#oh whoops it got sad at the end there

[bonemeal12]

hmmm... If Klarion and Teekl had their backstory retconned into the "limbotown" stuff, the Sins of The Youth still happen? Tim doesn't remember either of them in Robin 157, and Sins of The Youth doesn't work without Klarion...

Robin 158 gave us this teensy Teekl tho!

[dinitride-art]

hey fisher. thanks for ripping my heart out with that one post

I’m gonna assume this is about the s3 hug gif post. Listen, they didn’t have to make it like that and then hit us with the airport scene. And then s4 is Nancy telling Steve that they aren’t babies anymore and the kids learning about real relationships and feelings. And Lucas and max being like that and planning a date but it feels different from the times before because they’re old enough to start to realize that they mean something to each other.

And then there’s Mike and Will and they’re doing the same thing and realizing what their feelings are and what they mean and struggling. And Mike and Will, for the first time, are distancing themselves from each other emotionally and physically because they’re too old to not know what everything means. And they’re fighting about not keeping contact with each other and they’re trying to be normal and keep a safe distance and be as close as they’re allowed to be and find these new lines that they aren’t allowed to cross. And they can hold a phone at the same time and grab each other when they’re getting shot at but they can’t hold hands just to hold hands like they did when Will was possessed and they can’t be close to each other for longer than they’re allowed to be. But they keep gravitating towards each other and stepping back and forwards and they can’t fully step towards each other because they aren’t allowed to anymore but they can’t pull away because they need each other and they can’t help it. And Will can only reach out to Mike and put his hand on his back to tell him that he’s the heart, to tell him that he needs to save El.

Everything after that scene in season three is different. They’re kids still but they’re too old to not notice what’s allowed and what’s not. They’re starting to realize what real feelings are and what people mean to them. It all changes because Mike and Will can’t not notice their own feelings. They know what they mean now. They know that it’s not allowed. They’re so fucking scared. But they’re also really brave. Will makes Mike a painting, and while it might not go as he originally planned, he still tells Mike what he wanted to say. Even if he says it isn’t from him. And Mike’s questioning his and El’s relationship. He’s been pushing back against making it more serious, saying I love you, and he doesn’t give in when him and El fight about it. He’s trying so hard to be who he is, to be a good person, while protecting himself from what could happen if he was honest with her. They’re both figuring out how much they can have without being in danger. And this was all set up by the end of s3 with that hug. And hoppers letter voiceover. And the Byers moving. And castle byers being destroyed and the rain fight and all of it. Because they’re figuring out who they are now. And that changes everything,

And if they’d just hugged at the airport like normal I wouldn’t have had to write that addition to that post (or… all of this lol)

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 050 - Lover! HSR Men x Fem! Reader: Can't sleep at night.... ♡ ˎˊ˗

꒰ Caelus, Aventurine, Sunday, Dan Heng ꒱

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ ℂ𝕒𝕖𝕝𝕦𝕤 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Alright, who is begging to be whooped by my bat—" Caelus announces, his voice full of conviction as he held his bat until his gaze lowered down to see your sorry little state clutching a miniature plushie of him you got from the trailblaze stern's merchandise. "O-oh, babe!"

He immediately panics and throws away the bat he was ready to swing at a moment's notice.

"I uhm... Heh!" He scratches the back of his head before taking your hand. "What's wrong? It's really late now, did you have a nightmare?"

"No... Not really" You slump, entirely upset. "I watched a sad movie and now I can't sleep."

"... Ah, that old film Mr. Yang recommended?" Caelus hums thoughtfully, "Wanna hit the hay with me then? My new room is really big and I got new pillows!"

"Please" You nod sheepishly as your boyfriend guides you inside the upturned storeroom he spent days decorating and renovating.

It was a sight to behold knowing how empty and barren the place was until the astral express team decided to give him the space. Now Caelus had a whole paradise to himself. A kitchen, his own bathroom, a weapon station, and even his massive gaming area that he spent hours on end when the crew isn't off doing training or he's joining March on whatever stupidity to stress Dan Heng and Sunday with since the former head of the oak family has decided to hitchhike for a little while.

"Wanna talk about the movie?" Caelus asks as he kisses your plump cheek so you would look at him. "Or is it too sad?"

You shook your head, not wanting to recall the film that made you look at the wall and contemplate life. Mr. Yang is truly cruel for suggesting such a sad movie.

"Hm..." He ponders, trying to recall the contents of the book he asked from Dan Heng about cheering up your girlfriend who is clearly upset.

Now that he thinks about it, the contents of that book is too cringey and will probably not help you at all.

"Anything you want me to do?" He gently ruffles the side of your head.

"Sunday told me he taught you some voice thingies" You say, your eyes glimmering as you look up at his golden orbs.

"Well, uhm... Err... About that" A dust of pink tinges on his fair cheeks.

He wanted to surprise you with a love song on your anniversary so he secretly started asking voice lessons from him, but maybe he should have told the halovian man that it's for a surprise.

"You will, right?... Right?" You nod expectantly, making Caelus feel all the more helpless as he can't resist his lover.

"Alright, alright" He nods as he clears his throat.

"You can do it, Caelus. Sunday said your voice is really good, just relax" He tells himself.

He needed a bit more time as he developed the courage, but eventually he started humming. He remembered Sunday's lessons well after all, he should be fine.

Caelus kept humming for a while until he noticed you completely passed out in his arms and nuzzling his chest. He silently screamed a victorious howl, crying of joy and thanking Sunday for joining the astral express and for the free singing lessons.

Now he knows the perfect way of coaxing you to sleep without using unconventional methods. The strict guidance he underwent from Sunday is all not in vain.

After all, he has his cute girlfriend snuggled up against him with a miniature plushie version of himself in her arms. What more can he ask for?

So gently, he squeezed you in his arms while kissing your cheek.

"Goodnight, baby. I hope you dream pleasant dreams"

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔸𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕖 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Aventurine has just finished working on his remaining paperworks for the evening until there was a knock on his office, he lazily called out to come in and perked up at the sight if your wearing the pajamas he bought for you the other day.

"Ah, look at you, darling. I knew the limited edition one made of fine silk suits your cute figure, come come. I want to admire you more." Aventurine urges you to come over.

And once you were near enough, he perched you on his lap and peppered your pretty face with kisses.

"It's bedtime now, though, why are you still awake, hm?" He inquires as he strokes the top of your head.

"Can't sleep..." You complain softly as Aventurine presses his lips on your forehead.

"Mm, is it because you need me by your ride to sleep?" He teases.

"Mhm..." You nod sheepishly, feeling childish for such a demand.

"Ah, how cute!" Aventurine muses, giving you another plethora of kisses. "I would love to join you in bed, but as you can see, the ipc is working me to the bone again and I have just returned from break"

He gestures to the pikes of paperwork still on his desk and open documents on the screen.

"Can I stay here then?" You ask, playing with his necktie. "I'll be good, I promise"

"Whatever makes your pretty little head happy, dearest" The signonian man hums, pulling your head to the crook of his neck as a way to coax you into sleeping.

The room soon falls into silence, with the exception of Aventurine's writing and keyboard typings. A sweet aroma of wood and citrus permeates through his office, making the whole place even more cozier than it already is.

And soon, you would find yourself lost in dreamland in your beloved's arms.

It took him a while to notice, but Aventurine soon realizes you're completely asleep. He smiles gently, his heterochromatic eyes gazing so lovingly at your face.

He never really thought he would be holding you like this again given all the trouble he went through in penacony. Not to mention, he was dead set on disappearing there until a knight of beauty rescued him from hell.

Aventurine is not taking another chance at being so reckless again knowing that someone as precious as you is waiting for him at home. And how could he leave you when you're this adorable and clingy? He would rather be humiliated than ever make you upset again.

So once again, he kisses your forehead— A lingering one this time as a way to bless you in your sleep.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕪 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

Sunday's days are finally peaceful and stress-free ever since he became a runaway fugitive in Penacony. Who knew staying in the astral express can bless him with such clarity and tranquility? He's never had his guard down like this when he was the head of the oak family. He always presented himself as the most perfect person as he can be.

But now, he is dressed in an outfit that is asymmetrical. He lives in a space where there is a mess here and there that he cannot help but tidy up as a way to help pompom. It's quite awkward to reside in the train that bodyslammed him multiple times when he was at the peak of insanity. But this will do. Yes. This will do. Sunday is, after all, still adjusting to the life in the astral express, the astral express that you are also part of.

"Sunny?..." You call out to him as he arranges some books that he borrowed from Dan Heng as a way to pass the time.

"Dearest." The halovian smiles lovingly, putting down the books he is holding and gesturing you to his bed so he can sit you down. "My love, if you sleep this late then you will he moody in the morning again"

He cups your cheek gently, his wings fluttering softly as he touches your skin.

"I just can't sleep... I was scared you're still missing" You murmur, making his heart ache.

"I told you, it's alright now. I'm hitchhiking here" He reassures you before tucking you in his sheets. "I promised you that I will protect you as I give my services to the astral express, you needn't be so distressed."

He then ponders for a while, "Shall I hum you a tune then? My sister used to be like you when she has trouble resting. While I would normally suggest that we listen to her albums, it seems that my love needs 'Sunny'— More right now."

It was awkward to use that nickname, but he would make an exception for his beloved.

"Mhm..." You nod, intertwining your fingers together.

Sunday started to hum a lullaby he used to coax Robin with when they were little. A soft, steady and melancholic lullaby his mother taught him when he was younger. It was one of the few things he cherishes from her. Though her departure is abrupt and sudden, Sunday chooses to remember all the joyous memories he has given him and his baby sister.

And part of that way is singing you the lullaby she would sing. It never fails to soothe you after all.

See?

Your already breathing so slowly. Your chest would rise and fall in a steady manner and he would eventually stop.

"There we go, my little bird" Sunday cooes, kissing your forehead. "Don't worry about me anymore. I will stay by your side as long as you permit me to. I want to see the stars with you a bit longer, so rest well."

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕟𝕘 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

"Yes?..." Dan Heng answers the door and sees you fidgeting with your little fingers.

"Hi..." You awkwardly greet him.

"..." The vidyadhara steps aside, a silent way of inviting you in since he knew what is going on.

"Am I bothering you?" You ask, glancing at the paperwork on his desk scattered around.

"No, I was finished anyway" Dan Heng shakes his head, "Ignore the papers. I was just reviewing some stuff regarding our recent expenses,"

His blue eyes then glance down at you who is holding a teddy bear he gave you as a present on your birthday. The sight softens his heart.

He lifted his blanket, tipping his head over to it so you can snuggle in.

Once you are settled, Dan Heng tucks you in before climbing in himself.

"Aren't you uncomfortable with my bed?" He inquires, softly patting your hip to coax you into sleep. "I don't have a comfortable mattress like March and Caelus."

"But yours is the warmest" You shake your head.

"Is that so?" He smiles softly, "Shall I tell you a bedtime story the elders tell the children then?"

"Stories?" You perk up at the suggestion.

The stories from the xianzhou loufu are always fascinating and Dan Heng had a talent for story-telling. Maybe it's because of the fact that he loves reading books that he has a knack for it.

He starts telling you the folklore that he finds fascinating. His voice is low but not too quiet, he expresses the right emotions as needed and fluctuates his voice to immerse you further in the story.

It never fails to amuse Dan Heng on the precious way your eyes would light up at the climax of the story and when he tells you the twists.

You are always so amazed by the folk lore he tells like a little girl.

By the end of the story, you are ironically more exhausted than he is as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

"What a fun and sad story" You yawn, "Are stories from the xianzhou loufu always full of tragedy?"

"Not really, I just chose this story in particular for tonight" He kisses your forehead as a way to apologize, "I'll tell you a happier one next time then, forgive me for this one."

"Nuh-uh... It's okay" You shake your head as your eyes finally close. "I like Dan Heng's stories..."

And just like that, you are asleep in the vidyadhara's arms— Warming his heart all the more at the sight of you so snuggled up on him.

Truth be told, Dan Heng never thought there would come a day wherein he would ever have a lover. He's always busy attending to the data bank and taking care of March and Caelus to spare them from their stupidity. There are times where he is just so over them and lets them be stupid though just so they can have a taste of their medicine.

But with you? He would never do that.

Dan Heng will always keep you out of danger. He wont necessarily direct you to what not to do or what to�� But he will be by your side and ready to extend a guiding hand should you actually need him.

Every boyfriend wants to cherish his dearest darling.

And Dan Heng is no exception to that.

Telling you bedtime stories is just one of the few duties he enjoys doing as your lover and he silently hopes that you keep coming to him to hear all about his culture that he adores.

He presses his lips on yours, applying a chaste kiss before muttering in his native tongue— A silent oath that vidyadharas have to their fated ones. An oath that he binds himself to you. To his beloved. To the one who owns his heart.

꒰ 🪼 A/N: Moshi moshi (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡, this is my official hsr fanfic heuehshab. These four are my most fave in the game currently and I couldn't resist the idea of bedtime with my boys(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠), so here! This is my first official offering and to many more. I will add a few more lovers ofc, but I wanted to kickstart it off with these bbs in particular( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩). ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[kalmeria]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON

[non-plutonian-druid]

So heres the thing about Dredge.

I think its a huge missed opportunity that the main character is the husband and not the wife.

the backstory doesnt come out fully until the end, but when it does, what you learn is this:

some amount of time ago, the player character was married. over the course of the game, you pick up notes from a woman, and at the end you learn that she was your wife.

*was*, because Cthulhu ate her.

you were a fisherman, and obsessed with the ocean, and she was not. you were superstitious, and she was not. And one day, she messed up and did something unlucky, and then she was lost at sea one night when she was on your boat.

it fucks you up so bad that you lose all your memory and end the world trying to save her.

so, obviously you're torn up about her, but also, it kinda didn't have anything to do with you. She fucked up and she got got. whoops! Oh well. It also didn't change very much about you: you're still a superstitious fisherman obsessed with the sea, except you're sad now.

But if you were the wife? If he died instead?

you were happily newlywed, but if you had one issue with your husband, it was that he was too married to the sea. He was too obsessed with fishing. He liked his boat too much, and he had all these sailor superstitions that you don't take seriously.

then one day, you ignore his superstitions. and a horrible eldritch force that you've never even dreamed of KILLS HIM.

your husband is DEAD and it is YOUR FAULT.

and it breaks you. So much that you take his boat, set sail, and spend your life at sea. Just like him. Embroiled in superstition and ocean magic. Just like him. Just like your least favorite parts about him. and you spend the rest of your life trying to undo the horrible thing you did, and only ever manage to end the world.

wouldn't that be so much fun?

[hiraizyo]

running in circles, now look what you’ve done.

synopsis — tension grows between you and daniela as you’re faced with newfound feelings.

friends with benefits, suggestive, fluff, angst, swearing, jealous!reader, lesserafim 6th member!reader

now playing: friends, chase atlantic.

a/n: continuation of this. reader & dani need to get their shit together, reader is also kinda an asshole :/ she’s really trying tho !!! this is like lowk sad-ish WHOOPS. the previous imagine focused mainly on dani, so this one will showcase reader’s feelings :)

++ in honor of reaching 111 followers i wrote this longer than i planned for <3

the week flies by, and before you know it, you’re in LA for a couple days, busying yourself with scheduled photoshoots. you’re jet lagged by the time you’ve landed, wanting to only crawl into bed and sleep for hours. the friday comes and goes, and you’re exhausted by the end of it from the rigorous routine of changing into different outfits and fittings, having your makeup retouched constantly.

currently, you were sitting at the dinner table of your apartment here in LA, impulsively buying it after hearing the complaints of yunjin about staying in hotels every time lesserafim came to the states. your hair was damp from the shower you’d had half an hour ago, and you were nursing a warm cup of tea.

the sound of the face time ringing echoed around the room, leaning back against the chair as you waited for daniela to pick up.

the chiming notes alerted you that your face time was answered, and you smiled immediately seeing the curly haired girl come into frame.

“hey.” you said quietly, but your voice was filled with clear enthusiasm.

daniela shuffled around, her room door closing in the background. “shit, sorry. lara wouldn’t leave me alone.” she leaned back against the headboard, balancing her phone on her knees. “what’s up?”

at the mention of her member, you felt your chest tighten. it wasn’t a secret that all katseye girls were close, and while you were mostly fine with it, something about daniela and lara’s friendship irked you.

you shrugged the feeling off, focusing on the latina in front of you through the screen. “nothing, really. the shoots went well, and i got here about an hour ago.”

daniela nodded, listening intently. “were the outfits any good?”

you grinned, humming loudly. “yep, i think you’ll like them a lot when they’re posted. but fair warning, i looked really hot, so try not to fall in love with me or anything.”

the blonde rolled her eyes in a light hearted manner, “oh please. never in a million years.”

you chuckled, loving the teasing game between you and her. it was times like this when you really enjoyed your friendship, being able to match one another’s energy despite your agreement.

“ouch,” you dramatically placed a hand over your heart, clutching at your chest. “you wound me, dani.”

daniela giggled noisily, smiling so wide that her dimples showed. “i’m excited to see you tomorrow.”

you swallowed down some of your tea, the taste nice and sweet. adjusting yourself in the dining room chair, you propped up your leg to lean your head against it. “me too.”

without realizing it, daniela’s hand reached to play with your necklace around her neck. the action caused you to follow her movements, stomach fluttering.

“so, are you going to tell me about this surprise or what?” she attempted to get it out of you, like she’d been doing for the past week.

“ah uh,” you tutted and cheekily wagged a finger at her. “that’s not how surprises work.”

“pleaseee.” she begged, whining as she threw her head back. daniela looked at you a moment later, trying her best to coax you with her eyes.

“you know your charms don’t work on me like that.” you clicked your tongue, the tug of you slips never leaving.

daniela squinted at you, her voice dropping an octave. “they worked enough to get you into bed with me.”

your reaction was comical, looking gobsmacked at her, mouth hanging open. a second later, a sheepish laughed escaped you as you ducked your head down, trying to hide your blush.

“now we’re shy all of a sudden?” she added on, her teasing grin still in place.

“shut up!” you hollered at her. your body felt warm, and you were sure your cheeks were redder than ever by now.

“i think it’s cute.” daniela told you, beaming at you. her eyes crinkled at the sides as happiness ran through her like electricity.

when you finally recomposed yourself, and daniela decided you’d had enough of her teasing, the conversation flowed easily between you two, going from the different work schedules to shows you were recently into.

time seemed to pass by quickly, and it wasn’t long before telling daniela was telling you her goodbyes after seeing you let out yawn for the second time.

after hanging up and bidding her a goodnight, the remnants of the call lingered with you. though you were tired a second ago, your mind was filled with the thoughts of daniela. a warmth spread from your heart, and you could tell you were carefully threading on the line of thinking her as more than a friend.

the realization scared you, knowing that what was going on between you and her was strictly fun and games.

you were never good with feelings, it was why most of your relationships had ended up in flames, the only exception being kazuha. romantic entanglements always left you feeling empty — whether that was because of the way you saw yourself, pushing others away for self preservation, or the way you’s seen love around you crash and burn, you weren’t sure.

so, with a heavy sigh, you buried it deep inside, deciding to deal with it another day.

you were rarely an angry person, you prided yourself on that. but now, staring at daniela’s instagram story of her and lara, the dark feeling coursed through your veins.

it was a simple photo, one that wouldn’t bother any other person. but what had you clamping your teeth together was the hand placement of lara. her fingers wrapped around daniela’s waist lowly, hugging her close against her body as they stood side by side.

you scoffed, trying to get the image out of your head. daniela would be at your apartment soon, you’d texted her the address earlier in the day, and you didn’t want to ruin your little surprise with your sour mood.

twenty minutes passed by — daniela was late. you usually didn’t fret much on people being on time, especially if it was for a casual hangout, but knowing who the girl was with at the moment blurred your rational thinking.

when she finally reached your place, the door was quickly being closed behind her and she barely had a chance to register her surroundings before you were pressing her against the door, lips attaching to hers.

daniela gasped, startled by your sudden movements. her body melted into yours, fingers digging into the waistband of your pants. your hands fell to her hips, gripping them harshly in the same place lara’s hands were, squeezing the flesh delicately, as if staking your claim. your tongue dipped out to run along her bottom lip, asking for entrance. daniela denied you, leaning her head away as you chased after her.

her hands left your waistband and she placed them on your chest, “someone’s eager.” she chuckled, her lipstick now a mess.

“just missed you,” mumbling hazily, you breathed out in heavy pants. “and i had a really long day yesterday.”

daniela smirked and leaned up until we lips were touching the shell of your ear, whispering lowly. “planning to fuck your frustrations out on me?” she was teasing you, drawing out a deep rumble from you.

one of your hands released the grip on her hip, cupping her jaw as you moved her back to face you and closing the tiny gap between you two.

“you talk too much.”

whatever daniela wanted to say next was swallowed down as you pressed a harsh kiss to her lips once again. you tasted hints of caramel on them, feeling like you addicted and she was your fix.

your body pressed further into hers until your hips rocked together, and your hand made its way into her hair, wrapping your fingers around her curls. daniela’s hands on your chest trailed over until they were gripping your bicep, digging her nails into them. she sighed heavenly, kissing you back with just as much force.

when the need for air was too much, you both parted, breathing heavily. your mind was still reeling from the jealousy you felt, so you hung you head low as your forehead was placed on the junction between daniela’s neck and shoulder.

her body slumped against the door, skin tingling as your hands snuck under her shirt, holding onto her torso.

you were breathing together now, as if you were one person. chest to chest, daniela’s heart beat rapidly against her rib cage. she couldn’t tell that your eyes were closed, trying to recollect yourself, and when you pulled away from, the silver chain of your necklace caught your attention.

at the sight of it, your mind cleared. the jealousy faded away and all that was left was a warm glow in your chest.

your fingers delicately took hold of the necklace, smiling gently. “you’re wearing it.”

daniela gazed at you, pupils dilating. “of course.” she said quietly, “it feels like i have a part of you with me.”

your breath hitched at her words, stuttering for a moment. her hand reached for yours, the necklace dropping around her neck as your fingers locked together.

“tell me about the surprise now.” daniela peered at you, pouting lightly.

you chuckled, finally stepping away from her and pulled her along with you, your hands never letting go of one another.

gesturing around you with your free hand, your lips tugging into a smile seeing the fully furnished place. it was an open floor plan, big enough to have two couches in place, a coffee table, an entertainment system with a flat screen tv, and a dining room on the other end of the room.

daniela looked around, taking in the place though her confusion was visible. you quietly snickered to yourself, running your thumb along the back of her hand.

“i bought it a while ago so that whenever the girls and i come to the states we have a place to crash.” you briefly explained, a gentle smile gracing your features as you observed daniela’s reaction.

“i wanted you to be the first to see it.”

in an instant, her stare shot from looking at the decor to yours. her grip tightened, squeezing your hand for a short second.

and there it was, the stars in her eyes.

hanging in air was the unspoken feelings between you and daniela. the atmosphere around you was soft and intimate, falling deeper into one another.

“yn…” she laughed breathlessly, “this place is amazing.”

you shrugged, keeping your gaze on her as she looked around for a second time. “i figured a hotel would be too risky, especially with paparazzi, so i thought we could spend the night here.”

daniela looked at you again, her grin widening. she used your intertwined hands to pull you closer until your body crashed into hers. she kissed you gently, with such passion and intimacy it made your head spin.

you stopped the kiss for a brief moment, tugging her into the direction of the hallway, a dark glint in yours eyes.

“come on,” you faced her, walking backwards. “the rest of the surprise is in the bedroom.”

daniela giggled, kissing you once again. you laughed together as you made your way to the bedroom in a flurry of kisses, yanking on one another’s clothes and almost tripping over your own feet in your rushed movements.

soft music echoed around the apartment, you and daniela sitting together on couch cushions by the coffee table. takeout boxes were littered on the glass surface, the food half eaten.

there’s a certain comforting feeling surrounding the both of you. daniela was wearing one of your oversized shirts, the sleeve reaching her elbow.

you sighed contentedly, wiping your hands on a napkin and tossing it into the table. “i forgot how hungry sex makes you.”

daniela chortled, “what a romantic thing to say.”

“i try.” you shrugged lightly, grinning like a cat.

she shoved your arm softly, mumbling something incoherent under her breath. you broke into a fit of giggles at her faux angry look. her eyebrows were scrunched together cutely, and her lips were pressed together in a thin line.

you softly nudged on her frown lines, earning a swat on your hand from the latina. she tried to seem annoyed, but the smile you had caused for her own to form.

the two of you settle in a pleasant silence, enjoying one another’s presence. you felt content, thinking you could get used to nights like this with daniela.

“can i ask you something?” her voice breaks the peacefulness. you hummed, leaning your back against the couch and looked at her, tilting your head towards her.

daniela paused, contemplating if she really wanted to ask this. it’d been on her mind for weeks now, ever since the conversation with megan, and the curiosity was killing her. her fingers were wringing together in nervous. she spoke so softly, you had to strain your ear in order to hear her.

“why didn’t you tell me about kazuha?”

the question hangs in the air. you hadn’t expected her to ask this, you weren’t even aware she knew about your and your group member.

“mmh?” your eyebrows creased together, now facing daneila.

“you and kazuha.” she repeated, voice firm. “why didn’t you mention it?”

the latina watched you carefully as you sighed and sat up, staring in front of you. the sudden shift in the room weighed on her, and she feared she had said something wrong. she opened her mouth to tell you never mind, to forget she even asked, but your voice stopped her.

“i didn’t say anything because i didn’t think it was important.” you shrugged carelessly, longingly looking ahead of you. “kazuha and i were together around the time of our debut. she and i were getting closer, and it just sorta… happened.”

you swallowed down a lump that formed at the memories briefly playing in your head. “but it’s over. it was over long before you and i started this.”

in a flash, the memories left your mind. your chest felt heavy, but the lingering scent of daniela’s perfume brought you back. you reminded yourself that kazuha was in the past, and you were better off as friends in any case.

daniela couldn’t stop herself from staring at you, your body language now closed off. it was clear that her question had changed the mood.

“okay.” she mumbled, hushed and quiet.

as you struggled between your past and present, you wet your bottom lip, suddenly becoming aware that you had never spoken about kazuha before, so how did daniela hear about it?

you looked her at in suspicion, “how did you know about that, anyways?”

“does it matter how i know?” daniela retorted quickly, eyebrow raised in defense.

“yes.” you stated, your voice indicating that you were beginning to feel annoyed. “because the only people who’re aware about kazuha and i are my members, and if you knew then you must be talking to one of them, or something.”

“i’m not talking to any of your members, yn.” daniela denied, feeling as if your accusing tone was uncalled for.

“good.” finally turning to look into her eyes, you gave her a pointed gaze. “we agreed to keep this a secret, remember?”

“how can i not remember? you never let me forget it.” she countered bitterly, folding her arms on her lap tightly.

the gravity of the situation took a turn, you could sense it. what was once calm waters was now turning into a high tide. the feelings you and daniela kept hidden beneath the surface came bubbling out in the worst way possible.

daniela was getting defensive and rightfully so, while you had displeasure overpowering your emotions, acting irrationally, spewing out words without giving it an ounce of thought.

“dani, our members can’t know.” you stressed, sitting up to face her fully. “they’ll just try and get involved, ask all sorts of questions, worry about us.”

the blonde squinted at you in disbelief, waving her hand around. “obviously they’ll worry, they’re our friends.”

“it doesn’t matter!” you screeched out, face contorting into one of anger. “it’s better for the both of us to be a secret.”

you got up from your position on the floor, setting the couch cushion back in its place on the furniture. daniela followed your movements, standing across from you, and even though you were right in front of her, it suddenly felt as if you were miles apart.

“right, a secret.” daniela scoffed, looking off to the side. her arms were rigid at her side, clicking her tongue over her teeth.

“or are you just worried how a certain member will react if she finds out?” she questioned, using the same accusing tone you had on her.

you brushed your fingers through your hair, messing it up even more. all you could do was stare at her, jaw clenched at this unbelievable impression she had of you and kazuha.

you blinked, gaze now glaring at her. “don’t do that..” you sighed, shaking your head.

“do what?” she asked, titling her head mockingly.

“say things like that and expect me to read between the lines!” you yelled out, the anger you felt now being put out in the open.

it was alarming how quickly daniela’s demeanor changed. in a split second, her look of wrath and jealousy turned into a blank expression. she swallowed, her throat bobbing up and down. the latina looked around the room, her body feeling exhausted from her rise in temper.

“i think i should go.” she announced, gesturing to the door.

“fine.” you waved, shutting yourself away from her. your voice was cold, “go.”

daniela huffed, not sparing you a second glance as she hurriedly collected her things. when she exited the bedroom, coming out from the hallway fully dressed, you were still standing the place she left you.

a part of her wanted you to stop her, tell her to stay, tell her that everything would be alright. but her desires weren’t met as you stood rooted in your spot. her heart clenched, wondering if this was the end.

with final look, she took her leave.

the door shutting behind her had you gasping for air, the little argument taking its toll on you. you screwed your eyes shut, your mind spiraling with thoughts.

what the fuck just happened? you asked yourself, the takeout on the coffee table reminding of how quickly the night took a turn.

falling back onto the couch and slumping into the softness of it, your hand reached to rub the back of your neck. guilt consumed you, regret taking its hold over you. your hands trembled, stuffing your face into them as you replayed the quarrel in your head.

daniela was long gone from the apartment building, and your heart was taken with her.

it wasn’t the end, at least not yet.

you and daniela didn’t talk for days, the last conversation being the one in your apartment. even when you’d left to go back to south korea, you contemplated texting her, but ultimately decided against it.

you were both feeling the aftermath of everything, coping in your own ways. and how that worked for you, was to binge watch your favorite comfort show. your members joined here and there, they could tell something was up with you but they didn’t ask any questions, knowing that you needed the space and you would talk when you were ready.

it didn’t stop them from speculating, though. yunjin had a feeling that it was to do with daniela, hearing from megan and sophia that the latina wasn’t doing well either. she voiced her concerns to the members, and it was kazuha who promised she’d talk to you when the time was right.

as you got up from your bed to get a drink from the fridge, your phone began to ring. slugging yourself towards it, daniela’s name was clear and bright on your screen.

your heart quickened and your throat felt constricted. why was she calling? what did she have to say to you? when you answered the call, the last thing you expected was for her to be sounding angry, again.

“what fucking shit are you trying to pull?”

you frowned, sitting down on at the foot of the bed. feeling ticked off at her, you matched her fiery tone. “i’m sorry? you don’t talk to me for days and now you’re calling, yelling at me?”

on the other end, daniela rolled her eyes. the rest of the kats were all pilled into the lounge, planning for a movie marathon to cheer up their friend. they could hear her yells from the other room, glancing around at one another in concern.

“shut it,” she barked out. daniela’s hand was on her hip, visibly enraged. “what’s with the gift, huh?”

confusion was etched onto your face. “what are you talking about?”

daniela grumbled, “the gift, yn.” she hollered out, staring at a black box that sat on the kitchen island. the lid of the box lay next to it, while a silver bracelet delicately resting inside. “why is there a gift at the house with my name on it?”

hearing this, you slumped your shoulders and pressed a hand to your forehead. “shit.” you mumbled, the matching bracelet of your necklace slipped your mind once you came back home.

“i ordered it last week while i was in cali. it would take a couple days to get to you, but i forgot about it, dani.” you offered an explanation for the situation. “it was meant to be a surprise.”

daniela’s anger faded. she looked at the silver bracelet and reached out to touch it, gently. her emotions were all over the place, feeling confusion and resentment, but she also couldn’t deny the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach at the gesture.

“what does it mean?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

you stilled, breath being caught in your throat. now would be your chance to tell everything you’d been feeling the past month and a half, but something was stopping you.

what if daniela didn’t feel the same way? what if everything thats been happening was nothing her? what if, when you finally showed all yourself, daniela wouldn’t like what she saw?

as if on instinct, you shut your eyes and did what you do best — shoving your feelings deep inside, locking it away.

“nothing.”

daniela dropped the bracelet back in its place inside the box. hurt washed over her, reality had finally set in. “are you being for real?”

“the gift means nothing, dani.” you told her, even if your heart was screaming at you. “i saw it and thought you’d like it. i don’t know what else you want me to say.”

daniela stood in the katseye dorm, her walls finally crashing down. you both knew that this wasn’t the kind of gift you’d get someone for it to mean nothing, especially when it involved a relationship like yours and daniela’s.

much like the last time you’d seen one another, daniela did her best to mask her feelings. if you could see her now, you’d notice the tears that welled in her eyes, threatening to fall. she took in a deep breath, her voice wavering.

“don’t talk to me again.” daniela uttered, her vision blurry. “ever.”

she hang up from the call, and the second she did a cry ripped from her chest. her stomach was churning, throat feeling blocked as she choked out a sob.

the katseye girls rushed into the space where she was, watching as daniela’s whole world crumbled around her. manon took her into her arms, and daniela knew then she’d finally have to let her members in on her secret arrangement with you.

she definitely wasn’t looking forward to that.

the end of the call left a ringing in your ears, you barely registered how your phone fell from you hands and dropped onto the floor, the thud reverberating around you.

your eyes were beginning to sting. unblinking, you felt your hands shake. everything was spilling out all at once.

a knock was heard at the door, and then kazuha came into the room, noticing your vacant look. you didn’t take any note of her, continuing to stare ahead of you.

she walked towards you, cautiously, slowly, and it was only once kazuha kneeled in front of you did she see the millions of emotions in your eyes.

“yn, are you okay?” her voice broke your daze.

you gasped, chest aching. “zuha…” you called, choking on your words. “i think i really fucked things up with daniela.”

“what do you mean?” kazuha frowned, her hand being placed on your thigh. the weight of the her hand made it feel as if you were being awakened from a dream.

wiping away a stray tear that fell, you wet your lips, finally revealing what had been going on behind the curtains. “dani and i — ahem — we were hooking up. for the past several months, she and i would meet each other secretly. and… i-i couldn’t stop it, zuha. i kept having all these the feelings. and- and i didn’t know what to do.”

kazuha’s eyes widened at your state, seeing the walls around you break down. you were gasping for breath, clutching at your chest. your stomach felt as if it was being twisted, like you would throw up at any moment.

the japanese struggled to find the words to comfort you, but she didn’t need to as you began to speak again.

your voice shook, blinking slowly. “i got her this gift, and i told her it meant nothing.”

kazuha got off her knees, sitting besides you. the bed dipped, “did it?” she questioned.

you shook your head faintly, “no.” your hands grasped at kazuha’s, desperately holding on to them. “i don’t know. fuck, i’ve probably ruined our entire friendship too.”

the dark haired girl pulled your hands onto her lap, forcing you to look at her. it was a sight to behold — seeing her usually stoic member breaking down, eyes red and body shaking.

“hey, listen to me.” she leaned her head down until you were looking into her eyes. “you hid your arrangement pretty well, y’know. but i’ve seen the way you talk about her, the way you look at her. i know how you get when you have feelings for someone.”

she smiled gently, cupping your cheek as she wiped away your tears. kazuha had a warmth about her that made it easy to fall into her touch.

“she told me to never talk to her again.” you mumbled, a few more tears seeped out.

“so what?” kauzha shrugged. her eyes were gentle, furrowing her eyebrows together as she cradled your face in her hands. “you can’t push her away just because you think you’re unloveable.”

this was a delicate situation, and your emotions were at its highest. she needed to tread with caution, but her blunt honesty was necessary to realize your mistakes.

“everything i touch breaks, zuha.” your voice cracked, pain evident in it. you whispered it to her, “even with you and me.”

kazuha muttered no’s under her breath, denying you the opportunity to blame yourself even for a second. “we only ended because we were better off as friends, you know that.”

she spoke with conviction, but the soft features of her face lightened her words. “i get the past hasn’t been kind to you, but you can’t let it ruin your relationships anymore.” kazuha looked deep your eyes as they shone with heartache. “i can tell you really, really like her.”

you nodded, heart pounding. “more than anything.”

kazuha smiled at the quick response, “then let her know.”

her words made your lips tremble, knowing that your relationship with daniela had already crumbled. “she’s not going to want to speak to me after that call. i mean, how do i— wh- what am i even supposed to say?”

the girl pulled you closer, speaking in a rushed manner. “everything. tell her how you feel, why you acted like that. why you were so scared. you have to let her in, yn.”

your eyes were darting around, trying to regain control of yourself. your bottom lip was caught between your teeth, breathing fitfully.

kazuha could tell you were close to a panic attack at all the emotions you were feeling. you’d been carrying this weight on your shoulders for so long, hiding your feelings for daniela since the very first night you stayed at her place.

she rested her forehead against yours, reminding you to breathe. your eyes squeezed shut, as you listened to her mutter sweet nothings, running a hand through your hair to calm you down.

when the worst of it had passed, your head rested in the crook of her neck, falling into her. your breathing had evened out, and your body ached with exhaustion of the emotional breakthrough.

you lips brushed against her skin, “thank you, zuha.” the girl smiled, patting your back until you eyes began to feel droopy.

PLEASE DONT HATE ME Y’ALL 💔 it gets worse before it gets better :/

i MIGHT publish a fluffy lara fic to heal from this lmao, but the next part yn & dani are happy again gang :)

[harufluff]

asking them to marry you on over the phone (unironically)

warnings - cursing, but that should be it.

genre - crack, fluff, bf!enhypen x fem!reader, established relationship au

wc - 1.1k

inspired by ‘you’re here that’s the thing’ by beabadoobee

yang jungwon

was stunned

actually thought he was having a heart attack for a second

he was doing something as simple as eating his gummies when you suddenly blurted out

"oh god- marry me."

man nearly choked on his gummy

more under the cut :))

"EXCUSE ME??"

if you were joking that was a bad idea cause he is fully prepared to marry you right that second >:(

either way, he's flattered

he thinks its honoring that you feel comfortable enough to say that

eventually you convince him to stop freaking out (it took way too long)

but even then, it still makes the heat rush to his face

thankfully it was just on facetime, so you couldn't see the red at the tips of his ears too much

he knows he's down bad fr 😋��

lee heeseung

on the other hand mr i'm so confident on stage was like a little puddle

genuinely thought he heard you wrong at first

he was just sitting there zoning out for like two minutes and finally snapped out of it when he heard you say

"just marry me, you dork."

you thought it was funny lol 😎😎

probably should have thought that through cause you just messed up his heart with two words

"w-wait did you just- what did you say?!"

poor hee was so confused

"idk what did i say..."

"YOU SAID MARRY ME IDIOT"

"oh yea lol"

"FUCK YOU YOU CANT JUST SAY THAT"

he was a tad bit mad

just a little

literally walked over to your place so he could give you hugs and kisses 😤

park jay

he's been ready for this moment his entire life

literally got mad cause he wanted to say it

it ended with you having to beg him to stop talking

jay was cooking for the boys with you on facetime cause he was bored and everyone else would get in his way

so he gave you a call and you ended up staying on a call with him for over two hours

but the second he started tasting his food like the gourmet chef he is👌👌

suddenly he heard some of the best words he'll ever hear in his life

"ughhh- when we get married will you cook for me?"

poor baby whipped his head around so fast he almost broke it

"WHAT?? NOW?? BUT WERE ON THE PHONE AND- HEY YOU TOOK MY JOB I WAS SUPPOSED TO ASK YOU!!"

at this point you were staring at your phone with a blank stare

"what."

"you said marriage. you're stuck with me you can't leave me haha sucks for you."

"its ok i didnt want to anyway." 😊

whoops you just killed him with a smushy heart

sim jaehyun

he screamed

long story short, he almost fainted and quite literally did that "mrs rabbit has fainted" thing

the two of you were folding your own laundry together on facetime because, well, he gets lonely

obviously you said yes, because why wouldn't you??

"you look so cute and domestic, i love it. i could marry you this second if i could."

took him a couple of seconds

but eventually your words processed through his head and he SCREAMED

"THIS SECOND??"

"mhm!! you look cute." 😚

another puddle guess what you're the mop. come wipe up your jake puddle babe

he laid on the floor for a solid five minutes just processing.

anyway now hes at your house still a little jake puddle and he's making you watch movies with him on the couch.

park sunghoon

he was ready 🫡🫡

hoon got the phone and everything. he was ready to make the call to all the family

but obviously before that he took it a TINI TINY bit seriously

a tini tiny bit

basically it was morning and he was on tour so he was sad and alone (besides sunoo who was just offended that he even said that)

babe started drinking water until he heard

"i miss you a lot. when we get married, you're not aloud to do this to me."

spit water out of his mouth

it was kinda gross but did he care? no.

"MARRIED?? WHO SAID I WAS GETTING MARRIED TO YOU??"

he's a little mean when he's flustered ok?

"PARK SUNGHOON I'LL-"

"wait, you wanna get married to me? really??"

if you could slap him in the face you would, but truth is he was flattered.

he would marry you any day 💘💘

kim sunoo

also went along with it

you were going through all the snacks you found at the market with sunoo over facetime

to say the least he was just excited you were excited

"i got this thingy, and im not really sure what it is but it looks good."

the call went on with you eating the snacks and reviewing

"WAIT THIS IS SO GOOD SUN YOU HAVE TO TRY THIS SOMETIME."

"ill try it sometime then."

"we have to get it together and maybeeee you can buy it??"

"ill buy you any snacks you want, my love." 😋

"ugh marry me already."

SELF DESTRUCTION

"ANYTIME"

next time you go over to his place he had a little toilet paper boquet for you 😊😊

STOP I LOVE HIM

nishimura riki

my babe fr

another one who was a little too confident

you were on a ft with him late at night just for funsies

honestly the two of you were just messing around while eating snacks and making little crafts

anyway he was like quite literally about to fall asleep and he looked SO DAMN CUTE

like his eyes about to close and his lip is getting all pouty and UGH-

"night, ki"

"nooo i'm not asleep don't leave meeeee"

"lol you're so cute just marry me"

EYES ARE SHOT WIDE OPEN MAN HAS NEVER BEEN MORE AWAKE IN HIS LIFE

"married huh?? you're really that obsessed with me"

huh- OH WAIT THAT WAS A JOKE THO"

"NOT ANYMORE BABE IT'S REAL NOW"

aaaaaaand again you're stuck 😋😊

i literally love him sm

©harufluff 2023

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[roosterr]

i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on." 

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move. 

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed. 

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera. 

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod. 

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches  over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud,  leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap." 

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

[jazzyoranges]

i love you write! can i req where shapeshifter reader's Super high after hanging out with stoners and shift to grizzly bear and can't shift back to human form enid report to wednesday, also reader just talk random shet that all wednesday hear was bear grumbling and whining?, tq 3<

New heights

Wednesday Addams x fem!shapeshifter!reader

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: implied drug use, you’re kinda a dumbass lol, my attempt at humor

A/n: writers block is kicking my ass whoops… also happy new years!

uehdhd nsedd uew gdhjs ppppspsodod hsdf

“Wednesday, can you decipher this?” Enid gets up from her bed to show her roommate the text she just got from you, which seemed to be just a bunch of random letters

“What makes you think I’m going to understand better than you.” Wednesday raises an eyebrow at Enid from where she’s sitting at her desk

“I dunno, she’s your girlfriend? Girlfriend telepathy or something”

“I recall her telling me she was, to put it bluntly, getting high with friends tonight.”

“And you didn’t think to lead with that! Do you know where she is?”

“Knowing her, the forest.”

“And you let her!?” Enid exclaims, a hand racking through her hair

“(Y/n)’s the scariest thing in there. Worst comes to worst she comes out with a few scratches.” The blonde is about to respond when her phone pings with another few messages from you

hey uh tell wednesday to come pick up her girlfriend (10:27)

i think (Y/n)’s lost it (10:27)

i’m her friend btw (10:27)

FUCK PLEASE HURRY SHE’S NOT MENTALLY STABLE ANYMSO (10:28)

“Alright put on your big girl pants, we’re getting your girlfriend” Enid’s phone rings with an incoming facetime from you, and she scrambles to click join. What she doesn’t expect is the face of one of your friends, looking a little more than worried

“Oh, thank god! I’m sorry for bad first impressions, but-“ A whine is heard in the background your friend turns to the noise

“Chill out dude, your girlfriend is right here!” He turns back to Enid

“Please put Wednesday on, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a bear cry before” Wednesday perks up at her name and swiftly takes the phone from Enid. Your friend turns around the phone so now the two roommates are looking at a grizzly bear that stands on its hind legs, whining and maybe even sobbing

“(Y/n).” Wednesday says, and you snap your head towards the phone held in front of you

Now aware of your girlfriends face in front of you, you get back down onto all fours and boop the screen with your nose

“Wednesday, I missed you! Y’know I was just out here, getting high with my friends as one does, and then all of a sudden I was really sad! Then I started thinking really hard why that might be and I realized it was because you weren’t here! You know how I ugly cry, right? Well I started doing that but for some reason my friends didn’t really understand what I was saying, but I know you’d understand! So that’s why we’re here. Also, I think I might’ve had a growth spurt. I feel really tall and big right now”

Just by the shaking of your phone on the other end of the call, Enid knows her feelings of confusion and maybe fear are shared when you start to grumble and whine. Only you would be able to ramble as a fucking grizzly bear

“C-Connection’s bad, please say something!” Your friend squeaks behind the phone, and Wednesday resists the urge to roll her eyes. It was you, after all. No reason to be scared

“Enid, make sure she doesn’t freak out. I’ll go pick her up.” Wednesday sighs, grabbing her jacket and giving Enid her phone back. She hears you whine even more when you can’t see Wednesday in frame anymore

“(Y/n), can you…” Is the last thing Wednesday hears before leaving the dorm. For an academy that had a curfew, they were astonishingly bad at keeping it upheld. A turn here, climb up that wall, don’t touch that grass near the academy, and boom you’re in the forest before Enid can post something on her blog about Xavier and Bianca’s relationship

You weren’t very difficult to find. The wailing of a bear basically echoed in the forest and claw marks on trees made a clear path to the place you and your friends were getting high at. Well, were getting high at. Wednesday almost wants to watch your friends stay scared behind trees as you claw at the ground below you even more as Enid’s attempts at calming you down seem to be futile

“Wednesday’s almost there, (Y/n)! Maybe just a few more minutes?”

“But I want her now!!” You cry, falling to the ground on your furry stomach with a loud thump

“We’ve already established you’re a bear! We don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, dude!” Your friends voice cracks

“There are two wolves inside of me…” Your head snaps at the sound of a twig snapping in the forest. You stand up on your hind legs, hoping to intimidate whoever seems to be in the forest with you. You’ve already pissed on every tree so no way another bear would dare challenge you for territory

“Who’s there!”

“Don’t get your fur matted, it’s just me.” Wednesday makes her presence known by a chill in the air, which makes your friend jump but ultimately hide behind her. At first he touches her shoulder but the glare she sends his way makes him rethink his life. Luckily he gets out of the way before you barrel towards Wednesday. This time, as a giant tiger

The Addams is quickly tackled to the floor with your entire body weight on her. Your tongue would probably hurt Wednesday if you licked hard enough so you opt for chuffing wildly while having all the characteristics of a needy house cat. You had to make your peace with not being able to purr as a tiger. Which, you were always mad about. “If big cat, why no purr?” as you’d say

“(Y/n).” Wednesday embraces you. Her hands rack through your fur with calculated fingers that knew where to pet you. Under your stomach, behind the ears, and anywhere on your neck. She also knew where your pressure points were, but there’s no fun in dragging a tiger back to Nevermore

You chuff in response, not planning to stop smothering your girlfriend

“(Y/n).” Wednesday tries again. She fails.

“(Y/n).” This time, the look on your girlfriends face makes you stop your smothering. You blow air into her face with a tilt of your head

“Human, now.” You huff in Wednesday’s face while unwillingly getting off of her. Despite her protest you stay a tiger as you walk over to your friend, who looks confused as ever. Giving him a small nod, you take your phone out of his hand with your mouth and let him pet your head

Next, you scoop up Wednesday on your back while deciding it’s a better time than ever to leave

“S-Same time next week?” Your friend calls behind you. You give him the best smile you can whilst your phone is still in your mouth

You’re halfway out the forest when Wednesday finally decides to talk to you again

“For the record, I’m not doing this again the same time next week.”

//-//

Bonus:

Enid opens her door to; you, who’s taken Wednesday’s jacket with a shit eating grin and Wednesday, who’s glaring at you with what looks to be either murder or adoration.

[hyperions-light]

hey I was planning another post today but instead let’s talk about how much I love that there’s not really a ‘good’ ending to the companion plotlines in Veilguard. It reminds me of Leliana and Alistair’s plotlines in DAO in that what you choose says more about the player/protagonist than anything

I just finished Isana Negat a second time, and I did the other ending and I thought it was just as good. Like, yeah, Harding does deserve to be angry! They did fucking get everything taken away from them! It’s so painful and horrific; yes you can, and should, be mad! But also Harding prioritizing her very real love for and compassion towards other people is not wrong. It’s just different! It’s just Rook’s friend/lover asking them for advice, and Rook giving it! You know, like in real life except with huge magical rock giants

And okay I’m never going to kill Illario because I think it would make Luca really sad and he has enough problems, Whoops I misremembered this, I don’t think you can kill Illario actually. I love that for Luca <3 But yk, I’m probably still not going to imprison him. but I can see it! Because the cycle has to end, right? The violence and infighting of the Crows endlessly attacking each other over power is part of what allowed the Antaam to get a foothold in Antiva, because there was like a double agent or something (if I’m remembering right from Tev Nights). Some kind of ending needs to be made to this endless violence. And I suppose it depends on how retributive Rook is, which is a great question to ask of the player (one that is asked repeatedly throughout the game). It’s not like Illario didn’t do anything, you know! He probably deserves punishment. But Rook, as they always can at various points, can be merciful, can choose absolution. Wow no, I’m glad I was wrong I love it more like this.

And oh boy, I LOVED the ending of Emmrich’s quest, don’t even get me started! Like!! I thought it was going to be ‘well obviously we HAVE to save Manfred’, but how Emmrich talks about accepting his death and his sacrifice convinced me! I was like alright man, this is a real choice! I actually did make him a lich last time (made a lot of sense from a Watcher perspective, imo) and not only was the cutscene sick as hell, but the follow-up was so funny and I got some really sad Spite dialogue which fucking wrecked me. It was great— seriously, his plotline is one of my favorites in the whole game.

And Davrin’s! I’ve already expounded at length about how much I like his quest line and how it ties into the Grey Wardens, but I really think both of his options for the griffons are so workable, because you know the Grey Wardens, especially under Antione and Evka, aren’t going to hurt those little guys again! But also the scenes with Eldrin are so endearing, and Davrin’s hope for a brighter future for them is so sweet and genuine. It’s hard to pick! It’s about Rook's perspective!

Neve's I'll admit I don't vibe with as much just because of the like 'trust the authorities' angle, but i haven't tried saving Minrathous yet and I think it would be sooooo involving as a Shadow Dragon especially. Because that's what they're fighting for, right? That better Minrathous where they CAN be sure that if they send the insane cultist lady to prison she’s going to stay there? But there’s always the practical consideration of people’s lives being at stake NOW, of Neve needing her friends safe NOW. And just killing Aelia ensures she will never be an issue again. So I can see both angles for sure

And Taash ;-; oh, Taash. I haven’t posted about them that much yet because they make me very emotional and it’s hard to organize thoughts like that. But I really love their quest, and their struggle to define themselves. And look, I know people wanted the option to tell them they could be both, but like as a person who has lived a similar experience, it really feels sometimes like the world is making you choose. It can feel like you’re not enough of either thing for anyone. And there are parts of your identity that you will have to make a choice on, and I think it’s trying to speak to that. I did the Rivaini one, and it’s like… well, they’re embracing the culture of Rivain, but it’s not like anyone is ever going to look at them and NOT see a Qunari. You can’t get away from that. What you choose to do in response is a real dilemma and I think that if you engage with the text genuinely you can see what Trick was doing. Also, there is a really great dialogue from Rook that I think gives more context to the discussion; they can say that they have been many things, and it’s important to take what works from each experience and make it part of yourself. So I don’t think Taash’s plot is trying to make them throw away any of themselves, just defining priorities. (Sorry, that got long. Feelings, opinions about that one)

And I don’t think Bellara’s is obvious, either, especially with how they involve the Nadas Dirthalen in her personal plot. This is a thing that is really emotionally and culturally significant to her, but at the same time it is part of what hurt her brother and ultimately took him away from her. She’s really preoccupied with not causing harm by her actions; she spends the whole game worried about it! And even though Rook doesn’t see the dangerous elements of the repository, that doesn’t mean they’re not there. The puzzle quest you can find in Arlathan proves that other people besides Cyrian were taken in by Anaris. And also, there’s the plot thread they briefly touched on in the last game which is that the culture the Dalish have built, that they have RIGHT NOW, is not wrong. But it’s also important to remember history, even if it’s unpleasant or could be dangerous, which is another thing you can discuss with Bellara during the game. So there’s no wrong choice! It’s just about Rook and Bellara and what’s important from their perspectives.

Anyway it was super refreshing to have these kinds of choices! It reminds me of the best character choices in DAI and DAO, especially, and I’m so happy they carried those things forward and improved on them.

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 6

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10)

I meant to post this on January 1st since we didn't get a new episode that day, but then I got distracted making gifsets and writing other meta. Oh, and I was also busy finally watching the show with my mother. Whoops. But my thoughts on episode 6 are finally here! ENJOY <3

Pronoun situation: As usual, just assume Fadel and Style use the rude guu/mueng with each other unless I point out a significant pronoun switch.

To recap: Style has spent all of last episode coming to terms with the fact that he was falling in love with someone who regularly kills people. By the end of the episode he has come to a conscious decision that he wants to be with Fadel no matter what. Fadel ends up spending the night in Style's bed where they have a significant conversation about trust before they make love. "Making love", because love is finally most definitely involved in the act.

No. 1: Morning Cardio

It's the morning after and probably the very first morning in their relationship that they wake up together. They bicker and Style finally gets his morning cardio in. All is good, all is well, everyone is happy, no one is sad. I desperately try to repress any memories of how this episode ends in order to get through this scene without sobbing. I end up crying anyway as I think about how the first time they hooked up Fadel abandoned Style on the floor of a cold, dark room after punching him in the gut and now Fadel is lying on top of Style, cuddling and kissing him in a warm room filled with the brightest sunshine.

Anyway, so Fadel wakes up Style who really doesn't want to get up yet. Fadel chides Style for not setting an alarm. But Style won't lie there and get scolded again and so he immediately scolds Fadel back: "I told you to hold back and you didn’t listen to me, either." And since everyone loves the language tidbits so much, here is the literal translation of the "I told you to hold back" part:

Last night I told you to stop เมื่อคืนอ่ะ กูบอกให้มึงหยุด [mêuua keun - àh • guu - bòk - hâi mueng - yùt] last night - [particle] • I - tell - for you to - stop

As grumpy as Style is about being woken up and having to get out of bed, there's a lot of amusement in his voice when he says this and his facial expression is also warm as he looks at Fadel. But then he closes his eyes again and immediately goes back to being a little morning grump as he dramatically laments that his body is sore and that he oh so sadly can't go to work. Fadel is now so relaxed around Style that he finally starts cracking jokes and playing along with Style's antics, offering to take Style to the hospital while trying to scoop Style up bridal style (haha. style. 🤭) in order to take him just there. But it's too early in the day for these games and Style really does not wanna leave the bed just yet. And so he impatiently complains about Fadel trying to carry him, and then explains: "I was just being overdramatic." In Thai, the word that was translated as "overdramatic" is สำออย [săm-oi] which my native speaker friend defined as "pretending to be weak about something" and explained that it's a negative word that is mostly used to make sarcastic remarks. That would certainly fit with Style's slight morning grumpiness. I also looked up the word on thai2english which defines the word as following:

[to] look for sympathy (by acting excessively sad or crying)

Style wasn't exactly crying when he complained about his body being sore, but he sure was looking for sympathy. So he clarifies that he was only pretending and that Fadel didn't need to maneuver him out of bed and then goes on to say: "I know you’re like a block of walking ice, but you should learn to read between the lines." In Thai Style uses the word อารมณ์ [ah-rom] here which translates to "mood" or "feeling" or "emotion":

An ice wall like you should learn to read other people's mood/emotions. กำแพงน้ำแข็งแบบมึงอ่ะหัดอ่านอารมณ์คนอื่นบ้าง [gam-paeng náam kăeng - bàep - mueng - àh - hàt - àan - aa-rom - kon èun - bâang] ice wall - like - you - [particle] - practice - read - mood, emotion - others - some

And Style's current mood is "staying in bed" and "wanting to be babied". The message finally reaches Fadel and he pushes Style back onto the pillow. He props himself up above Style and comes back to what Style was saying about his muscles being sore. "They say we should hit it right where it hurts. It’s like exercising. That’s how your body builds stronger muscles." Style responds with a challenge: "Thanks for the trivia, but I don’t see why you’re telling me this." In Thai he actually phrases it like a question:

[...] but what are you telling me this for? แต่บอกกูเพื่ออะไรเนี่ย [dtàe - bòk - guu - pêuua à-rai - nîia] but - tell - I/me - what for, why - [particle]

(Alt. translation: But why are you telling me this?)

I personally prefer it phrased as a question because it makes the challenge a little more direct. With the exception of rhetorical questions, a question encourages a response. With Style phrasing it like a question, Fadel is pretty much obliged to respond because a question is expected to be followed by an answer. And the answer is? "You need to exercise daily."

Fadel leans down and starts pampering Style with kisses. By now Style's morning grumpiness has faded away completely and is replaced by contentment instead as the lyrics "And now I'm yours / All yours, baby / Now I'm yours" play. Now they are officially each other's. They are officially in love.

No. 2: Awkward Encounters

Unexpectedly, Style's dad returns from his fishing trip just in time to catch Fadel leaving the garage. Style walks in on his dad having a very awkward interview with Fadel and comes to Fadel's rescue. By now Style is much more awake and in a considerably brighter mood than he was right after waking up. His dad immediately starts teasing him about Fadel, but Style isn't having it. He shoots his dad down by calling Fadel his "friend" (part of me wonders if he does that because maybe Fadel and Style haven't really discussed how open/official they wanna be with their relationship outside their inner circle of KB/FS and he doesn't just wanna drop the news to his dad without checking in with Fadel first), he lets his dad know he is being embarrassing and then gently sends Fadel away, releasing him from this very uncomfortable situation that he was suddenly trapped in. And I just adore the way Style stares after Fadel, watching him leave without tearing away his gaze:

Even when his dad starts making a teasing sound, Style takes a moment to fully process that his dad is talking to him while he himself is too busy looking at Fadel and having his attention and thoughts fully on his boyfriend. It's only when his dad starts speaking properly that Style finally turns his head towards him. His dad continues to tease him but even with Fadel gone, Style still isn't in the mood for it and quickly changes the topic to his dad's fishing tip. And their ensuing banter is very endearing because you can just clearly tell how important Style's dad is to him and how much they genuinely like each other. And a little detail I also love is how Style's dad wears a vest similar to the one Style wears later in this episode.

(Btw, y'all, Style stares after Fadel for so long that I had to go with using only every 3rd frame to make the gif fit in the 8mb size limit. That's how long Style stares for jgkdkjfdg)

Side quest: To Play or Not to Play

Now, if you read my previous metas and especially my ep3 meta you'll know that I've been arguing for Style not actually being into sleeping around all that much. Now, you could take Style's dad asking Fadel "Are you his one-time thing or are you taking him seriously?" as confirmation that Style is a player after all. However, I still don't think so. First of all, I'm not gonna believe it until Style has said it himself and even more importantly his actions and behavior also convince me otherwise (considering how many lies all the characters in this series constantly tell) and second of all, I'm not sure Style's dad himself actually knows whether his son sleeps around or not. After all, this is the same man who only the other week said "I forgot you like men". And also the way he was so surprised about seeing an unfamiliar face coming out of his house lets me think that Style usually doesn't have any random over-night visitors. Not to mention his dad being surprised about Style's type ("Oh, well, who’d have guessed that’s your type?").

And all that isn't to say Style never has a one-night stand. I'm just saying, I don't think it happens on a regular basis. As I said in my ep3 meta, I think Style makes very deliberate choices of who he sleeps with and that is also confirmed in episode 5 when Style mentions how his dad tried to set him up with some mechanics but Style wanted to be able to choose for himself. If Style does have one-night stands, it seems like he either never brings them home or he simply just doesn't sleep around often enough for his dad to be in any way used to it. Personally, I think it's the latter. I think Style gets picky about who he sleeps with, because to him sex matters (as discussed in my ep4 meta as well).

Oh, and also in Thai the dad uses the expression หลอกฟัน [lòk fan] which is a colloquial phrase which my native speaker friend explained as "to trick someone into sex". And by the way, Style himself uses that exact expression in episode 4 at the Rise Up meeting when he bitches about getting nailed and bailed. And now I'm a bit angry at myself that I felt too awkward to ask about this phrase back when I was writing my ep4 meta, because the "tricking" connotation of this phrase definitely adds some nuance to Style's anger in episode 4. But coming back to episode 6, I think Style's dad isn't necessarily saying this because of his son's potential love life habits and it's more him being a bit of a protective dad who wants to make sure the people his son keeps company with aren't gonna cause heartbreak to his son.

No. 3: Make the Most of It

Style and Kant meet for a drink and Kant gets right to the point: "If they really decided to carry out their operation tomorrow, and got arrested by Captain, what should we do?" Style doesn't like the thought of Fadel (and Bison) being arrested and suggests a solution: "Let's stop them." Kant reminds him that he can't just walk up to Bison and outright tell him to abandon the mission and Style agrees that Kant would not make it out of that situation alive. "Unless you leave him right now", Style says. Or more literally:

Unless you get out of his life from now on. นอกจากมึงจะออกจากชีวิตไบซันตั้งแต่ตอนนี้ [nôk jàak - mueng - já - òhk jàak - chii-wít - Bison - dtâng-dtàe - dton-níi] apart from, except - you - will - depart, leave - life - Bison - since, from - (right) now

It's not like the literal translation is a big difference from the official translation, but I just thought "leave his life" sounds more dramatic and I'm sure some of you will appreciate this little tidbit of info as well.

Style doesn't know if Kant can simply just just get out of Bison's life or not but what Style does know is that he himself certainly can't just drop out of Fadel's life to never see him again: "But as for me, I’m getting kinda attached to Fadel". Or what he actually says:

But to be honest, I've already begun to worry about Fadel. แต่เอาจริงๆ กูเริ่มเป็นห่วงฟาเดลแล้วนะ [dtàe - ao jing jing • guu - rêum - bpen hùuang - Fadel - láew - ná] but - honestly, seriously - I - begin - be worried - Fadel - already - [particle]

Thai doesn't have verb tenses, so I think a possible translation would also be "I'm beginning to worry about Fadel". Personally, I think present perfect tense is more fitting, since last episode Style already told Kant "I’m beginning to worry about him now", which – something I missed it in my ep5 meta in my hurry to finish before episode 6 dropped and have since added to the post – but what Style says in reality in episode 5 is:

I'm worrying about him now. ตอนนี้กูเป็นห่วงฟาเดลแล้วว่ะ [dton-níi - guu - bpen hùuang - Fadel - láew - wâ] now - I - be worried - Fadel - already - [particle]

(Alt. translation: I'm worried about him now.)

In episode 5 Style says nothing about "beginning to" worry, no, in episode 5 he clearly states that he is already worrying about Fadel and so I think it makes sense to interpret his statement in episode 6 as "I've started to worry about Fadel", since it's something that began in the past (episode 5) and is still ongoing as of this point.

Anyway, so Style questions if Kant would be able to get out of Bison's life and lets him know I myself can't get out of Fadel's life now that I've started to worry about him. We immediately see proof of his worry as he practically begs Kant to hurry up with getting the boss behind everything arrested so that this mess can finally come to an end. And once again we see that Style is quite the optimist: "Those two will be free, and we can go on with our lives."

I think it's not just optimism that led Style to say this words, but also bit of wishful thinking and most importantly, a lot of hope. He is well aware that the situation is messy and difficult, but he still hopes, hopes for the best, hopes for a happy ending for them all. There's gotta be a way, right? If Captain Christ only wants their boss, then everything will be fine, right? But Kant reminds him of the bitter reality: "You think Captain would let them walk? They kill people for a living. If they ain’t shot dead on the spot, they’d at least get a life sentence."

I think deep down Style already knew this, but actually hearing it out loud hits different. I think it's only now that it truly sinks in for him that it will likely be the very last time he'll get to spend time with Fadel. Style sinks back into the bench, looking miserable. Kant moves over to Style's bench to comfort him: "We can only make the most of what we have now." For once, Style isn't in the mood to talk. He grabs his drink, clinks cans with Kant, and they both try to wash away their worries with beer. It's not helping. Style stares dejectedly into the air.

No. 4: Please Don't Be Mad

(Side note: in my ep3 meta I couldn't quite tell if Style went to the bar to purposely seek out Fadel or not, and well, I have my answer now hahaha)

Just like Style already mentioned to Kant and to us, him and Fadel are spending their evening at the heavy metal bar. Fadel tells him that this is the first time that he didn't come to the bar alone and Style tells him "Happiness shared is happiness doubled". Style is serious, he really means it. He is here because he wants Fadel to be happy, wants them to be happy together. Fadel makes heart eyes at him. Style gives a little smile back. Fadel gets the tickets. The ticket seller informs them that the band will be playing for the last time. Style looks serious again. The band isn't the only one having a last time. The ticket seller continues: "It’s gonna be a memorable night." Style looks towards the ground. This hits different for him. "You’re right," he finally says, "for me, tonight is certainly going to be a memorable night." And again, his tone is serious. His words hold a certain weight to them, he really means what he says with all his heart. Then he looks at Fadel. Style was speaking to the ticket seller as he was saying this, but really, it's a message to Fadel. I'm going to remember this night, he says, I'm going to remember you. Style may not be able to tell Fadel about how this will potentially be their last night together, but at least he can be honest about his feelings. This night matters to Style, and it matters a lot. The knowledge of this possibly being a goodbye weighs on him and we can tell by the way just how serious Style has been throughout this short sequence. Not the loud, bubbly boy that we've all grown to love. I think Fadel can also tell that something is off about Style, because he raises his eyebrows at him and stares at him quizzically for a moment before he turns to enter the bar. Style follows him.

Once inside, Style is looking rather tense. There is something on his mind that he needs to confess but that he struggle to say. In the end it does burst out of him. "I don’t really like heavy metal," he shouts in the middle of a heavy metal bar. It makes for a funny moment, but Style is clearly distraught. Fadel says he already knew that and Style is relieved that Fadel isn't angry. Now, I've had some thoughts about this.

I'm not sure this confession was really about Style's music preferences at all. It kinda reminds me of how, remember episode 5 of Bad Buddy when Pat "confessed" to Ink, but it wasn't really about his feelings for her at all but rather Ink and that confession served as a stand-in so that he could get the weight off his chest without having to open the real can of worms? Yeah, I think we have something somewhat similar happening here. Now I do very much think Style was absolutely telling the truth when he said he doesn't like heavy metal music. After all, we did see him jamming out to a song that was very much not heavy metal music, so the content of his confession definitely wasn't a lie. But I do think it served as a bit of a stand in for all the things Style CAN'T confess to right now. And there is a lot that Style could and should and probably also kind of wants to be confessing to: the fact that he knows of what Fadel does, the fact that Kant has informed the police of Fadel and Bison's next mission, the fact that said police will be awaiting the brothers there, the fact that this will likely be Style and Fadel's very last night together. Not to mention the fact that Style hit on him for a car before he fell in love for real. But as Kant pointed out earlier that day when they were having a drink together... It's not like they can just walk up to the brothers and just say it. The brothers are killers after all. And in a way, I think Style's confession serves not just as an attempt to be more honest with Fadel but also as a way to assess how Fadel will react if he learns that Style actively lied to him.

Style looks almost a bit too upset and guilty for it to be just about his music preferences after the truth is out of his mouth.

The situation is a bit awkward, because he ends up yelling it loudly in a room full of heavy metal fans, but I don't think he really cares about that more than a whoops in this moment, because what really matters is: "You’re not mad at me, are you?" There is so much urgency to it, his expression kind of pleading:

I'm sorry that I wasn't being honest with you. You're not mad at me, right? You're not mad that I lied to you, right? Please don't be angry with me. Style is so very stressed about this. Fadel's reaction is important.

And Fadel? Is not angry that Style lied. In fact, to Style's surprise, Fadel actually already knew the truth about him (foreshadowing, anyone? 👀). Style is veeery relieved about this:

มึงไม่โกรธอ่ะ กูก็สบายใจแล้ว [mueng - mâi - gròht - àh • guu - gôr - sà-baai jai - láew] you - not - angry - [particle] • I - [sentence link] - happy, pleased - already

In the subtitles Style says "All I want to know is that you’re not mad at me" here. I checked the original line with a native speaker friend who translated it as "You're not mad, then I'm relieved" (and if you put the Thai line into Google Translate it also spits out "If you're not angry, I'll be relieved") which I think matches what Dunk is portraying here through his body and his facial expression a lot better. However, the official English translation summarizes the whole point of the confession very nicely: all Style wants to know is how Fadel will react to the fact that Style actively lied to him and he's desperately hoping that Fadel won't be angry to find out the truth.

And then Fadel isn't angry. And tells him that he wants to see the real Style. Style tilts his head at him, not looking entirely convinced despite the huge relief just now. There is still a lot Style is currently keeping from Fadel, things that are a much bigger deal than his music preferences. Style is still keeping truths from Fadel, still lying to him. And then Fadel drops: "But still, liars should be punished." This has Style genuinely stressed again. There is almost a bit of fear in his voice when he inquires what the punishment will be as he reluctantly lets Fadel drag him away. Style now knows that Fadel won't be angry at him for lying, but there will be consequences (a punishment) (again: will this be foreshadowing? 👀).

No. 5: Fake Fan

Turns out Fadel's punishment isn't all that scary after all, even if Style isn't too hyped about it. Nevertheless, he patiently sits there and lets Fadel paint his face without stopping him. But no matter his patience, Style still can't let Fadel do this without at least a verbal protest. He points out that that Fadel isn't wearing face paint either and is almost kind of offended. YOU aren't wearing any so why are you making ME do it? Style then questions if Fadel even has the skills for what he's doing. Unlike before, Fadel now easily gives up information about himself to Style without hesitation: "I used to wear the same makeup as my favorite band."

A major running theme that we've had going on over several episodes now is how Style keeps trying to get Fadel to loosen up and to have fun. We saw this happening in episode 1 already when Style tried to get Fadel to play along when he made him get the pin off his shirt himself (which actually happened even before Kant made Style hit on Fadel). We saw it in episode 2 when Style pretended they were on a cooking show and provided commentary while Fadel was preparing a customer's food. We saw it in episode 3, when Style follows Fadel to the heavy metal bar for the first time and tried to get Fadel to party and to scream a little. We saw it in episode 5 when Style convinced Fadel to wear the matching couple shirts, pulled him into a dance, and even got him to sing karaoke. And what's more, we've also seen Style trying to get Fadel to socialize. And yeah, of course a lot of what Style was saying and implying about Fadel doing things with Style specifically he said because he was actively hitting on Fadel, but I do think he genuinely meant it when he said things like "But some things are better done together" (episode 2, sports field) or "How’d [having a good time all by yourself] even work? You need someone to 'scream' with" (episode 3, heavy metal bar).

So Style has been trying to coax Fadel out of his shell pretty much since the beginning, has been trying to get him to just enjoy life, has been trying to pull him out of his loneliness. And he's doing it again here: the moment Style learns of Fadel's old hobby, Style immediately suggests Fadel paints his face too. Matching make-up for the two of them. It's something that Fadel clearly enjoys and also they'll do it together. Obviously. Because some things are better done together. And happiness shared is happiness doubled. But Fadel refuses, because he never lets anyone see him with band make-up on.

Edit: There is so much going on here in this scene that I totally forgot to mention a very important language note (and I'm really mad at myself that I didn't catch my mistake before publishing this meta): the word for make-up/putting make -up on is แต่ง [dtàeng] which also means "to marry". So when Style says "Then you should put some makeup on, too" it actually also sounds like he is saying "Will you marry me, then?", which is why Fadel suddenly stops and looks up at him. Make of that double meaning what you will 🤭

After that we get even more running themes: only moments ago Fadel said "I want to see the real you", but this is something that goes vice versa for Style as well. In episode 5 he told Fadel "I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you" and while this was mostly in reference to Fadel's secret hitman identity, this sentiment counts for everything else about Fadel too. And if Fadel enjoys wearing his favorite band's make-up, then Style will also like him for that. Style wants see Fadel's real him and he wants Fadel to be the real him, to live the real him. "How long are you going to live someone else’s life?"

And it's not just that. After episode 5 I was discussing the double date scene with @secriden in our DMs and she talked about how Style was giving Fadel a safe space to participate in all that socializing by being even sillier than Fadel so that Fadel didn't have to be embarrassed about dancing silly dances or wearing silly couple shirts. And I think the very same thing is going on here. Fadel never lets the public see his painted face, whether it's out of fear or embarrassment or something else. And Style offers for them to wear matching make-up. "Try just being someone you want to be," he says, "We’ll do it together." Fadel isn't alone in this, Style is right here, by his side, with him. A safe space. "There’s nothing to be afraid of." Not if Fadel is with Style. Style will support whoever Fadel is underneath his thick, icy walls no matter what. Style is set on it. And tonight, potentially their very last night together, Style will gladly wear make-up for Fadel and Fadel will wear make-up too for his own happiness. They'll do it together and there is nothing to fear when Style is with him. Well? How about it?

Fadel is quiet. He lets Style grab his face and paint on him. Style gives Fadel an encouraging nod, like See? It's not that bad. It's not that scary. I'm right here with you. Be happy. Be you. I love you.

Now, the tear tracks that Style draws on Fadel's face are obviously foreshadowing to how this episode is going to end with Fadel crying because of Style's "betrayal". But honestly, the very first time I watched it? This foreshadowing went right over my head. Admittedly, I was also running on just 3h of sleep that day because I'd been up all night finishing my ep5 meta so I could post it before the new episode dropped and took a 3h nap around noon, so that might have also been a factor in that, but yeah, it totally didn't occur to me that the episode could end in Fadel's real tears (not sure if that made the last scene better or worse tbh). No, the thought that I had instead while watching the episode for the first time was: "Are those the tears that Fadel never got/gets to cry?" And to be honest, I do hope later down the line we'll get a scene where Fadel finally lets it all out, let's out all the pain from all the trauma(s) he's been through while Style is right by his side, supporting him through it, is there for him. Because they'll do this together and Style will always be ready to happily offer and create a safe space for Fadel, just like he did in episode 5 when he was asking Fadel about his parents or when he was trying to get Fadel to let lose and dance a little in the bowling alley or now when he's offering to wear matching make-up with Fadel. And when Fadel cries (and I hope he will cry, and not just from Style's "betrayal"), then Style will offer a safe space for Fadel to cry in, too.

No. 6: (Bitter)Sweet Happiness

Both in make-up, they now proceed to have the time of their lives at the concert, smiling the brightest smiles. They even get to take selfies with the band. Fadel is happy, and so is Style. I think this may actually be the most carefree we've seen Fadel in the entire series so far and it's all thanks to Style.

After the concert they end up standing by a glass window. "Thanks for coming with me," Fadel says and Style looks at him with the warmest, most loving, most adoring expression.

Of course Style accompanied him here. He had promised Fadel in episode 3 already that he would make Fadel 'scream' at some point (that is to have fun, basically) and now they're both here, Fadel is having a good time, and Style is happier and more in love than he could ever have imagined. Fadel continues his little thank you speech: "If it weren’t for you, I’d probably have sat alone over there." Style knows this very well. He saw him sit all by himself last time, refusing to have fun with Style. He saw Fadel stand by himself in the crowd. And even then he was of the opinion that "You’re supposed to have fun with your friends at a place like this". And now Fadel is here. Having fun with him. And there is absolutely no need for Fadel to thank Style, because just getting to see Fadel smile makes Style happy already.

However, as the night is coming to an end the happiness Style has been feeling is overshadowed by the knowledge of what is about to happen next. It's overshadowed by the knowledge that this is almost certainly the last time they'll get to spend time with each other like this. "You wanna come over tonight?" Style asks, "I want to cuddle you to sleep." He doesn't want this night to end. He wants to hold on to Fadel just a little longer, wants to hold him for as long as possible before all of this is over. And best case-scenario, he also manages to stop Fadel from going on the mission like he suggested when he was getting drinks with Kant.

He looks at Fadel with hopeful eyes. But Fadel declines. Style's dad is home and besides, Fadel's got work tomorrow. Work? This has Style listening up. He seizes the opportunity, just like he did back in episode 5 on the floor of the garage. He starts subtly grilling Fadel: "Grocery shopping? I’ll help." Which, by the way, is actually: "The market? I can go with you."

ตลาดหรอ เดี๋ยวกูไปด้วยได้นะ [dtà-làat - rŏr • dĭieow - guu - bpai - dûuay - dâai - ná] market - ? • moment - I - go - too, with - can - [particle]

And that makes me cry a little, because the market one of their spots by now. Like, of course Style would gladly go to the market with Fadel. But Fadel isn't going to the market. He tells Style he's doing something else. But Style already knows exactly what Fadel is doing and where he's going. Once again Style tries to get Fadel to spill the truth: "You’re doing a lot of second jobs, aren’t you? What else do you do besides working as a host? You can tell me. I won’t judge." I promise you I won't judge you for being a hitman. I already know this and I'm cool with it. And if you would just SAY it out loud already then I could tell you not to go through with the mission tomorrow. Then I could keep you by my side just a little longer. Please tell me. Style looks at Fadel with big eyes, full of hope and encouragement.

But Fadel does not say what Style wants him to say. Style is disappointed.

He leans back against the glass wall, upset. In the gif on the right it actually almost looks like he could start crying any moment now:

Fadel is confused, but amused, assuming Style is probably just being his usual overdramatic self. He laughs and asks Style what's wrong. Style side-eyes him, still upset and pouting.

This is potentially the last time they'll be together. Tomorrow Fadel will probably get arrested. Tomorrow Fadel will probably be taken away from him. And he can't even talk about it. Can't even stop him from going.

Fadel continues on:

You act like we're not going to see each other again just because we won't be spending the night together. แค่ไม่ได้นอนด้วยกันเองทำอย่างจะไม่ได้เจอกันอีก [kâe - mâi dâai - nawn - dûuay gan - eng - tam - yàang - jà - mâi dâai - jer gan - ìig] only - not - sleep - together - just - do - like - will - not - meet/see each other - again

Style might not be able to outright tell Fadel that he's acting like that because they actually, for real may very well never see each other again when the night is over, but at least he can try to be as honest about his feelings as possible: "It’s been a good night. I don’t want it to end." I don't want to say goodbye. Fadel tries to console him. "When I’m back, there’ll be more nights like this." Style so badly wants to believe him.

He looks at Fadel with big, hopeful eyes. You promise? Fadel nods. And I think, despite Style knowing that the police will interrupt Fadel's mission and that it won't go smoothly and will likely end in his arrest, I think despite all that deep down Style holds Fadel to that promise. And we can once again see how optimistic and especially how hopeful of a person he is. Now matter how bleak the situation seems right now, Fadel has promised to come back and Fadel has promised that they'll have more nights full of happiness together. And a promise is a promise, right? You can't simply just break it. And so Style hopes for the best. He might not be able to get him to stay but at least Fadel will be back. Because he promised.

They seal that promise with a kiss. And it's interesting, because Style doesn't immediately close his eyes when Fadel goes to kiss him but instead looks at him for a moment longer. And then his eyes keep fluttering open for a moment. It's almost as if he can't tear his eyes away from Fadel, as if he can't help but use every opportunity to look at Fadel, to catch every last glimpse of Fadel while he still has the opportunity to do so. They break apart and Fadel tells Style that he's (also) very happy tonight and Style (re)confirms his own happiness. They lean their foreheads against each other. And again, Style can't really close his eyes and fully sink into the moment the way Fadel can. It's like he tries to close his eyes but they keep fluttering open a second later because he just can't keep his eyes away from Fadel, is compelled to keep looking at him while he still can, while Fadel is still right there with him. And even when they break away from each other and turn to look out of the window towards the stage, it takes Style a couple of seconds to tear his eyes away from Fadel, who is already looking elsewhere:

After they've turned around, their hands find each other. And I think in that moment Style really needs that support through his distress and I think Fadel can feel it, even if he can't figure out what exactly is up with Style and why he is acting the way he's acting.

No. 7: Moving On

Fadel and Bison's mission has passed. Kant's brother nearly got caught in the crossfire. Kant wonders if Bison saved Babe. Kant guesses that Bison saved him. With that he also implies that if Bison was the one saving Babe (since Bison is the one who actually knows and recognizes Kant's brother), the one taking the shot must've been Fadel, implying that Fadel would have injured or killed Babe. But Style, who has been spending a lot of time with Fadel and has slowly been getting to know the real Fadel underneath all those walls, just can't imagine Fadel would shoot a random kid. When he asks Kant "You think Fadel would shoot Babe?" it's definitely in defense of Fadel. And that's interesting, because so far he's always been supportive of his bestie and his investigations. He hasn't always been happy about it, but he still never fought Kant about it. This is the first time we see Style actively go against Kant to stand on Fadel's side instead.

Style continues: "You think he knows you’re a snitch?" I think this is partly still a bit of an attack on Kant in his defense of Fadel in the sense of What, does Fadel to have a reason to kill your brother because you did a shitty job staying undiscovered? and partly a genuine question to find out if Fadel would actually have a motive to shoot Babe on the off chance that he did mean to do that. Not that Style actually believes that, though.

Kant says no and says that his work is over and that he's done being a snitch. This should be good news to Style, but Style doesn't look very comforted. In fact, Style barely acknowledges Kant's words. His mind is somewhere else, is with someone else. "I want to see Fadel." Once again we aren't simply just told through text that Style worries about Fadel but we are also shown. And on top of worrying, Style also misses him.

As so often when Style expresses genuine care and attachment to Fadel, Kant immediately disapproves: "Style! You have to get over it. You can’t ever get together with him. Move on." In Thai, Kant uses the word ตัดใจ [dtàt-jai] when he says "get over it". Thai2english defines this as:

to part with something, to give up something (somewhat unwillingly)

Style is unwilling to give Fadel up. He can't part with Fadel, no matter how much he knows he should if he wants to get out of that mess of a situation. "It’ll become a funny story," Kant says, but Style isn't laughing. He is miserable.

No. 8: Will They or Won't They (Come Back)

Fadel and Bison's mission hasn't gone to plan (neither for them, nor for the police), they've gone completely MIA and our two remaining love struck boys that were left behind now stop by the restaurant in the hopes of meeting them there in person if they're already not picking up their phones. However, Style and Kant find the restaurant abandoned as well. Style looks a little disappointed when he states that the diner is closed, but he's not necessarily all that surprised and he is definitely very concerned. Kant walks away from him to check the inside through the windows just in case and Style follows him. They run into the black cat and end up having a little chat.

And what's interesting about it is that during that little chat Style isn't even all that depressed, despite still not having any clue whatsoever about Fadel's whereabouts. In fact, he actually sounds kind of cheerful when he asks and talks about the cat, unlike in the scene before where he was simply just miserable. Style's tone as well as his expression do both get more serious when he says "I guess [the cat] misses Bison, then. He’s a food source, after all", but no matter how troubled he is about the whole situation, no matter how worried he is about Fadel's well-being and no matter how much he misses him, he won't let himself wallow in misery.

Kant says "Why do I have a feeling that this isn’t over? They can’t run forever, that’s for sure. If they haven’t completed their mission, they will definitely come back" and once again we see Style's optimism and bright outlook on life when he replies "I guess you’re right. Before things went down, you saw how attached they were to us". But similarly to the scene in the beginning when they were having drinks, Kant comes back with some realism: "No matter how much you love someone, you gotta prioritize saving your own butts, right?" Style thinks about it for a moment and raises his eyebrows like Yeah, I guess that's true...

Once again, his expression gets more serious and his smile fades but we know he's not giving up any hope of meeting Fadel again whatsoever, because he'll be back in a week to check on the restaurant again. And let's be real, the series might not have shown this to us but we all know Style went to the diner every single day of that week. Possibly even multiple times a day.

No. 9: Something Special to Eat

A week later and we see Style checking on the restaurant again, this time without Kant. And to his surprise and utter joy, the lights are on! Fadel is back and he looks well! Style stares at him through the window, breathes a small huff of relief, then shakes his head a little like he can't believe his eyes, like he can't believe that what he is seeing is real. As I mentioned before, I'm absolutely convinced Style went to the restaurant every single day for the past week and now it turns out that he was right not to give up, not to lose hope, to stay optimistic like he always is. Style's joy about Fadel's return manifests in his whole entire body as he hops and skips through the restaurant doors.

Once inside, Fadel doesn't seem surprised to see him. He doesn't even say hello, but immediately opens up with the words: "I was thinking of going to your place. But you were more impatient than me, huh?"

Language side note, for all you language nerds out there... In Thai the "you were more impatient" is actually only implied, not explicitly stated:

I haven't gotten round to go see you yet. กูยังไม่ทันไปหามึงเลย [guu - yang - mâi tan - bpai hăa - mueng - loiie] I - yet - not be able to (do sth in/on time) - go visit - you - [particle] You came running to see me. มึงมาหากูซะละ [mueng - maa hăa - guu - sá - lá] you - come visit - I/me - [particle] - [particle]

(For the second sentence I decided to translate it as "you came running" because the particle ซะ [sá] can imply that the action should be done quickly. And Style did come running very quickly the moment Fadel was back.)

And when Style replies "Where have you been?" his words are also a little more dramatic in the original, as is fit for his personality:

Where did you disappear to for so long? มึงหายไปไหนตั้งนานอ่ะ [mueng - hăai bpai - năi - dtâng naan - àh] you - disappear - where - for a long time - [particle]

(It's basically "Where have you been for so long?")

A whole week is a long time to not see your boyfriend, especially when you know something bad has happened and you have no idea if he's alright or not. And so Style rightly complains. Fadel says that his phone broke and that he had to change both his phone and his number. Style throws him an almost disappointed look. He knows that this is a lie (or at least the "my phone broke" part probably is. Fadel might have had to change his number for real when he went into hiding). And more importantly, it only explains why Fadel wasn't replying to his texts. It does not answer Style's question of "where have you been?" and so Style is left none the wiser. Fadel says that he was busy and Style continues to complain: "And you didn’t think to contact me a little? I was worried sick about you, you know?" And we saw that. We got to see how Style was worrying when he was longing to see Fadel after hearing how Babe nearly got injured and we saw it when Style checked the restaurant at the very least two times, once with Kant and once by himself (and let's be real, he definitely went more than twice, we just didn't get to witness it). We see it even now in the way he complains to Fadel about him ignoring Style for a full week. Style thought he was saying goodbye to Fadel at the concert because the police would be ripping Fadel away from him but then that didn't actually happen because Fadel managed to escape and Style spent a full week worrying about him, missing him, longing to see him. And then Fadel is back and he's doing well and he didn't even think to tell Style about it. Style has every right to complain and Fadel should know it, too.

Fadel complains about Style's complaining and then offers to make him food like a peace offering and/or an apology. And fun fact, when he says "Anything you'd like to eat?" in Thai it's:

Anything special you wanna eat? อยากกินอะไรเป็นพิเศษป่ะล่ะ [yàak - gin - àrai - bpen pí-sèt - bpà - lâ] want - eat - anything - that is special - ? - [particle]

I'm telling you, when I heard Fadel say the words "eat" and "special" in the same sentence I immediately expected Style to say "you". I think I even said the word "you" at my screen when I watched the episode for the first time. And then Style DIDN'T. He just... didn't say it. When it was literally right there. I'm truly disappointed in him ngl.

Style does not say "you", instead he sits down and let's Fadel decide on the menu and compliments his cooking. Fadel is immediately sus about the sweet talking and asks: "Did you do something wrong?" Style doesn't know that this is a very pointed question, has absolutely no idea that Fadel is currently suspecting him of snitching to the police. "No," Style replies, but his voice doesn't sound entirely genuine. It's not a full lie but it's also not entirely sincere. Did he do anything wrong? It's hard to say. Technically he isn't the one to tip off the police so technically this isn't something he's done wrong. Style also knows a lot more than he should and that's also not something that he's necessarily doing wrong per se, but it's still something he's keeping from Fadel which could be considered wrong. And one could also say that not explicitly warning Fadel about how the police would be at their mission wasn't right. So technically there is something he did do wrong and that he could be feeling guilty about. No matter whether he really did do something wrong or not, Style chooses to deflect and distract anyway. And he changes the topic to something that really is completely true this time: "I just really missed you." Although, when he says "Is it so weird to get a little affectionate?" it's almost a bit of a challenge. Tell me again how I'm doing something wrong. Style continues: "You know, all this time apart really frustrated me." And there we finally have it. The "I want to eat you" bit.

I think at this point it's pretty obvious that Style is being genuine about his flirting, but I just wanna point out that what I noticed before about how Style acts when he truly wants Fadel continues to hold up: instead of being loud and performative, Style gets quiet, goes almost into a whisper by the end of the sentence. And he also gets handsy with Fadel. He reaches for Fadel's nipple specifically and it works. Fadel is very much distracted. But he stops Style because this is not something Fadel wants to do in the middle of his restaurant in front of a wall of glass windows (probably? Who knows with them 🤷🏼‍♀️). Fadel decides on making spaghetti for Style who approves and fondly smiles at Fadel. They keep holding on to each other's hands for as long as possible as Fadel turns around to walk off and I cry and then I cry some more about the way Style once again can't tear his eyes away from Fadel.

No. 10: Oh, I Wish That You Hadn't Pulled the Trigger

It's later in the evening, Style has presumably finished eating (and maybe Fadel, too?) and now they're both wiping down the restaurant. And once again we see something that I've been talking about for the last few episodes now: Style likes helping. Fadel explicitly tells him that he doesn't have to help and that Fadel will do it himself, so likely Style just grabbed the cloth and started wiping without a second thought while Fadel had his back turned. Because helping people is something that comes to Style naturally. He wants to help. And so he insists on continuing to help with the cleaning and, if it makes Fadel feel better about it, offers Fadel to think of it as payment for the free food.

And I know this meta is actually about Style, but I see Fadel watch Style for a moment after Style said that and I can't help but remember how Style was there in episode 3, helping Fadel out at the restaurant when Bison was nowhere to be found and now Style is here again, helping Fadel out at the restaurant without hesitation and of his own free will and I can't help but think that this is probably one of the things that Fadel has come to love about Style. Style is here and he helps and supports Fadel no questions asked. Which make the news he is about to hear even more painful. And right on cue, Fadel's phone rings.

Fadel steps outside to talk to Bison. In the meantime inside, Style moves on to wipe the next table. He lifts his head just in time to catch Fadel looking at him through the window. Style smiles at him fondly.

Style is so happy that Fadel is back, is so content to be around him. The night of the concert wasn't a goodbye after all. He had bid farewell to Fadel internally already but now he gets to have a new beginning after all. Style is overjoyed.

Then Fadel comes back inside, proceeds to turn on some music and Style is confused as to why he would do that. Fadel asks if he can't get romantic and Style calls him out for scolding him earlier about Style being too sweet and cheesy only to turn around all of a sudden and wanting to be romantic after all. Style has absolutely no idea that Fadel sees him in a completely different light now, but I think he can tell that something is kinda off and that the phone call might have had something to with Fadel's sudden change of mood. So Style asks what Bison said. And Style being Style who cares about his loved ones also wants to know if Bison is with Kant. Fadel confirms. Style comments that Bison probably missed Kant. And right after the sentence is out of his mouth, for just a split second before it cuts back to Fadel we can see a very pleased smile form on Style's face.

Bison wasn't the only one missing someone. Style was too. He was missing Fadel so very much and he was worried sick about him and now Fadel is back, Fadel is standing right in front of him in the flesh and everything is all good in this world. Of course, Style is pleased.

And then Fadel says "I also missed you". Style's eyes widen in surprise, his expression serious now. Ever since they officially started dating Fadel has been saying things like "we're on trial" and "I won't ever trust you 100%" and while he did admit to being very happy earlier in the episode at the concert, I think Style wasn't really expecting Fadel to suddenly be so open about his feelings, almost out of nowhere without any obvious triggers. But then Fadel continues his confession by telling Style that there is no one messing with him when Style isn't there. Ah, there he is, that old nagger that Style has come to love. A compliment that comes in the form of an insult. That's more like him. Style is amused and in a lovingly teasing, but also slightly serious tone asks if he's just an annoyance to Fadel and whether that's a good thing or a bad thing. Fadel is quick to assure him that it's a good thing: "Having someone to miss is good. It makes me want to go to the market and go jogging with the hopes of running into you."

Did you notice that I changed something in Fadel's wording just now? Because the official subs wrote "grocery shopping" instead of "the market" and once again I just don't understand the decision to translate it like that because the market is literally one of their spots!! It's not the action of grocery shopping that's important here, it's the place!!! Because Fadel is likely doing some of his grocery shopping at a supermarket too, but it's when he shops at the market place specifically where he has memories with Style!!!

In fact, let me just share Fadel's exact wording of the whole bit:

Having you to miss is a good thing. การมีมึงไว้ให้คิดถึงเนี่ยมันดีนะเว้ย [gaan mii - mueng - wái - hâi - kít-tĕung - nîia - man - dii - na wóiie] having - you - to - miss - [particle] - it - good - [particle] It makes me want to go to the market, มันทำให้กูอยากไปตลาด [man - tam hâi - guu - yàak - bpai - dtà-làat] it - make that - I - want - go - market go jogging in the morning, ไปวิ่งตอนเช้า [bpai - wîng - dton cháao] go - run, jog - in the morning because I'm hoping I'll get to meet you. เพราะหวังว่าจะได้เจอมึง [próh - wăng wâa - jà - dâai - jer - mueng] because - hope that - will - get to - meet - you

And also a little bit earlier when he tells Style "I’ve got no one messing with me when you’re not there":

Without you, there is no one messing up my life. ไม่มีมึงอ่ะ ไม่มีใครมาป่วนชีวิตกู [mâi mii - mueng - àh • mâi mii krai - maa - bpùuan - chii-wít - guu] without - you - [particle] • no one - come - be chaotic - life - I/my

This confession is a parallel to his "I hate that I don't hate you" confession: In episode 4 Fadel said "I don't like you messing up my life" and now in episode 6 he says "Without you, there is no one messing up my life". In episode 4 Fadel said "I don’t like myself when I look for you on the morning jog or at the market" and now in episode 6 Fadel says "It makes me want to go to the market and go jogging in the morning with the hopes of running into you". In episode 4 Fadel said "I don’t like that I miss you." and now in episode 6 he says "I've missed you. Having someone to miss is good."

It's his confession from episode 4 but this time it's romantic and Style even points it out very amusedly, but is also very happy about it: "Are we officially entering romantic territory?" Fadel says that he wants to do what lovers do and Style tells him "I don’t want you to do what you don’t want to do". Or in his exact wording:

I don't want you to do anything that isn't you. กูไม่อยากให้มึงทำอะไรที่ไม่ใช่ตัวเองนะเว้ย [guu - mâi - yâak - hâi - mueng - tam - arai - tîi - mâi châi - dtue eng - ná wóiie] I - not - want - that - you - do - anything - that - not - yourself

Fadel told him at the concert that he wanted to see the real Style, but the same goes the other way around. Style wants Fadel to be the real him, too. And he doesn't want him to do anything that isn't the real him. But Fadel replies:

But I can be like you want me to be. แต่กูสามารถเป็นอย่างที่มึงอยากให้กูเป็นได้ [dtàe - guu - săa-mâat - bpen - yàang - tîi - mueng - yàak - hâi - guu - bpen - dâai] but - I - be able to - be - like - that, which - you - want - for, to - I/me - be - be able to (cont.)

It's a loaded statement. And it has Style confused.

It's the exact opposite of what Style wants. Style wants Fadel to be himself, Style doesn't want him to live a life that Style tells him to live. Style doesn't understand and while there are questions written all over his face, he doesn't ask any of them out loud. He stays quiet and smiles a little in uncertainty (He's currently living through a happy little romantic moment with his boyfriend, right? Right?? That's definitely what's happening here, isn't it???) as he waits for Fadel to continue and to maybe elaborate. Fadel takes a step towards him and says:

I think... I already love you. กูว่า...กูรักมึงแล้วว่ะ [guu - wâa... guu - rák - mueng - láew - wâ] i - think... i - love - you - already - [particle]

(Alt. translations: "I think... I love you" or "I think... I love you now")

Style is delighted to hear these words. Distracted from his bemusement from only seconds ago he smiles a satisfied smile. He's been so open and honest about his own feelings and finally Fadel is opening up too and giving back. Style happily kisses Fadel in response.

He, too, loves Fadel. He loves him and he's missed him and he's been worried sick about him when he didn't hear from him for a full week and didn't know how he was doing and now Fadel is back, Fadel is well, they get to have more nights like the night of the concert together, they get to be together for longer than Style thought they would. Life is great.

After they part, they lean their foreheads against each other. When they did it at the concert, Style's eyes kept flickering to Fadel's face. Here at the diner Style can sink into the moment and into the touch a lot more now that he knows this isn't gonna be the last night he'll be together with Fadel. (I've hit image limit, but here's a parallel gifset.) He does look up at Fadel at one point, almost as if to check if Fadel is still there, that he is real, that this is not a dream. And maybe it's also to check on him, since he's been acting a bit weird since the phone call. But then Style closes his eyes again and sinks into the moment one more time, just like when Fadel leaned into him. The two move into a hug as they sway from side to side. Style can neither see nor feel Fadel's tears dropping onto his back.

Of course I'm gonna have to wait to see what future episodes bring before I can say for sure, but honestly speaking, I do think Style can kind of tell that something is off about Fadel after his phone call with Bison. Style immediately clocks that Fadel is behaving strange the moment Fadel turns on the music, Style calls Fadel out for suddenly being romantic when only shortly before that he was telling Style off for being sweet, he gets confused when Fadel goes "I can be like you want me to be" when that's the exact opposite of what Style has been asking for and there is also something in the way Style really sinks into the forehead touch but then his eyes open and flicker to Fadel as if he's checking on him (almost as if he was also checking that Fadel was still there and hasn't gone away again, as if Style can feel that Fadel is in the process of saying goodbye to him). Fadel is in a weird mood and that mood probably does reach Style. But the thing is, Style is missing a key piece of the puzzle and even if he can tell that something is off, to Style it still looks like a happy picture. To Style it still is a happy picture. And what Style doesn't know, but what we, the viewers, can very much see coming is that this happy illusion will burst soon enough.

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4 | Ep5 | Ep7 | Ep8 | Ep9 | Ep10)

[writingforstraykids]

"One of us is going to end up with a broken heart" -> them saying no to adopting/fostering a cat or kitten, so probably Min, you can make it a runt of the litter if you want to sprinkle some angst, but only sprinkle! I can't handle being drowned 😭 Honestly this feels self indulgent now, but we ain't gonna dump now, no sir-e

Just a fluffy time with the "no we can't keep it" dad trope (dad? I mean if you wanna, I won't say no 🙈) then them being the reason its kept, always a sucker for this ugh, gen.neutral would be fine, see no reason for specification on this, go ham, cause I kinda did lol whoops

Aww I love this thought so much, I finished it immediately after you sent it in🤭 I do hope you like it💕

Pairing: Minho x gn!reader

Warnings/tags: pure fluff

Word Count: 767

“Minho, no,” you shake your head firmly as you realize where your husband is so eagerly taking you this cold December morning. 

“You don’t even know what I-” he starts protesting but gets cut off quickly by you.

“Min. We’re not adopting another cat!” you groan softly. 

Minho parks the car in front of the animal shelter and turns to you with a big pout and the best puppy eyes he can muster. “But-”

“Minho Lee, I said no,” you shake your head, thinking of Soonie, Doongie, and Dori, who had just gotten familiar with the newest addition, Cookie, a small brownish-grey goofball who’s been keeping you busy this past month. 

Minho sighs softly and looks at you, utterly heartbroken. “Baby, listen, we agreed ‘no kids yet,’ but…I have to share my love somehow.”

Your jaw drops, and you try to stifle a laugh. “Minnie, you have four kids already, five if you count Felix as your fifth kitty.” That makes him laugh as well. “You can practice being a dad of five, do we really need a sixth kid?”

-

“Look at him, isn’t he sweet?” Minho asks, voice growing all gentle and sweet like you know him around cats. In the small basket in front of you, there’s a little black kitten staring at you with big brown eyes. Your husband turns toward you in search of agreement, and suddenly, you’re faced with two brown-eyed kittens staring into your soul. 

“He is,” you nod, eyeing him suspiciously as he pets his head softly.

Minho looks back at the kitten and makes a soft sound, his smile widening as he kneels down, and the kitten makes a few wobbly steps towards him. Minho picks him up after checking with the employee and rubs his forehead against the kitten’s head. “He looks like Channie, doesn’t he? All in black and those sad eyes.”

You chuckle and roll your eyes at him fondly. “Ah, that’s why; you miss your hyung so much you want to adopt a kitten looking like him.”

Minho shoots you a playful glare and shakes his head. “Obviously not.”

“Minnie, come on,” you sigh softly and shake your head. “It’s too much.”

“Cookie needs a little brother, that’ll make him responsible,” he says so seriously it makes you laugh. 

“Min.”

“Seriously, Y/nnie,” he sighs and makes eye contact with the kitten. “Always the same with them. One of us is going to end up with a broken heart at this rate,” he tells him. 

“Minho, seriously,” you laugh and smack his head playfully.

“You’re such a meanie,” he pouts. 

“And you’re forbidden to take another step into an animal shelter in the next five years at least,” you shoot back, and his head spins toward you. 

“Five years?! Honey, are you crazy?” he gasps and sets the kitten back down. “I’m so sorry, Channie, I would’ve taken you in any day. I would’ve made sure you had a cozy spot, delicious food and you’d be our new maknae kitten.”

Oh, for fucks sake.

-

“Cookie, look, you got a little brother,” Minho announces cheerfully and sits down, keeping your sixth kid in his lap. He makes a happy sound and wiggles from side to side as Cookie nuzzles his face against the newcomer. “Soonie, Doongie, Dori, come here,” he calls out for the rest and holds up the black kitten above his head. “Say hi to your baby brother, Channie.”

“No, he won’t. He’ll kick your ass if you tell him the reason for it,” you snort.

“Minho,” you crack up. “You can’t seriously call him that.”

“Why not? He’ll love it,” he grins smugly.

“He’ll never know,” he shrugs and sets down Channie on the floor. “Never,” he announces and looks at you firmly.

“Come on, I said yes, let me at least choose another name,” you laugh and sit down next to him. “I don’t want to wake up to you calling out for beloved hyung in the morning.”

“Fine~,” he sighs and side-eyes you with a light huff. 

“Oh! I know something, we’ll call you Lixie,” you say proudly after a moment.

“And that’s supposed to be better?” he asks sarcastically, ruffling your hair. “I can’t name two of my kitties the same.”

“You call him Yongbokie either way. Shut up,” you giggle, and he pokes your side.

“You shut up,” he giggles and presses his lips firmly against yours. “I love you so much, baby,” he beams at you.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

“Yeah, yeah, anything to satisfy my beloved cat dad,” you snort and ruffle his hair, giggling softly. Gosh, you love this idiot.

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@kai-lee08 @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies @soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @galaxycatdrawz @aaasia111 @channieaddict @kthstrawberryshortcake

[maybege]

Pleasure

Summary: You get dared by your old school friends to ask a stranger to play with your tits.

Pairing: dad’s friend!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.1k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, older man/younger woman, implied age gap, alcohol consumption, sex with strangers, coming untouched, semi-public intimacy, dom!Boba, sub!Reader, nipple play, dirty talk, little bit of humiliation, Reader is not described but it is mentioned that she does not wear a bra at some point

Alrighty, alrighty. Okay, alright. Are we ready? Like are we really, truly, ready for this? This is obviously set in the dad’s friend!Boba AU which is more of a sandbox AU for me to play in. This is their first meeting (obv) and it is based on another idea I had and I thought it would fit perfectly. Please do let me know what you think and if you like it and if so, what you liked and all that good stuff! Maybe I will write another part or another story set in this AU.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

A year ago, you had never thought you would drown your sorrows at a house party of a person whose name you did not even know in the town you had grown up in with people you had not seen since high school. But here you were, drowning out your disappointment, your sadness and your frustration by the way of loud techno beats and unnaturally coloured alcohol.

“All right,” Marissa passed the hot pink shots she had gotten to you and Chants, though her eyes did not leave yours, “You want a dare?”

For a second you regretted ever having asked her for a dare (“Something to liven up the party,” you had said half-jokingly after the conversation with your two oldest high school friends had come to an awkwardly silent end) but then you also remembered the fun time you had with them in your childhood bedroom, prank calling the neighbours before playing fuck marry killer with the seniors at school.

That was an eternity ago now but it had all seemed to light then. Your happiness did not have an expiration date then and the dream to make it out of your small town by the lake and into the big cities of the opposite coast had kept you company every night.

You hadn’t known yet that your dream would fail.

“Ask any random person here to play with your tits.”

Her voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your face must have shown your shock at the task because her pink-coloured lips (a perfect match to her equally pink hair) pulled up in a mischievous grin. Marissa always had been the joker of your group, you should have known better than to think that the years would have changed anything about that.

“Marissa!” Chants gasped, “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, calm down,” she waved him off, “It’s not like she has to do it. But we're in a house full of strangers and stars know it's been ages since you got laid” – you hated how right she was about that – “So let’s not pretend like I'm not doing you a favour.”

“I’ll do it,” you heard yourself say, steel in your voice as you threw back the sickly sweet drink. There was nothing worse than the artificial strawberry flavour.

“It’s not like I know anyone here anyway,” you stated, looking around the giant living room you were standing in. The villa (because there was no other word to describe the building you were in) was absolutely packed with what seemed to be the entire party population of your town and the few surrounding beach towns as well. It was all stark white walls and cement floors and floor-length windows and furniture that looked more like art than actually something to sit on. Only the colourful lights and (several) mirror balls hued the entire space in ever-changing colours.

No wonder whoever lived here threw all these parties. The place must seem pretty depressing otherwise.

With encouraging whoop whoop!s and You can do it!s you left Marissa and Chants behind and wandered through the dancing, yelling, drinking crowd that took up the entire ground floor. Until you spotted a figure leaning against one of the doorways to the stairway.

Your feet changed your course until you stood in front of him. He was older than you, though certainly not the oldest guest in attendance. (That would be Chants’ 94-year-old grandmother who had a reputation for attending the best raves in the province.)

But what struck you most was how unbothered he looked. How in control. He was dressed in dark pants and a black button-up, his sleeves were rolled up too, revealing strong veiny forearms that had your eyes lingering longer than they should have. He held a glass in his hand and when his eyes landed on you, making your way towards him, you imagined that his grip twitched just the slightest bit.  

“Hi,” you said when you finally stood in front of him.

The main raised his eyebrows, “You lost there?”

You pressed your shoulders back, “No. You are the one

His lips lifted in a smirk and it took our breath away for a moment, how handsome he was, and your courage faltered. But you

“My friend dared me to ask someone to play with my tits.”

If your words caught him off guard, the man did not show it.

“So?” he smiled before taking a sip from the amber liquid, “That wasn’t a question.”

Was he really going to make you say it? Your ears burned with shame and something else as you looked at him. But he simply cocked his head as if to say I am waiting. And you somehow found that this was not a man you wanted to leave waiting.

Taking a deep breath, you asked, “Will you play with my tits?”

“No,” he said easily and finished his drink, “Congratulations, your dare is fulfilled.”

He turned to leave and you surprised yourself when your hand landed on his thick arm. He froze, as did you, and when his eyes met yours, it felt like a switch flipped in your head.

“No, wait, I –“ you paused, “I actually want it.”

His body faced yours again and stars was he broad as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Stars what are you doing, trying to convince a man to touch you.”

“Ask me again, then, little one,” he rumbled and the pet name had your belly fluttering. Though maybe it was not your belly, maybe it was something else …  

“Will you play with my tits, please?” you added the last word quietly, your pulse thrumming as you avoided his eyes. The bass reverberated in your chest and you tried to even out your breathing. This was fine. Everything was fine.

For the first time since you started talking, his eyes left your face and roamed down your body. Over your tight jeans and the loose but not quite opaque top you had chosen to wear. You found yourself wanting to impress him, wanting to please him and you were almost completely sure he would reject you again when he opened his mouth.

“You really want that?”

You nodded, too shy, too embarrassed to say anything more. It had been ages since you had been touched and something about the way he held himself made you feel like he knew how to touch you.

“Good,” he rumbled, his voice dropping even lower and causing a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You watched as he set his glass down on the side table, “But not here out in the open.”

“No,” you shook your head, agreeing with him, though you were a little scared to admit that you would have let him. You would have let him pull you into a corner somewhere and strip you down to nothing and do anything he wanted to you. You would have let him expose you however he saw fit.

Stars, I really need to get laid.

The man brought his hand around you, settling it on your lower back as he led you away from the improvised dance floor. There were throngs of people everywhere but they grew sparser the higher up the stairs he led you. Until you arrived in a hallway that was completely abandoned save for a couple that seemed too busy to make out to notice you. And then he continues, leading you around a corner and suddenly you were alone and the lights were dim and the music only a muted sound in the background.

“Do you live here?” you asked, nervously looking around. What if someone caught you?

“No,” he said, his voice calm as his hand landed on your hip, “but I know the owner. No one will disturb us here.”

You nodded and took another deep breath. That sounded good. That sounded safe.  

“Do you still want this?

It but you were grateful. You nodded, your heart racing. And your pussy too.

“I need to hear words, little one,” he said with a crooked smile, still not touching you save for the hand on your hip that seemed to burn through the layers of clothes.

“Yes, I still want this.”

“Want what?”

Oh, now he was just teasing you!

“I want you to play with my tits, please.”

Shame and arousal had your cheeks burning but it was worth it when he hummed, his hand inching under the hem of your shirt. “Good girl.”

Oh.

Oh, that was new. That was lovely. That was something that had your eyes flutter and your pussy get surprisingly wet.

“You liked that,” he grunted, “You like praise.”

It was not a question and so you did not answer. The wet patch in your panties that grew by the second was answer enough. Though you could not shake the feeling that he liked you liking praise. Which made it all the better.

“Lift your shirt for me,” he instructed, tongue running over his lips, “You wear a bra?”

You nodded, your hands trembling as you lifted the soft fabric of your favourite going-out blouse. It was black and just the lightest bit sheer and breezy which made it the perfect sexy thing to wear in the warmer temperatures. The air wasn’t cold – it was the height of summer after all – but your nipples pebbled, still, beneath the lace of your bra.

Big hands reached for your tits, cupping them in his palms before lightly squeezing. His touches were softer, first, before they grew firm and had you squirming against the wall. Your breath got quicker already as you thought about the fact that you did not even know this man and he had you half-naked in the corridor of another stranger’s home.

A year ago, you never would have done something like that.

“Wh-What are you doing?” you whined when he still only squeezed your tits, his fingers gently digging into the soft flesh, “Why aren’t you touching me?”

“You asked me to play with your tits,” he replied steadily, his thumb rubbing over the lace that covered your nipple, “That is exactly what I am doing. Playing with your pretty tits.”

“Don’t you want me to take off my shirt?” you asked, confusion clear in your voice as you tried to shift your hands over your shoulders.

“Nah, little one,” he shook his head, a smile on his lips that made your breath hitch, “You are going to hold up your shirt for me. You want me to play with your tits, you got to do something for that, right?”

You nodded, chest heaving as you leaned your head back against the wall. “Right.”

The older man continued his ministrations, gently massaging your tits, pushing and pulling, making them bounce, teasing your nipples through the lace with the pads of his thumbs or his blunt fingernails. You had never been this turned on in your life.

His finger teased under the scalloped edge of your bra, the touch of his bare skin on yours driving you insane.

When he finally pulled down the cups of your bra, baring you to his eyes, you could have wept from relief. “Arch your back for me,” he murmured, sounding so focused and so in control. You did, doing your best to get your chest closer to his hands.

There was no shame now, now apprehension about what you were doing. This man seemed to know exactly what he was doing and you could not help but trust him.

“You have beautiful tits, you know that?” he asked casually as his fingers rolled your nipples, sending little pangs of pleasure through your entire body, “When was the last time somebody properly paid attention to you, hm?”

Too long ago.

And that was what you told him but he pulled your nipples sharply, “Specifics,” he instructed you lowly as you tried to keep your knees from buckling at the sheer sensation this man caused in you.

“Few – few months,” you tried to think feverishly, “Se-seven months. No, nine months.”

“Nine months,” he tsked, his thumb flicking over your pebbled nipple, “What a shame. What a waste. You deserve to have

Not knowing what to say to that, you simply leant into his touch. He expertly rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger before pulling on it ever so slightly, making you whimper. The mix of gentle and rough had you dizzy and wet and you swore none of your eyes had ever made you feel this way.

Stars you did not even know you could feel this way.

“Can I use my mouth on you?” he asked.

Your eyes flew open and you looked at him in surprise. But the older man simply returned your gaze, never pausing in his ministrations and he seemed serious in his questions. He really wanted to touch you more.

 “Yes, please,” you nodded feebly, as if the way you were melting in his hands was not answer enough.

“Good girl,” he praised you again, a smirk on his face, “So polite.”

You squirmed, pressing your thighs together to get some sort of friction to your aching clit. He lowered his head to your chest, his warm breath washing over your skin and you whined, needing him more and more. But he did not let himself be rushed, no. His finger pulled on your nipple again until your whine turned into a gasp. Only then did he let you go and carefully closed his mouth around you. He sucked on you, ever so gently, with just a hint of teeth scraping over the sensitive flesh and you swore your vision went white for just a moment.

He must have noticed the way your entire body spasmed just for him because he pulled away, a glint in his eyes that told you he was far from done with you.

“I wonder if I can make you come just from this,” he murmured against your chest, “Just playing with you until your gorgeous pussy drips all on her own,” he lightly sucked on your nipple, “You want me to try?”

Speaking seemed like the last thing you would be capable of so you nodded, your heavy breaths echoing in the dark hallway.  

“Answer me with words, little one,” he admonished you, pinching your nipple tightly and another wave of wetness rushed down your legs. You wouldn’t be able to sit down anywhere today without leaving a wet patch, that was for sure.

“Yes,” you gasped out, “Please make me come.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned, “You just lean back and keep holding up your shirt for me, yeah? I will take care of the rest.”

And he did. He licked and sucked and pinched until you were a dripping, moaning mess. Your hips had a mind of their own as you started to move against him, trying to grind against the considerable bulge in his pants that had your mouth watering, but his hand was strong on your hip, pinning you back against the wall.

“You are going to come only from this,” he instructed darkly and you nodded. The yes sir almost slipping out of you. You felt like you were on cloud nine, floating above everyone and everything. The dim light, the loud bass that echoed throughout the house, hell, even the sound of partying people two stories below – it all added to the thrill of this stranger sucking on your tit while rolling your other nipple between his fingers.

It felt like you could not breathe, like your whole body was pulled taut with pleasure and he was the only one who could release you. Who could give you release.

“You are such a good girl for me,” he grunted in your ear, “I wish you could see yourself. Absolutely depraved right now. Presenting your tits for a man you don’t know anything about except that he is the one that is going to make you come.”

“I know you would have let me do this downstairs, too,” he added, “But here's the thing: I don’t share. And I don’t think any of these boys even deserve the sight of your pretty tits like this, now, do they?”

You shook your head. “Only you,” you mumbled feverishly, your fingers tightening their grip on the fabric, “Only you, sir.”

His groan was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. “That’s right,” he pressed a hard kiss against your neck, “Only I see you like this. Only I get to see how pretty you look when you come from this.”

For a moment, you debated telling him that you did not think you would come. That you were so turned on – more than ever before – and that what he did felt great but you were not sure if it would actually make you come. But then he bit down on your nipple and pulled the other one and your whole world reeled.

You came. You actually came.

And you did not stop coming for what felt like a solid two minutes. You were shaking, gasping, and at some point, you must have let go of your shirt because you were gripping his broad shoulders with all of your might as if they anchored you to gravity.

“Holy shit,” you brought out when you finally regained control of everything, “Holy fucking shit.”

The stranger had let go of your tits. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug. Strange enough, this felt way more intimate than what you had done before but you could not bring yourself to worry. Not when he smelled so good and the post-orgasm fatigue set in.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised you, his eyes soft and warm as he looked you over, “Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded weakly and he pressed a kiss to your cheek before pulling away. You were still completely out of breath and your pussy pulsed when you saw him adjusting himself in his slacks. You wanted to touch him.

You wanted to be touched by him.

But you were scared, too. Shocked, mostly. At what you had just done. Had you really let a stranger just make you come in a house full of people?

“Let's get you some water,” he murmured as he helped you straighten out your clothes, “And then off to your friends you go.”

You nodded numbly, legs shaking and still unsteady on your feet. But he helped you, one hand on your lower back and the other supporting your arm as you made your way down the stairs. The louder the music got, the more you felt like you had just returned to reality from some sort of dream. Some perfect, delicious, very hot dream.

Returning to the living room turned dance floor, neither of you spoke and you simply accepted the glass of cool water he got you. “Drink it,” he instructed you softly, “And make sure you get home safe tonight.”

When you found Marissa and Chants again, you were still torn between pure shock at what you had just done and grief at not having asked him for his name.

*

Your nipples were sore the next day but you still would have done anything to have that man play with you again. Maybe you could have asked him to spend the night at his place, letting him fuck you seven ways ‘till Sunday. If he had made you come this hard just from playing with your chest, you wanted to find out what he could do if he had you all to himself for a whole night.

Still, you stayed in bed until well past noon, trying to avoid the reality that had seemed to be suspended for just a moment last night.  

It was unlike you and, to be honest, you were a little scared of your forwardness. Of your courage. But it had been rewarded in the best ways and finally, it felt like maybe you really could start fresh. Like maybe this was the moment you needed to gain back the trust in yourself.

You could do things!

You did not have to have everything figured out right now, you just needed the courage to somehow move forward.

And if you could ask a stranger for intimacy at a party, then moving forward seemed like no effort at all.

You skipped a bra, not wanting to subject your chest to more sensation than necessary, and instead opted for a long flowy summer dress and a light cardigan over top. It would give you some coverage, still, so it would not be awkward for your sister’s fiancée to face you.

Looking in the mirror, you felt like your new self. Like maybe you had needed yesterday to get back some of your courage, some of the spirit that had made the past year so fun before everything had just crumbled around you.

“Oh honey, there you are,” your mother greeted you as you came down the stairs, “You came home late last night. Was it a good party, then?”

You knew she was worried and you knew she tried her best to give you the privacy you needed. After all, you weren’t a child anymore. You were a grown woman who had to move back to her parents across the country after losing her job. It was an unfamiliar situation for you all and you appreciated her effort at making you feel like a roommate more than a child.

“It was,” you replied, grabbing a slice of fruit, “It was nice seeing some people from school again. It is like nothing changed.”

“Oh, you and your change,” she tutted good-naturedly, swatting your hand away as you reached for another slice of orange, “That’s for after lunch. It's almost ready.”

You glanced at the clock. “That’s early.”

“Your father has some friends over,” she explained, “From work. They’re going golfing this afternoon so I thought that is the perfect opportunity for an early lunch.”

Thank the stars for your father and his friends because you were starving.

“Go and say hi, honey,” she shooed you out of the kitchen and you smiled, your bare feet hitting the cold tiles of the hallway, “And you can tell them to set the table.”

You found your dad and his friends on the patio, soaking up the warm summer air.

“There you are, hon,” he greeted you with a smile and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Hi, dad. Mom says lunch’s almost ready.”

“Ah,” he slapped his palms on his thighs before standing up, “You know what that means, boys! Time to set the table.”

One of your dad’s friends stood up. George, you remembered. He had lived down the street ever since you could remember and his kids were good friends with your sister. “It's been ages,” he said, a genuine smile on his face. “Look at how you’ve grown!”

You were pretty sure you hadn’t changed that much since graduating college but you were not about to correct him. He meant well, you knew.  

Your father paused, “Oh I am sorry. Everyone, this is my eldest daughter, fresh back from the other end of the world.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not the end of the world,” you corrected him gently, “Just the other side of the country.”

And what wouldn’t you give to be back there right now.

The men all chuckled and you paused when you heard a familiar voice. You ran your eyes over the mostly familiar faces, faces you had known since childhood or at least from the pictures your parents posted regularly on Facebook. Faintly you could hear your dad introduce them all again – George from accounting, of course, then there was Paul and Obi-Wan and James (an absolute perv as you and your sister had determined years ago) and not to forget Bail Organa.

But it was the newest face, the face that was supposed to be unfamiliar, that made your heart freeze for a scary few seconds before it started racing so fast you thought you might throw up.

“Boba Fett,” he said, holding out an all too familiar hand. A hand that had spent considerable time playing with your tits just last night.

“Boba is the CFO after the merger,” your dad introduced the man, “Recently moved here from – where was it again, Boba?”

“Tatooine,” he replied without taking his eyes off you.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you heard yourself say, his hand closing around yours. His grip was gentle but firm. And warm. You could feel the callouses on his fingertips, the ones that had made him playing with you so fucking delicious. Your nipples hardened under the soft fabric of your dress and you prayed that he did not notice.

“Believe me,” he smiled, though his eyes said so much more than the usual pleasantries when they fell to your chest for a fraction of a second, “The pleasure is all mine.”

[doc-pickles]

waking up in vegas | matthew tkachuk x hughes!sister (pt.10)

series masterlist

summary: siblings come to visit and everything changes

warnings: none :)

a/n: okay this is the last official part of this fic BUT I have lots of one shots, social media blurbs, and headcanons rolling around in my head so this is not the end of this universe! thank you all so much for loving this fic as much as you do! i didn't think that this random idea in my head would turn into something so big but I am SO happy it did. i hope you all love this ending as much as I do!

xoxo

nina

“Does the crib really need to be built today?” Matthew groaned as he sat on the floor of the nursery. 

“We’re a month out from my due date, we need to be prepared as possible,” you smiled at him from your spot perched on the glider in the corner of the room. “Think of it as a team building exercise.”

Matthew scoffed, “And what team is that?”

“Team Tkachuk, obviously.”

Matthew smirked up at you, ears tinged pink at the comment. Your relationship had blossomed since your confessions to each other and you found yourself falling more and more in love with him everyday. 

“Okay fine, but only because I know if I don’t build this you’ll try and do it by yourself tomorrow when I go to the rink and that’s the last thing I want.”

“Aw you know me so well,” you laughed as you pressed your fingers into your side. “Your kid is trying to break my ribs over here. Maybe they’ll take up soccer instead of hockey.”

“Don’t put that evil out there,” Matthew glared up at you as you smiled sweetly at him. “He’s gonna be a third generation hockey player.”

“And if it’s a girl?”

Matthew paused for a moment then went back to assembling the crib pieces, “Then she can be the first female NHL player.”

+

The regular season finished up two weeks before your due date, much to your relief. While you were sad the Panthers hadn’t made it into the playoffs you were happy to not have to worry about Matthew possibly missing the birth of your child.  

You and Matthew were enjoying a slow Saturday, sipping coffee and eating breakfast in the kitchen, when a loud knock interrupted your peaceful morning. 

“Who the hell is here at 8 AM,” you grumbled as Matthew headed toward the door. 

A flood of voices sounded out and before you could react all three of your brothers are standing in your kitchen. 

“What- how? What the hell are you guys doing here?” You stuttered over your words as your brothers smiled at you. “Oh my god!”

You were up and out of your seat in seconds as you went to hug all three of them. Laughter echoed around the room as your brothers brought you into their embrace. 

“You look amazing sissy,” Luke said as you pulled back, your nickname from your twin warming your heart. “Little man’s ready to pop, huh?”

“It could be a girl,” you insisted as your brothers snorted and laughed at you. “You guys suck! Worst brothers ever!”

“Sweet, the bar is on the floor,” you turned to see Brady, Emma, and Taryn standing in the entryway. “Taryn we got them beat for best siblings.”

You looked between everyone before turning to Matthew who wore his smirk that you loved so much, “Figured you might want to see everyone before Baby T comes.”

With a grin you launched yourself at Matthew, not caring about your siblings as you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. Your brothers and Brady groaned as Taryn and Emma whooped behind you. You'd confided about everything happening between you and Matthew to the girls and they were overjoyed to hear things were going well. 

“This is borderline harassment,” Luke groaned as you and Matthew pulled apart, his arms tightly wrapped around you. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“My house, you have to deal with me kissing my husband,” you grinned as Matthew squeezed your hips affectionately. “I’m so glad you’re all here! I missed you!” 

“We have a whole day planned,” Taryn smirked as you frowned at her. “Which we know you probably don’t want to do much, but we also know that the nursery still needs some work. So we’re here to help clean and build things and get everything ready for my niece. Well I am, I don’t know about the boys.”

You all settled in for breakfast, Brady producing a box of bagels and donuts while Quinn dished out coffees for everyone. Your siblings talked animatedly while Mathew kept you close in his hold, his hands never leaving you for more than a few seconds. 

“Okay we’re going to work on the nursery,” Quinn announced. “Why don’t you… You and Taryn and Emma can go get pedicures? I don’t know what girls do, just keep yourself busy and don’t worry about us.” 

You glared at Quinn, looking between your brothers, Brady, and Matthew, “If I had to worry about anyone it would be you five. Don’t ruin my baby’s room.” 

Matthew grinned as he leaned down to kiss you, one hand coming up to cup your ever growing bump, “Enjoy yourself a little, yeah? And call me if you need anything.”

You blushed under his gaze, nodding as you leaned in for one more kiss. When you pulled apart your eyes flitted to your brothers who were all watching silently. With a quick thank you, you and Emma and Taryn headed out the door. 

+

“Soooo…?”

Looking over your sandwich you rolled your eyes at Taryn, “Just ask what you want to.”

“How’re things with Matthew,” Taryn eyed you warily, Emma raising an eyebrow in your direction . “Asking as a friend not a sister by the way.”

With a pause you stared at your lunch, thinking back on the past few months. From Thanksgiving to now your life had changed so much. Moving to Florida, falling in love with Matthew, preparing to be a mom… All of these were experiences that had changed you so much. 

“It’s good… It’s great actually,” you sighed and smiled at the girls. “I don’t know Matty is just different now. He’s so sweet and caring and… And I love him. I’ve never said it but I do. I wouldn’t pick anyone else to have a baby with or be married to. The ways my life has changed have been so crazy but I wouldn’t change anything.”

Taryn looked at you with teary eyes and grabbed your hand across the table, “I’m so happy for you two. Three. God I can’t believe Matt is gonna be a dad.”

“He’s such a different person,” Emma remarked. “Even Brady thinks so. I’m glad you two have found each other, no matter how unconventional it was.”

The three of you laughed together and finished your lunch. Exiting the restaurant you headed toward your car, pausing to grab Taryn’s arm, “Tare?”

“Yeah?”

“I would really like it if you’d be the baby’s godmother,” you smiled as Taryn failed to blink back her tears, Emma choking up too. “I couldn’t think of anyone better.”

With a teary laugh Taryn nodded and hugged you close, the two of you embracing in the middle of a parking lot. You knew without a doubt that your baby would be loved and cared for by all of your siblings. 

+

“Oh pizza!”

You walked into the kitchen to find a few pizza boxes scattered across the counter. Matthew came up behind you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. 

“Mmm we ordered from Gino’s, the place that has the Prego Pizza,” Matthew explained as he pointed to one of the boxes, his lips caressing your neck. “It’s supposed to induce labor.”

With a chuckle you crossed the kitchen, grabbing a slice of pepperoni and a slice of the pizza Matthew mentioned, “I doubt that but we can see. Baby T is comfy where they are.”

All of your siblings sat around the table, pizza and drinks flowing as they all chatted with each other. After everyone settled Matthew stood up, grinning at you before looking over the table. 

“I just wanted to say thanks to all of you for trekking down here. We appreciate it so much and know that you’re all going to be such good aunts and uncles to Baby T,” Matthew grinned and then turned to you. “And to my wife… I know this was all unplanned but I couldn’t picture doing this with anyone else. You’ve been the best partner I could ask for and I know we’ve had an unconventional start but you’re the light of every day for me. So… Thanks for sticking with me. I can’t wait to see where we head next.”

With tears in your eyes you leaned up to kiss Matthew as all your siblings cheered. Your brother’s approval meant everything to you as you all settled in for dinner, chirping each other and laughing around your dinner table. 

Matthew grabbed your hand under the table and you leaned into him as he kissed your forehead, “You’re my favorite, ya know?”

“I know,” you chuckled as you squeezed his hand. 

+

Your eyes shot open, reaching for your phone to check the time. 

4:18 AM

With a groan you rolled over and stood to walk toward the bathroom. But as soon as you stood up, a gush of liquid hit the floor. With wide eyes you stared at your legs until a cramp ran through your stomach. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped as you leant over the bed. “Hoooooly shit…”

Focused on your pain you didn’t even register Matthew waking up and turning the bedside light on. It wasn’t until his hand landed on your back that you looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“Hi,” you gasped out. “My water just broke.”

Without a prompt Matthew jumped into action, “Okay, bags are in the car already. What can I do for you?”

“Mmm I need new pants,” you groaned as a contraction ripped through you. “And maybe just your hand to hold. Fuck this hurts!”

Matthew grabbed your hand and used his other one to rub your back as the contraction subsided. With a deep breath you looked up at him with a grin, “Guess that pizza worked.”

Matthew laughed, helping you to sit as he grabbed you another set of underwear and sweatpants. You quickly changed and then took Matthew’s hand to head downstairs. 

You paused in front of the front door, meeting Matthew’s eyes for a long moment. The boy you’d met at your brothers hockey camp, the teen who’d begged you for cookies, the adolescent who’d bothered you for fun, the man who’d loved you so freely… You saw every version of Matthew as you stood at your front door ready to bring a new life into the world. 

“I love you,” you breathed the words out as you cupped Matthew’s cheeks. “I’ve loved you for years, but I know now that I’m in love with you. With every flaw and imperfection. Every truth you’ve given me to hold. All of it. I love you Matty, more than anything.”

Tears shining in his eyes Matthew kissed you wholeheartedly, arms wrapping around you as he held you close to him. 

“I love you too baby,” he gasped, cupping your cheeks. “So much. And I can’t wait for what’s ahead.”

+

“She’s got your eyes.”

You looked over at Matthew with tired eyes, grinning as he held your daughter in his hands. 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed as you reached a hand out to brush her dark curls. “And the curls. She’s got my coloring and nose but she has a lot of Tkachuk in her too.”

Matthew laughed lowly then turned his attention back to your daughter with a grin, “I can’t believe you’re here. You’re real, not just a little thing I would talk to in mommy’s tummy. You’re here in my arms. God, you’re gonna be such a good hockey player. Ice those boys and show em who’s boss.”

The tears fell from Matthew’s eyes before you could comfort him but he was still laughing as he stared at your daughter. Finally he looked up at you with a wide grin, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For her and for you and for… For being the best partner I could dream of. I love you.”

“I love you too.”