself, you suddenly tell the producer that you couldnt wait to ‘have him as a friend’ and quickly moved your hands away from him. You ignored the way his eyes widened and his smile faltered, and you offered him a sweet smile as you swiftly made your way to the double doors labeled “EXIT.”
As you’re walking down the long hallway, you hear long steps following you. You smirk to yourself and make a show to sway your hips with each step you take. There’s a faint groan and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. As you step in front of the door with your name on it, you’re suddenly pushed against it. You let out a sigh as the ‘unknown’ man behind you pushes you into the door, rubbing his bulge between your ass cheeks. He sighs out a low “Jagiya..” and your mouth moves before your brain can stop you from digging yourself into a deeper hole.
“Oh~.. Is that you, Producer Choi?”
The man behind you tenses before essentially growling into your hair. He swings the door open and shoves you in, slamming the door behind him before stalking towards you. You’re quickly turned and pushed up against your vanity, meeting the angry and narrowed eyes of your boyfriend. His eyes dip down to your smirk and he rolls his eyes before grabbing you by the chin.
“You are such a pain in my ass.” He mumbles out, pulling you into a wet kiss and pinning between his body and the table. His hands fiddle with the bottom of your dress, pulling it up and above your head as he pulls away from your lips. You go to complain and ask what he thinks he’s doing all of the sudden but his hand moves to grab your cheeks, squishing them together and making it hard for you to speak clearly.
“If you wanted to be fucked so bad you could have just asked me, honey. No need to go rub your pretty hands all over some filthy freak who you don’t even know. You’re mine.”
You giggle against his hold and when his hands move down to cup your waist, you finally speak out, “Yeah but where’s the fun in that?”
“You think you’re just sooo cute, don’t you baby…” He whispers into your ear, his hands teasingly trailing down your sides to rest against your hips. When you nod with a big grin on your face he can’t stop himself from laughing. “Yeah, you really are. But I think you need a reminder of who you belong to. That cuteness won’t stop me from fucking you stupid all over this room.” He spins you around and roughly pushes you into the laminated table top by the back of your head.
You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him unbuckling his belt and pulling his lower clothes down in one go. He lands a loud smack to your right ass cheek, pulling your hips against his own when you squeak and run from the contact. His hands grip onto your waist and pull you back into him, also pushing you into the table to angle you downwards.
His free hand traces his tip along your folds to gather your wetness before pushing in rather impatiently. Off the bat he set a brutal pace, pummeling into you with each thrust as his hands roamed all over your body. He possessively squeezed at your hips and your shoulders anytime he passed them, hoping if he did it enough it would mark his name into your skin forever.
“F-Fuck! Hyunjin, wait! The d-door is unlocked.”
“Good. Maybe I’ll even fuck you up against it and let the staff hear your slutty moans so they know who you belong to.”
You whine at the thought, letting your eyes flutter closed. Your cheeks constantly rubbed against the table as your hands dug into the edge of it. Your hands shakily move near your chest in an attempt to push yourself up. But before you know it, one of his hands trails into your hair and grabs a fistful from your scalp. He angles your head back and uses his grip as leverage to hold you in place against the vanity as he fucked your brains out.
You cry out when your eyes land on the mirror above you. You were met with the sight of your boyfriend’s thick lips caught between his teeth, his eyes narrowed and focused on where his hips smacked against yours. His arm muscles flexed with the sheer strength he used to hold you down, and the sight had your legs shaking.
“Jinnieee.. Fffuck. I’m so close, pleaaase.” Your pleas sounded so desperate, but you couldn’t find it in you to care when one of his long fingers reached under you to rub messy shapes onto your clit. With the added stimulation, it took you no time to gush around him. Your legs shook beneath you as your orgasm ran through your body. It passed fast and once you were finished, Hyunjin quickly pulled out. You didn’t feel him cum and you looked back at him confused.
“I’m not even close yet, so we’re not done. You wanna act like a slut, you’re gonna get treated like one.” He growled out, pulling you away from the vanity and towards the loveseat in the room. He took a seat, spreading his legs widely before pulling you onto his lap. As your hips went to rest on him, he positioned himself so that you sat on his dick. You both let out low moans at the feeling, but his hands quickly moved away from you in favor of resting behind his head. When you made another confused face at him, he just smirked and leaned back against the couch. “C’mon baby. Work for it. I won’t do any of the work this round.”
You whine loudly and frown down at him, getting ready to complain that your legs were too weak but he thrusts his hips upwards roughly after your whine. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Now hurry up before I leave you high and dry for the rest of the day.” You both knew he would never actually do it, he was way too obsessed with you and your body to even think about doing such a thing. But the way he casually lounged had you believing it and you clenched tightly onto him, pulling a cocky smirk from him.
Your bottom lip quivered but you dragged your hips against his, grinding against him slowly for a few minutes. You barely processed one of his hands moving as you ground yourself harder against him, whimpering at the way his shirt rubbed against your puffy clit. There was a harsh sting and a loud slap to your ass that sent you jumping forward. You expected to land against his broad chest, but instead you landed in a grasp that was his long fingers wrapped against your throat. Your gaze moved to lock with his but your eyes quickly shut feeling another slap hit your ass cheek.
“F-Fuck!” you cried out, tightening even more as you felt his fingers tighten around your neck.
“Do it the right way, baby.” He commanded, moving his hand from your ass to rest on your thigh. You finally lifted yourself and bounced on his dick, letting out desperate moans as you swore you could feel him in your stomach. You rode him like this for some time, only slowing down to admire his features.
He was leaned as far back as the chair allowed, face dripping with sweat as his lips held the biggest shit-eating grin ever known to mankind. From your movements, the hand on your thigh had fallen to your knee and his other hand continued to rest like a puzzle piece against your throat. Your hips stuttered as your orgasm suddenly snuck up on you. Creaming from just looking at your boyfriend must have been a new record.
Your movements almost completely stopped as your thighs shook uncontrollably, but Hyunjin wasn’t having any of that. His hands moved from their spots to grab your wrists, pinning them to your back in an X formation as he pulled you to lean on him. You were too distracted to notice the way your head fell to his shoulder, but you nestled into his neck when you felt his hips begin to slam into you.
You silently screamed from the overstimulation, quickly biting into his neck and crying out against his skin as he gave you no chance to recover. With the way his hands held yours, you had no choice but to take what was given. You felt saliva pooling in your mouth and you tried desperately to swallow it but one deep into your cervix thrust had you seeing stars. It finally dripped down your chin as he spoke up for the first time in what felt like forever.
“Nice and d-deep, right baby? Just how my little slut likes it?” He stuttered through the teasing statement at the feeling of his balls tensing up, and you could feel his thrusts getting sloppier. You nodded into his neck as your third orgasm built up fast, causing your nails to dig into your palms.
“You’re MY girl. This pretty pussy and this?” He pauses to land a slap on your ass, “This nice ass? Is MINE. Nobody can fuck you or love you like I do.” This sends you over the edge and you let out an porn-star like moan as you cum, your tightness finally being too much for him to handle and he finishes next.
The room is filled with nothing but your combined breaths as your heartbeats slowly return to normal. Your legs shake almost nonstop for a while after you calm down, and you find yourself whimpering at the feeling of Hyunjin pulling out. His dick slaps against his stomach and he coos soothingly against your ear.
Your forehead was still shoved against his shoulder when your eyes finally noticed your drool connecting your lips to his jacket. You shakily pulled away and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.
You sat on his thighs, feeling his cum drip out of you and onto the floor as his pretty hands massaged circles into your hips and his pretty lips whispered sweet nothings into your ear. Ranging from “You did so good for me, honey. Took me so well.” to “You’re so pretty, my little masterpiece. I got you, I got you. Don’t worry.”
By the time you both return to normal, you’ve been changed into new clothes and Hyunjin has become distracted and newly obsessed with the drool stain on his jacket. He could feel himself getting hard again while staring at it, but forced himself to tear his eyes away once it was time to leave. He grabbed your combined belongings and had you hold onto his arm as he led you to the taxi he had called on the ride down the elevator.
Everything was back to normal and extra sweet as he opened the door for you to sit first, then shoved your things into the truck before taking his own seat. You smiled up at him with those pretty eyes and whispered into his ear, “That was so much fun, Jinnie.. Sorry I flirted with the producer, but you see what my vision was.”
He laughed and pulled you into a soft kiss before leaning into your ear to whisper, “Oh, don’t worry baby, your punishment has barely even started. Once we’re home I’m edging you all night.”
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#anon asks <3#sian’s writing#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#hyunjin x reader#hyunjin x reader smut#hyunjin smut#hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin x reader#hwang hyunjin smut#hwang hyujin imagines
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Lucy bronze x reader please :)
Reader and Lucy have been together for years but are still not out to the fans and so. Reader wants to have that openness. Lucy wants to be more private. So a heated discussion is formed between the too. Some angst ending in fluff
Who Are You // lucy bronze x reader
You and lucy had been dating for years now in secret. fans not knowing anything at all only spectating from the sidelines or when you both would hint a your relationship without people being able to connect the dots.
Well you were tried of always having to be private. you wanted to be able too have the closeness that other couples had when posting there significant other.
You wanted to post lucy and her doing the same.doing couple dumps being able to post each other's matching outfits, date days pictures, post about each other's your miles stones or instead want the public to know that you both were together if that was it.
Lucy on the other hand wanted to have things private which you respected at first. but thinking about it made you feel like she doesn't want people to know your together or she's ashamed of being with.
you decided to ignore those thoughts. and would try bringing up how you want to open your relationship to the public more. Letting them know you both are together. which you plan on doing this night as lucu would be taking you out to both's of your favorite restaurant.
The night arrived where you and Lucy arrived at the restaurant everything was going well she was always treating you like a goddess who's feet just landed on earth.
"You always teat me so well". you told her
"If I didn't who was gonna do it huh". She told you while rubbing your hands with hers.
"Your honestly the best".
"All because of you baby". She said.
It took you a while before getting anything out of your mouth which lucy noticed how tense you got during your conversations when she asked if you were okay.
"You okay baby your body feels tense". She told you.
"Yeah I just got something to tell you". You told her.
"What is it you can always tell me anything".
"Well I was thinking maybe we should be more open about our relationship to the public".you told her.
"What I thought you we're happy with our private life".
"I'm it just that it would be nice to let our fans know about us". You told her back.
"I know that what you want but I'm not just ready".
You were starting to get really irritated at licy right now cause it would always be the same excuse she wasn't ready or how would other's think of you both.
"Oh my god lucy I'm your fucking finance and it wouldn't hurt for you to let people know". You yelled at her ignoring the looks you were getting
"Baby please calm down we can talk about this somewhere more private". she told you
"Always fucking private with you never wanting to deal with things now if your ashamed of us just say so you don't need to be coming up with all these bullshit excuses". You told her
"Baby don't say that of course I'm proud of us".
"Don't call baby me cause if you we're actually proud you'd want people to know". With that you left the restaurant before lucy could say anymore.
You arrived at your shared apartment pissed off and decided to head too bed but instead you caught yourself looking at pictures of you and Lucy together that you would love to share but instead didn't.
You heard the front door open deciding not to deal with lucy you turned of your phone fake sleeping not wanting to deal with her. not realizing you fell asleep pretty quickly.
The next day came quickly you did your best ignoring lucy the whole even though you both lived together doesn't mean you couldn't.
lucy had enough with you ignoring her and decided to end whatever silent treatment you were giving her.
"Okay I get that your angry about yesterday and how it was handled but we can't do this if your here not communicating with me". she told you
"You made it pretty clear to understand yesterday that you're ashamed of us as a couple and I'm taking time to that".
"If you'll listen to me I'm not ashamed of us I just don't know what to expect you know how the public gets and I can't stand to see get hate from it".
"I know baby but you can't always stop what other people are gonna say at the end of the day it just gonna be just me and you".
"Yeah I'm sorry for the way I handled things last night".she told you
"Me too sorry for yelling and cursing you out".
"It okay I lowkey deserve it".she told you before pulling you into a kiss.
"Lucia".you whined
"How about we post those pictures you want huh". she told you.
"Really you better not be joking with me lucy bronze".
"Really anything for my favorite girl". she said
"You're the best". You told her before jumping to your phone and deciding on what pictures to use and how to caption it. all in a days work let's just say everything went semi successful.
yourusername&Lucybronze
8 years with you and more to come liked by alexiaputellas lj10 mariona80 leahwilliamson
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lj10 freaking finally 🙌
Leahwilliamson look at you both can't wait for the wedding
Alexiaputellas 💝
Woso.fan ik it amazing couple 👭
Bethmead we see you both
Alexgreenwood can't wait for wedding of the year 😍
lucyfan208 I thought she was with ona
#lucy bronze#lucy bronze imagine#lucy bronze x reader#lucy bronze fanfic#engwnt#engwnt x reader#engwnt imagine#barcelona femeni x reader#barcelona femeni imagine#fcb femení#fcbfemeni x reader#fcb femeni x reader#fc barcelona femeni#barcelona femeni#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso fic#woso fluff#woso angst#woso imagines#woso oneshot#woso one shot#woso#woso community#woso drama#barcelona women#pinkyqilfic
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HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS
...
and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺
HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3
simon riley betrays you pt. 2
simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist
☆ ☆ ☆
-miraculously, they let you go.
-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.
-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?
-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.
-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.
-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.
-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.
-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?
-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.
-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.
-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."
-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.
-"c'mon jus' let me-"
-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.
-oh, thank god.
-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.
-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.
-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."
-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.
-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?
-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"
-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?
-"no. never."
-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.
-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.
-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.
-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."
-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"
-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.
-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"
-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"
-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.
-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.
-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."
-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.
-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.
-"what?"
"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.
-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).
-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.
-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?
-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.
-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.
-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."
-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.
-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."
-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.
-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."
-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.
-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.
-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.
-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.
-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.
-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."
-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.
-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.
-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.
#call of duty imagine#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#cod imagine#cod mw x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#ghost imagine#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#ghost x you#cod angst#call of duty angst#simon riley angst#ghost angst#rarawrites
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Bachelors distracting you!
Stardew Valley Bachelors x reader
You need to get work done but they want your attention, and one way or another, they will get it :3
Not proofread, and not very cohesive between characters. Tried to keep it Canon. May or may not have succeeded.
Sam
"No, babe, a new season just started I have to get going on my crops!"
• Would definitely pout and try and hold your hand to prevent you from leaving the house
• As you got out your money and some leftover seeds from last year, he would (not so sneakily) get out his guitar
• He would then start playing a brand new song for you
• Like. Has been saving it for something, and it wasn't quite done, but he just had to get you to stay!
• Then when you tried asking him about it, he would say "no, I'm sorry, I have to work on this song more!"
• Basically mocking you from earlier saying you had to work haha
• This would successfully get you for like an hour, it makes him happy.
Alex
You were bustling around town, and he wanted you to talk to him, even if just for a bit!
• As soon as he saw you enter town he started lifting weights.
• And the more he saw you enter and leave buildings he started using heavier ones, trying to get you to think he is soooooo impressive.
• Eventually when you come to his house BUT DONT TALK TO HIM (how dare you/j) he does that jock boy thing where he wipes his sweat with his shirt
• A cocky bastard (affectionate) who just wants to see you flustered and pause for a second to admire him.
• Yeah. That definitely distracts you as you leave.
(God he is such a dude bro (affectionate-))
Sebastian
You were busy doing work around the farm, and he wanted attention but didn't want to outwardly bother your day.
• Ngl he would either work on his motorcycle purely because he knows you think it's hot, or he would play his synthesizer.
• Depends on how confident he is feeling that day, but he knows both of those need to be done eventually anyways!
• He rarely practices his synth, and knows it fascinates you.
• It's just so cool he knows how to play it!!
• If he works on his motorcycle, you just watch because you are trying to figure out what he is doing
• You want to be able to actually know what he is talking about when he tells you about it later!
• Either way, he knows he grabbed your attention for a little bit, and that's enough for him
• Definitely would not be up in your face about it tho, he is very low key about like. Everything-
Harvey
• Wouldn't try to distract you from your farming or anything
• Knows how important your job is
• Would however distract you from menial activities like reading or watching TV if you haven't given him enough attention that day
• Would start cooking
• Like something he knows you really like, but also smells so it would get your attention
• Also plays music. Like some early 2000s girly pop music. He loves that stuff but doesn't play it often because he thinks it's embarrassing he likes it (it isn't I love that shit)
• But yeah that grabs your attention from whatever you were doing
Shane
• Starts bringing the chickens outside of the coup!
• Knows you think they are cute
• And he knows you think he is cute when he is taking care of the animals
• Plus it's also practical for him to do animal stuff so you can farm
• But yeah he doesn't really want a lot of attention, just wants to see you smile for a bit!
Elliott
He just wanted to see your face stick around for a little longer! Didn't want you to go, even when he knew you had work to do.
• Would play his piano!
• Works like a charm because he always has something new
• You wonder when he has the time to practice new pieces all the time
• You sit next to him for a bit, leaning on his shoulder
• After he finishes the song, he let's you go back to whatever you were doing.
• He got in enough time with you for now, but he would make sure to get all of your attention later
An* I had like no ideas for Harvey and Shane. Sorry if they are kinda clunky- This was mostly inspired by my ideas for Sam and Alex, but this was fun to write!! Also, these lowkey make no sense, and they weren't proofread, so just take the concepts loosely and run with it! :)
Rasmodius, aka The Wizard (by request)
I imagine that this would be when you stopped by to visit him but had to leave to go work. Like y'all weren't living together.
• Would use magic!
• A silent spell that makes little illusions around the room.
• He is a little shy, so like Sebastian or Harvey, he wouldn't outright say anything.
• But he makes everything so pretty you can't help but stare for a while.
• The lights danced near the ceiling, a mirage of all your favorite colors
• He gets your attention for a while, and it keeps him content until he sees you again :3
Masterlist
#sdv#sam#shane#sebastian#stardew valley#sdv x reader#sebastian x reader#stardew valley x reader#harvey#elliott#alex#sdv alex#sdv elliott#sdv sebastian#sdv shane#sdv harvey#sdv sam#sdv x farmer#girl idk what im doing haha#sdv rasmodius#m. rasmodius#rasmodius x reader
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Day Four: Jisung
Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader
Warning: Just smut, you know.. smut [18+ MINORS DO NOT READ]
Wors Count: 1k
Day One: Felix | Day Two: Jeongin | Day Three: Changbin |
“Oh my fucking god, Y/N, I need some inspiration.” Han tells you over the phone. “I'm trying to work on this beat for a rap I want to do, but damn I'm having a hard time.”
“I know nothing about beats.” You start. “But I can bring you supper if you'd like.”
“Yes please. I have a feeling it's going to be a late one today.” He sighs.
With that, you hang up the phone and head over to his favorite restaurant, grabbing his favorite meal and then heading over to the JYP building.
“My savior.” Han sighs, seeing you walk in with just what he wanted.
“Any luck so far?” You ask, leaning against the mixing board.
“None.” He groans, looking over at you. He notices immediately how your skirt has ridden up your thigh, showing off more of your leg. He clears his throat, looking at the supper you brought him. You bend over, to scratch your leg, and he can't help but look back over at you just to see your slightly low cut shirt hanging down, your breasts showing.
Fuck. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He didn't even want to eat his food.
“Why aren't you eating?” You ask, looking at him, looking at you a certain way.
“Cause I'm not hungry for that anymore.” He says, slipping off his jacket. He moves the food to a different place, walking back to you.
“What are you hungry for then?” You wonder, watching him walk closer to you.
He looks at you, smirking. He grabs his chair, pushing it back and out of his way.
“You.” He says pulling you towards him. “I wanna eat your pussy.” He turns you around, bending you over the soundboard. His sudden aggression was so fucking hot. You're desperately waiting for what he was about to do. You can feel him lift up your skirt, yanking your panties down to pool them around your ankles. He takes his foot, kicking your own foot to spread your legs before he drops to his knees.
You're panting as you feel his breath so close to your pussy. You feel his head between your legs kissing your lips, gripping your inner thighs as he moves his tongue around.
“Holy shit.” You groan. In all the time the two of you had been fucking around, he had never eaten you out like this. He moves his tongue up, flicking your clit with the tip, making your knees buckle. He moves away from your clit, moving his tongue all along your folds, and to your hole, sticking his tongue in as far as he can.
“Jesus.. fuck.” You cry out, your hands trying to grip anything, anywhere on the board. You're panting loudly as he sloppily moves his entire mouth around your cunt. It was like nothing you'd ever experienced before.
He removes his mouth from you, it's cold. “Why?” You pant. “Why did you stop?” You whine.
“I want you to cum all over my face.” He says, latching his mouth back onto you. Who were you to say no?
“Just.. fucking like that.” You cry out. “Yes, yes.” You groan, your legs are shaking as his fingers dig deeper into your thighs. Your orgasm is coming on fast. He licks, and sucks you all over, you can't hold it in anymore.
“Fuck, I'm cumming.. shit I'm cumm…” You pause as it hits you, making you cry out loudly. “Oh my god.” You breathe.
You continue to lay on the soundboard, trying to catch your breath and you hear Han behind you, and the sound of him dragging the zipper of his jeans down. “Please fuck me.” You whine, already knowing full well that's what he was going to do. He leans over, laying his body on yours as his lips brush against your ear. “Make sure you're loud, baby.” He whispers before he rams his cock inside of you without warning.
“Ah, fuck!” You scream as he takes no time to ease himself into you. Instead he fucks you as hard as he can right off the bat. You're moaning so loud, you're sure the entire floor could hear you but right now you just don't care.
“That's right, scream for me. Fuck your cunt is so wet.” He spits. He moves his hand around your throat squeezing as he rams his cock into you at a quick pace. As he chokes you, his other hand grabs onto your ponytail, yanking it back, making you arch more into it, allowing him to shove his cock in deeper inside you.
“Please.. please can I cum?” You ask, his hand moves from your throat, grabbing onto your hip as he grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts.
“Cum all over my cock baby.” He groans. With that, your second orgasm hits so hard, pulsating through your body. He lets go of your hair, you fall forward back onto the board as he uses his other hand on your other hip, holding on tightly as he works desperately for his orgasm.
“Where..fuck.” He pauses as you squeeze your pussy around him. “where do I cum?” He grunts. “You keep doing that, I'm gonna cum inside you.”
“Do that.” You pant. “cum in my pussy, fill me up with your cum.”
“so fucking hot.” He groans, digging his finger tips deep into your hips as he cums, just as hard as you, shooting his load deep inside your pussy. You both remain still for a moment, until he pulls out of you, pulling his pants. He kneels down, pulling up your panties, noticing his cum seeping out from inside you.
“Leave it in there.” He smirks as he pulls up your panties. He helps you walk over to the couch, your legs feeling like jello. “the guys will be here in 5 minutes, and that's so fucking hot to think about.” He finishes, sitting down at the board that he just fucked you on. He pushes a few buttons and the sounds of your moans play over the speakers. He grins as he turns back to look at you.
“That's the inspiration I needed.” He smiles, just as four men walked into the studio.
“What's that smell I'm smelling?” Chan asks, looking between you two. You hide your face, not knowing what to say.
“That's the smell of success, man.” Han grins.
#han jisung smut#han smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids#skz#stray kids han#skz han#stray kids writing#skz writing#stray kids fanfic#skz fanfic#kpop smut#kpop fanfic
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Do the Thing | Toilet Repair
logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.
series history; Previous Chapter
portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)
possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.
pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).
you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.
“I think my name is just Tony now.”
You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.
“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”
This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.
Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.
You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”
She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”
“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”
“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”
“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”
“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”
“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”
She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”
“Good things?”
“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”
You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”
“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”
“The connection?”
“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”
“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”
She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”
Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”
“Ah. N’ then…”
“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”
She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”
“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”
“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”
You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.
“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”
You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”
She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.
Off to fix an exploded toilet.
“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”
Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.
“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.
“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”
“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”
You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”
“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”
“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”
He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”
“Not a Chef!”
“Term of Respect, Chef!”
You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.
You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.
Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.
“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.
“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”
Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”
“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”
“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”
You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”
“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”
That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”
His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...
She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”
You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”
“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.
“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?
You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”
“Did they?”
Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”
You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.
“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.
She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”
This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.
It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.
But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.
On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”
They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”
He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”
“Really gonna practice your set on me?”
He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”
You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”
“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.
When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.
“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.
“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”
He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”
“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.
You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.
“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”
The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.
He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”
“I’m doing okay, yeah.”
Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.
You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”
He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”
Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.
He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.
“What the fuck?”
Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.
“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.
“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”
“In The Beef!”
“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”
He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”
He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.
“Well?” You start.
“Well?” He astutely adds.
You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”
“The thing?”
You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.
“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”
“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”
You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.
Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.
“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”
He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.
He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”
“What?”
“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”
“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.
He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.
He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”
“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.
“Huh?”
You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”
You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.
You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”
You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…
“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.
“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”
“Should get Fak on that, then.”
“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”
You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”
“If you’ll take it.”
“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”
“How’s that going?”
You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”
“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.
“How’s the second day open going?”
“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”
You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”
“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”
“You don’t seem happy about that.”
“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”
Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—
The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”
There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.
The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.
“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”
“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”
He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”
You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.
Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.
You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”
Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.
Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.
Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.
After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”
She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.
It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…
“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.
I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”
“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”
Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”
She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”
“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.
“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.
“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”
You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”
You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”
“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.
Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.
You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”
“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”
He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”
He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”
“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”
He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”
“Well?”
“Do the thing.”
You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”
“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.
“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”
He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”
Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.
“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.
He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”
You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”
He squints. “…How’re you—”
“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.
“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”
With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.
“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”
He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.
“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”
He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.
“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.
“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”
You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”
He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”
“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”
“Heard.”
You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”
He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”
“It is.”
“Oh.”
“But in a way you can fix.”
“How?”
“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”
“You can’t take yourself?”
“Bitch?”
“Kidding. Heard. What else?”
“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.
He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”
“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”
“The chaos menu? She said—”
“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”
He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”
“You’re reactive.”
“No shit.”
“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”
He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”
“It had been 23 minutes.”
“Oh.”
“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”
“…No.”
“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”
He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.
“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”
He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”
“I will not.”
“You just said I was a catastrophe.”
“Fully not what I said.”
“I read between the lines.”
“Carmen.”
You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”
He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”
“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.
“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.
You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”
He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”
“First restaurant too?”
He nods again.
“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”
There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.
“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”
“You’ll do better next time.”
He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”
“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”
“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.
“At what? Self-help?”
He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”
You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.
You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.
…
When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.
“Fucking Mikey!”
“What’d he do this time?”
You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”
She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”
“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”
“Oh.”
“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”
“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”
“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”
“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”
“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”
She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”
“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.
“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.
“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”
She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”
All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.
“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”
Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.
“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”
You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”
“Does it?”
“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.
She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”
Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?
“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”
You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.
“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”
You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.
“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”
You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”
You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”
“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”
“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.
“But?”
“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”
She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”
“It’s done. I’ll be there.”
“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”
Fuck.
Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.
Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!
Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!
Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!
Next Part
#carmen berzatto imagine#carmy berzatto#carmy x reader#carmen x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto#the bear fx#carmy the bear#the bear x you#the bear#the bear x reader#the bear fanfiction
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| change the prophecy
| criminal minds
| emily prentiss x reader
| hurt / comfort
| 1634
| A/N - there are a few trigger warnings for this fic, including abortion talk, vomit, death, (basically the after effects of demonology, and when she was pregnant at 15), there is a scene where I talk about blaming someone’s death on someone else so please if you know that it will trigger you, don’t read it, otherwise I kind of tried something new with my writing style so please let me know what you think
You woke up around 2:30am to the sound of shuffling, you knew Emily and you knew that it would be her.
You heard her shrug off her coat and throw her keys into the bowl, you heard her hang her coat up and the sound of her heels as she kicked them off as she made her way into the kitchen to grab herself a glass of wine
You also heard her sigh to herself as she sat down on the couch
"Baby?" your voice both startled and calmed her, not expecting you to be behind her, but a gratefulness that you were.
"Oh my God Y/N I'm so sorry, did I wake you?" she quickly placed the glass down and made her way over to you.
"No no, I was up anyway" you spoke before you thought, making it so it sounded like you waited up for her all this time.
You both knew it was a lie, you were always in bed at 10, 11 would be pushing it, you definitely were not going to be awake at, now, 2:45am
Emily nodded, she knew you weren't telling the truth but she also knew that this lie was harmless.
"Emily I'm-"
"I'm coming to bed, baby, you go up and I'll be right there" Emily finished your sentence, already knowing what you were about to say.
Emily smiled as she made her way over to you, kissing your head and then your lips "sure" you smiled looking up at her with every single love and admiration a person could speak with their eyes.
3:08 was when Emily finally walked through your bedroom door "bad case?" you whispered so quietly that you hoped she didn't hear you.
"No not a case" she sighed as she slotted herself into bed with you.
"Oh" your eyebrow perked up "do you want to talk about it?" you lay there, now face to face with Emily, you both leaning with an elbow propped up, you stuck out your hand to swipe some hair behind her eyes.
"It's about Matthew"
You remembered when Emily confided in you, almost 2 years ago, you remembered how Matthew and how he encouraged her to go to an abortion clinic when she was 15 and pregnant and scared.
"What about him sweetheart?" you whispered gently.
She waited a few minutes, she pulled you closer to her by curling her hand around your waist and pushing you towards her, she rested her forehead against yours before she finally spoke again.
"He's dead, he died and I couldn't save him" that's what broke her, sobs finally broke free, she had been keeping those in from the minute she found out about his death, from when she had to go and talk to Matthew's parents and when she sat in her office for hours and hours and hours.
She sat there, for almost 4 hours; cold, scared, and alone, mirroring exactly how she felt 17 years ago, but only this time, she didn't have Matthew Benton by her side, she had you.
You pulled her in close, your chin on her head as she sobbed into your chest, you kissed her head many times as you rubbed her back all whilst whispering sweet nothings to her gently
"Emily?" you whispered, looking down at her, Emily didn't answer, instead her grip tightened as she looked up at you "hey hey it's okay, its okay, you're okay" you affirmed, Emily nodded and mouthed the same words back, you kissed her head once more "I just want you to promise me something, do you think you could do that?" you spoke softly.
"Hmm?" Emily both partially agreed whilst simultaneously wondering what you were about to say
"Promise me that if you ever need to talk to me tonight, you'll wake me up, or, or, if you have a nightmare or anything" tears fell from your face as you looked down to see Emily, she had been crying for hours and hours, she was tired and you could tell
"Yeah" she bit her lip and looked up at you, an attempt at a smile was made but faltered nonetheless "yeah I can do that?" she breathed out as she tucked her head into your chest again
Soon enough, Emily's breathing slowed down, she was exhausted and she tired herself out and she fell asleep in your arms, you kissed her head once more and you told her that you loved her and that she was the strongest person you had ever met, a slight smirk appeared on her lips to signify that she heard you which made you smile.
You watched her sleep for a few minutes before deciding do to the same, you shuffled down and kissed her shoulder as you slung your arm around her waist.
You woke up the next morning on your back with Emily's arm around your waist tightly, you screwed your eyes together as you hadn't yet adjusted to the morning sun, carefully you turned over to see a bright red "6:52" looking back at you, making you groan slightly, it was like it knew it was your day off
You kissed Emily's head once more before you went back to sleep.
You woke up a few hours later to the sound of thrashing next to you, you quickly sat up in bed to find Emily crying, with a layer of sweat down her forehead, as fast as you could you quickly sprinted to the kitchen to get her a glass of water, you ran back down the hallway into your bedroom to find Emily in the same position only now muttering to herself "I need to save him" your lip quivered as you made your way over to her, you knew how to handle Emily's nightmares, considering you had been her best friend for 5 years and together for 3.
"Emily, Emily honey, you're having a nightmare" you shook her lightly "Emily" your voice now filled with concern as she wasn't bulging "Emily" you accidentally shouted louder than you expected to.
With a huge gasp of air, Emily flung herself forward and heaved heavily, you knew what was coming so you quickly went to your bathroom to grab a bin for her to throw up in, you rubbed her back as she did so and held her hand all the way through it.
"Here" you picked up the water and slowly placed it in front of her lips "drink this" you prompted, you cleaned everything up and went back to bed, you sat up on the bed, purposely sitting behind Emily, you adjusted yourself to sit behind her as you pulled her up in between your legs, she kept quietly drinking the water, you kissed her shoulder again before leaning into her nightstand to retrieve a brush out of there, you asked silently for permission as you raised one eyebrow along with the hairbrush, she nodded and started sipping some more water.
You started brushing and playing with her hair, Emily would never admit it, but she absolutely loves people playing with and brushing her hair, she just shrugged it off as she never had an older sister or an older relative in her life that would take care of her the way you did; gently, warmly, and fully.
"I had a nightmare about Matthew" she sighed, a few minutes later.
"Okay" you gently prompted again "are you ready to talk about it?" she shook her head harshly "okay that's okay" your voice laced with a compassionate tone "well whenever you're ready to talk about Matthew or about anything, I'm always here" you repeated once more, you didn't have to tell Emily if she knew that because she always did.
"Matthew's parents" she placed her glass on the nightstand as she held back a sob and tried to console herself at the thought "they uh, blamed his death on me" she started to pick around her fingernails
"What!?" panic in your voice, almost in awe at how someone could do something as terrible as that.
"I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry" Emily quickly retaliated.
"Hey, hey, no why are you sorry?" you asked as calm as you could.
"Because you believe them right? because you believe that I killed Matthew because I didn't get there in time!?" Emily raised her voice slightly, but you knew she wasn't angry at you.
"Can you turn around and look at me" you sighed, hesitantly Emily turned around to you, her head on your stomach as she lay in between your legs again "I would never, never think that" you sighed as you reached down to cup her cheek before repeating what you just spoke "I know you got there as quickly as you could, you didn't do anything wrong" you smiled gently.
"They still blame me for the abortion" Emily played nervously with the strings of your pajama shorts.
"Honey, you were 15, you were 15 and pregnant, it's okay to have been scared, you did the best thing for you and the baby" you sighed gently, your hand caressing her cheek.
"Thank you" she gripped your hand, absentmindedly swirling her finger around it creating different patterns, something she did when she was either nervous, scared, or sad "come here" you pulled her back up and hugged her as tight as you could "I'm glad you're here, I love you so much, please don't ever forget that" you stapled a kiss to her forehead once more before she fell asleep, you rubbed her back and played with her hair, whispering how much you loved her and listening everything you loved about her.
#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#emily prentiss#emily prentiss x reader#emily prentiss x you#paget brewster#criminal minds x you#emily x reader#emily x you
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40? for the prompt
#40. "am i your husband or your taxi service?"
the first time it happens, mickey doesn't think much of it.
can you pick me up after my shift? too tired to take the L
when mickey is near the station, he parks the van a block away. force of habit from when he and his brothers used to sneak up and collect from people who owed terry money. plus, he doesn't particularly want ian's coworkers to see their stolen ambulance, even though it's completely unrecognizable after debbie helped them revamp the entire thing and paint over it with the logo sandy designed.
here
i don't see you
i'm parked a block away
pick me up at the station
your legs don't work?
i'm tired :(
i drove the van
it's fine no one will be able to tell lol
mickey rolls his eyes and drops his phone in the cupholder. as he pulls up across the street from the station, he sees ian standing on the curb, chatting with someone wearing a matching EMT uniform, a shorter man with tan skin and curly hair.
mickey honks once, a bit impatient since he's hungry as fuck and there's a large pizza he ordered earlier waiting for them at their apartment. ian lifts his head and smiles. as he waves goodbye to his coworker and jogs over to the van, mickey doesn't miss the way the dude is gaping at mickey with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.
the hell is this guy's problem?
"everything okay?" mickey asks, once ian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his seat.
"just tired." ian yawns. "had a long shift today."
"well," mickey puts the van in drive, reaching over the center console to ruffle ian's hair, promptly forgetting ian's weird coworker, "i already ordered a pizza so we can eat then turn in early."
ian smiles sleepily and interlaces his fingers with mickey's. "you're the best husband ever."
mickey shakes his head, biting back a smile. "sappy fucker."
*
after almost two weeks of ian asking to be picked up, mickey suspects something is up. not that he minds or anything, since he makes his own schedule nowadays. after the security business started turning a profit and ian went back to being an emt, he hired a couple of guys to drive the routes so he could work from home and catch up on admin work, freeing up a lot of time in his day to day.
but ian never used to mind the commute. he's the kind of long-legged freak who liked to take the scenic route and go on long runs in the morning, just for fun. absolutely deranged behaviour, in mickey's opinion. but lately, ian has been flashing his kicked-puppy eyes and asking to be chauffeured like a pampered prince and, well. mickey could never resist spending more time with his husband, so he hasn't said anything. not yet, anyway. god he's so whipped.
the excuses ian came up with, however, were more unbelievable as it went on, ranging from the train broke down (mickey knew for a fact it didn't), to spraining his elbow (though he had no problem throwing mickey on the bed later that night with his supposedly injured arm), to how it was going to rain later (it was sunny all day without a cloud in sight).
when mickey tried to call him out on his bullshit, ian either got down on his knees or flipped mickey over and fucked him senseless into the bed, promptly making mickey forget what the hell he was trying to say.
it's gotten to the point where ian stopped making excuses and simply asked mickey to come get him. which truthfully, mickey doesn't mind at all. but he just finds it odd how his beefy athletic husband had gotten so lazy.
"what's with you?" mickey finally asks one day, as ian climbs into the passenger seat.
ian blinks innocently. "what do you mean, dear husband of mine?"
mickey rolls his eyes. "am i your husband or your fuckin' taxi driver? 'cause i've been picking your ass up every day for the past two weeks when you have two perfectly functioning legs."
ian huffs, crossing his arms. "maybe i just want to spend more time with you."
"we live together," mickey points out flatly, "how much more time do you need?"
"i–"
a tap on the glass interrupts them, and mickey turns to see a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, enthusiastically gesturing at him to roll down the window.
"the fuck?" mickey turns to ian, whose face has turned slightly pink. "did you forget something at the station?"
"ah, no." ian scratches his head sheepishly. "sue is just being... sue."
sue waves her hand again and mickey reluctantly lowers the window.
"mickey, this is sue, my supervisor, and sue, this is–"
"the elusive husband." sue grins. "i've heard a lot about you, mickey."
mickey raises his brow. "have you now."
"oh sure," she says, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "ian won't shut up about you, yapping on and on about mickey this and mickey that. we're all jealous at the station actually, everyone just complains about their partners while ian keeps gushing about how perfect and amazing his husband is. his words."
"huh." that explains a lot, actually, why there was always someone different waiting with ian every time he came to pick him up, and why they all stared at him like a circus freak. "well, i bet ian didn't tell you the time we stole an ambu–"
"okay," ian cuts in loudly, reaching over to turn the key in the ignition, "we're leaving. i'll see you tomorrow, sue."
"come to the company picnic next month," sue calls out. "it's a potluck and everyone is bringing their family. it'll be fun!"
"uh sure," mickey says, even though a social gathering with ian's nosy coworkers sounds like the least fun thing he's ever heard of. he looks over at ian, slumped in his seat, avoiding mickey's eyes. "I'll check my schedule."
once mickey drives around the corner, he playfully flicks his finger at ian's temple and ian rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
"you yap about me to your coworkers," mickey teases. "you're so fuckin' whipped."
"whatever," ian grumbles. "stupid sue calling me out."
"is that why you keep asking me to pick you up?" mickey asks, amused. "to parade me around like a little show dog?"
"well, eduardo blabbed to everyone he saw you, then everyone kept asking about you and wanted to see you in person, so..."
"hm." mickey reaches over and brushes his thumb over ian's palm. "what do you say about me?"
ian links their fingers together and sighs. "that you're attentive. funny. caring. protective. loyal. the ideal man."
mickey laughs. "you're really overselling me here, gallagher. did you forget i'm an ex-convict, pimp and drug dealer?"
ian waves him off and continues. "kind. loving. perfect in every single way, except when you leave your socks on the floor. oh and that you're hot as hell with an ass that won't quit."
"you talked about my ass?"
"okay, i didn't say the last part," ian amends, "your ass belongs to just me. but i meant everything else i said."
"you really are a sappy fucker."
"you love it."
"i'd love it even more if i didn't have to be your chauffeur every day, at least they get paid to drive back and forth."
"you come with me to the picnic, i'll pay you with favours in bed. i'll even throw in a big tip."
"a big tip, huh..."
#here's a fluffy fic for you anon 😌✨#gallavich ficlet#ian x mickey#michy ficlet#gallavich fic#my words#gallavich
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Title: ghost in the shell
Fandom: none applicable
Characters: ghost oc
Fic type: story
Pairings: ghost x male reader
Warnings: male reader, reader insert, OC insert, angst, ghost original character, no name for OC
Notes: :)
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
(Name) Remembered everything.
Did you know he died 1,485 times? He did.
Though he always stood back up and coughed out a bullet or puked out poison, it was hard to kill death after all and everytime he got to do his favourite party trick of truly striking the fear of death into someone's soul.
Or killing them.
But hey, they killed him first.
"The god of death, doing puzzles" a voice chuckled beside him and (name) turned to his spectral boyfriend who floated beside him casually "says the person who did puzzles with me when they walked this planet" (name) said simply as he put another piece in, this was their norm. (Name) Enjoyed his ' retirement ' until he got bored in 100 year or two weeks, it depended on his mood.
"You really abuse those reapers" the ghost teased and (name) snorted "they have benefits and one month vacation not to mention Excellent pay" (name) knew how hard the job of a reaper could be and he made sure his employees were compensated as such, living so long he had a pretty diamond nesting egg.
The two went about their day like this, cooking and cleaning and going about life.
(Name)s spectral loved was his everything, his reason to keep going... He loved him more than anything.
"I wonder when I'll go to the bright place..." Words that always broke (name) with guilt...
Because he was the reason he stayed.
(Name) Had the ability to keep someone bound to the mortal realm with him and he chose the love of his life, it was selfish and monsterous of him.
"One day... My moon" (name) said softly as they finished the puzzle, the sound of the television playing as the ghost watched his dramas.
Guilt always ate at him, it was cruel and unfair to bind him to this realm when he had people waiting for him...
It was late as the ghost slept on the couch, be didn't need too but it passed the time, (name) crouched before him "I'm sorry my love..." He whispered before kissing him sweetly and watching him open his eyes confused as his body glowed "babe-- what's going on?!" He asked worried and (name) smiled at him "it's time baby..."
"B-but I won't have you! I don't want to be there without you!"
"I'll be there soon enough... Just keep the bed warm for me"
"No! This isn't fair I don't want to be without you!" He sobbed as he reached to (name) as his body lifted up and their fingers connected "I love you" (name) whispered and the last thing he heard was "don't leave me alone"
But (name) was the one who was alone.
He was always alone.
Because he decided he could no longer be selfish.
#male reader#x male reader#oc x male reader#oc x reader#ghost x reader#ghost x male reader#ghost oc x reader#ghost oc x male reader#angst#fanfiction
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Can you do a step dad/current! James Hetfield smut??its fine if you can't I completely understand!!(srry if its so short I was in a rush!!)
this is actually so good and I had so much fun writing!!
❕ FEMALE CHARACTER IS 18+ ❕
WARNINGS: use of “daddy”, use of “princess”, stepdad x daughter, Reader is 18+, oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex, creampie
My breaths came out quick and hoarse, my fingers disappearing inside of me over and over.
I was so turned on by my new stepdad, but I couldn't do anything about it since he had just moved in a few months ago.
He was in his fifties or sixties and looked hot as hell with his broad shoulders and muscles. He had this sexy silver-grey hair that made him look more attractive than ever.
He was also very tall, almost towering over me. I kinda avoided him so he wouldn't sense how horny I'd get in his presence.
I continued to work at myself, imagining his cock inside me instead. I whimpered out. "J-James!"
I was home alone so It didn't matter.
I wanted to feel him inside me so bad. I didn't care if he was with mom, I wanted him to hold me down and fuck me as hard as he could.
Being alone, I didn't try to filter my vulgar noises; letting them spill out into the quiet room. "Daddy! Daddy, just like that!" I whined.
I rubbed my clit fiercely, just picturing his face.
"Daddy, I'm gonna cum!" I shook.
But before I could feel that sweet release, the sound of someone clearing their throat echoed from my doorway.
I gasped, and tugged my blanket up to cover me, my eyes darting to the doorway where the tall man stood.
Leaning agaisnt my door frame, a grin plastered over his face, was James, my fucking stepdad.
"Oh my god," I stuttered, my cheeks heating. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in." I tried to act cool even though I knew I wasn't.
He took a step forward. "You were really enjoying yourself there." My blush deepened as I stared at the ground.
I didn't respond I was far too mortified. James sat up and stepped into the room.
"Look at me," he said softly. I met his gaze. His eyes glittered with mischief and desire.
"I'm not going to judge you, sweetheart. I see it all the time when I look at you. You are always so hot and bothered around me."
Hidden by the blanket, I couldn't help but apply a small bit of pressure to my clit. "I could hear you saying my name.." James whispered.
"How often to you masturbate to me, honey?" He continued, ghosting his fingers under my chin.
"E-Every single night," I admitted.
“That makes me so happy, sweetheart. Are you gonna quit playing games with me? Tell me what you want." He stated calmly, lifting the corner of the blanket to uncover my wet panties that cling to my body.
"Y-you.. James." I whined as his fingers brushed last the damp fabric.
"Don't call me that honey," he said under his breath, staring me down as his fingers toyed with me.
He shoved the blanket aside, kneeling in bed ahead of me, looking down at me. "Speak up, baby."
"If you don't say what I know you want to, then maybe I should just leave.." he taunted, setting his hands on my knees.
"Daddy, please!" I whined.
He grinned as I gave him what he wanted, his hands spreading my legs apart. I was terrified to do something like this with my stepdad, but It was all I wanted
I needed it. And I trusted him enough to let him have his way with me. A strong hand gripped me by the thigh, bringing me closer to the edge.
"I think about touching this pretty pussy all the time, Princess." He hummed.
The air grew thick between us as he leaned in closer. My chest heaving with rapid breaths, I nodded. "Yes, Daddy. Please!" I moaned. My eyes widened in surprise when he grabbed my ankle and dragged me toward him.
He grabbed my panties tugging them down my legs and illiciting a breathy gasp from me.
"You are so beautiful," he praised. "Thank you, Daddy," I whispered. "I have never seen anyone look as sexy as you do right now."
He said, his voice husky. "Your pussy is glistening. So perfect, just like I thought." He rubbed his thumb against my clit, making me cry out.
"Hmm. Maybe I should start here," he murmured, kissing my inner thigh.
"Is that okay?" He asked. I bit my lip, nodding.
"Whatever you want, Daddy." I breathed. His fingers skimmed over my legs, dipping into the valley of my hips. "Such a good girl for your daddy."
He cooed, kissing my lower stomach before licking his way down until his tongue was lapping up every drop of my juices. "Mmm..." He groaned.
"You taste delicious, little princess. "
He paused. Lifting his head, his Light blue eyes fixed on mine. The look on his face told me he meant every word.
This was one of the hottest things I'd ever witnessed. I loved it.
“Keep going, Angel. Your daddy wants you to cum so hard you can't walk tomorrow." My eyes rolled back as I came undone.
His tongue was ruthless. I felt him swallow every ounce of my orgasm down. I cried out as my body tightened, he licked me clean. I lay there, spent, my heart thumping wildly against my chest.
"Now it's your turn missy.." he leaned upright and towards me. "I want you to suck me off," he growled in my ear.
I could hardly wrap my head around the fact that my stepdad wanted me to suck his dick. I loved it.
James switched places with me, tugging off his shirt.
I admired his stalkish build, and the slightly faded tattoos that lay beneath the thin layer of silver hairs on his chest.
"Don't be shy, honey," he cooed, helping me undo his jeans and tug them down.
He kicked off his jeans, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. I could easily see the huge bulge that strained beneath the fabric. Fuck.
"Take 'em off baby, you're a big girl," he taunted, nudging his hips just slightly.
With a gulp, I reached for the waistband of his underwear, slowly tugging them down.
The moment they passed his ankles, I gasped. God, he was massive. He watched me, chuckling under his breath.
"What did I tell you, baby?" he asked with a smirk. I stared at his cock, licking my lips. I had never seen anything quite like it. My stepdad was seriously well endowed.
It looked so smooth and soft, the head swollen.
James eyed me as he gripped the base, waiting for me to put my mouth to use.
"Suck it, babe. Show me you mean it." I moved to straddle him, taking his cock into my hand. It was a bit thicker than I thought it would be, and it was longer too.
I had known he was hung, but seeing it first hand was crazy. There was so much of it to grasp onto. I hesitated before putting it in my mouth. No turning back now.
Gripping it firmly, I slid the length of it into my mouth. Fuck, it tasted so good. I got lost in the flavor. The vein running along the side of it was silky, yet rough. The tip was sensitive and made me salivate.
Leaning forward, I swallowed his length and let my tongue lick over the sensitive tip. "Fuck, princess," he grunted. "You're such a good girl." He murmured, petting my hair. A shiver ran through me at his words. "Such a dirty girl, sucking your stepdads cock."
He moaned. I bobbed up and down, loving how it felt in my mouth. I was able to fit a lot of it in. "So good," he breathed. The feel of him in my mouth caused me to get wetter. My clit throbbed, demanding attention.
If I had been standing, I would have fallen. I sucked harder, moving my head faster. I loved how my stepdad was using his free hand to play with my breasts, tweaking my nipples.
They were so sensitive. "Just like that, babe," he encouraged. I looked up, locking eyes with him.
His eyes were closed as he rocked into my mouth, driving deeper.
Ohhh, my god. I loved everything about it. How he felt in my mouth, the taste of him. James was truly the best. He was good at everything. In my eyes, there was nothing better.
"That's it princess, bouta make me cum..." he groaned.
I bobbed my head faster, letting my saliva drip down his length each time. James gripped the back of my head, shoving me down further as I gagged.
I didn't Protest this though, I wanted to do anything to make him cum.
"Right there, right there, fuck..." James panted, still forcing me down, I could feel him swelling in my mouth.
I moaned around his cock, holding it tightly in my throat. "That's it, baby," he grunted. "Swallow my cum, Princess." I could feel his balls tighten. He was close.
His hands were in my hair again, pulling me up. I kept his cock deep in my throat, milking him. His body shook. "Fuuuuck!" He shouted. He filled my mouth. He came so much. So much I started to gag, choking on his cum.
"Good girl, good girl, you're such a good girl," he babbled, petting my hair, stroking me until I stopped coughing. I milked him until he finished emptying himself down my throat.
"Daddy.." I whispered, my throat finally free as he pulled his dick out.
"I can see that look in your eye, baby. You want me to be inside you, honey?" He cooed, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
"Please, please daddy.." I begged, crawling into his lap.
"So eager, aren't you princess?" He smiled, giving his cock a few pumps.
I grabbed his face, locking my lips with his for the first time. It was an odd concept; kissing my stepdad, but it felt right. And so good.
He kissed me right back, tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
I groaned, opening wider to allow him access. My stepdad was so hot. I couldn't imagine being without him. I just wanted to be with him forever.
James broke the kiss, looking me in the eyes.
"How bad do you want daddy to fuck you?" He hissed soflty, my body suddenly filled with the sensation of him running the tip through my folds.
My breath caught in my throat. "Bad," I moaned.
"Very bad." He chuckled. "You better not scream too loud, princess. I don't want anyone to hear you."
I rocked my hips on the pressure of his cock. I was a little worried that he wouldn't fit inside me, I'd only had sex once or twice. Him on the other hand was extremely experienced, not to mention huge.
I didn't want to embarrass myself by not being able to take him. But I couldn't go any longer without feeling him inside me. I needed him. Desperately.
"Daddy, please.." I whimpered, my neck twitching.
He ran his hand up and down my spine, then trailed it down my ass, pushing my legs farther open. "Hmm, what's that baby?" He purred, sliding the tip inside me.
I squirmed at the sudden penetration, gripping his shoulders as I whined loudly. James' hands gripped my hips gently, holding me in place.
"Tell me what you want, baby," he urged. "I need to hear the words, princess. Don't make me stop." I looked up at him, meeting his stare.
"I want you, Daddy. I need you. Please."
I whimpered, wiggling my hips against his. He chuckled lowly. "Lord knows, I need you too, little one. I've wanted you for so long." He grinned as he slid his cock inside me in one powerful thrust.
The pain was intense, and I clawed at his shoulders. "Shh, baby. Just breathe. Feel your daddy inside you. Relax." He repeated as he held me still.
I was right, it stretched me a lot, but it was also the best feeling in the world.
James bounced me on his cock, thrusting up alongside. "Fuck! Daddy!" I cried out.
"Right there honey….. god, I think you're the tightest I've fucked." he groaned.
"Mmmm, that's right baby, ride that dick, just like that. Fuck, your wetness is driving me wild." He hissed, still pumping into me.
“Ooh, that's right... daddy, harder, fuck me harder, daddy." I bucked my hips.
He squeezed my thighs with large tattooed hands, gripping me tighter, ramming me into the mattress. I could barely keep up with him. I rode him until I couldn't anymore.
"Such a good girl," he growled as I collapsed, hardly having enough energy to keep riding him.
"Just relax while daddy fucks you."
He ordered. Ilaid my head on his chest, breathing heavily. I wasn't sure I could handle more. He held me up, still inside me, cradling me in his arms as he rammed into me.
"Yes, Daddy, yes, that's it..." I whined, my body getting used to him, and I became more flexible.
"Oooh, yes! Yes, yes!" I cried out. James's pace picked up.
I arched my back, causing him to push harder into me. I was soon screaming out his name, throwing my head back. "James!" I cried out, holding on for dear life as I was transported to another plane of existence.
He continued to thrust into me. I was so full, I thought I would burst. "Daddy, daddy, I'm going to cum again." I squealed.
“Cum all over daddy's cock, princess. Let it happen." He encouraged.
I cried out his name as my walls pulsated around him. "Ohhh, daddy!" I gasped. "Ohhh, fuck, I'm cumming too." James slammed into me, jerking his hips as he shot rope after rope of seed into me.
"That's it baby, cum on my cock. That's it." He growled. He continued to hold me, both of us breathing heavily. When he started to soften, we both dropped onto the bed, both of us exhausted.
I couldn't believe my own stepdad had just cum inside me. I loved it.
"You're gonna make me addicted to you, Princess." He murmured, rubbing up my back.
#metal#reqs open#metallica#request#smut#thrash metal#smutshot#james hetfield#james hetfield x reader#metallica x reader#james hetfield headcannons#james hetfield x you#james hetfield x oc#james hetfield fluff#james hetfield fic#james hetfield smut#james hetfield fanfiction#James hetfield imagines#metallica headcanons#metallica fluff#metallica smut#metallica fanfiction#heavy metal#metallica imagines#fanfic#fanfiction#oneshot#mustainegf
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A special little break time!
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Barbatos just can't seem to relax and take a break, fine. You'll have to do it in your own way. (AFAB x dom barbatos)
NSFW! minors scroll down ⊹
nsfw, blow job, tears, creampie 𖹭
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reblogs, likes are appreciated! If you see any grammar mistakes, feel free to tell me <3
You receive a message from the young Lord asking you a favor to help him convince Barbatos to get a break. He can't think of anyone else but you.
"I'm not exactly sure why Barbatos always follows your command, it is like your superpower! you can tell him to touch a rat and he will gladly do it" said Diavalo while giggling.
No really, it's so hard to convince him to take a break. Even when the young Lord himself told him to. His excuses are always "This is my duty" or "I'm your Butler". And technically you agreed to help Diavalo.
firstly, you open your phone and text Barbatos to meet you at the cafe.
"Is this something important? If not, I will not come." Barbatos replied to your text. But no, you won't give up that easily. You are determined that you can do it! so this time, you call him.
"Let's do something fun Barbatos! aren't you tired of working?"
"I'm honored that you asked me, but no. I am not tired since this is my duty to keep an eye on the young master."
ugh. why isn't he agreeing to go out with you? how dare he say no to you. He rarely says that!
"Fine! I'll come over there then. wait for me Barbatos!" although he declines any offer, you are still determined to get him to take a break.
you are now inside of the castle, trying to find Barbatos but since it's so big, you almost got lost! even though you have been visiting the castle almost every week, you still managed to get confused about the layout of the castle. It's pretty huge after all. Searching for him makes you exhausted and really thirsty. walking around that castle is like an exercise for you. So you head over to the kitchen to get something to drink, and that's when you find Barbatos. Washing the dishes.
"Barbatos! I'm so glad I found you" smiling when you finally found him.
"Why hello there Mc, you seem to be panting a lot. Are you okay?" Looking back at you while finishing up his duty.
"yeah I'm fine dont worry." you replied while grabbing yourself a drink. Not long after that, you head over to the counter where Barbatos is drying his hands off, Again.. Trying to get him off work but he simply declined. No matter what you do or what you say he just won't.
"pleaseeee..?? pretty please? I'll do anything for you to get off from work!" You said to him while holding his hands with a pout.
God, You look so fucking adorable and he can't resist you. He tried to not look down at you because you were wearing a tight-fit dress and he didn't want to get a boner while working. But he can't. Looking down at you with that face makes him want to just fuck you. I mean.. it's your plan after all. You know he can't resist you with that dress and that is why you wear it.
You took advantage of it, tip-toeing over for a light kiss, teasing him. Your lips were as soft as a cloud and he needed more. He holds your waist to let you know that he doesn't want your pretty, soft lips to leave. A soft moan slipped out of your mouth as a response. His kisses slowly go down, from your lips, chin, and then your neck. He was so gentle and soft.. Gosh, you started to feel hot, and.. he was hard too. You felt his pants hardened, it's like he's asking you to unzip his pants and just.. suck it all.
"Well, I maybe perhaps need a little break don't I? Could you take care of me darling?" looking seductively at you, he asked you to help him and you knew exactly what to do, you are a good girl after all.
"Don't worry, I'll help you." you look at him innocently but you know deep down, your intention is not as innocent as your eyes.
On your knees, you started to unzip his pants. His dick was so excited that it just bounce right out, twitching as if he was so impatient, waiting for your next move. He was in fact, impatient. He needs your pretty little mouth to suck him deep. but.. why are you not doing it? Being impatient, He grabbed your head and pushed you so deep into him. Eyes widened, you didn't expect him to make the first move. You were gasping for air.
"b-barbatos.. calm down!" you choked on his dick, taking his dick out of your mouth.
"take it back, I didn't allow you to take it out."
after calming yourself down, you started to suck his dick again. It's so big that you can feel it hitting the back of your throat. Moaning when it did. Looking at him with pathetic eyes while sucking his dick off, it's like you're asking for his approval. Are you good enough? or are you not? He didn't say anything so you thought he was not satisfied. So you position your hands on his hips, sucking him way more quicker this time and you heard him grunt. Is he finally satisfied?
"i-is this good enough?" you asked him. Moaning as you say so.
"Yes. You're so good at this. keep sucking me." head tilting back while breathing heavily. Finally! he's satisfied.
He felt that he is about to cum. he didn't want to choke you with his precious cum so he take his dick out and release it all over your face. breathing heavily and moaning as he did that. Your face was all ruined now aww :(. Some of it was in your cheeks, hair, eyes, and lips. You licked some of it off while he stroke his dick. You smiled at him, what a good little girl. He needs more of you. and I mean. more.
He helps you stand up and then he lifts one of your legs to the counter and the other is at his shoe. Kissing all over you while he did. He kisses you as his hands guide his dick to your entrance. You were so wet by now. He is teasing you with his dick and he knows you want it.
"Barbatos please..? please put it inside. I can't wait anymore." whining and wiggling your ass as you told him, Gosh you were so needy for him. And he gladly does it.
He covers your mouth with his hands and slowly puts it inside. Eyes rolling and moaning when he did, your cunt was so tight and wet.. making him moan. He begins to fuck you slowly at first but as time went on, he got faster and faster. nghh his dick feels so good inside you and as for your legs? it was shaking. You were whimpering and moaning so much that he had to put his fingers inside of your mouth to calm you.
He was breathing heavily too, sometimes squishing your ass or your boobs when you were too loud. His hips begin to go quicker and tears are rolling down your face as you tell him to slow down. he didn't listen of course. Feeling that both of you are at the edge. He circle your clit to make you feel more pleasure.. kissing your neck while he did so.
"h-ha! barbatos~!" Hearing that makes him go more faster and sooner, and you both release at the same time. Your body trembling when you release, but still trying to suck his dick even deeper so that no cum of his is wasted. I mean, who wouldn't? his dick always hits your G-spot after all.
Your body was so weak that you couldn't stand up anymore. trembling so bad that you have to sit on the floor. It's not your fault, after all, It's his!
"Barbatos...I-i can't stand up anymore." while breathing heavily and letting his cum go out of your pussy to the floor. such a waste :( but you really try not to let anything spill out but you just can't.
"Don't worry darling. Since you helped me relax, I'll take care of you next. Maybe I should ask Diavalo for more breaks so I can just fuck you again hm?"
#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me shall we date#obey me smut#om smut#om barbatos#x reader#obey me barbatos#obey me barbatos x mc#obey me barbatos x reader#barbatos x reader#barbatos x mc#smut#om x reader
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Omgg I'm new to tublr but I love ur work smm could you pls do more carl grimes
SHELTERED c.grimes
☆ WORD COUNT - 2.8K
CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - carl's alexandrian girlfriend had always been somewhat sheltered, never so much as laid eyes on a zombie. however, when he decides to go on a supply run with his dad, some of her friends drag her to a party in the woods where she uncovers her first ever walker.
☆ WARNINGS - blood, gore, zombies, twd themes, violence, guns, crying, anxiety, worry, (1) use of y/n, pet names, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
alexandria was a quiet place in a world of chaos. it was nothing but comfort and clouds, nothing to worry for, nothing to be anxious about.
carl was anything but.
the boy was quite alike a storm the minute he'd entered the town. he was... different from other kids, that much was for sure. he was interested in comics and action while most the kids of alexandria only cared for their xbox's that were powered by the solar pannels.
so it was safe to say that when carl grimes made his way to the gazebo on a sunny day to read his action comic, you sitting with your romance novel threw him off a little.
he soon realised that you too were different.
you two got close so quickly, with your shelteredness, growing up in alexandria and his need to protect, having been on the road for so long, you were practically attached by the hip and the whole of alexandria could see.
when carl first met you, he took not of the plain innocence you displayed, not just because of your skirts and dresses that you pranced around in, pretty bow against your hair, but the fact that you grew up in alexandria. when shit hit the fan and the world turned to death, you never had to experience any of it. you were simply shielded from the dangers of the world as soon as the walls had been placed around your town.
truthfully, carl was glad.
one of the things the boy loved the most about you was the type of purity you displayed. every one of your actions was done with the need to help people. pure intentions.
you didn't have the type of heart for a world like their own, much too sweet to face the death that would stare right back at you.
"do you have to go?" That mumble he'd grown rather attached to. you used that mumble when you were tired, like now when the sun had set and darkness loomed over the town, still wrapped in your own bedsheets.
the boy hummed with dissatisfaction. "i'll be back tomorrow night." it wasn't unusual for the boy to leave at random hours of the night, not making it back until the next. it was to help his father and daryl on their runs, to get what the town needed.
was it selfish to wish he didn't have to?
you made a whine type of noise while muffled between the white pillows. carl only smiled softly. "get some rest, baby." the boy with the cowboy hat pressed a gentle kiss against the crown of your head, picking up his gun and making his way towards the door. "goodnight."
"g'night." but you were almost positive that you'd been asleep by the time the door closed shut again.
as much as carl loved going out on runs, there was something so god awful about leaving you wrapped up in the bed, alone. you were so sheltered your entire life, never knowing what was out there. it was almost as if he felt the need to protect you at all times, every day, assure both you and him that nothing was going to happen to you.
you had no intentions of leaving the walls.
alexandria was your home, your safety. you'd never so much as seen a walker before and you didn't plan on it anytime soon.
so when the words, "so, are you going?" came out of your best friends boyfriends lips, you only stared in shock.
enid, your best friend could only roll her eyes at the boy. "she doesn't want to." she spoke for you. "y/n doesn't like going outside of the walls, you know this."
and yet, he pressed further. "come on, everyone's gonna bet there, this will be the biggest one yet." a party that the teenagers and some of the younger adults went to. it was beyond the walls, out past where you were supposed to be. if anyone were to ever find out, you'd all be killed. so, you kept your mouth shut in hoping that if someone did find out about the parties, you'd never be tied to it. it wasn't as if you'd ever gone to one. "your little boyfriend never lets you go."
ron anderson wasn't the fondest of your boyfriend. it was evident since the day they met that they didn't like each other. believe me, carl had as much of a distaste for the boy as he did him. "carl isn't the reason."
"then what is?" you shrugged your shoulders, glancing down at your shoes. "you never do anything with us, it's like carl is the only thing you care about."
manipulation at it's finest. harmless, though, right?
"what?" an evident frown came across your face upon the realisation that your friends weren't even all the way sure if you liked them. "i do care about you guys."
"then do something with us for a change." the fourth of the group chimed in, mikey was his name. "besides, carl's gone and it's not like we're gonna tell him. your secrets safe with us."
you didn't want to go.
yet somehow, you found yourself wound up exactly where you 'didn't want to be'.
it wasn't that you were worried what carl would think. truthfully, as much as you valued the boy's opinion, you would never let him boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn't do. carl accepted you for all the beauty, all the ugly and never so much as questioned your actions, only doting when you got hurt. you couldn't love someone more. and neither could he.
but when your friends announced that they thought all you cared about was carl, you couldn't help but feel the guilt swirl through your veins. you loved carl, adored even but you could have friends to.
worried that they'd think you didn't want to hang out with them anymore, you found yourself for the first time in your life, exiting the walls.
you knew it was wrong the moment you stepped outside.
carl's old discarded flannel did nothing to help you keep the heat inside your body. you held it close, hoping the scent of carl would overpower the scent of alcohol that filled your nose. "you okay?" enid was the only one who took notice of your stiff figure.
" 'm fine." was the answer you gave, whether or not it had been true. all your mind could travel to was your boyfriend. yes, you never wanted to leave the walls of alexandria in fear of the walkers but you also knew how much carl wished for you to stay behind the protective walls to.
and he was going to be so mad once he found out where you were.
you could imagine him walking onto the street where your house lay. he'd climbed in through your bedroom window thousands of times before, you left it open for him to enter at any stage of the day or night. now, he'd find an empty bed.
enid noticed the way your face was twitching, though. "you sure? i can stay with you, if you want." but you could see the way her eyes were trailing towards her boyfriend from the other side of the party.
"no, it's okay." the girl gave you a unconvinced face. "really, 'm okay, now go get your boyfriend."
but you weren't okay.
the anxious thought started over as soon as enid left your side. the party unfolded, stupid music playing in the background. surely, that would attract walkers? your hazy eyes looked from person to person. enid was sat atop ron's lap, kissing him. mikey was between two girls, grinning to himself with a bottle in his hands. various other teenagers having the time of their lives. one boy, ethan you thought the name was, was standing on top of a makeshift table, chugging cans until the table collapsed beneath him.
you couldn't bear the sight, nor the smell of alcohol or any of the worry that filled your lungs making it suddenly hard to breathe.
you could imagine the state this would end up in, should a walker make it's way here. the teenagers here were the same sheltered people you'd grown up with, they'd went to the school with you in alexandria, they'd never been beyond the walls. now, they had and they hadn't been hunted down by walkers yet so they didn't expect it to happen.
but what if it did?
none of them were fighters, none of them went on supply runs or so much as tried to deal with walkers before.
it was only a matter of time before something went wrong.
and you simply couldn't be here anymore.
your chest was heavy as you stood from your place on the ground, trying to make your way towards the woods, tripping over rocks and bottles as you went.
the forest was dark and hidden, no light source aside from the moon. you squinted your eyes, trying to see where you were going. you looked in front of you, suddenly not knowing whether to turn left or right.
had you even taken this road on the way here...?
sudden worry that you were going the wrong way. you couldn't hear the music of the party anymore, it was long gone and it had been your only way back there.
you were lost and if you didn't make it back to the party or alexandria soon, nobody would ever find you. that's what you told yourself, at least. carl would spend forever looking for you until one day, he'll stumble across your dead corpse, either half eaten or roaming around in the same clothes you'd worn that day, his flannel shirt hanging from your frame.
the thoughts caused your head to spin, obviously not taking much notice of the ground in front of you. you held your hands out as your foot tripped over a rock, you used them to catch whatever was in front of you, preventing your fall.
you grasped what you thought was a tree.
until you heard the groan of the dead.
it stared you in the eye, his own glazed over with a type of grey. blood surrounded his mouth, dead skin hanging from his body. he appeared to be missing a finger.
you yelped, falling backwards and straight onto your back. your head scratched itself off a rock, using your hands to straighten yourself back up when you noticed it hadn't just been one dead, but three.
they all turned to you, a sick hungry look in their eye as they began stalking forward, gugrles and groans leaving their mouthes as they found the food of that day.
you'd never seen one before though you knew they'd be horrid looking. you never expected the smell, though. the rotting flesh scent that filled your nose, certainly overpowering the scent of the flannel. their rotted teeth and lack of hair had you scrambling to find something, a rock, a discarded knife or twig, something to use as some kind of a weapon.
but the truth was, you'd been sheltered too long.
how were you ever supposed to pick yourself up out of something like this when you didn't know the first thing about walkers.
you would have accepted your faith with a scream, let them tear into your flesh because you were no help to anybody, including yourself.
you couldn't so much as weave your way away from three walkers, hopeless.
then the sight of a knife sticking into his head was in front of you.
blood spurted out, covering your clothes and the boy next to the walker. carl grimes with his infamous sheriff's hat along with the knife that he plunged into the walker's head. "what the hell are you doing out here?!" shock was evident in his voice, though he appeared to be alone. he whipped around, taking out both the other two walkers while you merely stared in shock.
the blood that spurted onto the ground as the final walker fell to the grass. your glassy eyes could still make out carl's boot stomping onto its head, squishing it and causing blood, insides and flesh to tear and fall.
carl was met with the sight of your glassy eyes staring up at him, fear-stricken expression.
he found himself rushing towards you.
"'m sorry, 'm so sorry, carl. i didn't― ron―" the words came out like a childish blubber, unable to form sentences as fat tears left your eyes, rolling down your flush cheeks.
"are you bit?" carl didn't care for the words you spoke, scanning your body, pushing your arm up to scan wherever he could. "did you hurt your―" he cut himself off as his eyes landed on the blood dripping from your forehead. "what did you do?"
the sound of his disapproving voice was enough for your breath to shake. "'m sorry." you kept repeating. "i just― please don't be mad at me."
finally the words that ached the back of your throat.
it seemed as though shock was the thing that fell across his face, wondering why you'd ever think he'd get mad at you for something like this. "hey, hey, 'm not mad, baby, c'mere." in the dead of night, through the trees, the boy took you into his arms, seating you onto his lap as the sobs emitted your mouth. he carefully drew circles on your back with the palm of his hand. "you're jus' scared, is all, you're okay, sweetheart." sweet nothings filled your ears, nothing but comfort against your skin.
you choked, blubbering as you pushed your face away from the crook of his neck. "the others― we have to warn them." though eyes still full of tears.
innocence had obviously still been deeply embedded into your brain. otherwise, you would have figured out by now that they'd known. "They know, baby." you looked at him with confusion. "saw a couple of them throwing rocks at a walker."
thoughts filled your brain, confused.
enid and ron told you that this was the safest party there was. and despite your obvious doubts about something so ridiculous, they'd assured you that no walker had ever been so much as seen where you would be going.
you felt a pang of betrayal set in your bones. not only at the fact that they'd lied but at the fact that these people you grew up with, very same innocence as your own, were using walkers like toys, pets even.
"come on, pretty girl." fingers working against your waist, gently soothing the skin. "let's get you home."
home. that sounded nice. "'kay." voice still slick with your earlier tears.
carl practically carried you all the way home. it wasn't until you were sat inside your bathroom, sat against the porcelain toilet while he crouched in front of you on the ground that the tears stopped. "'s gonna hurt." he warned.
you nodded, fingers holding around his own hand while the free one used a cotton pad filled with rubbing alcohol to disinfect the wound.
you winced, glass glossing over again. "i know, sweetheart, i know." pretty words falling from his lips as he cared for you like no other human being would ever be capable of doing. "jus' gotta get it done, yeah?"
and he did just that, quickly disinfecting the wound before grasping the gauze. your eyes were open, staring forward at his pretty face in front of you. he looked tired enough but he usually did with his sunken eye and tired perplexion. you always said it was because he wasn't eating enough. that was the thing about carl, always forgetting to take care of himself in the simplest of ways.
but you? no, he couldn't possibly forget a thing.
" 'm sorry." you'd said it before, but you couldn't express it enough.
carl slowly retracted his hands from your face, sighing gently. he moved his hands back up, only this time they cupped your cheeks instead of dusting your forehead. "what you did was stupid." you nodded in agreement. "you should know better, what's out there should stay out there and you should stay in here, where it's safe." you didn't bother explaining the situation, knowing it'd been you who decided to leave, ron didn't decide that for you. "you're lucky today didn't end worse."
"i know." voice cracking as your eyes gazed down upon the tiled ground of your bathroom where carl crouched.
he lifted your face up with his left hand, tilting his head slightly. "but that doesn't mean 'm mad at you, you know that, right?" you shrugged, supposing you didn't know that. "could never be mad at you."
"'m an idiot." you mumbled, attempting to look as far away from the boy as you could.
"a little." he grinned causing you to turn with a smile of your own. "'s okay, though. i'll do the thinkin' for you from now on, yeah?"
didn't seem like too bad of an idea.
main masterlist/carl's masterlist
#carl#grimes#carl grimes#carl x reader#carl grimes x reader#carl x you#carl grimes x you#carl x y/n#carl grimes x y/n#carl imagine#carl grimes imagine#carl grimes drabble#carl grimes oneshot#carl grimes smut#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes angst#carl drabble#carl oneshot#carl smut#carl fluff#carl angst#the walking dead#twd#twd x reader#twd x y/n#twd x you#twd imagine#twd fluff#twd angst#twd oneshot
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do you think megumi would be sentimental about love? as in first love, summer love, or just long lost love that will never happen again?
and how would he act? would he try to bury those feelings at the bottom of his heart? throw it out the window? distract himself?
idc what au, i want to know all your thoughts
🫐
Now listen, I think he definitely would be sentimental. In my mind he's feeling everything very intensely, at times it might even overwhelm him.
ALSO i'm so sorry this turned a bit longer and went into so many different directions. I hope I gave you at least something and didn't just leave you empty handed TT
Megumi doesn't like to show it, he doesn't like to get close to others, mainly because of his profession. At least that's what he tells himself. But let's take a little dive into his head.
His deadbeat father left when he was a child, his step sisters mother just up and went away. His only real healthy and strong relationship has always been his sister. Sure, Gojo cares, but the amount of time it took to let even Gojo in was immense. And then later on he basically loses his sister to a coma. He doesn't know how to really deal with relationships of any kind, he might even be a little unstable and has no real sense of self.
In my opinion he wouldn't know how to behave when he feels love for the first time. It would overcome him and possibly freak him out.
At first he might actually try to fight it, distract himself with training and missions as much as he could. He would practically beg Gojo to give him anything to do and would even consider doing some manager work for Ijichi at this point.
However, nothing works. His mind still travels to you way too many times, and eventually he just knows it's a force stronger than any sorcery. He catches himself thinking about you whenever something happens, wanting to tell you about it or just yearning for your presence and have you tell him about your entire day in full detail.
He sees you and a smile tugs at his lips, cracking the usually stoic facade. He wouldn't even notice it. You've taken his heart so quickly and effortlessly that he swears it has been yours all along.
There are times where he's alone, with nothing to do and he just stares out the window, at the sunset and how it paints the prettiest colours onto the sky and it reminds him of you. It brings so many small details about you into his mind and he ends up smiling while just reminiscing about you for god knows how long.
The moment he realises that he's actually so deep in love that there's no way out but through he shows his determination, even though there's still doubt in the back of his mind.
Mind you, he never courted anyone, his sole knowledge about romance comes from movies, and some ill advised comments from Gojo. Therefore he opts for a classical way. He would find you when you're not surrounded by others, with a flower in his hand and kind of awkwardly ask you if you want to go out. To which you say yes, of course.
It takes him a few moments to realise that you actually agreed and he cannot stop his lips from smiling, which makes him all the prettier in your mind.
There's a moment where you turn to the other side to hide your faint blush and his eyes fall to the scrunchie in your desk. Without even thinking about it he'd subtly snatch it and let it disappear in his pocket. This boy who usually thinks everything through and tries not to act irrational couldn't help himself, now he's glancing at your scrunchie whenever he misses you. But don't expect him to ever confess this to you, it's a secret he'll keep inside for far too long.
In the end Megumi embraces the love, he's sentimental about it, but not too open. He shows you how much you mean and how happy you make him, but in public he still mostly wears a stoic expression because it's no one else's business that you make his heart swell up three sizes or that just a smile from you makes him weak in the knees.
#stef answers#berry anon#stef’s brainrots#megumi fushiguro fluff#megumi fushiguro brainrot#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader
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