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pedrointofolklore · 1 year ago

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This is me trying

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel hated you. he hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. he hated how much he worried about you. click here for part two.

warnings: detailed depictions of depression, heavily implied suicidal ideation, slight violence, angst with a sprinkle of fluff, no explicit smut but it does get very suggestive (minors do not interact), minor character death, enemies to lovers, poor communication, misunderstandings, these fools don’t know how to act, joel is an asshole but then he’s sweet, brief mention of drug use, lots of swearing, age gap (unspecified), no use of y/n, boston era/ellie era.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: hey y’all. i just wanted to thank everyone who supported my last story rosebud (here’s a link if you want to read it). this story is a lot different and a lot sadder. i got the title from my favourite pop girlie taylor alison swift.

Joel hated you. It had to be his worst kept secret.

You hadn’t done anything to him. You used to think about it constantly, desperate to know what his reason was for despising you like he did, but you eventually accepted that he didn’t need a reason. He just didn’t like you.

Joel wasn’t particularly likeable himself. He was rude and intimidating and one of the most morally bankrupt people you’d ever met, but you didn’t hate him the way he hated you. You were Tess’s lackey—Joel tolerated you, and you supposed he wasn’t obligated to do any more than that. Although, he didn’t do it very well.

You’d existed in each other’s orbit in the QZ for a while, and finally met one night in the boarded-up old mall when you’d gotten to a stash of painkillers just before them. Joel wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot you between the eyes if Tess hadn’t been there.

Tess saw something in you—not a friend, not a life worth sparing by virtue of humanity; a business investment.

And it was a smart investment. You were young, agile and clever, incredible at slipping by unnoticed and gathering information. You knew all the best routes, the best times to take them, and you could swindle anyone out of their rations just by batting your eyelashes. You were willing to take the lead, to be the first one in and out to make sure the coast was clear.

It wasn’t the threat of death or the promise of mercy that made you join them—it was the sense of purpose it gave you.

Joel was adamantly against it. Things worked fine the way they did them, and he saw no reason to add another person into it.

“Don’t need to fix something that ain’t broken,” was how he’d put it.

You didn’t dispute that. Joel and Tess had survived for years, and they were clearly more than capable of getting the job done, but what you lacked in experience, you made up for in stealth and speed—something their aging knees struggled with.

Tess convinced Joel, which you soon found out she was very good at. You also found out that his compliance didn’t mean hiding his resentment.

He thought you were a careless, impulsive loose cannon, and he’d told you so after a particularly dicey deal with a particularly dicey FEDRA agent.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.” He followed you into your apartment uninvited. Tess made him walk you home, and you were sure he only did it because he wanted to berate you.

“Why do you care?” you asked, tossing your keys onto the counter. They slid off and hit the floor.

“You’re with us,” Joel replied. “You'll get us killed.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes—you knew that infuriated him. “Am I on crack or have you not doubled your profits since I showed up?”

“I think you’re dangerous,” Joel said, ignoring you. “Always sneakin’ around, goin’ places you shouldn’t, playin’ mind games with FEDRA. Your luck’s gonna run out sooner or later, and I just hope I’m not around when it does.”

Your face burned with red-hot anger as you tried to fight the stinging in your eyes and the blurring of your vision, but you were too far gone. The tears fell, and they were ceaseless. You felt pathetic, but you knew this would happen. You didn’t often cry from sadness or pain, but anger always managed to bring it out in you.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that?” you hissed. “You’re saying you don’t sneak around? You’ve never scammed anyone? You’re a smuggler, Joel! Be fucking real with me.”

“It’s different,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“Why, because you’re older? Because you have more experience?”

“‘Cause I don’t think I’m fuckin’ special.”

If his words were the dagger, the pure contempt in his tone was what plunged it into your stomach, twisted it, and left a gaping hole for all of your despair to come pouring out of, leaving behind a puddle of melancholia for him to gaze at in all its miserable glory.

It was the only time you might have hated Joel as much as he hated you. Working with him and Tess wasn’t perfect, but it was all you had, and now he’d managed to make it all meaningless. Your help wasn’t helping.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat.

You should have quit then, and you thought about it. After pounding your fists into Joel’s chest and screaming at him to get the fuck out of your apartment, you sunk down onto the floor and cried. You cried until you ran out of tears and were left with a nothing but a throbbing headache. You took a pill, passed out, and woke up to you discover that you’d lost the energy to really care about any of it.

You didn’t quit. If anything, you became even more audacious, but you never confused it with courage or bravery. Bravery was perseverance in the face of terror. Joel and Tess were brave. You weren’t like them.

Joel laid off after that. He wasn’t anything close to nice, but whatever animosity he held towards you was only ever expressed as quiet seething, and you could live with that.

Any fulfilment you got out of working with Joel and Tess dissolved, but for what it was, it still worked.

Until it didn’t.

Tess was dead. The buffer between you and Joel was gone, and you had no choice but to work together and get the immune girl to Wyoming.

You wondered if there was a silver-lining in this wreckage. You thought that circumstance might force Joel to finally get along with you, and so you did the one thing you never did—you tried. You tried to help him, tried to speak to him like he was someone you actually wanted to speak to, tried to rein in some of your more annoying traits so you wouldn’t get on his nerves.

None of it worked. All you could get out of Joel seemed to be irritated mumbles and blank stares, and you couldn’t even blame him after what happened to Tess.

You never really knew if Tess actually gave a shit about you, or if she only ever cared about having an extra pair of hands around. Either way, you cared about her.

So, once again, you tried. When Joel and Ellie were sleeping—or at least pretending to—you walked down to the stream and tried to cry for her, but you couldn’t muster the tears. You even tried to get angry, mentally cuss her out for leaving you behind, but your eyes were dry.

You stared into the water, gazing at the way it sparkled in the starlight, and thought that the world didn’t deserve such a pretty sight. You couldn’t cry, but a deep sadness overtook you, weighing you down like lead.

Joel didn’t hate you.

He just hated how impulsive and reckless you were. He hated that you were smart, intuitive, and so maddeningly beautiful. He hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. He hated how much he worried about you.

There was a time he had disliked you. He used to think it was arrogance—that you truly believed you were so special that you could get away with anything. It was when he called you out on it that he realised how wrong he was.

Your reaction was frightening. You cried and screamed at him, pushed him out of your space. He didn’t know you were capable of such a strong display of emotion, but he’d struck a nerve, and those were the repercussions.

He recalled how the blows to his chest didn’t hurt, like there was no force behind them. You weren’t weak at all, you just couldn’t find the willpower to really hurt him. He wished you had hurt him. Maybe getting it out of your system would have helped. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to feel so guilty.

It became so obvious to him what was happening, and he felt like an idiot for not understanding it sooner. It wasn’t that you thought you were special, or immune to the consequences—you just didn’t care what happened to you.

Now Tess was gone, and he had this horrible feeling that he was going to lose you too.

His way of dealing with it was to push you away even more. He told himself it would make things easier when you inevitably left him.

Things came to a head one night after the three of you left Lincoln. Joel had been driving all day, and he would be doing it again the next day. He was in desperate need of sleep, but as he stared out into the eerie darkness of the woods, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible would happen if he didn’t stay awake.

He heard the rustling of a sleeping bag sometime after midnight. He thought it was you just rolling over in your sleep—something you often did—but then he heard the faint sound of dead leaves crunching under feet, and you were by his side a moment later.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you asked in a soft, sleepy voice that made his chest ache.

“Keepin’ watch,” he replied bluntly.

“But you’re driving tomorrow,” you said. “You need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve slept, so I can take over,” you offered.

“I just told you I’m fine.”

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

You backed off, hanging your head in shame, and he instantly felt horrible—you were being nice to him and he was still being a complete asshole.

Joel tried to tear his gaze away from you. He wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening, that he hadn’t just done that, but his eyes stayed on you. He watched the shame dissolve and replace itself with indignation. You pulled your head up and glared at him with a fire in your eyes that threatened to burn right through him.

“I get it, okay? I’m sorry.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I never meant for you to get stuck with me. I know it’s your worst fucking nightmare. If I could switch places with Tess—“

“Stop.” He wouldn’t hear that. He couldn’t. It would kill him. “That’s not—I’m not thinkin’ that. I’m glad you’re here, understand? I need you with me.”

You let out a bitter laugh. The sound hit his ears like a gunshot. “You just told me you didn’t. All you’ve done—all you’ve ever done—is act like I’m a fucking waste of space.”

Joel’s mouth when dry, his heart dropped to his stomach, and he thought he might vomit. It shouldn’t have shocked him like it did, but hearing you say it made him sick. He put the gun he’d been clutching down on the ground, disarming himself in more ways than one. “I don’t think that…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just—fuck—I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Are you gonna leave?”

“Leave this mission or this mortal coil?"

“Either, I guess.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Your voice was just a whisper, and it felt like you were ripping Joel’s heart out and crushing it in your hands.

Fuck no, he didn’t want you to leave, and that was what scared him the most; feeling attached to someone so detached (and yes, he was a hypocrite). He wouldn’t be able to take it if he woke up one day and you were gone.

But he couldn’t keep doing this to you. It was selfish and cowardly and it just made everything worse. He made everything worse.

“I can’t do this without you,” he told you. He hadn’t known how true it was until he said it.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.” He felt suddenly impassioned. “You can’t…if you…just don’t. Promise me you won’t.” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t let the words out of his mouth and into the universe. You both knew what he meant.

“I promise,” you said. You sounded oddly tranquil, but Joel was destroyed, even though he knew he didn’t have the right to be—this was entirely his fault.

“Can you let me keep watch so you can get some sleep?” you asked again.

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Just need to know where you are.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and glossy, and for a second he thought you might start crying. Before he could think of something to do or say, your hands were on either side of his face, pulling him down into an urgent kiss.

He didn’t know what was happening, what you were thinking, or what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter, he just knew he needed to kiss you back. One of his hands found your waist while the other splayed out across your back, pulling you flush against him.

It was nowhere near sweet. It was intense and unyielding—a frantic clashing of teeth and bruising of lips. It was intoxicating, earth-shattering, but felt so right, like it was always meant to happen—or needed to happen.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, somehow bringing him impossibly closer to you. You hiked a leg up around his hip and tugged his pelvis forward. He ran a hand down from your waist, brushing it over your ass and gripping your thigh.

You rolled your hips into his, eliciting a deep, involuntary groan from him. He was painfully hard. He knew he would regret this, but he set your leg down and managed to tear his mouth away from yours.

He missed the feeling immediately, and he didn’t have the self-control to pull away completely. His hands were still on you, pressing you against him. You looked so pretty and ruined gazing back at him; breathless and flustered with pink, swollen lips.

Fuck.

You had just kissed Joel Miller, the man you hated.

You didn’t hate him.

You kissed the man who hated you.

He didn’t hate you.

You kissed the only person you had left. You kissed him even though it made no sense. You kissed him because you wanted to.

You started it, but then he stopped it. His eyes were dark, his face was flushed, and the bulge in his jeans was not going away. He looked like he was in pain, struggling with his own conscience.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” He grinned softly and reached a hand up to tangle in your hair. It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture. “I liked it.”

Your heart melted. He was so lovely, so dear. You never imagined in your wildest dreams that Joel Miller could be like this.

“Just don’t wanna take advantage,” he said.

“You’re not. I kissed you,” you reminded him.

“I know, but you're upset, and you don’t like me much, and you’re tired. Don’t want you doing anything you don’t actually wanna do.”

You did want it, but you were also overwhelmed and exhausted, and more importantly, it would have been a majorly fucked up thing to do with a 14 year old sleeping 20 feet away.

“But if you still want it later”—he gave you another chaste kiss—“you can have it.”

You giggled, kissing him one more time. You didn’t know when you'd be able to again.

His gentle smile faded, and he looked into your eyes with devastating sincerity. “I got you now, okay?”

“I know, Joel.”

“Do you have me?” he asked.

“I’m trying.” You hoped that would be enough, because it was all you had.

“That’s all I need, sweetheart.”

a/n: so i wrote most of this when i was sick with the flu and i fully intended for it to be a one-shot, but i love this dynamic and i’m thinking of exploring it further. let me know if y’all would be interested in seeing more of these two. (edit: this a/n is now redundant bc i did in fact write the sequel).

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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everydayyoulovemeless · 7 months ago

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Hi! If you are still taking requests, I'd love a head cannon with marrying the companions at the castle, and how they would feel? Thank you for considering this! ❤️

Marrying the Fo4 Companions at the Castle

➼ Word Count » 1.7k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Romantic ➼ A/N » I didn't add Codsworth because I couldn't stop thinking about Nate/Nora dying and then their spouse remarrying their butler. Felt too awkward😭

MacCready never imagined that he'd ever find someone who would love him as much as Lucy did and still know of his entire past. It makes him hopeful that Duncan could actually get a second partner to rely on in the future. He's never been too close with any of the Minutemen but, I imagine if he had to pick he'd choose them as his preferred faction. So, being married at the Castle wouldn't be an issue for him, but he'd get married just about anywhere as long as it meant you'd be the one he got to marry. It's one of the only times he doesn't intentionally pick a fight with Preston as he desperately wants his help with making him look his best. He knows he won't steer him wrong, since he's so close to you. He's so fidgety and nervous, but couldn't be more thrilled to devote the rest of his life to you.

Nick doesn't mind getting married at the Castle. If you'd asked him, he would've suggested the All Faiths Chapel, but in hindsight, the Castle seems a tad more appropriate for the two of you. Especially, when you consider that most of your loved ones are either already there or close enough in range to reach it safely. He cleans himself up quite nicely for the occasion, having Sturges help polish off his body's more visible aspects. He's a sucker for vintage weddings, and if you could somehow convince either Strong or a group of Minutemen soldiers to move one of those old cars into the venue, he'd consider proposing to you all over again.

Cait couldn’t care less where you two got married. She’s just glad that she’s going to marry you at all. Even if the Minutemen get on her nerves, she can’t help but find herself teary-eyed at the thought that you love her enough to even want to marry her. Even if it's almost certain that she's going to get into an argument of some sort with one of the faction members, she's still going to do her best to get along with everyone at the venue and make it fun for the both of you. She's never been a big fan of weddings and would prefer it if you only invited a small number of people, but besides that, she'll do her best to be as vulnerable with you as she possibly can on this day. Her being completely upfront and honest with you about how she feels is the least she could do after everything you've both been through together. It's the most emotional you have ever, and probably will ever see again.

There aren't many places at the Boston Airport that make sense to use for a venue so, Danse understands why the Castle is where you'd want to hold it. Even if they aren't Brotherhood, Danse still holds a lot of respect for the Minutemen soldiers and wouldn't mind playing nice if it meant making this day more memorable for you. He might even come to find that him and Sturges have a lot more in common than he initially thought. With them both being interested in power armor and whatnot. Danse is sorta like a puppy when it comes to these things, anywhere you want to go and anything you want to do, he's fully on board with. The location doesn't matter to him, as long as he's able to slip a ring on your finger. He's mainly just glad to be apart of your life in such a meaningful way and he hopes it'll stay that way for a long time to come.

Preston couldn't be happier to share this moment with you in a place he holds in such high regard. Especially since everyone he cares about is right here with you both in this moment. There’s nowhere more perfect in his mind and he’s overjoyed to be able to marry you despite the world being so tainted. It makes him that much more determined to defend the Commonwealth knowing that there are people like you still living in it. He does everything in his power to make the day go as smoothly as you could ever hope. He doesn't rest until the venue looks just as you described it to him, every little detail you dreamed about to him set in stone before your big day. Nothing is out of place, and he can't wait to see your expression when you see the effort he put into it all.

Piper had always been too enamored in her work to really consider a day when she'd get married to someone. She surprises herself when she agrees to commit herself to you for the rest of her life but, she supposes it's a welcomed one. The Castle would not have been her first choice when thinking of places to get married. If it were up to her, she would've picked somewhere on the coast. So, the two of you compromise and do it just outside the Castle on the sandy parts of the territory. She finds it to be much nicer on the outskirts, especially with the soft sound of the waves in the background. Nat makes the perfect flower girl for the occasion and she makes sure you're feeling more laid-back about the day rather than stressed. A light-hearted, casual wedding on the beach is all she could ever want.

Curie is so excited to wear a white dress! She’s read about this ritual before, but being able to partake in it is something she finds lovely! She couldn't care less where it happens, as long as the two of you can make it as accurate to the pre-war version as you can. She'll spend hours rambling to the Minutemen soldiers about all sorts of different topics out of being so nervous, but luckily for her, they're kind enough to just let her talk. Being able to experience something that holds such high importance to couples helps her to feel more human in her new body. There are so many different things she wants to do to further implement her as a person, and what better way to start than by getting married?

Strong doesn’t want to get married. It didn’t seem to work out all that well with Macbeth, so why would he want that for himself? Can’t you be a unit together without all your weird human rituals? Besides, there's no way anyone would ever get him into a classier outfit.

Hancock would’ve preferred to have married you in Goodneighbor since it's his home and everyone he planned to invite is there. But he's honestly so head over heels for you that he’d marry you in the glowing sea if that’s what you desired. He'll just ask to have two weddings instead of one, that way both of your 'families' can witness it without it being too much of a hassle. He's actually kinda glad your first wedding will be held at the Castle because he can't tie a tie to save his life, and Preston is way nicer about it than anyone in Goodneighbor would be. This way, he can learn and not be teased about it every time he walks into his own town, and Preston promises to keep his secret for him.

Deacon feels uncomfortable about getting married in front of everyone. He’d rather you go somewhere where it’s only you two and slide a ring on each other's fingers after saying your vows. No crowd, no long tradition. He's really nervous about the wedding, especially since it's being held in a place that means so much to you and to everyone else in the Minutemen. He wants to make this special, but his fear of being vulnerable is slowly killing him. He's so afraid that he'll get to the front of the makeshift alter and make a fool of himself. He's so shaky that you almost have to go over and ask how he's doing. He'll do it for you, just know he's having a few drinks beforehand to encourage his more charismatic side out of him. If that doesn't prove his love for you, I don't know what does.

X6-88 would hate it but would be surprisingly quiet about it for your sake. He thinks the Castle is disgusting, and he doesn’t particularly like the Minutemen, even if you are the general, but he wants this to be your day and so he’ll marry you where you want. The Institute would’ve been cleaner, and he could’ve arranged nicer decorations, but he supposes it doesn’t matter, as it’ll be him putting a ring on you either way. He can look forward to that, at least.

Old Longfellow would be pretty open about not wanting to get married there. He wants to compromise a little bit with you, as all of his closest friends are in Far Harbor and all of yours are in the Commonwealth. If anything he’d prefer to marry you in a place somewhere in the middle of those two places. You'll have to sit down with him and decide on a place that works for both of you and, if you can't find one, he has no issue just being with you. He's a firm believer in not needing to be married to prove your love for your partner. So, if that's how it ends up being, that's how it'll be.

Gage never imagined he’d ever get married, let alone at a Minutemen settlement. What were the odds? It’d take a lot of convincing to get Preston to agree to let you get married to a raider in the Castle. He gets slight flashbacks to Quincy at the thought of someone like him entering Minutemen territory so freely. But, as much as he disproves your relationship, he’ll let go of his grudge for the day so you two can get married. Security is amped up like crazy though. Gage personally doesn’t care where he gets married as long as it’s not in Nuka-World. The gang members aren’t too fond of the ritual and will begin to look down on both of you for participating in something so “classy”. It’s best if they don’t know.

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mortimermcmirestinks · 7 months ago

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a complete list

so we got the following already:

AFAB = assigned female at birth

AMAB = samesies but for the bros

ACAB = fuck them pigs

AHAB = guy who wants to fuck and/or kill a sperm whale

so I'm gonna give you the other 22. ready? let's go

AAAB: the muuuscle in your miiidseeection

ABAB: 🔥🔥swedish band typo🔥🔥

ACAB: fuck them pigs

ADAB: world's most rad dance move

AEAB: assigned evil at birth

AFAB: doctor said you were a dame right when you slunk out the pusspuss

AGAB: what the doctor said you was when you slopped on outta the verjubit

AHAB: from hell's heart I tap that cetacean or whatever I never read it

AIAB: all investigators are bisexual

AJAB: a friendly poke

AKAB: all kops are bastardz

ALAB: like asexual but for science experiments instead of sexual attraction. short for "alaboratory"

AMAB: doctor said you were a bloke the second you shot out of the ol' utero cannon

ANAB: someone very sneakily trying to name their D&D character after a banana. don't let them get away with it

AOAB: desperately trying to remember the official Maori name for New Zealand but I'm so so bad at spelling

APAB: assigned pussy magnet at birth

AQAB: the guy from the new GAY version of Moby Dick. this version's called Moby Pronouns. the woke agenda has gone too far!!!!!

ARAB: an ethnic group mainly inhabiting the ARAB world in West Asia and North Africa. A significant ARAB diaspora is present in various parts of the world. Arabs have been in the Fertile Crescent for thousands of years. In the 9th century BCE, the As

ASAB: ahh!! stinkyyy!!! aww, baby

ATAB: the thing you start at a bar when you don't want to pay up right away. ALTERNATE JOKE: the thing you hit to go to the next cell in Excel

AUAB: sound a turtle makes when it's ramming ham

AVAB: only known word to be a perfect anagram of both "balaclava" AND "baklava"

AWAB: assigned weeb at boston

AXAB: amnestic XK-class anomalous being

AYAB: alla youse are bullshit

AZAB: mystery option. nobody knows what this one is. if you know what this one is, send your knowledge to the Pentagon and they will send you a shiny American penny.

glad to help out!! just playing my small role in the queer community. fuck cops also

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howtotrainabraincell · 3 months ago

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Sweet head cannons about different Assassin's Creed characters

Henry Green: This man knows his flowers and does he ever spoil you with them. Whether they're given directly or left around for you to find, they always have sweet meanings and divulge his feelings for you in beautiful, colorful, little ways.

A pink rose once you two have known each for a time, symbolizing his vow of love and his desire to grow old with you. His hand was slightly shaking when he gifted it to you before he spoke gently to you in Punjabi, before telling you that he loves you and wishes to marry you in English. You both shed tears of happiness when you got engaged. It would be years later but when you learn enough Punjabi you would realize that he had told you "I wish to spend the rest of my life with you".

I have a feeling that he remembers the small things. If you two are out to meet a contact for information or out collecting intelligence for the Brotherhood, and you come across a store window where a beautiful cameo is on display, when you express appreciation for it or make a comment about how beautiful it is, he will remember that. Say this is in January....this man will surprise you with it months later on your birthday.

Malik Al Sayf: The thing about Malik kissing you if you are an assassin vs if you're not an assassin is this...he wants to, but it can be tricky. If you are an assassin, he'll kiss you on the cheek the same way all assassins greet each other and bid you 'Safety and Peace' as he would normally do with his fellow assassins, as he doesn't want to give any headway to any rumors about you two. But it's complicated. If he doesn't kiss you then questions will be asked (by Altair OFC who else?) but if he does kiss you, he has to be careful to not be too quick - to seem as though he has a crush and is flustered/he can't stand you (which is NOT true as you are literally the only person, he CAN stand lol). Then there's also the kissing you for too long bc he'll seem romantically interested (OH BOY IS HE) but he can't reveal that as much as he wants to.

Have a feeling the man is an overthinker haha.

If this is before Al Mualim that is - afterward he'll kiss you without a care and if Altair says anything he'll threaten to throw a knife at him lol. If you're not an assassin though, why would he have reason to kiss you??? But you better believe that he'll come out of nowhere when you're minding your own business, whisk you off somewhere where you two can't be seen and kiss you breathless.

Haytham Kenway: He seems like the kind of lover to be gone a lot, but he really tries to make up for it when he comes home. He understands that gifts and surprises don't make up for his absence - although each gift sent is silent sincere apology - but even if he's not there he'll provide for you.

I don't know why...but something tells me that the man gets matching things for you two. If you're wearing a blue dress, he's wearing a suit in the same color and you two always look very dashing whether apart or together.

You could wake up one morning expecting another day at home, when Haytham has instructed the household to make a nice to go breakfast for you and then for the groom to take you horse riding so you can get out of the house for a little bit. With Templar protection of course he's not taking any chances. He may also arrange a day in Boston for you to go shopping and stay in the city to unwind for a bit. Expect gifts to be delivered when he's away. He'll have a dress made for you and have it sent a week after he leaves with a sweet letter alongside it as well. A flower delivery a few days later. He even surprised you with a spaniel puppy once.

#assassins creed #ac: syndicate #ac1 #henry green #malik al sayf #ac3 #haytham kenway #assassin's creed drabbles #assassins creed x reader #henry green x reader #malik al sayf x reader #haytham kenway x reader

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hothothotch · 1 year ago

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𝒂𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

since i'm getting lost between my own stories, i decided to organize them in a masterlist that will be fixed on my profile.

so, behold: the aaron hotchner x reader multiverse!

requests:

'Til I See You Again: Reader was a part of Aaron's first case, and they meet again after years. TW: they flirt.

Breaking Hearts: Set on S03E20/S04E01. Reader is a BAU Agent and is mistreated by Hotch on behalf of Kate Joyner. TW: angst, fluff, 5.3 k words.

Midnight Snacks: Aaron catches you and Jack having midnight snacks! TW: fluff.

Don't You Say You're in Love: Your and Aaron's daughter pretends she's not dating someone... until Aaron meets the guy. TW: Hotch being a Dad.

Friends In The Corner: When Jack is bullied for having pink polish on, Aaron decides to help boost his confidence... by doing the same. TW: Hotch being the cutest Dad in the world.

Courage: When your father discovers about your and Aaron's situationship, Aaron stands by you. TW: protective Aaron, swearing.

series:

(𝑰 𝑷𝒖𝒕 𝒂) 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝑶𝒏 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑨𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒓 (coming soon)

SUMMARY: in which a witch hoping to fulfill a promise ends up falling in love with the absolute man she wasn’t supposed to

PAIRING: beast! Aaron Hotchner x witch!Fem Reader

WARNINGS: story loosely based on Beauty and The Beast’s plot, but with a few (read: a lot) changes. Magic. Grief. I think that’s it.

LOVE IS ON THE RADIO! (coming soon)

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x Famous Fem! Reader

SUMMARY: it’s common knowledge that the closest Aaron Hotchner always got from listening songs was his old Beatles’ album that played on repeat in his car — that is, until you stumble over him during one of his workouts.

T/W: fluff in its purest form; reader is a singer; fluff again; talks about cases; a lot of McFly songs being mentioned for no apparent reasons; fluff; reader pretends to be a normal girl (but that obviously doesn’t work — oh look, another McFly song); fluff; potential angst; media harassment; fluff; age gap (reader is 30 and Aaron’s 41, but the age is not so important, so feel free to change it as you want); fluff.

𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 | 𝚊𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚎𝚛 (ongoing)

SUMMARY: after ten years dormant, The Boston Reaper attacks again in the dead of night, one day after Tom Shaunessy's — the officer to whom the case was initially given — passing. having inherited the case from Shaunessy (read: having stolen the case from the Boston PD), the only thing Aaron Hotchner wants is to get the killer and finally put an end to his history of endless murders. but when he unexpectedly bonds with a surviving victim, it's not only Aaron's desire to do the job that drives him but the urge to protect the only person that saw in him something he couldn't see anymore.

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Latin American Reader

TW: talks about stabbing (it's Foyet, after all); actual stabbing. Specific triggers written on the chapters.

𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓾𝓷𝓾𝓼𝓾𝓪𝓵 | 𝓪𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓷𝓮𝓻 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 (ongoing)

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Fem Reader

SUMMARY: aaron hotchner knows that when you’re not in a relationship with someone, it’s not unusual to see the person you’re smitten with (but won’t admit) falling in love again and again and again… for someone else. but when his feelings start to grow too much and become a bit too obvious, maybe he should start marveling the idea of making it known.

TW: fluff, a lot of fluff. comments about cases (possible spoilers). aaron being jealous, a lot. reader has a brief (like, one chapter) relationship with derek. cannon typical cm content. other warnings on its respective chapters :D

one-shots:

𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 | 𝒂𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒏𝒆𝒓

SUMMARY: you’ve been working as Jack Hotchner’s babysitter for the past two years, but as your wedding day gets closer and closer, you start questioning if you’re taking the right step — or if you should jump into the abyss of feelings you developed for you boss, Aaron Hotchner.

PAIRING: Aaron Hotchner x Female Babysitter Reader

TW: fluff, really, a lot of fluff. except for the beginning, that’s is pretty much angst (i think?). there’s a small suggestive comment towards the middle of it, but i don’t think it can be considered NSFW (let me know if it does).

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner requests

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anonsturniolo · 3 months ago

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matt in love with bsf!reader head cannons ✧₊⁺

♡ྀི bsf!matt who loves to listen to you ramble, even if it is the same topic you’ve talked about before. he just finds comfort in your voice, and watching the way your lips move.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who slowly gets touchy with you. going from friendly hugs in greeting and departure, to a hand on your waist while you show him a tiktok on your phone that you could’ve easily sent him. his favorite is leaning his head on to your shoulder, and you mindlessly start to play with his hair and scratch his scalp.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who teases you for liking “basic” music, but secretly has a playlist hidden in his spotify to listen to when you aren’t there. he wants to know all of the songs you enjoy so he can sing along and surprise you.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who watches rom coms with you, no matter how many times you’ve seen them already. he loves the way you admire love, and takes mental notes for when or if he ever gets the courage to tell you how he feels.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who nearly has a heart attack the first time you kissed him on the cheek. you hadn’t seen him in awhile and missed him so bad, it just happened. he was cooked.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who gets cuteness aggression and has to hold his bodily reaction in until you turn around. jaw dropped, gripping his hair nearly falling to his knees. he’d love nothing more than to be able to smother you in kisses and to tell you how adorable you are.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who wants to fly you out every time he goes to Boston. he wants you to meet his family, see where he grew up, and most importantly; meet trevor.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who is always down to go to your place. he hates sharing you with nick and chris, so if he goes to yours, that problem goes away. don’t get him wrong though, he absolutely loves how close you are with his brothers. he just wishes he could steal you away 99.99% of the time.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who always tries to steer you away from relationships. every time you talk about a guy, he finds a way to make them sound like nothing compared to him. he knows if you find someone you really like, he’s screwed.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who confessed to his feelings in a letter he actually mailed to your house. he had the decency to act surprised when you showed up to his place at 1 am, tears streaming down your face with the letter clutched in your hand.

♡ྀི bsf!matt who muttered “fucking finally.” the first time you two kissed, the letter soon dropped to the floor of his bedroom with the rest of your clothes.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut

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atinylittlepain · 2 years ago

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I've Got You - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

joel miller masterlist

She and Joel are partners in business. Nothing more. But they’ll both have to come to terms with this lie they’ve been telling themselves when something unspeakable happens.

warnings | 18+ angst, very dark themes (near SA, canon-typical violence), smut

Joel was difficult to talk to, so it was a good thing she didn’t have much to say. She figured that’s why they worked so well together.

She had been in the Boston QZ since she was a teenager, since the beginning of all this really. Had set up a solid business in smuggling, finding it easy to go out into the open since she had nothing to lose, all her family gone in the first few days of the outbreak. It had hardened her, being on her own for so long, so when she found out she had competition from two newcomers, she was quick to make Joel’s and Tess’ acquaintance, knife in hand. If it hadn’t been for Tess’ diplomatic nature, she’s certain her and Joel would have killed each other then and there, two loose cannons butting heads. But, they had worked it out, merging their “business” and soon enough, they were the predominant smugglers of Boston, exerting a wide and powerful influence when they needed to.

Tess handled the deals, while she and Joel handled the actual runs. They could both go days without speaking, trailing each other along the crumbling highways, filling their packs with salvaged goods to take back. She didn’t know much about him, just that he had lost something big, just like her, just like most folks still alive. But they were comfortable with each other, an unwavering trust that had developed over months of successful jobs.

They were wrapping up another successful trip, about two day’s out from the QZ. They’d stop at Bill and Frank’s tomorrow, get a trade in before heading back. Night was starting to slip over the woods and they had set up camp in a thicket of trees. She took the first watch while Joel hunched into the side of his sleeping bag, trying to get some sleep. She blames it on herself, really, for letting her guard down when she should’ve been on alert. But they had never run into trouble in this area, and, to be quite honest, she was fucking exhausted after five days on the road. Even sitting up, hands around her shins, she was starting to fade in and out of sleep.

That didn’t last long though, when suddenly she was being yanked up and back by her hair. Her shriek was cut off quick by a knife being pressed flat against her throat. She could feel the man’s beard scratching against the side of her face as he held her up against him. There were two others, one of whom had his gun trained on Joel who had been startled awake by the sound. Hunters, from the looks of them.

Joel had sat up, holding his palms out, his eyes darting between the mouth of the gun and her. The man with the gun spoke first.

“Don’t want no trouble, pal.” She could see the muscles in Joel’s cheek tick as he sized the man up.

“Doesn’t look that way to me, pal.” The man holding her up chuckled.

“Now, now, no need to get all worked up. Just gonna want some of whatever you got in those packs.” He paused for a moment, bringing his other hand to caress down the side of her body. She shuddered under his sickening touch. “And maybe a little turn with your girl here.”

Joel was on his feet fast at that, but the other two men moved quick to grab hold of him. He struggled in their grip but the one punched him, hard, in the stomach, forcing him to double over.

She writhed under the man’s grip but he pressed the blade firmer into her throat.

“Easy, little bird. Why don’t you and I go have some alone time, huh? And if you’re real nice to me, I’ll think about not blowing your boyfriend’s brains out? That sound good to you?” She huffs as he jostles her in his grip, keeping a sneer across her face even though she nods. What the fuck else can she do?

“Be right back, gentlemen. Don’t y’all go nowhere.” He hoists her around, shoving her forward until they’re deeper into the woods, the glow of their camping lantern just a speck amongst the trees. He throws her down to the ground, quick to straddle her hips, pressing a knee into each of her wrists to keep her prone underneath him. There’s a rushing in her ears and her whole body’s shaking as he wrenches her jeans and underwear down her thighs. The man grunts behind her.

“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t ya? Think I ought to leave you with a little souvenir of our time together, huh?” She has no clue what he means, his voice sounding muffled as her mind continues to go hazy. But then there’s a searing pain in her low back and she realizes he’s carving something into her skin. She lets out a broken scream but he cuts her off by shoving a wad of cloth into her mouth. It’s agonizing until it’s not anymore, until her body goes slack under his hold. She realizes he’s carving letters into her skin. He’s carving initials. He finishes his work, she hears him throw the knife down beside them. He whistles low.

“Even prettier, little bird. Giving me something real nice to look at while I fuck you.” She feels frozen, numb, only startling slightly at the sound of gunshots in the distance. Her mind offers up a single thought like a mote of dust floating in the dim light. Joel. She picks up the fight again, as best she can, squirming under his hold, but he grabs a hold of her hair, forcing her head back.

“Watch it, little bird. Or I won’t be so sweet to you no more.” He drops her head, her face smearing in the rotting leaves of the forest floor.

She can hear him undoing his belt in the gloom and she braces herself for what’s coming, her whole body tensing. But just then, another gunshot rings out, and she feels the man above her go slack, falling off to the side. Her wrists ache where he had been pressing them into the dirt. She heaves, huge rolling gasps leaving her shuddering ribcage as she tries to press herself up.

She hears her name being called through the rushing in her ears, feels a pair of hands gently pulling her jeans back up her legs. And then she sees Joel in the corner of her blurry vision, leaning down to search her face. She lets out a bone-rattling sob of his name and he gathers her up in his arms, sitting down on the ground and pulling her into him. There’s blood spattered across his shirt, but she doesn’t care, digging her face into his chest. He still smells like him.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything else happen to you. I’ve got you.”

…

Somehow, they manage to get to Bill and Frank’s the next day. Joel had overpowered the men last night, killing them all handily by the time he got to her. She hadn’t spoken since he’d found her, mutely walking alongside him, keeping her eyes on the road. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

When they met the two men at the fence, they both looked taken aback by her demeanor. Bill later told Joel he thought she looked like a spooked horse, wild eyes not quite making contact, jerky, stiff movements. Frank immediately took her under his arm, guiding her into the house to tend to her bruised wrists. The couple always had a soft spot for her, had been working with her long before Joel came around, and they treated her like a daughter. Joel and Bill were left standing there, staring each other down. Bill asked him what happened but all Joel could do was shake his head, a deep sigh rumbling through his chest as he scrubbed harshly at his jaw.

Bill offered him a shower and a clean set of clothes, which he gladly accepted, watching the rust-colored water swirl around the drain. All cleaned up, he ran into Frank in the hallway as he was coming out of the bathroom.

“She’s sleeping. I gave her some painkillers, to get her some rest, at least. She told me what happened.” Joel shifts in his boots, looking down at the floor, trying to hold onto whatever restraint he has left, to not crumple in front of Frank.

Frank brings his hand to Joel’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you, for what you did, Joel. For her.” Joel clears his throat.

“Didn’t do enough– should’ve– I should’ve–” Frank cuts him off with another squeeze to his shoulder.

“You did what you could. Listen, Bill won’t ever admit it. But that girl? She’s like family to us. Thank you for saving her. You did. You saved her.” All Joel can do is nod, trying to not let the thick feeling in his throat roll into tears.

…

The sun has already set. As always, Bill and Frank had cooked a mind-boggling meal, but she didn’t join them for dinner. Frank had taken a plate up to her before they sat down, and when he came back downstairs he told them that she was awake, that she was feeling ok.

After dinner, Joel excused himself as the couple settled at the piano together, telling them he wanted to turn in early. The room they had set him up in was across the hall from where she was and before he could think better of it, he was lightly knocking on her door.

She called for him to come in, and when he saw her, he was shocked at how much relief he felt in seeing her again. She was sitting on the side of the bed in a worn-looking t-shirt and sweatpants that Frank must have given her. She glanced quickly at him before looking down at her feet.

“Are you alright?” He’s taken aback from her question, softly shutting the door before turning back to look at her.

“You’re asking me if I’m alright?” She just shrugs, still not looking up at him.

“Frank sort of whisked me away this morning. Haven’t seen you since then, just wondering.” Joel tentatively sits down next to her, resting his forearms on his thighs, he looks at her over his shoulder.

“I’m fine. Are you alright?” She shakes her head.

“Don’t– don’t start treating me different, Joel.” “Not treating you different, I–”

“Yes you are, you’re treating me like I’m broken.” She scoffs before continuing, “I’m not that fragile. Thought you knew that by now. Christ, nothing even happened. You killed that-that bastard before he could really do anything.” Her breath shudders as she exhales.

“I know you’re not broken. And you’re certainly not fragile. Made of tougher stuff than most.” She shakes her head at that but he stops her.

“Hey. I also know that you’re a fucking human being. And you and I both know that even though nothing happened, something still did. Before I– before I could get to you.” It’s his turn to sigh now, wringing his hands that rest over his knees.

“Don’t, Joel. You did what you could, that’s enough.” He scoffs.

“Yeah, I did what I could. But it kills me that I didn’t do it quicker. When I saw him– on top of you, I– god, I– I’d rather die than see you hurt, do you get that?” Her head whips up to look at him, finally meeting his gaze.

“What?” He swallows hard, already regretting the words he just said, the dangerous confession he just gave to her.

“Look, I– I shouldn’t have said that, I should go,” he goes to stand but her hand reaches out to hold onto his and he freezes in place. His heart clenches when he looks at the mottled bruises long her wrist.

She turns to face him on the bed, cautiously raising her other hand to let her palm slide over his cheek. It comes out as a whisper when she says his name and something in Joel breaks.

He knows it’s rash, and maybe just plain stupid, but he still surges forward and when they kiss it’s not gentle or sweet, it’s desperate, it’s two people holding onto each other because it’s all they have. They move quickly, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his lap as she cards her fingers through his hair and when they kiss, they kiss ugly. All tongues and teeth and gasping breaths between. His fingers dig into her hips as she starts to press down onto his growing length. He pulls away, looking into her blown out eyes.

“I want you, Joel.” Afraid of what he might say in reply, he dives back in for her mouth, slowly starting to shift them until he’s laying her out on the bed with his legs slotted between her thighs.

He keeps his weight off her, seeing her slight wince with each movement, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm her. But she pulls him down by his shoulder blades, pressing him against her.

“Please, I just– I need to feel you, please.” He pauses, breathing heavily as he looks into her eyes, just nodding.

“You’ve got me, darlin’. I’m right here.” He shifts a bit closer to her, coming down onto his forearms as he kisses along her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbone. She sighs underneath him.

He feels her hands fumbling at the hem of his shirt and he leans back to shrug it off over his head. What he wasn’t expecting was for her to do the same with her own, and when he’s met with the sight of her bare chest, his breath catches in his throat. She reaches out for him but he’s still frozen in place, taking her in. He lets his hands slide up her sides, fingertips grazing over her nipples in a way that makes her shiver. He murmurs the only word he can think to before meeting her in another kiss.

“Beautiful.”

They press skin to skin now and the feeling, the warmth makes Joel shudder. He feels like he can’t get enough of her, the way she’s running her palms up and down the planes of his back, the little sounds she makes as he kisses her. She takes one of his hands and brings it to the waist of her sweatpants. His fingers halt there as he looks up to her, asking without saying anything, she just nods.

He slips his fingers under the band, skimming down to her folds. He groans at the pooling wetness there. She’s keening into his hand as he strokes her, dipping into her entrance before swirling her arousal around her clit.

“You’re perfect, baby. S’fucking perfect. Does that feel good?” She just nods, gasping his name when his fingers dip inside her again.

“J-Joel, please. Wanna feel you. W-want you inside me.” His head spins at her words and stops what he’s doing, splaying his palm across the soft swell of her stomach.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” He hangs his head, letting his forehead rest below her sternum, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, making sure this is real.

“Christ, ok. Ok, darlin’. I’ve got you.” He presses up off the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down along with his boxers. He thinks he might melt under her gaze, the way she takes in the sight of him.

He kneels at the end of the bed, bringing his hands to the waistband of her pants, looking up to her one more time, one more confirmation before he gently slides her pants and underwear off her legs. He sighs at the sight of her, bare beneath him, before framing her head with his forearms, laying over her and pressing in for a kiss. He guides the head of his cock through her folds and they both groan at the contact. She draws her knee up to his hip, spreading herself out for him just a bit more.

“You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” She nods, brushing his hair back away from his eyes before settling her hand on his cheek. He turns his head and lays a kiss in the middle of her palm before he starts to press into her. She gasps and he freezes immediately, but then she keens.

“D-don’t stop, please. Want you to keep going.” He huffs, pressing a bit deeper, taking in the way her back arches into him. Her nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder where she’s wrapped her arm.

Finally, his hips settle against hers, and they both sigh at the feeling of him being fully sheathed in her. Joel’s afraid that if he moves, this will be over before it’s even started. He dips his nose into her neck, smelling the soap Frank gave her to clean up with, but also just smelling her. Her heel digs a little into his low back, he looks up at her.

“You can move, baby.” Joel holds back a whimper at her words. He shifts his hips back, finding a slow roll back into her that has them both moaning. It’s a slow, deep pace they find, pushing and pulling against each other, lips smearing in barely-coherent kisses.

He feels the pleasure pulling tight, ready to snap, but he needs to get her there first. He brings his fingers down, circling her clit a bit harshly. She whines at the contact and he can feel her pulse around him.

“Just let go, baby. I’ve got you. Let go for me, please.” She lets out a broken cry of his name before coming undone, and it’s enough to send Joel over the edge as well, quickly pulling out and painting her stomach with his spend. He’s panting as he leans in for a chaste kiss, pulling back to take in her flushed figure, the softly heaving swells of her body. He whispers that he’ll be right back, moving over to the attached bathroom to find a towel to clean her up with. He sits back on the bed, daubing away the mess he made. She’s smiling softly around a “thank you.”

He passes her her t-shirt to slip back on while he tugs his boxers back up his legs before they both get under the covers, immediately tangling up in each other. There’s nothing to say, it’s unspoken what has just passed between them. Joel knows that from now on, he’s hers, and she’s his.

Her breathing evens out before his, falling asleep in his arms. He lets his palm wander up her shirt, gently skating down her back. He pauses at the gauze bandage that sits at the base of her spine. He had seen what that man had done to her, the letters gruesomely carved into her skin. It made him wish he hadn’t just shot the man, that he had kept him alive to make him suffer, only giving him the mercy of death when he was begging for it.

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller one shot #fanfic

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arlana-likes-to-write · 11 months ago

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Christmas Everyday

Summary: Yelena hates the cold, nothing good has happened to her when the temperatures dropped. When an assignment takes her to Boston, MA, and she stumbles into a cafe to escape the bitter weather, maybe the cold isn't as bad as she thought.

Warning: gun shot, gun shot injury, mention of HYDRA, Red Room and killing, blood, original character death, fluff and angst, cannon type violence, gay panic (lol)

Word count: 4.1k

Yelena hated the cold. It reminded her of Russian winters, fake Christmas’ in Ohio, and her time in New York when she was hired to kill Clint Barton. She wished she was someplace warmer, but work brought her to Boston. It was snowing lighting. Yelena walked down the busy sidewalk and maneuvered through the crowd. She had some time before her stakeout and wanted something warm to drink. Picking a random cafe, she opened the door and was surrounded by warmth. She almost moaned at the break from the cold.

The cafe wasn’t busy. A few tables were occupied by patrons working on their laptops or holding a book. She noticed there was a small library in the corner, but what made Yelena cringe was the Christmas decorations all over the place. There were decorations for the holidays that took place in December: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa. It was like something out of a Hallmark movie.

Sighing, she stepped up to the corner. “I’ll be right with you.” A voice called from the back. That was fine. She needed time to think and figure out what she wanted. “Hot chocolate and a banana muffin for Lindsay,” you put the two items down and wished the girl that came to collect them a ‘Happy Holiday.’ “Hi, sorry for the wait. Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” Yelena couldn’t help but stare at you, a red beanie on your head and dressed in black jeans and a flannel. It was 9 am, and the amount of energy you had was intimidating.

“Black coffee and a chocolate croissant,” she ordered. You didn’t bat an eye at her accent.

“A name for the order.”

“Kate,” the blonde answered without hesitation. Giving her real name with her target being so close would be stupid.

“Alright, Kate,” you smiled. “That will be $7.25,” Yelena handed you the exact change and slipped a few extra bills into the tip jar. “Your order will be right up.” You removed the croissant from the display case and put it in the oven. Next, you poured her coffee.

“Are you the only employee?” Yelena found herself asking. There was no line, so she figured it was okay to make light conversation. You shook your head.

“I usually work the most, but there are two others, but everyone called in sick,” you laughed. “So you are stuck with little old me,” you bagged the croissant and placed the two items. “One black coffee and chocolate croissant for Kate,” the blonde took her order. “Happy Holidays.”

“Same to you,” Yelena turned to leave the little shop, and when she opened the pastry bag, she saw the croissant she ordered and a small blueberry muffin. Yelena was amazed you put it in there without her noticing. Smiling, she took a bit and continued on her way.

She had no intention of returning to the cafe, but she did. Every day before she started her assignment, she would enter and be greeted with soft Christmas music and your warm smile. It was the same order: black coffee and a chocolate croissant. Every time you put something extra in the bag. Yelena never mentioned it, and neither did you. Where there wasn’t a line of customers, Yelena asked you questions about your life in the city, and in return, you asked your fair share. She told you she was in the town for business, which you joked and said sounded ‘sketchy.’

Yelena should have put an end to it. It was dangerous and stupid, but there was something about you and the small cafe that kept her wanting more.

The familiar smell soothed the ache in Yelena’s body as she opened the door to the cafe. It was quiet; only one other person was there, and he was reading a newspaper in the corner. You looked up from whipping the counter. “Missed you yesterday. I was worried my favorite customer skipped town and didn’t bother saying goodbye.” Yelena chuckled.

“I slept in,” she said, approaching the counter. What she did was drink too much to dig out the bullet out of her stomach and pass out. She slept into one. Your eyes flickered across her body and landed on her face.

“Are you okay?” You asked. Yelena nodded.

“I just feel like I got hit by a bus,” you chuckled and glanced at your coworker. Her name was Jennifer. On busier days, she cooked while you handed the counter.

“Jen, can you watch the counter for a second?” She agreed. Yelena watched you curiously as you rounded the corner and grabbed her hand.

“What-?” Yelena let herself be dragged to the back of the kitchen and into a cleaning closet. “What the fuck?” She asked as you pushed her down into a chair.

“Just shut up and listen,” you grabbed a first aid kit and knelt in front of her. Your warm hands pushed up her shirt. The stitches she did ripped. How the hell did she not notice? “That guy in the corner when you walked in,” you opened an alcohol pad and cleaned up around the wound. “He’s been here the past few days asking about you.” Fuck. She was being so stupid. A low hiss escaped her mouth when you pressed an alcohol pad. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I haven’t told him much, but he’s been,” you paused. “Aggressive.” Yelena’s eyes narrowed.

“Has he hurt you?” You shook your head.

“No, but you need to leave. There is a back door,” a gunshot filled the quiet cafe, and you both stood up quickly. Yelena almost hit her head against yours. “You need to go now.”

“Come with me. It’s not safe,” she saw the hesitation pass through your eyes.

“I can’t,” you whispered. “I’ll stall him and see if they are okay up front.” Another gunshot. You opened the door to the closet. “Just go,” Yelena wanted to go in and take the man down, but with her condition, she would lose.

“Don’t die on me,” you chuckled. “I’ll come back,” Yelena promised. Promises were dangerous in her line of work. They were uncertain and unpredictable, and if broken, they left both parties in pain. You nodded, offering her a kind smile. It was almost like you didn’t believe her. Another shot rang out, causing Yelena to look away from you and run to the door. It led to a back alley, and the cold air caused goosebumps to form on her skin.

It was unlike her to run away from a fight. She was trained to face it head-on but ran from this one. When she was a reasonable distance away, she pulled out her phone and dialed 911. “911, what’s your emergency?”

“I like to report a robbery in progress.”

You steadied your heart rate and walked back to the front of the store with your hands raised. The man was standing in the middle of the room, the gun pointed at you when you appeared. “Well, look who finally joined the party.” His voice was laced with a Russian accent. Unlike the blonde you knew, it did not provide warmth, but a chill went down your spine. “Where is the blonde bitch?” You saw Jennifer standing in the corner, unharmed but terrified. A few more customers must have entered when you were helping the blonde; two of them were on the ground, not moving, with a pool of blood forming around them. “Answer me!”

“Gone,” you replied. “She went out the back.” He laughed, shaking his head. His laughter brought you back to a dark part of your past, and you focused on staying in the present.

“Why are you constantly getting in my way?”

“Why are you after her?” You questioned.

“Your girlfriend killed my boss,” he answered. That was not surprising. Wait, did he call her my girlfriend, you thought?

“She’s not-” you stopped yourself. “Look, I called the cops. They’ll be here any second. You have enough time to leave before they show up.” He laughed again and began to pace, side to side. You saw a knife on the counter, and while the man was muttering to himself, you grabbed it and placed it in your pant pocket.

“Do you know who I work for?” You had no clue and honestly couldn’t care less. Since you were a kid, you learned that someone or a group had to be in power, and if the top dog was displaced, someone was ready to take over. It was exhausting, and you found it useless to evolve yourself in the ‘political’ undertakings of the city you now called home. Your silence annoyed him. “I’m going to kill you, then I’ll find that Black Widow and slice her open.” You chuckled. “What’s so funny?”

“I have a feeling she won’t be that easy to kill,” you answered, especially if she was a Black Widow. “And fun fact: I won’t be that easy either.”

You jumped over the counter, which separated you and him. He missed his first shot and landed the second in your stomach. The pain was nothing to you since you’d been shot before, and you wondered if this would be your last. You pulled the knife out of your pocket, used his hesitation to reload, and kicked the pistol out of his hand. Whoever this man worked for, you figured he was on the lower end of the organization because his hand-to-hand combat was shit. He was using this opportunity to prove himself.

It was easy to close the distance on him and stab the knife in his stomach. You pressed forward until his back was against the bookshelf, and blood began to pool in his mouth. Once he stopped struggling, you let his body fall to the ground. Besides your breathing and the distant sound of sirens, the cafe was silent. You stumbled backward; a pained groan left your lips as you put pressure on the gunshot wound. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” Jennifer said. Her footsteps rounded the corner, and she had a white towel in her hand. “That was insane!” She pressed the towel to your stomach. “Are you okay? God, of course you aren’t.” You chuckled.

“I’m okay,” you said. Jennifer rolled her eyes.

“You’re a badass,” she said. “I kind of figured that about you.” You leaned your head back on the wall. You killed someone. It was in self-defense, but you ended a life. You wanted out of this life, and of course, a blonde Black Widow would pull you back into it.

A knock on your apartment door caused you to look up from the boiling pot. Since you were shot five days ago, you were still heavily restricted on movement. Hell, the cafe owners refused to let you go back to work until a doctor cleared you, which was for another two weeks. So you’ve kept to yourself in your apartment, surviving on grocery store delivery services and movies on TV. Another knock caused you to sigh and walk over to it, not bothering to put on a shirt. You’ve only worn loose tank tops and sweatpants. It was easy, simple, and required little movement. You glanced at the peephole and quickly opened the door when you saw the blonde. “Hi,” she smiled. You pulled her into your apartment and closed the door. “Well, buy me dinner before you drag me around like that,” she teased.

“I can’t believe you are still here,” you said. “Is it safe?” She sighed, took off her winter jacket, and hung it up on the hook. Instead of answering, she walked into your kitchen.

“What were you cooking?” She asked.

“Pasta, but it can wait,” the blonde gave you a pointed look.

“Sit,” she put her bag on the counter and washed her hands. “You got shot for me. The less I can do is cook dinner.” You had no energy to argue, so you grabbed your water bottle and the bottle of ibuprofen. The hospital prescribed you more potent pain medication, but those scared you. “To answer your question, yes, it is safe. The group that man was a part of won’t bother you or the cafe again.”

“Did you kill them?” You asked. The water began to boil, and she put the pasta in. “I don’t mind,” you said. It would be hypercritically if you did. “Just curious.” She turned to face you, leaning against the counter. Her green eyes scanned over you.

“You handled the situation at the cafe well,” you chuckled, scratching the bag off your head.

“Not well enough. I did get shot.” She smirked.

“Who are you?” She asked. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.

“I feel like I should be asking you that very same question,” she chuckled, turned to grab her bag, and pulled out a file. The blonde threw it in front of you. With shaky hands, you opened it. It was everything HYDRA did to you and everything they forced you to do. You so desperately wanted to forget that part of your life, so when you escaped, you got a new identity and a mundane job as a barista. “You’re a Black Widow, right?” You wanted to confirm what that man told you. She nodded her head. “They would always tell us about you and compare your conditions to ours. They kept saying it could be worse.”

“I bet both were horrible,” she mumbled. You nodded. “I heard about you. HYDRA’s Shadows. They said you died.”

“It’s because I did,” she drained the pasta and placed it back in the pot with the sauce. “The Shadow died, and she was reborn as a cafe barista.” She put a bowl in front of you with a fork. “What’s your real name? Because I know it’s not Kate.”

“Yelena,” she answered. Honestly, you were surprised she gave it to you. “I’m sorry for involving you and your coworker. I should have realized they were following me.” You shrugged. It was unfortunate that two of your regulars were killed, but you knew the situation could have been worse. “You got out of this life,” she said. “I shouldn’t have dragged you back into it.”

“Why are you still in it?” Yelena looked around your apartment instead of answering.

“It looks like Christmas threw up in here,” she said. “I’m guessing you decorated the cafe.” You spun in the chair to look at your decorations.

“I love Christmas,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder. “I wish it could be Christmas every day.” She scuffed, and you turned back around. Yelena was stirring the pasta in the bowl. “How long are you going to stay?” She sighed, moving her shoulders up and down.

“Not sure.”

“Stay with me then,” her head snapped to look at you. “Look, you clearly don’t have any other pressing plans, and I did get shot for you; you kind of owe me.” She remained silent, but a smile crept to her lips. Celebrate the holidays with me.” The blonde huffed.

“I’d have to go get my dog.”

“I love dogs,” and you did. “We can go ice skating and watch Christmas movies.” You could convince her to walk away from the life she was living. Even when she smiled, she seemed sad.

“I like hot chocolate,” Yelena said. “We better drink it every night if I agree to this.” With a roll of your eyes, you held out your hand.

“You got yourself a deal, Yelena,” she smirked and took your hand. You were surprised at how soft her hand was against yours. Her skin was cold, and you enjoyed how her hand felt in yours.

Christmas Eve

“Are we wearing these?” Yelena asked, emerging from your bathroom in the plaid PJs you got for her, you, and Fanny. The American Akita ran over to her owner. “Awe, you look so cute,” the blonde cooed over her dog. It’s been over a week since Yelena came into your life, and you filled it with everything Christmas and holiday-themed. It didn’t take a genius to notice Yelena’s aversion to the Holiday, but you wanted to give her a Christmas she would remember. So you went ice skating, drank your weight in hot chocolate, baked cookies, and watched the cheesy Christmas movies. It was amazing. You forgot how enjoyable life could be when you had someone else to enjoy it.

“Hey, what about me? I’m the reason she looks cute,” the blonde straightened up to look at you.

“You get no compliments since you are why I’m in this,” you rolled your eyes.

“Just get your ass over here. Your hot chocolate is getting cold.” You heard her run over to sit down next to you. Fanny made her way to the dog bed you got for her. Yelena began to load up her hot chocolate with toppings- she had such a sweet tooth. It was disgusting sometimes. “For the record,” you said. “I think you look cute.” The blush that covered her cheeks was your favorite color on her. As Christmas approached, you weren’t hiding how you felt about the blonde. You openly flirted with her, doing anything to see her blush. Sometimes, she would give it back, come up with her flirty comment, and take you by surprise. Then you thought your friendship with her would take the next step, but she was the one to pull away. It was easy to fall for Yelena. She was witty, beautiful, and understood the horrors of your past. She looked at the world with such childlike wonder and curiosity that you couldn’t help but fall in love with her. You knew you had to be patient, but you feared that she would pack up and leave as soon as the holiday was over.

“What movie are we watching?” She asked, sipping on her hot drink.

“Home Alone,” you answered. It was your favorite movie, so you waited for Christmas Eve to show them to her. You turned the volume up and pressed play.

It wasn’t long into the movie when you noticed something was off with Yelena. Usually, she would be making comments about the plot or the characters. It made you laugh and added to the movies you already loved. Quiet Yelena was never good. She was so lost in her head. You paused the movie. She wasn’t fazed that it stopped. “Hey,” the sound of your voice snapped her out of it. “Where did you go just now?” She sighed and grabbed your hand. You learned early on that Yelena needed physical touch to be grounded. You woke her up from a nightmare, and you were startled when she grabbed onto you. She played with the bracelet on your wrist.

“You asked me a question that I didn’t answer. Do you remember what you asked me?” You had no idea. You asked the blonde many questions about her parents, Natasha, and her life. Some she answered while the others were answered with only silence. She smiled softly. “It was the night I came over and made pasta.” It clicked. She knew you remembered by the way your hand tensed up. “Ask me again.”

“Why are you still in it?” A life that was covered in red. Red was blood, violence, and anger. For the longest time, red was a color you avoided. The simplest of things would trigger a spiral for you. Instead of staring at a ketch bottle, it was a pool of blood from a bottle you used to smash against a man’s head. A no-name man you killed because he was in your way. But he had a name, a family that had to mourn and bury his body.

“Because I have no one to pull me out of it,” she turned to look at you. Her green eyes were glossy with tears. “This life is all I have, so what do I do if I leave?” You used your free hand to wipe a tear down her cheek.

“Let me pull you out of it,” you whispered and moved to sit before her. Her legs were crossed, and you undid them so they rested on either side of you. “And you live.” You answered. “You find out who you are without their claws in you. It takes time, and it’s messy, but I will help you. If you let me,” you raised the hand that she held onto and kissed her palm. There was a slight hitch in her throat. You placed her hand on her cheek, and a shiver went down your spine as her fingers drew shapes on your skin.

“I’ve dreamed of opening a dog rescue,” she said. “I like dogs.” You laughed. Your neighbor had a corgi puppy, no more than a year old. You offered to take the pup on walks now and again, and the blonde was in love with it.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” again, the blush covered her cheeks as she guided your face closer to hers. “You’ll have to leave Valentina,” you said against her lips.

“Will you help?”

“Always,” you said and connected your lips with hers. The kiss was slow. She tasted sweet from the hot chocolate decorated with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles. The taste was so Yelena it made you sigh into the kiss and wrap your hand into her blonde hair. She pulled away first; your chest was heaving at the relation. You kissed her. You finally knew what it felt like to have your lips on hers.

“Shit,” she whispered. You laughed, head falling on her shoulder. You kissed the skin you could reach and felt her shiver against her. “Come on, we have a movie to watch.” There were other things you wanted to do besides watching a movie you’ve seen a thousand times, but you pulled away from her and sat back down. Surprisingly, she took the remote and cuddled up against you. You put your arm around her, pulled the blanket over the both of you and stole a kiss as the movie began to play. It was hard to pay attention when Yelena was so close to you. “Will you help me get away from her?” She softly asked. You hummed, moving your fingers through her blonde hair.

“Yeah, I will,” you said. “Don’t think about it right now,” you saw the stress in her body and rubbed her temples. “No stress on Christmas. It’s against the rules.” She chuckled, grabbing your hand and interlocking her fingers with yours.

“Merry Christmas, detka,”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” You knew very little about Valentina Allegra de Fontaine besides that she was the Director of the CIA with hundreds of contacts. It would be hard, borderline impossible, but you realized who would do anything for the Black Widow in your arms. Yelena turned to look up at you; you were already looking down at her.

“You are thinking hard, dorogoy; I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” you chuckled and tickled her sides. She laughed, and the sound was music to your ears. She sat up, swung her leg over you, and sat on your lap. Your eyes widened at the sudden action as your hands went to her hips. “Is this okay?” You nodded, unable to find your voice. The movie turned to white noise. “Tell me what’s wrong. I thought you said no stress on Christmas.” You smiled, and she ran her fingertips over the lines on your forehead. You sat up more, wrapped your arm around her waist, and rested your head on her shoulder.

“I’d do anything for you, Yelena Belova,” you whispered, kissing her cheek. “Anything to see you happy.” You felt her hands on your head, forcing you to look at her.

“Don’t lose yourself for me.”

“I already got shot for you; what’s another one?” You teased, but the blonde frowned. “I won’t,” you promised instead. She placed her hand over your heart.

“Tell me,” she said, looking at where her hand rested on your chest. “How did you keep your heart.” You hummed, not fully understanding her question. “You kept your heart good after everything they put you through. How?” You sighed and placed your hand on top of hers.

“I had to keep it good so I could give it to someone,” her mouth hung open.

“I’ll keep it safe for you.” She said, kissing your cheek and then your lips.

“And I’ll keep yours.”

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x female!reader #black widow x reader #black widow fanfiction #yelena belove x you #yelena belove x reader

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ltwilliammowett · 11 months ago

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She is a bit shy in door 8 today, but a very pretty French girl - L'Hermione

Départ de La frégate Hermione Lafayette du port de Brest, Fort du Dellec, 2019

More about her here:

Hermione is the name of the French frigate with which the Marquis de La Fayette returned to Boston in 1780 to support the American colonists in their fight for independence. The ship was completed in 1779 in the naval arsenal of Rochefort in a construction period of just eleven months, based on plans by Henri Chevillard and identical in construction to three other ships (la Courageuse, la Concorde, la Fée). These new light frigates were characterised by their manoeuvrability and speed. The Hermione was equipped with 26 cannons that could fire projectiles weighing 12 French pounds "poid de marc" (489.5 g). This is where the name "twelve-gun frigate" comes from. She also carried six or eight six-pounder guns. The empty weight was 1166 tonnes, the hull length 44.2 m, the overall length 65 m, the width 11.55 m and the depth 5.78 m. A sail area of more than 1500 m² was spread over three masts.

She experienced several battles and when the First Coalition War broke out on 20 April 1792, the Hermione returned to active service under Captain Martin. From 7 May 1793, she escorted convoys between Bayonne and Brest. In September 1793, she was tasked with escorting a convoy between the Loire estuary and the streets of Brest. On 20 September 1793, she ran aground off Le Croisic. The Hermione had a serious leak in the hull and could not be refloated in the receding tide. The crew threw 12 cannons and anchors overboard to stabilise the ship. The rising sea lifted the Hermione for a while, but she was so damaged that she could no longer pump water and sank to the bottom, where her hull began to disintegrate. At 1000 hours the next morning, Martin evacuated his crew in several fishing boats that had come to the rescue, salvaging as much equipment as possible, and was the last to leave the frigate.

The court martial that followed the wreck found the frigate's pilot, Guillaume Guillemin du Conquet, responsible for the frigate's loss; its commander, Captain Martin, was honourably acquitted.

A replica of the frigate has been under construction in a dry dock at the former Rochefort naval arsenal since 1997. As the original construction plans had been burnt for safety reasons, new plans had to be drawn up. The plans of a sister ship from the British Naval Museum, the Concorde, served as a model. The reconstruction of the Hermione was financed in part by the proceeds from the survey, grants from the French government and the EU as well as donations.

After its completion, the Hermione was launched in 2014. She left her building dock in early September 2014 for initial sea trials off the French Atlantic coast and sailed to North America in 2015, where she stayed for four months before sailing back. From 2 February 2018, the Hermione undertook a second major sea voyage from Rochefort to the Mediterranean via Tangier, Sète, Marseille and Toulon.

#naval history #tall ship #l'hermione #18th century #age of sail #replica #french #advent calendar #day 8

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bird-inacage · 1 year ago

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Only Friends: Can Ray be Redeemed? Is Sand the Solution?

I know Ray has upset a lot of people in Episode 8. I do find it really fascinating how quickly the tide has turned on him, especially when you compare his actions to those of our villains of the first arc: Boston and Top. Perhaps I'm in the minority, but I still choose to believe that Ray does care. He's hugely misguided but not heartless.

Let me firstly preface that none of what I'm about to say excuses Ray's behaviour but is an attempt to unpack why I still hold hope.

A child lost with no anchor

Ray is emotionally immature (which as cliché as it sounds, is a direct product of his upbringing - or lack thereof). He largely operates on basic needs, as a child would: 'I want. I need'. It's all based on serving the self. He seems wildly incapable of thinking very far beyond that. Like a child, he can barely take care of himself, let alone anyone else. He's pretty helpless on his own in a lot of respects. Most people grow out of this. Through knocks and hardship, we learn the world doesn't revolve around us and how to equip ourselves with healthy and appropriate means to navigate through life. Ray however, still seems to be stuck in his infantile box.

I often joke that Ray is a bit feral, but there is some truth to that. Ray's been left to his own devices for the majority of his life. So it's no surprise he's developed this 'me against the world' attitude which is volatile and defensive, but ultimately keeps him caged in said box.

These traits are abundantly apparent in his relationship with Mew. Ray is the vehicle for Mew's self-destruction, but all he sees is the exhilaration of having a 'partner in crime', someone to be in 'cahoots with'. Like a pair of naughty school kids getting into mischief, rather than an adult partnership. Ray is all about immediate gratification over long term fulfilment because (as children do), they don't possess the wisdom and experience to think ahead. Ray seems unable to grasp repercussions or consequences in his decision making. It's always act first, think second.

To put it simply, Ray hasn't been taught boundaries and how to respect them. He just gets criticised for crossing them which doesn’t help him learn. No one has had the patience to teach him why and how. To guide, to steer, to direct, to mentor. To educate rather than scold. Prevention rather than cure. As a result, everyone around Ray serves to clean up his messes rather than equip him with the ability to not create them in the first place. He falls into patterns of behaviour that no one has seriously attempted to break which has only amplified with adulthood. The longer those habits prevail, the harder they are to change.

Does Ray harbour ill-will or bad intent?

Is Ray the worst? In my opinion, no. (Not yet anyway - I might eat my words later, who knows). I've said this somewhere before but intent makes all the difference when judging someone's actions. Choosing to actively cause harm whilst being fully conscious of the impact versus triggering damage to occur as a symptom of your behaviour is vastly different. This is where Ray and Boston differ. Boston acts without remorse, he purposely and calculatingly makes choices that will cause the maximum degree of suffering. Whereas Ray's a loose cannon. He leaves a trail of destruction where he goes, due to a lack of control and means to channel how he feels in a constructive manner. Boston's victims are targets, whereas Ray's victims are collateral.

I don't think Ray means to purposely hurt or harm the people he cares about. Because in doing so, he'll push them away - which is precisely what he doesn't want. (Though saying that, Ray doesn't seem to give as much of a damn if it's people he isn't invested in, such as Top). Ray's world consists of what Ray needs. It's not that he doesn't care about a single person besides himself, he's just so wrapped up in his own needs to even gauge the bigger picture.

When others do point out to Ray that he's hurt them, he does tend to look guilty and taken aback, as if he's thinking, 'But I didn't know. No one told me. I had no idea my actions would cause you to be upset'. Painful levels of ignorance. But I also see a huge amount of internalised frustration. 'But why? Why didn't anyone explain this to me? How was I to know?'

Ray is capable of showing remorse, of displaying guilt. He's not cold-blooded. Anyone who can demonstrate compassion is capable of redemption. Ray is seen to be genuinely appreciative and grateful when people are good to him. He's fiercely protective over people he cares about. Ray was also willing to jump in when Sand gets a call from his mum being in trouble.

One thing I do have to stress is the difference in Ray's demeanour when he's severely drunk/high versus when he's sober. His addiction tends to amplify his most primal desires, his most 'childlike' traits. The uglier sides of Ray presented in their worst light, set to maximum. The raging tantrums, the absurd and unpredictable demands, an explosive and dangerous impulsiveness. People often refer to addiction as a form of sickness, which is worth noting when the person under scrutiny is effectively not well.

Learning by Example

Now let's talk about the huge importance of Sand in this equation.

Let me be clear - it's not Sand's responsibility to teach Ray how to grow up or behave more like a functioning adult. It's neither his duty to be a stand-in parent or caretaker. The unfortunate truth is that Ray doesn't have anyone in his life who plays that role. Who is the voice of reason. To keep him on the straight and narrow. In order to actually incite change, Ray needs to be receptive to whoever is trying to help him. We've seen he doesn't respond particularly well to the majority of people in his life. He's defensive with his father, his friends, deflective and pandering with Mew. The only person he's seen to show any signs of actually listening to and registering is Sand.

Whilst it's not fair on Sand, he might be the only person who has any real chance of encouraging healthy and positive growth in Ray. Because Sand loves Ray, he genuinely wants to see improvement for Ray's own good. I don't think it's a coincidence that we tend to see Ray's more endearing side when he's with Sand. His childlike qualities take on a sweeter, more harmless, playful tone.

He needs someone with an almost parental level of unconditional love to not give up on him, where others have thrown in the towel. Ray's character is essentially a personified cry for help. His mother was unable to cope. His father seems chronically exasperated and far too busy to actually be present. His friends have always seen him as bothersome and too much of a handful.

I personally don't want to write Ray off as a lost cause. Ironically, Sand may be the saviour he didn't ask for, but the one he really needs. Someone who can save him from himself.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #ray pakorn #ray x sand #sand x ray #raysan #sanray #khaofirst #firstkhao #khaotung thanawat #first kanaphan #ray is such a complex character that i could go on and on #khao just does such a great job of adding so many layers to him

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