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tayraedoll · 3 months ago

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Old Man

Part 2 Part 3

You keep teasing Alastor due to his age, he is about to show you how his age just makes him more experienced.

TW: Swearing, drinking, vomit, blackouts, suggestive themes, old-fashioned chivalry, drunk kissing

No smut, but is very suggestive at the end.

You slam the door to the hotel angrily behind you, causing the door to shutter in a way that would have worried you about breaking it if you had it in you to give a fuck.

"Fucking prick...who the hell does he think he is?!", you mutter under your breath

You run your hand through your chestnut hair. Your demon form was that of a fallow deer, your hair turned a reddish brown color with ears to match on your head. You had little white spots adorning your cheeks, shoulders, and back. The last of your demonic changes would be your luscious deer tail- the same color as your hair with the spots peppered over it- so full that you needed to get all your clothes altered for it.

You make your way over to the bar- where you a hoping the man who instigated your wrath sits- stomping your feed unnecessarily hard on the wood flooring. Just as you were hoping for, the man you most wanted to pick-a-bone with sat in his usual spot.

"Angel!"

"Toots? Back from y'er date already huh?"

"You are sooooo not allowed to set me up on anymore dates! That guy was an absolute menace!", you slump into the seat next to his with an exaggerated sigh. Husk promptly placed your favorite drink in front of you. You smiled and lifted your glass to him in thanks.

"Jeez, 'm sorry toots. I gotta ask- what'd Mikey do that pissed ya off so bad?"

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying not to picture your atrocious dinner date. "He ordered my dinner for me.", you spat as if it was the most egregious wrong ever done to you.

Angel and Husk stared at you with unreadable expressions, glancing at each other before quickly diverting their eyes back to you.

Maniacal laughter suddenly rang out from the other side of the bar- Alastor. You had not even noticed him when you first came in- if he had been there at all. You had a decent relationship with The Radio Demon, you mostly interacted at dinner but had the occasional chat in the library. He seemed to get along better with you than he did most of the other residents-save for Nifty and Charlie- you assumed that was due to being a deer like he was. Herd mentality and all you supposed. Now though, his laughter was grating on your already taut nerves. "Something funny you coot?" Angel's and Husk's eyes widened at your jab- no one had the balls to insult Alastor right to his face like that.

"Yes, very much so Darling. Did it ever cross your mind that perhaps he was just being polite? Ordering a ladies meal used to be the chivalrous thing to do.", he smiled wider at you as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"OK boomer, was it also 'chivalrous'(you used air quotes with your finger) to order her a salad instead of the wings and fries she wanted? The next man who has the audacity to order my food for me will become my meal instead!" You huffed and downed the rest of your drink, glaring over at your fellow deer.

He chuckled smoothly but relented his argument "No, I suppose you are right- that was not the proper way to go about it." You gave him a cocky smile before he continued "However, I must say that you...younger generation of ladies... give up so quickly. Running at the very first small inconvenience." He folded his hands and rested his chin on them, eyeing you mischievously.

"Well, SOOOORRRYY for having standards. Us younger generation ladies are not impressed by minimal effort and do not abide by the misogynist tendencies you old geezers put out", you laced your voice with as much venom as you could. "Mikey can take his Terry Crews in White Chicks vibes and fuck right off!"

Alastor eyed you thoughtfully,"Would you care to join me for a night out on the town my dear? Perhaps having a bit of fun will lighten your mood."

Now it was your turn to laugh,"Sorry gramps, but I fail to see how chaperoning you for your daily nightcap will lift my spirits."

"Hmmm, I suppose I will just need to show you how The Lost Generation cuts loose. Get dressed in something you can move in Darling." He was challenging you, you could see it in that smug grin on his face. Who were you to not indulge the old man?

"Give me 15 minutes.", you smirked at him and raced upstairs to your room. You have been saving a lacy, black party dress for a special occasion, now seemed like the perfect time to break it out of your closet. You would pair it with a pair of blood red pumps for a pop of color, wearing lipstick of the same shade to bring it all together.

You swagger down the stairs to meet up with Alastor at the front door. His smile widens ever so slightly as his eyes apprise you. "You look lovely Sha.", he says sweetly as he takes your hand in his, kissing your knuckles tenderly. "Shall we?" He tucks your arm through his and guides you out the door.

You walk in silence for a time, Alastor humming softly to himself. You finally speak up "So, what old saloon are you taking me to?", you smile coyly up at him hoping to ruffle his feathers a bit.

"We are headed to my favorite jazz club Little Fawn", he snickers at your scowl. You hated when he called you that, it was because of your spots. But you were just a different breed of dear- you weren't a fawn! The nickname made you feel like a child. You spent the rest of the walk in silence again- Alastor resumed his humming while you pouted.

The outside of the club was inconspicuous, an old building made of brick and wood with no windows. Just a large, metal door at the center. Upon your arrival a small eyelet slid over to inspect you two, The eyes on the other side widened upon seeing Alastor and hastily opened the door. Once inside, you walked down a short hallway and through another metal door.

The inside of the club was a vast contrast to what the outside was like. It was lively, bodies dancing every which direction and a live band played passionately on stage on the far side. The room was decorated in vibrant reds and golds. A long, wooden bar sat to your left. You could smell the tang of bourbon and puffs of smoke, getting a hint of sweat from all the bodies swinging around on the dance floor.

"Shall I order you a drink? Or would you prefer to do that yourself? I wouldn't want to insult you.", Alastor chortled as he walked you over to the bar. You rolled your eyes at him "What are you drinking?" He raised a brow at you. "I am drinking rye whiskey. I am not sure if that will be to your tastes Fawn."

"Hey, I'm sure I can handle anything you dish out Flapdoodle. I bet I can go drink for drink with you even.", you challenged. Maybe you could wipe that ever-present smirk off his smug face if you could get the old man to pass out. You could handle a couple of whiskey drinks.

Alastor hummed as he regarded you, "Very well, if you insist!", he turned to the bartender "Double rye on the rocks please!" You blanched, double? You were not expecting to be drinking doubles, but if Alastor could handle them then you had a good chance right? You took a sip of your drink, it tasted of spice and dark chocolate and had a pleasant burn on its way down your throat. You were sure if you sipped it you would be fine.

However, Alastor had other plans as he swallowed the entire contents of his drink in one go. Your mouth fell open in shock as you stared at him. Fuck, this isn't going the way you planned. Timidly, you brought your own drink to your lips and swallowed the rest of it, shuddering at the burn. Alastor watched you all the while, and promptly ordered two more drinks. This drink was sipped, but was still drank much faster than you planned.

After a while you started to feel the effects of the alcohol, your body relaxing. You started to sway to the music, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Would you do me the honor of joining me on the dance floor my dear?", Alastor asked as he took your hand, leading you out to the middle of the dancing crowd.

He placed your left hand on his shoulder, keeping your other hand held in his. His free hand held you closely by the waist and he began to swing you around to the beat. You stumbled along, if he weren't holding you so securely you would have ended up on the floor and the alcohol was not doing you any favors. "Oh dear, you a very bad at this!", he teased you. You glared back up at him "Well maybe if you would slow down instead of throwing me around like a lunatic I would be better!", you snapped. He chuckled, but slowed down enough that you could keep up and learn the dance. But once you seemed to get your bearings he sped up again.

This continued all night- the song would change and he would slow down so you could learn the new dance but speed up once you got it. All the while, the only thing you had to drink was whiskey. It did not take long for you to be truly drunk, your vision starting to spin and your movements becoming clumsy. Your legs were killing you, you had definitely worn the wrong shoes for this activity.

"Please excuse me for a second.", you smiled up at Alastor and walked off the dance floor. You exited out a back door you saw people use to take smoke breaks to get some fresh air. You leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes to help concentrate on breathing evenly. You heard the door open beside you but chose to ignore it until you felt a hand on your cheek. You opened your eyes to see Alastor standing over you, his eyes carefully scanning your face. "You truly are as beautiful as a magnolia in May.", he stated before slowly lowering his face to yours.

You gasped into the kiss, losing all train of thought. Weren't you supposed to be rivals? The new vs. the old? In this moment, you no longer cared. He continued holding your face as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket as the kiss continued, it was making you dizzy.

Oh no, you are not just dizzy from the kiss- the alcohol is making it worse. Your stomach started to twist uncomfortably and you had to roughly push Alastor away from you before you turned to the wall and puked your guts up all over yourself. When you were done you stumbled back, vision quickly fading. The last thing you remember before succumbing to complete darkness is a pair of strong arms catching you and the warmth of a chest cradling you.

You reached consciousness slowly, your senses coming to you one-by-one. Unfortunately, the first thing you registered was extreme thirst followed quickly by a pounding headache. You let out a loud groan, turning over in your bed "Fuck" you grumbled out.

A soft chuckle followed by an all-too-chipper "Good morning!" caught your attention. You glared at Alastor over in a chair before mumbling "I am not in the mood for your bullshit this morning.", burying your face in the pillow.

It took you an embarrassing few seconds to register that he was actually in the room with you and was not just a figment of your imagination sent to torture you. You shot up in the bed, making your head spin again. "What are you doing in my...", you trailed off as you took in your surroundings. You were not in your room. The bed you were in was large, with maroon-colored silk sheets. The room had crimson-colored walls with a grand fireplace, in front of which Alastor sat reading the paper. Behind him, the room gave way to a magnificent forest and swamp that made your breath hitch. You were obviously in Alastor's room.

"Al...what am I doing in your room?", you asked as you slowly looked back over at him, heart ready to beat out of your chest in fear of his answer.

"I did not feel comfortable leaving you alone in your room. You were incredibly drunk, I did not want you to asphyxiate if you were to become ill again. So I brought you here where I could keep an eye on you.", he explained calmly, watching your reaction. Your face burned with shame. You had set out to get The Radio Demon to make a fool of himself, but you had become the fool yourself. You turned away, not wanting to see the amusement that surely danced plainly on his face. When you glanced down you frowned.

"How am I wearing my pajamas?", you asked- the accusation plain to hear in your voice. When you glanced back up, Alastor had walked over to stand at the foot of the bed. "Well, I was not about to let your spew into my bed. So I sent my shadows to your room to retrieve your sleepwear.", he explained matter-of-factly.

"Did they change me too or...?"

"No, I did that.", before you could get upset at that revelation he snapped his fingers and you were suddenly wearing socks. You breathed a sigh of relief, you did not think Alastor would violate your privacy like that but it was nice to have the verification. As you sat there thinking, memories of the night before slowly trickled back into your mind. Alastor had kissed you! But why?

Before you could ask any of the million questions running through your mind he sat at the end of the bed. "Sha, I would like to have a rather important discussion with you if you feel up to it." You nodded and waited for him to continue. "Would you be open to me courting you?"

You stared at him dumbstruck "Huh?" was all you could muster out. Was this really happening? Did Alastor just ask to date you?

"I have been admiring you from afar for some time now. I must admit I am rather taken by you. I enjoy our back-and-forth banter and admire your wit. You are such a strong-minded woman, and are not afraid to speak exactly what you are thinking. I would like the opportunity to explore our relationship a bit further if you assent."

Your jaw hit the floor, you had no idea how to respond. Alastor admired you? He wanted to have a more formal relationship? None of this was making sense to you at the moment but your heart was soaring. You had been hiding your attraction to the demon behind your crude jokes about his age. You'd be lying if you said you would not want to get to know him better as well.

"It is rude to stare Dear.", Alastor grinned at you. You had not stopped gaping at him while you processed your thoughts. "Y-Yes, I would be open to that." You shyly smiled back at him.

"One more thing, how much about your biology do you know?", he asked as he shifted closer to you, closing the distance between you two. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in just a few months the cervid mating season will be upon us.", he explained slowly. You crinkled your brows in confusion. "You arrived in hell very shortly after the last mating season. I was not sure how much about your deer form you had learned. If you find our courting satisfactory...I would very much like to claim you this season." He stared at you intently, searching your eyes for your reaction. He was leaning so far into your space that only a few inches separated you. His want was practically palpable.

Your mind went blank again, at a complete loss for words for the moment. This man was just full of surprises. You felt a myriad of emotions- excitement, fear, anticipation, nervousness. But you wanted it, so badly that it shocked you. But, you did not want him to get any more satisfaction at your expense today. So you smirked, "Only if you can keep up you old geezer."

With that you went to get up and dramatically walk out of the room to leave him with his thoughts. But instead you felt your calf muscles strain and knees buckle underneath you. Your legs were so cramped up, damn shoes! Alastor laughed heartily at you as you flushed tomato red. "You are not quite as limber as you ought to be for your age My Doe. Your endurance could use a bit of work.", he tutted at you helping you to your feet. You stretched your sore legs out a bit until you could at least shuffle around.

Before you could turn away Alastor grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him. "A final tidbit of information- did you know that deer can mate consecutively for 72 hours?", he watched as your eyes widened to saucers, leaning in until his lips just barely caressed the fluff of your ears. "If I were you Ma Petite Biche (My Little Doe), I'd begin stretching."

#hazbin alastor #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #suggestive #alastor the radio demon #drunk caretaking #rivals to lovers

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gothamhappiness · 3 months ago

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Being in a relationship with Bruce Wayne: a journey - Meeting him (part I)

It's a big series about an afab!reader who doesn't like Bruce Wayne and who still falls in love with him (he fells quicker and harder)

You can find the reader's origin story here.

Warnings: no proof reading, eat the rich baby kind of vibes, reader is uncomfortable at first, not impressed!reader, language, deep down Bruce is the kind of guy who likes to be bullied by a pretty girl

When your boss picked you to go to Bruce Wayne’s charity gala, your first thought had been: “Oh I’m going to be such a little nuisance!”.

It was only when you started to wonder how to dress, that you realised that the event was actually being a nuisance for you. You took so much time trying to decide what to put on, what kind of makeup and hairstyle to do. You knew appearances were important, and you didn’t want to be at your disadvantage in such a place.

And yet, even if you had put on your best dress, your best shoes and your favourite jewels that your grandma gave you right before her death, you felt… cheap.

You were clearly out of place and you knew that people were looking at you from the corner of their eyes. You were getting uncomfortable. But you went to Falcone’s events when you were a child and you knew one thing: when you are among vultures, you can show no weakness. So you tried to keep you back straight and to look like you were doing great. There was no way you would give the joy to all those rich assholes to make you run away. It was only fueling your hate against them.

You had thought you were going to eat and drink well at this gala, but all this money disgusted you too much to actually enjoy yourself. You saw too many people dying from hunger in the streets to be able to bear any of this.

You were looking around, taking mental notes of everything before you felt a presence behind you. You turned around and were greeted by a tall and broad man, wearing the nicest suit you ever witnessed. He gently smiled at you but you saw it didn’t fully reach his eyes. It was just a polite act. You instantly recognised the dark hair and the blue eyes. You hadn’t thought Bruce Wayne was that big though.

It didn’t mean you were impressed.

Not one bit.

The man seemed to observe you with interest - probably because you weren’t all over him at the instant you saw him - before extending his hand for you to shake.

“Good evening, you must be Mrs L/N.” he kept smiling

“Indeed, Mr. Wayne. I guess it wasn’t very difficult to spot me in this crowd” you said as you shook his hand politely.

“What do you mean?” he asked

“Oh don’t pretend, I know I’m not dressed as nicely as your usual guests.” you replied.

You perceive a little glitter of curiosity sparkling in his eyes. Bruce Wayne was probably not used to being talked to like that, especially from women. But you weren’t afraid or impressed by anyone. How could you when your past was full of dangerous people? Bruce Wayne seemed to think of a proper reply before deciding to be honest and he nodded his head.

“I’m grateful your newspaper agreed to send someone. I know you do not have a very good opinion of me, which I absolutely respect. I’ve read the paper you wrote about me last week, about the fact that my company took part in the destruction of the Amazonian forest and in child labour in poor countries. It was truly an impressive work of research and I’m thankful you saw it, wrote about it and published it. I had been too busy with different projects to realise any of this was happening. I would have appreciated it if you had let me know first hand though.” he told you to which you raised an eyebrow

“And? Did anything change?” you replied

“Indeed. I want to let you know that all of this stopped and that I’m doing everything I can do to repair the bad my company caused. It won’t happen again. I promise.” He said and you could tell he was sincere or at least trying to sound like he was.

“Good. At least you take responsibility. And if anything else happens again, I’ll be there to make sure you do know about it.” you hummed which cause the ghost of an amused smile to appear on Bruce’s face

“I don’t worry about it indeed.” he paused. “By the way, you write very well. I’m glad to be able to put a face on such… sharp and true words” he added, and you let him show how surprised you were

“People don’t usually like my sharp words” you shrugged but you were yourself getting quite curious about the man now.

“It did hurt quite a bit but… I wish that my spokesperson would write that well. Or that I would myself have such a way with words. At least it helped me to see the truth and… Well it was quite refreshing. People don’t usually talk about me that way, or just about my last nightstand.” he explained

“Oh yes, don’t worry, I really don’t care with whom you slept last night as long as you didn’t abuse or rape them” you smiled and Bruce Wayne’s eyes widened before he let out a very amused laughter.

“I didn’t think your words were also that sharp in person” he commented “Do you want us to go somewhere else a little less noisy so you could do the interview you had prepared?” he offered to which you agreed.

On one hand, you were surprised with how the evening went by.

Your first disgust for the man started to change into real curiosity. You were still unimpressed by him, but you could tell there was something more than just the rich philanthropist playboy act. Bruce Wayne had secrets. But unlike usual people, you didn’t seem to be able to find a way for him to spill them for you. Something was unsettling about him. You wanted to discover so badly what was going on; you were a curious cat.

On the other hand, Bruce Wayne quickly understood that not only were you good with words, you were also good at asking the right questions. More than once, he was about to let go of his “Brucie” persona because of how smart your interrogations about him or his enterprises were. At some point, you were even met by silence because the man had no idea how to answer your question about all the “toys” that Wayne Enterprises was producing and yet never let the army, the police or the government use. Actually, you were wondering who was buying those equipments and why it was so difficult to find who it was. Bruce asked you how you knew about this and you let him know you dug into his financial reports.

His silence was a challenge for you.

As the discussion kept going on, you realised you now wanted to know everything about the man, his real personality and all his secrets. The persona he was using in public was pure bullshit. You might have rolled your eyes at him once or twice.

Bruce tried his best to not react, but deep down he had no idea what to do. He had thought it was going to be an easy interview and that once he would have you sit down with him alone, he would have been able to manipulate you, so you could finally write something nice about him. He realised he had never been more wrong in his whole life. He also realised that the more he was feeding you his usual answers to journalists, the more you were pressing the subjects. He just couldn’t make you believe him and his sweet little lies. He couldn’t charm you either. Bruce could also tell that his attitude got the exact opposite reaction he wanted from you. He wanted you to relax around him, but as time passed, the more you were eyeing him as if you were certain that he was a lot darker and a lot more dangerous than he wanted everyone to believe.

Bruce hated to admit it but he found you incredibly attractive.

Of course you were beautiful, but you were also so smart and observant. You were ruthless to him, in a polite manner which was even worse. You were merciless; you were asking the questions you had to ask, without care for his ego. He didn’t know if he should ask you out on a date or ask you to work for him. At some point, he managed to finally say something that made you laugh (it was a self derogatory comment) and he decided on the first option.

A part of his mind knew he was playing with fire with you. Still, he asked you out.

You thought about refusing at first, but then agreed. You needed to know what the great Bruce Wayne was hiding. For you, it wasn’t a “real” date, it was just part of your work.

At the end of the interview, you were more than happy to come back home, your head full of new theories about the man.

Alfred joined Bruce, surprised his master was still sitting down fifteen minutes after your departure.

“How did it go, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked

“Awfully” Bruce replied “Asked her out though, and she said yes” he added

“I’m not too certain if that’s a good thing or not, Master Bruce” Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow

“I don’t know either” Bruce hummed

Bruce Wayne fell asleep that night, wondering what the fuck happened tonight and wondering why he was so excited to see you again.

PART 2

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

@wind-canoe

@silverklaus

Taglist for Bruce Wayne <3

@alishii

Taglist for this series <3

@esposadomd

#batfam x reader #batfamily #batman #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batman x f!reader #batman x reader #batman x s/o #batman x y/n #batman x you #bruce wayne x s/o #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n

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pernesophe · 3 months ago

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Wind Breaker Boys x Touch Starved Reader

(Minors, Ageless and Blank Blogs DNI)

Synopsis: How the Wind Breaker boys would handle a touch averse / touch starved S/O.

(The reader's for this post just aren't touchy feely, don't have that experience, or are just awkward about it so there's more characterization of the reader's for this one I guess? Anyway, still had fun writing it - also Tsugeura has an artsy gf so a lot of his is about that!)

Characters in this post (characters are aged 18+ for any smut portions, and it is specifically implied in the story as well) MDNI:

Tsuguera Taiga (TW: pure comfort, fluff, one line could be taken as suggestive at the end)

Sugishita Kyotaro (TW: pure comfort, fluff, implied size difference cause Sugishita is so tall)

Kiryu Mitsuki (TW: comfort, fluff, one scene where reader is being bothered by a male classmate, suggestive, and smut (cunnilingus) at the end)

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post)

Tsugeura Taiga

(2819 WC)

The day you met Tsuguera Taiga was at his favorite restaurant. With an artsy aesthetic you always stuck out at a wrestling themed restaurant, but it’s one of your favorites because they make caloric rich meals that really work for you. As soon as he saw you sitting by yourself, Tsugeura approached you in a boisterous manner and asked if you would like to eat together. He seemed so friendly, so of course you agreed.

After sitting down and ordering, he asks you about yourself. With a bright smile you tell him that you attend an arts based high school in the area and that you’ve only lived here for a few years now. Tsugeura is immediately intrigued by you, your aesthetic, and that you were just different from who he usually hung out with and spoke to.

After the food comes, you ask Tsugeura a little about himself and over lunch he tells you about attending Furin and protecting the town. And then he tells you all about his “virtue” which you think is odd, but really endearing. When he asks about your virtue, you’re a little surprised and don’t have an answer right away. He tells you that’s okay through a big grin with bright eyes to match, and then he says that you can tell him next time he sees you. Heat rose to your face with the implication that the two of you would see each other again, and you bashfully agreed. Tsugeura really didn’t even consider the fact that it could be seen as a date - he’s just a himbo and really interested in getting to know you.

The next time you see Tsuguera is about a week later at the same restaurant. The second you walk in he excitedly waves to you and gestures to the seat across from him, and you quickly join him with a wide grin plastered on your face. As soon as you sit down, you rush to tell him what your virtue is:

To see as much art as you can - good, bad, life changing art - so then you can make art that resonates with a lot of people. Hopefully some of your pieces can spur some real life changes around the world.

Tsugeura can’t help the overjoyed grin that pulls on the corners of his mouth at how excited you were to tell him your virtue. Thoroughly impressed and a little touched that you thought about it so much and gave him an honest answer. After a long moment of him gazing at you with a soft expression, you tilt your head curiously so he clears his throat before telling you it’s a really good virtue to have. Which leads to him asking more about you, the art you enjoy and he even asks to see some of it if you have pictures. Pulling out your phone, you forewarn him that your ‘vibe’ doesn’t necessarily match your art, and he just nods with a big grin.

Apprehensively you show him the first piece: a page full of sketches in the same style, black and white, varying from mushrooms, to bottles, to fish, to skulls, to moths and finally butterflies - all of which were laden with too many eyes. Tsugeura was a little taken aback, but then he leaned closer to the screen and zoomed in on certain pieces. As he did, you explained that it’s just a draft to practice drawing all of those things in the same style. Then you sheepishly add that you put eyes in a lot of your artwork.

“Why?” Tsugeura asks, not a trace of judgment in his voice - only curiosity - as he continues pouring over your work.

“I don’t know, I guess everyone says ‘eyes are the window to the soul’ but I think there’s only certain circumstances where that’s true. Like you have to be facing someone directly to see into their soul, but you can feel someone's eyes outside of that,” Tsugeura peers up at you - expression still completely curious, but questioning.

“Like, I feel like not everyone was taught not to stare growing up, if that makes sense? So, like, sometimes you can feel people staring at you even if you can’t see it…” he nods slowly as he straightens - listening intently. “I guess some of my earlier artwork plays around with giving the viewer that feeling from everyday objects - kind of in a way to put them in my shoes…” you trail off quietly - fearing that you’ve said too much.

“I’ve moved away from that being the point of my work, but I still do incorporate a lot of eyes. Now more so because I think sometimes it’s also a thing that can represent humanity in some ways - so now I try to incorporate them in a way to give humanity back to people and beings that we should treat better in our society.” Explaining yourself softly as you peer around the restaurant before meeting his gaze again, and Tsugeura’s eyes light up at your words.

“Do you have any pieces like that?” Asking with an undertone of hopefulness - unable to hide the way his fingers fidget with excitement.

“Yes actually,” you say softly as you swipe to one of the pieces you made earlier this year in your photos.

It’s a surrealist painting with a giant road lined with buildings leading into the ocean, and on the horizon a giant wave was coming to wash everything away. A crowd of “normal” people were running away while grabbing animals, plants, Knick knacks, etc - all with big, pleading eyes plain as day. Several figures were walking against the crowd - some you could see from the side profiles had no eyes, others had no ears, and some had no mouths - all of them on their way to enter the ocean. No one acknowledged them, no one reached out to spin them in the other direction. On top of everything, the ones walking towards the ocean were slightly transparent - as if they were invisible, or ghosts already. Tsugeura pours over it wide eyed for several minutes before looking up to you for an explanation.

“It’s called Blind,” you say quietly but don’t explain beyond that. He looks back at your phone and then to you and then your phone again as you wait patiently for his opinion.

“Because no one will look at them… or help them?” Asking quietly without looking up at you, and you feel your eyebrows shoot up instantly at his question. Tsugeura was absolutely correct.

“Mhm,” humming quickly with a nod as he meets your gaze again. “It’s kind of my commentary on how people with disabilities are treated by society.” Informing with a nod of your head, Tsugeura nods as well with an astonished expression on his face.

“I think you’re already making art that’s gonna change the world,” musing softly as a prideful grin spreads across his face. Immediately the tips of your ears burn and you bashfully avert your gaze. “This is really, really good Y/N,” adding as he hands your phone back to you, and you take it while shooting him a grateful smile.

After the two of you finish eating, Tsugeura walks you home and continues asking about you and your art. You ended up pulling up your portfolio on your phone and let him scroll through it - he was speechless (in a good way). At the end of the walk he was obviously disappointed to have to stop talking to you, so you offered him your number and he happily exchanged contact info.

Over the next few weeks, outside of the now weekly lunches you two have together, he stays in daily communication with you - asking about your day, art, and if you’ve eaten or drink water today. Not once has he made you feel bad for skipping a meal, but he does send a message like, “Food fuels the brain! You can be an amazing artist even if you’re not starving!”

This always makes you laugh and actually pause to eat the snacks you brought while you ask him about his day.

After about 3 months of getting to know Tsugeura, he asks if your work is ever featured in any art shows. Surprised by his question, you stammer out that there’s actually one this weekend and he of course asks if he can come. Not a ton of the people in your life get your art, so it’s typically you asking them to come - not the other way around. Of course, you eagerly agree and get a ticket to him by the end of the day.

For the show, Tsugeura got uncharacteristically nervous about attending as himself. The day before the show he asks Kiryu about what he should wear, and his pink haired friend tore through his wardrobe until he picked out a plain, long sleeve white shirt that was tucked into a pair of simple jeans with a black belt. Over it Tsugeura wore a coffee brown plaid shirt that was rolled up to the elbow along with the undershirt. To complete the look he wore a pair of long coffee colored socks that peaked out of the black lace up boots that Kiryu dug out of the back of his friend’s closet. His bubblegum haired friend said it was best to come as he is, but this outfit would be appropriate for the event.

Tsugeura felt way more confident by the time your art show rolled around. He, of course beelined to you, but after you showed him and told him about your pieces he seemed to pick up on the fact that you would be doing that all night. So, he made sure to ask you if it was okay to leave you and look at other pieces, before perusing the rest of the show and asking questions about different pieces.

You were pleasantly surprised to see Tsugeura truly engaged with the other artists and asking thoughtful questions about their art. Since he wasn’t an “artsy person” the questions he asked were a completely different point of view than most of the other attendees. By the end of the event, it was apparent that he was really well received and appreciated by the other creators which only made your heart soar even higher.

Once the event wound down, Tsugeura returned to your side and helped you pack up your pieces before walking you home. After the first few minutes of the walk pass in awkward silence - you peering up at him only to see him looking straight ahead with a nervous expression - he finally breaks the silence. In his signature loud way, he tells you that he thinks you’re really cool, creative and so, so smart. Going on to say that he would like to be more than friends, but that if that’s not what you would want then he would really like to just be your friend.

It was honestly comical, because he was so on edge it kind of looked like he was just yelling his feelings at you - and to be fair, he was - but his nervous yet hopeful expression accompanied with those big puppy dog eyes made him so unthreatening.

Instantly all your walls crumbled, and all of those ooey-gooey warm feelings that have been brewing for Tsugeura finally gushed out of you. With a blindingly bright smile you confess that you’ve felt the same way this whole time, and that you just didn’t realize he felt the that way. For a while you kind of just thought Tsugeura was just being kind to you, but he was quick to tell you that he’s so kind to you because he likes you so much. Timidly, he asks if you would be his girlfriend, and you happily agree.

Due to his virtue, Tsugeura didn’t want to scare you and let you take the lead on physical affection - this led to the two of you not really touching for the first 3 months of dating. Some guys in his class asked if you two have kissed, and Tsugeura just shrugs and says no. When they ask why, he says he’s letting you take the lead, and they just stare at him dumbfounded before asking if he’s ever gonna make a move - so he explains his thinking behind it.

Then one of his peers asks if Tsugeura lets you know that he’s attracted to you or likes you outside of physical affection. Tsugeura explained that he doesn’t really, but you seem really secure in your looks and whenever you two talk you just end up in a deep discussion about each other’s special interests. They say “okay” and some forms of “good luck” which kind of make Tsugeura self conscious though he doesn’t show it outwardly to them.

Later that day though, he timidly asks you if he’s been making you feel undesirable by not touching you or complimenting you. Surprised at first by his timidness, but then you giggle and explain your feelings around compliments - you don’t care too much for compliments on your physique, but you do enjoy compliments on your style choices and art. You assure him that you feel like he compliments you all the time - especially when he’s always telling you that he really likes the outfit you put together, or when he asks for your help to put a new outfit together for him. It always makes you feel good that he trusts your style and creative choices enough to ask you for help. In addition to that, you're always bouncing art idea off of him and he always tells you how intelligent you are for the idea.

After that, you go on to tell him - a little more nervously - about your relationship with physical affection. He listens intently as you explain that you don’t come from a very touchy feely home, and that no one in your family is very comfortable with it so you kind of just learned to be the same way.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t quite understand the physical affection piece at first and immediately bear hugs you with a giant grin on his face while saying, “Well you just need a hug!” He accidentally ends up tackling you to the floor so he’s on top of you.

When he hears you sniffle quietly underneath him, Tsugeura immediately thinks he hurt you and tries to get up, but you're clutching his shirt so tightly that he can’t.

”Y/N? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry!” He cries out, but you shake your head as you cry into his shoulder and pull him closer to you. Tsugeura freezes in place so you're not bearing any of his weight, but he's not pulling away either

”No I-I’m not hurt…” sniffling softly as you try to find the words to explain. “I’ve just never had anyone hug me like this, or been so ha-happy to hug me…” voice cracking as a sob escapes you. Tsugeura finally seems to understand that this was a lot harder for you than he first realized as he silently relaxes his body on top of you - reapplying the pressure from before.

“Thank you,” you whisper softly. “Ca-can we stay like this for a little bit longer? The pressure is really nice…” Warbling out softly, and he immediately wraps his arms tightly around you.

Tsuguera is silent as he holds you and lets you cry into his chest. After this, his approach to small forms of physical affection - hand holding, placing a reassuring palm on your back or shoulder blade, tucking your hair behind your ear - is much more eager. Especially since you mentioned that no one had ever been so happy to hug you before - Tsugeura never wanted you to feel that he wasn’t more than happy to touch you. In private, he’ll give you forehead kisses, tuck you into his side on the couch, and occasionally play with your hair or pet your head. He insists on giving you pressure hugs often - also in private in case you start crying - because after that first time you had been so relaxed afterwards. As if he had somehow squeezed all the tension from your body.

Through the rest of school, graduation, art school, and even at your first big show - Tsugeura always showed up. At that first show and every single one following, Tsugeura would arrive with you; help you set up; look at art and mingle through the event before returning to your side at the end to help you pack up. When the two of you arrive home - per tradition - Tsugeura peels the formal dress off of you and removes your heels before pulling you into a crushing hug. Once the stress of the day is squeezed from your muscles, then you take a long, hot shower together before cuddling each other to sleep in your giant shared bed.

Sugishita Kyotaro

(2296 WC)

You met Sugishita in middle school, after he was already devoted to Umemiya - he got involved when a group of your classmates were bullying you relentlessly. It took several interventions from him before they finally stopped, but after they did he still kept a quiet eye on you.

Often he would be waiting on the corner of the street that your house is on - at first you didn’t realize he was waiting for you until you smiled and waved at him as you walked by and he fell in step with you immediately. Honestly, you thought it was a coincidence, but every day after that started the same way - Sugishita silently waiting at the corner for you. Not once did you question him about it, wordlessly accepting the “scary dog privileges” that Sugishita afforded you.

A severe look was always on his face, and he didn’t speak much, but since you met him through him standing up for you - it was easy to be comfortable and smiley towards him. Though, he wasn’t 100% used to that right off the bat (other than maybe from Umemiya) and became enamored by you quite swiftly. The two of you started “hanging out” after knowing each other for a few weeks - you two would see each other at the park or something and sit together quietly enjoying whatever separate activities you brought.

It took him a while to open up to you, and he still hasn’t divulged everything about himself, but you quickly learned that Umemiya and Furin were incredibly important to him. One thing he made sure to mention was that he’s just really invested in following in Umemiya’s footsteps by protecting the town. You thought he was really admirable for it, and made sure to tell him so with a bright smile that exuded reverence - which instantly made him fall for you. As for you, you’ve had feelings since Sugishita saved you, but they’ve grown unruly over time. Especially during those quiet moments where you can just enjoy his company, but you’re not expected to speak.

Every single day, you have to say so many words that you find it to be exhausting sometimes, so you especially loved that Sugishita’s friendship uses a lot of nonverbal communication (head nods, points, a specific look, etc.). It made you feel like he really got you, and at times it kind of felt like the two of you had your own secret language.

Despite how your feelings continue to overtake your heart for Furin’s “Mad Dog” - you keep gardening shears at the ready to cut them back before their invasive vines reach your mouth. Sugishita was so not forthcoming with his emotions, you were convinced he couldn’t feel the same way, and you weren’t willing to jeopardize your newfound friendship.

Umemiya finally asks to meet you one day since Sugishita was spending so much time with you, so he brought you to Pothos to meet Furin’s leader, Kotoha and some of the Furin kings. Though you don’t love talking all of the time - you’re able to communicate really well, and come across pretty bubbly when you do talk. After meeting you, they all think your friendship is adorable since you two are like ‘night and day’, but they also seem relieved that you’re obviously a very kind and caring person. They hid it well, but you still picked up on the fact that they were a bit worried for their friend since Sugishita doesn’t talk, let alone explain much.

After they meet you, Umemiya asks Sugishita if he likes you as “more than a friend” and Sugishita defensively denies it. Umemiya just laughs and says ‘Well, I hope that’s true, because it won’t be long before someone tries to steal her from you,” he says with a teasing grin and arch of his brow.

Sugishita is on edge after that. Truly he hadn’t considered the fact that you might want to spend time with someone else eventually, and that realization surfaced a ton of scary emotions for him. So the next time you two are sitting at the park, he uncharacteristically talks more than usual.

The moment the two of you sit down on the bench, he’s fidgeting his hands in his lap and twitching his shoes in the dirt. Frequently you peered over at him, but the moment he met your gaze he’d look away immediately. Finally, you pin him with that same intense stare he’d give others until he faced you fully and just came out with whatever was on his mind.

“I like you Y/N,” his monotone mutter wavered slightly as a blush crept over his cheeks. Dubiously, you tilt your head with a notch in your brow at him - trying to decipher what that meant.

“I like you too Sugishita!” Chirping brightly at him after the short pause as your face smoothes out, and for a beat his face lights up in surprise and a smile starts to curl his lips. Until you add, “Honestly, and I’ve never told you this, but you’re my best friend.” Admitting with a bashful giggle. Immediately, his face falls as he turns away and he begins fidgeting again - you almost ask him what’s wrong but he meets your gaze with a determined look on his face. By the way, “determined” on Sugishita’s face just looks like a severe glare, so you jump at first.

“Y/N.” He says meaningfully and you lean in slightly - looking up at him through your thick lashes. Gulp - he swallows hard before continuing. “I like you… as more… than a… friend.” Through gritted teeth he breathes the words out, eyes pleading. Just due to his demeanor, you’re stunned, sitting there blinking rapidly for several minutes. Despite every nerve in his being telling him to run and that this was all a huge mistake - he stays and speaks some more. “Y/N, I want to be your boyfriend. If that’s okay with you?” Asking slowly, in such a quiet, vulnerable tone that contrasts his usual one. Finally, you’re released from your shock.

“Really?” Whispering so softly eyes welling with tears. “Sugishita… of course!” Crying out as you nod quickly. As for Sugishita, well, he’s usually not an expressive person but he beamed at you as the tips of his ears burned brightly. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time - I just had no idea you’ve felt the same.” Admitting quietly as you regard him with a soft expression, and he just bashfully nods while averting his gaze.

After that day in the park the two of you were official, but still a little awkward. Neither of you were used to dating, so touching each other - even holding hands - was kind of off the table. Honestly, the two of you kind of acted the same as you did before so no one really knew. Umemiya thought it was odd that Sugishita was still so calm after their conversation, so he asked Sugishita about it while rooftop gardening. The raven haired teen simply said the two of you were dating now while going about his task - that’s how all of Furin found out that you were official.

As for you - your friends found out when they tried to set you up with one of their brothers who had a crush on you, but you politely told them that you were seeing someone. They begged for photos so you showed them the only one you had saved that Umemiya took of the two of you.

It was from that day in Pothos when you met everyone - you and Sugishita are sitting side by side in a booth, and you are looking off to the side (Tsubaki was talking to you in depth about fashion) and Sugishita is peering over at you. Except that severe look he usually wore had softened completely, a small smile curled the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were brimming with so much adoration. That’s how everyone in your life found out.

It’s been a solid six months since you and Sugishita started dating, but everyone still just calls you ‘friends’. When you asked your bestie about it she said “you don’t act like a couple. Like you hang out a lot, but I’ve never seen the two of you touch each - not even holding hands!”

Her words plague your thoughts for the rest of the day. They were still heavy in your mind as you were hanging out in Sugishita’s backyard later that day. The two of you were sitting on the bench looking at the daffodils starting to bloom.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly reach out and take hold of Sugishita's thumb (too afraid to take his whole hand), and he immediately jumps but doesn’t pull away. He just looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, kind of like he would look at Sakura, which makes you cower a little.

”So-sorry…” whispering quietly as you let go of his hand and fold yours in your lap. He just keeps staring at you, but you won’t look at him - finding interest in a daffodil swaying in the breeze.

After an exceptionally long pause, Sugishita gently holds his hand above your lap with his thumb stuck out for you causing you to look back up at him in surprise. His expression is confused, maybe a little apprehensive, and certainly nervous. Gently, you take his thumb in your hand again and hold it in your lap, but the staring contest isn’t over yet as he silently pleads for an explanation.

”M-my friend said that everyone keeps calling us ‘just friends’ even though we’re dating, because no one ever sees us touch each other - or even hold hands,” you explain quietly as Sugishita’s brow furrows and he tilts his head to the side, perplexed. “It’s not that I care what other people think, but you are my boyfriend and I would like to touch you sometimes…” trailing off as a vibrant blush overtakes his face. “Not anything crazy… It’s just hard for me to even,” looking down at where you’re holding his thumb, “I was never hugged, or kissed or loved on at home, and I just don’t know how… I’m trying to find a way though, because if there’s anyone I want to do that with it’s you.” Admitting so softly before returning your gaze to the daffodil. Another, extraordinarily long pause passes, where you can feel Sugishita’s eyes boring into you, but you don’t break the silence.

Without warning, Sugishita wraps his fingers around your hand where you’re holding his thumb and pulls so your top half is leaning in front of him, and then he uses his other arm to scoop you up and pull you into his lap. Promptly, he wraps one arm tightly around you while the other stays between you, his thumb still in your grasp, and then he hides his face in your neck. Neither of you speak, or move, or breathe really as you just sit there and get comfortable feeling each other so close. Then, like the wind whistling through a gnarled stump in the dead of night - he finally speaks.

”Me too,” he whispers into your hair. That’s all he says, but you understand - he’s the same as you in a lot of ways, this being one of them. He wants to touch you too, but he doesn’t know how. But he does know that you are the person he wants to touch. The two of you stay like that for a long while, and though your relationship changes marginally (both of you are just slow paced, and that’s okay!!) the two of you start holding hands regularly.

Specifically, when the two of you are sitting somewhere, Sugishita will hold his hand out to you with his thumb sticking out, to which you’ll smile softly and wrap your hand around it - the two of you will sit doing your separate activities while holding hands like that. From that point on though, it is no longer in question whether the two of you are ‘just friends’ or dating. Especially with the way Sugishita blushes brighter than Sakura every time you hold his hand.

Years later, Sugishita still isn’t super touchy-feely, openly that is, but he is actually much more tolerant than he looks - with you and the kids at least. Once your children are old enough they literally use him as a jungle gym while he’s doing things around the house, the whole time he wears a gentle smile as he maneuvers them expertly around corners and furniture.

As for you, Sugishita will come up behind you often - especially when you’re cooking - and place his chin on the top of your head before wrapping his arms around your waste and hugging you snugly from behind. If you are cooking, and it’s something he likes, then he’ll steal a small pinch from the pan while you’re “not looking” (you see every time though).

Your husband only really comes into his own as a touchy feely person when your kids have grown up and moved out - having kids of their own. Teenage Sugishita and Grandpa Sugishita are completely different people. Grandpa Sugi - as the grandkids call him - is often seen scooping them up when they come to visit and peppering their face with kisses.

Around Furin he can be seen carrying one grandkid in one arm, holding the hand of another walking next to him, while a third sits atop his shoulders - hugging his head for stability. Of course, you always take the third one and put them on your shoulders instead - more securely - to both their and Grandpa Sugi’s dislike as they grumble in a way that has to be genetic.

Kiryu Mitsuki

(4913 WC)

The day you moved in next door to Kiryu Mitsuki is the day you fell in love with him. From the moment you met his viridescent eyes - you were hooked. Most of your childhood was spent playing at his house, at your house, or at the park. Sometimes you would end up in the same class throughout grade school, but the two of you were close friends regardless.

And close friends you remained going into high school, despite your obvious crush on your best friend. Going into that first year, you vowed to keep your feelings to yourself so as to not ruin the friendship, and because you also knew Kiryu would never reciprocate them. He was the coolest person you’ve ever met, popular, and one of the most authentic people you know. Whereas you have always been quiet, shy and a bit of a nerd - to be quite honest, you didn’t think anyone was looking your way.

That was until one of your peers from grade school approached you with a wide grin and desire in his eyes. You were thrown off at first to see him approaching you with that expression - especially since he’s the same guy who broke your glasses three years in a row just for fun.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s been a while! How’ve you been?” Asking cheerily as he leans into your space making you stiffen completely. Unaware of how uncomfortable you are, he keeps talking to you, leaning closer and closer until finally he asks, “So - wanna go on a date with me?”

Grinning ear to ear as he expectantly awaits your affirmative answer, but you’re just stuck there blinking rapidly. He couldn’t be serious, right? The two of you haven’t spoken since you were under 3 feet tall, and this may be the first time he’s ever said a kind word to you.

“Um,” stammering for a moment as you flounder for a response, and then you toss him a tight lipped smile as you inched towards an escape route. “No thank you - I have to go actually,” rushing the words as you duck past him and speed away. Not sparing a glance back either, so you completely miss the way his face sours and his jaw clenches in annoyance.

The next few weeks pass with the same peer following you on all of your social media accounts and DM’ing you until you have to block him and go private. Completely missing the hint though, since he somehow acquired your number and has just started texting you directly until you have to block that as well. Finally, you think it’s over until he starts showing up at your school, job, and sometimes randomly when you’re out with your friends. You don’t even know how he knows where you are. Still, you’re not sure if it’s serious enough to bring up to someone yet.

The last straw is when he shows up on your front doorstep while both your and Kiryu’s parents are gone and he is out on patrol - so you’re totally alone. Knowing better than to answer the door, you crouch in your kitchen with your phone opened to the emergency number already punched in - just in case. For 30 minutes he bangs on your door insistently while calling your name, and then suddenly it just stops. Still, you wait another 15 minutes just to be safe.

When you hear Kiryu opening the front gate to his house, you jump up and sprint out the front door over to him. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he immediately goes on high alert - looking around for whatever caused you to be in such a state. After you catch your breath, everything that’s been going on for the past few weeks right up to the incident less than an hour ago spills out of you in one sentence. Kiryu listens silently - eyes widening and jaw clenching more and more with each word - by the end of your tale his expression is downright murderous.

For a moment you wonder if it was a mistake to tell him as you gently reach out to touch his arm, but then he suddenly snaps out of his stupor - face smoothing out as he throws you a reassuring smile. Though his verdurous eyes were still seething.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Just leave it to me,” reassuring you with a serene smile as you slowly nod - uncertain of what he could mean exactly by his earlier expression. “I just found a new game - wanna play it with me to take your mind off of it?” Offering kindly, and you sigh in relief since the boy next door you were familiar with had returned. Nodding, you follow him into his house and chill there until your parents get home. Kiryu insists on walking you the 15 feet home - just to be safe.

Two days later, the guy approaches you - with a black eye and really nasty split lip - and genuinely apologizes for how creepy and completely out of line he’s been. Then he promises to leave you alone. Stunned into silence, you just nod with wide eyes before he turns and walks away. Later that day, you confront Kiryu about it - expecting him to deny beating the guy up - but he just shrugs at you.

“Yeah I did.” He adds to the gesture, matter of factly. A long pause passes where you just stare at him in disbelief, and as you part your lips to start chastising him, he just gives you a deadpan look that makes you pause. Then he states in a cool tone, “If you would just date me already, then I could’ve just told him that I’m your boyfriend and to back off.”

Wide eyed, you just stare at him with your mouth opening and closing like a guppy - causing him to throw his head back in laughter. ”Y/N, don’t tell me you actually haven’t realized it yet? I mean, I’ve known you’ve liked me since grade school, and it’s not like I’ve tried to hide that I like you.” Teasing you gently as he titters at your shocked expression and blushing cheeks. Dropping your head in embarrassment, you sigh deeply before meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression on your face.

“Before grade school actually,” you whisper softly, and a shocked look replaces his smile as a light dusting of pink crawls over his cheeks. “Since I first moved in next door…” adding quietly as your gaze falls to the floor, but not before you catch a glimpse of Kiryu’s ears turning red.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He asks, genuinely curious with his brows raised.

“Because,” you release an exasperated sigh as you meet his gaze again. “You’re Kiryu Mitsuki and I’m just me,” you say - a little miserable by your own admission. Kiryu’s brow creases in utter confusion as he slowly shakes his head.

“Y/N, I have no idea what that means.” He admits, honestly, and a little concerned by how miserable you seem by the topic of conversation.

“I mean that you’re cool. And popular. And you have no problem being yourself, and a lot of people love that about you. People who are also good at being themselves,” explaining while moving your hands about with each of your points. Kiryu’s brow only furrows more as he moves from confused to perplexed. Taking a deep breath, you add, “I’m just me. I’m quiet. I’m awkward. I’m nerdy, and I just don’t know why anyone as cool as you would like me.” Admitting in a cracked voice as tears brim along your lash line. Kiryu still looks so completely thrown off, but you just give up trying to explain - releasing a tired sigh. After a silent beat, Kiryu’s calm voice breaks the silence.

“I’m only cool because of you, y’know.” Your head cocks at his words as one slippery tear drops down your cheek, and he nods before continuing. “You’re the one who cheers me on every time I do something like dye my hair pink or pierce my face, or just try to be myself. I’m cool for you, Y/N.” He explains earnestly as you deflate a little - all brewing arguments dying on your tongue. “I honestly could care less if anyone else thinks I’m cool, as long as you do. So, please, will you be my girlfriend already?” He asks solemnly, and after a long pause you nod dumbly at him, and then you nod quicker as your face breaks into a bright smile.

“You’ve been trying to be cool for me?” Giggling out softly to him as you wipe away the tears in your eyes - starting to feel a little ridiculous for how you’ve denied your feelings for so long.

”Desperately,” he breathes out - obviously relieved that his feelings have finally reached you. Another fit of giggles strikes you as you lean a little closer to Kiryu - looking up at him through your lashes.

“That makes me so happy Kiryu - of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” gushing excitedly up at him. And even though Kiryu knew he probably shouldn’t, he can’t help but lean forward and press an excited kiss to your cheek. Immediately you tense up and turn a bright red, and when he leans back he’s struck with a fit of giggles at your shocked expression.

After that, the two of you were officially dating, and though he hasn’t kissed you again, Kiryu will also occasionally hold your hand. Although he can feel you’re tense and awkward, he stills wants to do it and show everyone else you’ve moved from friendship into a relationship. You aren’t uncomfortable to the point that this bothers you - you’re just really conscious of the fact that you two are holding hands which makes you feel a little awkward.

Finally, your awkwardness around physical touch comes to a head one day when Kiryu is holding your hand - a blush radiating from your cheeks the whole time - when he suddenly lets you go to assist a shopkeeper with hanging a plant. When he returned to your side, he didn’t immediately grab your hand again like he usually did. A bit confused, you walk along a little longer expecting him to remember at some point, but he’s just babbling about some video game as a notch forms in your brow. Eventually - while he’s mid sentence - you stubbornly reach out and take his hand in yours, gripping it firmly.

“Oh, and that one level-” Kiryu stops and looks down at your smaller hand holding onto him by his fingers, and then looks back up and has to stifle a laugh at your expression. You’re looking at him with that same notch in your brow, your lips pulled in a small pout, and slight betrayal in your eyes. “I’m sorry - did you want to keep holding my hand?” Asking in a teasing tone with a slight arch of his brow.

Blushing furiously up to your ears as your expression turns shocked and you quickly look away, but don’t let go of his hand. Humming a small ‘mhm’ as the two of you keep walking. Kiryu titters to himself, but doesn’t tease you further since you finally touched him.

Holding firmly onto his hand until you were settled on a bean bag in his bedroom, as he sets up a 2 player game on his console across the room. Without turning around, he breaks the awkward silence in his signature calm tone.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve held my hand…” he says with an obvious smile in his voice. Proven when he turned around and the corners of his mouth were turned up. “Anything you want to talk about?” Asking in a knowing tone as he arches a brow at your expression.

Nodding slowly - that notch from earlier back in your brow, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, and hands clasped in your lap as you twirl your thumbs. Laughing lightly, Kiryu nods at you to go ahead.

“I-I don’t know why,” you start in a timid voice - eyes darting back and forth, “but I get really self conscious and awkward when we hold hands.” Meeting his gaze for a moment as he nods again for you to continue. “But I really like it too, and I think I would like to touch you more… but I’m just so awkward I can feel it in my bones. I don’t know how not to be, or how to just let myself enjoy it, y’know?” Finishing in an uncertain tone as you tilt your head forward to look at him through your lashes. Kiryu is just staring back at you with the most amused expression - a scheming look in his eyes.

“I have a few ideas of how to help with that,” offering in a low tone that you’ve never heard him use before as your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Slowly, you nod your head without breaking eye contact. Kiryu crawls over to where you’re seated on the bean bag, and sits on his knees in front of you. “Can I hold you?” Asking with a tilt of his head as he holds his arms out to you, again, you nod slowly.

Wordlessly, Kiryu scoops you up and sits himself down in the bean bag chair before sitting you on his lap. Your legs are bent in front of you between his legs, his arms are loosely wrapped around you, and your back flush to his chest. Kiryus gently places his chin on top of your head. At first, you’re incredibly tense and so red you’re sure you’re radiating heat at this point. Kiryu just calmly sits there without moving until you ever so gradually relax into him - eyes wide and expression uncertain.

Ever so slowly, he begins letting his hands drift down over your skirt to caress your bare legs, feather light touches cascade over your skin making you squirm and blush. Kiryu laughs through his nose, but doesn’t cease his movement. It was almost imperceivable as he leaned forward and let his lips ghost over your earlobe to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. Turning your head swiftly to meet his gaze, but Kiryu had already leaned back and over to the side to place another kiss to the nape of your neck while you were turned away.

This game of cat and mouse continued - Kiryu’s fingertips ghosting over your bare legs and arms, only barely over your ribs at times, while he peppered kisses on your cheeks, neck and shoulders - the whole time you maneuvering and craning your neck to try and look him in his vibrant green eyes. Finally, when you let out a frustrated sigh and leaned back in his chest while crossing your arms - Kiryu devolved into a fit of laughter at your annoyed pout.

“Do you want me to stop?” Kiryu asked in a teasing tone, and you instantly released another sigh while turning your head to the side. He starts to pull his arms back while speaking in that same teasing tone. “You just had to say so,” he breathes against the shell of your ear as he begins to lean away from you, but you quickly grab his wrists to stop him. Pulling him forward slightly, you wrap his arms around your torso and lean back into his chest again.

“I-I want… more…” muttering through your stubborn pout, still refusing to meet your boyfriend’s gaze. Kiryu chuckles low before smiling serenely at your embarrassed demeanor.

Tightening his arms around you, he leaned forward until his chin rested on your shoulder, and then he whispered, “You just had to say so,” fanning hot breath over your skin.

Swiftly, Kiryu repositions you so you’re cradled in his arms and peering up into his mischievous green eyes with a surprised expression on your face. Stifling a laugh at your blushing cheeks and wide eyes, he bends down to place a kiss to your forehead before peppering kisses all over your face and neck. At first you tense and flinch under his affection, but gradually you loosen up and lean into him more and more until you fall into a fit of blushing giggles.

Kiryu pauses in his affectionate attack to hug you tightly to him and bury his nose in your hair until you both calm down a bit. A wide grin tugging at his lips at how good it feels to finally hold you like this. After a few moments, you wordlessly meet his serene gaze, and without warning you cup his cheeks in your hands before leaning up and slotting your lips with his. Kiryu freezes for a moment - stunned and red in the face - until he relaxes and kisses you back, tightening his hold on you even more.After parting from the kiss, both of you stare at each other warmly for a long moment, before devolving into a fit of giggles together this time.

From this day on, you really don’t have any qualms with holding Kiryu’s hand or sharing a kiss. Now, your favorite thing he does is when he gives a surprise hug from behind while pressing a kiss to your cheek. In private, Kiryu and you often sit in the same bean bag - him in it and you in between his legs - when playing video games or watching a movie. You don’t feel awkward at all any more, and just relish in being able to enjoy your boyfriend’s loving touches.

It wasn’t until the two of you graduated and were living in the same apartment on campus that your relationship went a step further. After the first semester, you surprised Kiryu with a nice homemade dinner and told him that you were ready once the meal was finished. Knowing this was coming eventually, he eagerly cleared the table as you went to get ready without question.

For tonight you bought an olive green, retro lingerie set that was a bralette and a pair of high waisted underwear. To wear over it you purchased a silky pink robe - as close to Kiryu’s hair as you could find - with lace trim around the sleeves and bottom hemline. Once you are touched up and adorned in your outfit, you step out into the living room to find Kiryu waiting patiently on the couch.

The moment his gaze locks on you, those vibrant green eyes are set ablaze like Greek Fire, and it almost burns where they travel over you. After he’s thoroughly snapped the mental image of you looking like the birth of Aphrodite emerging from the hallway - he holds his hand out to you palm up. Crossing the room with a shy smile tugging at your lips, you take his hand and let him lead you to stand in front of him in between his legs.

“I like this,” breathing out heavily as he runs his fingertips along the opening of the robe before smoothing his palms over the velvet hugging your hips. Kiryu continues caressing his hands along your velvety clad curves as his eyes fill with lusty adoration.

“I bought it for you,” you admit softly, and Kiryu’s eyes snap to your face - a little confused. He didn’t want to assume, but who else would you buy it for? Giggling softly at his expression, you point at the green velvet, “your eyes,” and then you grasp the sleeve of the robe in your other hand to hold up to him, “your hair. Though I couldn’t find the right green, so I had to settle.” Adding with a small pout, but Kiryu barely registers the last thing you said as he leans back against the couch to take you in fully once more.

If he had been looking at you with pure adoration before, then this may be closer to worship with his eyes wide, lips slightly parted and brows raised. It felt like he was hit by a Mack Truck - he honestly felt like he couldn’t be any more in love with you, until now.

“Pink and Green aren’t even your favorite colors though,” chuckling lightly while shaking his head at you. Ever since the two of you were young you always said you enjoyed nude colors, you just feel more yourself in them.

“Yeah, but you’re my favorite color,” murmuring with a bashful smile as a blush creeps up your chest all the way to the tips of your ears. Kiryu’s virescent eyes widen before he reaches forward and grabs you by the hips and pulls you down into his lap so you’re sitting on one of his thighs. Without missing a beat, he begins pressing open mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck.

“I’m your favorite color?” He asks teasingly as he nips at your collarbone before pulling back to meet your half lidded gaze with his heated one. “Promise?” Whispering against your mouth and you subtly nod before slotting your lips with his. Kiryu titters into the kiss as he repositions you both to lay on the couch - you on your back and Kiryu’s hips slotted between your thighs.

Your boyfriend is agonizingly slow with his ministrations - trailing his lips down your neck and over you shoulder, slipping the rob off of you as he peppers kisses down your arm to your fingertips. Then, trailing his lips back up your arm, placing open mouth kisses where the strap of your bralette was as he pulls it off your shoulder. Moving down, he begins kissing along the hem of the bralette across your ribs as he slowly lifts the velvety fabric and pulls it off of you.

Before going in farther, Kiryu’s verdant orbs cut to your face again - searching for any sign of discomfort. But all he finds is unbridled excitement and lust as you nod eagerly for him to continue. You see Kiryu take a deep breath to steady himself before turning his attention back to your bare chest. Ever so slowly he brings both hands up to palm them lightly - gently squeezing and rolling the satisfying fat under his hand before moving his hands to cup under them so he can dip his face into the valley of your breasts. First, he places open mouthed kisses along the insides of them before moving to pepper kisses along the tops of your mounds. Then, finally, he brings his lips to over one pert nipple before licking it with the tip of his tongue, and then Kiryu wraps his mouth around it completely. At the same time he moves to roll your other nipple between his fingertips. The new sensations are overwhelming, causing you to arch your back and with it your chest even closer to his hands and mouth. Quiet whines and moans fall from your lips and into Kiryu’s ears causing him to grin against your sensitive skin.

When your soft sounds become more desperate, Kiryu finally makes his way down - littering kisses and gentle nips across your ribs, then down the center of your abdomen until his lips halt at the hemline of your underwear. Casting his gaze up through his lashes at you, he silently waits for permission to continue, and you bite your bottom lip anxiously before giving him a determined nod. Ever so slowly, Kiryu hooks his fingers into the top of your underwear before sliding them down to your ankles - watching your expression closely and giving you ample time to change your mind.

Once the garment is deposited on the floor, Kiryu leans back on his heels to stare at you in all your glory. Goosebumps pucker along your flushed skin as you squirm under his unabashed gaze, and then he reaches out to splay his hand over your abdomen before ghosting it down over your hip and up your thigh to rest on your bent knee. Vibrant, pastoral eyes following the path of his hand - watching the shiver that runs through your muscles from his touch. The expression that crosses his face is the same when he beats a difficult game - triumph and satisfaction.

Slowly bending forward, he brings his lips to your other knee - keeping your legs spread apart - as he gently grabs under your calf with his other hand and extends the leg he’s kissing. Trailing pecks and love bites up your calf to your ankle, where he pauses to cut those heated green eyes to you before grinning deviously as he places your ankle on his shoulder and begins working his way back down. Halting at your knee to bite the back of your knee, causing you to jump and your slick cunt to clench eagerly, before he drags his tongue along the sensitive skin there, then he places a long and sloppy kiss there. Your breathing becomes uneven as his grip on your thigh tightens and his thumb starts tracing circles on your other knee.

“Kiry-u!” Moaning desperately as the string in your abdomen begins to tighten. Grinning wide into your skin, and you shiver while releasing a shaky breath at the sensation of his teeth against the sensitive area. Pulling his lips away, he then leans forward completely - sliding your knees onto his shoulders - until he’s face to face with your drooling pussy. Those Greek Fire eyes have become hungry as he looks up at you from between your thighs for permission.

“Can I kiss you here too?” He asks, oh so innocently, with a slight raise of his eyebrows and everything, but the mischievous look in his gaze betrays his tone. Regardless, you nod with a breathless “uh-huh”. Kiryu’s eyes fall back to your glistening folds as he drags his palms to your hips to grip them and pull you closer. First, he leans forward until his nose bumps that sensitive bundle of nerves, causing you to hiss, and then he breathes in deeply before releasing a long, satisfied sigh. Warm air fans your folds, shooting a shiver up your spine, and then Kiryu ever so slowly drags his tongue through your folds. Back arching off the couch, you unintentionally push your dripping core closer to his eager mouth and without missing a beat he latches his mouth onto you. Licking up your arousal while mapping out your folds up to your clit with the tip of his tongue, and then he maneuvers his wet muscle down to your entrance. Teasing it slowly at first by pushing the tip of his tongue just through that ring of muscle and then pulling it back before pushing it again, over and over again at a leisurely pace that was making you lose your mind. Even more so by the way his fingertips were digging into the fat of your hips bruisingly - holding you tightly in place.

When you finally reach down and card your finger through his rose colored locks - gripping on tightly as you buck into his mouth - Kiryu relinquishes and pushes his tongue fully through the ring of muscle to glide along your gummy walls. Groaning deeply as his eyes roll back into his head as his ministrations become more insistent, the vibration only makes you buck harder into him as you cry out desperately for more. Kiryu moans approvingly into your clenching core as he grips and pulls on your hips to wordlessly tell you to keep grinding against him. Following his silent direction, you grip his hair harder and pull him closer as you grind shamelessly on his lithe tongue.

Suddenly, the string in your abdomen becomes so taught it finally snaps, and with it your release comes crashing over you. Arching your back off the couch as Kiryu’s name is ripped from your lips in a breathy cry and every muscle in your body tenses with euphoria before they relax - pleasure washing through your being - as you collapse back onto the couch. Kiryu pulls his tongue back, but doesn’t stop his ministrations - gradually slowing as you come down from your orgasm. After you’ve relaxed entirely - boneless as you catch your breath - your boyfriend continues licking your folds, cleaning you and drinking every last drop of you.

Once he’s finished, and finally comes up for air - an immensely satisfied look on his face - he regards your flushed cheeks and drowsy eyes. Grinning ear to ear, he lays down beside you and pulls you flush to his chest. “Thank you for the meal,” he breathes against your temple before pressing a loving kiss there as you curl into him and murmur a soft, tired ‘thank you’ in return.

It wasn’t long before you are drifting off to sleep in Kiryu’s arms - him holding you so securely as he continues peppering kisses into your hair and whispering sweet nothings.

‘You taste utterly divine,’ ‘I love the faces you make when you cum - you're so beautiful Y/N’, ‘I can't wait make you scream like that again’.

Until he finally drifted off to sleep with his nose still buried in your hair and a serene smile tugging at his lips.

After this it still takes some time for you two to go all the way, but that was mostly because of Kiryu. He said you’re an overachiever by nature and would focus on his pleasure before you ever found out how good he could make you feel. So you followed his lead, and you were glad you did because it wasn’t long before Kiryu showed you just how well he knows your body.

#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker boys x touch starved reader #pernesophe #SP's Headspace

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anonymousewrites · 18 days ago

Text

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance Comment Special

Comment Special

“Hello, everyone!” Mouse sat down at their desk—decorated comically with a variety of knick-knacks like a Spock ornament, crystals, and a pesto jar—and smiled at the audience reading this chapter. Hey, this might not be a TV interview, but they were going to have fun with it. “I got an ask on Tumblr a while ago from @digital-dumbass about letting Saiki and (Y/N) react to comments about them! For the sake of clarity, (Y/N) will be referring to themself as their codename that I give all my MCs. In this case, ‘Pink.’ ”

“That is my color,” said Pink, smiling. “It fits Kusuo, too.”

“I don’t need this attention. It’s bad enough you all follow me around,” said Saiki.

“Well, Pink asked you to do this, so I know you’re going to,” said Mouse, smiling. “As @phasmatodea (Bug) said on Quotev, ‘the moment mc is involved he really is immediately willing to get into anything.’ ”

“…It’s that obvious?” Saiki sighed.

“Need more evidence?” said Mouse innocently.

“No,” said Saiki.

“Yes!” said Pink, already extremely entertained.

“From @edelweiss80880 on Quotev,” said Mouse.

“Saiki gives:

‘saiki: if a pretty person ([pink]) disagreed with me i'd immediately change my views i have no principle [pink]: well, maybe you should have principles saiki: you're right maybe i should’ vibes”

“Does he really go along with me so much?” said Pink.

Mouse grinned. “Definitely.”

“You know you don’t have to, Kusuo,” said Pink, looking at their boyfriend. “If you don’t feel comfortable doing something, I’d never make you.”

“That’s why I do do things with you. I have the choice,” said Saiki. Respect was key.

“Of course I’d give you a choice,” said Pink. “You’re a person. Everyone deserves that.”

Saiki stared at them with his usual “wow I am so lucky they’re with me” expression.

“I feel like I should leave the room because you two are having a moment, but we’ve got more comments, so shall we continue?” said Mouse.

“Oh, yeah! I’m really excited,” said Pink.

“I bet you are,” said Mouse. “So, let’s start with Book 1, back when you two were hopelessly pining for one another and being idiots about liking each other.”

“I don’t need to revisit this.” It was embarrassing enough to Saiki.

“Come on, Kusuo,” said Pink, nudging his arm.

“Fine,” said Saiki.

“First up, from @phasmatodea—they always have such great comments, seriously—.”

“When did Saiki start noticing fashion outside of himself? When it was (Y/N) looking like a sweet, which Saiki liked just as much as he liked (Y/N).” CORNYYYYYY!!!!!!! (fuckifg love these guys 😕)

“You think that about me?” Pink smiled at Saiki. “That’s so sweet, Kusuo. Pun intended.”

“You’re special,” said Saiki, embarrassed.

“Did people always notice how close we were?” said Pink.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” said Mouse. “Your favoritism for each other is incredibly obvious. And people got super tired, affectionately, of you two dancing around your feelings. Do you remember when you watch Pride and Prejudice?”

Pink and Saiki nodded.

“You two almost confessed but the oven went off with the cookies and people were sooo frustrated,” said Mouse. “Like @ Big-tiddy-goth on quotev.”

“ON MY KNEES PUNCHIMG THE GROUND NOOOOOOO.”

“…Did we really almost confess?” said Pink.

“Yeah, you two were just too oblivious to talk about it,” said Mouse. “Your obliviousness is honestly impressive. But you did eventually confess, and people loved it! From, @minty51698 on Quotev:”

“OMG FINALLY OMG OMG OMG OMG IM CRYING FINALLY DUDE FINALLY OMG”

“This is humiliating,” said Saiki.

“I was just as excited as they were,” said Pink, smiling. They looked at Saiki. “Getting to be with you is so amazing. I’m so glad we finally talked about how we felt.”

“…Me, too,” said Saiki, gazing at them.

“Saps,” said Mouse.

“Shut up,” said Saiki.

“Don’t play with me,” said Mouse. “Here is a comment from @digital-dumbass just for you, Saiki.”

“BRO IS DOWN BAD HORRENDOUSLY AND IM HERE FOR IT.”

Saiki glared at Mouse.

“Need more?” Mouse just grinned happily. “How about from @insleftdimple on ao3?”

“He's absolutely DOWN HORRENDOUS 💀💀 The word "simp" couldn't even encompass how far gone he is for [PINK] 🙏 (how I like my men fr)”

Pink covered their mouth and laughed as Saiki sighed. None of his affection was going unnoticed.

“Don’t pretend not to be a sap when you’re head-over-heels for Pink,” said Mouse.

“I’m down bad for him, too!” said Pink, grinning. They held Saiki’s hand. “Just as much as Saiki likes me, I like him.”

Saiki’s cheeks turned pink. “Yes.” He agreed to the declaration, the best he could do to say out loud that he really, really, really liked them. (The commenters were all completely correct).

“Don’t we know it. We’ve seen your jealousy,” said Mouse. “As observed by @bladeswifesthings when Miko flirted with you both, Saiki got pretty protective.”

“ “too bad for her, there mine ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ” Heheeheheheehhehehe this is just so cute (⁠づ⁠｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡⁠)⁠づ I like kusuo like this 🫣”

“You thought that?” A heavy blush appeared on Pink’s cheeks.

“You’re my partner. Not hers,” said Saiki, just as fiercely as ever.

“Yeah, but you understand the attraction,” said Mouse. “I mean, you even sympathize with people who might bet a crush on them. From @phasmatodea on Quotev again—wow, they are such a lovely commenter—”

“ ‘Saiki wasn't sure whether to be pleased or concerned that Teruhashi would get a crush on them. He would understand.’ atp i honestly don’t know if i aspire to find someone as down bad as him or be someone as down bad as him LMAO”

“I’d rather she didn’t get a crush on them. That would be troublesome,” said Saiki.

“Me and Kokomi?” Pink considered. “I don’t think we’d work out as a couple. I think Kokomi needs to be with someone who doesn’t just look at her appearance and sees her for who she is, but she first deserves friends who do that, and she has those! Hopefully that’ll show her that she has worth beyond her looks and then she’ll find someone to date for who they are, too.”

“Can you expound on that?” said Mouse. “Plenty of people like your friendship and the way you’re friends with her even if she has a crush on Saiki.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, she does, but it’s not real feelings,” said Pink. “It’s kind of like Kusuo wanting someone to treat him as a normal person.”

Saiki’s head snapped towards them. They had seen through him like that?

Pink continued without looking at him. “They’re both people who are different, and they both want to feel normal. Kusuo just is able to verbalize that. Kokomi hasn’t figured it out yet. That’s why she has a crush on Kusuo and he—and other people—think she might like me. She sees us treating her as a normal person should be treated—with respect and not just looking at appearances. But I think she’s going to figure out that she doesn’t need to be in a relationship with Kusuo or I. I mean, our friends find her pretty, but they still hang out with her like regular people. I think it’ll give her the validation of being worth more than her reputation and then she’ll get over her crush on Kusuo.” Pink smiled. “I’m just glad she’s my friend and is growing. She deserves self-esteem, and that comes from not just looks.” They shrugged. “And, obviously, it’s the same for Kusuo. He has abilities but should be treated as a normal person who is worth his personality, not his powers. They’re really quite similar.” Pink chuckled. “Different personalities but similar problems. I’m glad I am helping them. They deserve to be loved for who they are.”

Honestly, Mouse could see hearts in Saiki’s eyes.

“Oh, wow.”

Pink looked at Saiki in surprise and turned bright red. “Kusuo?”

“Ignore that,” said Saiki.

“Too late,” said (Y/N). “People like @phasmatodea are literally thinking they should count your ‘oh, wow’s at this point.”

“He says ‘oh, wow’ about me a lot?” said Pink, surprised.

“Oh, yeah. In the words of @phasmatodea:”

“JJSKSJDJ i should start counting the “oh wow”s again honestly”

“It got up to four in Book 1,” said Mouse.

“They always manage to surprise me,” said Saiki. “They’re special.”

“That’s so sweet,” said Pink, leaning in and kissing Saiki’s cheek. “I’m not that special, but I’m glad you like me.”

“You are special,” said Saiki.

“Oh, yeah, commenters would agree,” said Mouse. “I mean, people love you, Pink.”

“Really? That’s so cool!” said Pink, brightening.

“Your sarcasm, your insight about Teruhashi, all of it,” said Mouse. “@phasmatodea loves that you’re so cheerful even when things are going to hell.”

“man i love it whenever mc is all joyful during something serious like ‘that’s deeply concerning ^_^!!’ it makes me giggle”

“I’m so glad I’m making people laugh,” said Pink. “I love doing it.”

“I think @digital-dumbass’s comment about you really sums it up,” said Mouse.

“[Pink] IS THAT BITCH LETS NOT FORGET ✨💅✨💅✨💅”

“You handle shit, you’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re strong,” said Mouse. “Saiki, you got lucky.”

“I know,” said Saiki, gazing at Pink. He never wanted to lose them.

“It’s me who got lucky,” said Pink. “He’s the best boyfriend I could ever ask for.”

Mouse looked at them gazing at each other. “Wow, @phasmatodea really called it. You two ‘should just get married already [you] already act like [you] are LMAO.’ ”

“Married?” Pink blushed. “I mean, we’re still in high school, but…I do really like Kusuo.” They looked at him. “I want to be with him as long as he wants to be with me.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else,” said Saiki, smiling slightly at he look at Pink. They grinned and leaned on his shoulder fondly.

“Has your Mom talked you about the wedding, yet?” said Mouse with an impish grin. “ @yuuriisclumsy is right, I think, that she’s probably pestering you.”

Saiki groaned. “Yare yare.”

“Come on, tell the truth,” said Mouse.

“…My family considers Pink a part of our family,” said Saiki.

“Really?” Pink smiled. “That’s really sweet of them. I really like your family.”

“All of them?” Saiki didn’t believe that was possible.

“…Fine, Kusuke can be troublesome,” said Pink, shrugging.

“But, still, as NeedleGoose on ao3 says,” said Mouse.

“[Pink] is accepted into Saikis family and truly just belongs there.”

“You two are meant to be together,” said Mouse. “Honestly, I could flip through people gushing about you two forever. You’re really loved. You’ve made so many people happy—and jealous. What are your final thoughts?”

“I love Pink. It has nothing to do with you. I just do,” said Saiki.

“Aha, so all the times you’re head-over-heels, simping, and down-bad for them, it’s all-natural? No exaggeration? Good to know,” said Mouse, smiling.

Pink chuckled and took Saiki’s hand. “I know he cares about me. I don’t need to hear him gush about it to understand. That’s what’s nice about being with him. I never doubt him.” They smiled at Saiki and then at Mouse. “As for everyone who likes us together, thank you so much! I’m hoping you all find such a great relationship with whoever you’re interested in. You all deserve love. And until then and even after, Kusuo and I are here to make you smile. Or, well, Mouse is.”

“I am,” said Mouse. “That’s why I write what I write. And that’s why I’m so honored to get the comments I do. Thank you to everyone. Thank you to @digital-dumbass for this idea. Thank you Pink and Saiki for coming in to speak. And to everyone reading—thank you for being here.”

Taglist:

@elaemae, @painstakingly-juno, @characterreaderwriter, @melovepurple, @sleep-7372, @w0mank1sser, @geminigengar, @noodleryworld, @leonardo-dabitchy, @janezee12751275, @xenop0p, @ex160-blog1, @boogiemansbitch, @dmitrytherat, @yuriisclumsy, @sixxze, @constellationguy, @k03ume, @sweatyinternettrash, @paastaboi, @unorthodox-gob, @girlswhopanic, @h-i-g-h-w-a-y-t-o-h-e-l-l-l, @drowningfishy, @rinwho, @izzieg3987, @candylp, @jmclouds, @ittomain1, @justamina-blog, @newtscreatures347269, @digital-dumbass, @chronovala, @yappydoo, @mymomsdisappointment, @lvvcian, @kyliexreads, @b3bybunny, @sle3pyh3ad2, @snowy-violet, @jaguarthecat, @isaacdaknight, @newttheglue250, @thelameone101, @peqch-pie, @rai-xxx, @loverzxi, @s0ggyrats, @introvertathome, @pandaquick, @sleepyk0dyz, @girgal73

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clarionglass · 8 months ago

Text

yeah, we all knew this one was coming. 5395 words, if you're wondering exactly how bad the brain rot has set in ^^;

----- deja vu (sam reich!master cinematic universe, part 2)

Right from the beginning of Game Changer, Sam had had a small monitor in his dressing room where he could watch the show being recorded. He'd always appreciated it being there, but never quite understood the point of having it, if he was going to be on stage hosting the shows himself.

When his doppelganger was hosting, though, being able to watch the show while hidden away was absolutely ideal.

Since Escape the Greenroom, the pair had been less cautious about being seen in the building together. It was always more enjoyable to debrief immediately after a show, and besides, they had their secret weapon. The magic technology that kept anyone from thinking too hard about two Sams in the one place had turned out to be nothing more than a small lump of circuitry attached to a key on a loop of string, and whichever Sam wasn't on set at the time held onto it and watched the session from the dressing room. It was an extra precaution—hell, if everyone knew Sam was in the middle of a recording, why would they be going into his dressing room—but it was handy to have nonetheless.

It didn't work if you knew what you were looking for, though, so when the door creaked open and his doppelganger walked in, pure glee painted across his face from ear to ear, he turned his megawatt smile on Sam straight away.

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Good record, was it?”

“Oh, was it ever.”

“Well, great!” Sam replied. “You were pretty keen for this one, glad it lived up to expectations.”

As his double nodded with satisfaction, Sam's eyes flicked back to the monitor, now showing a view of backstage, and Trapp, Ify and Siobhan talking quietly to each other.

Something felt off. They didn't seem distressed or anything bad, bad, but the energy between the three contestants was weirdly muted. As it was for everyone, actually. Josh, Zac, Brian—the general vibe backstage was sitting noticeably lower than usual, particularly with such big personalities in the room.

“How'd the cast take it, though?” he asked. “They all look exhausted, was everything alright?”

His doppelganger flapped a hand dismissively. “Oh, they're fine. It was just a long record.”

“No longer than usual,” Sam said, with a brief glance down at his watch and a frown. “We had seven loops planned, right? And you definitely didn't get through all of them, you only did, what—”

“Five, yeah,” his double agreed, speaking with him. “For the episode, we ended up recording five.”

There was an odd tone in his voice as he said it, an emphasis on the specifics that was just a little too weighted. Sam grimaced.

“I'm sensing there's a but coming.”

“Yeah,” his doppelganger admitted slowly, then grinned, a bright, twinkling expression of pure mischief. “We actually ran a lot more loops than that.”

“Wait,” Sam said, “wait. No, you didn't, I was watching the entire thing.”

“Come on,” his doppelganger shot back, a bite of impatience bleeding into his excitement. “You really think I'd fight to do the fake time loop episode and not throw in a real time loop or five?”

“Oh my god.” It was all Sam could say, and he really couldn't tell if he was impressed, or dumbfounded, or just really fucking worried. “Oh, my god. What did you do?”

The giddy delight shining in his double's eyes as his smile broadened even further, brilliant and infectious and only slightly predatory, did nothing to calm Sam's nerves.

---

The first loop went well enough, and confusingly enough. Weird trivia, questions that clearly had an answer, but no way of working out what that answer was, cameos that didn’t seem to relate to anything—it was strange, but you knew that was what you were getting into when you signed up for Game Changer. Trapp, Ify and Siobhan knew that there was a solution to it, but they’d just have to work until they found it.

And then Sam pulled out that bizarre dance that he expected them all to join in on, and accidentally kicked Kevin’s camera out of his hands, and the three of them shuffled offstage for a two minute reset.

The second loop, the pieces were starting to fit into place. The trivia was a memory tester; the weird questions had answers that could only be worked out with knowledge gained in previous rounds; Zac’s—sorry, Grant’s—spaghetti was going to cause problems by way of Brian’s podium inspector; the list went on.

This time, it was pretty clear that the kick wasn’t accidental.

The third loop, everyone knew they were dealing with loops right from the start.

“I think my watch battery is dead,” grumbled Ify on the t̷͖͗̅h̶̥̔͗i̴͉̞̊r̴̭͘d̵̢͔͌̈́ loop.

Loop aft̵̐͜e̷̘̓r̵̩͊ ḽ̵̞́o̷͉̬̼͈͘ö̸̖̠̭́̈̀p̶̡̣̖͂ ạ̸͌͘f̸̱̲͐͗t̶͈͐̇ẻ̶͇̮̄ř̷̤̗͝ ̷̹̌l̸͎͎̔̀̅̀̀̕ò̸̢̨̜͓̳̮̀̕o̶̮̕p̵̪̫̠̝̘̒͒͗̚ͅ, ad infinitum ad nauseam.

A few loops in, Siobhan watched Brian get paler and paler as he examined the trio of podiums. And this time, he was actually taking the time to look at them properly, not just making an act of peering through that stupid little magnifying glass in order to justify a foregone conclusion. He was acting weird, even for him.

Still, he put a good face on it, declaring each one dirty in increasingly elaborate ways, just as he had every time before. Something had clearly rattled him, though, and it made her uneasy in turn.

“Sir? Excuse me, sir?” she said, just as she had the last few rounds, and smiled sweetly with a dollar bill folded in her palm. As Brian came over, she locked eyes with him, hoping the look was enough to convey her question.

“Camcorder, Jan ‘97,” he muttered as he took the money, and had given her the (bribed) point and hurried backstage before she could ask what he meant.

She knew the video he was referring to, it was one of his. Creepy, definitely, but very well-done, all about rewinding tape and rewriting time. And—yeah, man, duh. This was the time loop episode, apparently, so why state the obvious? And why so cryptically?

Unless… unless it was something to do with time loops that wasn’t to do with the format of the episode.

How long had they been recording, anyway? All their phones were in the box backstage, Ify’s watch was dead, she wasn’t wearing one at all, and with her and Trapp on the outside podiums, there was no way she could ask him without making it look stunningly obvious. But it had been a while, for sure, and Sam wasn’t showing any of his usual signs of wanting to usher the recording session towards a natural conclusion.

If anything, he was looking wolfishly pleased with the way things were turning out. He'd even favoured Brian with a wider grin than usual, where Brian's own smile had been kind of watery.

Another part of that video, Siobhan couldn't help but recall, was that sinister, looming silhouette.

Through more and more loops, and the brief interludes they were granted backstage, they’d worked out the rules, sort of. People weren’t affected by the loops resetting, they carried through pretty much as normal. Objects didn’t, though. Things on the set, like the ducks, the money in their envelopes, and the spaghetti stuck to their podiums, reset to the state they were at at the beginning of what they’d begun to call “Loop 3.0”. Things brought across the threshold of the set, like Zac/Grant’s plate of spaghetti, or Josh’s balloons, reset as soon as they crossed over that boundary.

Josh hadn’t had a good time when he realised that one. While the contestant cast and the cameo cast were kept separate backstage, the contestants had to assume that Brian would have told them everything he’d worked out. The next loop after Brian had given his hint to Siobhan, the contestants had to watch a very good character actor try to keep control of the creepy clown role while going through a moderate existential crisis. It was uncomfortable to watch, stuck at their podiums and unable to help. At least they could mutter a few words of encouragement each time they went up to pop a balloon, and the same with Zac and Brian each time they came by to mess up or inspect their podiums.

It was good to have that connection, brief as it might have been. They might have been stuck, but at least they were in this fuckery together.

The crew, though, seemed to be immune from feeling the weirdness they were caught up in. Or—no. Not immune. Exempt. They weren’t trapped in the loop, they were part of it, moving along their set tracks like automata. It took the cast a while to work that one out, because Sam kept time perfectly, interacting with Ash when she brought out the contraption and the jar of beans as if they were having a normal, fluid conversation. But then Ify spotted that the camera operators were moving completely out of sync with the cast, and Trapp noticed that only Sam’s half of the interaction with Ash ever changed, and the illusion fell apart from there. The crew wouldn’t be a lifeline.

And speaking of Sam… Fuck, it was a hard one to swallow. He was their boss, their friend, and they’d all known him for years—hell, he’d come through for each of them multiple times. Until now, he had been pretty unequivocally a Good Guy. But it was becoming harder and harder to ignore the signs that Sam Reich was the puppeteer of this entire shitshow.

He was still pretending to not know what anyone meant when they expressed frustration with the loops, but the words were accompanied by a twinkle in his eye that said he knew exactly what was going on, and was staunchly refusing to help. He was delighting in their discomfort, even more so now the cast knew just how fucked they really were.

He looked like Sam, he sounded like Sam, every single mannerism was something that the cast knew intimately. But the personality driving his actions was wrong. Maybe this guy wasn’t Sam at all. Fuck, if they’d suddenly been catapulted into a reality where time loops were real, maybe so were evil clones, or brain-snatching parasites, or—no, the magician great-grandfather lore from Escape the Greenroom was still a stretch too far. But given the choice between believing that a weird sci-fi plotline was true, when another one was literally happening around them; or believing that their friend had secretly been some kind of torturer with access to sci-fi tech the entire time they’d known him—the decision wasn’t particularly hard.

“We have to stop him from kicking the camera,” Trapp said quietly, as soon as they had all huddled backstage. “That’s what he’s going with as the trigger.”

“It could be another bluff,” Siobhan interjected glumly. “More fucking misdirection.”

Trapp shot her a look. “You got anything better you want to try?”

“I can get between him and Kevin if I’m quick,” Ify volunteered, the tallest among them by a good half a head, with a build to match.

“See what happens,” Trapp said. “But be careful, yeah? Don’t get yourself hurt.”

“So what’s the way to get out?” Siobhan asked, as Ify nodded his agreement. “There has to be something, I might start killing people if I let myself think this is actually completely random.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “Popping the right balloon? Or winning the video game?”

“Or unlocking that,” Ify suggested, nodding to the green chest that had been sitting on the table the entire time.

“Yeah,” Siobhan and Trapp agreed together.

“Cool, so we try and—”

“Sorry, y’all, but I’m supposed to take your phones?” Kaylin interrupted, holding out the box as she always did.

By virtue of podium order, Trapp, then Ify, then Siobhan noticed it as they walked on and gave their introductions. Something had changed.

The point totals on the podiums read 14, 9, 14. The points they’d ended with in Loop 3, not started with. They’d survived it. Time was moving.

“Sam, look over there!” Siobhan exclaimed as she entered, and dragged a couple of boxes onstage with her in no more subtle a way than she did the last time.

Trapp got it, he really did. These loops had been… wearing, was probably the best word for it. “Sadistic” was a bit too harsh, particularly when nothing actually bad had been happening (and to be honest, he didn’t even want to risk thinking too badly of the person who seemed to be pulling all the strings in this scenario, in case he somehow noticed, and decided to turn the heat up), but… yeah. Wearing. So he understood why Siobhan might be trying to keep things the same. Making the group less fun for their host to play with.

The trivia rounds were chaos, as always, and passed in a jumble of noise that Trapp was only half focused on. A quiz show was still a quiz show, even if it had descended into some kind of weird time loop purgatory, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to be first on the buzzer regardless. Maybe the points were the way to get out of this whole shitshow, who could say. But when Ify and Siobhan started to have their exact same argument over the equation question, complete with Ify’s triumphant twerking, Trapp felt his stomach rise into his throat, as if once again, the ground had been cut out from under him.

“Yeah, Solzhenitsyn,” Siobhan nodded in response to a question he hadn’t asked, and his blood went cold.

Sam, or possibly ‘Sam’, looked him dead in the eye and winked.

“Next up, there’s a little game I have just for Mike Trapp,” he said with a smirk.

Tinny music started up, and the bright colours of that infuriating video game popped up on the screen, but Trapp didn't care. There wasn't any point in pretending now.

“You fucker,” he said, walking close to eyeball the host. “You mother fucker.”

‘Sam’ just wheezed with laughter, exactly as the real Sam Reich would when a contestant insulted him out of annoyance at the game, and for the briefest of moments, Trapp had his doubts. Everything about this man said Sam Reich, every tiny detail. Had he really been hiding this all along?

“You were doing great playing as a team,” ‘Sam’ said once he'd regained his composure, looking at Trapp with wide-eyed sincerity. “But that's not really the point of the game, now, is it?”

No. Sam, actual Sam, wouldn't do this to his friends.

“What have you done to them?”

“To them? Nothing,” whoever the fuck this was said brightly. “To the studio, though… Well, it would take too long to explain, and you wouldn’t understand most of it anyway. Let’s just say I can run this whole place like a VCR, and the only two people who wouldn’t be caught up in it right now are you and me, bud.”

“That’s fucked up,” Trapp said, as Ash, deaf and blind to their conversation, came out with the giant jar of beans. “That’s just fucked. Let them go.”

“Aw, but they’re probably having a better time than you are right now,” ‘Sam’ said, mock-serious. “They think time’s finally moving ahead for them, remember? And anyway, do you really want to be arguing with little old me when you’re wasting your one chance to earn points without any competition? It is an individual game, after all.”

Trapp’s eyebrows shot high. “Are you saying only one of us gets out of this? You sick fuck.”

‘Sam’ just shrugged and smiled, looking meaningfully at the empty podium. “Do you want to risk it? The choice is yours, Trapp, but time's a-ticking.” His smile flashed. “Or maybe it isn't.”

“Next up, there’s a little game I have just for Ify Nwadiwe,” ‘Sam’ announced.

Yeah, no shit. Ify wasn’t an idiot, even if his point total was sitting below his fellow contestants’. He’d been checking his not-actually-dead watch at the start of every loop, so he knew right from the off that even though their host had been gracious and let them pass through one gauntlet, it sure didn’t mean that the time fuckery had finished.

This run, though, was looking extra screwed up. Siobhan arguing loudly with him about things he didn’t even say this time was the final confirmation. He was alone in this loop, just him and the guy who was running the show.

He knew that ‘Sam’ knew that he knew that he was the only person who wasn’t stuck. So he waited, staring flatly at the person who had taken over the host’s podium, watching to see what move he would make.

‘Sam’ just smiled. “Left or right?”

Alright, so that’s how he was going to play it. Yeah, no, absolutely not.

“Nah, nah, nah,” Ify said instead of engaging, because it didn’t really matter. In his peripheral vision, the game kept scrolling through. “Fuck that. What’s the win condition? What do we need to do to get out of here?”

“Play the game,” ‘Sam’ replied.

“Shut the fuck up, man.” Ify shook his head, and ‘Sam’ chuckled like he’d told a good joke. “We’ve already done that, and it’s got us exactly fuckin nowhere. You put us in this thing for a reason, so there’s gotta be something you want to see happen.”

‘Sam’ blinked at him innocently. “Who says this isn’t exactly it?”

Ify took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. You’re saying we’re in here, doing the same shit over and over again, until you feel like you’ve had enough?”

“In a nutshell,” ‘Sam’ beamed, “yes.”

“Fuck you, man,” Ify said, shifting his weight to lean more heavily on the podium. “Fuck you.”

“Noted,” ‘Sam’ said brightly. “But I wouldn’t spend too long being mad at me, because—” he broke off, giving the front of Ify’s podium a significant look, “—you’ve got quite a lot of ground to make up, in… well. Who can say how much time?”

“Fuck you,” Ify repeated, and ‘Sam’ just laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Ify was taking too long to name a goddamn Keanu Reeves film, again, and Siobhan had had just about enough. So when he stalled, and stalled, and still came up with the same title he’d answered in the last round, grinning like he’d just got one over on her, she could have screamed.

And then she remembered where she was, and who was asking the questions, and her heart sank. They weren’t done yet, apparently, and this time she was completely on her own.

She playacted the rest of the argument, that and the equation question, and hated the fact that even to her own ears, she was sounding more and more shrill as she shouted, because yeah, it’s panic-inducing to continue a screaming match with someone who doesn’t even register that you’re there. Every word was another reminder that she was trapped.

And then the melodrama stopped, and ‘Sam’ smiled at her. “Next up, there’s a little game I have just—”

“—for Siobhan Thompson?” she finished with him, voice dripping with sarcastic surprise, just like she had in Loop 3.0.

“That’s right!” ‘Sam’ said happily. “Now. Left, or right?”

“No,” Siobhan said.

The man in front of her raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“You’re not Sam, which means I’m not fucking playing. So, who are you?”

“Sam Reich,” he answered quickly, easily, naturally.

Siobhan frowned. “No. Bullshit. Who are you?”

“Sam Reich,” he repeated, sounding somehow even more sincere, and genuinely confused that Siobhan would be asking. Fuck that. She wouldn’t take it. Couldn’t take it.

“No. Bullshit. Try again! Who the fuck are you?”

This time, instead of doubling down, he paused. “Do you want to know a secret?”

After a moment, she nodded warily. He beckoned her close, and slowly, cautiously, she left her podium, walking up to this devil in the shape of a game-show host. Close enough to see his eyes properly, and how truly, deeply old they were.

“Even if I told you,” he stage-whispered, those ancient eyes sparkling with terrible glee, “it wouldn’t make a single bit of difference.”

“Did you just—”

“Yeah. And—”

“Yeah.”

The three of them were once again huddled backstage, debriefing.

“So, are we allowed to do this?” Trapp asked quietly. “Because he seemed pretty against the idea of us working together.”

“Didn't say anything to me,” Ify shrugged. “And I don't see another way of getting out of this if we don't share stuff. And even then—sorry, but I think we're here til he wants to let us go.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Ify said. “Because we got the game, we got the key, we opened the chest, and here we all are again, so I dunno what we have to do. I asked him point blank about the win condition, and—”

“He made it sound like the points, to me,” Trapp interrupted.

Ify nodded. “Me too. But he also pretty much said we're here because he's having fun. I don't think the points are it.”

“So we can lose, but we can't win.” Siobhan's voice was dull.

“C'mon, Siobhan,” Trapp said encouragingly. “We'll get out of it. We've gotta have hope.”

Siobhan just looked flatly at him.

“Look, there are silver linings, okay?” Trapp insisted. “Not many, sure, but enough to look for. Like, because it means our actual friend isn't fucking with us—this guy isn't Sam, that's for sure.”

“I'm not…” Siobhan started, and winced. “This is going to sound bad. But I'm not even sure he's human.”

Ify exhaled deeply.

“Don't give me that,” Siobhan snapped reflexively, and Ify raised his hands placatingly.

“I'm not saying I don't agree,” he said. “It checks out. But it's heavy going, that's all.”

Siobhan nodded, looking calmer. “He still wouldn't say who he is, but… I saw him. The real him, up close. And yeah, he's the spitting image of Sam, but… fuck. People don't look like that behind the eyes.”

“Jesus,” Trapp breathed.

She just nodded wordlessly in reply, and despite knowing that it was costing them valuable discussing time, all three lapsed into silence. What could you say to that sort of revelation?

“The microphone,” Ify said abruptly, and Trapp and Siobhan’s eyes both swung to him. “I mean, I’ve still been thinking about win conditions. Or at least how he’s controlling the loop, and how we can use that.”

“He said he can run it like a VCR,” Trapp added. “But I’m not sure how, I assumed it was something in his podium—”

“But he keeps drawing attention to the microphone,” Ify continued. “Every single goddamn loop.”

“So we break it,” Siobhan said decisively.

Trapp made a face. “Or steal it?”

“Whatever. Either way, we get it out of his control.”

“Sorry, y’all,” came a familiar voice, and they all had to stifle a groan. Planning time was over.

The game started back up again, and—the point totals were as high as they remembered. The set was just as dirty. All promising signs.

And then their host’s eyes turned to Siobhan after Ify’s successful run at the video game, and her stomach clenched. Even though the time loop continuing was the worst possible scenario, departures from his routine were never a positive thing.

He gave her an indulgent look. “But, Siobhan.”

She was focused, she was prepared, she could handle whatever he threw at her. “Yes.”

“Because it is the last round of our game…”

Oh.

The buzzy little chiptune started up again, but to Siobhan, Trapp and Ify, it didn't mean a thing. The words “last round” rang in their ears sweeter than any music.

All of them knew it was probably false hope. Nonetheless, it was better than nothing. Something to cling to as they trod the motions of the remaining questions.

And then the cameo cast and all the crew came onstage when the wenis music played, and that certainly had a grand finale type feel to it; and Kevin didn’t get kicked in the face, no matter how much he was darting around in what had suddenly become a minefield of flailing limbs; and whatever it was that was wearing Sam Reich’s face led them all through more repetitions of the routine than usual, radiating manic joy the entire time.

“And stop!” he yelled as the music cut out, throwing his arms wide and looking around frantically as if the camera remaining intact had any fucking bearing on the time loop whatsoever. “Kevin, did we get that?”

The cameraman pulled open the now heavily duct-taped camera body, then looked up, scripted embarrassment mingling with scripted regret. “There’s no tape in the camera.”

And with that, their host turned away from him to look straight down the barrel of the main camera, favouring it with an open smile of pure, uncomplicated enjoyment; the sort of smile that invited you to share in it with him, no matter how strong the hatred that burned in your veins. “That brings us to the end of our show!” he announced happily. “Our winner tonight: Mike Trapp!”

“No-one’s a winner,” Trapp cut in, shaking his head. “No-one’s a winner here today.”

But even so, he was presented with a cool watch, and the confetti cannons went off, and they left the set for longer than two minutes and weren't called back at all, and finally, finally, they could let themselves believe it.

The loop was broken. They were free.

---

“What did I do?” Sam’s doppelganger repeated, pausing for a moment to think. “Oh, nothing awful.”

Normally, Sam would be content to let that slide. But just lately, he’d been getting a weird feeling from his doppelganger, and there was too much grey area between ‘something good’ and ‘nothing awful’ to be comfortable. “No, seriously.”

“We just ran the recording a few more times,” his double huffed, his smile fading—not quite impatient, but visibly put out, somehow, like he didn’t feel sufficiently appreciated. “Look at them, they’re fine.”

“I am looking at them,” Sam said. “And that’s why I’m asking. They’re my friends, I can tell when something isn’t right.”

His doppelganger hummed briefly, moving next to him to come and look at the monitor, and—just for a flash, less than a second—Sam felt the hair on the back of his neck rise when his double passed behind him.

“Maybe you're right,” he said slowly, after watching the feed for a few seconds. “Okay, I'll fix it. I'll have a chat to them.”

Sam exhaled, relief washing over him. Of course there wasn't anything to be worried about.

“Thanks,” he said.

His double just smiled faintly and nodded, then left the room.

Sam turned back to the monitor, waiting for the moment a minute or so later when his double would appear in the frame. And sure enough, he did. The sound setup was only piped in from the stage, and even then it wasn’t the best quality, so Sam didn’t have a chance of hearing what was actually being said. But he watched as, without exception, every single cast member flinched when his doppelganger touched them lightly on the shoulder to get their attention.

The conversations were quiet, with a gentle sort of intensity. His double seemed to be focused on making sure each person felt acknowledged—Sam couldn’t recall him breaking eye contact with anyone he was speaking to—and whatever he said, it seemed to work. One after another, he spoke to all the cast, contestants and cameos, leaving calm in his wake. And when he had talked to the last one, and everyone looked settled and genuinely at ease, he shot a look of pure satisfaction towards the backstage camera, and headed out of view.

“Thank you,” Sam said again when his doppelganger returned to their dressing room, and received a gracious nod in reply. “Just out of curiosity, though—what did you tell them? Because fuck, it worked like a charm!”

His double tilted his head, half-smiling. “Oh, you know. All the right things. That I was very sorry for anything that might have gone weird during the recording, that I wasn’t feeling like myself, that it’ll never happen again… Oh, yeah—and then I wiped their memories.”

Sam coughed. “You what?”

“Wiped their memories,” his double repeated matter-of-factly. “It was the simplest solution, really. Everyone stays in continuity, they’re blissfully free of any… more troubling memories, our cover isn’t blown—it’s perfect.”

“No, hang on, you can’t—”

“I can, and I did,” his doppelganger replied. “I fixed the problem—which you asked me to, I might add—and now everyone’s back to their regular happy selves. It’s a totally closed system. The only person who knows it happened at all is me. Oh, and you, of course.”

Sam frowned.

“Besides, this way, you don’t have to worry about having to work out the overtime for a time loop, because they’ve got no idea what the extra pay would even be for,” his double added breezily before he had a chance to say anything, then snapped serious. “And don’t look at me like that, Samuel Dalton Reich, because you were thinking about it. I know you.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t deny it. The tiny part of his mind that was always in Dropout CEO mode had been grappling with the ethical and financial implications of a time loop and getting nowhere, and the relief of not having to deal with it was like a fist unclenching.

“See?” his doppelganger said, meeting his eyes with a pointed sort of kindness. “I know what I’m doing, Sam, I’ve been doing it for a very long time. And it’s better for everyone like this.”

“I don’t—” Sam started, faltering. On the one hand, there was something intuitively and viscerally horrifying about his friends having their memories wiped. But on the other…

“If you don’t want to know,” his double said softly, and god, it gave Sam the shivers to hear his own voice used that way, “there is a way around it. I thought you’d rather be a part of everything that’s going on, but…”

His eyes caught and held on Sam’s like magnets, and—something had shifted behind them, something small, but with a seismic effect. He was pinned by that gaze, trapped, electrified; wholly unable to look away.

“I can do the same for you as I did for them.”

On the other hand… his double was right. It was kinder, probably, if they didn’t remember whatever they went through, and in that moment, he realised he couldn’t even begin to guess what that was. And… it was definitely easier.

“No,” he said, and when the word came out as a whisper, he cleared his throat and tried again. “No. It’s okay.”

His doppelganger blinked, and the spell was broken.

“Great!” he said brightly, back to his usual cheerful self, with all traces of that scary side—that dangerous side—folded neatly away. “You know, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you—you’ve been so much fun to work with, it would have been a shame to have it all come to nothing.”

And Sam, feeling like a marionette with its strings cut, hated the fact that he agreed. Even with everything that had happened lately, he couldn’t deny that the electricity that came from working with his doppelganger, the sizzle of pushing ideas just that bit past the boundaries and laughing uproariously at the result, was liberating. Exhilarating. Addictive, almost, a heart-racing excitement that sang in his blood.

Maybe the danger was part of the game. And as long as nobody came to any harm, he could keep playing.

“Just… promise me one thing, okay?” he started, and his double turned wide, patient eyes on him. “Promise me I won’t have to see anything like that again. There’s nothing we can do to change this now, but I can’t let it happen again, yeah? They’re my friends, and there’s a line.”

“Sure,” his doppelganger agreed. “You’re right. And I do like them, so—hm. I’ll treat them like I would my own friend.”

“Thanks,” Sam replied, finally letting the tension drain out of him. “That means a lot.”

His doppelganger just nodded in acknowledgement, then clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “C’mon. We’ve got more work to do.”

----- missed an installment of the sam reich!master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): you are here!

#sam reich!master #doctor who #dw #the master #game changer #dropout #sam reich #clari speaks #clari writes #turns out you can take the girlie out of the horror genre but you can't take the horror genre out of the girlie #not my fault time loops and memory wipes are inherently horrific #once again i include the disclaimer: mr sam reich sir if you see this i am so sorry but i have no regrets #game master

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susiekern · 9 days ago

Text

3. the one with the concert

warnings: swearing, alcohol, suggestive

word count: 1.825

masterlist

If anyone were to see you now, they’d assume you were high. But it was just the adrenaline coursing through your body as you first sit in the Uber and then wait at the gates. Thankfully, Yuji decides to match your vibe, so Nobara is left with the two of you, bouncing up and down, and Junpei, who could win an award for the most shy person ever. Or maybe he was just intimidated by Nobara? Who knows? Either way, you four must look hilarious, because when Maki shows up to let you into the “work” zone, she bursts out laughing.

“Does it count as harassment?” Hearing her question, Nobara pouts and leans on the green-haired girl dramatically.

“It hasn’t even started, and I already had enough.”

As pouty as she is, when you go into the venue and she sees how close to the stage tickets from Maki allowed you to get, she gets excited too. As a security manager, Maki gets tickets for each event, but it’s rare for her to actually use them, so she usually gives them to friends. And damn, VIP tickets for The Fallen? Four of these would probably cost a small fortune.

“I’ll see you guys after, but have fun! Y/n, don’t drool too much, I like our cleaning ladies.” Maki jokes before going through one of those “staff only” doors and leaving you to boil in excitement. Not too long after, the whole hall gets dark, marking the start of the concert.

When you hear the first notes of “The Fall”, lights turn on, illuminating four figures on the stage, and the crowd behind you erupts in cheers. For a moment you feel like a teenager again. It’s the same thrill every time, exactly like when your dad took you for your first live concert ever. And then this deep voice starts singing, bringing chills and goosebumps to your skin.

For the next hour, your eyes are stuck on a man in the middle. Something about him was just hypnotizing, even if you couldn’t see his face behind the black and gold mask. Maybe it was his voice alone, maybe a tall body dressed fully in black, maybe his fingers playing on the guitar like it was the sole reason for his existence. You’re not sure.

But something about Zenin makes you feel like a teenage fangirl seeing her idol for the first time, and you’re not even mad about it.

“I’m serious, guys, he could tell me to jump from a damn cliff, and I’d be happy to do so.”

Yuji, sitting next to you in a tight club booth, nearly dies choking on his beer. You were squeezed on the black leather couches, far enough from the dance floor to be able to talk and exchange thoughts about the concert, joined by a few other friends.

For you, it was a cloud nine. The Fallen was one of the bands you could listen to on repeat, which you often did, and your Spotify Wrapped was hard evidence. You’ve discovered them back when they’ve released their first single. There was something about their music that had you in a chokehold every time. The most impressive were their lyrics, so well thought through, hiding metaphors and little mysteries, and vocalists... The main vocal was deep and raspy, the kind that makes your whole body react to it. If it was possible to fall in love with just someone’s voice, you were down bad.

It was also the mystery thrill that intensified that feeling. The Fallen are four men, performing in modified oni masks, their identities hidden behind stage names. Zenin, Suga, Koki, and So. They never spoke on stage. The best fans got were a few videos of Zenin and Suga chuckling at something, but nothing else.

“I’m actually curious why they keep the hidden identities so hard, even outside of their shows. They had one rehearsal yesterday, but only after everyone left the building, only a few people from their team could stay.” Maki says, ripping you out of your thoughts.

“Maybe they’re all ugly and they worry about losing fans without proper face cards.” Nobara jokes. “Or they’re protecting themselves from female versions of Noritoshi.”

“Right, I’m going to the bar, please change the topic before I come back.” You sigh and get up. It takes you a few minutes to get through the crowd on the dance floor; Supernova is packed as always on the weekends. It’s one of the “fancier” clubs in town, high on the list of go-to places for people who want to loosen up after a stressful week. You finally get to the counter and place an empty beer bottle on it.

“No stalkers on your arm tonight?” A deep voice near your ear makes you jump a little, and you turn to see Megumi next to you.

“Funny you say that, but no.”

“Too bad, I was hoping for a full-time job as a bodyguard.” He snickers and leans a bit on the bar.

“Thought you were out of town?” You ask, changing the topic, but Fushiguro only shrugs and nods at the bartender, lifting your empty bottle.

“Got everything done faster than expected.”

“Well, you’ve missed a great concert, so your loss.” When the bartender sets two bottles on the counter, you don’t even have time to take your phone out of your pocket before Megumi gives him some cash.

“It’s on me.” He smirks at you, seeing your furrowed brows. “So, you enjoyed the show?”

“They could play at the dumpster using children’s toys, and I’d enjoy it.” This statement earns you a laugh. For the next minute or so, both of you just stand there in surprisingly comfortable silence, taking a few sips of beer and observing people. You also use that occasion to quickly eye him up, taking in a black t-shirt with a loose collar, ripped jeans in the same color, and his hair that’s ever messier than usual. He looked good, but when did he not?

“Didn’t know you were such a fan.” His words pull you back to earth, and you realize your hand tingled a little, tempted to brush back one black strand from his forehead that looked out of place even in this chaos. Scolding your own brain, you nod and pray he can’t see the blush that creeps on your cheeks. Hopefully, shitty club lighting was on your side. “What do you like the most?”

“Lyrics, I think. They’re well written, and it feels a bit like reading a book. They make you imagine the story, see it with your own eyes, if that makes sense.” His question took you by surprise, so it took you a minute to answer. You turn your head towards the dance floor to avoid his piercing gaze, which warms up more than just your cheeks. There’s also this insufferable smirk on his face that makes you want to scream with frustration. “And combined with Zenin’s voice… damn.”

“I’ve heard he writes all of their songs. But I prefer Koki. He seems cool with the white hair, don’t you think?”

You turn back to him and shake your head a little, meeting his gaze finally. In the dimmed lights of the club, his green eyes remind you of a deep forest. One you easily get lost in.

“I’m not into drummers.” You admit, barely noticing your own suggestive tone, that it seemed to challenge him a little.

“What are you into then?” He gets closer to you, which somehow doesn’t really bother you. Blame it on the alcohol, the two-and-a-half beers you’ve had. Yeah. Alcohol. You can also blame the fact that you get a little closer too.

“Guitarists. You know, I’ve heard they’re skilled with their fingers.” Your cheeks are on fire from your own words, but the way he glanced at your lips for just a second pushes that feeling to the back of your mind. Somewhere in the forest.

“Want me to show you?”

It’s Sunday evening, and you were slowly wrapping up the stream.

“What can I say? Sucks to suck.” You laugh when Yuji groans into his microphone.

For the last three hours, you’ve played a few different games, and every time he lost against you. It wasn’t really surprising, seeing how miserable he looked in the camera. You two talked before the stream a bit, and he admitted he had no idea how or when he got home from Supernova last night. One moment he’s at the bar, and Nobara orders a round of tequila; the next moment it’s 3 pm, and he’s hungover as fuck in his bed. You sighed with relief hearing this, because it means there’s no way he knows what happened at his apartment. And there was a list of things that took place. Not that you’re really proud of it.

“Easy to say when you’ve disappeared and left me with that tequila monster you call a friend.” The pink-haired man hides his face in his hands, peeking at his own chat through his fingers. “Don’t laugh at me, people! She betrayed me after ten years of friendship!”

“Nine.”

“Ah, fuck off.”

Still laughing, you stretch a little and pull your hoodie off. All of the equipment you needed to keep the stream running made the temperature in your room go higher than usual, and you were close to your melting point.

“Now, now, don’t cry, Ita. Promise I won’t leave you alone on the battlefield next time.” You coo at your friend and lean a bit closer to the desk to read the messages.

yusshi: understandable, tequila is a no-no.

[…]

trackstar32: OH miss y/n

lan2137: if that’s why you left Yuji alone, I understand

zeyde_: holy guacamoly

viviaaan: Alexa, play Careless Whisper.

“What are you all on about?” Furrowing your brows, you follow the chat.

“Yooo, bro, what is that?” Yuji leans closer to his screen, his eyes focused on your video call. Suddenly he opens his mouth and looks like he’s connecting the dots in his head. At the same time, you finally notice what your chat was talking about. Hickeys. Starting at your throat and trailing down to disappear under the hem of your shirt. “Octopus got to you or—” You can actually see his eyes fall down to the shirt itself, and you swear, there’s a lightbulb over his head. A curse falls from your lips when you remember you’re still wearing the shirt you stole from Megumi’s chair this morning. And judging by the look on his face, Yuji recognized it. Damn roommates.

“Alright! I think that’s enough for today. I’ll talk to you later, Ita.” Not waiting for a response, you end the call and go through your normal ending for the stream. A few minutes later, you turn everything off and grab your phone, immediately seeing a message on the group chat.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Damn roommates.

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picturejasper20 · 6 months ago

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Let's talk about Sam's parents and their relationship with Sam because, just wow, it gives quite a lot of context to Sam's character. I'm going to analyse the episode ¨Control Freaks¨ since that is the episode we get to see the most of Sam's family and her relationship with them.

Okay, so, at the start of the episode we have Pam suggesting to Sam to wear a different type of dress- one that is pink with flowers- that resembles the way Pam and Jeremy usually look. They both have more colorful clothes and are more chirpy.

There doesn't seem to be any exactly harmful in this scene- it is Pam just suggesting to Sam to wear something different, she isn't exactly ordering her. However, based on other things they do later in the episode, it wouldn't surprise me that they ¨force¨ these things on Sam, from things she should like to her fashion. Meaning we are already seeing some... questionable aspects of the Mansons parenting.

Danny later shows up in the Manson's house bringing a ¨anti-social¨ music cassette/CD for Sam and Pam and Jeremy look at Danny this way.

Throughout the episode they show their clear disapproval of Danny hanging out with Sam. They see Danny as a ¨bad influence¨ to their own daughter even though is Sam the one who suggested to skip school to see the circus.

They clearly don't like the Fentons, something i can't fully blame them because Jack and Maddie can leave a mess wherever they go to and usually end up shooting the Mansons when they are nearby. But just because they dislike the Fentons, they don't want Sam to be meeting with Danny, not caring how that makes Sam feel.

Like i want to believe this part of the series humor but they go so far to filling a restraining order for Danny to not get near Sam. Just trying to impose certain fashion and likes on Sam wasn't enough, they want to control who she can and can't meet up with.

If they weren't giving wrong vibes already, then lets talk about that ¨anti-goth protest¨ they organized in front of the circus to ¨protect the children¨ that shows up during most of the episode.

I don't know, but they give me the impression of those parents that would try to censor certain type of music or videogames because they are ¨ruining¨ the children. And from what it is implied, this isn't the first time they have organized these type of protests, so it could be assumed they could have done more extreme things in the past.

Honestly, i'm not sure how Pam and Jeremy turned out like this, because Ida is a lot nicer and open minded than they are. In fact, at some point of the episode she shows Sam that she was like her when she was around her age and lets her sneak out to look for Danny.

On last point, one thing i found quite messed up is how at the end of the episode they force Sam to wear that pink dress that Pam suggested her at the start with the condition that she could see Danny again if she did.

Things like these makes me wonder if they usually impose Sam to act and be feminine since she acts differently in contrast to how other girls of her age usually do. There isn't much indication of this, but based on what i have seen so far, i wouldn't rule it out.

Now, look, in spite of everything i'm not sure if i would call Sam's parents downright abusive- they were right about getting mad at Sam for skipping school among other things- but they still come off as controlling and they take things to the extreme. It isn't right for them to forbid Sam for meeting with some of the few friends she has nor force on her how identity and likes should be.

Sam has a lot of issues as character for not changing and having a proper arc, but i can't fully blame her for the way she often acts in the show because, with her parents being like this, i can understand why she would hate authority or show a dislike ¨girl stuff¨. Honestly, i'm surprised that she is okay as a person, since she could turned out a lot worse.

#danny phantom #sam manson #pam manson #Jeremy manson #Ida manson #danny fenton

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dogsosoy · 4 months ago

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i am thinking about stalking aki. no devils au also (gn)reader is an obsessive freakkk and loser ; things get a little physically violent ^__^

as per usual, you were following the local grocery store clerk home after his shift.

he was a pretty unassuming guy, despite his height, but something about him was different from all the other NPCs you had to encounter in your shitty city.

a few weeks ago, for the first time in your life, someone wasn’t outright disgusted with your presence. on top of that, that person was downright gorgeous too. exactly your type. a lot like the guys you went for in your dating sims: tall, long hair, and an unbothered attitude. aki had an air about him that screamed “i don’t really care,” which made you weak in the knees. you were shaking when you approached his checkout line.

you expected him to be like everyone else. throw you a hardly-concealed glare and make your interaction as swift as possible. you’ve never been that great with social interaction. or social cues. but somehow, in your delusional mind, you believed that you were quite charming the day you met aki.

he had initially caught you off guard. aki recognized the game on your shirt, and commented on it as he was checking out (and trying hard not to judge) your groceries (seriously, when was the last time you ate a meal that wasn’t full of MSG?). immediately getting even more flustered and nervous than you already were, you told him a fun fact about the game—that only you found fun—and flashed him an awkward, stressed out smile. more fearful looking than anything. more animalistic than human.

but he smiled back, so clearly that meant you did a good job, right? you surely impressed him with your knowledge and the submissive air about you! he must’ve thought you were charming in a “kicked dog” sort of way.

aki totally wasn’t thinking ‘will this quivering little freak get out of my line already?’ eyeing your shaky hands and figure. you were most definitely overstaying your welcome in the check-out area to stutter at this poor clerk. at least he’s good at staying composed. most of the time.

overall, he was disgusted by you. you looked like you got hit by a bus two weeks ago and hadn’t showered since. your clothes were dirty and way too big, like a child trying on something from their parent’s closet. you had a minecraft wallet that would’ve been a cute little trait if you weren’t so fucking off-putting. your hair was in your eyes. probably to hide your face, he thought. you don’t seem to like being perceived.

aki had a lot of thoughts about you in that moment—some of them more intrusive than others. he thought about scowling at you, yelling at you to move along, maybe shoving your shitty groceries into your hands so you’d get the idea that he really didn’t like your vibe. or face. or anything about you. then, aki thought about strangling you. you just had a face for it. you looked easy to beat up and aki kind of liked that. it crossed his mind that maybe he could kick the shit out of you after his shift. get some anger out. hell, he could’ve taken five and done it right then.

you know, normal minimum wage job thoughts.

but of course, he didn’t do any of that. didn’t even really entertain the thought (although he really would’ve liked to). at his core, aki isn’t a bad person. he’s not the best, don’t get him wrong, but he wouldn’t harm a random person he doesn’t know. even if that person was giving him a million reasons to, just by existing. even if they look like they would make such a good punching bag. or stress ball. or chew toy?

aki doesn’t necessarily enjoy hurting people. he’ll admit, he does find some sort of sick satisfaction in it, but it’s not something he actively seeks out. or even something that regularly crosses his mind. aki is reliable and intelligent. that’s what anyone you ask would say about him. sure, maybe he’s a hardass most of the time, but he really does seem to have a thing for helping others.

he looked at you, really looked at you, his eyes filled with pity as you were turning to walk out of the store. he imagined what it would be like to have everyone you come across have these sorts of thoughts about you. how could you live your life normally when everything about you invokes violent and anger in the people around you?

it was pathetic. he thought you were pathetic.

maybe he could help you.

your eyes caught his only for a moment as you cautiously glanced back at him, trying to sneak in one more glimpse at this angel before you went home, not to return for weeks. then you saw it. you saw that look. something in his eyes, but it wasn’t anger or annoyance or disgust. your face heated up, and your eyes widened with how flustered you felt. your palms suddenly felt sweaty, and it was too hot. for once, someone looked at you and felt something more for you, and it felt like a fire was lit inside your chest.

this man… (squints to read name tag) aki… he was different.

and aki knew from that split second that you were definitely a total hopeless case and complete freak.

your obsession with him snowballed from there.

you followed behind him after every shift, making sure to stay hidden from the light and as far away as possible. you just wanted to make sure the love of your life got home safe! plus, it wasn’t hard to keep an eye on him. maybe keeping up with him was a little difficult due to the height difference, but good thing you’re amazing at masking your presence! thank you, fear of being perceived.

even from this distance, your heart was in your throat. you could barely make out the way his shoulders moved as he walked, or how he lazily puffed on a cigarette (mevius brand, your brain supplied). it was still enough to get you panting like a freaky little creep. your whole body was on fire. the physical reaction you had to aki was apparent, and it had only gotten worse by the day. during your first interaction, you were a complete mess. now? you’d be lucky to get a single word out if he was any closer than twenty feet, and your legs would surely give out from the anxiety. it would be like meeting god.

aki had decided earlier, during his shift, that he had had enough of this game of cat and mouse.

of course he could feel the eyes on his back during his walk to his apartment. although you think you’re quite slick and sneaky, aki has known since the first day you followed him home. you may be quiet, but your hiding skills are a bit rusty. on top of that, aki trained in the police force. he knows when someone is tailing him. he had to hand it to you though, it took him longer than normal to notice you.

every day you got a bit closer—he had picked up on that by the fifth night. he picked up on you breaking into his apartment by the second week, which irked him. not because he necessarily cared about you stealing his stuff—he didn’t have much of value anyway—he just didn’t want your dirty hands touching everything. he started cleaning more after that.

then slowly he started… leaving things out for you. like someone leaving milk out for a stray cat. a half eaten bar of chocolate on his kitchen counter, an old shirt on his bed. things he thought you’d think he wouldn’t miss. he left some healthier food out too, with a few bites taken out of it, so you’d think he was done eating and take it for yourself.

he wondered if it felt like sharing a meal to you, too.

he had caught a glimpse of you in a shop window as he turned the corner onto his street. you were wearing his shirt. he never saw you without one of his shirts on, not since you started stealing them.

instead of continuing all the way to his apartment, aki stopped short and took a quick right to duck into a nearby alleyway.

your heart sped up. what was he doing? was he meeting with someone else? going to someone else’s place? maybe just taking a leak? despite your worryingly amazing stalking skills, you lacked a lot of… basic intellect. street smarts.

common sense.

you approached the alley cautiously, peering in. no sign of aki. your heart sunk, had you lost him? your foot steps rang out in quiet thuds on the concrete. your thoughts were running a mile a minute.

aki thinks you should be more aware of your surroundings. it becomes another bullet on his mental list of things you need to work on. this list is uncomfortably long.

you pass by an unassuming dumpster, not looking at or even near it. it didn’t cross your mind that the object of your deepest desire could be crouched beside it. why would he be? why would he be staring at you? why would he be getting ready to pounce on you, like a predator on prey?

the moment you had just barely cleared the threshold into his vision, aki pounced.

your back hit the concrete wall before you could even grasp what could be happening. the smell of cigarette smoke flooded your sinuses. someone’s forearm was pressed to your neck—their hand carefully balancing a mevius cigarette between two fingers—affectively holding your weaker body in place and somewhat choking you. your voice cried out in a pathetic yelp, which caused another large hand to be placed rather roughly over your mouth. he didn’t want you to make any unnecessary noise. or, god forbid, any dumb comments.

his figure was even more imposing at this distance—or lack there of. fuck, is he going to kill you? beat the shit out of you? why is that thought kinda hot? your heart was beating so fast you felt like you were going to have a heart attack. aki, ever composed, casually leaned over your trembling body, looking deep into your scared eyes with his intense gaze. he was so calm, but he was also scary. imposing. like a parent looking down at a child who has misbehaved. your knees felt weak.

you have misbehaved.

his face was inches from yours as he spoke softly, condescendingly, “i would say you’re dumber than you look but,” his eyes raked over your figure slowly, rolling the cigarette between his fingers. he removed his forearm from your neck and took a drag and blew the smoke into your face as he continued, “you’re not.”

quick note: having a hand over your mouth, somewhat covering your nose, smoke blown into your face, and having previously been choked by a forearm to the neck does NOT pair amazingly with what was likely an incoming panic attack. or maybe it was a meltdown. aki didn’t think you could tremble this much. widen your eyes this much. make him feel so in control this much. he would’ve rather thrown out his brand new pack of meviuses than admit that you have such a way of making him feel. he continued rolling his cigarette between his fingers, staring at your face, thinking. then he backed off a little. looked down his nose at you.

his gaze was filled with disgust… and an impossible amount of want. want for you. to own you. control you. maybe he just wanted to have some sort of control over anything in his life. unfortunately, you didn’t have a whole lot of time to react to this sudden realization about aki, as you cried out, muffled by his palm. the bastard had put his cigarette out on your neck.

“don’t worry,” he spoke softly, in an ever condescending tone, “you’ll probably still be able to walk when i’m done.”

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licorice-tea · 9 months ago

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Would you ever so kindly write 10.Kaku + O. Kabedon? Have it so bad for this giraffe man <3 uhh,, he's so old fashioned and precious. Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you vibes, for real

Let Me Prove Myself

Pairing: Kaku x reader

Content: kaku is just a little suspicious, and a little intimidating kind of? but in a hot way. kaku calls the reader pretty and lovely, gender nuetral pronouns for reader, strawhat reader, kabedon ofc!

Word Count: 1k

A/N: quite literally wrote this between 4 and 5 am, so i apologize for anything that doesn’t make sense or sounds off😓but anyway i am such a kaku lover omg that’s literally my man (one of them), ty for the request <3

Some of your crew mates went to find someone who could fix your ship, the Going Merry, while others were off exploring the city. You had opted to venture off on your own, wanting to enjoy the scenery and culture of this grand island with fewer distractions that usual.

Navigating through the streets with no destination in mind, you end up in a sort of alleyway. It leads you out closer to the shoreline, and provides you with a picturesque view of some of the lower levels of the city accompanied by slow rolling ocean waves.

“So pretty,” you mumble to nobody in particular.

“Sure is.”

Your head nearly whips around to find the source of the voice. Were you being followed this entire time? Though you’d been under the impression that the people of Water 7 took kindly to most pirates, that didn’t mean there weren’t other sinister forces within the city… Perhaps should’ve been more careful, or stayed on the boat with Zoro.

Alas, you don’t see anyone in the direction from which you came, so you turn back slowly. Maybe you were imagining things.

You gasp and step back when you’re met face to face with a man who definitely hadn’t been there before. He’s tall, and has an unusually long and squarish nose. “It fits him, though.” you think. In fact, he’s a really attractive guy. But you can’t allow that to overpower your common sense, nor let your guard down. You make a mental note to not, under any circumstances, let your attraction get the better of you.

He takes your silence as an opportunity to explain himself. “I don’t mean to frighten you,” he steps closer as you take another step back, “you're not from around here, are you?”

“No… I’m not.” You raise your chin and cross your arms over your chest. “Were you following me?”

He laughs. “Well, when you put it like that it makes me sound like a bad guy.”

“Well I wouldn’t know what kind of guy you are, stranger.” Go

“Kaku,” he extends his hand, “and what’s your name if you don’t mind my asking?”

Ever so cautiously, you take his hand and shake it once. “Y/n.”

“Y/n. That’s lovely.”

“Um… thanks.”

Taking notice of your squared shoulders and general uncomfortable energy, Kaku takes another step toward you. Naturally you take another step backward, but you don’t realize you’re standing right in front of one of the walls of the alleyway you’d come out of until it hits your back. You inhale sharply.

“I have no ill intentions, y/n, I can assure you. I just…” he looks you up and down, not trying to hide his wandering eyes in the slightest. “Well, I’d never seen you around before and found myself eager to meet you. You’re awful pretty, y’know.”

The feeling seems to be mutual, but you intend to bury your own even deeper. “I- um-“

“So, are you by chance a pirate?”

Your eyes grow wider and you silently shake your head “no.”

Kaku chuckles and nonchalantly places a hand on the wall behind you. The other goes to his hip as he leans over you. You’re unsure if he’s trying to block off one of your two escape routes to either side, or is this is his attempt at charming you. “You don’t have to lie, y/n, I’m no bounty hunter. Nor a pirate hunter like your crew mate, Zoro.”

“You know Zoro?”

“Sure do. I inspected you all’s ship just a few minutes ago while he was there keeping watch. He was wary of me at first, and rightfully so considering we’d never met, but he seems like a swell guy.”

A relieved exhale visibly leaves your chest as your shoulders drop slightly. The fact that he knows one of your crew, and hasn’t talked ill of him, brings you some comfort.

“But that’s not important right now. I’m here to talk about you.”

“What about me?”

“Whatever you’re willing to tell me. I want to get to know you. I’m very interested, if I’m not making it obvious enough.”

You nearly giggle, but contain your laughter behind a smile. “No, you are.”

Feeling emboldened by your shy smile, Kaku removed his other hand from his hip and places it on the wall behind you. You glance to your side at it, and he walks forward into the half step that remains between your two bodies, bending his arms so that his forearms are entirely against the wall instead of his hands alone. Kabedon.

And when you turn forward again, you’re barely an inch away from his face. Or his nose, rather.

He speaks softly, but in the same old fashioned and all too-proper tone. “Have you ever been with a shipwright, y/n?”

You shake your head “no” again.

“Would you like to be?”

“Oh, well… my- my crew is probably only going to be here a few days, so…”

“Ah… so if the circumstances were different?”

“I might say yes.”

“Mhm… You see, I don’t mind these circumstances one bit. Are they a deal breaker for you?”

“I guess not.” You bite your lip with nervous excitement.

“Good.” He flashes you a bright smile and steps back a respectable distance.

Though you don’t mean to, your disappointment shows in your features.

Kaku notices- he seems to notice a lot about you- and chuckles. “Were you expecting something more just then?”

Truthfully, you were. If he had kissed you, you would have welcomed it with open arms (and lips.) You don’t say any of that though, just laugh awkwardly as your face heats up.

“I’m a gentleman, y/n. It’d be sleazy to try anything with you when we’ve only just met.”

“Oh,” you nod, finding his constitution respectable despite wishing he had been sleazy enough to try something, “right…”

“How about you let me take you out to an early dinner? I’d like to prove myself first.”

“What do you need to prove yourself to be worthy of?”

“You.”

You smile as Kaku offers you his arm, and your initial resolution to not let your guard down around him is almost entirely forgotten as you take it.

#kaku x reader #op kaku #kaku #kaku one piece #fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #straw hat reader #my man my man my man #galley la #kabedon #drabble #oneshot

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sharkboywrites · 1 year ago

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Hi, could I make a request for Ace, Leona, and Deuce (or just Leona tbh) with a gn or male mc? Tl;Dr: He tries to impress mc, but somehow does something super cringe worthy and messes up the vibe. Here's a more detailed explanation below, also so sorry if this doesn't make sense/is super long, I'm high and the idea came to me in a prophecy. Hope you're havin' a good night/day :)

He does something to try and impress mc and be romantic/cute. But what they do is actually super cringey to the point where it gives mc secondhand embarrassment. they're trying to be nice about it bc they love their bf, but it's super obvious that they're cringing and it's super awkward and funny (for literally everyone else). And maybe it ends with them laughing about it or something, but the idea just popped into my head and I thought it was funny.

A/n: omg I love this request. I really love Ace and Deuce they’re honestly some of my favorites (although I can’t really pick favorites). Also first writing from my phone because I can’t use my computer rn.

Ace, Deuce, and Leona x male reader, characters do embarrassing things trying to impress their boyfriend, reader is yuu

Ace Trapola

- If there’s anything Ace loves other than you, it’s basket ball

- It makes him feel confident and like he’s the coolest guy on the planet

- And so does his boyfriend. So what amazing idea does he come up with?

- Well why not combine both?

- And that’s how you go invited to one of his games

- In his mind, this is perfect, a basketball game with his amazing boyfriend cheering him on from the sidelines, what could be more perfect?

- Or that’s how he sees it…

- He’s not doing… great per say

- In reality he’s missing passes, Bradley able to catch a pass himself, and the sneaker squeaking is starting to drive you crazy

- But you sit there really, really, trying to be supportive

- The final straw is when he takes a shot and instead of going into the basket, it comes right back at him and hits him directly in the face

- Of course you run up to him and make sure he’s okay

- But once he confirms he’s fine, you can’t help but burst into laughter

- It takes you a minute to calm down and when you do Ace is all pouty

- He’ll be mad at you for a bit but he gets over it eventually

- And once he does he admits that yeah, he was doing pretty bad

- It’s now an inside joke between the two of you, you bring it up any time you can

Deuce Spade

- Deuce’s magic is… interesting

- He can summon massive things and personally thinks that it’s really impressive

- But really, it’s only useful in certain situation and when he can actually summon something on purpose

- He thinks that it would be so impressive to use his magic in potions to help you out

- The way he imagines it, you can’t use magic and you’ll be so impressed by his abilities that you’ll thank him by showering him with affection

- Let a man dream, okay?

- What actually happens is a disaster

- He ends up summoning the usual cauldron, which makes a mess of the project the two of you were working on

- You really did try to tell him it was okay, but on the inside it feels like you’re dying

- The both of you end up having to clean the mess and have to start the project over

- The two of you bud up in his room at the end of the day, him with his face in his hands and you doing your best to comfort him just because he’s so embarrassed

- But hey, he did get that affection he wanted in the end so to him, it’s a win

Leona Kingscholar

- Leona doesn’t usually get up and do much

- As you’re definitely aware, Leona’s favorite activity is napping, especially with you

- But when spelldrive practice came up, he couldn’t waste an opportunity to show off how cool he was to his boyfriend

- And guess what? He invited you to join in with practice

- Great…

- It’s not that you don’t enjoy spending time with Leona it’s just that… you’re not very good at this sport, especially with no magic

- Everyone tried to help you out but it was clear that you were just there because Leona wanted you there

- And during practice, you had a repeat of what happened in this first spelldrive

- Frisbee to the head again

- Listen Leona didn’t know his magic was gonna go haywire and hit you

- He’s quickly by your side, making sure you’re okay

- When you finally get your bearings, thankfully not getting knocked out this time, you can’t help but start laughing

- You don’t think you’ve ever seen Leona’s face get redder

- After that practice gets called off and Leona drags you off to his room

- You’re forced to lay there for however long Leona decides to keep you

- in his words this was your “punishment for embarrassing him”

- In reality, he felt bad for hurting you, but he wouldn’t admit it because he’s all grumpy

- So you lay there, petting his hair as he hugs you close, and also with an ice pack on your currently bruising forehead

I honestly had so much fun with writing this. Writing these three characters are honestly so fun. Currently trying to get as many requests as I can done because I’m definitely running behind on these, sorry. Ty for reading and have a great day

#male reader #sharkboywrites #mlm #mlm blog #twst #twst x male reader #twst x reader #twst fanfic #leona x reader #leona x male reader #leona kingscholar x reader #ace x reader #ace x male reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola x male reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader #deuce x male reader

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idleminds · 1 month ago

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this season jdrama first impressions?

Are these the same anon? I’m so sorry for taking so long to reply. I got few things going on, so I needed some time to collect my thoughts. Hope you don’t mind. Anyway, to answer your questions:

- Ano Kuzu wo Nagutte Yaritainda: Kind of average and tbh I’m a bit tired of the bad guy with traumatic past trope.

- Danchi no Futari: Instant favorite, my drama of the year. Matsumoto Kana and Kobayashi Satomi combo is always a win for me (still hoping Cote d’Azur No. 10 will get subbed someday eventually). That, plus the slice-of-life genre, I just knew I’d love it and I was right. Cozy, endearing, light-hearted. I could watch it forever.

- Hokago Karte: Three eps in and I'm still not sure how I feel about this drama. Contrived in a subtle way, but definitely has its charms.

- Lion no Kakurega: Well-paced, captivating, and visually appealing. Amazing performance by all involved, especially Bando Ryota.

- Mirai no Watashi ni Bukka Masareru!?: Feels cheap with weak plot. I’m having a hard time enjoying it.

- Monster: The first two eps were very straightforward and we have yet to learn about the FL’s backstory, so I’m looking forward to that.

- Muno no Taka: hilarious, very campy.

- My Diary: The first ep was a bit dull but it has potential.

- Octo S02: Slightly better writing than the previous one. Wish they didn’t add unnecessary characters though.

- Okura: Idk this show is just weird so far. The writing and character dynamics feel forced. Not sure it’ll get better.

- Sennyu Kyodai: Another one of NTV crime thriller dramas with low production values, lousy writing, and exaggerated acting. I have nothing against the actress who plays the younger sister, actually haven't seen much of her work, but her acting is terrible in this. Well, that could also be because of the bad script.

- Sora Wataru Kyoshitsu: Sincere, heartwarming, poignant. And somehow geeky with all the science stuff.

- Sorezore no Kodoku no Gurume: Any new project of KodoGuru is always welcome. 😆 A nice change of pace, since we get a fairly different format from usual. Also can’t wait for the movie next year! The trailer looks exciting!

- Tengu no Daidokoro S02: Just as calming and aesthetically pleasing as the first season.

- Umi ni Nemuru Diamond: Superb production quality with stellar cast. The first ep wasn’t too impressive to me, although the set-up was promising. In Nogi Akiko I trust.

- Usotoki Rhetoric: Such a fun drama with a dynamic duo. Love the Showa vibe and peculiar cases.

- Wakakusa Monogatari: Very watchable. Need more sister bonding moments though.

- Zen Ryoiki Ijo Kaiketsu Shitsu: Love the way supernatural elements incorporated into the story. It gives the show an edge.

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oneatlatime · 1 year ago

Text

The Tales of Ba Sing Se PART 2

The Tale of Zuko

Maybe I should make a Zuko's Stupid Faces post.

Zuko and Iroh's whole dynamic in one frame.

This girl is cute. Total girl next door type. She does have fairly horrible taste in men, but she's also very cute.

I just want to take a minute to point out a VERY important distinction. Zuko is not going out on a date. Zuko is not taking a girl out on a date. A girl is taking Zuko out on a date. She's got that arm in a death grip. Not only is that a clever reversal of the usual hetero dynamic, but I'm convinced it's the only way Zuko would ever get any action, so it's also in character.

I know Zuko's social skills are non-existent, but apart from the blow up at the waiter he is actually trying. He's failing, but I have to give him points for trying.

The way this girl's voice actress says "You juggled" made my ears very happy. And the beleaguered "yes. I juggled." is equally good.

Zuko! Tell her you did sword stuff! That's something you can actually do!

It gives me hope that someone so steeped in the most toxic parts of the Fire Nation, for so long, can STILL be so bad at lying, but it would certainly be a handy skill right about now.

I take it back. This girl does have good taste in men. Zuko's such a softie when it counts. He still sucks at being normal, but he just risked his identity because the girl he didn't even plan to go out with was a little bit sad.

This girl is the best.

Ha! He kissed her back! He Did! I saw that!

I take back what I took back. Zuko's evil again. He made my new favourite girl droop.

I love that Iroh's waiting up for him while making it look like he isn't waiting up for him. How many times on their ship, when Zuko was out Blue Spiriting, do you think Iroh found a reason to be randomly sat on the deck at 3 am?

Character development baby! Can you really call yourself loyal to the fire nation if you admit to having a good time on a date with an Earth Kingdom girl?

The Tale of Momo

Pretty.

That was a FILTHY bait and switch. For one shining moment, I had Appa back.

They should take that to June.

Not Appa.

Also not Appa.

I did not have 'Momo gets gaslit' on my Avatar Bingo card. Nor did I have 'interspecies animal friendship angst.'

Are these cat things the raccoons of the Avatar universe? Or the squirrels? Urban scroungers?

I love the idea that this guy just grabs the closest squirrel, sticks a hat on it, and expects it to dance. He got lucky with Momo.

I thought they were taking the animals to the pound, but this is very much a butcher. Which means that in Ba Sing Se, they eat varmint. Stay away from the hot dog carts.

That's very effective Simglish.

Thank god for thumbs.

Aw they're friends! This has Aristocats vibes, when O'Malley and the girl cat are getting together near the end.

And one final Fuck You, because god forbid Momo's tale ends on a happy note.

I'm guessing that's an Appa print, but couldn't it also be a platypus bear?

Something about the cats standing vigil over Momo's grief gets to me.

Final thoughts

I'll go through each of these stories individually, but first some general comments.

Last episode was kind of intense, and definitely ended on a downer (not that this one didn't), so it was a good call to at least start this episode off on something a bit gentler.

I was really impressed with the soundtrack throughout. Apart from the Tale of Momo where it's the animal noises that are front and centre, the music is doing a lot of work in every story, the strings especially. The strings are doing emotional work, plot stuff, and even humour. Seriously, next time you rewatch this episode, pay attention to the strings. These shorts are actually very light on dialogue (apart from Sokka's), but they don't feel that way because the music is doing the talking.

I'm assuming that this all took place over three days at least, since Iroh, Zuko, and Momo's tales seem to end on different evenings. So I don't think calling this episode 'day in the life' is accurate. My bad. It also occurs to me that this kind of episode format would be a great way of showing time has passed. If they had had an episode like this in the Northern Water Tribe - after Katara beat the crap out of Poophead but before the Fire Nation attacked - I would have liked the pacing of the whole finale arc better.

On to the stories!

The Tale of Toph and Katara

It might be because I didn't understand what this episode was doing yet, but this one didn't do much for me. It was good to see Toph have a moment of self-doubt, but I never would have assumed, based on her previous behaviour, that her appearance was her proverbial weak spot. Katara did a really good job at building her back up, and she was delightfully (and appropriately) understated for once. When she's reassuring Aang of something (especially in Season 1) Katara tends to got from 0 to 60 very quickly, so it was nice to see her be reassuring in a quiet, non-steamrolling way. Is this Katara character development? Apart from the fact that Toph quite literally got her eyeballs sanded, nothing much in this episode stuck out to me. Except those bitchy voices. Those were like knives in my brain.

The Tale of Iroh

So many questions! Is Lu Ten buried in Ba Sing Se? How is that grave not defaced yet? How did Iroh get a copy of his son's picture? They lost everything at the North Pole, right? Did he ask the people who got him their passports for a picture of his son too? Does Zuko know/remember that it's his cousin's birthday? If so, why isn't he there offering Iroh the world's most awkward hug? Given the fact that Iroh spent the whole day helping people, including a very misguided youth, and given that Iroh says something along the lines of "if only I could have helped you [his son]" does this imply that Lu Ten was going through a crisis at the time of his death? Was he misguided like the wannabe mugger? Is Zuko not the first Fire Nation Prince that Iroh has had to guide through an identity/existential crisis? Is Zuko going to be the first time Iroh succeeds at guiding a Fire Nation prince through an identity/existential crisis? Does Iroh live in perpetual fear of failing Zuko the way he seems to believe he failed his son? Am I reading too much into this?

To be quite honest, this story would have hit me harder if I had remembered going into it that Iroh had a son. Lu Ten takes being a textual ghost to a whole new level. Also the 'In honor of Mako' text confused me. And worried me a little.

The Tale of Aang

I liked this one! Aang can't help Appa at the moment, but he can help all the Appa stand ins who aren't fortunate enough to have an Aang to help them. Aang is a nice little boy! Of course he'd free a bunch of animals without thinking about the consequences and the epic pile of platypus bear dung he's just landed the zookeeper in with the Dai Li. I liked the animal designs. I liked the earthbending. I liked the Siamese cat representation. I loved cabbage man. I think that, if Appa could have known, he would have approved. I also think that I'm once again reading too much into this. it was nominally a fun fluff piece elaborating on a established emotional conflict (Appa missing), which gave it just enough weight to be slightly more than a fluff piece.

The Tale of Sokka

I am entirely serious when I say that 'poetry bouncer' is my favourite joke so far in the WHOLE show. I love absurdity played entirely earnestly. It's fridge funny too. The longer I contemplate the implications, the funnier it gets. What past event required a poetry bouncer be introduced? He's not there to protect the students or the teacher; he's here to reinforce the structure of the Haiku by force. Was he hired by the concept of Haiku? Is Haiku taken so seriously in Ba Sing Se that he's needed to break up cat fights between students? There is a rich well of haiku-related hijinks just hinted at by his presence, and I want to know more.

Sokka is so often his own worst enemy that it makes sense that he's taken out by his own hubris. That fortune teller lady was absolutely a crook, but she did one hell of an accurate cold read on Sokka.

The Tale of Zuko

Credits tell me that the girl's name is Jin. I would like to congratulate the creators of Avatar for managing to illustrate romantic interest so palpably without resorting to heart eyes and steam whistle noises. Nothing wrong with those; I'm just impressed by how much of Jin's interest in Zuko you can feel. Also, she'd better be more than a single episode character, because I need more of this sweetheart. She's a real contender for displacing Toph as my favourite girl in the cast.

To be fair to Zuko, he did make Jin droop (UNFORGIVABLE), but it was also the right call. He can't date her honestly. It IS complicated. And I don't think any Earth Kingdom girl (worth dating) would knowingly go out with Fire Nation royalty. Jin wanted Lee the Tea Boy. Try as he might, Zuko can't stop being Zuko. I would argue that he shouldn't stop being Zuko. His flashback mom told him not to forget who he was, so I'd also argue that the narrative doesn't want Zuko to stop being Zuko either. I guess it's a case of right girl, wrong time. It looks like she's cool with him being a firebender, but firebending and being the Fire Lord's son are not the same magnitude of hurdle to dating. Maybe when the war's over they can hook up again.

The Tale of Momo

I think this qualifies as cruelty to the audience. I got the impression that this story was crafted borderline maliciously, to make the viewers suffer angst dump after angst dump.

I liked seeing things from Momo's perspective. I loved the animal noises, which really got across a shocking amount of emotion. Those, combined with body language, were as effective as any spoken script. These cartoon people really know how to use their medium.

It absolutely kills me that Momo is missing Appa, and since he doesn't understand human speech, he can't even be comforted by knowing that his humans are actively looking for him. If you've ever seen one of your pets missing another of your pets in real life, you know there's nothing worse than the helplessness that comes with not being able to explain or magically summon their friend back from the kennel, or the vet, or the dead. All you can do is give them hugs. I'm glad that Momo got a street cat support group at the end of the episode, but the animal grief at the beginning was hard to get through. It's sweet to have confirmation that Momo sees Appa as family, but surely they could have showed that to us in a way that doesn't make me need to hug the stuffing out of my own pets?

Final Final Thoughts for real this time

This episode wrings you out a little. Fully a third of the stories are about Appa, despite him not being there. At least half are about missing someone who isn't there. At least half are bittersweet.

I liked this episode format. I hope they use it again next season. Only Toph and Katara's tale felt too short to me. The rest did such a good job at drawing me in, that when I went back to check timestamps I was surprised by how short these stories are.

I'm going to go eat too much chocolate.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the tales of ba sing se

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lawsvalentine · 2 years ago

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Getting High With Them • OP Men HC • (SFW)

Fem!reader

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Law

CW: drug use, cursing, humor, some fluff, slightly suggestive on Sanji’s and Law’s

Cee’s Note: Just vibes. This was really fun to write. Hope y’all enjoy!

Luffy

A newbie to weed, so when it hits it hits HARD

Mf thinks everything is so fucking funny when he is high

You could say a knock knock joke and he is on the floor wheezing

He’s the type to say the most random shit while high

“Y/N, isn’t it crazy that water is like wet air”

“Luffy, what-“

MUNCHIES! Somehow manages to be even more hungry than usual

You two are so obnoxiously loud like the whole crew can tell you two are high

He will say everything he is thinking about so don’t be surprised if he blurts his feelings out to you without a second thought

Zoro

We all know Zoro can hold his liquor but weed is a whole different story

Mans can barely function when he is high

Has the signature stoned look that looks like this

Completely spaces out, good luck trying to have a conversation with him

You wave a hand in front of his face “Earth to Zoro?”

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

He passes tf out within the first two hours of your smoke session

But don’t worry his cuddles make up for it

Sanji

He is surprisingly chill asf when high

He has smoked weed a couple times before with some chefs at the baratie so he’s not too foreign to it

One of the perks of getting high with the chef is he will whip up whatever you want when you have the munchies

Ya’ll be having the most deepest conversations about the meaning of life while high

Sanji already found you beautiful when sober but there is something about you when he is high that finds you breathtaking

“Am I high, or are your eyes sparkling right now, Y/N-Swan!”

“Nope, your just high, Sanji”

Oh and for some reason, weed makes him even more horny so you two end up having high sex after every session

Usopp

Paranoid AS FUCK

Mans is tripping out BAD

“Y/N!!!! MY THUMBS ARE GONE!” He says waving his fists in your face.

You gave him a blank stare as you unclenched his fist revealing his thumbs

“Oh….”

Now granted, you already knew Usopp’s claims of being a stoner was bullshit but you were curious to see how far he would take his lie

Mans could barely roll his blunt properly sgdjdj

When you and Usopp’s high was wearing off, you told him he didn’t have to pretend to be a stoner

He admits he was only trying to impress you and make you think he was cool because he had a crush on you

Law

This man right here is a COMPLETELY different person when he is high

Like a full 180

Mans is smiling more, cracking jokes, and dare I say actually laughing????

“WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH LAW?!”

Law just chuckles at your outburst, causing your eye to twitch, not believing what you are seeing

Perks of getting high with a doctor, he is also your supplier

He’s got the GOOD SHIT if you know what I mean

Law is a lot more bolder with PDA when he is high

Whether it is his hand on your thighs or you sitting on his lap

Just like Sanji, weed makes Law more horny than usual, so if you’re on his lap you will definitely feel his dick get hard

#one piece #luffy headcanons #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #zoro headcanons #roronoa zoro x y/n #sanji headcanons #sanji x reader #usopp x y/n #usopp headcanons #law headcanons #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader

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sixhours · 21 hours ago

Text

our endless numbered days

A continuation of the events in who knows where the time goes and reprise from the i know you by heart universe. This will make more sense if you've read those, but you do you.

This fic has everything! A dash of angst (forgive me, I can't write Joel without at least a little angst), nosy Tommy, a Joel/Tess interlude, family time with the kids, a slightly drunk Ellie, and two middle-aged dudes making out. What's not to love?

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut. Words: 12k Tags: The Last of Us, The Last of Us (HBO), Prospect, Joel Miller x Ezra, Joel & Ellie, Ezra & Cee, Joel x Tess, Tess Servopoulos, Tommy Miller, idiots in love, Joel is bad at feelings, Ellie is a little shit (affectionate), Cee is also a little shit (affectionate), fluff!, soft fluff!, a dash of angst because I can't help myself, SMUT, gay sex, bisexual!Joel, period-typical homophobia, light angst, happy ending, romance, soft queer dads being so soft, I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

Notes: For @jessthebaker. <3 Merry Christmas from your AWLJM Secret Santa! You once said you’d read anything with these two, and you asked for Miller-family-in-Jackson shenanigans, so I hope this hits the right notes. Thank you for being such an avid supporter of this fandom and this series. <3

The title comes from the album of the same name by Iron & Wine, and specifically the song Passing Afternoon which gives me cozy Jackson vibes.

Joel wakes early, curled up against Ezra’s naked back. The other man’s ability to hog the damn bed is impressive–his arm hanging off the side, one long leg stretching to the opposite corner–but the chill in their room has Joel grateful for his closeness. They’d moved from the couch when it became obvious they were too fucking old to manage a night on the furniture, and his knees are still complaining, but there’s a giddy seed of happiness in his chest.

Outside, the fresh snow has gathered in drifts, wind-blown. They’ll need to shovel out at some point, and they’ll probably be called up to clear the town walkways later, but for now, Jackson sleeps under a pristine white blanket.

It’s a good day for pancakes.

Half an hour later, he’s donned his thermals under a pair of flannel-lined jeans and a wool sweater, built up the fire in the woodstove, and picked up their clothes off the living room floor. He’s working on coffee and the pancake batter when there’s a frantic knock at the front door.

Joel goes to open it, finds Ellie shivering on the porch in her pajamas.

“You have a key,” he grouches, ushering her inside. “The hell’s your coat, anyway?”

“Didn’t think I’d need either, you never lock it,” she says, stamping her feet to shake off the snow. She glances into the living room, squints at something. “Dude…I’m not gonna ask why there’s a pair of boxers under the coffee table.”

Oops.

“Good,” Joel says, keeping his back turned so she won’t see him blush. “Then I won’t ask why I found your damn bra in the couch cushions last week.”

“If you had to wear one of those torture devices every day, you’d take it off the first chance you got, too,” she shoots back, then looks over his shoulder at the kitchen. “Ooh, pancakes? Did I miss a birthday or something?”

“Don’t need to have a birthday to have pancakes.”

“Yeah, but usually they’re just for special occasions or Sundays or whatever.”

“Just seemed like a good day for it. Snow day n’ all.”

She peers at him suspiciously. “Huh.”

“What?”

“You’re just unusually chipper for someone who’s gonna have to spend the day shoveling this shit.”

Joel snorts. “Don’t remind me. D’you want pancakes or what?”

“Uh, duh .”

“Then make yourself useful an’ set the table. Think we still have some strawberry preserves left over from the summer in there, too.”

“Yes, sir!” she mock-salutes, heading for the fridge.

The first pancakes are ready to be flipped when he reaches across the counter to grab a spatula. He crosses Ellie’s line of vision as she’s putting butter on a small plate and suddenly she’s grabbing at his hand.

“The heck are you–oh.”

She’s staring, bug-eyed, at the simple gold band on his finger.

“What the–where’d this come from?”

She really does notice everything.

“Uh–yeah, guess we, uh…need to talk about that.”

She blinks up at him incredulously. “Is this what I think it is?”

Joel rubs at the back of his neck. “Well…we kinda–”

“Are you two–did you get engaged?”

“We mighta skipped that part…”

“You got married ?” she half shrieks.

“Uh–”

“And you didn’t tell me ?”

“I–ah shit!” Joel hisses.

Smoke wafts from the pan. He grabs the spatula but the first batch is a lost cause.

“I think what your surrogate father figure is trying to say is, it was a spur-of-the-moment lark, gem. Nothing planned, and certainly nothing we intended to keep from you.”

Ezra has appeared at the kitchen door, leaning against the frame in his sweatpants and a flannel that looks suspiciously like Joel’s. Between Ellie and Ezra, Joel’s wardrobe is slowly being co-opted into a family affair.

Fuckin’ communism.

“What he said,” Joel sighs, flipping the burnt pancakes into the trash and fiddling with the heat before adding fresh batter to the pan.

“Seriously?” she gapes, looking back and forth between them, settling on Ezra. “Oh my god, do I have to call you ‘dad’ now?”

“You don’t even call me dad,” Joel grumbles.

“Dude, shut up, I’m talking to my evil stepmother.”

“Been watchin’ too many Disney movies. Mornin’, by the way,” he say, smiling wryly at Ezra. “She knows, I guess.”

“Dude! Wait, who asked who? Did you get down on one knee?”

“He asked me, but the sentiment was mutual,” Ezra says. “And…no. Not exactly.”

Joel waits for the inevitable joke about his knees cracking, but Ellie is too entranced by this new development to make one. Small favors.

Soon he doles out the pancakes onto three plates and brings them to the table, dropping a kiss at Ezra’s temple before taking his usual seat.

“Huh. Still gross,” Ellie says mildly, prompting a revenge forehead kiss for her, too. She wrinkles her nose and pretends to push him away, but she’s grinning, reaching for the syrup. Like another child Joel adored, she pours the stuff over her pancakes until they’re practically swimming.

“Better not be wastin’ that syrup, kid.”

“You know I won’t,” she huffs, cutting into the stack and taking a giant bite before he can remind her to go easy. Practically eighteen and she’s still a tiny thing who eats like she’s starving. It’s a wonder she hasn’t choked to death.

“Sh’iz so fuckin’ weird,” she says, words muffled by her chewing. “Don’t you have to, like, register with the council or something? Say some vows? What about the cake?”

“Uh, no,” Joel says. “Don’t have to do any a’that.”

“Why the hell would you get married if you don’t even get to have a fucking cake?” she says.

“There used to be certain legal benefits,” Ezra muses. “In this day and age, it’s more a…show of commitment.”

“Right,” Joel mumbles. “Don’t need to be a big deal.”

“Hmm. I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Ezra offers thoughtfully. “It’s a very big deal. Especially when you consider the history, the matrimonial bond for same-sex couples back in the day was a pretty sad state of affairs…and Jackson is the exception to the rule. I don’t recall FEDRA giving out marriage licenses to queer folk.”

“I don’t–I just meant…we don’t need to make a show of anythin’.”

“And what if I wanted a bit of fanfare, hm?” Ezra asks nonchalantly, gesturing with his fork. “The wedding of every little boy’s dreams? Flowers, champagne, a sparkly white dress–”

Ellie giggles. “Dude.”

“I could pull it off,” Ezra smirks.

Joel barely hears any of this. He fumbles for his coffee and tries to clear his throat.

“I–you–you do? I mean, do you?”

Had he fucked this up already? He’d been enchanted, dopey with lovestruck affection and not thinking entirely with his brain when he’d presented the rings. Truly, he hadn’t been thinking much at all, warmed by the fire and the thought of his future husband’s hand in his and then, well, everything had turned very–

“Awwwww-kard,” Ellie says through a mouthful of pancakes, and Joel shoots her a look.

“Kid–”

But Ezra is grinning, watching Joel get more and more flustered. “I’m pullin’ your leg, songbird. No fuss necessary on my account.”

Joel returns to his food, still nursing a seed of discontent when his thoughts are interrupted by slurping, Ellie having tipped up her plate, licking it clean.

“What!?” she says off his look, wiping the back of her mouth with her sleeve. “Told you I wouldn’t waste it.”

“Raised in a goddamn barn,” Joel mutters, looking to Ezra for sympathy, only to find him doing the same thing.

“Waste not, want not,” Ezra chirps, and Joel doesn’t miss the wink he gives Ellie across the table.

They’re already ganging up on him. Christ .

Later, after Ellie has bounced out the door with a promise to help shovel, they’re dressing to go out and brave the snow, pulling on thick coats and gloves.

“Hey,” Joel tries. “I, uh…about the whole, uh, wedding…thing. If you wanted…somethin’ more...I guess I prob’ly shoulda asked, but I wasn’t, uh…”

He rubs at the back of his neck, feeling just as awkward and fumbling as he had the day they first met. Two years together and the man can still turn him into a bumbling idiot. He’s fuckin’ hopeless.

Ezra’s expression softens. “I genuinely had no expectations…ceremonial or otherwise.”

“You sure? ‘Cause we can…if you–”

Ezra shakes his head firmly. “I’m certain. This,” he murmurs, reassuring him with a soft kiss. “This is more than enough.”

Joel is clearing the walkways in front of the Bison just before lunch when Anders walks by and claps him on the shoulder in passing.

“Congrats, man!”

It takes him several minutes to puzzle out what the hell he’s being congratulated for.

By the end of that day, enough of their neighbors have extended well-wishes that Joel knows Ellie must have talked to someone. Probably Dina, the unofficial Jackson town crier. When there was local news to share–and a couple making it official in their tiny community was exactly the kind of gossip that spread–Ellie and Dina were more efficient than a local news broadcast.

Tommy’s shit-eating grin the next morning at the stables is enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Heard congratulations are in order, big brother.”

“Ellie told you, huh?”

“Yup. But why the hell am I hearin’ about it from your kid and not you?”

Joel shrugs, smiles to himself. “Seem to remember you getting hitched without tellin’ me. Among other things.”

“You ever gonna consider letting me live that down?” Tommy asks cheerfully.

“Don’t reckon so.”

“Well, I’ll be the bigger man and forgive you,” Tommy says. “And I’ll do you one better and warn you; the girls are fixin’ to throw you two a surprise party.”

Joel groans, starts to open his mouth to protest, but Tommy holds up a hand.

“Look, you didn’t hear it from me. But don’t bother tryin’ to fight ‘em on this; Ellie’s invested and Maria’s always lookin’ for an excuse to lighten things up around here. I made ‘em promise to keep it small, but…”

He shrugs as if to say What can you do?

Joel huffs, tightens the strap on the saddle and tugs on the reins to lead Old Beardy out. Tommy follows with Justified, and soon they’re mounted up and riding through the gates.

“Gonna be a helluva week,” Tommy mutters. “Got half the crew off with that flu thing goin’ around. Think I’m on the damn schedule every day ‘til March.”

Joel grunts. “Yeah, me too.”

“Gonna make for a short honeymoon, huh?”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel mutters, urging his horse to pick up the pace amidst Tommy’s delighted laughter.

It’s an uneventful if slow ride, the trail soft and not yet packed down after the storm. They take out a couple of runners from a distance–can barely be called runners, though, forced to shuffle and stumble through drifts, making them easy targets. Tommy’s in a chatty mood, and Joel is content to let him hold up the brunt of the conversation, business as usual. They’re taking lunch after clearing the outpost just outside Wilson when Tommy brings it up again, the serious note in his voice immediately setting Joel on edge.

“Y’know I’m happy for you, right?”

“Uhhh…yeah,” Joel says, opening the logbook.

“Think Sarah woulda got along real nice with y’all.”

The thought doesn’t stir the same hurt it used to, doesn’t bring him to his knees with grief, but his brother’s doing that thing he does with his hands when he wants to say something and doesn’t know how. He frowns.

“Sure…”

“I don’t–uh…I mean, I knew you weren’t…y’know. Glad it’s…glad Ezra’s good. Good for you. Even if he’s not, uh…not who I woulda…I just–”

Joel fixes him with a blank stare. “Spit it out, Tommy.”

His brother rubs at the back of his neck. Joel tenses, waiting for some just-shy-of-homophobic remark, the kind he’s grown all too familiar with over the last couple years.

You don’t look like the type.

Joel Miller? I never would’ve thought.

Although he’d really hoped never to hear it from Tommy, who, until now, had kept silent about his brother’s inclinations. As he damn well should.

But he remembers all too well where they grew up, and old habits are hard to break.

Tommy sighs. “Haven’t seen you this happy since…since Tess, is all.”

Hearing the name jars him, his pen stuttering over the page, marring his signoff. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, feels the weight of the new ring on his finger acutely. Just like his brother, to poke at a sore spot he didn’t even know he had.

“Yeah,” Joel mutters, slapping the book shut. “Thanks.”

“Sometimes I wonder what she’d make of all this,” Tommy says, chuckling, running a hand through his curls. “Communism. Fuck, she’d think we lost our damn minds.”

It occurs to him, probably two years too late, that Tess was just as much Tommy’s friend as Joel’s. Even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms by the time Tommy ran off with the Fireflies, the three of them had once been close enough to be called family.

“You ever think about her?” Tommy asks when they’re mounted up and headed back toward town. There’s an edge to his voice that tells Joel he knows he’s treading dangerous ground.

“Not much,” Joel says tightly. Truth be told, it was closer to not at all until today, but like hell he’s going to tell his brother that.

You don't bring up Tess, ever .

Seems like he did a damn good job of taking his own advice, for once.

“Huh,” he says, too lightly. “Well…I think she’d be happy for you, too, big brother.”

Joel grunts and says nothing, stares straight down the path in hopes of ending this conversation right fuckin’ now. It works, and Tommy’s usual chatter dies down to the occasional comment on their surroundings.

But the damage is done and a slow-festering guilt has already begun blooming behind Joel’s ribs at the mention of her name.

It’s a long, cold ride back to Jackson.

Tommy’s not wrong about the patrol schedule. For the next ten days, they’re on duty from sunup to sundown. Thankfully wintertime means they’re mostly uneventful rides, but he puts in a lot of miles, the kind of days that leave his back achy and his ass and hips sore. Most nights he comes home bone-tired, with just enough energy to eat something and shower before falling into bed.

For his part, Ezra waits up for him to make sure he has a hot meal, teases about becoming a “proper little ménagère, ” and threatens to find a frilly apron at the trading post to complete the look. Meanwhile, Joel just tries not to fall asleep on the couch…and fails most of the time.

All the while, riding the trails with his patrol partners, he has too much time to think.

And for the first time in years, he’s thinking of Tess.

Fifteen years as partners. Two months traveling together before they’d fallen into bed and swore to keep each other’s secrets. It was more than he gave anyone back then, but it had never really been enough.

She asked once. Just once.

And he’d turned away. Got shitfaced. They never talked about it again, but she still came home to their bed every night.

…not to feel the way I felt.

And it wasn’t like she’d asked for much. Certainly nothing as formal as a proposal or a ring or even a promise. Just his heart, shattered as it was, and he couldn’t even manage that.

Then it was too late. Made him promise to save who he could and sacrificed herself for him, for Ellie, for the hope of a future she would never see. She would never know what she’d done for him.

Her memory haunts him, nags at him, makes a home under his skin like a splinter. She’s there, hovering at the edges of his consciousness, a ghost in his peripheral vision. He sees glimpses of her on patrols, in the lurch of a small, slight woman in flannel, infected; in someone’s long, red-auburn hair at the stables; in a rough laugh amongst the crowds at the dining hall.

And then one night, he dreams. The kind of dream he hasn’t had in months, the kind of dream he used to have over and over, but this time it’s Tess instead of Sarah.

Tess, yelling at him to help her, goddammit, there’s gotta be something .

Tess, pulling back her collar to reveal the bite with one already twitching hand.

Tess, twisted and gnarled with infection, caught in a sea of flames.

He wakes sweating and panting with a scream stuck in his throat and her mutilated face burned into the backs of his eyelids.

“Joel? Wha-happened?”

Ezra stirs at his side, voice thick with sleep.

“It’s…it’s nothin’,” he says roughly, still trying to catch his breath. “Go back to sleep.”

Then there’s a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and he lets himself be pulled down and pressed into the cradle of Ezra’s good arm. Soon his breath flutters the hair at his temple, slow and even, but Joel doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Five years earlier

“Shouldn’t have turned around,” Joel grumbles, hissing as he puts more weight on his bad leg. “We coulda made it.”

Tess looks up at him from under his left arm; he’s been using her as a human crutch for the last quarter mile.

“Sure,” she says drily, grunting as they take another uncoordinated, shuffling step. Behind them, black storm clouds are rolling in faster than they can walk and the wind has already picked up, whipping the first drops of rain hard enough to sting their cheeks. “You wanna get caught in this shit, be my guest, but I’m not gonna get soaked on your account, and you can’t fuckin’ walk.”

“Gonna be late. They won’t let us in.”

“Frank won’t care.”

“Bill will.”

A dry chuckle. “Yeah, well…we both know Bill’s not in charge.”

They’d done the trip from Boston to Lincoln dozens of times without incident, but today, the raiders took them by surprise. It was rare to find a group so ballsy as to fuck with Joel and Tess. Their reputation extended well beyond the walls of the QZ, but apparently these folks hadn’t heard about them, or they were feeling brave, desperate, stupid, or some combination of the three.

All four men were now littering the side of the road about half a mile back, but Joel took a bullet to the calf for the trouble.

“Just a graze,” he’d said tightly, blood pooling sticky and warm in his boot, but Tess took one look at the damage and shook her head in disgust. They were a mile past one of their cache houses, and Lincoln was at least six miles down the road.

“We’ll get to the safehouse, get that bullet out of your leg, wait out the storm,” Tess said in a voice that suggested the decision was final.

It usually was with her.

The safehouse is an old hunting cabin off a logging road. They’d set it up as a cache years ago but hadn’t had much need for it given the proximity to Lincoln. The rain has begun in full force and they’re already soaked by the time Tess confirms the place is clear, Joel sagging against the side of the building to keep watch.

Once they’re safely inside, Joel collapses onto the cabin’s only piece of furniture, a decrepit sofa. Tess is rummaging around in her pack and pulls out the first aid kit– a box of cloths, a flask of alcohol, a needle and thread, a lighter, and a roll of duct tape.

“Pants off, Texas.”

He’s in too much pain for innuendo. Tess unwraps the makeshift bandage, already soaked with blood, and he slides his jeans down with a groan and a muffled curse. Then she unbuttons her short-sleeved button-down, stripping down to her bra.

“What?” she says off his incredulous look. “This is my favorite shirt, not gonna get it all bloody. On your front.”

He obliges, rolling until he’s face down on the couch so Tess can examine his leg.

“Huh,” she says. “Never gonna believe this.”

Joel grunts. “Try me.”

“Went clean through.”

“Lucky me,” he grits his teeth.

“You are,” she says. “Few inches off and we’d be having a very different conversation. Alright, might wanna bite down unless you want every infected in a half-mile radius finding us.”

“I’ll be fine. Just do it.”

The alcohol burns like a motherfucker, but at this point, the pain is barely a blip on his radar, more of the same. The stitches are a different story. He ends up grabbing his belt, doubling it up and sinking his teeth into the sweaty, sticky old leather as Tess finishes sewing up the wounds.

“Not my best work, but it’ll hold until we can get Frank to take a look. Pretty sure Bill still has a stash of antibiotics,” Tess murmurs, digging in her pack for a fresh cloth to wrap it. “Just gonna tie this. We have the oxy–”

“Ain’t tradin’ that for antibiotics.”

Tess huffs. “No, Frank won’t let him trade for those, anyway. But you might want the oxy later. Don’t know how long the storm is going to last and you’re shaking.”

He is; he hadn’t even realized it. He’s trembling and his skin is dewy with sweat.

“Shock,” he mutters. Not the first time he’s been shot, after all.

“Uh-huh. Alright, you can roll over.”

He does, with some difficulty. Outside, rain lashes at the windows, lightning cracks and fills the room with bursts of light. Joel shivers, teeth clattering.

“Shirt off,” she says. “You’re soaked, that’s not helping.”

He tries, but his fingers are shaking too hard to undo the buttons. She pushes his hands gently away and does them herself, urging him up to take the wet flannel off, then unzips his bedroll and tucks it around him. Then she places two white pills in his palm.

“Don’t need ‘em,” he grits out. These are the good pills and he’s thinking of all that profit gone to waste for a stupid fuckin’ graze.

She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of an argument, just wordlessly holds out the flask. The shaking is making his damn leg hurt even worse. He swallows the pills with a mouthful of booze exactly as she knew he would.

The pain slowly ebbs, replaced by a fuzzy, uncaring feeling he recognizes all too well. He’s drifting on that high as time spreads like liquid honey, faintly aware of Tess’ movements about the room–digging under the floorboards to examine their cache, replenishing their ammo, checking the windows and exits, still only half dressed. At some point, she lets her hair down, damp and darkened from the rain, and combs it out with her fingers. A shorter cut would be easier to maintain, less likely to attract unwanted attention, but it’s one of the few vanities she allows herself and he secretly loves it. It always smells like her, soft burnt gold and sweet no matter how many miles they’ve covered.

Eventually, she settles on the floor next to the couch, sipping at the flask with her gun at hand.

“Sleep,” she all but orders, and he does.

When he wakes, it takes his eyes a moment to adjust. It’s night. The sounds of thunder and the roar on the roof overhead tells him it’s still pouring. Tess is silhouetted in the window, the orange glow of a cigarette moving in the dark.

His leg throbs and he can’t hold back a grunt of pain. The drugs have worn off, but he’s not going to take more if he can avoid it. She notices, though, and turns.

“Should get away from the window,” he says. “Someone might see the light.”

A deep inhale. “Not in this shit. Can’t see two feet in front of your face out there. How’s the leg?”

“Fine,” he mutters, trying to sit up, grimacing, hoping she can’t see his expression in the dark.

“Clothes should be dry,” she says, moving to his side, the smell of smoke wafting over him. Another rare indulgence, soothing her overtaxed nerves. She hands him the flask and he accepts it gratefully. Her hand is firm on his shoulder as she eases down to the floor.

“All’s quiet,” she murmurs, stubbing out the cigarette on a piece of foil. She leans her head back against his thigh and his hand finds its way to her hair, rubbing circles into her scalp until she hums.

“I can take watch,” he says roughly. “Let you get some rest.”

“You’re in no shape. We’re fine,” she says, then softens. “Was looking forward to one of Bill’s meals. Heard they found a contact and traded for a share of beef. Real steak.”

“End of the goddamned world and Frank’s still holdin’ dinner parties,” Joel mutters.

His hand drifts lower, callused fingers dragging over the back of her cheek, feels her smirk.

“He offered us a place.”

“Huh? Who?”

“Frank. We’d have our pick of houses within the perimeter. Share the work, share the supplies.”

“...and Bill’s alright with that?”

“I don’t think Bill knows.”

“What, uh…what’d you say?”

She shrugs, a non-answer. The silence grows heavy and he lets it lie. Often he doesn’t need to wait long before Tess takes control of the conversation, anyway, and he’s too stunned to find the words.

“I think Frank is worried about Bill,” she says softly. “What happens…after.”

After.

Frank has been sick for months. They’ve managed to trade for certain medications that help control the symptoms, but there is no cure, no coordinated treatment. The last time they made the hike from the QZ, roughly six months ago, Frank was no longer able to get out of his wheelchair.

“Can’t say I blame him,” she continues, frowning, picking at something on the floor. “There’s strength in numbers.”

Joel grunts, noncommittal. He’d rather have his leg amputated with a rusty hacksaw than live within ten miles of Bill.

“I keep thinking about it,” Tess says. “No more FEDRA, no Fireflies…no getting shafted on trades, hunting these assholes down–”

Joel blinks, wiping his hands over his face, trying to clear his head. This conversation feels like a dream, like it’s not really happening, and he wishes he had a couple more oxy so he could blame the drugs. Tess, the woman who had him break a guy’s fingers for shorting her three cigarettes–one finger for each. The woman who just murdered four people because they made the lethal mistake of shooting first. Tess– his Tess–talking about settling down.

“Can you even imagine?” she sighs.

He grunts again. She turns to look at him but he can’t meet her eyes.

“Aren’t you tired, Joel?”

Tired? Of course he is. His back hurts, his knees hurt, everything fuckin’ hurts. He hasn’t slept a day without booze or pills in years. But the hurt keeps him grounded, keeps him going, keeps him from feeling…everything else.

“So you wanna quit?” he says flatly.

“What is there to quit?” she scoffs. “We were never going to settle in Boston, we said it was temporary–”

“It’s been ten fuckin’ years.”

“Yeah, and we had plans, remember? Get out of the city, away from FEDRA. This could be our chance.”

“That was before. There were more of us. An’ Tommy…”

“Tommy,” she sniffs. “You really think he’s coming back?”

No, he doesn’t. Their once-weekly radio messages are growing further apart as they have less and less to say. The thought sets an aching fire in Joel’s chest and he takes a long swig of the whiskey. It burns the same, but at least it’ll get him drunk enough to forget.

“Look,” she tries again. “We go to Bill and Frank’s, we can retire. I sure as hell wouldn’t mind taking it easy for once. We’ve spent half our lives running, we’re getting too fuckin’ old for this–”

The windows flash, thunder rumbles, and he can see the lines around her eyes in harsh relief. He hates her for bringing this up, hates himself even more for the anger it stirs in him.

“Y’don’t retire from this,” he says. “That ain’t the world we live in.”

Her derision is palpable. “Just what I thought you’d say.”

He shifts on the couch, tries to stretch his busted leg and hisses at the stabbing, lancing pain. “What do you want, Tess? You wanna, what…plant a garden? Grow fuckin’ tomatoes? You can do that just fine in the QZ.”

“No, I–”

“You wanna spend the rest of your life drinkin’ shitty wine over hors d’oeuvres in Frank’s backyard like some post-apocalyptic Martha Stewart?”

He’s being cruel and he knows it, but he can’t seem to shut his mouth. Under any other circumstance she’d probably haul off and punch him and that would be the end of it, but she’s strangely subdued, almost melancholy. It’s unsettling, unnerving, makes his jaw ache from holding it tight, waiting for the strike that won’t come.

“I want to live , Joel,” she snaps. “I want more than this. Shitty fuckin’ apartment, living off rations, in lockup every other week for the dumbest shit. This isn’t a life! It’s fuckin’ purgatory.”

“I can’t do that, Tess,” he spits. “You get…you get what you get with me. I ain’t gonna settle down in some shit suburb an’ play fuckin’ house.”

“Just…fuck it. Fine,” she snaps. “Forget it. You’ve made your point. We stay in Boston.”

He takes another long, unsatisfying drink and silently begs for it to take hold, to take him past the point of caring. They stay like that, quiet and rigid in their anger, until the weight of her head against his thigh is barely there, until he can’t pin his thoughts in place long enough to let them sink their teeth in. He’s drifting and dozing when she nudges him awake.

“Move over,” she mutters, and he does.

She crawls under the blanket and tucks herself against his side. This is how they work–quick to anger, quick to forget. She’s warm and soft against his bare skin and he’s able to momentarily shut out the pain. Not just his leg, but all of it.

Sarah.

Tommy.

Everything they did to get to this point.

She makes it easy to forget.

“You’re right,” she says softly, fingers skimming over his chest. “But…we can’t keep going like this, Texas. One of these days, our luck’s gonna run out.”

Later, she shucks off her jeans and briefs and straddles his hips. Her hair falls around him, featherlight and sweet against his cheeks, forming a curtain as their lips meet. She tastes of liquor and smoke and desperation. Tight and hot, blunt fingernails digging into his pecs as she rides him slowly, grinding down to hit just the right spot, using him. But that’s fine, she’ll get what she needs, what little he can give. A warm body on a cold night, another set of eyes on her six, the brains to his brawn. Two halves unable to make a whole.

Lightning flashes and she hovers over him like an angel, haloed by the light as she comes, and he follows her into the dark.

Present day

Two weeks after his impromptu proposal, Joel comes home with a spring in his step. He’s exhausted, just about worn down to the marrow, but he’s home for dinner and the patrol schedule has loosened up. He has two whole days off.

He’s going to sleep. He’s going to spend time with his kid. Maybe pick up his guitar for the first time in weeks. And he’s going to spend at least one of those days with Ezra, because it’s been way too fuckin’ long.

There’s music on the record player and the smell of something cooking. He half expects to see a frilly apron, too, but no, it’s just Ezra in an undershirt and dark jeans standing at the stove. Joel stops in the doorway to admire the sight–bare shoulders and biceps, the dark curl of hair at the nape of his neck, the easy confidence in his movements.

“Hey,” he says in greeting, suddenly itching to touch him, to ground himself in the warmth of his body. He moves in and wraps his arms around Ezra’s waist and presses his cheek to his back. Home.

“Exercise caution, songbird, there are hot things afoot,” he says. “And a stew.”

Joel muffles his groan and mutters into the back of Ezra’s neck. “You’re terrible.”

“Terribly charming, I agree. The stew should be moderately edible, if my culinary talents haven’t failed me.”

But Joel finds he isn’t much interested in the food. The sight of all that bare skin has him wanting.

“Supper can wait,” Joel murmurs, drawing his hands across Ezra’s stomach, his hip, swaying a little. “S’go to bed.”

“As much as I would love to indulge, I’m afraid we have social obligations,” Ezra sighs.

Joel pulls back, frowning. “No.”

“We’re due at the Bison in an hour.”

“Shit,” Joel grumbles. “This what I think it is?”

“I’m afraid so,” he says, turning around. “And it would be in poor taste to miss our own party. Go clean up so we can eat.”

“Thinkin’ I’m about to have a bad case of the shits,” Joel mutters, but he turns away and heads for the stairs. Poor taste aside, he has no desire to face Ellie’s wrath…let alone Maria’s.

Later, showered and dressed in one of his nicer flannels, he finds Ezra still in the kitchen doling out bowls of stew, a clean, pressed button-down shirt over his undershirt. The empty sleeve has been carefully tailored to Ezra’s form, no hastily tied knot or cut-off sleeve, and the color makes his dark eyes look even darker.

Joel swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Seems a bit unfair for you to look this good when I can’t do a damn thing about it,” he says, voice low.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, but we’re still going to the party. Eat.”

He does, and the stew is more than edible, but he can’t eat much. He’s distracted and restless, finds himself irrationally jealous of Ezra’s spoon.

“Don’t forget to pretend to be surprised,” Ezra says, adjusting Joel’s collar at the door. “And try to enjoy yourself, hmm? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But you smash cake in my face at any point, you lose your other arm.”

To Ellie’s credit, it’s nothing fancy. Sure, they’ve turned the fairy lights on at the Bison and there’s a cake on the bar, but they kept it small–which, in Jackson, means only a quarter of the town. God knows they’ve earned the right to enjoy themselves and Joel doesn’t mind being half the excuse, even if it means blushing his way through a few awkward toasts.

He remembers his first wedding, not much bigger or more extravagant than this one. At least this time Tommy isn’t 15 years old and drunk as a skunk, vomiting in the ladies’ room because the men’s room at the Elks Lodge was out of order. His new bride had been vomiting in the ladies’ room, too–for a different reason.

This is definitely an improvement. In fact, he’s almost enjoying himself when Ellie sidles up to him, looking far too pleased with herself.

“How’s life with the ol’ ball n’ chain?”

Joel sips his beer. “The hell d’you come up with this shit?”

“Dina’s got us watching old episodes of Cheers ,” she says, wrinkling her nose. Then she grins, gesturing to the room. “So, whaddya think? Not bad for a reception, huh?”

“Not bad,” he admits, hugging her to his side, relishing the way she hangs on for a second longer than usual. “Thanks, kid. But no more surprise parties or you’re grounded ‘til you’re 30.”

“Better not get married again, then.”

“Don’t intend to,” he murmurs, watching Ezra talking to someone across the room. He can’t see her face, but her hair shines under the lights and she laughs at something Ezra has said, and in a flash of painful nostalgia he can only see Tess.

She’d never asked for anything like this. Probably would have laughed in his face if he’d proposed, not that he’d ever been inclined to. But there had been a time when she’d suggested something more permanent. Something more defined. Something much like the home he shares with Ezra. And he’d turned away, unable to think he deserved to be happy after a lifetime of brutality.

When Tess died, he’d told Ellie not to talk about her, and then he’d locked her memory away with Sarah’s. But Sarah had come back to him, with time and patience and Ellie’s influence.

Tess hadn’t. And somehow, in the scant three years since her passing, he’d managed to keep her tucked away, secreted at the back of his mind in that dark, lonely place. Nothing but a shoddy stone cairn somewhere in Western Massachusetts to show for it. But something in him has reawakened, Ezra bringing it out in him, and now–

“Joel?”

Ellie is looking up at him with concern. He blinks, squints, and the woman turns so he can see her profile–not Tess, not even close. Her hair is too short, her laugh too modest, her nose too long.

But he can’t convince his damn heart.

“I’m–uh, I just–gimme a minute,” he whispers hoarsely.

He doesn't even realize it’s happening until the panic is on top of him, until he tries to take a breath and his ribs feel bound in iron. Abandoning Ellie, he makes it to the door, slips outside without his jacket, the cold air hitting his lungs like a bomb.

He leans against the wall in the alley, willing his lungs to inflate. They do, just not as fast or as fully as he’d like. Jesus, he hasn’t had one this bad in months. Not since before Ellie and he–

A hand between his shoulder blades, a familiar voice at his shoulder.

“Breathe, love.”

“Shit,” Joel croaks, half startled, half relieved.

“Our young prodigy sent me,” Ezra murmurs. “Said you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Joel can’t find the breath to answer, so he just nods.

“Should I be concerned?” Ezra is peering at him. “Are you chasing spirits, songbird?”

“Think they’re chasin’ me,” he rasps.

Ezra nods, draping Joel’s coat over his shoulders before his hand resumes its careful path up and down his spine.

“You know,” he says casually. “Normally one gets cold feet before they’ve exchanged rings.”

A laugh bubbles up from Joel’s throat–more a barking cough under the circumstances–but something in his chest relents.

“It ain’t that,” he mutters when he’s caught his breath. “Jus’...too much goin’ on in there.”

“Should we perhaps take our leave?”

“God yes,” Joel breathes. “Please.”

“Come,” Ezra says, threading his arm through Joel’s. “The merriment is for their sake. I doubt we’ll be missed.”

Joel isn’t so sure about that, but he lets Ezra lead him without protest, still trying to calm his heart. It’s a short walk and soon they’re standing on the porch at Ezra’s old house. He lets them in with the key Cee keeps under the mat.

“I suspect they won’t think to look for us here,” Ezra says. They shrug off their jackets and hang them in the hall, leave their boots at the door, and Joel feels a powerful sense of déja vu walking into Ezra’s office. The room is sparse now, most of the record collection having been moved to their shared house. There’s a plant in the corner on the pedestal where the record player used to be and a few books line the shelves. It’s less inhabited, less personal, but his memory fills in the blanks.

“I’m going to investigate the coffee situation,” Ezra says, leaving Joel with a pat on the shoulder.

Joel sinks into the loveseat across from Ezra’s usual chair. He hears him moving around in the kitchen down the hall, the sounds of water running. His head still feels fuzzy, but at least he can fuckin’ breathe. He closes his eyes, sags into the cushions.

Ezra comes back with two mugs and sets them on the coffee table, then moves to take his seat across the room before stopping himself. He glances back at Joel, smiles faintly. Not the only one having déja vu, apparently.

“Apologies. Old habits,” he murmurs, taking the seat next to Joel instead. “Drink.”

Joel does, relishing the warmth of the coffee despite the wood-like taste of the chicory. Ezra is watching him intently, his expression carefully neutral.

“It ain’t–it’s nothin’ bad,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s, uh…all this has me thinkin’ about someone I knew…before.”

Ezra frowns. “Your…wife?”

Joel shakes his head, realizing with a further pang of remorse; he’s never talked about her, never even said her name aloud. “That was before…Before. Tess was my…business partner. Back in Boston, we uh…we were…”

“Attached?” Ezra offers.

Joel snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, we were…together. More or less.”

Ezra leans back into the cushions, takes a long sip from his mug. Joel searches his face for jealousy or anger, any kind of sign he should stop. But Ezra has the almost infuriating ability to detach, and his expression gives nothing away.

“Ain’t a big story,” Joel mutters. “We worked well together. Survived a hell of a lot. It was kinda…kinda an unspoken thing. Happened without us meanin’ it to, I think. Spend fifteen years with a person…you get to know ‘em. We shared everything–the best and worst, I always had a partner through it. Guess it was kinda inevitable, but…but she, uh…”

“You loved her,” Ezra prompts softly. Joel looks down, realizes he’s taken his hand.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “But I couldn’t…I couldn’t. She was bit ‘fore we came out here. She saved my ass one more time, then she was gone. Told me to take the kid and…and make it up to her.”

“Which…you did.”

Joel nods, throat going tight at the thought. He’d saved Ellie, Ellie had saved him. He thought he’d done his duty to Tess, but now he’s not so sure. The ring on his finger feels heavy again, like a broken promise.

“I guess all this…just catchin’ up to me,” he murmurs. “Didn’t even say goodbye. All happened so fast. And then…then I had Ellie to think of. And Tess died…not knowin’ I…how I…”

He trails off, unable to continue. He closes his eyes and all he can see is Tess standing in the warm evening light of the State House, telling him to save who he can save.

“Lately…I keep thinkin’ I see her,” he rasps, swiping at his eyes. “Around town, on patrol…she woulda got along real nice here. Made a good life for herself. But she never got a chance.”

Ezra brings his arm up to cradle the back of Joel’s neck, guides him gently down against his shoulder so he can bury his nose in the crook of his neck, the earthy scent of his shaving lotion a distant comfort. He wraps his arms around his waist.

“She knew,” he murmurs against his ear.

Joel shakes his head, clutches at the fabric of Ezra’s shirt, presses his face more firmly into his collar.

“She did,” he insists, gentle but firm. “And I know this because I know how you love, I have been…the recipient of said attentions, and I’m certain that even in your somewhat emotionally repressed state–”

Joel shudders, a dry laugh through his tears. Somewhat emotionally repressed couldn’t begin to describe how closed off he’d been. But then, Tess had her own demons, her own hard, impossible shell. They were as bad for each other as they were good, so many times they were the salt in each others’ wounds. But over time she had warmed, loosened, become more pliant. Somewhere along the line, she’d forgiven herself, while he continued to wear his self-hatred like armor.

Ezra pulls back, looking at him curiously.

“Y’don’t know, Ez, you don’t–I wasn’t…like this,” he says thickly. “Was barely alive.”

“But you are now. What she saw in you was worthy, so you live for her.”

“Sometimes I think…I don’t…don’t deserve to.”

“Whether any of us is deserving is beside the point,” he says gently. “You’re here, so you live for the ones who couldn’t.”

Joel huffs softly and Ezra leans in, presses a long kiss to the furrow between his brows, resting forehead to forehead, sharing breath. There’s an ache in his chest with her name on it clamoring for attention, a grief mixed with shame and hope and all the leftover love that had nowhere to go until now. A rough thing worn smooth over time.

Wasn’t time that did it , he thinks dully.

When their mouths meet, it’s hard and frantic and needy, pent up desire and sadness, a need to prove something. It’s been too long and there’s been too much and he needs to forget, so he lets Ezra ease him back, knee between Joel’s thighs, both of them sliding down into the cushions.

“Aren’t we getting a bit…far in years…to be doing this kind of thing on the couch?” Ezra murmurs between kisses, lowering himself onto Joel with a groan.

“Weren’t complainin’…last time,” he grits out, just as Ezra’s tongue traces the seam of his lips, delves deeper, stealing both his ability to speak and his last coherent thought.

“Touché.”

Ezra’s hand fumbles between them, untucking his shirt. Joel growls into his mouth as his husband finds warm flesh, takes the meat of his lower lip between his teeth and tugs gently, then soothes the bite with his tongue. It’s all desperation, a hiss as Joel rakes the shirt up Ezra’s back, rewarded with the warm expanse of bare skin.

They’ve barely managed to find a rhythm before the front door opens and Cee’s voice rings out in the hall.

“Hello?”

“Shit,” Ezra hisses as they scramble apart. “Just us, birdie,” he calls, jumping up with a blush of pink across his cheeks. He’s smoothing his hair back, subtly trying to adjust himself. Joel bites back a chuckle. Hasn’t been caught out like this since he was a goddamned teenager necking in his dad’s pickup.

He hastily tucks his shirt back in and follows Ezra into the hall where Cee is unwinding her scarf, hanging it alongside their coats.

“Saw the light,” she says, nodding toward the office, looking back and forth between them. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no,” Ezra says, sounding as out of breath as Joel feels. “We simply required a moment of respite from the festivities.”

“Yeah, I get that,” she says with a wry smile. “Don’t worry, I think Ellie’s telling everyone you two left to…y’know. Honeymoon.”

“Christ,” Joel mutters, ducking his head, warmth creeping up the back of his neck. Thankfully Ezra is quick to change the subject.

“And where is your gentleman friend this evening?”

She rolls her eyes. “‘Gentleman friend?’ Really?”

“Your…lover?” Ezra tries, grimacing even as he says it.

“Gross, please don’t ever say that again,” she shudders. “ Luke is on the wall tonight, but he sends his congratulations.”

“Aha. Well, I suppose if you’re in for the night, we should take our—”

“Actually,” she says, drawing out the word. “I skipped dinner at the caf…and I have everything for grilled cheese…”

Joel recognizes her doe-eyed expression. He’s seen it on his own kid often enough when she’s asking after something, but Ezra doesn’t seem to take the hint.

“Oh,” he frowns. “We wouldn’t want to intrude on your dinner.”

“No, I mean–you make the best grilled cheese. Plus maybe I wanted to, y’know, spend time with you?”

Ezra shoots him a look. “Oh, I–I, uh–I’m not certain we’re exactly–”

“I could eat,” Joel cuts in, reassuring him with a nod, relieved to have the focus off his shoulders for the time being.

“Well, then…save the butter for your bread, birdie,” Ezra grins. “We’d be delighted to keep you company and share a meal. Let’s introduce my husband to a…family tradition of sorts.”

Which is how Joel ends up at the kitchen table watching Ezra and Cee working together at the counter. They banter and trade gentle barbs side by side, and Joel finds himself relaxing into it, happy for the distraction.

“When we first moved to Jackson, I couldn’t sleep,” Cee explains, scraping butter from a brick and dropping it into a pan to melt. “Had a lot of bad dreams. Ez was usually awake, too, so we’d meet up in the kitchen.”

“Cee neglects to mention that we were also half starved at the time. Access to a full pantry was an extravagance neither of us could have imagined…I suppose it’s no small wonder we sought solace in sustenance.”

It’s easy to see how the two made it together; they work as a team in the kitchen just as they must have worked together to survive outside the walls. But something about watching him with Cee tugs at Joel’s heart. Ezra has always been comfortable in his own skin, but with Cee he’s even softer, even more himself.

“Didn’t have much in the way of culinary experience between the two of us,” Ezra says, frowning in concentration while cutting thin slices from a small wheel of cheese. Cee begins peeling a clove of garlic. “But we had plenty of time on our hands to learn–isn’t that right, birdie?”

“Yep. Can you believe I’d never even had this stuff before?” Cee asks, looking over her shoulder and holding up the peeled clove, and Joel shakes his head. “I had no idea what I was missing. Anyway. Ez here got really good at making cheese sandwiches and that kinda became our thing. Bad dream? Grilled cheese. Rough day? Grilled cheese.”

“Sometimes it seemed that was the only thing I could get you to eat with any regularity,” Ezra says.

“Yeah, well…some days were bad ,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“But…it got better.” Ezra looks over at her, and Joel can hear the uncertainty in his voice. It’s a question as much as a statement.

“Yeah,” she says, smiling. “Yeah, it did.”

Joel thinks of his early days in Jackson, Ellie’s nightmares, the gun under his mattress. The constant fear he was failing her. How they picked up the pieces and turned them into routines, rituals, things to get them through the hard days. Built something from two patched-together lives. Found their people.

Movie nights or grilled cheese sandwiches, they figured it out.

“This is cool,” Cee says to Ezra as they bring the food to the table. “I almost miss having you around here. Almost,” she teases.

“I’m sure it’s much–”

“Quieter?” Cee offers with a smirk, and Joel has to hide his own with a cough.

“I was going to say ‘less lively’ but fair enough,” Ezra mutters, then softens. “I’ll make dinner for you anytime, birdie. Just say the word.”

The food is good, but the company is better. Ezra and Cee carry the conversation while they eat and Joel lets them reminisce, contributing the occasional nod or grunt of agreement. If Cee thinks he’s quieter than usual, if she notices his eyes are still a little red, she’s kind enough not to mention it. More than anything, he wishes Tess could be here, wishes she could have had this, too.

At one point, Ezra takes his hand under the table, sensing his need for an anchor. He answers his questioning look with a squeeze, soaks in the sound of Cee’s bubbling laughter and the adoration in Ezra’s eyes, decides there might be something to Ezra’s words after all.

He may not deserve it, but he has it all the same. Shame to let it go to waste.

It’s late by the time they take their leave, bundling up at the door.

“Thanks for the sandwiches,” Cee says. “And for, y’know, not forgetting about me now that you’re all domesticated and shit.”

“I could never,” Ezra says, enfolding her in a tight, one-armed hug, offers his usual departing words of wisdom. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, birdie.”

“What, like get hitched?” she says drily.

Joel urges him out the door before that can fully sink in, has Ezra stopping in his tracks and turning around.

“Wait–”

“Relax, Ez,” Joel mutters.

“Did you–she said–”

“Uh-huh, I heard what she said.”

“But–”

“C’mon,” he says, tugging at his hand. “S’too fuckin’ cold out here.”

Ezra relents with a soft grumble, one last worried glance over his shoulder. Joel bites his lip on a smile. That girl sure knows how to push his buttons.

“Thank you for…indulging me,” Ezra says after covering some ground in silence. “I confess I…I don’t think I realized how much I missed our time together. It was just Cee and I for so long…”

“She still needs you,” Joel says, nudging him lightly before taking his hand. “An’ I don’t mind sharin’.”

The night is bitter cold and the wind forces them to hurry toward home. Ellie, loud and slightly drunk, if Joel had to guess, is just turning onto Rancher Street as they get there.

“Dudes! You missed a great party.”

She stumbles a little, giggles, and Joel reaches out to steady her.

“You owe me, fuckers. I covered for you. Even saved you some cake before the rest of the vultures got to it,” she says, just this side of slurring as she hands him a bundle of waxed cloth. “It’s super fucking good.”

“Uh-huh,” Joel says. “How much did you have to drink, kid?”

“Only three! Or wait…four, maybe? I dunno, Cat says m’a lightweight, whatever that means.”

“Three what? Fifths?” Joel asks incredulously.

“Just beer,” she wrinkles her nose. "Maria wouldn’t let me have the hard stuff even though I told her I can take it, that bi–”

“Gonna stop you right there,” Joel says, shooting Ezra a look over her head. Now it’s his turn to smother a laugh. “Remind me to thank her tomorrow.”

Ellie grunts and inserts herself between them, looping one arm through each of theirs for the short walk to the end of the street. She leans a little heavy on Joel’s arm, plunks her cheek on his shoulder. She’s running on beer and cake and probably not much else as they make it to the house.

“I’ll be right in, just, uh…gotta get this one settled,” he says to Ezra, handing him the cake.

“Hydrate, young prodigy,” Ezra advises her, and Ellie sticks out her tongue, follows it with a raspberry.

Joel walks Ellie into the garage room and she plops down on her bed with a grunt. Joel goes to the little standalone sink, fills a cup with water. By the time he places the cup on her nightstand, she’s already curled up on her side.

“C’mon, kid. Can’t sleep with your damn boots on.”

“Can too.”

Joel sighs and unlaces her boots, gently tugging until they come loose. She giggles, tries to help, only ends up kicking him in the arm, which makes her laugh harder.

“Wanna watch those space wars movies. Y’know, those ones with the robots? Are-too somethin’ and see-pee-oh.”

He cocks his head. “Y’mean Star Wars?”

“Yes! And the brother who kisses his sister,” she says, then laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Pew-pew, motherfuckers.”

“You’re full of it tonight,” he sighs, pulling the crumpled blankets out from under her and over her shoulders before kneeling by her side. “Think you need a bucket?”

“Nah,” she yawns. “M’fine.”

“Alright. Drink the water. I’ll check on ya in a bit.”

Before he can stand, her arm wiggles out from under the blanket and wraps around his shoulders, pulls him down into an awkward hug that melts him. He closes his eyes, holds her tight, drops a kiss in her hair.

“You’re goin’ soft, old man,” she mutters, but she’s still holding on.

“Uh-huh,” he says, throat tight. “Love you.”

When she finally pulls back, she smirks up at him with all the confidence of Han Solo.

“I know.”

Inside, Joel shucks off his coat to the sound of Ezra rummaging through the kitchen drawer. He’s unwrapped the cake Ellie saved, now slightly squished and sitting on the counter.

“Has our girl found the answers at the bottom of a bottle?”

“Found an attitude, more like. She’ll be fine, just needs to sleep it off. Still hungry?” Joel asks, nodding toward the cake.

“Ah. Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about,” Ezra says, bringing out a knife and aiming to cut a slice.

“Ain’t we supposed to do that together?”

Ezra’s grin is a slow, sweet spread thick as buttercream. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They share the knife and cut into the cake, Joel’s hand warm over Ezra’s. It’s an impressive dessert by Jackson standards. Real frosting–god knows where they found icing sugar–and the center has a layer of strawberry jam. Joel isn’t much for sweets, but he takes a bite when Ezra offers. It makes his teeth ache.

“I know you said no cake smashing, but–”

Before he can duck away, Ezra has swiped a fingertip of jam and smeared it lightly across Joel’s cheek. His eyes flash with mirth as he leans in, meaning to lick up the mess he’s made with the tip of his tongue.

It snaps the band of tension that’s been simmering all night.

Joel turns his head before Ezra can finish his cleanup and crashes their mouths together in an inelegant kiss. His hands find the collar of his fancy shirt and holds him, walks him back until he’s crowded against the counter and licks into him, tastes the remnants of vanilla sugar on his tongue. He only stops when Ezra yelps, having almost knocked the remaining cake off the counter in an effort to brace himself.

“Shit, sorry,” Joel pants, half laughing, half delirious with it, suddenly lighter than he’s felt all week.

Ezra grins, tongue darting out to wet kiss-swollen lips before cupping his cheek, leaning in to nip at him. “I suppose I did say I’d make it up to you. You’ve always been a touch…impatient.”

“ I’m impatient?” Joel growls, pressing his thigh tighter to the growing hardness between Ezra’s legs to emphasize the point. There’s still strawberry jam drying sticky on his cheek. He doesn’t care. “Finish your damn cake, Ez. Let’s go to bed.”

So they do, curled up naked under the quilt. There’s the hint of something more, something wanted, limbs entwined and hands exploring as they share slow, lazy kisses. What started as a fire mellowed somewhere between downstairs and the bedroom, and the pull of sleep is strong, exhaustion settling heavy around Joel’s shoulders. The mind is ready but the body is unwilling.

“Sorry,” he sighs into Ezra’s neck when it’s clear they’re not getting anywhere.

“No rush,” Ezra murmurs, stretching out with Joel’s head on his shoulder. “There’s time.”

They stay like that for a while, Joel drifting on the verge of sleep while Ezra strokes his hair. He finds himself thinking of Tess again, of all the moments they missed because they were too busy scraping by. How this was all she’d asked of him, and he’d turned her away because he couldn’t imagine deserving such a life.

“Songbird?” Ezra’s voice is a low rumble in his chest, and Joel tightens his grip, nuzzles closer.

“Mmm?”

“The other morning over breakfast…when you asked me if I wanted…something more…”

Joel’s stomach sinks. “Yeah.”

Ezra hesitates and the silence only serves to tighten the knot in Joel’s chest. He feels the jumpy thrum of Ezra’s heartbeat against his cheek, waiting for him to deliver the letdown. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rich and close to Joel’s ear, a whispered confession.

“I have never…had this. Men with my proclivities didn’t have a dearth of options before, and that became even less likely after…well. The life of a raider does not endeavor itself to…romantic entanglements. Not to say I’m inexperienced, but in matters of the heart I am woefully naive.”

In the dark, Joel can barely make out Ezra’s features, feels the tips of his fingers carding absently through his hair, skimming the shell of his ear, warming the back of his neck.

“Which is to say…I’ve known my share of lovers, certainly…but not…love.”

It takes a moment in Joel’s near-sleep-addled state to fully grasp his meaning. “Oh…”

Ezra tips his chin up, almost prideful. “I had long ago come to the conclusion that I wasn’t worthy of…something like this. I’d made my peace with that. You spoke of not being…deserving…and I know all too well what that’s like.”

His voice dips low, tugs at the meat of Joel’s heart.

“I don’t tell you this for pity’s sake,” Ezra continues. “Just to ensure you understand that I…this is…more than I could have hoped for, songbird. I don’t take this commitment lightly.”

Times like this, Joel wishes he was better with words. As it is, all he can manage is to grasp Ezra’s hand and hold on, press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I know,” he whispers. He’d been so caught up with his ghosts, he hadn’t stopped to consider Ezra might have some of his own.

Later, he’ll put on his sweatpants and boots and wrap himself in a robe and go outside to check on Ellie, peer in through the frosted glass pane to find her where he left her, curled in bed and sleeping soundly. But for now, he’s content to stay like this, wrapped in his husband’s embrace, sheltered from the cold.

Maybe they didn’t have to do it alone.

Joel wakes to a huff of breath against his shoulder, Ezra wrapped around him like a second blanket. He’s nuzzling at the base of his neck, tickling the hairs there, peppering his upper back with kisses.

“Songbird,” he hums, tightening his arm low around Joel’s hips, nipping at the muscle along the ridge of his shoulder, clearly hoping to finish what they started last night. In the light of day, with a good night’s sleep behind him and no plans for the morning, that looks all the more likely.

“M’awake,” Joel grunts, turning over, doesn’t even have time to open his eyes before their mouths meet, hungry and wanting. Ezra’s soft moan resonates between them, hips hitching slightly, already hard and pressed tight to Joel’s thigh. It’ll take a little longer for Joel to get there, but not by much.

“Do you remember when I first…had you in this bed?” Ezra asks, pulling back, panting slightly.

Joel swallows hard, nods, still dizzy from the kiss and blinking sleep from his eyes.

“How I took you apart on my tongue? Hmm?”

Ezra on his knees at the edge of the bed, Joel’s torso bared and his jeans around his ankles, in too much of a rush to fully undress, glow of the golden hour slanting through the window. The memory sparks a pang of longing so strong it physically aches, sends a groan rippling up from Joel’s throat and a pulse of heat through his gut.

The body is more than willing this morning.

“I remember thinking to myself…that I had never witnessed a sunset more beautiful…had never experienced the majesty of a billion stars in the bliss of night, or watched the arc of a dove across the morning sky…than when you reached the apex of your enjoyment.”

Joel can’t speak, can’t breathe, fixed in place by Ezra’s dark eyes and his husked voice as his fingers trace the hollow at Joel’s throat. Their noses touch, the last words felt as a featherlight brush against his lips as much as heard.

“And I thought…in my haze of pleasure…that I want to be the reason you look like that. I want to watch you come apart every damn day for the rest of forever. And I will be there to put you back together again.”

Anything Joel might have thought to say, inadequate as it would have been, is quickly swallowed by Ezra’s kiss. His tongue skirts the pout of his lower lip and then they’re sinking into each other, a consummation of Ezra’s unexpected vows.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes when they pull apart. “You stay awake all night comin’ up with that?”

Ezra arches an eyebrow, eyes shining. “Did it work?”

With an agility that surprises even himself, Joel growls deep in his chest and rolls Ezra under him, pinning his willing form with his weight. His mouth finds the hinge of Ezra’s jaw, the freckle behind his ear, the ridge of his collarbone. The want is back, that old friend, and he gives into it, lets it lead him.

Down, teasing the ridge of a pebbled nipple with his teeth, down, lapping at the hollow of his breastbone, down, dipping his tongue into the soft circle of his navel and swirling, eliciting a stifled gasp, stomach twitching.

“You know I’m ticklish, cher ,” Ezra huffs, and Joel grins, does it again just to make him squirm before soothing the overstimulation with a gentle, firm bite to the softness at the base of his stomach.

He drags his scruff along his Adonis belt, teasing him with the heat of his breath, the slick muscle of his tongue lapping, sucking a mark into the curve at his hip. He admires the flush on his skin where he’s bruised him, the red scratches his beard has left behind, revels in the lightly painful tug of Ezra’s fingers in his hair, urging him on.

When he finally takes him in, the familiar taste and weight of him on his tongue is almost as delicious as the sound Ezra makes. It’s a whimper, a breath of equal relief and anticipation, soothing the ache while stoking the fire. It’s a heady rush, that first taste, the salt-tang of him, an invitation to see how much pleasure he can wring from his body.

Joel looks up, finds Ezra watching him intently, hungrily, head cocked to one side, chest flushed and heaving. He has to admit, the view ain’t half bad, stokes the heat roiling in his belly, and he grinds down into the mattress to find some relief. He takes him deeper, traces the ridges and veins with his tongue on the way back up, revels in the broken sounds he draws from Ezra’s lips.

“Songbird–your mouth, divinity itself could–could not–ohhh–”

He cuts himself off with a moan as Joel’s tongue circles and flutters, as his free hand grips him at the base and begins a firm stroke to help things along.

When Ezra’s hand pulls away, seeking purchase in the tangled mess of their bedding, Joel grabs for it instead, reaches up to lace their fingers, resting them on Ezra’s stomach and lightly holding him down. The intimacy is almost too much.

“Oh, oh love, you–I’m–”

Joel pulls off, still stroking, teasing. “You gonna come?”

Another throaty whimper, back arching into it. It doesn’t take long, they’ve been dancing around this for hours. He watches as Ezra comes apart in his hand with a choked gasp, spilling over his knuckles and onto the wiry curls at the base of his stomach, a breathed oh oh yes oh , and the power is a heady, giddy rush.

Every damn day for the rest of forever, indeed.

He crawls up the bed and settles on his side, allowing himself a moment of smug self-satisfaction. He’ll never match Ezra’s eloquence or even his energy, but he can manage this. Have him blissed out and shuddering in his arms, gazing up at him from under dark lashes, rendered monosyllabic. Has him curling into him, lips pressed to Joel’s throat and mumbling in French, legs tangled, arm cinched around his waist. He can hold him through the come-down. Can love him the way he deserves.

There’s quiet in the aftermath, Ezra nuzzling tenderly at Joel’s throat. His voice is all grit when he speaks.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel smirks, absently rubbing the back of Ezra’s neck. “Like you needed a reason to talk.”

“You love it,” Ezra whispers, peppering small kisses across the ridge of Joel’s jaw.

“Hmm. Reckon I do.”

Ezra’s ministrations at his throat become more urgent, the graze of teeth and lips and tongue. Joel’s cock kicks against his stomach as Ezra sucks at his collarbone hard enough to leave a mark. His hand slips between them and then he’s teasing with his fingers, stroking him without pressure, cupping and petting him until he’s aching. Joel watches, drowsy with lust, as Ezra gathers his own slick spill in his palm before wrapping it around Joel’s cock to mingle with his precome, easing his movements considerably. The sight is enough to make him shudder. He thinks he hears Ezra murmur something over the rush of blood in his ears, something that sounds suspiciously like waste not, want not , and Joel thinks there’s still plenty of want to go around.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathes into Ezra’s neck, and it’s a syrupy hot slide into the tight wet clutch of his fist.

Joel lets himself sink into it, lets the tension coiling in his gut unfurl and bloom as Ezra strokes him. He fumbles for something to hold, hand finds the meat of Ezra’s ass, the back of a thigh, hears a low chuckle in his ear as he gasps and pulls him close. Soon he’s panting into the warm crevice of Ezra’s throat, unable to form more than hollow sounds of pleasure and want as Ezra works him through it.

“Like that?” he murmurs, the words like velvet, and Joel can barely manage a nod. Somehow his lips find Ezra’s and it’s a long, broken moan into his mouth as he feels the band at the base of his groin tightening, tightening, ready to snap. There’s only the sound of his own heavy breathing and the slick slide of Ezra’s hand on him and then he’s pulsing, throbbing, falling apart with a cry.

They’re tender and warm in the afterglow, taking advantage of a rare quiet morning to laze in bed while the sun rises, but Joel finds himself distracted, that nagging doubt creeping in to fill the space created by their lovemaking.

“Tell me about her,” Ezra murmurs, sensing his disquiet. “Tess.”

He hesitates.

“You sure?”

Ezra kisses him softly. “Memory poses no threat to my affections, songbird.”

It should be awkward, Joel thinks, but the words come easily. She’s been at the forefront of his mind for so many days, it’s a relief to lay it all out.

And when he’s told him as much as he can remember, and the sun is much higher in the sky, Ezra strokes his cheek with his thumb and offers a simple truth.

“I have her to thank for your being here.”

And he does, Joel supposes.

For giving him one last kick in the ass.

For insisting he carry her hope for a cure, a future, and a life beyond the QZ.

For giving him a daughter.

For giving him a second chance.

He cups Ezra’s face in his hands, kisses him soundly, and silently promises he won’t let it go to waste.

#joel miller x ezra prospect #the last of us fanfic #prospect fanfic #joel x ezra #ellie williams #cee prospect #tess servopolous #tommy miller #i know you by heart #songbird #in my feels about these two

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