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libraryofgage · 8 months

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Pirate/Mermaid Steddie One

There is way more mermaid culture world-building than I intended, but that's the fun part lmao

This part discusses injuries, has a mention of mutilation in passing, and involves stitching up a large wound. Nothing is graphic, but there are some descriptions of pain

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future parts!

As always, if you see any typos no you didn't

----

There were a few things Eddie expected from this raid. Gold, of course. Supplies like food, obviously. Some new weapons, surely.

A fucking mermaid? Nowhere near that list of expected things.

And yet, here he stands in the doorway of the raided ship captain's cabin, caught in a staring contest with a merman that's definitely seen better days.

He's stuck in a tiny wooden tub, his tail forced against his chest as the rest of it flops over the edge and trails the floor. His blue-and-green with inexplicable hints of orange scales are dull, too dull, and Eddie is trying really hard to control the sheer rage he feels at the jagged cut that drags down the middle of the tail and through the fin at the bottom. The edges of the wound have crusted over, but it still looks painful, and Eddie knows it was meant to keep the merman from using his tail to escape.

Eddie takes a step into the cabin, ready to just scoop the merman up and take him back to his ship. But he stops when the merman tenses, his entire body somehow becoming more rigid. His hands on the edge of the tub tighten, his sharp nails digging into the slowly rotting wood. He's staring at Eddie like he's some new threat, which seriously is not gonna help with the whole "take the gorgeous merman with incredible hair and alluring brown eyes back to his ship and nurse him back to health" thing.

Eddie freezes and holds his hands up. "Sorry," he says, keeping his voice low and soothing. The merman doesn't relax much, but his nails are no longer digging into the wood. Eddie figures that's a tiny win.

"I'm Captain Eddie of the Corroded Coffin. We didn't expect to find you here, sweetheart."

The nickname just slips out, an unthinking attempt to butter the merman up and an admission of his own thoughts. The merman's eyes narrow, slowly looking Eddie over as though sizing him up.

Eddie lets him, perfectly content with standing still if it means the merman will give him even one iota more of his trust. "That doesn't look very comfortable," he says, nodding to the tub. "Would you like some help?"

The merman relaxes a little more, and Eddie has no clue what he did to cause that. Before he can think too much about it, the merman points to a dresser on the other side of the room, looking at Eddie expectantly.

"You want something from there?"

The merman nods, which tells Eddie he at least understands human language. That doesn't give him any idea if the merman can speak it, though.

He walks over to the dresser and looks at the merman, pointing to each drawer in turn until the merman nods. The fourth drawer is, apparently, the correct one. When Eddie opens it, he finds a small treasure trove. It must be a collection of trophies from the ship captain's previous raids.

A quick glance reveals a gold crown with rubies, several diamond rings, a few silver bracelets with various gemstones along the bands, and a pearl and seashell necklace thrown on top. Eddie knows the merman probably wants that necklace most, but he can't help thinking of a rumor that mermaids like shiny things.

The drawer is full of shiny things.

He hesitates for less than a second before pulling out the entire drawer itself and turning around. "I'm not sure what you want from here," he lies, smiling apologetically at the merman. "Can I come close enough to show you?"

The merman stares at him before slowly nodding once, suspicion practically radiating off of him. Eddie flashes a more genuine smile and slowly approaches, giving the merman enough time to reject his presence. When he's a few steps away, Eddie crouches and tilts the drawer so the merman can see what's inside.

Immediately, the merman reaches out and snatches the pearl and seashell necklace. The gills on the side of his neck flutter slightly as he puts it on, and Eddie wonders if that's a sign of relief. "Was that everything you wanted?" he asks.

The merman glances at him, one hand still lingering on the necklace. He glances down at the drawer again, seeming to argue with himself before reaching out and removing the crown and every bracelet. He carefully slips the bracelets on and clutches the crown in his hands.

"Anything else?" Eddie asks, his tone indulgent. It must be reassuring, though, because the merman looks at him with curiosity more than anything else. It's like he's trying to figure out what he can get away with.

A few seconds pass before the merman glances down at the drawer. His gaze lingers at the edges, and Eddie starts to wonder what could possibly be there when the merman points at one of his rings.

Eddie blinks, following the merman's finger to a chunky ring. It's shaped like a bat with emeralds for eyes and diamonds for teeth. It's one of Eddie's favorites; he found it on his first raid, took it right off the captain's hand himself. Nobody has ever dared ask to touch it, let alone have it.

Without a second thought, Eddie puts the drawer down, slips the ring off his finger, and offers it to the merman. It sits in the palm of his hand, meaning they'd have to touch if the merman really wants it that badly.

Slowly, the merman reaches for the ring, his nails tickling against Eddie's palm as he takes it. From the light brush against Eddie's fingers, the merman's skin is cool, exactly like jumping into the ocean on a hot day.

----

Steve is a firm believer in the power of small comforts, especially as it relates to the growth of his guppies. Dustin has long outgrown his baby tail belt, but he still wraps it around his wrist every morning. El and Will no longer need the seaweed and coral dolls Steve made for them when they were barely able to swim a straight line, but they still tuck them in every night.

So, when the human (Eddie, Steve reminds himself) offers up a drawer filled with shiny jewelry, Steve doesn't hold himself back. The bracelets make him feel grounded, the crown gives him something to clutch without the risk of breaking it, and the ring...

Well, the ring was more to see if Eddie's actions would match his tone. And because Steve thought it was fascinatingly grotesque. What kind of creature would have wings without feathers? Sure, the gulls he sometimes sees near the surface are confusing, but the ring depicts something even further beyond his imagination. What's up with the sharp teeth? Why must the eyes be green? Does it know it's a freak of nature?

Anyway, the jewelry helps. Steve uses it to distract himself from the sheer agony screaming from his tail when Eddie lifts him out of the cramped tub. He thinks about which bracelet he'll give to which guppy (Robin will get the crown) when the edges of his tailfin graze against Eddie's legs as he confidently walks across a plank connecting the two ships. He closely studies the featherless wings on the ring to avoid thinking about what's to come when Eddie sets him down on a large, surprisingly comfortable bed in another private cabin and starts gathering a needle and thread.

There's not much left to distract him when Eddie kneels next to the bed and looks up at him, his eyes reminding Steve of his guppies when they've done something bad and need him to clean up the mess.

"This is gonna hurt," Eddie tells him, his voice soft and gentle and full of regret as he grabs a bottle from the table next to the bed.

The liquid inside is clear, and Steve would think it was water if his nose hadn't been hit with such an astringent scent when Eddie opened it. Before he can fully process the smell, Eddie tips the bottle and pours the liquid onto Steve's tail.

An involuntary screech rips out of his throat, a burning sensation clawing along the cut and making his scales buzz. Without thinking, Steve grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks it away, his lips pulled back in a snarl that reveals sharp teeth. Despite the physical pain, Steve thinks the worst part is that he let himself get distracted by small comforts and warm brown eyes and Eddie's soft voice.

He should know better.

"Shit," Eddie mutters, quickly dropping the now-empty bottle to the floor. It cracks but doesn't break, and he looks up at Steve. "I should've explained that better. Holy fuck, I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I had to clean it. If I sewed it up without doing so, it might get infected."

Steve narrows his eyes, his grip tightening briefly as he studies Eddie's face. He seems genuinely apologetic, and Steve understands his intentions once he's processed Eddie's words. Steve had to do something similar when Mike and Lucas bothered a shark too much. Their wounds weren't nearly as bad as Steve's, but they'd still cried and shouted when Steve and Robin had to pull teeth and bits of coral out of their wounds before wrapping them in seaweed.

"I'm done with that part, though," Eddie says, his voice practically desperate for Steve to understand. "You can squeeze my shoulder or something while I sew it up."

A few seconds pass before Steve nods once, slowly letting go of Eddie's wrist. As Eddie starts threading the needle, Steve places his hand on his shoulder, bracing himself for the upcoming pain by squeezing the crown in his other hand.

Eddie takes a deep breath as he glances up at Steve. He licks his lips, looking back at the top of the cut. "Okay, I'm starting now," he says, waiting long enough to see Steve nod before starting the first stitch.

The alcohol hurt. The stitching is a fucking bitch. But, honestly, none of it is as bad as when that first disgusting human dragged a dagger through Steve's tail. He still hisses, gripping Eddie's shoulder tighter and unable to stop his nails from digging into his skin. Despite how it must hurt, Eddie doesn't flinch, and Steve feels a little better.

"You know," Eddie says, mostly focused on keeping his hand steady and his stitches even, "I wish I knew your name. I can't keep calling you sweetheart."

He could. Steve wouldn't mind it. But he also knows it isn't entirely fair that Eddie doesn't know he can speak. They'll need to be able to talk, Steve thinks, if they're going to be around each other for a while longer.

And Eddie has been kind enough that Steve wouldn't mind being around him for however long it takes his tail to heal.

"Steve," he says.

To his credit, Eddie doesn't drop the needle. He does tense for a moment, his hand pausing as he looks up. "What?" he asks.

"My name. It's Steve."

"You can talk."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Eddie hums, looking back at the cut as he starts stitching again. "You didn't say anything before," Eddie says.

"The last human who saw me mutilated my tail," Steve replies.

"Fair. Is, uh, is your name really Steve?"

"That's the closest translation to your language."

"What's your name in your language?"

Steve hesitates for a moment before clearing his throat. He feels his gills flutter, trying to create the bubble pattern that accompanies his name as he lets out a rhythmic series of squeaks and clicks with a short hiss at the end.

A few seconds pass after he's done. And then Eddie nods once and says, "Steve it is. How'd you get caught, Stevie?"

Ignoring the slight urge to point out that Eddie said his name wrong, Steve frowns slightly. "One of my guppies got caught in that ship's net. I got them out but was caught myself."

"One of your...guppies?"

"Yes. You would call them...children, I think?"

Eddie has nearly reached the middle of Steve's tail by now, and his hand falters once more. "Children? Aren't you...a little young?"

Steve bristles, glaring at Eddie. He's heard that same question plenty of times from members of other pods before, and he's tired of it. "What does it matter if they are happy and healthy?" he asks.

"Sorry," Eddie whispers, glancing up at Steve. There's something he can't quite read in Eddie's eyes. "Do you raise them alone?"

"What? No, of course not. My partner, Robin, raises them with me. We have seven guppies, with an eighth on the way."

"An eighth?!" Eddie asks, sounding strained as he pauses his stitching once more to look up at Steve. "Shit, man, shouldn't you give Robin a break?"

Steve blinks, tilting his head slightly. "Why would she need a break?" he asks.

"She's already popped out seven!"

Suddenly, Steve realizes what the disconnect is. He blinks once more and dissolves into laughter. "Oh!" he says, the exclamation broken by a giggle as he tries to calm himself down. "No, no, she is my partner, not my mate. Besides, she doesn't even like mermen."

Eddie seems to relax at Steve's explanation, his shoulders dropping and his voice significantly lighter as he starts stitching again and says, "Oh, I see. Then whose kids are they?"

"Technically, they belong to the pod," Steve explains, gritting his teeth as Eddie reaches the tailfin. He feels warm all over, his nerves jumping and his scales feeling half-ready to just fall off. "Each pod has at least two caretakers. Mates have a guppy and let caretakers raise them while they focus on their own roles within the pod."

"Do you like being a caretaker?"

"Yeah," Steve says, managing a shaky smile despite the tugging on his tailfin and Eddie's fingers pressing against his scales. "They're my guppies. I'd drain the oceans for them."

"And, uh, what about your mate? Do they mind you being so...devoted to the guppies?"

It's not at all subtle, but Steve finds it oddly endearing nonetheless. He slowly exhales, forcing himself to loosen his grip on Eddie's shoulder. "I don't have one."

Just like before, Eddie seems to relax some at the answer. He also finishes stitching, tying off the thread with a secure knot before carefully cutting away the excess. "Well, uh, we'll get you healed up and back to your guppies as soon as possible," he says, looking up at Steve.

"It needs to be wrapped in kelp. And, uh, I'll need a tub. You know, with seawater."

Eddie nods along, flashing a reassuring grin. "Don't worry, Stevie, I'll get you anything you want," he promises.

"Anything?" Steve asks, leaning forward some as he tilts his head.

"I already gave you my favorite ring, sweetheart."

Steve glances down at said ring, wondering what about it could possibly make it Eddie's favorite. He can't immediately figure it out, but that doesn't change the sweet warmth and anticipation for the time he'll spend with Eddie that he suddenly feels.

#steddie #steddie fic #high seas steddie #that's gonna be the fic tag for this series btw #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fluff #my writing

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kenslilove · 3 months

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᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?! Pt.2

preview: You called him your boyfriend? Why would you do that? Draken isn't sure he's cut out to be the boyfriend to Takemichi's precious little sister...

ft. Ken "Draken" Ryuuguji x fem!reader

wc. 9kish... help 🫠🤪😰😵‍💫🥴🤡

W. NFSW 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (Draken is in his late 20’s and owns the bike shop, reader is in their early 20’s in university), fem reader (takemichi’s little sister), crybaby/bimbo reader, angsty in the middle, Draken is very insecure of his ability to be in a relationship, slight exhibitionism (Draken fucks you while on call), multiple cream pies, messy make-outs, oral (m!receiving), mating press, squirting, lots of praise, aftercare, lots of pet names, it gets soft and passionate at the end 🥹🥹

an. The long-awaited part 2 of “Who’s Little Sister.” I put my heart, soul, and pussy into this piece. I think it's my favourite thing I've ever written in all honesty, it very much encapsulates how I think Draken’s and I’s relationship would start. God, I love him so much. It’s also the first time I've written anything remotely angsty though, and I can’t tell if it's lame or not LMFAO. Please, let me know what you think. I'm so very happy to be reposting this piece on this blog to share with yall, it’s literally so important to me <33 and I’m so so happy this is the fic that is bringing back my writing spark! Part 3 will hopefully be even better than this 🙏🏼🤭 Constructive feedback, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

extra note: Listen to “Nothings gonna hurt you baby.” By Cigarettes After Sex during the last scene. It’s Kenny’s and I’s selfship song and help inspired me for the ending <33

tagging: @enchantedforest-network @eveningatthemoviesnetwork and @shoyosdoll bc you've been such a supporter of this fic hehe <33 i hope you love part 2 as much as part 1 <33

“Draken-Kun, are you coming tonight?”

There was silence on Draken’s end of the phone as all the other males on-call waited for a response. Mikey was the first one to say something back, annoyance clear in his tone as he spoke directly into the receiver, making his voice sound much louder than necessary.

“Oi, Ken-Chin, get off the phone if you’re just gonna ignore us.”

“Sorry–” Draken finally responded, his voice seeming just a bit more… strained than usual. Not enough for the boys to notice until he grunted softly, what seemed to be creaking or something muffled in the background of his audio call.

“You good, dude?” Mitsuya piped up, his own voice a little muffled due to a sewing needle between his lips but nothing like Draken’s.

“Oh yea, fuckin peachy–” Draken breathed in response, his huff coming out as a soft laugh when a bit of sweat started to roll down his temple.

If he was being honest, he wasn’t really paying attention to the call, how could he, when you, Takemichi’s precious little sister was underneath him, sprawled out and trembled as his cock drilled into you at a steady pace. You were biting down on your bottom lip so hard, Draken swore that blood would free itself soon from the delicate flesh, your eyes screwed shut as your pretty chest bounced with each thrust of his hips. You were trying so hard for him to be quiet, just like he instructed as soon as he picked up the phone. The attempt was adorable, considering how vocal you usually were for him.

But Draken was twisted, he knew that deep down, so he just couldn’t help himself when he angled his hips just right so his cock head would jab right into that gummy sweet spot within your walls. You yelped, pleasure shooting up your spine, only for the sound to be cut off by the smack of Draken’s free palm clamping over your mouth.

“Who has a girl over~?” Baji piped up, suddenly very much interested in the conversation. Draken laughed shallowly into his receiver, his hand tightening up along your jaw as he continued to ram into the spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t even control your babbles when he did this, an endless stream of whimpers and sobs being muffled into his palm as you held onto his wrist for dear life.

“Gotta go, Text me what time I needa be there–” Draken didn’t wait for a response from his friends. Instead, he hung up quickly, abandoning the device somewhere on the bed. When he released the hold on your mouth you whined at him, the tears finally spilling from your eyes.

“K-Kenny, Kenny please– Please–!”

“So fuckin loud pretty, all the damn time,” Draken says it with a grin, easily manhandling your thighs over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper. He presses a kiss to your ankle, right beside the anklet he bought you as your pussy flutters so desperately around his cock.

“O-Oh! Please, Ken–!”

“Please what?” Draken grunts, his hips slapping up against yours ruthlessly now as his release comes dangerously close. He knew you weren’t far behind. Had learned your signs very early on. Your toes would curl, your eyes would get foggy, chest stuttering. Your pussy would milk him so tight and leave rings of arousal on his cock.

And he loved every second of it.

“Wanna cum, needa cum again–!” you pleaded with him, nails digging into the muscles of his flexing biceps. He nodded in agreement, his own voice becoming hoarse due to the sheer squeeze of your pussy. Although his pace started to get sloppy he still fucked into you, one hand slithering between your sweaty bodies in order to massage ruthlessly at your clit.

“Go on then, cum, make a fuckin mess f’me gorgeous.” He breathes, licking his lips when you throw your head back with a cry. The mess you make on his cock is breathtaking, arousal squirting from your used hole and dousing his hand, wrist and abs. He swears under his breath at the borderline painful grip your pussy has on his cock when you finish, one final thrust allowing him to spill ropes of cum right up against your cervix.

Draken’s trembling when he falls onto his elbows over you, his breath coming out a bit shaky as his cock still twitches within your walls in the aftermath of both of your highs. He starts pressing wet, opened-mouthed kisses along your neck and face to help you come too, a soft chuckle leaving his lips when you whine softly.

“You okay baby?” His voice is a whisper, and as the energy slowly comes back to you he smooths his palm over your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye to pick up leftover tears. You nod, one of your trembly hands lazily dragging through his black locks of hair. “Mhm, m’good, Kenny. Help me sit up?” He does, one big palm on the back of your neck to help you to sit up against the headboard.

He presses a smooch to your lips before easing himself out of you, both of you wincing softly from the loss of contact. It’s only when he pulls out completely and his softening cock falls against his thigh that he realises just how big of a mess the two of you made of yourself and the sheets. It makes him swell with pride, a grin slowly curling on his lips.

You’ve come a long way, from the sweet girl who was just learning to cream on his cock to the messes you’ve made on his bed on the daily.

“M’gunna get a cloth.” He says, handing you a glass of water and your phone as soon as he stands to keep you occupied. His muscles are still a bit tingly as he stands, arms stretching up and above his head as he heads towards the bathroom.

“Nice butt!” You call out, making him snort softly as he stands before the bathroom mirror. He can’t help but admire the marks you’ve littered across his neck and chest, the cute little bruises reminding him of the shape of your puckered lips. He then examines the nail marks you’ve left along his forearms and shoulders, some of the red pathways breaking in the middle to show little droplets of blood. Lastly, he sighs dreamily at the sheen of your arousal that coats his pelvis, a ring of white still layered at his base.

Man knew he was in heaven.

When he came back to the bedroom after tidying himself a bit, as well as with a cloth in hand you were on the phone with someone, giggling into the receiver and looking up at Draken with a playful glint in your eye.

“I’ll actually meet with you later, m’with my boyfriend right now~” Despite the way your giggling increased and you squealed to your friend about how you’ve mentioned him before with such excitement, Draken was anything but that.

His chest tightened up, crease forming between his brow. Boyfriend? When did that become his title?

“Kennnnnny~” You snapped him out of his thoughts, though his brows stayed furrowed. “Hurry! The mess is only getting bigger over here.”

One hand was planted on the mattress as he gently wiped the dampened towel over your pussy and thighs, your hand coming to cover his, making him pause in your tracks. “Shouldn’t scowl so much, handsome.” You murmur it gently, thumb gently smoothing between his brows in an attempt to fix the crinkles there. “You’ll get wrinkles~”

“You called me your boyfriend–” His voice was blunt, which took you by slight surprise. A little pout formed on your swollen lower lip as you subconsciously squeezed at his wrist.

“Well, yea–”

“We haven’t talked about that.” He was still being blunt as ever, so much so it almost startled you, made you feel much smaller under him as he sat up on his hunched, throwing the soiled cloth into the laundry bin.

“I-I know…” You simply muttered, chest started to feel tight as you watched just how serious his face had become. He was tugging his strands of black hair into a low bun when you sat up a bit more, fingers gently brushing over his chest. “But I just thought, thought that we were together…”

And it wasn’t wrong for you to think that way. Ever since that first night at Draken’s apartment the two of you had been secretly hanging out. You went out to restaurants, and the local arcade took his bike to the mountainside and watched the sunset. The two of you had bought little things for one another, like the gold anklet that sat pretty on your ankle and the hello kitty keychain that was currently attached to his bike keys. You even made sure to turn off your location so Takemichi couldn’t see just how often you were having sleepovers at Draken’s place.

You two did the things that couples did together. You two did the things that you saw Takemichi and Hina do on the regular. Dare you even say, you did things with Draken that he and Emma used to do–

Plus, he was fucking you every chance he got.

“Well, maybe you shoulda thought about talkin to me about it first before you go squealing that I’m your boyfriend.” His tone was harsher than he wanted it to be, a tone he usually used with his friends but never really with you. It had you suck in a soft breath, suddenly feeling very exposed curled up in nothing but his bedsheets.

“You don’t have to be so mean–”

“M’not being mean, I’m being realistic. It ain’t cute to just assume I’m your boyfriend when we haven’t talked about anything official.” He was off the bed now, tugging up his boxers. When you didn’t respond he sighed. “We hang out and fuck around, why do we need to be more than–”

When he turned around again to look you in the eye his own voice caught in his throat. Your eyes had gotten wide, a glossy layer of tears hiding the usual beautiful shine your gaze held. Your lower lip was trembling softly, fingers clutching onto the covers so tightly he noticed how your knuckles turned white.

“Hey–”

“M’gunna go.” You interrupted, the crack in your tone only making his heart plummet harder in his chest. As you got to your feet, his blanket securely wrapped around you he grabbed both your shoulders.

“Hey, don’t be like that (Y/N), you don’t even have a ride–”

“Gunna call Michi.” You slipped out of his grasp by tucking yourself out from under his hands, bending to grab at your clothes scattered across the ground.

“Like hell you are. We’re not telling him about us, remember what happened last time?” Draken could still hear the boy's ruthless comments after that first night, the crack of Baji’s fist against his jaw–

“Don’t care, wanna go home.” Your muttering had gotten softer, ready to slip into the bathroom and shut the door right in his face.

“Would you stop being such a brat?” Draken grabbed at your arm this time, tugging it back towards him. He himself hadn’t expected it to be so forceful, the little squeak you released and the falling of tears instantly making him let go of you. You both stared at each other a little shocked, Draken’s breath froze in his throat and his fingertips went a bit cold as you looked at him.

Teary-eyed, shrunken in. Scared. Were you scared of him?

Without a word, you finally went into the bathroom, and it was only then that Draken let out his frustrated breath, cheeks feeling hot as he clenched his fists up at his sides. Fuck, what the fuck was happening right now. He hated this nonsense, hated just how frustrated he felt, hated that look on your face, hated that he couldn’t even really understand what emotions were running through his head.

Why was he mad anyway? Why was any of this really a big deal?

He used his own phone to call you a cab, knowing you wouldn’t actually call Takemichi to pick you up. You had also gotten an ear full after getting caught, and as much as you trusted your brother, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. You stayed locked in the bathroom until Draken gave the wood a gentle knock with his knuckles.

“Cabs here…” He murmured. You didn’t look at him when you walked out, eyes bloodshot and downcast and when slipped past him fully clothed. He watched from the ledge of his bed, jaw set rigid as you so casually adjusted your bag over your shoulder, now a little overfilled with the stuff you had started to accumulate in his bathroom. Something slipped from your fingertips onto his kitchen counter before you made a beeline for the door, Draken only getting up when it closed firmly behind you.

He approached slowly, that odd feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach seeming to grow, expanding into his chest as he noticed the subtle twinkle on the countertop. It was the anklet he bought you, dainty, gold, shiny, his initials hanging from the small tag.

“Fuck—!“ His emotions boiled over into anger, face red when his fist connected with the drywall. A crack formed in the white fall, his knuckles taking on a deep purple almost instantly as he pulled his clenched fist back to his side. Instead, he let his forehead rest in the dent he just made, thoughts spiralling, making his heart pound in his chest.

Had he really just done that? Made a big deal over nothing? Put his hands on you? And for what?

You called him your boyfriend… was that really… so wrong?

Was he really so set on “not being a sister fucker”, did he really care so much about what the boys thought, what people said about him, that he was willing to let you go?

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed leaned up against the wall like that, thoughts running wildly through his mind, making it pound. Eventually, when his eyes started to get sore, narrowing down in an attempt to hold back unwanted angry tears he moved back to his room to plop himself down into bed. And he didn’t get up for the rest of the evening.

It had been a week.

One whole week since you had left Draken’s apartment, and the two of you had not spoken since. Day three was when Draken caved and texted you, considering you had turned your location off for him so he couldn’t check up on you from time to time.

“Are you okay? Please, we need to talk.”

Radio silence. The message was left unread by you. He even sent another the day after, just a quick message but a little more firm than the last.

“Don’t shut me out like this.”

And still, nothing. It was killing Draken from the inside out. Each day that passed made him more anxious than the last. Were you okay? Did you hate him now? Were you crying to your brother? Draken couldn’t ask Takemichi about you, cause he didn’t even know you two were a thing in the first place. But every time he saw his black-haired friend his heart would stutter, tightening up in his chest.

You laughed just like he did. Were you laughing right now?

Draken had a bad habit of letting things like this consume him. Almost everything seemed to remind him of you or something the two of you had done and it was driving him a little crazy. And all because you had called him your boyfriend.

All because Draken was afraid to commit to someone again despite his need to do so. All of his friends always thought he was so mature, and yet here he was, working through feelings that were staring him right in the face like some teenage boy.

He kept his headphones in at the shop, his body hunched slightly on the stool he set up beside the bike he was currently repairing. The music was loud, drowning out not only the background noise but his thoughts that seem to repeat themselves over and over. His brows were slightly furrowed when he lifted from the busted engine only a moment, just enough to wipe away excess sweat that built up on his brow.

That’s when he caught a glimpse of you. It made his heart pause mid-beat, breath hitching in his throat. He caught the last bits of you as you rounded the corner that led up the stairs, probably in search of Takemichi But that didn’t matter.

Draken found himself scurrying from his seat, the stool skidding from under him as he was quick to follow suit. With long strides, he made it to the stairs and there you were, hand on the railing, one of those cute little skirts he loved hugging your waist just right. He called out to you, twice actually, quickly pulling his headphones from his ears when you actually turned to look at him.

“Hey–”

“I won’t be long.” You simply responded, voice sounding much too sad for Draken’s liking. He noticed how your hand tensed up on the railing when he approached and it made him frown. “I’m just grabbing something for Michi–”

“I wanna talk to you.” He took another step, a tentative one. He hated how your eyes were already getting a little glassy. “Let’s just talk, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna talk, Ken.” There was that familiar shake in your tone, the one he had become very aware of. You were just like your brother in so many ways.

His sweet little crybaby.

“C’mere…” He was on the step right in front of you now, the levelling allowing him to lean down just a bit so his face could be close to yours. You took your time meeting his gaze, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. “It’s okay baby…”

“You–” He could tell you were trying to gather your bearings, trying so desperately not to crumble and let the tears fall that were already sitting in your lashes. He was patient with you, scared that if he went in too strong you’d just run off from him again. You sucked in a shaky breath before continuing. “You really hurt me, Draken.”

He could have hissed, chest getting a little tight. He hated the way that nickname sounded coming from you.

“I know, I know little love and–”

“Do you not wanna be my boyfriend? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you–”

“Then be my boyfriend.” It had been a bit more firm than he expected, your brows set and a little pout on your lips after you spoke it. Had things been a little different, he would have told you just how proud he was of you for standing your ground like that.

“It’s not, it's just not that simple.” It was his turn to think his words over, lips catching between his teeth as those doubtful thoughts started returning to him. He was right, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that simple because–

“Why not?” You were being blunt again, words bordering on angry as you sniffled. The first few tears finally fell and Draken wanted nothing more than to wipe them away.

“Well to start, there’s your brother–”

“I don’t care what Michi thinks!” You groaned it out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wanna be with you, Ken–”

“But–” He really hated that he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

“What are you so afraid of?”

That really made Draken stop, eyes widening just a bit as he looked back into your teary ones. Your chest was heaving a bit as the silence sat heavily between the two of you. Draken blinked, once, twice, brain reeling over this one simple question.

Draken had been in many fights, grew up in a brothel, seen blood and gore and sex and a lot of things people shouldn’t see. He wasn’t scared any of those times. So, why now? Why was he so scared now as he looked into your eyes that were basically pleading with him for an answer.

“I–” His words were shaky, and finally broke the intense gaze the two of you were sharing as he looked down. “I dunno.”

There was another beat of silence before you continued up the staircase. Draken only looked up when he knew you were at the top, far enough away from him that he didn’t have to feel like your gaze was piercing him. He wished that he didn’t look though, wished that he hadn’t seen that sad smile on your lips.

He never wanted to see that ever again, not on you.

“I hope I’ll still be around when you figure it out.”

Drake wasn’t sure how much time had passed now since he had seen you. The first few days he refused to even think about that interaction on the stairs. That sad smile of yours easily pulls his heart apart and thinking back on it only made him more and more pissed at himself.

So instead of thinking of you, he filled his time with work. He found himself opening and closing the shop, despite Inui trying to make him go back to their balanced schedule. He took on more projects, burying himself under the weight of grease and bolts instead of dealing with the weight that now sat in his chest.

You hadn’t come back to the shop yet either, he had a feeling you’d never come back.

What got Draken out of work early one night was a call from Mitsuya. He called twice before Draken reluctantly picked up the phone, the annoyance clear in his tone as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“Ya know m’working–”

“Well, you sound just delighted to hear from me~” Mitsuya hummed, chuckling when he heard Draken’s grunt from the other end of the phone. Mitsuya was organising threads by colour when he spoke. “Come over tonight?”

“I don’t feel like partying,” Draken answered back right away. What he meant though was that he didn’t wanna go in case Takemichi was there because then he would only remind him of–

“It’s not gonna be a party doofus, it’ll just be us two.” Draken made a look of disgust, more so at the insult than anything else. “Just come.”

“I have shit to do here–” He was trying his best to get out of this, but if anyone could see through Draken’s bullshit, it was Mitsuya.

“You’ve locked yourself in that damn shop for the past week, I know you can make a little time to go out. Let Inui close tonight.”

“Nah, it’s my night.” It wasn’t.

“Bet you haven’t even showered.”

“Oh fuck off–” Draken grunted, sniffing himself only because Mitsuya wasn’t there to give him the side-eye. He scowled softly to himself when the scent he picked up coming from his overalls was far from pleasant. “Will you quit nagging me if I come, mom?”

“Absolutely buddy.” Mitsuya was chuckling softly, rolling in his chair to pull back up to his sewing table. “See you at 7, doofus.”

Draken wasn’t given the opportunity to snap back with something clever, the phone went dead right away. With a huff Draken resultantly found himself putting his tools away, tucking his overused workbench in its proper corner so he could head off to Mistuya’s.

But not without a shower first.

Draken’s hair was still damp when he headed for Mitsuya’s place. With how fast Draken sped his bike down the freeway, it only took about ten minutes tops. Draken lugged a case of beer with him up to the familiar walkway that belonged to Mitsuya’s townhouse. When he opened the door he still had his work glasses on, a lazy grin tugging on his features when he was met with the sight of Draken’s scowling face.

“Would you look at that, he showered.”

Draken just rolled his eyes, nudging past Mitsuya and making himself at home. The two found themselves quickly situated on the couch, spread out on each end and open beers on coasters. Mitsuya had pulled out his old N64, so the two were currently in a round of Mario kart. The silence had been comfortable between the two, as it usually was until Mitsuay finally decided to speak up.

“So, what's got you fucked up?”

“What?” Draken said with a short laugh, his eyes staying glued to the tv screen.

“You only get all solitary like this when something is really bothering you, so–”

“Nothin’s up, m’good.” Draken simply grunted, which quickly turned into a scowl when Mitusya passed him for first place in the game. “Quit distracting me.”

“Is it Takemichi’s little sister?”

Draken almost choked on his beer, finally looking away from the screen to look at Mitsuya who was still calm as ever. Only after he passed the finish line did he meet Draken’s gaze, one brow lifted up.

“What about her?”

“You were seeing her–”

“I was not.”

Now it was Mitsuya’s turn to laugh, a hearty one too that only made Draken’s brows furrow further. He pulled his glasses from his face, sighing out as he shook his head.

“You think you’re so hard to read, but you’re not.” Mitsuya kept talking before Draken could bark at him. “I know you kept seeing her after that night.”

“Okay, so?” Draken wasn’t sure why he was getting so defensive, maybe it was because it pissed him off that Mitsuya knew him better than he knew himself.

“So, did you two break up?”

“We were never together.” Draken simply stated, going to start another round of Mario kart. But as soon as the words left his lips he hated the way they sounded, and now that they were out there, floating around his head it made him grip his controller a little tighter.

“Oh, you weren’t?” Mitsuya said, that dumb smile of his making Draken shake his head, grit his teeth even. It was Mitsuya’s turn to scoff, tipping his beer back to polish it off. “You are such a fuckin doofus dude.”

“Watch your mouth man–”

“Why are ya doing this to yourself?” Draken sucked in a little breath. The silence hung in the air between them a little and Mitsuya rolled his eyes when he saw how Draken’s head tipped slightly to the side in confusion. He continued as he opened up another beer. “Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? You can do commitment, you’ve done it before.”

Draken felt a little frozen in place, eyes unfocused as he tried to process what Mitsuya had so obviously laid out for him. His heart started to pick up in his chest as he really thought it over, well at least tried to. “Yea, I did it before and look what happened.”

Flashes of his relationship with Emma were impossible to ignore. How things went from wonderful to terrible so quickly. How the two of them became each other's world so fast for it all to crash and burn. The fighting, the lies, how he was so scared after he lost her but to also lose everyone he loved. His found family was all he had, and if they had decided to up and leave–

“Sure, it was a bad breakup,” Mitsuya spoke with a simple shrug of his shoulders, looking at Draken’s pained face over the lip of his bottle. “But it didn’t stay bad, did it?”

“Guess not…” Draken murmured. It didn’t. He didn’t lose his best friends, he didn’t even really lose Emma. After time apart and some growing up, the two had gone back to speaking terms.

“So, let yourself be happy, dude.”

“But she’s another little sister–”

“Yea you have a type.” Mitsuya couldn’t help but laugh, especially after Draken sent his controller flying at him. Mitsuya thankfully caught it, holding a hand up in defence. “Relax! I’m joking… The boys are gonna bug you about it, but Draken, who the fuck cares.”

Draken slowly nodded at that, allowing himself to really think it all over. He had never been the type to care so much about what others thought about him. He was letting himself get in his head for something that was already over and done with. Rubbing his hand over his forehead, he picked up another beer, shaking his head as he twisted the top off to chug some of it down.

“I hate you, you know that?” He mumbled to Mitsuya, which only made him laugh out loud in response. He clinked his bottle up against Draken’s.

“Love you too buddy. You should really make up with her.” Draken eyed Mitsuya over the lip of his beer. “I assume you said some dumb guy shit to her.”

Draken pouted, mumbling something along the lines of “maybe I did” before he took another drink. Looking down the stem of the bottle Draken sighed softly, thinking of that sad smile on your face. It made him scoff at himself. “I just– I’m not sure I’ll be able to treat her right, as her boyfriend.”

“Well, she’s stuck around this long, hasn’t she?” Mitsuya started to set up another game of Mario Kart for the two of them as Draken nodded slowly. “I’m sure if she didn’t think you’d treat her right, she woulda left.”

Those couple words were left lingering in Draken’s head the rest of the evening. Mitsuya didn’t bring it up again, and Draken didn’t dare to. But as he started to pass out on his friend's couch, he had one too many beers to be driving himself home, he really thought over what Mitsuya had said. What he knew was right.

I’m sure if she didn’t think you'd treat her right, she woulda left.

Draken chuckled softly to himself, his palm coming up to slap him right on the forehead. The sting made him hiss to himself, but it's what he deserved. He’d never admit it out loud, but sometimes he wished his brain worked the way Mitsuya’s did.

“I’m such an idiot.” He spoke, and it was Mitsuya sleepy agreeing with him on the couch beside him that had him laughing all over again.

He knew you’d be finishing classes up on campus right now, had picked you up and dropped you off many times before to know that you’d be coming out of the big college building any minute now. He parked right out front, his hands dug deep into his pockets as he watched the door. His eyes scanned over many faces, all different kinds, all of them filtering through, onyx gaze trying to lock onto–

You.

You were in the middle of giggling, those familiar wrinkles showing up around the corners of your eyes, your pretty manicured nails holding the books you had tighter to your chest. The image made him smile fondly, lips upturned just a little when the two of you finally made eye contact.

He was more than grateful that you returned the small smile. The darkest parts of him had conceived him; you'd simply walk right by him, or even turn around in the opposite direction. But instead, you excused yourself from your friends, who all couldn’t help but side-eye the older, imitating dude leaning on a motorcycle, dragon tattoo on full display with his hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. As you approach he speaks, unable to keep his eyes off your own.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Ken.” Just the way you say his name makes his heart flutter a little. He moves to the side, opening up the small compartment on his bike that’ll allow you to put your books inside.

“Come with me?” He asks, and the momentary silence makes him feel more nervous than he had in a long time. You could say no, he could have taken too long. You could have already slipped right out of his fingertips and it would be all his fault–

“Okay.” You simply reply, and your smile doesn’t falter. It stays as you tuck your books away, as he places his helmet on your bread and helps you adjust the straps. You in front of him on the bike just as you had on that first night he picked you up. His hands easily swallowed yours on the handlebars, and before you knew it the two of you were speeding off towards his place. You knew that because the route had become too familiar after the many times he’d whisked you away after school. Your heart was beating fast in your chest like it normally did when you rode on Draken’s bike. It filled you with a type of adrenaline you hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

That and the fact that his hands seemed to be holding yours tighter than usual.

After a couple of sharp turns and uphill roads, you two made it to Draken’s apartment. He gave you your space as you two headed to his room a couple of floors up, his heart seeming to be in his throat. He needed to relax, he knew exactly what he had to say to you, knew what he had to do, and yet as he fiddled with his keys a bit to find the right one that opened his apartment, the familiar scent of your perfume was making his brain a little foggy.

It was the warmth of your fingers that shook him from whatever haze he was in, the tips of his ears feeling a bit hot as your fingers easily tugged the right key, helped him slip it into the lock. “It’s this one, Ken.” You say it as if your presence alone isn’t making him weak at the knees.

He just nodded, allowing you in first. Shoes were slipped off and the two of you found yourself in his kitchen. You stood right in the middle, your arms tucked neatly behind your back, hands clasped. He missed the way you used to make yourself at home, grabbing something from his fridge or sprawling out on his couch.

He wanted you to be that comfortable again.

“I really needed to see you.” He started, his voice a little hesitant. He cleared his throat, fingers once again in his pockets. He looked everywhere but at you, despite the way he felt your gentle gaze burning into him. “I needed, I just–” He huffed. “I really fucked up–”

There was your familiar warmth again, but instead, you were grabbing at one of his hands. So easily your fingers threaded into his, and suddenly the weight in his tummy didn’t feel all that heavy as he looked down at you, those wide pretty eyes he had missed so fucking much. “You did kinda fuck up–” You murmur, which makes him huff again, this time with a hint of laughter behind it. “I know I did. I know.”

He pulled you in a little closer, and he was so very grateful that you weren't resistant. In fact, you melted into his chest, your face finding that familiar comfortable spot against his peck, cheek pressed up against where you felt his heartbeat, which was currently pounding in his chest. He sucks in another breath, one hand coming to gently pet your head. “I’m sorry, I’m real sorry sweetheart…” He feels the way you start to tremble and it eats at him, brows furrowing up. “Please, don’t babygirl, m’tryna apologise to you–”

“Don’t be dumb like that ever again Ken.” Your voice waves and he knows you’re about to cry, but he doesn't stop you from speaking, if anything, your shaky words only make him hold you tighter, a fond smile coming to his lips. “Don’t leave me like that again!” Your voice cracks and Ken has to chuckle under his breath, but there's no bite to his laughter, only fondness. “Next time, just talk to me. I-I know I’m younger and inexperienced b-but I know what I want and that's you–”

That's when he finally stops you, one big palm cupping your cheek. He tilts your head up, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone before he's pressing a smooch to your lips. You both seem to relax against the embrace, and when he feels a salty tear hit his thumb he swipes it away, lips parting from your just enough so he can murmur against them.

“I know, lil love. I know.” When your lower lip trembles a bit a smile breaks out on his lips. One that makes the corner of his lips twitch, little wrinkles showing up around his eyes. His hands cup your neck so gently, thumbs pressing up against the underside of your jaw. He murmurs again, this time his words slurred along with your breathy, soft whimper. “I want you too…”

This time the kiss is desperate, needy. Your fingers turn white at the knuckles when you grip at his shirt, lips moulding against his own. Draken’s tongue is impatient, slithering into your open mouth and reexploring the warm cavern that is your mouth. He huffs when your chest presses flush to him, and with ease his big hands cup your thighs, scooping you into his embrace. Your legs cling to his waist without a thought, the giddy giggle bubbling from your lips and against his own making a bit of blush rise on his cheeks.

Oh, how he missed that sweet, sweet sound.

Draken tries not to trip over himself as he carries you off to his bedroom, his back hitting up against the door at the same time your teeth playfully tug at his bottom lip. He drops you down and the bounce of your body has both of you a little too excited, Draken’s shirt easily coming off as he tugs it up over his head.

“Lemme show you how badly I want you, baby.” His voice has already gotten deeper, and as his big hand comes to cup the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss he’s a bit surprised when both your palms press against his chest, pushing him away an inch.

Surprised and panicked. Was he moving too fast, did you think he was just using you in your vulnerable moment? Had he really fucked up so soon again–

His breath left him in a huff when his back hit the mattress, your body rolling over him. He blinked a few times as you straddled him, palms pressed against his chest and your face heated. He could tell that a flush was working its way up to your cheeks when you looked down at him, your body slowly scooting down from his waist to his hips.

“No, let me s-show you.” Despite just how nervous you were, Draken could tell by the way you chewed on your lower lip, how your fingers trembled a little, undoing his belt and zipper, his cock still twitched with excitement underneath you an odd sense of pride flowing through him.

You had come a long way, from the virgin he met all those months ago. He had just been the biggest idiot and here he was, pushing his hair from his face so he could watch how your pretty little hands handled his semi-hard cock with such care. How you looked at him first, batted your lashes when you leaned in and pressed the sweetest of kisses right to his tip.

“Oh fuck—“

Yea, he was never letting you go again, ever.

You took a deep breath through your nose before taking his tip between your lips, your eyes never leaving his dilated ones. He propped himself up on an elbow, free hand easing the hair away from your face. It was a sight that would be burned into his mind forever. Wide doe eyes, hand barely wrapped around his fat base, pretty lips suckling away at his tip.

“You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me pretty girl.” Draken chuckles breathlessly, and the little glint in your eyes tells him you would have smiled had your lips not been preoccupied. He kept his hand gentle on the back of your head as you slowly took more of him, your tongue flattening out against his underside. His head tilted back in a groan at your steady pace, the warmth of your mouth making his skin prickle with pleasure. His fingers curled in your hair just a bit, enough to hold him back from jerking his hips into you, make you gag–

He’d save it for another time.

“Atta girl…” He murmured, chest rising and falling a little faster as you gained your rhythm. Your eyes peaked up at him again, before you got back into it, cheeks hollowing as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. You reached about halfway, which Draken noticed made your brows furrow up.

“S’okay, we’ve got plenty of time to make it fit, keep going lil love.” He encouraged, and you listened, head continuing to bob faster, sloppier. Draken could feel your drool dribbling down his shaft and onto his balls and it made him shiver. It didn’t help that your ass was up high, practically swaying like an excited little puppy just to be sucking him off. Swearing under his breath a moment as his balls suddenly felt all too tight, he pulled you off his cock, the pornographic pop of your lips making him grunt, you whine. The string of drool connecting your swollen lips to his cock was thick, and when it snapped onto your chin Draken could feel himself getting lightheaded.

“W-Why did you–” He silenced your whining with another fierce kiss, and without hesitation you were manhandled back into his pillows, flat on your back. He has no problem working your soiled panties off your thighs, deciding to just tuck the extra material of your skirt into the waistband “Felt fucking awesome.” Your panties are tossed right over your shoulder, a cute yelp leaving you when he hauls both your thighs up, over his shoulders. “But I wanna cum in this pretty pussy.”

From this position your pussy was split wide open for him, your clit poking out and throbbing from under the hood. He sighed, content, pausing his previous actions to lean in, pressing the softest of kisses right up against your clit.

“My pretty pussy.” His soft touch is gone, replaced with his burning desire to claim you again. A few rubs of his cock against your slicken folds, along with your drool is enough to get his cock wet enough to slip in. His breathing hitches once his head makes it past the tight ring of your muscles, the squeeze vice-like just from the simple intrusion.

“K-Ken–”

“Shh, I know.” He coos, hunching over you. With your thighs on his shoulders, his shifting has you in a mating press, a position that all too knew and is making your head spin. Your tummy folds the closer he gets to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your clit while the other intertwines with the hand you had gripping the sheets close to your head. “S’always gonna be a lil tight, isn’t it babygirl.”

You’re already moaning in a wonton fashion, eyes struggling to stay open as he rocks his cock head in and out, his thumb working at your nub. When your pussy starts fluttering for him he works in a few more inches, needy sounds spilling into each other mouth due to his lips staying inches away from your own. “Gonna take it all f’me? Be my good girl?”

You nod, and when you look at him again your eyes have that familiar glassy sheen he’s grown to love. He kisses you right under the eye before with one good push his cock is all the way inside. The sound you make is downright sinful, something between a cry and a mewl and it has Draken’s cock twitching within the tightness of your cunt. It makes his vision go a little stary, the growl he releases vibrating through his chest.

“Good fucking girl.” The slap of his hips into your ass resounds throughout the room, squelching soon coming from between your bodies. In this position his cock nuzzles your sweet spot, seeming to reach down deep, into parts of you that you didn’t even realise existed, and it quickly has you falling apart, babbles freely spilling from your lips, tears wetting your hot cheeks. Draken is quick to kiss them away, his fingers tightening around yours as he puffs hot pants along your face.

“D-Deep~!” You manage to squeak, and Draken has to crack a grin, his hips suddenly stopping their brutal pace just so he can roll them instead. That had you gasping, drool spilling from your hung lips as you look up at him with a gaze that's already beyond fucked out. “S’real deep baby, s’good though yea?”

You nod, fresh tears on your lashes. “Only the best for my baby.” He utters, hips switching back and forth between rutting and grinding. He’s convinced you’ve already cum on his cock, the amount of slick bubbling around his shaft and the tightness of your walls are his hints, but he keeps going, needing to fill you up after so long. Despite your cries, he brings his hand back to your clit, his rubs becoming sloppy. He only releases your hand to cup the back of your neck instead, keeping your foreheads pressed together.

“Eyes on me, lil love.” You do manage to open your teary eyes, meeting his dilated pupils. “Good, good girl.” His body starts to twitch, broad shoulders rippling and his thighs starting to tremble as his own release quickly builds in his gut. “I– fuck. Baby, I love you, pretty–”

And despite just how dumbed out you were moments before, those words seem to bring some clarity to your eyes. Your fingers tangle into his sweaty hair, gripping it at the roots for your sanity. The pleasant little laugh you let out and breathe against his lips makes his heart jump against his ribcage.

“I love y-you Ken, love you so much, Kenny–”

His climax hits him hard, the full-body chill he experiences making goosebumps rise along his spine as he fills you up. The feeling of his warm, thick cum is enough to have you coming undone right along with him, the sensation being yet another new one when liquid seems to gush past your little hole. It makes Draken’s balls tighten up instantly, the warm splash of your arousal onto his fingers that still gently coax pleasure out of your clit. And he can’t help but grin, a boyish grin that quickly turns into a grunt. “Fuck, fuckin squirtin on me, how cute.”

He doesn’t pull out, he can’t. He needs to be close to you, keep your limp body tucked carefully underneath him. You’re too far in to even notice the mess, your whines and whimpers dwindling down into soft breaths as he turns to his side, keeping you in his chest. His cock slowly softens in your walls, and even then, Draken’s keeps you glued to him as you both come down, tremors and pants still coming over both of you.

“Sweetheart.” He murmurs, face nuzzling up against your temple. When he gets a whine in return he holds you closer, careful to ease your face away from his chest so he can cover your tear-streaked face in kisses. “You’re okay, my baby…”

Draken is usually more responsible than this. Then to let you two doze off without a proper clean-up. But feeling your soft heartbeat against his, your fingers still lost in his hair, your lips pressed right up into the crook of his neck and puffing soft air, he just couldn't bring himself to let go. He didn’t want to let go now, or ever. Keeping you here, wrapped in his embrace, he was certain that you’d be there tomorrow morning too, with that beautiful smile he had fallen stupidly, hopelessly, in love with.

Fuck it. He was taking on the little sister fucker title with pride.

“Kenny, your hand is sweaty.” You murmur, trying to hold back your laughter when he shoots you a glare, pulling his hand away from you and dramatically rubbing it along his jeans.

“Fine, just won’t hold your hand, brat” He grumbles, and that sets you over, wrapping your arms around him mid-walk to press small kisses along his collar bones.

Draken hadn’t felt this nervous ever, in his entire life (this was a lie, he’s just dramatic as ever). The two of you were only steps away from your place, the same place you and Takemichi lived in together. Everyone was there, the entire found family, and you two were now official…

He was getting flashbacks of the group chat, his friend's ruthless behaviour, the way Takemichi hadn’t talked to him for one whole week, and the sweet satisfaction Baji got when he got one free punch to his jaw for Takemichi’s sake.

“Maybe we can tell them next week, or over a call. Whattya think lil love,” Draken murmured, his face hiding in your hairline. Your sweet laughter sent that familiar warmth through his chest, and one good tug on his hand had him reluctantly walking back towards the house. “You’ll be fine.” You say with a smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “We’re gonna do it together.”

When you hopped up onto the front step, Draken’s eyes trailed down to the sweet dangling sound that was the anklet looped around your ankle. The gold one, with his initials, right where it belonged. The sight had him calming a little, brows furrowed in the way they usually did when he became focused. “Right, together.”

“Michi-nii!” You call out once the two of you enter the house, the sound of music and chatter already filling the front entrance. Draken holds your hand a little tighter as if he had been entering a place he’d never been before.

“Living room!” Takemichi calls out, surrounded by founding members of toman, each huddled around the kotatsu table that was covered in snacks, beers, and cards. Oddly enough the chatter died down as Takemichi was dealing out for another round, a laugh leaving his lips.

“You guys gonna take this round seriously–” It was Mikey’s elbow into his ribs that silenced him, a little puff escaping his lungs. He was about to complain when his eyes were brought to what everyone seemed to be staring at.

And that was you, beaming smile and all, with your hand held tightly by Draken’s, who couldn't seem to make eye contact with anyone.

“Hi Michi~ Hi everyone! What are ya–”

“Finally.” Mitsuya was the first to mutter, leaning back further into his spot on the couch. “Chifuyu, you owe me 20 bucks, told you they’d come out today.”

“No fair!” Chifuyu blurted out, grumbling when he reluctantly pulled bills from his pocket. Pah and Peh were the first to start laughing, clinking their beers together.”

“Wait, you knew? How?” Mikey questioned Mitsuya, who triumphantly took the money from Chifuyu with a laugh of his own. Kazutora was even starting to crack up, hiding his smirk behind his beer.

And despite all the commotion, Takemichi sat dumbfounded, eyes glued to yours and Draken’s intertwined hands. When he did finally speak, it only made the group that much rowdier.

“Well, what the fuck is this–”

“Time for another punch,” Baji said with that signature grin of his, basically hoping from his spot on the couch.

“Wait wait!” You said, your pout only stirring the pot further. “No one is punching anyone! We’re–”

“We are dating,” Draken said, eyes a bit narrowed as he spoke. “We’re dating, Takemichi, I wanna date your sister, and I’m gonna.”

There was another round of silence in the room, but it didn’t last, not when Pah mumbled under his breath.

“Classic sister fucker–”

“Well, you could have at least asked first?!” Takemichi was dramatic as ever, tears swelling up in his eyes at the thought of his precious little sister being tarnished by the big, mean, scary man that was Draken. He let go of your hand then, being just as dramatic as Takemichi if not more so “I did ask, I just asked in front of everyone.”

“But you’re already dating, have been a while no…?” Classic Mitsuya, stirring the pot and making everyone act up yet again.

“Now why would you say that you ass–”

“C’mon Michi, I’ll punch him again for you, one good punch like last time–” Baji was punching at the air for emphasis.

“Sister fucker behaviour,” Peh said with a shake of his head, only making Pah laugh harder.

And amidst the bickering and nonsense that always seemed to break out between the boys, you took a seat next to Mikey, taking the Taiyaki he had to offer you with a little huff. He noticed the anklet, observant as ever as you rolled your eyes when Takemichi actually started crying, something about you losing your innocence.

“He’ll treat you right.” You looked at Mikey, who spared you a small smile and a pat on the head. “Draken–”

“I know!” You responded happily, eyeing him as he held Baji back, the nerves he was feeling earlier long gone. You took a bite of the Taiyaki and giggled.

“I can’t wait to be with him, forever!”

property of kenslilove, do not copy, repost, translate, or move onto any other platform!!

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irisintheafterglow · 7 months

Text

Parley? (opla!zoro x you)

summary: a stranger arrives to disturb your peace and you have no choice but to negotiate with him.

wc: 2.57k

cw/tags: first meeting, swearing, mentions of canon-typical violence including blood and swords, zoro doesn't know how to express his feelings

note: i'm so nervous posting this ngl because i really like zoro as a character but i'm scared that i'm not gonna do him justice since i don't know him as well as gojo or geto or bakugo etc etc etc. hopefully all yall zoro girlies like this because i've been itching to write for him since my explore page became nothing but mackenyu. enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

You hear the chimes first. The melody is soft, nearly imperceptible to the untrained ear, but you sense it. After all, you were the one who tied the string under the walkway floorboards in such a way that the bells above your window would clink if something pressed down on the wood. Over time, you learned to identify where outside was being pushed based on more strings and bells. It made it easier to find the Lady, on the rare occasion she stepped into open air and you weren’t with her. However, whoever was now setting off your makeshift alarm system had footsteps unlike the usual occupants of the house. The quietness of the notes was unsettling, in a way, because it meant they were creeping around the house. Someone didn’t want to be heard.

It was the flowers next, the roses with uniquely reflective petals that were especially good at bouncing moonlight precisely through your window. The Lady commented one day in the market that she’d taken a liking to that particular flower, and you bought the vendor’s entire stock to plant around the house once you realized how it could be used. Not before you built a crow’s nest-like window, first. The glass structure jut out of the house in just the right way that you received colors from the left, right, and front of the house. Had an intruder approached from the back, your only blindspot, you would hear the more insistent clicks of the typewriter keys attached to the outside deck panels. The nearly noiseless bells and the ominous shadow sneaking across your wall were enough to snap you wide awake.

The soles of your feet meet cool stone as you slide from under the covers, wrapping the sheath of your saber around your waist and slipping out of your bedroom. Despite the darkness of the hallway, your legs move by memory to the Lady’s chambers only to find the door already ajar.

Shit. Were you too late?

Slinking into the room in one graceful stride, words leave your mouth without thinking when you see him standing over your Lady, holding two deadly-looking swords.

“Taking a life halfway gone is immoral no matter the bounty, pirate hunter.” His head snaps in your direction and you have your blade on him before he can blink, resting the point lightly but threateningly against his throat. His eyes narrow on you challengingly and you put ever so slightly more pressure into your hilt, forcing him to surrender and sheath both swords. The third, you note, remains undrawn on his hip. “No better targets to pursue than a retiree? I expected better from the demon of the East Blue.” His gaze remains unchanging while you step forward, inching him backward until his head hits the wall with a soft thud. You were thankful, for once, that the Lady was starting to lose her hearing and was always a deep sleeper.

“She’s wanted,” he says in a low tone.

“She’s withered,” you retort. “Killing her advances justice no more than leaving her alive.” His face is still unreadable, void of any emotions just as the rumors conveyed. Many tales circulated of the infamous pirate hunter, but you chose to believe the Lady to be far too irrelevant to pose any real threat to the Marines. As one of the last known powerhouses of the Gold Roger era, it was more likely her wanted poster would be drowned out amongst younger hotshot pirates than for her to become an actual target. And yet, here was the most feared bounty hunter in the seas, hunting down a myth that many assumed was already six feet under. And for what, fun?

“It doesn’t matter. Honor is a courtesy denied to killers.” He speaks in a way like you wouldn’t understand his ideas, and it sends a white-hot flash of anger racing through your veins.

“Ooh, yes. You’re being so honorable by julienning a defenseless old woman while she sleeps.” To your surprise, he flinches, unwillingly bringing your eyes to corded muscle and flexed biceps. It’s a bit of a struggle to refocus on the task at hand. “Enlighten me on how this makes you feel vindicated.”

“I kill pirates for a living,” he states simply, nodding over to the slumbering mass under the thick comforter. The tip of your sword follows every movement he makes, careful not to give him an opening to strike. Unexpectedly, he seems almost relaxed, like the weapon at his throat was the least of his worries. “That woman is a pirate.”

“That woman was a pirate. She is no longer the ‘Captain Indigo’ you seek.”

“Who is she now, then?”

“Lady Lavender, adored by her constituents and far removed from a life of piracy. If I weren’t on the verge of spilling your organs on the carpet, I’d say visit the farmer’s market on Tuesdays. You’ll see just how different her life is now.” His chin tilts in disagreement.

“The Marines say otherwise.”

“What do you say?” A minute tilt of your wrist angles your saber so that the point now resides under his sharply defined jawline. “Hmm, hunter? Any opinions in that thick skull of yours or are you just another mindless government weapon?”

“You understand nothing,” he mutters like an indignant teenager, looking off to the side woefully. It makes your blood boil.

“Try me,” you snarl at the green-haired stranger. In another life, you’d have thought him pretty handsome, if you weren’t so infuriated by his indifferent sense of justice. He knew nothing about you, or the Lady, or what either of you had to endure to create a sense of safety. Safety, you would add, that you weren’t going to give up easily.

“This woman you serve, what are you to her? A caretaker? A child?”

“A friend,” you answer cautiously. “Something your line of work would know nothing about.”

“The Marines know that your friend murdered the former governor and seized the island in an act of desperation,” he informs you with a note of condescension. “They’ve wanted her gone for ten years, and I am here to collect her head. It’s not personal; it’s business.” The incorrectness of his information is laughable, but what concerns you more is the ease with which he talks of taking lives.

“You don’t feel any sort of remorse for the targets you kill?” The anger in your stomach starts to rub against a different, unwanted influx of sorrow. After witnessing the change in a ruthless pirate empress, you refused to believe a human could be this heartless.

“I don’t dwell on them long enough to care. Most of the time, they do something stupid that makes it a little easier to dispose of them.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong about her,” you recover, pressing the blade against his skin on the brink of drawing blood. He winces, squirming against the wallpaper for some sort of relief. You don’t budge. “The former mayor was a half-brother whom she reconnected with after Gold Roger’s execution. His death was caused by a misdosage of medicine used to treat hemorrhoids he’d suffered with since he was twenty. On his deathbed, he made her promise to take care of this city...” You inhale, focusing on the man in front of you. His expression is soft, nothing like you would have expected from a feared killer-for-hire. He was actually listening to you.

“Go on.”

“And to take care of me. I have the great pirate hunter at the end of my blade, so she must not have done that bad of a job at either request.” He’s silent for a moment and you watch the cogs turn in his brain, hoping he’d find some humanity and realize that killing the Lady isn’t just pointless, it’s fundamentally wrong.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I need money.” Nevermind, then. Backup plan it is.

“I understand that,” you concede, and you remove your weapon from his neck. His hands are on the hilts of his swords instantly, but he doesn’t draw them. He could kill both you and the Lady in a single swing, but he doesn’t. Maybe you did reach a different side of him. “That's why I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

“I don’t make deals with pirat–” he starts, but abruptly cuts himself off when you raise your eyebrows in expectation. Did you not learn anything from what I just told you? His face contorts in confusion, as if his mind was at odds with what his body was telling him to do. After carefully schooling his expression into blankness, he stands to his full height, rolling a broad shoulder. “What’s the deal?”

“You’re aware of the Blue Ringed crew, yes?”

“Famous for their poisons, I’ve heard,” he confirms and you nod. “They cover every inch of their ship in toxins and wear special clothing to prevent contact with their skin. Makes it hard to sneak up on them.”

“Exactly. See, you’re not as uneducated as you look,” you tease and you feel your face heat when he sticks his tongue out at you. It’s so boyish and immature, in stark contrast to the handsome, god-bodied man that faces you. “I happen to have a counteragent, enough for you to get on their ship and collect three times the amount if you killed us tonight.”

“And what would you get in return?”

“The sound of your boots walking off the property and never returning,” you whisper a little desperately, pleading with him to leave your perfect peace intact and forget this altercation ever happened. The quiet in the room as he ponders your offer is suffocating save for the gentle snores of Lady Lavender. Eventually, he takes your deal, inspecting the powder-filled vial when you bring it to him on the front porch.

“How do I use it if it’s powder?”

“Mix it with lotion to help soak it faster into your skin. When your skin is dry, you’ll have roughly an hour to navigate the boat completely immune to the poison. It’s sweat resistant but will wash off with seawater, so take care not to get thrown overboard,” you instruct him, crossing your arms across your chest against the chilly ocean air blowing in from the south. It was breezier than normal and you regret not grabbing a sweater. Unless you wanted to freeze your ass off, you needed to finish this debacle quickly. “Kill the pirates, get your bounty, and leave us the hell alone. Deal?”

“Fine by me.” He carefully places the vial in the pocket of his pants and begins his descent down the front walkway. Before you can turn back into the house, however, his voice reaches your ears so lightly you think you’d hallucinated it. “Stay warm.”

He doesn’t end up keeping his side of the deal. A few days after your initial altercation, he approaches the house again in broad daylight holding a box about the size of your hand. You stare at him in disbelief, reading in the nook of your window and he has the audacity to smirk at you when he spots you looking.

“I thought we had a deal, pirate hunter,” you remind him when you open the front door of the house. It was infuriating how good he looked for having just returned from a pursuit, dressed up in fine fabrics with his hair combed back nicely. The irony was palpable, the situation not unlike the stories the Lady told you about the numerous men who attempted to court her. They appeared at the same front door with flowers, rubies, and promises of devotion, but none of them actually wanted her heart. In contrast, you wanted to stab the heart of the idiot in front of you.

“Stop calling me that,” he frowns and you can’t help the laugh that leaves your mouth. “My name is Roronoa Zoro–”

“Oh, sorry,” you interject and his eyebrows furrow at your lack of manners. “Am I just supposed to act like you’re my friend now? After you tried to kill my boss?”

“I thought we were past that,” he states bluntly.

“That was four days ago.”

“It’s enough time to move on.”

“You’re impossible.” You shake your head in disbelief, slightly puzzled at the giddy feeling in your chest when the faintest smile appears on his face. “What’s that?” You gesture to the rosewood box in his fingers.

“Consider it an apology,” he says, holding out the box for you to take, “for bothering you the other night.”

“How chivalrous.” You eye the box warily, still unsure about the enigmatic bounty hunter before you. “But we don’t need nor want your money.”

“It’s not money. Just open the damn box,” he grunts impatiently and you begrudgingly oblige, sliding back the top panel to reveal a bracelet. It wasn’t like any other bracelet you’d seen before, a gold chain garnished with a single deep green emerald barely the size of your pinky fingernail. It was delicate and elegant, subtle enough not to draw attention but luxurious enough to make you feel spoiled. “Do you like it?”

“I do, actually. The color is pretty,” you reply slowly, still slightly in shock. “Why green?”

“Take a wild guess.” He smirks again and your gaze flicks up to his hair. It was just as vibrant as the gemstone and he watched you carefully as the pieces clicked into place. With the bracelet, you’d be forced to think of him every time you looked at it or anything the color green. What kind of guy buys a momento for almost killing you, you had no idea.

“You didn’t need to bring me this. I thought the deal was–”

“I remember what the deal was, but I felt bad making you stand outside shivering while you explained how the counteragent functioned.” Your eyes widen slightly at his admission. He noticed you reacting to the wind, so how intensely was he watching you that night? If he sees your surprise, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to explain why he brought you the gift in the first place. “The powder worked, by the way. I snagged this from the captain’s chambers on my way out.”

“You stole this because you saw me get cold?” He merely shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“I mean, yeah. You looked miserable.”

“I was miserable.” He smiles slightly again, the corner of his mouth quirking in amusement. It makes your heart stutter against your wishes. “Does this mean we’re even now, pirate hunter?”

“Call me Zoro and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“You’ll consider it?”

“Holding a sword to someone’s throat is a major transgression that can’t be forgiven so easily,” he taunts and you roll your eyes. “Let me start over, meet you properly without the involvement of weapons.”

“You really want to see me again?” He scoffs at your question as if the answer wasn't crystal clear.

“What, bringing you a bracelet wasn’t obvious enough? I’ll have to bring the entire ship next time. Might take a little longer to get back to you.”

“Get off my porch, Roronoa Zoro,” you laugh, reaching out to push his shoulder away and feeling every inch of his skin against your fingers in the brief moment your bodies touch. “Don’t come back unless you have something important to say.”

“I think you’ll soon find out what I prioritize as important.”

#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #opla x reader #opla x you #opla x y/n #opla!zoro x you #opla!zoro x reader

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bellarkeselection · 4 months

Note

for cole walter, could you do one where reader replaces jackie (so her fam died and she moved in with the walter’s) and cole doesn’t really like her. one day she gets a cold, and cole takes care of her (begrudgingly) and realizes she isn’t so bad 🫶🏼🥹

Cole Walter Does Care

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun

I rolled over in my bed and felt a headache coming on the second I woke up which really sucked. Slowly sitting up I thought I would feel better that only seemed to make it worse. My nose was beginning to get stuffy and my throat felt dry. Footsteps came from the hallway and I heard whoever it was pause outside my door. “Hey Y/n, my mom is making breakfast. Woah you don’t look too good.”

“Thanks Alex - uh I didn’t know that.” I started coughing and then reached over needing to blow my nose into some tissues.

He entered my room with a sad expression. “I can get my mom to check you out if you want.”

“Please do.” I whimpered, sounding so helpless tugging the covers back over my chest.

He nodded, rushing out of the room and going downstairs to go get her. “On it, Y/n.” Once he was gone I yanked the coves over my head screaming and coughing into my blankets.

“Sounds like there’s a dying angry animal in here. Oh no sorry it’s just you Y/n.” I noticed the voice of Cole who when I peaked my head above the blanket saw that he was leaning in my doorway.

Grumbling under my breath I really wasn’t in the mood for his teasing. “Go away Cole. I’m not feeling good and you’ll just make it worse.”

“Ah now I’m offended since most people find my company to be quite enjoyable.” He walked into my bedroom sitting down on the side of my bed moving the cover down from my eyes so he could see some of my face.

“Well I d-don’t-“ I attempted to say but another coughing fit had to hit me right before his mother and Alex came back into my bedroom.

Catherine sat down and pushed Cole off the bed, putting a hand to my forehead. “Oh you're burning up. You'll just have to stay in bed today and miss the fair.”

“Okay Skylar and Tara won't be happy.” I responded in a tired breath.

She shakes her head eyeing her older son. “I'm sure they'll understand honey. Cole, I need you to stay and take care of her.”

“What the hell!” He raised his voice, accidentally cursing at his mother.

I sat upright on the pillows but had a coughing fit as a result. “No! He doesn't need to be here…”

“This is not up for discussion. Y/n you are really sick and Cole you will be staying home to take care of her. Because you're grounded after we found out you were sneaking girls out of the house. Come on, Alex.” She got to her feet and she left with Alex following her downstairs leaving us alone in my bedroom together.

Laying my head back down on the pillows I yanked the covers over my head screaming into it until Cole made a comment. “Don't think I'm happy about this either.”

“Oh sure. I'm sorry my illness prevented you from hooking up with Erin or Olivia or Paige!” I snapped at him.

His green eyes glared at me. “You don't have the right to judge my life.”

“Neither do you about me then!” I growled turning my back towards him.

Cole watched me for a little while hearing me doze off for a few hours of sleep. He sure found you annoying at times but there was something about you that he liked. It was the fact that you fought with him over the most ridiculous stuff. Most girls just fell at his beck and call except you. He walked around the room noticing a notebook laying on the desk. “Y/n's diary…hmm. I can't deny that I may have feelings for Cole even though he drives me nuts.” He debated reading it but when he flipped to one of the middle he heard you groan waking up.

“Cole, I'm gonna puke.” I moaned, struggling to get out from under the blankets.

He dropped the book rushing over to me, he put one arm underneath my shoulder and the other under the back of my knees carrying me through the door and across to the bathroom on this floor. “I've got ya…I've got ya.” He reassured me when I collapsed onto my knees puking in the toilet.

I felt one of his hands holding my hair back and the other was rubbing my back till I was finished. “Thanks Cole…”

“You’re welcome. See I'm not a total asshole.” He responded sitting across from me on the floor. His honey blonde hair was tossed and in his eyes like always.

Hugging my knees to my chest, my hair was a wreck and my nose was red. I looked like a complete mess and I didn't care for it one bit. His green eyes remained on me before I asked him not to handle the silence well. “If you wanna say something to me just go on and get it out, Walter.”

“I read part of your diary after you fell asleep. I know how you feel about me and honestly I'm shocked given how I've treated you.” He shrugged his shoulders like it was just a casual thing to say to someone.

I raised my voice in frustration grabbing a tissue when I had to sneeze two or three times. “You read my diary! Cole, you have no right to that. How much did you read - god I want to crawl in a hole now I'm so embarrassed.” Covering my face that was red as a tomato avoiding his gaze.

“Aren't you going to ask me how I felt about it?” Cole questioned with a curious look on his face.

Knitting my brows at the former star football player. “You’re telling me you have a crush on me. Yeah right. I'll believe it in another universe.”

“Do you believe me when I do this?” He shifted onto his knees coming closer to me.

Lifting my head up he cut my question off. “What are you doing-” His lips landed right on mine. Cole scooted closer and placed his hands on either side of my face. I wanted to push him away because I was sick and two because he shouldn't even couldn’t really be kissing me now.

Trailing my hands up his chest my arms wrapped around his neck and he moaned into the kiss after we had gotten closer. Cole tugged me up to sit down on his lap wrapping his arms around my waist holding me close to his chest as possible. “Cole, stop - Cole stop. We can’t be doing this.” Pushing my hands on his chest he drew back confused.

“Because you're sick. I don't care about that. I just needed you to know that I actually care about you, Y/n.” He declared still cupping my face on his hands green eyes so focused on me.

Moving one hand through his honey hair, my other drops to his shoulder blade. “I can't believe it, Cole Walter has a crush on me. Here I was thinking you hated me.” I chuckled with a half grin.

“Why did you think I only picked on you when you first got here. I figured you had a thing for bad guys in you somewhere. Just had to bring it out of ya, darling.” Cole tucked hair behind my ear before he could hear a lot of footsteps heading up the wooden stairs outside the shut bathroom door.

“What do we - uh do!” I sneezed where Cole gave me a tissue and I wiped my nose watching him get to his feet.

He scooped me up bridal style once more where I wrapped my arms around his neck enjoying the feeling of being in his arms like this. “Don't worry, we'll go to my room. They all know better than to go in there…now where we're we?” He carried me quickly out and into his room, closing and locking the door.

“Cole, I'm nowhere near ready for that kind of thing. Sorry if that disappoints you.” I apologize for crawling under the covers on his bed, blushing a deep shade of red.

He kicked off his shoes and got in beside me, gently pushing my head down in the crock of his neck so I would fall asleep. “I don't care about sleeping with you yet. I just wanted to see you blush.”

“Cole!” I punched his chest hearing him laugh and it was music to me considering he rarely ever laughs.

He kissed the crown of my head and watched my eyes begin to close shut. “I'm just playing with ya, Y/n. Now get some rest.” I closed my eyes and looped my hand with his freehand that wasn't playing with hair to make me dose off in his arms.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

#cole walter x reader #cole x reader #cole walter #noah lalonde #mlwtwb #my life with the walter boys #horse ranch #sick reader #taking care of sick person #ask box is open for anything #comments really appreciated #requests are open #alex walter #netflix #jackie howard

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astonmartinii · 1 year

Note

if you’re down to do it i’d love a part 2 to opposites attract with mick 👀

opposites attract part two | mick schumacher social media au

part one

masterlist

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

both beloved and feared in the paddock, y/n y/ln will defend her bf until the end, no matter who it is.

(hope you all enjoy 🫡 i love this pairing)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, mickschumacher and 477,034

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername: chat shit, get banged

view all 85,349 comments

user49 so. fucking. iconic

mickschumacher i love you, thank you for defending our family

yourusername always <3

user99 hold on a second... our family??? we engaged?

user53 it's probably just a phrase bestie let's not get too crazy

charles_leclerc i'm so scared of you

yourusername good - you want me to swing at ferrari?

user45 truly the ride or die we all need in our lives

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 882,309 others

mickschumacher: family is everything ❤️

view all 83,012 comments

user49 the fact that he considers y/n family is so so cute

yourusername awww mickey !! i love you guys so much, i'd do anything for y'all xx

gina_schumacher love you all ❤️

mercedesamgf1 family 💜

user23 i'm so glad mick has someone like y/n on his side, not only defending him always but also his family xx

f1wagsupdates

liked by mickschumacher, user45 and 1,089 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: y/n y/ln makes her first appearance in the paddock since her incident with the paparazzi. she joined mick in the mercedes garage for the weekend - we're glad she's back !!

view all comments

user33 lmao mick in the likes he's down so bad

user88 finally some good fucking food

user21 ahhhh did y'all see ted fucking flinch when he saw her i'm glad they all know what a bad bitch she is and she'll call anyone's ass out

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, jackdoohan and 721,450 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername: let's rideeeeee or whatever charli xcx said

view all 112,875 comments

user37 war is over y/n is back in the paddock i missed her so much

mickschumacher gonna make it bring your gf to work day every race from now on

yourusername sounds good to me i love the merc catering so much better than haas

user44 LMAO SHE STILL GOT THE DIG IN

estebanocon omg besties back in the paddock

yourusername este bestie !!!! i've missed you and elena need to do something asap xx

liked by mickschumacher, danielricciardo and 330,671 others

f1: host martin brundle has picked up an illness during the weekend and has chosen y/n y/ln, internet personality and host, to take over his hosting responsibilities on race day 🏁

view all 72,109 comments

user56 i love how they don't mention that she's with mick and that she is a host by trade

mickschumacher i know she'll be the best replacement ever ❤️

yourusername awwww thank you babe xxx

user48 i know this is gonna be the most chaotic grid walk ever

user11 but she'll defo ask the questions we all want to know the answer to cause this ain't her full time job who cares if sky don't like it

danielricciardo can't wait to watch it all unfold

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 541,098 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: what a weekend for the team, but also for us!! my baby made her grid walk debut and killed it xx i love you and am so so proud of you 💘

view all 83,451 comments

user34 will it ever be my turn

user41 i confess - i think i have a parasocial relationship with these two

user78 me and you bestie

estebanocon ahhhh she was great!!

lancestroll as the kids say i think she slayed 💅

yourusername teehee thank you guys

gina_schumacher doing us all proud!!

yourusername ahhh thank you gina 💛

yourusername added to their story

[caption: getting the goods for a certain someone's birthday bash]

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 1,203,455 others

yourusername: i didn't know we had this many friends - sorry switzerland 😞

view all 223,078 comments

danielricciardo i'm never going to another party with you I AM SCARRED

maxverstappen1 you have impressive planning skills - are you open for bookings?

mickschumacher thank you very much baby (you can deal with the noise complaints)

sebastianvettel so this is what we could hear

charles_leclerc you guys are weak - i had a great time, thanks y/n and happy birthday mick !!

estebanocon i love you guys but i wish i wasn't so close to you guys how are we still cleaning up ?

yourusername because we need to make sure things are properly recycled @sebastianvettel

sebastianvettel good good (you don't have to impress me i already love you and mick together)

yourusername thank you for the validation seb

mickschumacher LESS TALKING MORE RECYCLING

mickschumacher

liked by gina_schumacher, estebanocon and 1,340,234 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thank you for the best birthday ever babygirl! while the party is something i'll never forget, just being able to spend time with you and the rest of our family was the best thing ever. also prize for best birthday gift ever goes to you for tony the goat, i love him and the fact you got him for and i quote "to remind me of my dad and me in the future". i love you and our growing farm family

view all 301,011 comments

user48 A GOAT FOR HIS BIRTHDAY? TO REMIND HIM OF MICHAEL? FOR MICK BEING THE GOAT IN THR FUTURE? I LOVE THEM

estebanocon can't wait to meet the little guy

yourusername i love you baby - you deserve everything !!! @mercedesamgf1 paddock pass for tony when

mercedesamgf1 happy birthday mick! we're on it 🫡 (admin is scared of you)

user39 omg pls grid walk with tony would be so iconic

charles_leclerc so there was a goat at mick's house i just thought i was really drunk

sebastianvettel welcome to the farm dad life mick - happy birthday x

#f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher x you

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keyotos · 9 months

Text

the only exception

summary ⎯ where blade thinks there is no more hope for love, but you may be the only exception.

tags ⎯ soft blade. mentions of blade's past. reader uses his real name (yingxing) like once on accident. emotional rollercoaster. blade goes through the 5 stages of grief except its not grief it's love. blade is bad at feelings.

tana's thoughts ⎯ gave into the voices and i starting writing this.

the xianzhou is not like it used to be, yet it has not changed that much either. at least, that's what blade noticed as he stood by one of the railings at starskiff haven. he watched the starskiffs come and go as he stood there, motionless.

he had a cup of tea from the tea parlor nearby. some customers wanted him to engage in tea discourse with them because he was an "outworlder," but with one glare from him, they knew better than to press on. so now, he was alone in the dark with sunglasses on.

starskiffs seemed to improve throughout the years. his favorite snack stand was gone, one he used to visit with you. blade tried to ignore the burning sensation in the middle of his chest at the thought. but the stupid mungbean soda vending machines were still there. damn them, he thought.

blade took off his sunglasses momentarily as he rubbed his eyes. sunglasses were obviously meant to be worn in the sun, not in the dark: they were causing him eye strain. he tried to be as subtle as possible, not trying to attract any cloud knights or realm-keeping employees. his face was still on a wanted poster, after all.

"ahem."

blade turned back to find a cloud knight with a mung bean soda in their hand. his mind instantly turned to you, given that you were also a cloud knight who loved mung bean soda (unless that changed as well), but he snapped back to the current situation. he was about to be arrested. the cloud knight cornered him, spear in hand as they slightly lifted up their helmet to take a sip out of their drink.

have cloud knights gotten sloppier? why are they drinking soda when they were about to arrest someone? blade furrowed his eyebrows, but still got into a defensive position.

he was about to swing at the cloud knight until they held their hands up in surrender, "woah, dude," they slowly said, raising their hands up, "i'm not gonna arrest you," they placed their mung bean soda on the railing, and removed their hat.

and it was you. he was just thinking about you, and you appeared. the sight felt surreal. you, who he had been so close with all those years ago. you, who became his first friend on the luofu. you, who still lingered in his mind after all these years, who he thought about even when the mara was affecting him.

you've changed. though you haven't exactly aged, you look older. you look exhausted; your face didn't glow as it used to. blade thinks he is partial to blame for that. your posture is profoundly straight and no longer slouched⎯something you used to struggle with.

the wind blows through your hair, scattering some leaves around with it. your expression is neutral as you throw all your armor on the ground and dust yourself off. there is no smile adorning your face. everything feels so identical, but so different.

his stance softened, but he didn't let up. when you saw that, you only sighed in response. after kicking some stray pieces of armor to the side, you lean your back on the rail as you sipped your soda. the sound of the armor colliding together on the floor made blade cringe.

"i don't actually wear armor, by the way," you swung the drink in his vicinity, offering him a sip using a hand gesture. when he didn't respond, you took another swig. "i have my own uniform. pretty cool, isn't it?" you tilt your head down towards your outfit.

blade doesn't understand. why were you speaking to him as if you two were still friends? could you recognize him under the glasses? it has been so long, he'd be surprised if you recognized him at all.

blade tries to maintain his cover. he is silent while you raise an eyebrow inquisitively, wondering why this stranger wasn't responding to you. you're waiting for him to speak, blade notices. he doesn't say anything. you tilt your head to the side, and blade tilts his head the other way.

you sigh, "you know, not many people are out here so late," you sip out of your soda can, looking at blade while he looks at the starskiffs. you continue, "an old friend of mine used to do this. we'd go out every night and create elaborate stories about strangers, and then stare at starskiffs."

you're telling blade about himself. or, his past self anyway. there's a present ache in his heart, hearing how you speak about him. blade feels like an imposter, standing here with sunglasses on while you talk about him. you sound melancholic, like you miss him. a stupid thing for you, blade thought.

"he's gone now," you turned and leaned forward, now watching the starskiffs with blade. he gets a sense of deja vu, and the feeling sends chills all over his body. you rest your head on your arms on the rail, "i miss him though. he was a little awkward, but he was kind."

"and sometimes," you turn your head towards blade, "he was a little annoying. like he would keep hating on my soda," you hold your soda up to blade, but all he could think about was how you just called him annoying, "or he'd force me to go to bed early. coddle me. nag at me to do my laundry⎯that was very annoying. like, hello? i'm an adult, i could totally do my own laundry," you ranted as you watched the starskiffs.

"maybe you should've done your laundry earlier," he mumbled to himself. he made sure it was low enough that only he would be able to hear it. if you noticed, you didn't say anything; you were still focused on the starskiffs passing by.

blade takes the time to look at you. to study you. it felt like everything about you was so different, but you were still the same. you still chatted about anything to strangers (something he always chided you about). you still drank mung bean soda. you didn't have that growth spurt you dreamed about.

but you were quieter. ironic, because you just jabbered about the annoyances blade had caused you years ago. but you didn't give out too many details. you didn't mouth off about what tea parlor was best, or recent gossip from earlier. you kept things to yourself. blade doesn't know if he should be happy or not.

something was off. there was a wall between you now. and it felt so wrong. blade knows he isn't entitled to anything⎯not anymore, at least. but the feeling of disconnect between two people who were once rooted together physically pained him. even with everything that has happened, he did not want to see you like this.

"i hope he visits soon," you look at him with eyes that glitter among the stars. you're still hopeful; that has not changed. you speak like the sun is shining in your body, and your words are laced with warmth that eases enough for blade to let his guard down. that's when he realized that you're still glowing, and you never stopped.

but your words also bring a stabbing pain into his heart. why are you still longing for him? you should have moved on. you should have found someone better for you. someone who will not harm you at any given moment. but here you are, missing him. hoping he comes back.

"seriously? i just told you that i missed you and hoped you came back, and you say nothing??" you grimaced, looking exasperated. there's a slight crack in the wall now, but blade doesn't notice.

he had other things to concentrate on. like what you just said.

blade did not find this very amusing. his eyes widened underneath his sunglasses and he took a few steps back. after all these years, you could still find him in a crowd full of people. it was love he did not deserve, yet still begrudgingly craved.

"how did you know it was me?" was all blade could utter. he was too alarmed to ask any other questions, or press on your story. or to ask more about you.

you glower and huff, "so he does speak," you cross your arms over the railing as you turn to make eye contact with your past ally.

"how did you know?" blade snarled. he didn't intend for his words to come out as harsh as they did, and the moment they left his mouth, he wanted to shove the words back in and eat them. he had forgotten how you made him feel like an idiot sometimes just by doing absolutely nothing.

your eyes widen and your eyebrows slightly jump up; blade wishes he could erase that expression from his head permanently. however, instead of reacting to it, your composure remains calm. it unsettles blade; he has never seen you so calm before. when you two were young, you got into arguments with those who barely picked a fight with you. you were straightforward and aggressive: blade shouldn't have admired that about you, but nevertheless, he did.

you're less temperamental, and blade doesn't know if he likes it or not. he was worried. after a lifetime of emptiness and recklessness, blade worries. he worries about you: your life, your job, your wellbeing. he worries if you got promoted or not, or if you're living happily.

do you have a partner? blade tries to ignore the flames surrounding his heart as he thinks about your love life.

"oh please. after all the years we've spent together, you'd think i wouldn't be able to spot you in a crowd?" you let out a dry and curt laugh, "just because your hair got darker and you changed your outfit, does not mean you are unrecognizable."

"not to me, anyway," you quietly add, turning your gaze away from him and back to the starskiffs. there's an overwhelming feeling that was welling up in blade's body. it wasn't mara, because it felt more peaceful. but the urge was still strong. he wanted to grab your chin and turn you back towards him; he wanted you to look at him again and explain. to tell him about everything. he doesn't care about the topic, but he will listen no matter what.

blade feels foolish. how could one conversation (if you could even call this a conversation) make him feel so lovestruck? every single feeling for you⎯that he thought he had discarded a long time ago⎯reappeared out of thin air. it all came rushing back at him: your personality, your terrible jokes, and every single thing he grew to love about you. blade tried so hard to dismiss those feelings in the past century, and in the midst of a few minutes, all his past work crumbled.

when blade doesn't say anything, you take a sip out of your drink. the silence is tense; it is opposed to the once comfortable silences you two shared while watching starskiffs. blade thinks that, in another life, nothing would have changed: he would not have become mara-struck, and you two would watch starskiffs fly for hours on end.

but everything has changed now. and there's no going back to fix it. blade will shove down every morsel of affection he feels for you again. and this time, they won't come back up. starting tonight.

you give him a small smile, "so, wanna tell me what you've been up to?"

he will shove down every morsel of affection. starting tomorrow night. another crack in the wall between the both of you.

the feeling of wanting to capture someone's smile is maddening. you drive him crazy, and you make him more insane than mara ever could. all of this because of one smile? blade pictures your small smile once again. it's incomparable to your true smile, though. one where you're showing all your teeth and your eyes crinkle with such bemusement it drives him amuck.

once he pictures your toothy smile, he sinks deeper into the talons of endearment.

"aren't you supposed to arrest me?" he deflects, trying to stem away from his previous lovesick thoughts. maybe, if you arrest him now, he could flee from the luofu forever. maybe then, he'd have a reason to avoid you for life.

you make a 'pfft' noise with your mouth, and the sound is familiar and stupid. it has no reason to make his heart flutter the way it just did.

"if i wanted to arrest you, then you'd be in the hall of karma ages ago," you boast, "luckily for you though, i'm on a break."

"didn't know cloud knights slacked off now," blade rolls his eyes under his sunglasses. he thinks that if he's rude enough towards you, then you'd get the message that he's changed, and you would leave. he's not the same person he was before. if he didn't deserve you back then, he most definitely did not deserve you now.

"well, i'm not a cloud knight anymore," you step closer to him, "i'm a lieutenant."

so you got promoted. blade deeply tries to ignore how his breaths get more shallow after the mention of your promotion.

instead of congratulating you, blade instead replies with, "so you're the same rank as that kid that follows the general around?"

your face falls, and dread swarms throughout his body, spreading through every vein and artery and organ. every regret blade has does not compare with whatever he just said. blade finds that, whenever he thinks about regret, your face has always remained through his sea of remorse. you are the one thing he regrets in many different ways.

blade regrets meeting you. he regrets indulging in your offers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he regrets spending his nights with you. he regrets every time his heart leapt multiple beats whenever you were near. he regrets letting his guard down around you, because even now⎯whenever he is with you⎯he feels incredibly relaxed, despite not having to see you in centuries.

he regrets you. he regrets not being able to say goodbye to you. he regrets leaving you with so many qualms. he regrets not being able to see you change. he regrets the fact that he never got to confess to you. he regrets the fact that he still loves you, because why else would he be feeling this way?

the idiot keeps his mouth shut, even though he wants to apologize. "i didn't mean it," he wanted to say, "i'm sure you are very capable now. you stand up more straighter and you look more put together. not that you didn't look put together before. well, actually you didn't, but that's not the point."

it occured to blade that he was rambling about you in his mind. he was describing you in his mind. he was going crazy. nobody else notices these things about you. but blade physically could not tear his eyes away from you. the more he stared, the more he noticed more: such as the way your shoulders were more upright, your breathing was slow and even, and you surprisingly didn't look like you wanted to kill him. the you from centuries ago would have thrown him off the ledge.

you sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose, "i see you've met yanqing."

blade says nothing, which simply prompts you to keep talking. a tiny slither of comfort enter's blade's body: it was refreshing to see that after years, some things will never change.

"he's jing yuan's retainer," blade internally (and bitterly) revels in the fact that you don't use any formalities with jing yuan anymore, "he can be a bit... much. but it makes sense. he's only a kid, you know? i like him," you move your soda can to the side to make room for your arms. you're leaning on the railing again, and you were not looking at blade anymore. it should not scatter uneasiness around his nerves.

he wants to share an anecdote of his own. blade yearns for connection with you for just once more. when he is around you, there's an ache in his heart. it was always there; past and present. he thought it would be subtle, like a symptom of a short-term illness. but soon he realized, the symptom he shrugged off was a manifestation of something bigger. and blade never truly recognized how long his sickness would last. because here he is right now, sick as a dog in your presence.

if wanting to fuel your everlasting fire was a sickness, blade decided that he would be diagnosed as terminal.

blade tsks at your statement. you are not impressed; your face looking slack and skeptical. there have been many times where he has been on the receiving end of that look, yet he feels the air swirl all around in his stomach every time you look at him that way. he also tries to slow his heart rate down: there should be no reason why he should be elated at the fact that you're looking at him.

"don't give me that," you cross your arms, "he reminds me of you," you pause, letting the silence overtake the both of you. there are so many unsaid things that the silence feels full, yet still too quiet. you know that the past is a sensitive topic for blade (and you as well, but you choose to dwell on that another night).

"back when we were kids, anyway," you quickly add on.

blade scoffs. scoffs. he does not see himself in yanqing, and he also does not know how you came up to that conclusion. it was ridiculous and strange. blade had to fight a scowl off his face: yanqing and him were nothing alike. if anything, the child was the spitting image of the general.

at least time hasn't changed your terrible analogies.

"terrible?" you point a finger at him, nearing his sunglasses. oh. he said that out loud. "i'll have you know, my analogies are great!"

"you compared me to yanqing, who resembles jing yuan the most," blade shifts his head to the side as he crosses his arms. your finger made his glasses shift down slightly. he could see you a lot better now without the dark obstructing his view, and he internally curses at the wanted posters for being the (indirect) reason he has to wear the glasses.

you let out a sound of disbelief, which resembled blade's scoff and your huff from earlier, "first of all, i was describing temperament. second, terrible?!?"

"if you were describing temperament, then that child would be your twin," he says, trying to fight off the feeling of his lips turning up. this feels familiar. it feels homely, almost. the world melts away when he is around you. every person, place, worry: disintegrated away by your warmth. did you know that? how do you do that? how do you make all the problems in the world disappear so easily?

you let out a breathy laugh, turning away from blade one more time. except, this time, you turn back, a grin evident on your face. it's dark in starskiff haven at the moment, but blade is sure that he just saw the sun in your smile. out of his peripheral vision, he looks to see if anyone else has noticed. have they noticed the light coming from you? how do they notice notice it?

the world continues to move, but with you, it seems that everything is perfectly still.

"i'll have you know, i worked on that whole temperament thing," you held up a hand to his face, "i'm chill now."

"oh really?" blade skeptically raises an eyebrow. you can see it through the crack in his facade left by the sunglasses. you can see his eyes a little bit more clearer.

"oh yeah," you drag out, taking a long sip of your soda. you turn on your back and spread your arms across the railings, mimicking a tired soldier, "i'm chill."

and this feels so normal, like if it was a typical night on the luofu. you and him spending time together once again. everything fell back into place so easily, as if the events of all those years ago never happened. why was it so easy?

various emotions coarse through his body, each feeling worse than the last. he can't stay. he can't live. he knows that the longer he stays here with you, the harder leaving you gets. but things have changed, even if you have not. you probably couldn't even love him the same either, logistically speaking. there were too many obstacles standing between the both of you: loving him was impossible.

he still does not understand why you still speak to him.

greeted by his silence, you choose to continue the conversation further, "this soda really helped," you slide the drink over to him again, "it's been a few years. you should try it again."

"a few years, huh?" blade eyes the drink. biggest understatement of the year.

"yeah," you eye him. your eyes are telling him to say something. blade, in all of his fearlessness, is scared. he has not been scared in a long time. the feelings of fear rushing back into him leave him stranded to his own devices, and he has no clue how to react. he used to turn to you for these things, but now, you are the reason for his fear.

you step closer to him. you are close enough that your shoulders are now touching. when you speak, blade tries to control the agitation growing in the pit of his stomach. destructive thoughts impede and pervase through his mind.

"they hate you."

"things will never be the same."

"whatever you had once, it has all gone down the drain now."

"please try the mung bean soda."

what?

blade snapped out of his head to see you holding up your drink right next to his face. he leaned his head backwards as he was met with your pleading eyes.

you took him out of his trance like it was nothing. you didn't have abilities like kafka did, yet you were able to take him out of his spiral using only six words. how was it that everything surrounding you became so easy?

"i'm not drinking that," blade says with a stern voice. he hopes that his glasses hide the panic that was once apparent in his eyes.

"c'mon," you begged, "just one sip⎯"

"why are you even doing this?" blade irritatedly snapped.

you raise an eyebrow and pretend to not know what he was talking about, "because i want you to try new things...?"

"you know what i mean."

you set down the soda can again and let out a long sigh. you run your hands through your hair, and blade thinks this is it. this is the moment where you snap back like you usually would. this is the part where you tell him that he should leave. he's too difficult, too hard to love.

"did you think i was lying back when i said i missed you?" your entire face softened. there was no light-heartened smirk or grin. you look sad. there are no other words to describe how else you look except sad. blade could not think of any other words. all he could focus on was you.

"i wasn't lying," you say, sounding more desperate than before, "i miss you so much, yin⎯blade." your tone turns sharp when you say his name now. this is it, blade tells himself, this is the part where you leave.

"you matter to me," you eunicate, "i still believe in you. i don't care about the past; i'm not letting it hold me back. which, i know is probably wrong on some level, but i don't care. because i miss you a lot."

"it's not even the fact that i miss us from before," you're rambling now. blade does not have the heart to stop you, "but i just miss you. blade or yingxing, i couldn't care less. i miss our late night talks, so when i saw you here tonight, i jumped at the opportunity to talk to you," you threw your hands up in the air, and then ran another hand through your hair, "and when we spoke⎯even with everything that happened⎯everything felt so easy while talking to you. and everything was okay. and i just wanted that so badly," your voice trailed off. blade swore he could hear it crack a little.

you had felt the same way he did. blade does not know if he was just consumed by an overwhelming sense of air flowing through his chest, or feeling something drop in his chest after you said what you said.

"sorry," you had nothing to apologize for, "i just word-dumped on you," you were using another one of your weird terms again, "i just wanted to let you know that i've always missed you. i've missed everything about you. and i don't want to let you go."

i still love you.

you don't say that. you finish your tangent with a long sigh and another swig of your soda can. it's almost empty. mentally, you feel like that soda can right now. you just dumped years worth of feelings on blade, and he responds with silence.

this is it, you think, this is where he leaves.

but he doesn't. he brings you closer. blade grabs your wrist before you can put the drink back down, and he brings the can to his lips. he faces the fact that he just put his lips where yours were. for a brief second, he imagines that he was pressing his lips onto yours⎯not the soda can.

blade takes back everything he said earlier. he does not regret you whatsoever. he yearns for you. he needs you to function. he wants you: all the time.

he does not regret meeting you. he is not a believer of gods, but he wants to praise whichever higher power that allowed your fate to intertwine with his. he does not regret spending every moment of his time with you; those have been some of the happiest memories in his life.

most of all, he does not regret loving you, because who would regret the warmth of an everlasting flame?

love has been something blade has lived without for many years. but it all comes back so effortlessly with you. and now he realizes why: he loves you like air fans flames. he will keep on giving into your love, so long as you are still there. it doesn't matter when or where: it just matters if you are there.

"i thought you didn't like mung bean soda," you look at his ear rather than his face, not ready for rejection.

"you wanted me to try something new, didn't you?" blade only looked at you, wrist still in hand. he ponders how he was ever scared of your love.

“i didn’t think you would try it so soon,” you pathetically laughed.

“sooner than you’d think,” he quietly mumbled, only so the two of you could hear it. his fingers were grasping the top of your hands as he still held onto your wrist.

“look,” you place the drink down, slinking your hand out of blade’s hold, “i know you’re probably going to be gone soon. that’s fine. couldn’t really expect you to stay because of your… you know. job,” you awkwardly explain, tucking your hands behind your back.

“but,” you sounded more optimistic, and it seemed as though the street lights all lit up, “you know that friend i was telling you about? the annoying one?” blade rolls his eyes, you only laugh at his reaction, “i hope that he visits more often.”

hope. you hope for him to come back. you hope for more. blade hopes for more too. he wants more, actually. craves it.

but he plays hard to get, “well, if you keep calling your friend ‘annoying’ i doubt he’ll visit as often as you’d like,” and he smirks. you have to bite your lip, hard, to restrain your giddy smile.

“well, i was just telling it as it is,” and it’s easy again. and you want this as much as blade does. and this is hope. this is hope that, even after everything, you’re still here and love is still alive. the wall is broken so easily.

“mhm, okay.”

“yup!”

“i’ll see if i can sort something out,” blade tells you, taking another drink of your soda. he’s emptied at this point. he’s only taking the “drink” so he could try to hide his (growing) blush from you.

“i thought you ‘weren’t going to visit’ as often,” you pouted, rolling your eyes.

“well, i never said that. i said your friend was going to do that. just giving you some advice, that’s all,” he teased. you felt your heart swell up: everything was going to be fine.

“your advice is shit.”

“you’re shit.”

yeah. everything will be okay.

if this looks familiar it’s bc this is an expanded ver of the xianzhou men hcs i did like a week ago. this was from blades part and i liked it sm i wrote more. wish i could have done the end a little bit more justice but i am TIREDDDD it was 4:30 in the morning.

but if u made it all the way down here i hope u enjoyed!! i put my tanussy in this and i wrote for like 5 hrs so pls enjoy LMAO

#tana writes (∗´ ᨔ `∗)#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #blade x reader #blade x you #blade x y/n #this was supposed to be longer but it’s 4:30 in the morning and i’m done #like my brain is fried and i cant do this anymore 😭#the ending was rushed asl but yk other than that i didn’t hate this

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runningfrom2am · 7 months

Note

could we get a blurb where rafe saves reader at a party?

it's gets a little handsy for her with some of his friends and one of them tries to go too far and rafe saves her?

thank you for this request omg!! i hope it lives up to your expectations (even tho its a little long to be a blurb oops-) and i'm sorry this took me so long!

get the fuck off her - r.c.

pairing: rafe x fem!kook!reader

wc: 2.4k

tags/warnings: angst, comfort, implications of attempted sa, intentional use of lowercase, violence (kinda), some generally triggering stuff so please if any of this is upsetting for you please go read something else!

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

"you're not funny kelce, has anyone ever told you that before?" you raise an eyebrow at your friend, talking loudly over the blaring music as you cross your arms over your chest.

"actually no, that's a first." kelce replies snarkily, mocking your posture. "you're lying though, babe- i know you think i'm hilarious."

you roll your eyes, a smile still present on your face. your pupils are blown, lids drooping slightly as you immediately forget the interaction and sway with the music.

"c'mon, you know you love me." kelce chuckles, stepping closer and placing his hands on your waist. you laugh, brushing his hands off smoothly.

rafe is biting into the rim of his plastic cup as he watches, previously enjoying a sip of whatever jungle juice someone had left on the counter. he's watching closely, and though you laughed it off, he knew you well- and he knew you weren't a big fan of being touched. kelce should know better too.

it's only a matter of minutes before it happens again, topper approaching the group and slinging his arm over your shoulder which you don't even process with the concoction of substances mixing in your bloodstream.

"rafe, man, your sister's a bitch, bro." topper whines, leaning into you further.

"that so?" rafe chuckles, watching topper's arm slide down to your back.

"yeah, she's leading me on, then fucking off and leaving me high and dry." he explains vaguely. "i bet you wouldn't do that to me, would you, sweetheart?" he says to you, hand sliding lower, lower, until his fingers reach the bottom of your shirt and the skin of your back.

"i don't think it's personal, top. have you tried talking to her about it?" you suggest, wrapping your arms around yourself, subtly holding the hem of your shirt down.

topper rolls his eyes, leaning closer to make sure you hear him as you lend him your ear. "i just hate talking though... don't you?" he says, lips brushing over the skin of your neck.

"you're drunk, top..." you laugh nervously, very briefly making eye contact with rafe standing across from you in the small circle you've created.

"hey, what'd he say?" rafe asks over the music, brow furrowed with the instant rush of sobriety.

you smile nervously at him. "nothing... he's just being weird." you chuckle, shaking your head and trying to move away. "i'm gonna go get another drink. i'll be back." you squeeze out of toppers grip and walk off through the crowd towards the corner where you hid your cooler.

you bop your head along to the mac miller song that started on your way over, humming along to the tune and laughing a little at other people chanting along to the lyrics. you quickly grab another drink out of the cooler before shoving it back in the mostly empty cupboard and closing it again.

"she's not gonna fuck you, bro. i'll tell you that right now." rafe shakes his head at his friend, taking another sip of the overly sweet drink.

"have you seen her? it's well worth the shot if the worst she can say is no." topper laughs, and rafe clenches his jaw, looking again over the crowd to try and keep an eye on you. "the best she can say is absolutely, and she's into me, i can tell."

"oh, can you now?" rafe mumbles, eyes landing on you at last as you close the cupboard and crack open your can. if you had any feelings for any of the boys you regularly hung out with, it was a secret to him. you were a puzzle to him, despite your friendly and sometimes flirty personality.

"yeah, but she's not gonna let me hit with you clowns around. i'll be back, or not." topper laughs, pushing back through the crowd in the direction of you.

rafe decides to let him go. you could make your own decisions, and clearly, you were going to say no, and topper would come sulking back in a few minutes after striking out. he watched as topper made it up to you, starting a conversation. you were laughing, and he figured that was a good time to let you handle yourself.

except for a few moments later, when he looked up from his conversation with kelce and another girl that appeared by his side, to see you with your back to the wall in a corner, topper standing over you.

"hey, i think we should get back to the guys..." you chuckle nervously, taking a step back and hitting the wall.

"why? i told them we'd be a while." topper smirks, hands once again finding your waist and sliding under the hem of your shirt.

"well i didn't, i said i'd be back and-"

"get that stick out of your ass, won't you? we're having fun." he insists, leaning down over you and brushing his lips over your jaw.

you bite your lip nervously, scanning the room to see if there's anyone near enough to talk to to pull yourself out of this situation. "top, please, i don't want to do this can we just head back?"

"i know you want to give me a shot, you won't regret it..." he mumbled against your skin, hands sliding up farther under your shirt as the sound of your heartbeat echoed over the music in your ears.

you panic, trying weakly to just push him off at this point and create any kind of distance between the two of you as his hands press into your skin. "please don't topper, you're drunk..." you say, but it comes out whinier than you intended. the disconnect between your mind and your body is showing, and you can see that as you're fumbling to get your hands to reach his shoulders just enough to get him to back off. you didn't need to, when a moment later he was pulled back with a force unforeseen by either of you.

"get the fuck off her, man."

it's rafe, and he's angry. you've seen him like this before, sure, but the look behind his eyes is new as he shoved topper away, dropping the grip he held on the back of his shirt. "rafe, c'mon." topper chuckles, adjusting his shirt and rubbing the front of his neck where the fabric had dug into his skin.

just as quickly, rafe's fist was gripping the front of his shirt again, getting face to face with him. "no, she was literally pushing you off and you didn't take that as a no?" rafe's forehead is almost pressed to toppers as he backs him into the kitchen island.

"rafe!" you shout, voice shaky as you try to get his attention. "let him go, it's fine."

rafe looks back over his shoulder at you, standing with your arms crossed tightly over your stomach. he sighs, dropping the fabric before turning to you. "you okay, y/n/n?" he asks, shaking out his fist.

you nod shakily, pulling your shirt back down from where it had ridden up with the disturbance.

"you sure?" he asks again, looking you up and down with concern drawn between his brows.

you continue to nod, looking around now for where topper had put down your drink when he took it out of your hand to back you into the wall. "i'm fine... just, yeah. it's fine." you chuckle awkwardly.

"no, it's not. come on. i'll walk you home, yeah?"

"rafe, c'mon, she said it's fine. she can stay longer." kelce interjects, having followed him over.

rafe throws his hands up in frustration as he turns to his friends. "shut the fuck up, kelce! i'll beat the shit out of both of you. seriously, i don't give a shit." he turns back to you. "c'mon, i'll grab your bag. lets get you out of here."

as rafe leads you away, you avoid eye contact with his friends, arms still crossed to quell your shakiness. rafe pulls your cooler bag back out of the cupboard and throws it over his shoulder before guiding you to the door. you're relieved to feel the cool sea breeze hit your skin, you didn't even realize how stuffy it was and how claustrophobic you felt until you got outside and you could finally breathe again.

"seriously, are you okay?" rafe asks again, feeling nervous that you only said it was fine before because there were so many people around. he's still tense, angry, but he's making an effort to seem calm since now he's alone with you.

"yeah, uh, yeah. fine." you nod softly, staring down at your feet as you make your way to the sidewalk. "just... a little shaken up, i guess."

rafe adjusts your bag over his shoulder, then proceeds to rub his hand over his forehead. "i'm sorry, that was shitty."

"it happens, unfortunately..." you laugh awkwardly, trying to shrug it off.

rafe looks down at you as you walk, still avoiding eye contact with him. "has top done that before? i'll go back and-"

"no! no, he's never done that before." you assure him. "i don't know, like, going to a party around a bunch of people you kind of know and kind of don't know is never... comfortable. it's hard to get comfortable and then when you do something like that happens and-" you laugh to yourself. "sorry, i shouldn't rant to you about this."

"no, by all means." rafe replies, urging you on. "you can tell me anything."

"thanks, but i think i'm done." you grin, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you walk.

"does that actually happen to you like... often?" he asks after a few moments of silence.

"not often, and its never been that scary- i guess?" you explain. "just sometimes, some guy will touch me or say something and i just get this feeling in the pit of my stomach that something is wrong and it's hard to shake. it sticks with you. more often than not if you say no they'll retaliate, either get mad or spread lies about you or whatever. so i just kind of.. freeze. when you don't know what to do, sometimes you don't do anything and you just have to laugh it off. it is what it is, i guess."

"right." rafe nods, deep in thought over what you had said. "so what i'm hearing, is that you never actually slept with devin?"

you laugh at this, tone still slightly wobbly. "i told you i didn't, remember?"

"ah, yes. you did tell me that." rafe remembers how sitting at the country club bar together just weeks prior he had asked you about this rumour and you denied it, shaking your head as you sipped on a virgin daiquiri. "i didn't really believe it anyways. devin's a prick."

"he really is." you agree, looking up now at the sky. "thank you, by the way," you add, looking over at your friend now for the first time since you left. you're met with confusion in his eyes as he returns your gaze. "for, like, rescuing me."

"i shouldn't have had to. that was fucked." rafe shakes his head. "don't thank me, that's so... twisted. if topper could have gotten through his thick skull that maybe you're not into him-"

"he thinks i'm into him?" you laugh, eyes wide now.

"well, hopefully not anymore." rafe chuckles. "but knowing him, he still probably doesn't get it. i'll talk some sense into him."

"please do." you sigh. "he won't believe it from me, apparently."

"honestly, i don't think i can look at him for the next week." rafe admits.

"tell me about it."

another few moments of silence follow. "you know, you don't have to hangout with us. if we make you uncomfortable we can keep our distance."

"you're the only one who never has." you smile at him. "surprisingly." you add teasingly, bumping your shoulder against his arm.

"what's that supposed to mean?" rafe chuckles, already knowing it was a joke.

you just shrug in response. "you know, you're whole 'bad boy' rep you've got going on."

"i can still be cool and like... not make girls uncomfortable. that's actually kind of the point."

"that's a good point." you agree. "the girls do flock to you."

rafe rolls his eyes at this, smiling as he shakes his head. "not that... that's what i want. it just kind of happens."

"so you get it?" you giggle, feeling the shakiness you previously had finally slightly subsiding.

"well, no. when i tell them to fuck off they... you know, fuck off." he laughs.

"ah- what a pleasure that must be." you joke, stopping as you're now standing in front of your driveway. "thanks for walking me home. it was hard to breathe in there."

rafe stops too, looking down the long driveway to your house. "of course, anytime." he nods, looking at you for a moment before he realizes you're waiting for your bag. "shit, sorry..." he laughs, dropping it from his shoulder and handing it back to you.

"all good." you grin, taking it and putting it on.

"well, I've got to get going. i have a guy to beat up, so..."

as he turns away, you speak to him again. "rafe, don't." your voice is quieter now, and as he looks back at you he sees the tears welling up in your eyes. "please." you add, so softly he's sure if he didn't see your lips moving he wouldn't have heard it. "it'll just make it worse... i just want to forget about it."

"okay, hey, hey- i was kidding. i won't touch him." rafe is quick to backtrack, holding a hand out to grab your shoulder but he hesitates, dropping it again. "are you sure you're okay?"

that's when the floodgates open, and your hands are flying up to your face to cover it as you start to sob. the shock had worn off by now, and the reality of what could have happened was setting in. rafe didn't know what to do, looking around to make sure no one could see. "y/n... what can i do?" he asks, and all he wants to do is pull you into his arms and tell you how safe you are, that everything is okay, but he knows touching you probably wouldn't be wise.

you can't answer. you can hardly breathe as you feel your chest tightening. you try and laugh, wiping your eyes and looking up at him. you wish he wasn't seeing this. you shake your head, deciding to just sit down on the grass.

rafe sits next to you, tucking his knees up to his chest like you had, crossing his arms over top. "you're safe, y/n/n." he tells you, leaning his head on his forearms and watching you. "can i stay with you?"

at this you just move a little closer, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder instead. he freezes up, just for a second, before moving so he can brace his hand on the ground behind you. "I've got you. i'm not going anywhere..."

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carmyboobear · 1 month

Text

Blood Orange (Ch 1: The Walk-In)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

Rating: E (7.3k words)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link

Summary: Losing your job is the worst thing to ever happen to you. Getting hired by Carmen Berzatto is a close second. You tell yourself that The Beef is only temporary, that it's just a replacement until you find something better. It doesn't work. You've stopped listening. You've had a taste of Carmy, and now you don't think you're ever gonna be able to let go. No matter how bad it gets.

Content Tags: secret workplace relationship/sex, friends/coworkers with benefits, they/them afab reader, miscommunication, mental illness (carmy and reader), dom/sub dynamics, dom carmy (for now), enemies to friends to lovers (eventually), unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional relationship

A/N: It's finally here! New series! We even get sex in the first chapter! In my other fic, I'm taking care of Carmy. In this one, I'm making him worse. Of course, here's a disclaimer that I DON’T condone or intend to glorify any of this behavior. It's just compelling to write. Enjoy!

You return to The Beef for the first time in years when you're at your lowest.

The only upside to this abysmal situation is that the job was shitty. The job you just got laid off from, to be exact. Retail was never your passion, and there's a certain relief in knowing you don't have to go back to that windowless place. You didn't play an important role in the ecosystem, but it played a pretty crucial role in yours. It kept a roof over your head.

You're sure you could’ve sued them in some fashion for letting you go without any warning, any parachute, but you didn't have the luxury of time. You needed to figure out how you were going to pay rent, and fast.

After the rage boiled over (not to say that it's resolved, the residual anger's leveled into an even simmer), you pulled your hair back, found your cleanest, nicest outfit, and started your job search. With your updated resume in hand and scuffed sneakers on your feet, you've trekked all over Chicago looking for a new job. You weren't optimistic, nor were you hopeful.

You suppose the only word you could use to describe yourself was desperate, and it was a matter of finding someone that was just as desperate, if not more desperate than you. To put it politely, the odds of that were low. Very low.

You got laid off that very morning. The rest of your afternoon has been spent walking from door to door to every establishment you could spot. By some cruel twist of fate, none of them were hiring. The ones that were hiring looked unenthusiastic, even adverse to taking your resume.

“When would you be able to start?” Some of the workers asked.

“Tomorrow,” was your desperately honest answer.

“If all goes well, you'll hear from us in a week,” was their response. The unspoken was, of course, the fact that radio silence was more likely than an email or phone call. Places didn't even send rejection letters anymore.

“Thanks for your time,” you'd say, bringing out a bright smile from a complete lack of reserves, and as soon as you turned around, your face would drop.

Your hopes were low, nearly non-existent, but damn. Damn. It wasn't looking good for you.

That's why you enter The Beef. You vaguely remember visiting this place a couple years ago, back when you first moved to Chicago. The owner was…pretty nice, actually. You don't remember his name, but you remember having a pleasant conversation with him. Of course, there's nothing you can do if he doesn't have a job opening, but it wouldn't be bad to see a friendly face. Even if that face is from someone who's basically a stranger.

The doorbell rings when you enter. It catches the attention of the man standing behind the counter, and with how his head jolts up, you'd think the bell functioned as an alarm instead.

“Welcome,” he says. Your first impression, other than the fact that he seems very, very, tired, is that he's irritatingly attractive. If anything, the eyebags and the greased back waves only add to whatever the hell he's got going on.

“Hi. Um…” You're briefly caught off guard by his biceps, but you catch yourself. “I was actually wondering if you guys were hiring.”

“We are,” he replies, and it's the best thing you've heard all day. He lights up like the spark of a lighter, bright and instantaneous. It doesn't shake the pervasive exhaustion that radiates off him, though.

“Thank god,” you mutter, and you want to take it back (it's far too casual), but he cracks an amused smile that makes you want to dissolve like a pinch of salt in a sea of sauce. “Sorry. Do you mind if I talk to the owner? We met a while ago, and—”

“I'm the owner,” he interrupts, and any other words you had planned fall away.

“Sorry?” You repeat. “I swear it was this guy—he had short dark hair, I think—”

“Yeah, he left the place to me. Didn't want it anymore, so.” He shrugs. The light you just saw from him has fizzled away like the end of a sparkler, short-lived and ultimately disappointing.

“Oh. Got it. Uh…” To your credit, you don't fumble for too long. You have a lot of questions, but you've got more pressing issues. You pluck out a resume from a file folder. “Here's my resume, then.”

He takes it from you, flips it to face him. He's quiet as his eyes lower down the page, and you wonder if it's going to be a guillotine or a pot of gold at the end of this. The only sounds in the entrance are the passing cars outside, the rickety air conditioning, and muffled chatter from the back.

“You worked as a prep cook.” He says it like a fact, but you know it's a question.

“Yeah, nothing fancy. Just at some chain restaurants.”

“Right. I see you worked as a line cook at another location. Which one did you prefer?”

“Uh…” They both came with their separate pains. Your honest answer is that being a line cook was one of the most stressful experiences of your life, but if he has a position open as a line cook, you don't want to fuck it up. “They were both fine. I think I was a little better as a prep cook, but I didn't mind either.”

He hums, satisfied by your answer. At least it’s only half of a lie.

“How do you work under pressure?”

“Good,” you answer quickly. “Well enough.”

“Willing to learn?”

“Obviously. I mean…” You think you see a flash of a smile, but you're unsure. “Yeah.”

“When'd you be able to start?” You're surprised he's already asking this.

“Tomorrow,” you say, just like you’ve been, and his reaction is different from the others. He nods. He doesn't smile, not like he did earlier, but you can tell this is a good sign.

Before he can get a word out, there's a sharp, metallic explosion of noises that resounds from the direction of the kitchen.

“Uh,” he starts, eyebrows pinched in irritation, the voices come in.

“I told you, you have to say behind!” A woman's voice. She sounds young, but there's no real way to be sure of that.

“How the hell did you not hear me coming?” A Chicago accent, male. Older, maybe. “I was in the middle of having a conversation with Tina—”

“Great, I'm so happy for you, I don't give a shit, now this has all went to waste—”

“Well, who's fault is that?”

“Who's fault is that? You did not just—”

“Guys!” The man you've been talking to gives you an apologetic glance before walking to the back, pushing through the folding doors. You catch a glimpse of the two people arguing on the other side before it shuts. “I'm tryin’ to talk to a new hire here. We can't be like this right now. Not ever, but especially right now.”

Finally, the first sane person I've met all day, you think.

“Carmy, talk some sense into her,” the older guy shouts, and it gives you a name to the face. “All of this on the floor—”

“You didn't say behind,” the woman repeats, except with more fury in it this time.

“You didn't say behind,” he imitates back. “Carmy—”

“She’s right. Richie, step out,” Carmy says. “Syd, you clean this up.”

“But—” You hear her start to protest.

“You spilled it, you clean it,” he cuts through, decisive and firm.

“I know, but Richie—”

“Clean it,” he repeats, firmer, darker this time, and there's a beat of silence.

“...Yes, chef.”

“I told you to step out,” Carmy tells who you assume is Richie.

“You're just gonna let her—”

“Step the fuck outside right fucking now!” Carmy screams, his patience shooting away like a gunshot. You feel something shrivel inside you, and not in a good way. “Do the one fucking thing you're good at and get out of the fucking way!”

Yeah…definitely not in a good way.

From what you hear, it sounds like Richie has to get wrestled outside by someone, whom you're not sure. After another minute, Carmy returns to the front.

“I'm sorry about that. Fucking—” He drags a hand across his face. You swear his eyebags have grown heavier in the 5 minutes he was in the kitchen. “What was I saying?”

“Um, I was saying that I could start tomorrow,” you remind him, although the vigor you had just stated it with is a bit fizzled out.

“Right. Okay. Uh—” He pats his hands on his apron, searching for something. A pen and paper appear in his hands, and he scribbles something on it. This is when you notice his tattoos. A flower on the back of his hand. Surprising. “You're hired. Here's the paperwork you need to fill out, along with the number and email you'll be hearing from me at.”

“What?” You take the sheets, but the smooth paper doesn't feel real in your hands. His handwriting is hasty and dark, like he was running out of time on a test. “I mean, I'm just surprised.”

“Do you not want it?”

“I want it,” you promise, and you feel your cheeks flush. This is a bad time to yet again notice how attractive he is. His pretty eyes, his nose. The little moles under his left eye. “Y-Yeah, I want the job.”

“Good.” He motions towards the sticky note again. “Come in at 8 am tomorrow. You'll be starting as a prep cook, which you've done before.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, I'll be there.” The reality is setting in now, and an odd cocktail of relief, apprehension, and excitement is settling in your stomach. “Thank you so much.” I just got laid off from my job this morning, so this means a lot, you want to say, but it's too soon. You don't want to say anything that'll make him change his mind about whatever he sees in you.

“Thank you,” he echoes back. “We need the help. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” you reply, and with that, the door rings behind you. A customer comes up to the counter, peering up at the menu. You figure this is your cue to leave. He's not looking at you anymore anyway.

So, I got a job now, you update your friends, texting them on your way home on the metro. As the relieved congratulations come flying in, another remark seems to resound amongst all of them.

I can't believe you got the job just like that. That place must be desperate, too, is roughly what they've all said. The thing is, they're not wrong.

You managed to find someone more desperate than you in the job economy. Just one, but that was enough. It makes you think, though. You think about Carmy's weary blue eyes, his brief smile, and his hand tattoos. You wonder if it's just the restaurant that gives him that bone-deep exhaustion, or if it's a smaller part of a bigger picture.

You think about it for the rest of your commute, you think about it as you smoke on the porch, you think about it as you lay in bed. You think about it as you fill out the paperwork, fingers tracing where Carmy's written his name, number, and email.

Carmen Berzatto

773-555-0901

So Carmy's a nickname, you think. Not about what type of boss he's going to be, not about what it's going to be like working under someone you are obviously attracted to.

Maybe you should be more worried about this.

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you tell yourself, and you foolishly believe it.

. . . . .

Your first day on the job starts with introductions.

At least, that's about as much as you've figured out so far. When he sees you upon arrival, he pauses and stares at you like he's forgotten. Not a great start. Granted, he does snap out of it. That's when he tells you to follow him, which is where you currently find yourself. You're not sure where he's leading to, only that he's introducing you to others as you pass them by.

“They’re working with us starting today,” Carmy tells everyone. “They’re gonna be on prep.”

Right. So that's what you'll be doing. At least he told you that much yesterday.

The catalog of coworkers expands exponentially. You remember Sydney from yesterday, and to her credit, she apologizes about having you witness her fight with Richie, who conveniently isn't here yet. She seems the nicest out of all the bunch, so you decide to let it slide.

Marcus is pretty nice, too. So are Ebra, Sweeps, Manny, Angel—everyone seems to be pretty alright. It’s obvious they’re standoffish by you being in their space. You find it hard to hold it against them. You’re not really sure how your relationships with them are going to pan out. There are only three that you’re particularly unsure on.

The first and obvious one is Richie. He came in eventually and didn’t give you the best impression, immediately talking over everyone and oozing arrogance. The only salvageable thing is that he’s not even a chef. At least you won’t have to be in the kitchen with him much. You want to avoid the honor of talking to him as much as possible.

Tina is next. She clearly doesn’t enjoy having someone new in the ecosystem, and she’s spent more time ignoring you than talking with you. As you understand it, she’s close to the rest of the staff since they’ve all been together for a while. Minus you and Syd, as you learn she’s only been there for a week. You think Tina will warm up to you…eventually.

Carmy is the last one, and he’s…he’s…

He’s something else.

He has you doing prep for most of the day. After introducing you to everyone and giving you a brief tour, he brings you to your station, scratched up stainless steel.

“You’re going to be cutting onions and carrots today for the stock. The vegetables are in the walk-in I showed you earlier, and when it’s done, it goes on the first shelf.” Carmy’s to your right, set up at his own station. You swear you keep your eyes focused on the vegetables, not his biceps in that shirt, but… “You should already know this, but label everything. I don’t want to see anything without a date. Got it?”

“Yes, chef,” you confirm, snapping out of it. He’s been flinging new information at you like it’s a war and he’s gunning to survive. But so are you. “I’ll do my best.”

“I expect as such.” He slides over a peeler for the carrots and some plastic bins for trash. “It’s just a stock, so don’t worry about an even cut. Just salvage whatever you can, cut off anything that doesn’t look good.” You nod. “Been a year or so since you did this, right?”

“Yeah. I cook regularly, but I’ll need to get back into the groove of things. And I will,” you add hastily. “I’ll combine them into this one when I'm done, right?” You ask, nudging a large plastic container.

“Correct.” A brief smile flashes across his face. “You're already following quicker than I thought you would.” You’re not sure if he means it as an insult or a compliment, so you decide to take it as the latter.

“I haven't even chopped anything yet.”

“I know.” His expression is flat again. You resist a laugh. He plucks an onion from the bin, puts it in front of you. “Show me a rough dice.”

The knife is sharp. You notice this as you place careful cuts into the onion. It's not quite as sharp as his unnerving gaze, which layers pressure upon pressure. It builds up like a pastry puff, thin multitudes of layers expanding upward. You need to be good. You need to be perfect. You don't want to disappoint him, not this early, even though you've barely been here for an hour.

It's just a shitty old sandwich shop, you tell yourself, but your dicing is uneven and you briefly think about accidentally chopping your fingers off.

“Not my best work,” you admit, vaguely breathless. Carmy hasn't said anything yet.

“It'll do.” You're waiting for him to say something else, give you some tips, but he doesn't. Irritation prickles to the tips of your fingers. “I'll be back to check in on you later.”

You stand there, motionless and shocked in the aftermath. You're not sure what you expected from today, but being abandoned an hour in was not at the top of your bucket list.

Man, what the fuck, you think, the thought clear in the silence around you, and that's the last time you can hear yourself think for the rest of the shift.

There's a prepared stock from yesterday simmering on the stove behind you. It's flanked by boiling potatoes and reducing tomato sauce. The heat from it’s searing your back like a steak, slowly drawing lines of moisture all over the surface of your shirt. Your coworkers constantly invade your space to check on them. You suppose it's not their fault that the kitchen, but it's still irritating. They're also all shouting over each other like it's a competition.

“Who the fuck touched my stock—”

“No one touched your stupid shitty stock—”

“I am trying to find this cutting board, will someone please—”

You move on from the onions with only a thin layer of sweat collected at your hairline.

Your hands are shaky as they peel the carrots. You know you're not getting as efficient of a shave as you could be, but the caffeine crash from your morning coffee is getting to you. You don't remember the last time you drank water. A cigarette sounds nice.

“Clean your station, chef.” Carmy materializes next to you. You hear him before you see his hands scooping carrot shavings into a plastic container. It shocks you so much that you almost cut yourself.

“Sorry, chef,” you reply reflexively. You look down at your station, straightening your tools. You want to ask if you can take your break, but you don't want to look any weaker than you do already. “So, uh, do we get 30's here?”

When you don't get a response, your head snaps up, irritation on the tip of your tongue, but he's not even there.

Fucking hell, you think, annoyance simmering into something akin to anger, and you go back to finishing your prep.

You don't see him for another hour after that. It's not even him that tells you to take your 15, it's Syd, who noticed you were half-way through your shift and on the verge of…something.

“You finished the prep he gave you, right?” Syd had asked. You told her you finished and put it back in the walk-in. “Yeah, then go take your break. Did he not tell you we get 15's here?”

“He didn't,” you say, too annoyed to bother hiding the disdain in your face. Sydney just sighs, rolling her eyes, and you think you love her.

“Asshole.” She makes a shooing motion at you then. “Go, get a break from this madness. It'll get better, I promise.”

You're not sure if you believe her, but you do step outside to take your break.

As you stand outside in the back, you take note of tightness in your body that you weren't even aware of. The cigarette smoke calms you, loosens you. Or maybe you owe that to getting out of that hot kitchen.

This time, you see Carmy before you hear him. You turn to the door to see him stepping out, a pack of smokes in his hand.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you reply.

“Everythin’ goin’ okay so far?”

“Yeah. It's fine.” Other than everything.

“Really?” His surprise just pisses you off further. “Well, that's good.”

“...Yeah.” You decide if your mouth stays unoccupied, you'll start cussing him out, so you put your cigarette back in your mouth.

“You're bleeding.”

“What?”

“I said, you're bleeding. Your hand.”

You look down at your hand holding the cigarette, and sure enough, there's a thin, shallow cut oozing blood near one of your knuckles.

“Shit,” you mutter, quickly sucking the skin into your mouth. When you pull it back, the red refills. “I didn't even notice.”

“Let's get a bandaid on that.” He puts his unlit cigarette back into his pack. “I have some in my office.”

That's how you end up in the enclosed, dark space of his office, seated on the only chair as he leans back against his cluttered desk. The dingy first-aid kit is propped on top of a shaky stack of papers. Carmy takes out a bandaid from it and peels it open.

“Thought I gave you a sharp knife, it shouldn't have cut you like that,” Carmy comments.

“It was sharp,” you correct. “Guess I just fucked up.”

“It happens,” he says, which surprises you. He keeps surprising you. You just can't seem to figure him out. “Let me see the cut.”

You only realize that he's putting the bandaid on you when he cradles your hand in his. His hands are warm.

He has so many hand tattoos. You notice the letters on his fingers first, the SOU curled around your palm. You notice the other tattoo on the back of his hand next, since that's the one carefully placing the bandaid on you.

He wraps it around your finger just right. Not too tight, not too loose.

“Is that too tight?” He asks, almost in a whisper. He's so close, and he smells like kitchen oil, cigarette smoke, and a faded cologne you can't place.

“No, it's okay.” You don't mean to talk so quietly back, but you do. You can't stop staring at his fingers. They're long and marked up with silver scars and burns. If you look carefully, you can place the locations of his callouses.

“Good.” You don’t know why he does it, but he runs his thumb across the seams of where your bandaid overlaps. Surely it’s just to secure it further…surely.

“Thank you.” He’s still holding your hand. You’re unsure if you’re imagining the tension in the air or not. Everything feels more intimate behind closed doors, especially in low light. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“It’s easier if another person does it.” He lets go, finally, and you try not to mourn the loss. “Did you finish prepping for the stock?”

“What you gave me, yeah.”

“Alright. Let’s go take a look at it, then,” he says, like that isn’t the most anxiety inducing thing you’ve ever heard.

“R-Right now?”

“As opposed to?” He opens the door to his office, and the muffled noises in the kitchen become sharp and clear again, like emerging from underwater. “Come on.”

You don’t know how it happens, but Carmy gets into five separate arguments on the way to the walk-in. FIVE. To be fair, two of them are from Richie.

“I’ve been telling you guys to sharpen your knives, don’t fucking treat them like this,” Carmy shouts, trudging over to someone’s station. “You see this? This is exactly what we should not be doing! How many times have I said this today?! Don’t—“

“Stop going into my office when I’m not there,” Carmy hisses at Richie next. “You keep fucking up where the papers are put, and I can’t find anything! It’s enough of a mess as it is! No—I said—cousin, listen to me—“

“Everyone shut the hell up, clean your stations, and get the fuck back to work!” Is the last thing he shouts before slamming the door to the walk-in behind you. He slams it so hard the wire racks rattle. You decide not to comment.

The difference in sound is eerie. You’re always surprised by how sound proof these walk-in fridges are.

“Is this the prep you did today?” Carmy asks, touching one of the clear plastic bins. Sure enough, it’s the one you placed there a moment ago.

“Yeah, it is.” You chew the inside of your cheek. You were hoping he would be in an okay mood when he checked your work. It seemed like he was at first, but now?

“It's on the wrong shelf.”

“What?” You stare at it sitting on the first shelf, just like he told you to. “You told me to put it on the first shelf.”

“It goes on the second shelf.” He's pissed, and there's ice in your veins. He huffs as he takes the container and moves it one shelf up, slamming it down unnecessarily. “I told you—second shelf.”

“You literally said it went on the first shelf.” The ice has melted, and it's boiling.

“No, I didn't.” You wanna punch him. Badly. You know what you heard. “And you forgot to label it.”

“Shit.” That, you did forget. You’re not above owning up to your mistakes, unlike him. “I'm sorry, I was—”

“We always need stuff like this to be labeled,” he interrupts, rude and abrupt. You can hear the thinly veiled anger in his voice. “I told you.”

“I know, I just—“

“Don’t make excuses. Just do better.”

“It’s my first fucking day!” You snap, finally, and it’s like a firecracker in the dead of night. “I don’t expect to be coddled, but I’ve only been here for a couple hours, and you’re just—“

“I told you to put a label on it, to put it on the second shelf, and you didn’t do either of those things.” This is a different type of anger. It’s quiet, contained. Dangerous. And with your outburst, it’s trembling at the edges.

“You literally hired me yesterday!” You’re exasperated. “You looked at my resume for like two seconds before hiring me, and you’re mad that I’m messing up?”

“You had enough credentials on your resume. You told me you could work well under pressure and learn quickly. Is that true or not?”

“It is true! You just have to give me a chance first!”

“I just gave you a chance,” Carmy snaps back, “and you fucked it up.”

“Oh my god. I just—“ You take a step back. “I don’t have to take this shit.”

“Are you quitting already?”

“I wasn’t going to.” You move towards the door. “But maybe I should, before you fire me. Doesn't seem like you want me, anyway.”

You were planning on exiting the walk-in after that, to leave on cue, but the door doesn’t budge. You and Carmy notice it at the same time.

Suddenly, there is a new problem.

“Fuck,” Carmy curses under his breath. The two of you are pushing against the door, but it won’t budge. He slams his fist on it and calls out. “Guys, the walk-in door is stuck! Can any of you open it from out there?”

“Carmen?” Richie's voice is muffled from the other end. There's the sound of frustrated efforts on the other end. “It's not fuckin’ budging!”

“Fuck,” Carmy repeats, seething, and you agree. “Call Fak!”

“I already did! He’s gonna be here in 20!”

“20 minutes?!” Carmy shouts. You close your eyes and sigh, audibly. “Don't we have a screwdriver in here or something?! Just take the hinges off!”

“Why do you think I called Fak?! Shut the hell up and be patient!”

“Tell him to hurry the fuck up,” Carmy barks, and that's where their conversation ends.

“Just what I needed right now,” you mutter under your breath. Carmy's not looking at you, eyes boring into the door that's trapping the both of you in here with each other. “To be locked in a room with you.”

It's quiet for a minute before he speaks, cutting the silence open.

“...I do want you, y'know.”

“You—huh?” He said it so quietly you're not sure if it was a hallucination.

“We need you here.” He's still not looking at you. “This place—it's fucked. We don't have enough hands.”

“I can tell,” you say, and you mean for it to come out bitter, but it's soft. Naively so.

“I want you here. I do.” He doesn't need to say it like that. You don't want to believe it, neither his words or the way hearing it makes you feel. “I need you.”

“Can you at least look at me when you say it?”

You’re not sure why you say it. You instantly recognize it for how needy it sounds, but you don't get the luxury of embarrassment. Carmy's already turning to face you.

“I want you,” he repeats, voice low. You think about the paint you'd need to mix to match the color of his eyes. Blue, white, and the slightest bit of orange to desaturate it. You're not sure what type of orange, though. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, despite yourself, and it's too late.

“Are you gonna do better?” You didn't even register him moving closer to you. When did your back end up against the shelves?

“I’m gonna do better,” you whisper, “if you stop being such an asshole.”

“It won't happen again,” he whispers back, and you recognize it for the lie that it is.

You don't really care, though.

His face is so close to yours that you can see the separate specks of colors in his iris. You watch his gaze fall from your eyes to your lips, and it lingers there before rising again. Any shreds of self respect or control you were clinging onto disintegrate. It doesn't matter if he really means what it says. All that matters is getting your mouth on his.

“Okay,” you say, a whisper of foolish acceptance, and you're kissing him.

Or is he kissing you? You don't know who leaned forward first. It's not important.

“I saw you staring at my hands today,” Carmy says against your lips. Spit makes your mouths slide easily against each other. “Yesterday, too.”

“What the—no you didn't,” you gasp, appalled, heat rising in your face, “how did you—?”

“You're right. I didn't,” he admits with a cheeky grin. You’re really gonna punch him now.

“God, you're just,” you mutter, “you're such an asshole.”

“I know.” At first, you think he's being smug, but there's a surprising sense of remorse under it. You don't have time to think about it, though, not when his hand is cradling your face. There's no way he doesn't feel how hot your face is.

“What're you…?” His thumb passes over your lower lip, and the words fall away.

“Tell me you want this.” Your eyes flicker to his hand, then to his face. His other hand is at the top of your jeans, fingers resting on the edge of your waistband. Excited arousal hits your gut, sizzling like browning butter, warm and toasted. His eyes are dark, caramel on the verge of burning. “If you don't, I'll pretend like this never happened. I'll never touch you again.”

I'll never touch you again, he says, like it's not the last thing you'll ever want.

“I want this,” you murmur. “Touch me. Please.”

“Good,” Carmy praises, one quiet word enough to sear your insides with heat, blue flame on the underside of a pan. “That's what I thought.”

His hands slip behind you to untie your apron. The strings fall to your sides, and you tug it hastily up and over your head. It falls to the floor next to you. Surely that's a gigantic health hazard, but Carmy's the one who throws it there, so you don't say anything. You lower your gaze to his fingers unbuttoning your pants. The sight of it makes you woozy. You take note of his other tattoos, noticing the letters on his fingers. You watch as the stabbed hand made of ink on his right disappears under the cloth of your underwear.

“Oh,” you breathe. You didn't expect his hand to be so warm, even though you had just felt his heated palm gentle on your cheek.

“You're wet.” The tip of his index finger dips into where your hot folds separate. It strokes at the fluid that's pooled at your entrance, coaxing it out. “When did this happen?”

“Fuck you is when,” you bite back, but it's all bark. “I don't know.”

“Sure,” he agrees, but not really. His condescending smile shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't, but your pussy throbs against his hand, and he smiles knowingly. “All you need is me to talk and you get wet, is that it?”

“I—” His finger rises upward, splitting you open and flicking at your clit. You buck against his hand. “Don't ask me a question and then touch me like that,” you hiss, horribly turned on.

“Mm, sorry.” It's barely an apology. You throw your head back in frustration. “I didn't mean to.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you pant. He's pushed your slick up your pussy to your clit, two slick fingers sliding back and forth on your stiff nub. The pads of his calloused fingers are rubbing you almost where you're too sensitive.

“Then don't. I don't care what you think of me.” You think he's about to get his fingers inside of you, and your breath hitches, but he pulls back. You regret the frustrated whine that is just audible enough in the back of your throat. He does it again, just barely pushing the tips of fingers in before pulling away.

“You—why—do you want me to beg or something?” Your clenched hands raise by your sides to grip the collar of his white shirt and yank him forward. The shock that flashes across his face gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“It wouldn't hurt,” he mumbles. Seeing him stagger like this, even if briefly, sends a rush through your head.

“Is that what it's gonna take for you to get those fucking fingers inside me?”

Like a coward, instead of answering, he leans an inch forward and kisses you. Or maybe that was his answer. That's when he sinks two fingers inside you, long and thick, pushing until your wet pussy's pressed tight against his palm.

You moan, a pathetic thing, and Carmy swallows the sound of it.

“You're already begging,” he says quietly. He pulls his fingers out. You whine in protest, desperate and angry pleas on the tip of your tongue, but then he's pushing inside again.

That's the last moment of reprieve you get. His fingers start thrusting into you faster, dragging out slick each time he pulls them out. Paranoia suddenly screams that you’re gonna wet the front of your pants at this rate. The aching pleasure is louder than your fear, though. You can’t help the way his fingers are making you moan.

“More,” you plead, “give me another, I can take it.” Your hips are thrusting forward to meet his hand when they push inside. Your clit slaps against the heel of his palm, and you chase the friction. He must notice, because when he obliges and stretches you out with a third finger, he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit.

“You have to be quiet,” he says lowly when you keep moaning. “They’re gonna hear you.”

“I—I’m trying,” you whine. You’re squeezing so tight down on him. You feel so full. “Your fingers—“

“You’re the one who asked for more.” He slaps his other hands firmly over your mouth. It silences your sound of surprise. “You said you could take it, so here’s what’s gonna happen.” His fingers are slamming into your now, and your hole spasms around them in pleasure. “You’re gonna come on my fingers, and you’re gonna be quiet. Understand?”

You know how soundproof the walk-in is. You had just witnessed it moments ago. But Carmy’s warnings do something fierce to you, bypassing logic straight into anxious, desperate arousal. He’s right, you think. You need to be quiet. You nod quickly in response, so he takes your consent and sprints with it.

To your credit, you try to be quiet. You said you would. But there’s only so much you can do when he’s fingering you so hard your legs are shaking. You’re whimpering into his hand, the sounds muffled. Your own moans, his heavy breathing, and the slick sound of your pussy getting railed by his fingers—that’s what you listen to as you come.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing down tight,” Carmy hisses, and for an irrational second you’re afraid you’re hurting him, but one look at his starved expression changes your mind. His three wide fingers are fucking you slowly through your wildly contracting orgasm. In one of his palms, you're oozing slick, and in his other palm, you're smearing with spit.

You should be thinking about how bad of an idea this all is, having sex with your boss. It’s too bad your orgasm is so potent you can’t think at all.

You lean your head back against the cold metal railings of the wire racks behind you. It’s uncomfortable, but a part of it feels good against the coiling heat that’s unraveling in your stomach. The air around you is cold, but you’re hot, far too hot. You don’t remember the last time you’ve finished this hard.

He finally pries his hand off your mouth once you've stopped clamping down on his fingers. His hand lingers at your face before wiping it on the side of his jeans. His expression has this unreadable, unnamed intensity to it, and you can't tell where that ends and where the hunger starts. Although he is looking very, very starved.

His hand that's tucked into your underwear tugs it upward as it leaves, pulling the fabric taut against your pussy. It sticks like paper mache with the glue of your orgasm, molded to your shape. You make an aroused noise that's a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

You're about to complain, something along the lines of “was that really necessary”, but then your eyes are zeroed in on the sheen of his fingers that were fucking you.

“Don't,” you start, suddenly worried he's going to wipe them on his jeans again, but you don't get to finish. He's pushing his index finger into your mouth, and you taste yourself on his skin.

“Good,” Carmy whispers when he feels your tongue wrapping around him. Fuck, hearing him say it like that does awful things to you.

You don't know why you accept it without a fight, but if you're being honest with yourself, this is exactly what you wanted. You start to suck, but he doesn't linger. When he pulls his finger out, your parted lips expect the other two, but he sucks them into his mouth instead.

God. What do you even say to that? He even has the nerve to look you in the eyes as he pops his cleaned fingers out of his mouth.

“Let me touch you,” you decide to say instead, because if you think about him and his fingers in—anyway.

“It's fine. I don't need it.” He's oddly cagey all of a sudden.

“Let me return the favor, please,” you insist, even adding in some good manners. It seems to still him for a moment, giving you enough time to lift his apron.

Fuck, you think to yourself, the word resounding like an alarm inside your head. His jeans are tented so tightly it looks painful. All this from touching me, you realize. You can see the shape of his bulge under the denim. The silhouette is vague, but...

It's big.

“Carmy? You still in there?”

A voice you don't recognize calls out beyond the door. As soon as you both hear it, Carmy jerks away. You mourn the loss only for a moment before you remember yourself. You're scrambling to get your pants buttoned and your apron over your head.

“Yeah, I'm still in here,” Carmy shouts back, instantaneously irritable. His back is turned to you, and you want to feel those muscles tensing under your palm. “About fuckin’ time!”

“You're welcome, by the way! I could've left you in here to freeze and die a tragic death!”

“It's not just me in here, Fak.” A beat of silence. “Are you opening it?”

“Am I fucking—Jesus Christ, Carmen, just give me a second! I'm working my magic!”

That shuts Carmy up. Almost. He sighs before turning to look at you.

“Sorry for getting us stuck in here.” The apology is equally as surprising as the softness of which he speaks. “Shitty first day, huh?”

“It's cool. It's not your fault.” Other than all the shit that was completely your fault, you think, remembering the way you were shouting at each other just a moment ago. “Kinda shitty though, yeah.”

“Yeah.” He sighs again. “If you wanna leave, I don't blame you.”

“I thought I wasn't getting fired.”

“You're not,” he says quickly. “But I'm—this place is a shitshow.” You're not sure which he really means to say, but you hear both. The restaurant, and him especially, are both complete messes. That much was obvious from the beginning. “So if you wanna take off, just…” He shrugs. “Just go.”

Maybe that'd be for the best, if you left. As far as first days go, you've already broken every rule in the book. You messed up your first task, got into an argument with your boss, and then had sex with him. Nothing about this place is particularly inviting, either. This restaurant wears its dysfunction on its sleeve, unabashed in all the ways it lacks. You had left the kitchen with ringing ears from all the noise and a cut on your hand you didn't even notice.

But here you are. You're not running. Maybe it's because of the fact that you need to pay rent. Maybe it's knowing that just one more pair of hands here could really make a difference. Maybe you're just desperate to keep food on the table. Maybe it's Carmen Berzatto, beautiful, haunted, and angry. Maybe it's all of that, a combined whole that's become greater than the sum of its parts.

Or maybe it's just that now that you've kissed him, had a taste of him, you refuse to let go. Maybe the reason is as shallow as that.

Carmy's been waiting for you to speak, tired eyes searching your own. You're still not sure what exact colors you need to perfectly recreate the blue you're staring at.

“Almost done!” Fak shouts. “Just one more hinge!”

“Heard,” Carmy shouts back. He hasn't taken his eyes off you. “So? What's it gonna be? Are you staying or not?”

Blood orange, you think all of a sudden. That's the orange you would need to make the perfect blue to match his eyes. Just a little bit—that's all you would need.

“I'm staying,” you tell him. “I need to pay rent, after all.”

Yeah. That's the reasoning you're settling on. Rent.

“Right. Of course.” There's a glimpse of that gentle smile you've seen flashes of today. It fades away as quickly as it came. “After this, I'm gonna have you learn how to check produce next.”

“Okay, sounds good,” you say as naturally as you can, given the tonal whiplash.

“There should be some that's about to get washed. I'll show you where that is.” The door's shifting. “But before that…” He lowers his voice, leans in close. Is he about to kiss you?

“W-What?”

“Get a new apron from my office. That one's dirty.” Beams of light stream through the entrance of the walk-in, forced wide open. “You need to keep your apron clean, chef.”

YOU WERE THE ONE WHO THREW IT ON THE GROUND, you want to scream. Just when you thought he started being nice, he does something that makes you want to grab him by the collar and shake him.

But you can't. The walk-in's open again, and you see your coworkers crowded by the door.

“Yes, chef,” you reply, and the words taste bitter on your tongue.

@zorrasucia

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Note

Can you write something where reader patches up the Sully sons, maybe after a fight or a mission?

Some hurt/comfort today today? I can do that.

Pairing: Neteyam, Lo'ak x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, injury recovery, blood mention, hand kisses, cuddles, bruises, flirting, teasing

A/N: Currently my period is killing me but I have some Battinson and Dottore smut fics that I'm hoping to get done tomorrow.

NETEYAM

He is very careful when he goes on missions, most of the time he's completely fine, maybe a light scratch here and there but nothing too serious

But of course when a member of his family is in danger on the battlefield he will throw caution to the wind in order to save them and get himself pretty hurt

Not only does he get dragged in but he is very, very banged up

Winces when you run in to hug him but hugs you back on the less and kisses you on the forehead as you lead him away from the crowd

Doesn't pull away as you clean his cuts and bandage him up, tries to stand really still too even though you can see him grimacing and his ears twitching from pain

Sees you tearing up at his injuries and the danger he constantly puts himself in, his first instinct is to wrap his bandaged hand around you and bring you close to his chest, letting hear his heartbeat

He's alive, he's here, he has so much to come back to, so don't you worry about him, these injuries are nothing when compared to the thought of losing those he loves

Places a brief kiss on your lips, hissing due to the cut on his lower lip which does start bleeding again

No more kisses for him until he gets better

Ah, but he likes them so much, look he's already better from just one, he happily hops up on his feet and does a little twirl around, unable to keep his smile the whole way but still getting a chuckle out of you

LO'AK

He knew he was gonna get into a fight sooner or later with his rebellious spirit and really what better time then when he defends his siblings and his girlfriend

Does not want to hear you scolding him, he knows he's gonna get plenty of that from his family when you patch him up

If you think he looks beat up you should see the other guys, but not right now, right now he wants to brag about he totally won that fight and how you should give him his victory kiss

As charming and cute as he is with that smile of his you don't want him carelessly throwing himself into situations like these

He lets out an involuntary yelp when you press your fingers along the bruise forming on his jaw as you turn his face to the side to apply the healing balm

Uses the opportunity to kiss the inside of your palm, slowly and carefully, unlike his punches in the fight

Doesn't like that he can't feel your hands in his with all these wrappings around his hands and knuckles but he can kiss your hands, your arm, your shoulder, your cheek, your lips as a special form of apology that he's upset you

You laughter and smile is seriously his favorite medicine in the whole world

Playfully tackles you on your back and pampers your face with kisses and doesn't budge even as you playfully, lightly push on his shoulders

See, he can still put up a fight, with the right motivation, the motivation being your kisses

#avatar x you #avatar x reader #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x reader #lo’ak imagine #lo’ak #neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #avatar neteyam #avatar #avatar imagines #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #x reader

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chiriwritesstuff · 3 months

Text

The Girl in IT - 7. The All Hands Meeting

A Boss! Joel Miller x IT Specialist F! Reader AU

The LIST │ Series Masterlist

Chapter Rating: E (18+, MDNI)

Chapter Summary: A look into a typical day at Miller Construction Group. Chaos ensues (naturally).

Chapter Warnings and Tags: No outbreak AU, Boss x Employee Relationship, Sugar Daddy Lite, Smut, SO MUCH SMUT, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger woman, So much dirty talk, Office sex, Desk sex, Inappropriate usage of PowerPoint, Tommy fucks around and finds out, No Beta we die like men!

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: And the hijinks are back! I wanted to try something new this week, and it was the perfect opportunity to showcase all of our fun supporting characters in 'The Girl in IT'! I thought what better way to introduce everyone was to include their commentary, like an episode of 'The Office'! This one is a doozy, and I hope you all enjoy!

#MCG ADMIN 50 members Sarah (HR) Good morning, Team! I hope you're all doing well. I'd like to announce a mandatory All-Hands HR Meeting today at 11 am in Conference Room A, co-facilitated by Tess and me. We'll have a brief presentation, and for those working remotely, please log into Zoom to join the meeting. Following the session, thanks to Bill, we'll have lunch and refreshments provided. Feel free to reach out if you have any questions. Looking forward to seeing all of you soon! Tommy Sarah, are you gonna bust your Papi's balls in front of everyone for posting that naughty photo? 💀☠️🪦 Frank (Interior Design) Will there be an opportunity for discussion following the presentation? I'm eager to delve into the minds of SlackGate and understand the motivations behind their actions the other day. Connie (Reception) It's clearly because they're fucking, Frank. 🍆🍑🦪 Frank (Interior Design) Who is? Our fearless leader and our shy girl in IT? Until one of them makes it official, it's just hearsay! Is this meeting a hard launch for a new power couple? 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 Sarah (HR) Yes, there will be an open-forum discussion after my presentation but NO, we will not be talking about the events of the other day in detail. Connie, this is a professional space and we will conduct ourselves as such. Connie (Reception) Why am I always being singled out?? Frank started it! Frank (Interior Design) Did I not professionally conduct myself? Geez Connie, I'm not the one sending nudes to our Boss when clearly, he has a girlfriend. Wait. Oops? (Sorry Connie 🤡) Bill (Civil) Frank! What do I have to do to get you to behave for once? Frank (Interior Design) Oh, I could think of a few ways... Why don't you come and find out once you're done handling your bratwurst out there? Sarah (HR) I don't get paid enough for this shit.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming together at such short notice. While I'm aware this all-hands meeting was abrupt, recent events in the past few days have made it essential. Tess and I genuinely appreciate your presence as we address these important matters," Sarah says with a bright smile, handing out materials. "Here's an updated Employee Handbook with a few edits. I thought it would be beneficial for us to go through it together. Are there any questions before we begin?"

"Yeah!" Tommy exclaims from the back of the room, his feet casually resting against the edge of the table. "How long until we get to the part of this meeting where we discuss just how much of a bad boy your Daddy was the other day?"

Tommy Look, I love my brother, I do. He's always so serious, so noble, providing for everyone and all that, making sure we have a roof over our heads. Shit, he's gotten me out of a lot of binds in my life- [He looks a bit uncomfortable and clears his throat, nodding.] ... anyway, it's a rare thing to see my brother slip up like that, you know? Didn't think he had it in him, honestly. It's been a few decades since I've seen his twig and berries, but shit, I know he's packing! He's a Miller, for fucks sake! [he puffs his chest out a little at that, chuckling to himself] But Sugar? She's been a fucking godsend! Never in my life have I seen my big ol brother act a fool, especially over a woman! What can I say? It's great to not be the fuck-up brother for once! I'm gonna milk out SlackGate til the end of time!

"Tommy," Joel warns through his teeth, glaring at his brother. "Cut it out."

Sarah rolls her eyes in response as she fiddles with her laptop, the projector behind her illuminating with her PowerPoint presentation. "Like I was saying, this presentation is just going to go over the changes we have implemented in the last few days, including proper Slack etiquette and conduct. You would think that as grown adults, we would know better than sending inappropriate images and messages through company property and time," she clears her throat, glancing over at Joel, then to Tommy, who winks in her direction knowingly. "...including those who decide to engage and participate in unsanctioned secret channels-"

Frank's hand suddenly shoots up, his face awash in mock outrage. "I'll have you know, the watercooler channel serves a purpose, folks! When I caught wind of this 'secret channel' gossip circulating among the Nosy Nancies in the breakroom, I was appalled! Who would dare to stoop so low—"

"Frank, you invited me to the chat just this morning," Jesse remarks, casually holding up his phone as evidence. "It's titled 'Frank's-secret-slack-chat.' I thought it was some kind of exclusive club or something."

Frank Hi, [waves to you] is this on? Yeah? Hi. I'm Frank. Listen, Sarah was getting a little too vigilant about monitoring Slack ever since Tommy sent us a little treat last year [he laughs] so I had to do something about it, you know? [It pans out to Frank leaning against his desk chair, typing away on his secret Slack Chat.] The chat started as an open forum for discussion on the everyday going-ons of Miller Construction Group. Do we just so happen to discuss the private lives of our peers? Maybe. Do we mean any harm by it? [He gives you a wicked smile] Maybe.

"You guys, you know, the longer I keep getting interrupted, the longer we're all going to stay here in this conference room, and the longer we have to wait to eat Bill's food. You know how he is," She looks outside of the window, the smoke from Bill's grill swirls like a plume as he flips over a juicy steak. "He hates it when he has to serve his food cold. As I was saying, it should be obvious that we shouldn't be sending inappropriate images or photos to one another through Slack or e-mail."

"Hey! It was just one time, and it was an accident!" Tommy retorts, "Besides, it was hardly inappropriate, I was just only trying to show Maria this weird rash I got-"

"What does that mean, anyway?" Connie cuts in, casting a glance your way. "Inappropriate photos? And is there a difference between accidentally sending them or doing it on purpose?"

"Yeah," you shoot her a pointed look. "Sending nude photos to someone who doesn't want them is actually considered sexual harassment," you say, raising your voice a bit and turning in your seat. "I mean, you could get arrested for that, Connie," you add with a sing-song tone, a smirk playing on your lips as you glance at her. "You have nothing to worry about though, right?" you challenge, rolling your chair towards Joel, and taking his hand in his. "Not unless you did send naked photos to my boyfriend?"

Connie Look, I didn't know that Mr. Miller and Sugar were boning. I know how this looks- like I don't believe in girl code or something. I am a girls girl! If Sugar was just forthcoming about who gave her those damn hickeys before SlackGate happened, I wouldn't have sent her boyfriend nude photos of myself! A girl's gotta try, you know? I was only trying to shoot my shot! [She looks a bit uncomfortable, picking at a hangnail.] ... but you have to admit, Mr. Miller is H-O-T hot. God. I love me a graying man in flannel. I always thought to myself, there must be a story here. How does a millionaire who looks like that be single all this time? does he have anyone? is it a sugar baby? does he have a secret love child? I mean- [she looks over her shoulder where Joel is, arms around his chest as he winks at Sugar. There's a hint of jealousy in Connie's eyes.] Is it true, though? Is it really sexual harassment if I send unsolicited photos of myself? Do you think he's gonna press charges?

"It's true. Sending unsolicited photos of yourself to unsuspecting parties is sexual harassment, Connie. Not to mention creepy," Sarah winces, shooting you an apologetic smile. "So please don't be sending any photos of that nature to anyone that you work with, especially not in the admin group Slack."

"Yeah, Joel!" Tommy chides. "Keep that shlong in your pants, brother!"

Sarah You would think that working for my family is a cakewalk? Please. I've been diagnosed with IBS and GAD since I started working here five years ago. I sometimes take half an edible just to make it to lunchtime. [Her head rests on her desk, and as the events of SlackGate unfold, an endless barrage of messages from the admin Slack channel floods her monitor. She can't help but groan in response.] Listen. I love my Dad. I've never really had to worry about his behavior at work before, not like how I have to with Uncle Tommy... but what the hell was he thinking? I can't unsee that! What if Ellie was on that chat? Could you imagine the trauma? My trauma?

"Okay, let's turn to page 12, where we'll go over all the recent updates," Sarah announces, clicking through her PowerPoint. A collective gasp echoes in the room as the slide projects onto the screen, revealing an image – the image of Joel. However, where his exposed package would be, an eggplant emoji tastefully takes its place. It resembles one of those generic memes easily made with a phone app, complete with the semi-imposed words 'Keep Calm and Shlong On!' in big bold letters.

"Shit!" she exclaims, hurriedly pressing the ESC button as she tries to close out her PowerPoint. She slams her laptop shut, the tell-tell sound of a crack echoing throughout the conference room. You hear Tess silently scoff in the distance, and Sarah closes her eyes in embarrassment as the room falls silent.

... and then, all hell breaks loose.

Tommy is beside himself, his face red, and his eyes filled with tears as he doubles over in laughter, clutching at his middle. "Shit, Henry! When I asked you to do this, I honestly didn't think you had the balls to go through with it, but I so owe you, my man!" he exclaims, enthusiastically high-fiving his nephew-in-law. "This is the best fucking day of my life!"

"Henry?!" Sarah exclaims, her face flushed with rage. "This is what you needed to do in the office at 6 am this morning?!"

Henry's expression crumbles as he witnesses his wife's ire, suddenly realizing that he's just dug himself into a deep hole. "Sarah," he stammers, attempting to regain composure. "This isn't what it looks like—"

Henry Yeah, Tommy asked me to put that meme into Sarah's PowerPoint last night. I would have done it at home, but Sarah doesn't like to bring her laptop home, you know, work-life balance? So I had to make an excuse to come to the office this morning. Was it a dumb ass idea? Yeah, probably. Did I kind of want to get back at Sarah's dad for making my life a living hell? [He looks at you awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.] Honestly, when you're like five beers in, drinking with Tommy- everything seems like a good idea. He dared me, you know? Said that I'm such a simp, trying to always please Joel. Called me a fucking pussy and everything! What else was I supposed to do? Sarah's going to kill me, huh? Do you think that she's gonna ask for a divorce?

"It's a meme. A meme of my Dad's dick pic with AN EGGPLANT EMOJI?!?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??! WHAT DID YOU MEAN FOR IT TO LOOK LIKE?!" she screams, pulling at her hair. "AND YOU, TOMMY MILLER!" she points at her uncle furiously, "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??!"

"Baby," Henry replies, his hands raised in an attempt to calm her down. "It's just a harmless prank, look—"

"No, you look, Henry! Does it seem like it's just a harmless prank?" she gestures to the room, her eyes wide. "Don't even think about coming to bed tonight. I can't even look at you! How dare you collaborate with Tommy, do you really want to go this way? Because I see you fucking around, and you're about to find out-"

"Oh come on, Sarah! you know these all-hands meetings are dull as fuck, I don't even know why you even bother, no one ever listens anyway!" Tommy exclaims, looking around the room. "Isn't this fun you guys? Come on, lighten up! It's not like y'all haven't seen my dick before! Your Papi's gonna live another day, I think we should all feel as comfortable as we want, fuck the rules!"

"...but Joel's is much bigger than yours!" someone yells amid the chaos, laughter, and banter echoing through the room. Sarah looks around helplessly in a panic, trying to grasp the situation unfolding.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I ain't small!" Tommy yells in retaliation.

"Do you think that this is helping, Uncle Tommy? I'm beginning to believe that the only reason why people don't take me seriously is because of all of the shit that you pull!" Sarah groans, looking like she's at the end of her rope. "I could mention that Tess is helping me facilitate this meeting to scare everyone but she's just off to the side, pretending to not be drinking under the table!"

Tess [She is sitting off to the side, smiling to herself as the chaos ensues, shaking her head.] I am drinking, because who else thinks it's appropriate to call an all-hands meeting first thing in the morning? I don't even want to be here. It's so fucking pointless, trying to get these shitheads to conform to a set of rules. [She witnesses Joel storming up to Tommy, his face full of rage and irritation, finger pointed right at him.] This is the consequence of hiring friends and family, isn't it? I tried to tell them it was a bad idea, but who's listening to me? I get it, everyone thinks I'm a bit of a bitch, and well... yeah, I am. Alright, time to rein this in— [She suddenly stands from her seat and walks over to Sarah, who appears to be disassociating into madness.]

"HEY!" Tess bellows, clapping her hands together. The room abruptly falls silent, Joel's hands frozen mid-grab on Tommy's flannel. Forty-eight pairs of eyes pivot towards Tess, a blend of shock and embarrassment spreading across their faces, reminiscent of children caught sneaking cookies from the jar by their mother. "Okay, that's enough!"

Her eyes are narrowed, hands on her hips. "This is what's going to happen. You're going to stop sending each other dick and tit pics through Slack, because as much as it is amusing," she smirks, winking at you, "I would really rather not have to deal with the fallout that comes with it," she shoots a pointed look at Connie, whose eyebrows shoot up to her hairline.

"The next time someone tries to fuck around and find out? I'm going to take that dirty photo, print a thousand fucking copies of it and stick that shit all over the office. Every fucking inch, every fucking nook and cranny is just gonna be dick and tit central," she paces around the room, placing a warning hand on Frank's shoulder. "As for this secret Slack chat, I'm going to give you all one chance to come clean. If you don't, and Sugar's report doesn't match who outs themselves right now," She scans the room, a smirk on the corner of her mouth appearing in satisfaction. "Yeah, you didn't think that we were monitoring that shit, huh? Well, I'll throw you all a bone: raise your hands if you are in this secret group chat, and I'll consider not docking your pay for insubordination. Your choice."

Frank [Looking at Tess as she slightly stumbles from where she's standing.] Yeah, she's toast.

The majority of the room begins to raise their hands, except you, Tess, Joel, and surprisingly, Frank.

Tess scoffs. "Really Frank? Really?"

"I have no clue what you're trying to imply, and seriously Tess? Are you really going to play that card? Are you going to dock your pay too?" Frank retorts. "I mean, just last night, you were drunkenly telling me that you heard Joel and Sugar-"

"If you utter another word, I'll fire you on the spot, Frank!" Joel shouts from across the room. "I mean it this time!"

Joel and Sugar [Joel wraps his arm around your waist, leaning in to kiss your forehead while gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ears.] There, that's better. Don't hide your face, Mami; you're too beautiful to be hiding all of that, okay? Right, [he clears his throat.] You would think that people would be a little more professional around here, show me a bit of respect— [His gaze shifts to Tommy, who's engaged in laughter and banter with the team, his chest puffed out in triumph. Joel glares at him, shaking his head.] I'd like to think I try really hard to be a good boss. I pay fairly, I allow remote work, and damn it, I take pride in offering the best employee benefits in all of Austin. We even take a company trip to Hawaii every year, for fucks sake! [You squeeze his hand, pressing a kiss to his temple as he takes a frustrated breath.] Papi, if it means anything, I think you're the best boss any of these folks could ever ask for. They don't deserve you. [Joel nods.] Look, I don't know what to tell you. I got the ride of my life that morning, my sweet Mami riding my cock just right, you know? I would have been okay, going into my meeting with blue balls, just as long as Sugar got hers. Your pleasure is my pleasure... but I was just so fucking horny! I started to work out, yeah? Wanted to keep shit tight for my baby, and fuck, I was... what do they young kids say? Feeling yourself? [Joel nods again, smiling at you.] Yeah, 'feeling myself' or whatever. Anyway, I was in the meeting, and you messaged me, right? saying that you weren't going to be in for lunch? and I don't know if was the disappointment, or if I was just too horny, but fuck. I quickly excused myself and took a quick dick pic in my bathroom. I thought I was in the right Slack channel... so I sent it, and then the guys at The H Group asked me a whole bunch of questions, and then an hour later- Chaos. The messages kept flooding in! Frank was asking about how long I was, and Connie was sending me nude photos of herself- in my fucking office! Wait, what? [Your gaze meets Connie's, nervously seated as Frank goes on and on beside her. Her hands twitch like a possum that just got run over by an 18-wheeler. Yeah. Squirm for me, you think to yourself.] Yeah! And I just sat there, in shock, you know? Like this is the kind of shit that Tommy pulls, and I couldn't believe that I was so fucking stupid! Can you imagine the kind of therapy Sarah's gonna need? What if Ellie saw this?

"Who's up for some snacks?" Tommy calls out to the team, holding a basket filled with rather sizable cucumbers, bananas, and eggplants. "Help yourselves, compliments of Joel!"

Ellie [at the job site across town, hard hat fixed crookedly on top of her head.] Yeah, I saw it. There is not enough bleach in this world that could ever erase that image from my existence. [she glares at Sam, who just shrugs.] Thanks a lot, asshole!

"Alright, you degenerates!" Bill booms, bursting through the conference doors wearing a 'Kiss the Cook' apron, tongs in one hand, and a tray piled high with thickly cut steaks in the other. "This steak isn't going to eat itself!"

The team swarms Bill like seagulls spotting a tasty piece of bread on the boardwalk. Tommy grabs a t-bone with his bare hands, biting into it with the enthusiasm of a caveman.

"Hey," Joel whispers to you, his shoulder gently bumping yours. "Want to help me with something?" You nod eagerly as Joel swiftly guides you out of the conference room, heading towards the executive offices. You giggle as Joel ushers you into the room, pulling you into a kiss, his foot playfully kicking the door shut.

He moves the both of you over to where Tommy's desk is, pushing aside its contents off the tabletop in one fell swoop, the items clattering onto the floor. "Papi, what are you doing?" you ask cheekily as he bends you over the desk, lifting your skirt.

Joel growls and shoves you down onto the desk, his hands harshly grabbing onto your hips. Your arms scramble to find purchase as you knock over a framed photo of Tommy and Maria, watching helplessly as the image of their smiling faces falls onto the floor. His palm travels across your back, pinning you in place as he fiddles with his zipper with his other hand. "Line item 6," Joel murmurs as his hands begin to travel across the globes of your ass, squeezing and spreading and slapping them until you're so wet you can feel it dripping down your thighs.

Joel hums in appreciation. "Thats right Mami, get nice and wet for me, okay?" You can feel him pump his cock against you, notching his head at your entrance. "You gonna make a nice mess for me, baby?" he asks through gritted teeth as he strokes through your folds with his dick.

"Yesss," you moan, pushing your ass back toward him.

Joel pushes into you to the hilt in one brutal thrust as you cry out, grabbing onto the edge of the desk as he begins to pound into you in earnest, his thrusts so hard and punishing that the desk begins to rattle. You squeeze your eyes shut as Joel gathers your hair in his hand, pulling you back towards him. "Fuck baby, I'm gonna come so fucking hard, fill this pussy up and watch as it drips out of you, maybe fuck you again if we still have time-"

You gasp, taking a deep breath as his thrusts become so erratic it pushes you up the desk, lifting one leg onto the surface as Joel angles himself higher, hitting a spot so deep within you that you bite your lip from crying out, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. You squeeze around his cock as you chase your high, hoping that Joel can maintain his composure long enough so you both can finish together. "No Mami, stay with me, come with me-"

He leans over you, pressing you onto the desk as he grabs onto your shoulders, pounding into you, his breath hot against your neck as he buries his face into it, huffing from exertion. "I'm so close Mami, I'm gonna... Fuck!" He bites your shoulder as he cums in one last brutal stroke, his hands harshly grasping your thighs as you feel his hot spend flow deep into your belly. You rock your hips onto him as his hand goes to your clit, rubbing until you are weak in the knees, your body trembling beneath his. "Fuck Joel," you say a little breathless as you slump onto the table as Joel pulls out of you, his finger probing into you as he pushes his leaking cum back where it belongs. "Come on, lets clean this up and head back before they notice-"

Joel just snorts as he zips up his jeans. "No," he replies nonchalantly as he catches his breath.

"No?" you ask as you straighten yourself up, frowning at him.

"Line item six says I bend you over his desk and leave a little souvenir," he motions to the mess on the floor, pens and papers scattered about.

"He's going to fucking murder you, Joel," you chuckle, pulling him into a kiss.

"Yeah? Well, he shouldn't have fucked around, because he's about to find out." He simply replies, taking your hand in his. "Come on, little Mami, quickly now, before he realizes we're gone..."

You share a laugh as he guides you back into the conference room. Bill raises an eyebrow at both of you, handing over a plate with steaming steak, as if he just finished cooking it. "I thought I'd save your lunches for last, figured you guys needed some extra time," he says, clearing his throat and nodding towards Tommy, who seems entirely oblivious to your brief disappearance. "You know Tommy, can't resist a good piece of steak," Bill continues, gesturing at Joel. "It's like everything around him disappears for a moment; you could rob him blind, and he wouldn't even notice," he adds with a small smile, placing a hand on Joel's shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "Enjoy your lunch, you two."

Bill Look, I wouldn't call myself a nosy person, but I am perceptive. [He glances at Frank whispering and giggling to Connie off to the side, rolling his eyes.] Look at them. They think that they're the eyes and ears of this operation, but what they don't know, is that I. Know. Everything. I am a survivalist. I gather intel on all of my surroundings, even if I am surrounded by absolute morons. [Bill takes another sip of coffee, subtly glancing around him before making eye contact with you, the reader, once more] So if you want to know the real scoop, the real ins-and-outs of this company, and not have to deal with the lunatics in Frank's not-so-secret shit talk club, come to me, I'll set you on the right path. At least I have snacks. [He looks off to you and Joel, giving a curt nod as he starts to cut into his own steak.] As much as I respect Tommy, he's not the one signing my checks at the end of the day. If there's anything that I value more than anything, it's loyalty. I don't like to play around, hate it when people bite the hands that feed them. People like that need to be taught a lesson. Joel's a good man, and sometimes, we fuck up... but it's how we handle ourselves after the fact that matters. If that means I help out an old friend, well- [he smiles as Tommy walks towards the conference room doors, heading back to his office. Bill smiles out into the distance.]

Taglist: @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @gwendibleywrites @brittmb115 @joeldjarin @drewharrisonwriter

@littlebunnybigheartfics @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @quicax3 @casa-boiardi

@amyispxnk @untamedheart81 @paleidiot @laurrrra @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@bbiophiliaa @thewiigers (I apologize if I missed anyone, but if you are looking for any of my fic updates, please feel free to follow my updates blog @chiriwritesstuffnotifs!)

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multifandomfanfic · 1 year

Note

neymar insta au ???? maaaybe ex bf ney still obsessed

A/N: i love u for this anon. I'm sorry but i kind of turned the reader into a tennis fan, so i hope you don't mind! i also did not know where to end this one lol.

Neymar Jr. x reader

neymarjr added to their story

yourusername

liked by antonelaroccuzzo, versace, imsebastianstan, and 11,214,917 others

yourusername: 'mom, i am a rich man.'

caradelevingne: a serve

simoneashley: honestly i'm sorry i told you not to wear those gloves yourusername: 😘

fanaccoun1: Y/N's really showing Neymar what he's missing.

yourusername: i don't know what you could possibly mean fanaccount1: AJKSHS QUEEN

fanaccount2: not y/n posting this the day after brazil got disqualified 😭

user812: she's entering her revenge era and i am HERE for it

fanaccount3: 😍😍😍

user240: i just know neymar is regretting every decision he's ever made rn

fifagossip

liked by deuxmoi, pierregasly, and 803,237 others

fifagossip: It's been 112 days since Neymar Jr. and y/n y/l/n broke up, yet some of our sources have spotted the football player still wearing jewelry she gave him. Does this mean something? Is the star forward missing the one goal he just couldn't score? Link to the article in bio.

fanaccount4: neymar 😭😭 it's over man

user774: You have to stay hopeful! fanaccount4: once y/n does something suspicious i'll be hopeful. rn it seems like neymar can't get over her. user824: neymar can have any girl in the world--he isn't stuck on her fanaccount4: excuse me?? i'm sorry but have you ever seen y/n y/ln?? any of us would be stuck on her

user619: He probably likes the necklace. So what.

fanaccount5: so what? if you went through as publicized of a breakup as they just did, i would think you wouldn't wear that necklace unless you want people to think you're obsessed

fanaccount6: @yourusername??????????

user005: we need your thoughts queen 🙏

yourusername added to their story

yourusername

liked by zendaya, neymarjr, simoneashley, and 8,790,488 others

yourusername: bonjour monaco 👋 (ft. my friends who aren't staying for the masters)

tagged: zendaya and tchalamet

sydney_sweeney: it's not our fault you like the most boring sport on earth

yourusername: rude sydney_sweeney: it's the truth

taylor_fritz: Glad to have another fan there!

yourusername: 💕 i'm counting on a win fanaccount7: 👀

user504: love how y/n isn't commenting at all on the neymar thing

fanaccount8: It's probably better to ignore it tbh 😆

user929: Neymar????

yourusername added to their story

neymarjr added to their story

yourusername

liked by stefanostsitsipas98, gigihadid, chanel, and 9,654,214 other

yourusername: last week's trip to monte carlo marked the start of a new chapter in my life. i am excited for the journey ahead and to share it with all of you. until next time.

charles_leclerc: so excited for you y/n!

yourusername: thank you! charles_leclerc: of course

nicolaannepeltzbeckham: see you soon ♥

yourusername: ♥♥♥

fanaccount9: y/n really said ight im gonna head out after neymar came to monte carlo

user528: If your ex-boyfriend was still obsessed with you, wouldn't you do the same?

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familyvideostevie · 4 months

Text

living high until that fatal day

a/n: i never do this. literally, never. when i'm not here i'm writing stuff that's not x reader for ao3 and this is a fic i posted over there. it's a time loop story about joel and ellie. @bageldaddy told me i had to post it here. without her this fic would not exist. thank you so much, bea. so, here we go. if you read it, thank you. let me know what you think. joel miller & ellie williams gen fic. 7.5k words warnings: Time Loop, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, kind of???, it resolves, Suicide, only in one of the loops!, Canon-Typical Violence, joel gets stuck and has to figure it out, Father-Daughter Relationship, thoughts about sacrifice and love, POV Joel, mostly, this one is kind of intense folks, major character death tag is cause well the loop ends one way or another, gonna diverge at the end, but it ends well!!! i promise, also this is pretty firmly game but hbo folks should be okay!

summary: joel finds himself stuck in a time loop of that day in salt lake city.

Joel lies to her.

He's got dried blood under his fingernails and his shoulder aches from the kick of the rifle and he's so, so tired.

But he lies to her.

If he was a smarter man he'd have thought of something better. Told her that the hospital got raided or they had a FEDRA mole, how the whole thing was a sham from the start. He doesn't know if she was awake for any of it. If the last thing she remembers is him reaching for her and failing to save her. If she remembers what it feels like to drown.

It's hard to look at her in the mirror but he manages. Just keep driving, hands tight on the wheel. Don't white knuckle, don't spook her. She's in the car. She's safe. He did it.

"We found the Fireflies," he says. She doesn't look at him. "Turns out there's a...a whole lot more like you, Ellie. People that're immune. It's dozens, actually."

There's a strange pull in his gut, a pull that he's felt a few times before in the moments before everything went south. When the soldier pointed his gun by the river, when Tess looked at him on her last day, when he fell off the ledge in Colorado. But he ignores it.

"Ain't done a damn bit of good, either. They've actually st--" Ellie closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She doesn't look at him. "They've stopped looking for a cure. I'm takin' us home. I'm sorry."

She turns her back to him and the pull becomes a burn, becomes a black hole under his ribcage taking everything with him. He blinks once, twice, wonders if he got shot and didn't notice, if he cracked a rib and it punctured his lung, if --

The road in front of him disappears.

He can't see a damn thing -- not like the lights went out, like there is nothing to see. There is nothing in front of him at all.

Then, Joel wakes up yesterday.

___

He jolts awake with a strangled yell. Ellie kneels over him, the rifle he taught her to hold slung over her shoulder. It's just past dawn based on the color of the sky and how he can make out most of her face, her withdrawing hand and her unimpressed but slightly concerned frown.

"You were talking again," Ellie says. "Nightmares?"

Joel tears his eyes from her and thunks his head back down on his crumpled up jacket. The trees stretch high above him and he tries to get it together so he doesn't spook her.

They’re camped within sight of the highway. Salt Lake City has been looming for days now and Joel doesn't want to take any chances. The ring-road is almost clear, dotted here and there with cars and a fair amount of supplies, enough that Joel suspects people haven't been here for some time. If this is another Colorado State situation, he's going to have to put Ellie in a car and take them back to Jackson before she does something stupid.

She's fine. Well, no, not quite. Things aren't the same and they never will be but he can tell she's doing her best and he won't ask more than that. Their pace has slowed this week and he's having a hard time figuring out if she's sliding back into some sort of post-Colorado haze or if she's nervous about actually arriving in Salt Lake.

God knows he's nervous as hell.

But every day she'll walk as far as he tells her to and won't complain. He knows she wants to get there. They have to get there and it has to work -- because he doesn't know what they're going to do otherwise.

She asked him a question. Nightmares. Joel sits up and drags his hand down his face.

"Somethin' like that."

Ellie shrugs and starts to clean up their camp now that he's awake. He still hates letting her take watch, but she needs to feel in control of things, so they split it most nights. She hums a little bit as she works and he has hopes that today might be a good day.

But that dream... It comes back in flashes: the giraffes, the tunnel. Ellie hanging from the side of the bus because she jumped to save him, her small frame sinking slowly, just out of reach. The crack of her ribs underneath his hands. The hospital. The Fireflies.

Joel gets up, rolls his shoulder at a phantom pain and looks down at his hands. Crusted with dirt and nothing more.

Jesus Christ. He's losing it.

They set off.

The blue hospital sign seems to shine in the spring sun all too soon.

"This is where we get off. Let's go, kiddo."

Joel talks even though he knows she's not listening. He talks to take his mind off of the echo that sits at the base of his neck with every step. Has he told her he'll teach her guitar before? He's been thinking it for months.

Ellie trails behind him, kicking rocks and half-heartedly searching cars when he asks her to. She heads for a faded blue sedan but he stops her.

"Blue one won't open, don't bother."

The look she gives him makes him think about what he just said. "How do you know that?"

He blinks. How does he know that? Before he can explain it, Ellie shrugs and keeps walking.

The disinterest is new and it doesn't sit well with him. She's been through a lot, more than any kid deserves, and they're almost there. He figures it's worse today because of that.

"I dreamt about flying the other night."

Joel's stomach twists. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go on, tell me about it."

She tells him about her dream, about how it felt to fly and then fall, and he is dizzy with deja vu.

"I've never been on a plane." Ellie looks at him like he can tell her what it means. Like he has any damn answers at all. "Isn't that weird?"

Joel hums and swallows the lump in his throat. The bus terminal. Ellie, drowning. Firefly after Firefly in his path. His hands flex around a gun that isn't there.

"Well, you know. Dreams are weird." It tastes like a lie in his mouth but he can't figure out why.

It gets worse when they find the bus station, when she runs off in search of something that's got her smiling. Her small hand reaches for the giraffe, her eyes bright, but Joel feels like he's watching it through a fog. He knows what she's going to say before she says it.

"So fucking cool."

Joel has seen a lot of weird shit in his life but whatever is happening here is leagues above the rest. It bumps up against something in his brain, like the answer is just out of reach but he can't fucking get there. Always a step behind when it counts.

Ellie hands him a picture of his dead daughter and something in him comes dangerously close to snapping. Instead of gratitude or sorrow or anything that would make sense, he's terrified.

He's fucking terrified because this happened. Which means he knows what comes next.

But there's no time to worry about it. They pick their way through the tunnel, through the runners and the clickers and the fucking bloaters. The pressure on his neck gets heavier, gets almost unbearable. He's strung tighter than he's been in years, like the walls are closing in on him and there's a timer he can't see.

When they get to the rapids, he waits for Ellie to get to the other side of the bus until he jumps on it but it dislodges. The dam in his head breaks and he yells, screams at her to run, to leave him, but she jumps on the bus anyway.

She drowns.

Joel doesn't doubt that the Fireflies are coming -- he hears them -- but he doesn't take his eyes off of her, doesn't stop the chest compressions until he's knocked out.

The rest of it is a blur, his sense of reality already warped by his need to get to the operating room. To save her.

Joel picks them off one by one, floor by floor, hardly taking note of how familiar it all feels. He doesn't even give the surgeon a chance to speak before he's dead, a bullet between the eyes. He knows they'll make it to the elevator. He kills Marlene. He drives them away.

He lies.

He wakes up yesterday again.

___

It takes a few days before Joel purposely deviates from what he's thinking of as the script. His head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds when he wakes in the clearing, Ellie's eyes on him.

He thinks about it as they pack up camp. Can he get them out of here? Would that be allowed? The rules of this aren't clear to him but he figures it can't hurt to try. They could turn around right now and make it back to Jackson in a week or so.

He watches Ellie carefully arrange her things in her bag, watches her stop to admire a butterfly in the branches above. He watches her and tries to see her alive and not pale on an operating table.

"Ellie," he says. "I got a bad feelin' about this."

She loves to tell him he's overreacting but today she crosses her arms and sits back on her heels. "What do you mean?"

Her scream as she falls into the water. Her ribs cracking beneath his hands. The piercing alarm in the hospital, her body warm but limp in his arms.

"What if we waited?" She frowns but he keeps going. "Went back to Jackson, rested up. Took a break. Come back in a few months with a bit of a crew. Tommy'll give us some guys, hell, I bet he'll come with if you want --"

"No," Ellie says sharply. There's an edge to her voice he hasn't heard in a long time. "Joel, shut up."

"Ellie --"

She stands abruptly, takes a few steps back. "I said no." The look on her face tells Joel he's already lost. "Are you -- are you fucking kidding me? You want to go back? Now?"

He sighs. "Just to rest up. We don't know what we're walking into --"

Ellie throws her hands around in disbelief. Her eyes look wet. Christ, he's made her cry again. He promised himself he wouldn't do that.

"We don't know if they'll still be there."

"We don't know if they are there."

"And we won't find out if we fucking run away like cowards!"

Joel stands. "I don't want another Colorado State situation, Ellie --" Her face shutters. Mistake.

"Don't bring up Colorado," she growls. "You don't know what that was like."

Damn right he doesn't. He knows by now what happened but he'll never know how hard it was for her to survive when he was busy dying on that mattress. But he has to try something or they'll just end up here again tomorrow. Yesterday. Whatever.

The idea of her suffering makes his hackles rise, makes his blood run cold

"Can I finish a god damned sentence?" he snaps. Ellie is undeterred and snaps back.

"Not if it's going to be about leaving. We-- I -- we're not fucking leaving. Not after everything. We can't."

Joel sighs and drags a hand down his face. This girl. He's trying to save her and she can't see it. There's no way to make her see it and it's his fault. She should know by now that he'd do anything, anything, for her. He lost that battle a long time ago, probably longer ago than he'd like to admit.

"I know," he tells her. "Just...if you want to give it all up, to go back, we can. We don't have to go through with this."

Ellie's eyes are blazing and her tone is disappointed. It cuts deep. "Yes we do. I thought you'd understand that, Joel."

He follows her this time as she stalks down the highway towards the hospital. No mention of six strings, no dreams about planes. They catch the giraffes but she doesn't stick around to watch them for as long. It's a different kind of loss to be without her smile, her laughter. Joel wishes he'd never opened his god damned mouth.

"I'm sorry," he says. "For earlier." Ellie pauses on the stairs and half turns to look up at him. "I know it's important to you."

She sighs. "I know you mean well." Joel closes his eyes. He knows what comes next. "But there's no halfway with this. Once we're done, we'll go wherever you want, okay?"

He plays his part for the rest of the day, just to get it over with.

___

Next time, Joel waits until they're watching the giraffes to try something different.

"So," he says. "This everything you were hoping for?"

Ellie gives him her half-smile. "It's got its ups and downs, but...you can't deny that view, though."

He seizes his chance. "Wanna go down there?"

She perks up. "Really? Do you think they'll let us get close?"

"They might. Let's try."

They manage to backtrack a little bit and end up on the field. It smells like a zoo but Ellie is thrilled to be so close so they post up on the roof of a rusty FEDRA Jeep. Two of the giraffes end up eating out of the tree right above them. Ellie holds her breath.

"They just...don't care, do they?" she whispers. "How long do you think they've been here?"

She leans into his side and cranes her neck to watch one of them use its tongue.

"Don't know," he says. "Big ones could've been from before. But the tiny one s'probably younger than you."

"So cool," she says again. "They're from a zoo, right? I wonder if anything else lives in the city."

They've been sitting here long enough that the sun has started to set. Joel allows himself to hope.

"Might be. What do you say we spend the night here and look on the way to the hospital tomorrow? Daylight'll do us better."

Ellie chews on his suggestion. "I guess," she says. "Are we safe here?"

"Should be." Joel has no idea, frankly. He sure as hell wants them to wake up here in the morning. He wants to make good on this idea, wants to show her something else that'll make her smile. He wants this to be a bizarre, unexplainable day that he'll forget about with time.

"I'll keep watch."

They set up camp crowded against the fence so Joel can see the whole field. The giraffes leave them alone and Ellie falls asleep quickly after they eat.

In the quiet open air the dread in his gut returns full-force and he knows he's wrong. Again.

A branch cracks and he whirls around, rifle in hand to find three men pointing their guns at him through the wire. They might be wearing Firefly jackets but he can't tell. He doesn't care. Joel dares to look at Ellie for a second and sees she's still asleep.

It's a mistake.

One of them follows his gaze and his eyes widen.

"Holy shit," he whispers. "She looks like who Marlene said --"

"Shut up," the second one hisses. "On the ground, old man."

"How are you gonna get around that fence, hotshot?" he says. "Ellie. Ellie, wake up."

She blinks a few times and sees his stance. scrambling to her feet with her knife in hand.

"Holy shit. What the fuck?"

"Get behind me."

One of the soldiers points his gun at her.

"Don't move."

It's chaos after that. The guys shout at each other.

"Don't point it at her! Don't you remember the fucking briefing?"

"You hadn't even joined when we got here, you don't know. We've been looking for her for months --"

"If you shoot her we're all dead --"

Joel locks eyes with Ellie.

"When I say run, you run. Okay?"

The fear in her eyes turns to determination. Brave girl, he thinks. I'm sorry. He waits for the idiot pointing at her to look away and takes a deep breath. What's one more day?

"Run!"

Joel doesn't check to see if she obeys before firing through the fence. The rifle is incredibly powerful at such a short range and where there was once a head there's only mist. Joel clears the chamber as fast as he can and gets the second one in the shoulder but he's not fast enough for a third and before he realizes it he's on his back in the grass.

The Firefly's assault rifle litters Joel's chest with bullets but he doesn't feel it until he tries to take a breath and nothing comes. It's like he's underwater.

At least he didn't make her cry this time.

Joel isn't much of a believer in anything but he decides fairly quickly that he's in Hell or something close. God knows he deserves it.

His sins are countless, his ledger dripping with red just like his hands. They will never be clean. What he can't figure out is how he got here. Did he die somewhere in St. Mary's? Is the real world somewhere else beyond his reach, now? If he died then what happened to Ellie?

He tries to make tallies in the bark of a tree on the edge of camp but they disappear every time he wakes up. He makes do with his own slowly unspooling brain. Two, five, ten.

Ellie is much the same every time but somewhere around day twenty she asks him about it. "How do you know where everything is?"

They're in the bus depot before the tunnel. He's taking them quickly around the tents, putting off Ellie handing him a photo of his dead daughter. It's muscle memory at this point. A pair of pliers here, some rags there. A half-empty but uncracked bottle of hooch behind that blood-stained bed, some bullets under that overturned partition.

"Just payin' attention."

"I pay attention!"

Joel uses the excuse to grin at her. It's hard sometimes to remember that she has no idea what's coming, that he can and should be good to her every chance he gets. The violence has already started to blur together in his mind. Killing everyone in the hospital is by far the easiest part of this fucking loop. These parts are harder.

"Didn't say you don't."

"I feel like that was a double negative."

She's still energized from the giraffes and he knows she's working up the courage to talk about Sarah, but right now he wants to spend time with her. He spots the Firefly medal tangled in the shattered floodlight and points it out.

"Ellie," he says. She's at his side in seconds, looking up at him with eyes brighter than he's seen in weeks. "Wanna get that down?"

She gives him her classic why are you like this look. "Are you going to be weird and pick it up?"

Joel shrugs and leans on the rotting tank nearby. "Just want to check your aim."

"My aim is really fucking good and you know it!" Even so, she picks up a brick from her feet and palms it, eyeing the silver circle before winding her arm back and hurling the brick towards it.

She misses. Maybe three hundred miles and a trail of dead bodies ago she'd have stormed off, embarrassed and pissed. But she just makes a face at the still-swinging medal and then looks at him. "How did I miss that?"

He pushes off the tank and scoops up a glass bottle. "Sun s'probably in your eyes." Joel stands next to her and eyes the target, trying to compensate in his mind for her height. "Stand here." Ellie moves over in front of him and he hovers his arm over her. "Can I?"

She nods. Joel presses the bottle into her hand and she takes it as he maneuvers her with a hand on her elbow until she's got the trajectory he thinks will work.

"Now?" she asks. "Feels pretty fucking similar to what I was doing."

"Just trust me. Throw a little lighter than last time. And higher."

Ellie sighs, but once he steps back she does as he says and nails the medal hard enough that it drops to the ground. She whoops and turns around, hands high in the air and a wide smile on her face. Joel tries to breathe through how easily she puts her faith in him.

"Fuck yeah! Did you see that?" She holds both hands out for a high five and he obliges.

"Sure did. Nice job, kiddo."

When Ellie hands him the picture of Sarah, he pulls her in for a hug. He half expects her to shove him off but instead she allows it, twisting her hands in his shirt as he cups the back of her head.

"Thank you," Joel says quietly, thickly.

Later, when he finds her on the operating table, he presses his lips to her forehead for an extra moment before picking her up and heading for the elevator.

He messes with the order of things a little bit. Tries to make their morning last longer, tries to stay watching the giraffes for an hour or so.

Sometimes it works.

Sometimes it doesn't.

Watching Ellie drown over and over fucks with his head more than the hospital does because he can't stop it. At least while he's leaving behind corpse after corpse he knows that she's asleep upstairs, waiting for him. In the tunnel, he knows that the only way out is through, but she has to fucking drown first.

He gets sloppy.

He forgets about the runners in the side rooms when he ducks in to avoid a clicker and takes a step too close. Ellie is behind him as always and he shoves her back blindly as three runners slam him against the metal railing of the stairs before he can reach for his gun. He's too surprised to feel anything, but their breath smells like rotting meat and something worse, something that makes his eyes water.

Joel searches the room for her and finds her -- pale-faced and terrified, already reaching for her knife. He tries to say her name but it comes out as a scream when one of the runners goes for his shoulder, jagged teeth ripping through his shirt in an instant.

"Ellie -- run, Ellie -- GO --" He begs her to leave him but his voice stops working as his throat is ripped out. The last thing he sees is her horrified face as she raises her pistol.

And then he wakes up yesterday.

___

It occurs to him on day 30 -- if he's keeping track accurately -- that he's got one of the smartest people he knows at his disposal. Kid's got an encyclopedic knowledge of space as well as science fiction stories. He asks her while they're still on the highway, stalling though he can see the blue H sign from here.

"Y'ever read stuff about time?" No reply. "Ellie?" She's staring at that deer again. "Ellie."

"What?"

"You read any stories about time back in school?"

"Uh, sure," she says. She tugs her sleeves over her hands and catches up to him, eyes on the ground. "Why?"

"Saw a weird movie 'bout it once. Somethin' reminded me of it this mornin'. Guy gets stuck in a...shit, what did they call it?" Joel peeks inside an RV and smells rot so he leaves it be. "He lives the same day over and over."

"A time loop!" Ellie sounds more excited about this than anything they've talked about for days. "Those are so fucking cool. Scary, though. I feel like I'd go crazy."

Joel drags a hand down his face. "Yeah," he says. "How do you think you get outta one?"

"Well, how did the guy in the movie do it?"

"He stopped bein' an asshole," he says. Ellie laughs.

"Well, we know that's not possible for you. Guess you're fucked."

"Guess so," he mutters.

The H sign is close enough that she'll see it any minute. He wishes for the hundredth time that they could just stay out here all day, just talking. If he had a guitar he'd play for her. If he had a fucking car he'd put her in it and turn around, even though it wouldn't do any good. They'd just end up right back here because he can't fucking figure out how to get out of this.

"I think you just have to change, right?" Ellie says. She's looking at the photo of an airplane on the bus. This time she doesn't tell him about her dream. Is he losing pieces of her, already? "I guess it doesn't have to be about yourself. Maybe something you do, or something you say. It's the universe telling you to make a different choice, right?"

That's the fucking thing. The choice isn't an option. It's not even a choice.

The one thing he hasn't tried and will not try is leaving the hospital when Marlene tells him to. He'd rather die a thousand times, rather live this shit show over and over for the rest of eternity than let them cut her brain out. They will not touch her while there is still breath in his body.

He'd do it all over again. He will.

Joel tries a hundred things and they don't work.

After his conversation with Ellie he decides to really fuck with the day. Doesn't matter, right? So long as she's not put in any extra danger he considers it. He begs her to walk away, get on his knees and pleads with her throughout the day. Doesn't work. She just gets pissed at him like that first time and he doesn't push it because he can't bear to see her cry. He lengthens their morning in the clearing, fakes sick or says the rifle is jammed and needs cleaning. That goes south, too, when a pack of runners wanders through the woods and straight into them. They make it to the highway and have to miss the giraffes because they're running.

One time Joel spends all day zig-zagging them around the city to avoid the tunnel. The Fireflies find them much the same way except they shoot him on sight and grab Ellie right out of his arms as he bleeds out on the cracked asphalt, her screams echoing in his ears.

Another time, he ties them together in the tunnel with some fraying rope and they both drown.

Killing Marlene early gets him a bullet in the head and not killing her at all gets him back where he started, no change.

Joel even begs the doctor to run more tests first, to try blood, to try anything, but it takes too long and the alarm sounds and he's cornered in the operating room before he can grab Ellie and go.

Nothing fucking works.

But what is there left to change?

His mind starts to fray. He loses count of the loops and it becomes hard to detach himself from the slaughter. Not even the good moments -- Ellie's laughter, the awe in her face when she sees the giraffes, her jokes and her muted but still sharp sarcasm -- keep him afloat. He's lost, adrift in a sea of blood and bullets and it starts to eat away any humanity that was left in him.

The blood of hundreds, thousands maybe, is on his hands and he feels nothing.

Once and only once does he get there too late. Everything else goes like it always does but maybe he took too long on the first floor, maybe he took too long picking the guys one by one instead of using the assault rifle, maybe maybe maybe.

When Joel gets to the pediatric ward he knows something is different -- he can hear a buzzing sound, something loud and unnatural. The stale air is thick with something metallic, tinged with death. The buzzing stops and he finds his feet glued to the floor outside the operating room. Voices on the other side of it, murmuring and the clink of metal on a tray. Joel's hand shakes when he reaches for the knob because he knows whatever he finds on the other side is going to kill him.

But he opens it because he has to. The doctor is at the sink this time, the nurses nowhere to be found. Ellie's body is covered in a sheet, blood seeping through the fabric. Joel looks away. He just stands there, his heartbeat loud in his ears as the world ends.

The first time his daughter died, Joel thought he could will it not to be so. He held her as long as he could, whispered her name with her blood drying on his hands until Tommy begged him to get moving.

This time, he knows it's true and he knows there's only one ending.

He raises his gun at the doctor who is now leaning on the edge of the sink. The door swings open and the nurses return, eyes wide and vibrating with the energy of a job well done. He swings over to them and kills them both with quick headshots. The doctor has barely turned around when he's dead, too.

Joel breathes, ears ringing. He manages one step closer to the operating table but his knees buckle and he goes down hard on the cool tile. His vision is blurry. Is he crying?

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby." He angles himself so he won't get any blood on her and then presses the barrel of his gun to his temple and pulls the trigger.

If Joel was on the edge of losing his mind before, now he's laser focused. He doesn't pull any more shit. He settles back into the loop, savoring Ellie's laughter with the giraffe and gunning down every sorry motherfucker in his way at the hospital. He will not get there late ever again.

So when Marlene says something different the next time around and he almost misses it.

Ellie is dead weight in his arms but she's warm and he can see the rise and fall of her chest. The hospital was messier than usual because he rushed this time, cutting down the Fireflies like it was his last stand. There's blood in his hair and crusted under his fingernails and his shirt is beyond ruined.

"Are you going to tell her what happened here?" Marlene presses her hand into her side, blood leaking from around her crimson palm. "Are you going to tell her what you did?"

He lies to her.

Every time.

It's never occurred to him to try something else. Even though he's changed almost everything about this damn day except that.

Because Joel knows what happens if he tells the truth. He knows what that will cost him.

And he doesn't know if he'll survive it.

He's afraid. Joel doesn't want to lose her and if that makes him selfish then so be it. He wants to take her back to Jackson and give her a bedroom of her own and as many stupid comics as she wants and three meals a day for the rest of her long, peaceful life. He wants her to grow up and grow old.

He'd kill a thousand more Fireflies to make it happen.

He'd damn the whole world.

Because he loves her and it fucking hurts.

This girl and her puns and her comics and her god damned bravery and her bleeding heart. He doesn't want to lose her.

But is this, whatever this endless hell is, is it fair to her?

If it's breakable, if he has the ability to get them to tomorrow, to get them to Jackson, to get them home, shouldn't he? If he loves her shouldn't he give her a life even if he's not in it?

Joel gently arranges Ellie in the backseat and shoots Marlene in the head.

For a few seconds Ellie thinks she's in the car on the way into Pittsburgh. The hum of the old engine, the rocking motion of the truck. But -- wait. She's lying down. The car smells...musty. And she's cold like she's wearing a dress and --

"What the hell am I wearing?"

She flutters her eyes open. Different truck. Backseat. Is she in a...hospital gown? What the fuck? Where is she?

"Just take it easy," Joel says. Okay, so she's with Joel. Something in her chest settles. She must be safe. "Drugs are still wearin' off."

Drugs? Ellie pushes back into her memory and tries to find something, anything that'll give her a clue as to what's going on here. They were in the bus tunnel. The water was rushing, Joel jumped on the bus and it started moving and she...fell into the water?

It's a blur after that. More of a blank, really. Did they get to the hospital? Did they find the Fireflies? Based on her weird fucking outfit it sure seems like it.

"What happened?"

Joel's eyes flick up in the rearview mirror to look at her. "Let's get you into some clothes, first. Then we'll take a break and I'll tell you everythin'."

He sounds tired. More tired than he's ever sounded, frankly, but she can't imagine why. And he can't seem to stop looking at her like she's going to disappear. Like he hasn't seen her in ages.

"Okay," she says slowly. "Where the hell are we going to get those?"

"Your bag is on the floor by your feet." Joel veers off the highway down an exit ramp and Ellie sits up. Her head feels light for a second and then really heavy so she braces her hands on the seat in front of her and takes a few deep breaths. "You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah. Fucking...drugs, I guess. What'd they do that for?"

"They ran some tests. We'll talk about it."

Normally she'd push him but something feels off. Ellie tries to get a good look at his face but she can't, not from this angle, and not with her head fucking pounding like it is. She's missing so much time. It makes her skin crawl, makes her heart race. Joel is here, she tells herself. He wouldn't let anything bad happen to her.

He parks them at the edge of a cemetery and gets out of the car to stand guard while she changes out of the gown. Her last pair of jeans, apparently, and a grey t-shirt with a few holes in the collar. She wishes she had a sweatshirt or something to wrap around herself, to pull over her hands and feel covered. But beggars can't be choosers. At least someone put her shoes in her backpack.

Joel doesn't turn around when she opens the door but she sees him stiffen.

"I'm done." He looks back at her and she finally sees his face. "Jesus Christ, Joel, what happened to you?"

It's not just the blood. Sure, he's got dried streaks of it on his neck and in his hair. Ellie glances at his hands and sees it crusted under his fingernails, too. But he looks wrecked. Older, somehow. He looks like something terrible happened, the way she remembers his face when he fell from the balcony in Colorado, when he found her in the burning restaurant. But somehow it's worse.

He's looking at her like he can't believe she's real.

"Alright." Joel lowers the rifle and ignores her question, clearly. "Didn't see anythin'. Should be fine to sit here for a bit."

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck happened?"

He moves like he's going to drag a hand down his face but thinks better of it. "Yeah," he says. "I am."

Ellie swings her legs so they're hanging out the door. Joel leans the rifle against the truck and crosses his arms. "You're making me kind of nervous, man."

"Just...promise me you'll hear me out to the end."

Yeah, something is going on. She doesn't like it.

"Uh, sure."

"What do you remember?"

Good fucking question. "The tunnel. The bus and -- water. I fell in, right?"

Joel nods, clears his throat. "Jumpin' on the bus was dumb. Don't do that again."

She snorts. "Yeah, okay. Point taken. But I was afraid you were going to drown!"

"You did." He delivers the news in a flat tone she doesn't like. She drowned?

"Are you serious?"

"I got us out of the water and tried to get you breathin' again." Ellie realizes her chest is sore. She imagines Joel doing compressions like they showered her in school, imagines his panicked face, his hoarse voice calling her name. Fuck.

"Did it work?"

"No," he says. "Fireflies found us first and knocked me out."

"That doesn't make sense." She frowns. "They knocked you out?"

Joel shrugs. "Just tellin' you what happened."

This isn't how she imagined it would go. She never told Joel, but for weeks she's been thinking about waltzing up to the hospital and telling them who she is. She pictured Joel telling her jokes while she got her blood drawn, pictured him staring down nurses and doctors while they made the cure. She figured it would take a few days, maybe a week, and then they'd be on their way back to Jackson. She had hoped Marlene might be there, too. She has so many questions about her mom.

"What did they do with me?"

Joel looks troubled. "I...don't exactly know. It was a while before I saw you again."

It makes her skin crawl. He must be able to tell because he keeps talking. "I'm sure they just ran some tests while you were out. They brought you back, made sure you were breathin' okay."

"Tests?"

"I'm gettin' there." She feels like he's having a hard time looking at her. Something close to but not quiet dread sits heavy in her stomach. What happened?

"Joel..."

"I woke up inside the hospital. Marlene was there. Told me they didn't know it was us, that they'd been waiting." He pauses, drags a hand down his face. "You didn't wake up or nothin'? You sure?"

Ellie shakes her head. She doesn't remember anything after the tunnel.

"Well, she told me they could do it. They had a doctor who could make the cure."

The air rushes out of Ellie all at once. "Are you fucking serious?"

"And then she said..." Joel chews on his words and looks away from her. He looks angry.

"What did she say?"

"Makin' a vaccine...would've killed you."

The bottom drops out of Ellie's world. It's like a hundred doors in her brain open at once.

It would have killed her? Are they sure? Did they do enough tests? Were they going to? Why didn't they wake her up? Were they going to ask her? How did they get out?

She swallows them all and manages just one in a broken whisper. "What did you do?"

Joel looks right at her. "I stopped them."

If Ellie wasn’t already sitting down she thinks her legs would give out. She knows that Joel meant what he said to her in Silver Lake. Knows that he'd do anything for her.

But this?

"What do you mean?" He shakes his head. "Joel. What do you mean, you stopped them?"

His shoulders slump. "They told me to leave and I refused. And I made sure no one can follow us to try again."

Static builds in her ears. She can read between the lines. She speaks Joel now. He killed them all, that much is clear to her. He killed them all, Marlene, too, probably, because she was supposed to die to save the world. Hot tears sting her nose and gather at the corner of her eyes.

"But I -- but we -- I was supposed to...I'm the cure!"

"You're a person. You're a kid. Don't matter what's in your brain, you ain't dyin' for --"

Ellie pushes out of the truck and to her feet. Joel steps back to give her room but she knows he probably wants to touch her, to reassure her. The anger fills her, makes her face hot and her heart race.

"Who said you get to make that choice? If they said I had to die maybe I should have? Then it would mean something --"

"Your immunity ain't the thing that matters most. You are. So I picked you," Joel yells.

She's really crying now, huge heaving sobs that make it hard to talk, make it hard to convey how angry she is. "Well, you picked wrong, asshole."

"I ain't gonna apologize for it. I'd do it all over again, the exact same way. Every time." Joel's expression is as serious as it gets. He used to look this way all the time. No nonsense, no room for argument.

She tries to find the words anyway but they don't come.

"Now, you've got some options here," he says. "I think the best one is for us to go back to Jackson. I know Tommy'll take you in, and --

She laughs, or tries to.

It sounds like something bitter and awful to her own ears. First he tells her she was supposed to die today and now he wants to leave her?

"Are you fucking serious, Joel? You want to leave me again?"

Joel's brows pinch together. He looks pained. Good. It feels like her chest is caving in, like her lungs aren't working right anymore. This must be what it felt like to drown in the bus terminal, to sink slowly, to fade away entirely. She read once that drowning was supposed to be peaceful. This hurts.

"I want you to be safe," he says. "Jackson is the best place for that. I don't have to be there if you don't want me there --"

"I didn't fucking say that!" she yells. "I -- Jesus, give me a fucking second, okay?"

He stands by the door as she paces back and forth, tugging her hands through her hair.

She was supposed to die. But she didn't. There's no cure. And it sure fucking sounds like Joel didn't leave any option to try again.

He traded saving the world for her.

It's too much.

"What do you want, Ellie?" Joel sounds like he's been awake for days. Like he's in pain, like he's being hollowed out. He sounds like how she feels.

She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"I want none of this to have happened! I want us to go back to this morning and I want us to not have gone into the bus tunnel and I want you to have asked for tests first, I want them to try something else. I want Marlene to tell me why they didn't wake me up. I want to do it again but differently, I want things to be different, I --"

Her words break off into a sob. "Ellie..." She opens her eyes and finds him reaching for her. His shirt is stained with dried blood but she steps into his hold and his arm wraps around her.

"I don't know what to do, now," she whispers.

Joel exhales a shaky breath. "I know you wish things were different. I wish things were different. But they ain't."

They stand there, his hand dragging up and down her back. She listens to his heartbeat and remembers those nights in the basement when she thought it would stop any minute.

"Fuck," she whispers, then pulls away. He lets her go. "Fuck, Joel."

He sighs. "Yeah, kiddo. Fuck."

He told her the truth and that means something. It hurts, it hurts so bad, and it doesn't absolve him of anything, but that matters.

"I'm so angry with you," she says. "I don't know how to forgive you for...for...saving me."

It sounds stupid as she says it but Joel nods solemnly.

"That's alright."

"But I..." She wants to get this part right. "Let's go back. To Jackson. We'll figure it out there. But you...you have to swear to tell me the truth. Just like this. We have to be honest with each other."

Joel meets her gaze without blinking. "I swear."

Ellie takes a deep breath. The anger, the horror, the disbelief at what he's done settle a little bit. She has no clue what comes next, but this is a start.

"Okay."

Joel wakes up.

His back hurts and his shoulder aches. It's dark, darker than it should be, darker than it's been for hundreds of days.

Ellie is asleep in the backseat of the truck.

It's tomorrow.

thank you for reading. let me know what you thought!

#the last of us fanfiction #i dont know how to tag this #the last of us #bea this is your fault!

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