#once he realizes how big of a mistake he’s made anyway

[staticscreenwriting]

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times II Joel Miller

Summary: Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (I always try not to describe the reader physically, if I missed something please let me know so I can change it and make this "applicable" to every reader. Thank you!)

A/N: This is my entry for the dear-uary challenge by @jolapeno . My prompt was "Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not." And I chose Postcards as my form of epistolary.

TW: This is mostly angsty fluff. There is some talk of self doubt and loss of a child but I think that should be it.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

It all starts with a simple postcard tucked into the side pocket of his bag. Joel almost doesn’t realize it’s there, folded twice into a tiny square. It’s only when he’s looking for the list Maria gave him of all the things to look for on this run, that he grabs a hold of the card. 

His gloves make it hard to unfold the small paper but it’s way too cold to take them off. Joel was never big on winter and snow, even before everything went to shit. He doesn’t like the way it lingers, the way it consumes you from the inside out. Now, an unforgiving cold is all he feels as a thick blanket of snow has settled upon Wyoming. 

Bold bright letters scream out to him from the wrinkled paper “ Greetings from Tampa Florida. Wish you were here!”.

It’s one of those campy vintage ones where the letters are filled with drawings of landmarks and beaches. He remembers sending one just like this to his High School girlfriend when Dad took him and Tommy on a trip to Nashville when Joel was 16 maybe 17. It was a good trip, the last one they ever took together. Sometimes Joel wonders how his dad would deal with all of this. This new reality. This fucked up world. He always seemed so strong, so fearless. That man was unstoppable force and immovable object all at once. Every vulnerability Joel finds in himself, he’s sure was absent in his father. Maybe if he was a little more like his own dad he could’ve saved Sarah, could’ve spared Ellie the pain of living in this limbo of knowing and not knowing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Joel moves closer to the fire, his only light source other than the stars. There’s writing on the back, blue ink on off-white paper. It’s not a handwriting he knows and for a second he wonders if the card has been there ever since he found the bag years ago, back in Boston. But he would know that, right? Would've found it by now. This must be new. This must be meant for him.

“ I know you hate the cold. I know it makes you sad and gloomy, well gloomier than usual. So let me tell you about the hottest day I ever experienced. I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 and my mom took me to Florida. Not Tampa (it was the only postcard I could find at the library), but Orlando. We went to fucking Disney World!! We didn’t have a lot of money back then so mom must’ve saved a long time for this. Anyway, Joel, it was so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair got all frizzy. Maybe July wasn’t the best time to go. The air was so thick and heavy, so moist (ew). It felt like breathing in honey, syrup maybe. I still had the best time. I know it doesn’t take away the cold but I hope I can take you away to that hot and humid Florida summer for one small moment. If not, there’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag. Made it myself. You never told me what your favorite color is. I hope you like blue. xx 

P.S.: I wonder what happened to Disney World.” 

A chuckle falls from Joel’s lips and forms a cloud against the sharp winter air. He's never been to Disney World. The Millers just weren’t a Disney World kind of family. They were more of a local fair kind of family. All corn dogs and funnel cakes and first kisses behind the bumper cars. Sarah would’ve loved Disney World though. Ellie too. Ellie who doesn’t even know what the hell Disney is. 14 years and the girl has no idea who Mickey Mouse is. What a surreal thought. What a strange world. More than 20 years and it still feels strange. Joel wonders if life will ever let him settle in this new reality. If one day this feels like home and not a bad dream. Not a cosmic punishment. A bad joke that no one’s laughing at anymore.

His eyes travel back towards the blue swirly writing. It’s not Ellie’s bad chicken scratch, he could pick that out of a line-up any day. This looks much neater, more deliberate, and thoughtful. 

“There’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag.”

Quiet, as not to wake up the others sleeping just a few steps away, Joel opens the zipper on his bag and rummages through it with a gloved hand. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, food rations, ammunition, a second pair of gloves. Going on supply runs is not something Joel enjoys but it is a way for him to give back. To Tommy and Maria and the entire community. Jackson and its people have taken him and Ellie in as one of their own without much hesitation. They provided them with food, with shelter, with trust. He has so little to give in return. Going on a supply run to look for medicine and other necessities, that’s the least he can do. 

Something soft and squishy meets his hand and he pulls out a dark blue woolen scarf. There are so many holes and even in the dim light of the campfire, Joel can tell those holes are not there on purpose. Maybe it was Ellie after all, but then she never showed any interest in knitting, and the idea of her doing just that is far too ridiculous. No matter how imperfect it is though, Joel has to admit the scarf does make him feel warmer as he wraps it around his neck. 

“Hey,” Adam, one of the other guys on the run, speaks up from beside Joel, “you can catch some sleep if you want. I can take over the watch.” 

It’s a strange thing, how sometimes you don’t notice just how tired you are or how hungry you are until someone points it out to you. Until they offer to take it from you. Then it hits you like a brick to the face. A wave pulling you under. 

Joel feels his eyelids grow heavy and nods at the younger man. "Thanks". 

This mystery, it can wait until tomorrow. Until then he will bury his face in the warm soft wool of the scarf and think of that Florida sun. And though it most definitely is just his imagination, Joel could almost swear the night feels a little less cold.

His boots leave deep imprints in the white icy blanket as he makes his way past the Tipsy Bison and the community hall further towards his house. His home. 

No place has really felt like home in years. Not since all of this started. Everything was temporary. 4 walls and a roof. He wonders if this place will ever start feeling like home? Will he ever get to a point where he doesn’t wait for the second shoe to drop? It all feels like he’s Charlie Brown and life is Lucy pulling the football away at the last second. And it always ends with him falling. He’s so tired of falling. So tired of getting back up.

Joel almost expects the house to be silent as he steps inside. Ellie is slowly making friends with the other teens living in the settlement and is spending more time at their houses than she is at home. He can’t blame her. If he was more like his father he’d find it in himself to start conversations with people, get to know them, forge connections, make friends. Of the Miller boys, Tommy is the one who inherited their dad’s social gene though, Joel only got the snarl and the crippling inability to talk about his feelings.

Laughter echoes through the house as Joel rounds the corner connecting the entryway to the living room. Ellie’s laughter, loud and bright and light. As if for a moment all the horrors and the pain and the trauma have been taken from her.

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands. 

(Y/N) is standing by the counter, a smile on her face so soft and radiant it might just rival the sun. That joy she brings out in Ellie, it’s familiar to Joel because he feels it too whenever (Y/N) is around. Not always but sometimes. It’s a spark of warmth that starts in his chest and crawls up his spine. It settles in his lungs, his heart, his brain. Like a parasite. Like a virus. Like a wonderful dream. He doesn’t allow himself to feel it all the time but sometimes, sometimes he can’t deny himself this little bit of warmth.

Joel can’t even remember when exactly (Y/N) became a part of their life. It’s like one day she was there and refused to leave. And really that’s kind of how it went. She works at the library and the school, lives across the street from him and Ellie and for some reason, she’s taken pity on them. Joel isn’t sure if it's him or Ellie she pities. Maybe a mix of both. Either way, she brought over some soup one day and that’s the beginning and end of it all. She’s wormed her way into Ellie’s heart and by extension his too. Whether he likes to admit it or not. Doesn't hurt that she's so damn beautiful too.

“Joel, you’re back!” 

Ellie pulls him in a tight hug. It’s something Joel still has to get used to. Ellie isn’t a particularly affectionate person. She’s definitely not a hugger. And neither is Joel — not anymore at least. So when they do hug, it’s still a little strange. Not bad strange just unfamiliar. 

“Yeah, I’m back. 

“How did it go?” (Y/N) asks and meets his eyes over Ellie’s head. A silent conversation happening between her and Joel. It’s that thing she does where she doesn’t need to say a single word but Joel can tell exactly what she’s thinking just by the look in her eyes. He sometimes wonders if this is a them thing. 

“Did someone die” her eyes are saying. “Did someone get hurt?” 

“Did you get hurt?” 

He quickly shakes his head answering her unspoken questions. Not this time. 

“Good. It went good.” 

Maybe the relieved sigh he sees her let out is just his imagination. But Joel doesn’t think so. Joel thinks it's very real.

“Did you bring us something? “ 

He can’t help but smile at that. It feels good to smile. In a world that gives you grief and sorrow, you start to count the moments when it gives you a reason to smile. They are few and far between but the number has surely increased since Ellie stepped into his life — and since (Y/N) did. 

“I brought food and medicine. Isn’t that enough? “

A determined “no” falls from both their lips in a chaotic harmony. 

“Geez, you guys are demanding.” 

“Well — did you bring us something?” 

Joel just rolls his eyes and rummages through his bag for the goods. 

“For you— “ he says and throws the old wrinkled comic book towards Ellie who regards it with that endless sense of wonder she does possess. It’s the kind of spark that flickers and dies once you grow old. Or maybe just his did. Maybe grief leaves no room for wonder. 

Placing his bag on the ground, Joel moves into the kitchen and holds out his loot to (Y/N). Green background. White goats. Yellow bubble letters.

“Oooooh, you did get me something. Pet Sounds, nice!” 

There’s a spark in her too. Dulled and dusted from time but it is there and it flickers and grows every time Joel brings her a vinyl record from his trips outside of the settlement. In a world with so little joy, music seems to be one of the few things that hasn’t changed. In the face of immeasurable pain, humans turn to music. They have done so for a long time and judging by the world as is, they always will. 

“I hope it works still. Didn’t really have a record player to try it out.” 

“I’ll try it out as soon as I get to the library. Feel free to come by and listen with me.” 

“Sure.” 

“Thank you, Joel. I hope you didn’t have to do anything stupid to get this.” 

He didn’t. Not this time. He would’ve though. It scares him how willing he is to put himself in danger just to get her something that will put that radiant smile on her face. He’d walk to the end of the earth if he knew there was a record there she wanted. That thought scares the shit out of him. It’s bad enough he cares so deeply about Ellie, about Tommy. The more people you care about, the more you open yourself up to hurt. Losing either of them would tear him apart. Joel is not sure he can handle opening his heart to yet another person no matter how much his heart wants just that. 

“ Nah. No issues.” 

“Good.” 

She just looks at him for a moment. All soft eyes and gentle smile. There must be something she sees in him, Joel thinks, something he doesn’t see. A version of himself that he isn’t, that he will never be. A version he once was, maybe. A version he so desperately wishes he could be. For her.

“Well,” (Y/N) says and snaps him out of her enchantment “Ellie and I made some stew. I know you must’ve been freezing outside, some good warm stew might help warm you up a little.” 

“It smells great.” 

“You have impeccable timing because we just got done. So, dig in. And uh — I guess I’ll see you guys at the movie screening?” 

He doesn’t want her to leave. The devil and the angel on his shoulders are both screaming at him to ask her to stay. And if he was any stronger a man, any more like his own father and more deserving of good things, he would ask her. To stay for dinner. To stay forever.

But he isn’t. And he doesn’t ask. Just watches as she wraps a scarf around her neck and slips into the thick jacket that's a few sizes too big on her.

“I left the recipe by the fridge. Just in case you ever want to cook it yourself.” 

“Thanks.” 

And he really is grateful. For her. For everything.

“Oh Joel,” she says and stops in the doorway. “I like that scarf. Blue looks really good on you.” 

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the cold winter air. 

Joel hasn’t thought about his favorite color in forever. It’s something you stop thinking about once you start growing hair on your chest and fantasizing about girls in a way you haven’t before. Kids talk about their favorite colors all the time. Sarah did. It’s just once you grow old you lose that sense of self, define yourself through different things. 

Looking at the scarf now, all holes and imperfections, there is no doubt in his mind that his favorite color is blue. 

“Have you ever been to Paris?” 

The lights are dimmed in the big community hall, the movie playing on screen providing the only source of light as the people of Jackson have gathered for another movie night. 

A glimpse into a world that was but no longer is and never will be again. And for some of them, like Ellie, a world that never was to begin with.

Ellie is sitting in the front with some of the other teens, her friends, Joel supposes. She has friends now.

“Joel, have you?” 

A soft hand rests on his arm, shaking him from his gloomy thoughts. (Y/N) sits next to him, eyes focused on the pictures dancing across the screen. Ilsa and Rick, falling in love over and over again in Paris. The beginning of a love story doomed from the start. 

“I uh — no. Never.” 

“Me neither. I would’ve loved to go though. It looks beautiful.” 

He doesn’t know why or how it happens but the words just flow from his mouth like a waterfall. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wanting to talk more. About the past. About Sarah.

“My daughter, Sarah, went to Paris once. Some school exchange program. They don’t usually do it until later but her French class was above average and I guess they won some contest. I don’t know it was a long time ago.” 

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.” 

"Oh, she was. Too smart for me, that’s for sure. Was hard letting her leave and fly to a whole different continent though. I was scared out of my mind until she was back home. Drove Tommy crazy for a whole damn week.” 

(Y/N) turns her face away from the screen and regards him with that infinite sense of something more. Soft and endearing. If he was a different man he would call it love. He would see the way she looks at him and he would kiss her stupid and life would be all sweet dreams and gentle touches. 

But he is the man he is. Not worthy of whatever she is willing to give.

“What’re looking at me like that for?” 

“It’s just sweet how much you care. About everyone. I think you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time.” 

“Do what?” 

“Care for others. For Ellie and me and all of us. You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.” 

He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He can do it all on his own. And anyway, he is not as good of a man as she thinks he is. Good men don’t have the blood of their loved ones stuck to their hands. Good men don’t let their daughters die in their arms. Good men don’t kill. Good men don’t do all the things he did. 

Joel doesn’t want to be a good man. He just wishes he was good enough a man to allow himself to be with (Y/N).

“I ain’t a good man. And I don’t need someone to take care of me.” 

“You wore that scarf, did you not? You allowed me to take care of you then.” 

That damn scarf. He had a hunch it was her. The handwriting on the postcard matched the one of the recipe stuck to his fridge an awful lot. But it’s something else entirely to hear her say it outright. 

“That was you, huh? Had an awful lot of holes that thing.” 

“Hey, I never said I was good at knitting. You wore it anyway.”

Joel turns back towards the screen as Rick and Ilsa share a loving kiss. 

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.” 

And to the sound of bombs and tanks, (Y/N) rests her head on his shoulder.

That’s what you do for the people you love. Even if you don’t allow yourself to love them.

You wear the scarf anyway.

The mailbox flag is up. Bright red against the sharp white of the winter's day. 

It’s never been up. People around here don’t get mail. It’s but an ancient relic of a life they used to live. Remnants of a society long gone. 

But Joel is nothing if not curious. So he stomps up to the mailbox, leaving deep imprints in the freshly fallen snow. 

It’s another postcard. Only this time it doesn’t come with a mystery. This time it comes with that silly little feeling that makes his heart beat just a little faster. That makes his head swirl with stupid thoughts of stupid dreams.

“From Paris with love,” it says on the front. Fucking Paris, of course.

Sometimes the way he feels about her is infuriating, confusing, scary.

And sometimes, like right now, it feels like a ball of warmth settles in his ribcage and warms him from the inside out.

“Dear Joel,

We’ll never have Paris. Not in this life at least. And while I would’ve loved to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle with you and make you eat a croissant (which you would’ve pretended to hate but I think you would’ve enjoyed it secretly), I am glad to get this life with you at least. Or alongside you. Whatever it is we are, I am glad this life gave me that in between all the pain. Despite what you like to tell yourself, Joel Miller, you are a spark of fire, a light in the dark. You are more than the sum of your failures, you are more than your pain. All the good that is in you, that counts. That’s all that matters in the end. And there is so much good in you.

I wish you’d let yourself see it. 

We will never have Paris. But we’ll always have Jackson and that is enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

There’s a tragedy in knowing someone else sees all your good parts and none of the bad. A tragedy in knowing how much they like those good parts and being awfully aware that seeing all the bad parts would destroy them. 

A tragedy in still wanting to show them all of you, even the ugly soul-destroying parts.

But if she thinks he’s a good man, then Joel needs to be just that. A good man who keeps those ugly parts hidden and away from her. Even if that means denying himself the one thing he wants. 

“What’s that?” Ellie speaks up from beside him, a curious look on her face.

“Postcard.” 

“Like what people would send from vacations and stuff?”

“Yeah, how do you know about that?” 

She rolls his eyes at him and it’s one of those moments where he feels like a dad again. Those little moments that mean the world to him because he gets to feel like the old him. The Joel he thought was long dead and buried beside the bones of his own child.

“I watch movies? I talk to people? I read books? Take your pick.” 

“Wow, when did you become such a smartass, huh?” 

She shrugs his shoulders at him “Was born that way. Nothing I can do about it.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Hey, you’ve grown to love me! You wouldn’t want me any other way.” 

And she isn’t wrong. Ellie, with all her curiosity and her bravery and her lust for life, whatever that life may look like, is exactly what he needed. Which makes him wonder if saving her from the fireflies was ultimately more of a selfish act than that of a heroic savior. 

“Who’s it from?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Oh, so (Y/N).” 

His eyes flick up and he is met with that satisfied, mischievous grin that is so uniquely Ellie.

“What makes you think that?” 

“You always change the subject when I bring her up. And that way you just jumped when I mentioned her? Yeah, you’re not slick, old man.” 

“Hey! Who are you calling an old man?” 

“You! Old and scared!” 

“I’m not scared!” 

Like hell he is. Terrified even. But there ain’t no way in hell he’ll admit that to Ellie. She’ll never let him hear the end of it. 

“Then go talk to her! She likes you, you like her. Why do you have to make it so complicated?” 

If only she knew all the ghosts swirling around inside of him threatening to break free. Things could be so easy. Only nothing ever is.

“Mind your own business, kid! Anyway, don't you have someplace to be? Think Dina came by earlier asking for you. You two are getting along well, huh?” 

“Aaaand on that note. See you for dinner, old man!” 

She’s gone before he can even hurl a reply at her. It pulls his lips into a smile. There’s no better way to get a teen to shut up than to bring up their crush. Nice to see that some things never change.

Another run. Another record. 

Joel feels silly, standing here in front of her door with his heart beating fast and heavy as he clutches the vinyl record in his hand. 

If Ellie saw him now, she’d surely make fun of him. Tommy too. Sarah even. 

What happened, Joel? You used to be so brave. What makes you so afraid now? 

Life, he thinks. Life has made him scared and bitter and sad. 

“Did you wanna knock or — ?” 

Joel turns around as the voice calls out to him. There it is again, that softness, that smile. 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Okay, good. Did you come to see me? Sorry, I was helping Maria at the farm.” 

“Yeah no uh — don’t worry about it. I just came to drop this off” 

Her eyes grow wide as she catches sight of which record it is he’s holding up. 

“No way! The stranger! You found it.” 

“ I did.” 

He had to clear an old dilapidated bar full of clickers to get that record. Almost lost his damn arm in the process. But her smile, that god-damn, life-ruining, world-shattering, heart-beat-faster, smile of hers makes it all worth it. He would give both arms, all of him. He would give it all to see her smile.

“Do you wanna come in and listen to it with me? Got my player fixed so I don’t have to use the one at the library anymore.” 

Say no. Just say no and go home. Be a good man! Be a better man! 

But he’s not. For this one moment, he can’t be that man. He’s just as weak as the rest of them. 

“Sure.” 

This feels so — normal. So before everything. Different and twisted and warped. But normal.

It’s scary and comforting all at once. Like a tipsy dream when you know you’ll wake up with a headache for sure.

(Y/N) is twirling around her living room, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. Joel leans against the door connecting her living room and her kitchen and all he can do is stare. At this woman who means so much to him. Too much for him to ever put into words. If he even knew how to. He’s never been a poet. 

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

“I love this song. Can you imagine someone loving you enough to write something like this about you?” 

Yes, he thinks. If only he WAS a poet. He would write a hundred songs. A thousand. And all of them would talk of her smile and her eyes and the way there is no single thing about her he would change. 

But words fail him. They always do. 

So he just nods.

“Joel,” she says and moves closer. The bottle of beer now placed on her couch table, her hands find his chest. So warm. So soft. And all he does is stare. 

“I know you got my postcards. I know you know how I feel. And sometimes I think you feel the same. I see the way you look at me. I know the dangers you put yourself in to get me those records. I just — you never say anything. So am I making a fool of myself here? Please tell me if I — “ 

“You’re not.” 

Wow, so eloquent. 

“I’m not?” 

Her voice sounds so small. So unsure. He hates that he’s the one who put the uncertainty there. Be a better man, Joel! Be a good man for once! 

But all he does is stare. Words fail him. Again. again. again.

“Then can I — can I do this?” 

(Y/N)’s gaze falls to his lips then back up to his eyes. She is so close. He can feel her warm breath on his skin. Can smell the scent of her shampoo. Notices the tremble of her fingers as her hands rest on his chest.

And he wants to kiss her. Every version of him that ever was and ever will be wants to kiss her. But all he does is stare.

All he does is stare and pull away.

And it breaks his heart to see hers break in that moment. 

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

Tears gather in her eyes, fill them with sorrow, fill his heart with rage. He can’t do anything right, can he? Everyone he’s ever loved, he’s disappointed. But how can he let himself love her, how can he let her love him, when he is so broken? When all he does is break things?  Taint them with this infinite sadness that lives and grows inside his bones? 

“It’s not you.” 

“Oh please, Joel. I made a fool of myself already. Don’t make it worse.” 

“I ain’t trying to. It just ain’t you. It’s all me. It’s always been me”

His palms are sweaty and he feels like someone has reached into his ribcage, cracked every rib on the way to his heart, and ripped it out with bare hands. Snapping veins and arteries and all.

“I want you. I want this but I can’t have it. You think I’m a good man but the truth is, I am not. I do bad things all the time, over and over again and time and life have made me so numb to it. But you, you are so good. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.”

It’s like once he’s started it all comes flowing out like a fucking waterfall. All his fears and insecurities and pain. It’s all there for her to be disgusted by. Because god knows there is no way she won’t be. He is. All the time.

“I have not been the same since this all started. Since Sarah — since she died. I live with this immense grief. It surrounds me. It IS me. All of me. And I so desperately want to claw my way out of it. Rip it apart and leave it behind. But at the same time, I want to bury myself in it. Because what if I do leave it behind and I start to forget? Her and all that she was? How is it fair that I have to remember her far longer than I got to know her? So if I get better, if I become the man I need to be to be worthy of your love, am I still gonna be the man she knew? Can I still remember? Because that is all I have. And that is not a burden I can put on you. Not you and not Ellie.”

Joel takes a breath then another but it does little to calm him down.

“You two mean everything to me and I am sorry I am bad at showing it. That I can’t say it. I need you to know, it’s all me that’s the problem. It was never you. I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. He doesn’t think he has the heart to hear a reply anyway. It’s like he just ripped himself open and spilled all his guts, his heart, his lungs, and all his inside out on her living room floor. 

If he was any better of a man he’d pick them up and try to rearrange them.

But he is not a good man. Maybe he never was.

“There was something for you in the mailbox” Ellie exclaims and slumps down on the couch next to him. “I was this close to opening it but I didn’t want to make you even more grumpy than you already are.” 

“I’m not grumpy” 

He has to admit, the tone in which he said those words does not do much to counter her point. Ellie knows too, judging by the way she raises her eyebrow “Sure, you’re not.” 

She drops a sunflower yellow envelope on his lap. ‘Joel’, it says in that swirly handwriting he’s become so familiar with.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen (Y/N). Since he spilled all his sorrows and worries to her and then ran. And, surprisingly, Jackson makes it very easy for someone to avoid another person if you only try hard enough.

Maybe Ellie has a point, maybe he has been exceptionally grumpy lately. No correlation to any recent events though. Absolutely zero.

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

Ellie looks at him with curiosity and that little spark of mischief as if she knows something he doesn’t. 

“Not with you watching over my shoulder, I ain’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause it’s none of your business.” 

“Excuse me? I have to live with your grumpy ass because you guys can’t get your shit straight. I think it very much is my business.” 

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!" 

“Sorry,” she says and gives him that pseudo-sheepish look he’s grown familiar with. “You guys need to get your stuff straight.” 

He used to scold her for it but really, he isn’t one to talk. 

“Anywayyyyy, I’ll go stay at Dina’s tonight … just in case you decide to go over and apologize for whatever it is you did and you guys finally sort it out and need some privacy later.” 

“Why do you think I did something?” 

And there it is again that sassy eyebrow raise. The same one he’s seen on Sarah so many times before. It truly is a woman’s world and he’s but a fool living in it. And they let no opportunity pass to remind him of just that.

They are also absolutely right.

“My lawyer advised me not to answer that question. Anyway, be nice. Have fun. Byyyye” 

Her voice trails off as she grabs her bag and rushes outside leaving Joel alone in this big empty house with nothing but his demons and this mysterious envelope.

Carefully he opens the seal and shakes out the contents. A postcard, a photo, and a — cassette tape? 

His eyes find the photo first. It’s a polaroid of him and Ellie and (Y/N). All 3 of them smiling, yes even him. He remembers that day back last summer. It was one of those warm but not yet hot days. (Y/N) was wearing that agonizingly beautiful red sundress. The one that made his heart beat twice as fast. She brought over a whole basket full of cherries from the tree in her garden. A pie too. And that damn Polaroid camera. 

Of course, Ellie was enamored by it, wasted almost the whole damn film. 

“Come on Joel, let's take a picture together,” she had called out to him and pulled him to sit down next to her and (Y/N) on the blanket they had placed on the lawn. 

“I’m not a picture guy,” he had grumbled, “ ain’t nobody want to see my old mug.” 

“Oh shut up. Joel, you are so handsome, don’t even pretend like you don’t know that.” 

It was the first time (Y/N) had ever called him handsome. It was hard for him to believe it then, hell it still is. But she has done it a lot more since then. Calls him handsome and gorgeous and pretty all the time. At first, he thought she was just humoring him but slowly but surely it dawned on him that she meant it. Means it still.

“We don’t know how many good sunny days we have left. Ain’t no shame in trying to remember this one, right?” 

Her eyes held so much honesty then. Vulnerability too. And gratefulness for all they had then after all they had lost. It made him smile then and it makes him smile now.

The Postcard is next, big bold letters spell out TEXAS and in the corner, there’s a drawing of the Texas State Capitol in Austin.

When he turns the Postcard over, there it is again, that swirly writing he’s grown to love so much. 

“Joel, the ‘Postcards from around the world’ book I got from the library didn’t have an Austin one but it did have a Texas one so that’ll have to do. I’m not even sure if you're going to read this. I hope you do because you didn't give me a chance to say my part when you stormed off & I think I deserve that.

You're not the man you were in Austin, you lived through the worst thing imaginable and it changed you. But you are not just your pain. It is part of you but it doesn't define you. I know you see all the bad but none of the good but believe me I see it! Ellie does! You are your pain but you are also the smile on Ellie's face when you bring her a new comic or teach her a song. You're the guitar chords echoing through the air on a warm spring afternoon. You are those fluttery feelings in my heart whenever you look at me.

Joel Miller, I understand if you don't want to be with me but if it's only because you don't think you're good enough then I think that's a choice I get to make. Taking that from me is a dick move. 

You said you're bad at showing love but you're not. You showed me through all those records. Through all those songs. Now let me love you back.”

Joel can’t quite name the feeling spreading through him. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time. Like an old friend. A hazy memory. Pictures blurred and dulled by time and age. 

Maybe he was wrong, and he hates admitting that. Maybe he ain’t a good man but maybe that is hers to decide. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He takes the cassette tape in his hand and squints his eyes at the tiny writing on the label. God, he really is getting old. Those eyes ain’t what they used to be.

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

You’re my best friend - Queen - A Night at the Opera

Just Like Heaven - The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (you should!) 

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper - She’s so unusual

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis - Blue Hawaii

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs (!!!! LOVE SONGS!!!)

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

"You gave me all these records with all these songs and all these words to tell me you love me and I’m not sure you even knew.” 

And she’s right. He got her those records because he knew they’d make her smile. Because that smile means everything to him whether he wants to admit it or not. He got those records to show her that even when he’s gone on a run, she’s always on his mind. He believed it to be a curse, a ghost haunting him for all his past mistakes and taunting him with what he shall never have.

But maybe it’s not a curse. 

Maybe it’s a blessing. A sweet song to remind him that someone back home is waiting. A gentle reminder that life can and will go on and good things can come from immense tragedy. And moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, in fact, it means remembering. Remembering the bad and believing that there can and will be good and that it’s worth it to go on. Even if you are a different you. Not worse or better, just changed. And that you deserve love. And kindness. And warmth.

Joel drops the envelope and its contents on the table and grabs his thick winter jacket as he rushes outside. The cold feels only half as bad as it nips at his skin, he barely notices. There is a fire inside him now, burning away all the doubts and hesitation. 

He’s back at her door, only this time he doesn’t wait to knock. He’s spent so much time denying himself the one thing he wants that he can’t lose just one second more. The rapping of his knuckles against her door echoes through the winter day. Oh, how he can’t wait for the spring and the summer and her in that gorgeous dress. 

“Joel?” 

Back before — everything, Joel remembers a movie night with Sarah. She got to choose and despite being an avid fan of trashy action and horror movies, that time she chose a romantic comedy. All things considered, Joel can admit that when Harry met Sally wasn’t the worst choice but he still would’ve preferred Star Wars or Terminator. 

He does remember the ending though, the grand finale. He remembers Sarah trying to wipe away tears without him noticing. And he remembers Billy Crystal’s words “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” 

Back then he thought it was some silly, cheesy movie speak. No one feels that way, right? It’s grandiose and kitschy for the sake of movie magic.

But no, he’s sure now, that one is true. Because it’s how he feels.

“I love you!” 

That confession should come with ribbons and flowers and fireworks but it doesn’t. It comes with honesty and that is all that matters. It comes from the heart.

“Huh?” 

“I got your postcard. The photo too and the tape. And I love you.” 

“I know. Took you long enough to figure it out.” 

“I’m sorry. I — I still believe that I am not a good man and that you deserve better. But it would be selfish to punish you for my own insecurities. I love you and I want to let you love me. If you still want to, that is.” 

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please just fucking kiss me.” 

Joel remembers a lot of kisses in his lifetime. Some rushed, some clumsy. Quick kisses in secret. Long drawn-out smooches in smokey bars. Loving, fast, aggressive, and soft. 

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

This kiss makes him feel like all he’s ever been and all he ever will be can live in peace with one another. This kiss makes him feel like none of it matters as long as he has her. 

She tastes like peppermint and sunshine and he’s sure he’ll never get enough of her. The feeling of her skin against his as he gently cradles her face in his hand. The soft movements on her chest as she breathes. The twitch of her lips as she smiles into the kiss.

For the first time in his life, Joel is sure that a kiss is more than a kiss. It’s a healing hand on a shattered heart. It’s a new path to a new future. It’s sunshine melting the ice from his bones.

It’s a promise to try every day and to be better and to be enough. ---

[tuulikannel]

(part II)

The boy walked down the street, briskly. Every step that brought him farther away from that place made him feel lighter, and he would have wanted to run, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

“Good morning, Asano-kun!” someone still called at him in passing, and he waved his hand a little.

Asano-kun. Perhaps that really was his name. But if that man actually was his father… why had he called him that?

…perhaps because even he realized what a stupid name Gakushuu was and didn’t want to use it. The boy rolled his eyes a bit.

As the distance to the house grew, he started to calm down, and as he calmed down, he began to think. Maybe it had been a mistake to run away like that. He felt like he should have been able to handle this situation better. Now, he was out in the streets, without any idea where he was going. It was downright pathetic how he had allowed himself to be freaked out like that.

He patted his coat. There were a few bills and coins in one pocket, but that was all. He should have found more resources before he left. More money, or a credit card… he didn’t even have a phone. Well, that might be a good thing, at least they wouldn’t be able to track him via it.

They, he wondered as he spotted a bus and sprinted toward it, just about catching it. Who ‘they’? Who was he running from?

He used the coins to buy himself a ticket and sat down at the very end of the bus. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like he had been hasty to leave the way he did. Had there been a laptop in the room where he woke up? He thought so. He could have used that to do some research. On this ‘Asano Gakushuu’ who he supposedly was. Maybe on the man who claimed to be his father.

Now… he was on a bus on his way to god knew where, and all he had was – he dug all the money out of his pocket and counted it – 4203 yen. He would not get far with that.

Oh well. He sat back, watched the view from the window and let the bus carry him through this city he could have sworn he had never seen before. He got away, that was the most important thing.

He rode on the bus for half an hour, then decided to jump off. The bus had arrived at a busy business district, and he allowed himself to be swept away along the masses of people.

Was this his home city, he wondered as he watched the towering buildings and their flashing advertisements. Had he lived here all his life? Why couldn’t he remember a single thing? As big as the city was, of course, it was possible he hadn’t been to this part of it… but he doubted that. This seemed like a pretty central area.

He paused to look at a shop window with Christmas decorations. So it was December? No wonder it was quite chilly… good thing he had taken the coat. If only he had grasped some gloves too… He buried his hands into his pockets and once again cursed himself for leaving so hastily.

As he turned away from the shop window his eyes stopped on a café, and he realized he was a little hungry. True… he hadn’t had any breakfast. He fingered hesitantly the few bills inside his pocket. He shouldn’t waste them in a café… there were other places where he could get something to eat for much cheaper.

Even so he walked in. Big difference… he’d be out of money soon enough, anyway.

So, what should he order, he wondered as he stood in the line. Coffee? Did he like coffee? And if he did, what kind? Black…? Maybe… he had a feeling he took it as strong as possible.

“Latte, please,” he still heard himself saying when it was his turn. He also ordered a sandwich and waved a sad goodbye to a thousand yen bill.

The latte was good. It seemed to have been the right decision. He took his time eating, trying to form a plan. The lack of money was truly a problem. He would be able to spend one night at net café, maybe two, if he found a cheap one, but after that… he’d be broke. And that would leave no money for other things, like food. He took another bite of the sandwich, savoring its taste. It really had been stupid to buy all this, hadn’t it? At least he should have found a cheaper café.

Still… could he really expect that the situation would be somehow fixed in a day or two? Unlikely. He didn’t know much about amnesia, but even though he was quite sure it could be temporary, he didn’t even know what had caused his. He touched his head, carefully. It didn’t feel like he had hit his head. Brain damage was unlikely. He felt quite healthy, too, so a high fever most likely wasn’t the cause either. Seizure? Great shock?

He lowered his hands to the table with a sigh. Who knew. But given how severe this was, he couldn’t trust that it would simply go away just like that.

So what were his options? Go to the police, or to a hospital? But… if that man had told him the truth, wouldn’t they just send him back to the place he had just escaped…

But what else could he do? He needed money, but without any kind of an id, without address, without a name, where could he find work? He was a minor, too, and even though he could lie his age, that didn’t remove the other problems. Perhaps…

“Look at that!” a voice exclaimed. “Is Ace-kun skipping school?”

He looked up and saw a redheaded boy, about his age, approaching his table. There was something familiar about him. As he stared at the redhead, trying to remember a name, the boy plopped down to sit opposite to him, grinning widely.

“Or are you here for some important presidential business? Huh? Ace-kun?”

“Ace-kun,” he repeated, tasting the words and ignoring the rest of the nonsense the redhead had said. Hmm. Well, better than Gakushuu, maybe. “Why… do you call me that?”

The redhead tilted his head a bit, watching him curiously. “Huh? You seriously asking that? You, the Ace of Kunugigaoka?”

“Kunugigaoka,” he repeated, again rolling the syllables slowly on his tongue. That name… was not without a meaning. He just didn’t know the meaning.

He looked at the redhead and noted that underneath his black coat, he was wearing a school uniform similar to his. So, they went to the same school? Perhaps they even were classmates. Kunugigaoka… would that be the school?

“Can I borrow your phone?” he asked, and the redhead’s eyes widened a bit at the sudden question.

“My phone? Something wrong with yours?”

“I don’t have it with me.”

The other gave him a long look. Then he shrugged a little. “Sure. But I want to see what you do with it.”

He took the phone, nodding slightly, and opened a web browser. He typed in Asano Gakushuu, and the redhead snorted.

“What, you borrowed my phone to google yourself?”

He said nothing, just scrolled down the search results that were quite numerous. So it really was his name. And he seemed to be quite an accomplished person. And the student council president of Kunugigaoka… well, it all made sense to him.

He added ‘father’ into the search after his name, and sure enough, that man’s face appeared on the screen. Damn it. So that was true, too.

Apparently his father was the board chairman of the school, and had made himself name as a reformer of education. None of that explained why he felt like he should stay as far away as possible from this father of his.

He gave the phone away. “Thanks.”

The redhead took the phone, watching him curiously. “What’s going on?” he asked.

The boy gave him a long look. Until now, the redhead’s tone had had a mocking quality to it. This question was serious.

If only he remembered who this boy was. Someone he knew, definitely. Someone…who got on his nerves? But even so…

He bit his lip, considering. He truly didn’t have many options here.

“I need a place to stay,” he said quietly. “At least for a few days. You have any idea where I could go?”

The redhead stared at him. “Wait, you’re asking me? For real? Ace-kun is asking me for help?”

He sighed, a little annoyed. “I know,” he said, and he did know. “You’re… a bothersome person. But nevertheless, still someone I… respect. So…”

“Have you hit your head or something?”

The boy shook his head. “I considered it, but I don’t think so. But… please. I can’t go back… home.” It still felt wrong to refer to that place as home, but apparently it truly was that.

“Why?” the redhead asked, and he said nothing. It wasn’t like he could have explained it.

“Does this have something to do with that psycho father of yours?” the redhead went on as the silence stretched.

Psycho, huh. So perhaps his gut feeling wasn’t that wrong. “Perhaps,” he just said.

The other just kept on staring at him, amber eyes unblinking and sharp. “I just don’t get… why are you asking me of all people? Why don’t you go to those minions of yours?”

Minions, huh, he wondered, feeling a little disturbed. But he needed to say something.

“Just because of that,” he hazarded. “It’s… unlikely that anyone would ask you about me.”

“True.” He nodded slowly, but something about his eyes said that he wasn’t quite convinced. Then he grinned. “Well, I got to say I’m intrigued. So… sure. You can stay at my place.”

“Really?” He hadn’t been expecting that. “Are you sure your parents are ok with that?”

The redhead shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, they’re not home.”

“Thank you, then,” he said gravely, and for some reason the redhead frowned, giving him a long look. “That is a great help.”

“Hmm.” The other reached suddenly across the table, touching his forehead.

He pulled back a little. Why did everyone do that? “What?”

“Sorry, just wondering if you’ve a fever or something.”

“I do understand if you think I’m behaving weirdly,” he replied, and he did. His behavior must be quite different from usual. Most likely their relationship wasn’t that good… perhaps it had been a mistake to ask this boy for help. He would have to be careful with how much he told him. “There are reasons for everything… but I can’t tell you details yet.”

“Even though I’m taking you in, huh?”

“Yes,” he just replied levelly. “I’m sorry,” he added then. “I really am thankful.”

The redhead blinked. “Fine then, Ace-kun,” he said after a short silence. “You’re welcome, I guess? But I’m sure you know this… I’m gonna do my damnedest to uncover your secret.” He flashed him a wolfy grin.

The boy shrugged. “Fair, I guess.” In all honesty, he was mainly relieved. This took care of the immediate problem of finding a place to stay, anyway. “It sort of feels like fate, don’t you think,” he said thoughtfully. “You know… randomly meeting someone I know amid all these people.”

“Hmm. Maybe it’s just karma.” The redhead smirked a little, and it felt like this was some kind of a joke.

“What do you mean?”

A moment they stared at each other. The redhead blinked slowly. “You know… it is my name.”

“Karma?” he confirmed, just in case. The other frowned. Right. If they knew each other, he should have known his name. “Yeah… we both have sure been blessed with imaginative parents, haven’t we?” he just said dryly. “I’ve always found it hard to believe that actually is your real name… but I guess I’m not one to talk, huh?”

He wasn’t quite sure how well the redhead fell for his attempt to make it seem like he totally knew his name. At least the other – Karma – didn’t say anything.

He finished his latte. “Shall we go then? Or are you planning to get something?”

“Nah.” Karma shook his head. “I just came in cause I saw you in the window.”

They left the café. “So, you want to head straight away to my place, or…?” Karma asked.

He considered the matter. A place to stay, good. But money was still a problem. He should get some necessities, and it wasn’t like he could be wearing the same clothes day after day. Was it too much to ask Karma to get him something?

“Let’s go there for now,” he just said. He needed to think about all this.

So so so... I'm sick, and for whatever reason my brain decided that this is a good time to start writing an amnesiac Asano fic. I've so many other fics in the works that I don't know if I'll ever continue this, which is why I decided to post it here. Mainly I just had this one scene in my mind, and wanted to use this chance to have Shuu say something to his father.

But yeah. Here's a little untitled fic snippet for you, about 1000 words.

One cold December morning a boy woke up. He was lying on his back in a bed, and he remained there a good while, absolutely still, staring at the ceiling. Gradually, the frown on his face deepened.

Where… was he?

He sat up, looking at the room. A desk with schoolbooks on it, a bag on the floor, clothes set ready on a chair… were those his clothes? He touched them, hesitantly. There was something familiar about them, true…

Still confused, he decided to dress up. Whatever was going on, better not to face it in the pyjamas.

He gave the desk with the books one more glance and slipped quietly out of the room. The empty corridor behind the door was quiet and gloomy. He swallowed and started walking it down, instinctively stepping as quietly as he could. He took careful peeks into the rooms he passed, but there was nothing familiar in them, nothing to solve this mystery.

Ah, a toilet. That might be a good idea, no matter what was going on.

As he was washing his hands, his eyes fell on himself in the mirror, and he paused. Wait, was that what he looked like? Strawberry blond hair, violet eyes… He blinked, touching his cheek. Yeah. That was him.

Him…

He… who was he?

“My name is,” he started to say to his mirror image, but no name came to his tongue. “My name is,” he repeated more strongly, but to no avail. Nothing. His mind was empty.

His heartbeat sped up as he stared at himself, trying fervently to think. Who was he? Where did he come from? What did he do, what did he like?

He didn’t have a clue.

Also… what was this place he was in? His home? That would make sense, but… he pushed the toilet door open and shot a careful glance around.

This didn’t feel like home.

He didn’t know where he was, but he did know that he wanted to get out of there.

He came down the stairs, making his way slowly through the house, trying to spot a single detail that would seem familiar. Nothing. Step by step his nervousness rose, and he could feel his breath getting caught in his throat.

In the kitchen, there was a man sitting by a table, drinking coffee while reading something on his laptop. The boy paused at the doorway, wondering if he shouldn’t just go on, but the man had already noticed him. He gave the boy a curt glance.

“Sleeping late today, Asano-kun?” he said.

The boy blinked. “Asano… kun? Is that my name?”

The man lowered his coffee mug to the table, frowning at him.

“Is this some kind of a joke? Or are you implying you’re going to leave the family and pick a different name? Well, you’re free to do that once you’re an adult. For now, as long as you live in this house, you are still Asano Gakushuu.”

There was a long silence as the two stared at each other. The frown on the man’s face deepened as he looked into the boy’s eyes that reflected nothing but honest confusion.

“What are…?” he started to say, but the boy shook fervently his head.

“Are you serious? That’s my name? What the hell… why am I called ‘study’?”

“It’s written with the kanji for learning and excellence, you know,” the man started to explain, his tone hesitant, but the boy (Gakushuu? What the hell! He would not be called that) cut him off again.

“If that really is my name, I think I am gonna change it! It’s ridiculous!”

He was growing increasingly agitated. What was going on here? Was he caught in some strange nightmare? This house that made him so nervous, not to talk about this man… and that ridiculous name. This couldn’t be real.

“I’m dreaming,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut. “This got to be a dream…”

A chair scraped against the floor as the man stood up. “Are you truly trying to say you can’t remember anything? Gakushuu?” A hand touched his forehead and he instinctively drew back. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring straight into the man’s. That unblinking, piercing stare made him feel cold inside, and he took another step back.

“Or is this some plot of yours?” the man went on, but he couldn’t really pay attention to what he was saying. Being so close to this man… made him even more nervous than this house. “What are you planning to accomplish? Amnesia is a serious matter, not something to joke about!”

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” the boy spat out, ignoring everything he had said.

The man paused. As he stared at the boy in front of him, the sterness on his face gave way to hesitation. “I… I’m your father,” he said then.

“No.” The boy denied it firmly, unhesitatingly, without even pausing to think about it. “No, you… you can’t be.”

“But…” Now the man seemed to be at a loss. Something about that amused the boy, but even so, he couldn’t help being on his guard. This man was dangerous. He knew that much.

“But,” the man repeated and swallowed. “If you don’t remember, how could you know…?”

“It doesn’t feel right,” he said. “I just can’t… can’t believe that you…” He shook his head. “There’s no way that’d be true. You’re not my father. Can’t be. You’re someone… I...” detest, he was about to say, but his voice trailed off. Was it a good idea to antagonize this man?

The man stared at him long and hard, his face utterly unreadable. “Wait here,” he muttered then. “Wait. I… I need to make a phone call.” He left the kitchen, fishing out a phone from his pocket.

The boy waited a moment, tiptoed then out and peeking into the living room, saw him standing by the window, talking with someone on the phone. Good. This was his chance.

Moving as quietly as he could he headed to the front door, put on shoes (interesting that there were clearly several shoes that could be his), grasped a coat and slipped out.

Leaving the house behind he finally felt like he could breathe again.

(tbc??? who knows, if I get inspiration)

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[inside-lees-mind]

Naruto Characters Accidentally Calling their Girlfriend their Wife

MR KRABSSSS I HAVE AN IDEAAA

Fem reader (or if you want to be called wife)

Characters: Naruto, Sasuke, Shino, Kiba, Shikamaru, Choji, Neji, Rock Lee, Kankuro, and Gaara.

(Masterlist is up now) also I’ll be adding Sai to this in the morning

Naruto Uzumaki

He’s talking to some new people and enthusiastically pulls you to his side, a large smile on his face, and he says “This is my wife! Y/N!”

You can’t hide your shock, not fully at least. He’s never called you his wife before. I mean, he’s said things like “you’ll be my future wife, right?” As he giggles or something.

But you are in a state of shock that he introduced you that way.

Nonetheless, you’re happy.

If the person makes a comment about how young or cute you two are for a married couple, he’d realize. Likely, he’d respond a little oddly, stuttering, but recovers and just full sends with the claim you’re his wife.

Sasuke Uchiha

If he’s with you, you’re gonna be his wife anyways. He didn’t get with you until he was sure of that, because it took him a long time to realize he felt that way anyways.

So he calls you his wife with full confidence, before realizing his mistake. However, he doesn’t care too much to correct himself or anything.

Because you are gonna marry him right? (He’s actually really nervous to propose, but he won’t admit that.)

People would probably just believe him immediately considering just how serious he is about you to even be with you.

When you confront him about it later, he’ll ask you if that was okay, explain it was a mistake, but he’ll probably comment on how he’s dating to marry anyways so… you might as well be his wife.

You can probably expect a proposal soon.

Shino Aburame

I can’t fully see this happening tbh. However, let’s say that it does.

He’d probably over explain himself to the person he referred of you as his wife too.

Not that he doesn’t want you as his wife, but you haven’t said you’ll be his wife yet. So he can’t call you his wife. That’s how he sees it.

He’ll probably think he messed up and upset you, so you’ll have to explain it was cute.

Once you explain to him, he’ll see your point. Maybe with some reluctance to lighten up on himself.

He’ll be happy you want to be seen as his wife though.

Kiba Inuzuka

Realized his mistake, but he could not be bothered.

He will keep on as if there is no mistake. As if you are legally married.

He’ll be upset if you correct him in front of people.

It’ll turn into a bit of an argument if you correct him in any way other than sweetly.

Because what the big deal???

If you leave it alone, and talk to him later, now he’s nervous and stuttering. But he’ll likely comment on how he knows you want to marry him so you might as well be called his wife.

Shikamaru Nara

Immediately realizing what slipped out his mouth.

Does he really want you to be his wife? Well, of course he does. But that’s a lot for him to accidentally spill out to some strangers you’re both meeting.

They don’t know he made a mistake, because you roll with it.

Later, he’ll try to avoid talking about it, but if you bring it up, he’ll say it was a mistake, don’t take it so seriously.

If you seem down about his underwhelming response, he’ll likely have an actual talk about his future with you to reassure you that he was just being an idiot when he said that.

Choji Akimichi

He forgot you’re not his wife.

I think Choji would just love you so much that he would simply treat you like a wife. To the point he forgets, you’re not his wife.

If you comment on it, he’ll think about it and probably be like ohhhh right.

He’ll apologize, but more than likely you’ll just say it was cute.

I can see him calling you wifey.

But if he’s gonna call you that, he’s gotta get you that ring. He’s planning on it as yall speak.

Neji Hyuga

You two are waiting a while before calling it official. Plans of marriage are far off.

He’s a little too traditional to jump at marriage quickly.

So when he accidentally calls you his wife, it was to Hiashi. He went pale. Paler than usual.

Later, depending on how exactly that went, he’ll probably be in his head.

Let’s assume for this though, that Hiashi approves of you completely.

Hiashi made a comment, rather he meant it badly or not, Neji will take it the wrong way. Realize he jumped too far.

You’ll have to tell him you find it cute, and rather his uncle approves of you two or not, you’ll be his wife someday :)

Rock Lee

It COULD be an honest mistake.

But let’s be honest,

It’s Lee.

He calls you his wife to your face, to other people, hell, he’d shout it from the roof tops.

So it’s not an accident. He meant it. He will one day make you his wife, so why would he not call you his wife now!

If you have any reserves about being called his wife before actual marriage, he will pout and be upset. He won’t understand.

But, once that’s over, he’s crying and begging for forgiveness.

Please tell him it’s cute that he wants to marry you, even if you do want to have a talk with him about not assuming roles you don’t officially have.

Gaara

HE CALLED YOU HIS WIFE IN FRONT OF A CROWD. so now he’s blushing.

He might correct his mistake, might not. Depends.

He’s a confident speaker, but that threw him off a little bit.

Likely you were a strong shinobi or something and he was trying to give you credit where it’s due, but it didn’t go as planned.

When you too are alone later, you’ll bring it up likely.

If you tell him you thought it was cute or sweet, he’ll turn bright red like his hair.

He likely won’t go on calling you his wife or anything. Maybe in private.

But he’s not ashamed of it. After all, he’s strongly considering marriage.

Kankuro

Called you his wife to his siblings while you were over for dinner.

Temari is not letting him live it down.

“Hey, I think your wife is trying to get your attention.” “I don’t know, maybe ask your wife?” “What about your wife?” From then on out.

He’s frustrated because it was a mistake, BUTTTT honestly, eventually he’ll make some snarky comment about how at least he’s closer to marriage than she is. Then he probably harps on Shikamaru a little bit in defense for his own comment.

(He approves of Shikamaru tho, if he’s being real. He just thinks it’s a little funny)

As long as this is before a certain point.

He decides to call you his wife to your face.

He’ll call you that to tease you now.

[stick2vamp]

.. sebatsian meets an old friend again (reader) after he was put in prison and taken by urbanshade… reader was sent to the blacksite by urbanshade but they don’t recognize sebastian (i’m in need of angst)

𝜗 ˖ ❝ why can't we laugh now, like we did then? ᵕ ♡

— in which time has flown by: you look the same, yet he looks so different. ✧

↷　 sfw 𓈒 decided to lump these two asks together cause they're similar 𓈒 angst 𓈒 sebastian backstory spoilers 𓈒 lowkey (highkey) rushed

12 years.

It's been 12 years since they took him away for good.

12 years since he died.

You knew he couldn't have done it: sure, SEBASTIAN has a bit of a smart tongue, but he would never actually harm another person. Let alone kill 9 others. Yet, the charged him for it. Yet, they sentenced him to death row. Yet, they electrocuted him to death.

And only 2 years after they killed him, did they finally realize he wasn't the murderer. 2 years after they took him from you, did they finally realize they made a mistake.

How old would he have been now? 32? No, 31: his birthday hasn't passed yet. Speaking of his birthday, you should probably celebrate for him soon.

But it's hard to celebrate when you ended up in prison yourself.

Same as your late friend, you had been falsely accused. Same as your late friend, you had been sentenced to death row. Same as your late friend, you were going to die.

You wondered: would they put you on the same chair he once sat on?

You would never find out.

A company—Urbanshade, as they called themselves—showed up within your final days. They offered a way out, a chance to live, a chance to redeem. Of course, given the awards, it was nothing short of sketchy. It would be a big risk.

You signed up, along with many others.

It didn't matter anyway. Worst case scenario, you would die either way. You had to try and live for Sebastian. To make it to his birthday, and celebrate it for him.

Suited up in diving gear, a collar-like mechanism attached to your neck, you were ready to go.

You passed door 31.

While you were expecting the dangers that came with a mission like this, you weren't expecting them to be.. well, this.

Entities whose entire body was simply a face rushed up and down the halls, mangling everything in their path. Their razor, jagged teeth could easily tear your human flesh to shreds. Shrouded squid-like entities that scream as you shine your light at them or stand too close. A deformed bull shark with its thousands of eyes pulling you, ushering you to look at it. All entities that didn't make sense, yet still existed before your very eyes—and ears.

Door after door, you awaited a threat to show up. Would the lights flicker? Would they already be off? Would a giant window be looking into the whole room?

None of those.

Instead, a vent flew open,

—and for once, you heard a humanoid voice.

The thing—person, you reminded yourself—in the vent was not human, though. His voice did not belong to... his appearance.

His skin was a grey-blue color, matching the color of a fish more than a human. He had hair, though, and front-facing eyes. Predators eyes always faced forward, didn't they?

The.. being looked up from his tail, glowing cyan eyes scanning over your figure. He suddenly fell silent, loosing whatever words were on his tongue—well, if he had a tongue.

A look of recognition flashed in his eyes as if he had found something familiar within you. Admittedly, you found his voice fairly familiar yourself.

His tail lowered, no longer flaunting the items on display.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"[Reader]?" His name escaped his mouth (which, you now realized he did in fact have a tongue) as an almost hushed whisper. He hesitated, his mouth staying open for a few seconds more as if about to say something else before it slowly closed. He continues to stare, stare and fall silent once more.

The way he said your name was a tone that screamed yearning.

And it pulled at your heartstrings.

The way he said your name as if he had known you for his whole life, made you pause for a second.

He knew you—or, at least thought he did—but you didn't know him.

"I'm sorry," you started, speaking before you could realize just how wrong you were, "But, do we know each other?"

He blinked.

You learned his name was Sebastian—and you figured that was probably why he seemed a bit familiar to you. He reminded you of your friend, of course. Same name, similar voice, snappy tongue.. It's as if you were looking at a reflection of your late friend.

Sebastian let you stay for a bit and buy from him, occasionally making small talk. You were amazed by how low the prices were. Only 30 for one battery? You were sure it'd be something like 75 instead!

As you picked up yet another battery, he spoke to you. "Wise choice to stock up on those. There aren't very many of them down here."

"Really? I've found quite a few," You mumbled as you stuffed it into your pocket, simultaneously taking out some research and placing it on the table.

"Of course you did," Sebastian mused, grumbling slightly. He fiddled with his claws, glancing away from you.

You paused, "What's that supposed to mean?" You casted a narrowed glance over to him.

"Nothing, nothing."

Of course he couldn't expect you to recognize him. Not when they had turned him into a monster. Mutated him until nothing but his voice was slightly recognizable. Even then, years of smoking and being stuck here made his voice more gravelly than it used to be.

Sebastian knew this, but it still stung when you looked away from him without any indication you knew who he was.

Nothing was left between the two of you anymore.

But his heart, bruised and bleeding, still wished for you.

Maybe that's why he gave discounts to you. Maybe that's why he contained his snappy tongue for once. Maybe that's why he casted you an almost desperate look when you told me you were going.

And maybe that's why he wished he reached out for you—but he didn't. He let you crawl back through that went. Sebastian let you leave him just as he left you.

So when you met him again, in the dimly dark room where he slid you a file,

—maybe that's why he vowed to make sure you make it to celebrate his birthday with him.

[kiyinian]

Getting closer to the lieutenant

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

Simon has never been one to believe in fate, much less would he believe it if someone told him that he would be head over heels for someone, he would say it was a lie. But that had to change when he met you, at that very moment, the fate of the two of you was intertwined.

He met you for the first time when you joined the base, a simple rookie recruit who would be trained by Simon. No big deal, just another part of his job. Little did he know that within a few months, you'd have him wrapped around your little finger.

It all started in training, the way you obeyed his every command, without hesitation or anything like that, hell, even when you didn't understand what you were supposed to do properly, he couldn't get angry with you.

If it had been any other soldier, he would have yelled or complained, but when you looked at him with those little eyes of yours, your eyelids fluttering as you focused on his every word.

"Hold the gun more firmly." Simon murmurs, in the same thick, husky voice as always.

You nodded hesitantly, aiming at the target, you concentrated, knowing that Simon was looking at you. You focused, concentrating on the target and trying to hit it - you narrowly missed.

If it had been any other soldier, Simon would have been rude, too strict. But with you, he couldn't get angry, watching you poke your cheek, your lips pressing together in a thin line.

It was impossible to get stressed with you.

He stopped frowning, took a few steps closer to you, positioning himself behind you, keeping a respectful distance.

"Relax, keep your elbows here." He says, holding your elbows underneath, straightening your posture.

He had never, ever, done this with any other recruit, but something about you made him do it.

After a few attempts, you managed to hit several shots on target, in sequence, and this drew a few murmurs from him. Apparently he was complimenting you, in his own way.

Maybe he was being too gentle with you, maybe he really should be stricter, but he couldn't make himself do it. He was probably treating you too well to be just a recruit.

In the corner he could see Johnny smiling, the bastard knew Simon perfectly well. Something was brewing there.

It definitely was.

Little by little you got closer, and it became more and more obvious that your relationship wasn't just one of superior and subordinate. He couldn't deny the concern and closeness he had for you, it was just unconscious.

He was always giving you tips on how to take better care of yourself, teaching you defense techniques, giving you clear and precise instructions so that you would follow them to the letter, all for your protection.

On missions, he was always on the communication device with you, asking every now and then if you were all right, always keeping in touch. You often didn't speak to each other, but just the fact that he could hear you breathing, or even giggling at something he said, was enough for him.

And that became even clearer during your last mission. Because of a mistake by one of the soldiers, things went wrong and you had to separate.

Simon despaired, he thought he would never see you again, or that you had been taken by the enemy, or something worse. He felt as if he had stopped breathing, and he only thought straight again when he heard your faint voice on the communication device.

"Sir...?" You mumble, and Simon almost falls to his knees and thanks whatever God kept you safe.

"Where are you? Hurt?" He asks in a hurried way, ready to come at you anyway.

"Just scratches, sir. I'm down south, in the abandoned blue house." You explain hurriedly, hoping he'll understand.

"I'm coming." Simon didn't wait for your answer, he knew where you were, and he wouldn't stop until he saw you again.

Once he found you, he held back every urge he had to hug you, to keep you safe in his arms. At that moment, he realized how much he had grown fond of you. The fear he felt at the thought of losing you. You'd taken up space in his heart. You'd done so much.

That day he realized that you were much more than a teammate, you were much more than he wanted to admit.

Even after promising himself that he would never fall in love again, he found himself breaking that promise in a conversation with you.

It was meeting day, you were sitting next to Simon, Gaz and Johnny were in the corner smoking a cigarette. You were waiting for Price, and then you started playing with a hair tie.

Simon looked at you, taking a sip of coffee, he even had an intrigued expression for you.

You then wrapped the elastic around your ring finger, admiring it.

"I think I'd look nice with a ring." You say, looking at Simon with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows, his lips threatening to form into a smirk.

"You want someone to put a ring on you?" Simon says with a certain amusement, looking at your finger.

"Ah, maybe so..." You say, starting to whisper, "I don't know, I think Riley would be a great surname."

That's it, you left him speechless, all giddy over a simple sentence. He was nervous to speak.

"Don't you agree?" You teased once more, giving a silly little smile.

He grunted, pulling down his mask, hiding the blush that appeared on his cheeks, as well as the grin.

At that moment, he knew it was you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hitman // Accident

Imagine you wake up tied to a chair ducktape over your mouth and the weight of gravity weighing on your chest. Finally gaining your bearings you realize you are haphazardly hanging from a rickety-looking bridge above a raging river by a man in a black compression shirt a bored look on his face and a phone to his ear. You don’t try to struggle only watching wide-eyed as you hope this Hitman doesn’t drop you 

“Really…the wrong one? Fine, I’ll figure it out.”

Breathing is so much easier when he pulls you from the edge with one hand by the way. He doesn’t untie you sighing exasperatedly while running a hand through his hair. Finally, he takes the ducktape off your mouth waving off your barrage of questions. 

“Look things happened and I was supposed to kill someone who looks a lot like you but not.”

“So you're a hitman and you made a mistake?”

“Yup.”

“Are you going to kill me for knowing you then?”

“I don’t have to.”

“Then can I go home?”

“Er no.”

“Because I’m going to talk?”

“No more like you wouldn’t be able to get into the country anyway.”

Turns out the hitman who happened to target you was incredibly too thorough and ended up burning your ID, crafting up a reasonable missing persons case for you, and making it hard for you to do anything in the country that you can’t properly even find on a map. So to combat the absolute mess of having to go through all the legalese and interrogation you’d go through to get back to your life he comes up with his solution.

“How about you just stay with me? I’ve got more than enough room.”

And he does. It's a place that’s like a small castle, he reasons it’s best that you just help clean the place and maybe make a meal or two. You accept not that you had any other choice at this point so he’ll untie you and take you there. Wherever this backwater country is he’s got a home filled with villagers who are happy to care for it. And in a language you don’t recognize they celebrate it when he brings you home, cheering and excitedly holding your hands. He can’t help but laugh at you while you try to figure things out.

“Hey! What was she saying before?”

“You really shouldn’t just blindly nod to what people are saying. That’s what gets you in trouble.”

“What else am I supposed to do?! She was smiling so wide it must’ve been something nice, right?”

“Hahaha, you're hopelessly adorable.”

When this Hitman is not sitting around laughing at you or mistranslating your requests, he’s not so bad. As the only one who understands what you’re saying and can actually respond to you in a rewarding way. Dismissing that he ruined your everyday life, he’s decent company usually smirking to himself while he makes fun of whatever you're doing. 

“That hat is way too big for you and so are your clothes. It’s kinda cute.”

“It’s not cute! For whatever reason nobody will give me anything other than your clothes it’s really inconvenient.”

“How do you know they're mine?”

“Because they smell like–”

“Awwww are you smelling me in your free time (Y/n)?”

“NO! Wait it’s just an observation—”

“Ewww so perverted (Y/n)~”

When he’s not around to mess with you, he’s off to work. Wearing those same tight-fitted pants he did when you first woke up. It’s…a little sad sometimes. He is the only one you can easily communicate with but you manage to enjoy the thousands of books he has in his home, hang out with the kittens of the farm, and slowly but surely get a grasp on the language all the villagers speak. Maybe one day you can surprise him by being able to call him out the next time he tries to humiliate you to the villagers. It certainly keeps you occupied from thinking about going home anytime soon.

“That’s another body in the ground. Where’s my money?”

The hitman once again casually dismembers another target for his client, taking a quick picture before hurrying to the store. You did say you were a fan of a certain gaming system, he’s got more than enough to spend now that he’s completed another job. Not that he really needed to that amount he had could very well pay for the entire lives of generations to come. That is if he hasn’t budgeted for a luxurious life with you.

“Mmm, which one should I get? Hmm?”

“Oh, are you interested in some of our AAA titles?”

“Not for me but for my partner….I’m just worried they’ll leave me and our kids out while playing.”

“Well if you like we have some lighthearted multiplayer games.”

“That’s perfect!”

He does plan as though you already have kids. He doesn’t need to know if you two will conceive with him or adopt but it doesn’t matter it’s happening. Because to him, you two are already bound to be happily married—all according to his plan. He’s just glad it’s going off so far without a hitch.

“Hi I’m back!”

“Welcome welcome hope everything went well for you chief!”

“How are their studies coming?”

“Decent but they’ll never fully be able to grasp the codes, just as you planned.”

“Perfect. (Y/n) they’re saying you should be the one to massage me this time.”

“What?! There is no way they said that.”

Your hitman’s greatest power is his nonchalant attitude. It’s what allows you to accept that it was his carelessness that led to you being targeted in the first place. It’s what have you not looking twice when ‘the villager’ demands you both feed each other. It might take a while before you fully become the you–he envisioned in his plans but he can wait.

After all your hitman’s waited this long. He doesn’t mind waiting a little more.

“Don’t think too much and let’s just let fate that I’ve chosen decide.”

[stop-talking]

Happy Accident

a little NSFW Mike Schmidt imagine :3

MDNI 18+

This was just going to be a blurb, but I'm losing my mind over the thought of a touch starved, depraved, horny, & slightly perverted Mike Schmidt... so enjoy 2.4k words of filth <3

(gender neutral! reader ❤️)

*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°

• You'd been babysitting Abby for a while, but when Mike got that new night shift job... well, you weren't sure it was going to mesh with your schedule. Still, he needed you. And how could you say no to those big brown eyes?

• So, you started spending your weeknights at the Schmidt house. Mike would get home right as it was time for you to leave for school/work, so you had to get ready at his house, too.

• That meant bringing a change of clothes, usually thrown carelessly into an old blue duffle you used as an overnight bag.

• Coincidentally, Mike's work bag was strikingly similar to your own. If it wasn't just a tad bit dirtier, well... it might be easy to get them mixed up.

• Or... maybe the slight physical differences don't matter when you're both running on hopes, prayers, and caffeine. Hey, it's not easy adjusting to a new schedule. Especially one that requires Mike to leave when he should be going to bed.

• It only took a few days for him to slip up. You were running late that night, and while he couldn't blame you (you get what you pay for, and he hadn't paid you at all) he also didn't have time to stop and chat like normal.

• Instead, he hiked (what he thought was) his bag up on his shoulder, gave you a curt goodbye, and left for another shift at Freddy's.

• At first, everything was normal. He did a quick lap around the building, tried to ignore the creepy shuffling noises coming from shadowy corners, and checked the monitors once or twice before settling down into his chair for the night.

• Mike reached into his bag for his prescription, medicine to help him sleep. Or... perhaps a snack. Maybe even a hoodie he could bunch up on the desk and use as a pillow. Something like that. What his hand actually came back up with made his mind go blank, and he immediately forgot what he'd wanted in the first place.

• In his hand, he held... underwear. And not his own. Definitely not his own. Mike froze, heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what he was holding.

• You. You'd starting bringing a change of clothes for babysitting now, hadn't you? In a... a bag that looked nearly identical to his own. Oh. Oh no.

• Mike dropped the article of clothing, face flushing a deep crimson. Then, feeling guilty at leaving your clothing on the grungy pizzeria floor, he quickly tossed it back in the duffle bag and zipped it up.

• He kicked the whole thing under the desk, trying to hide the evidence further. Who from? He had no idea. Mike felt extra grateful today to be in the one room in the whole building without a security cam.

• Yeah. That's right. No one had to know about this. That he'd... well, it was an accident anyway. How could he have known it wasn't his bag?

• Taking a deep breath, he started to come up with a plan. He'd say he realized it wasn't his bag, but only after getting to work. Once he'd noticed it was yours, he left it in the car and didn't touch it. There. That would work.

• Relieved, Mike lay his head down on the desk to try and get some sleep.

• Unfortunately, sleep never came. He still felt bad about taking your bag, even if it was an accident. What would you wear to work? You always left right as he came home, even if he brought your bag back after his shift you'd still end up leaving late.

• It also didn't help that Mike didn't have his sleeping pills. Or his cassette tape with "sounds of Nebraska" recorded on it. All he had was a stupid Nebraska poster, and a bag that wasn't his. Mike tried staring at the poster, but without the accompanying music and medicine, it did nothing but annoy him.

• Stupid trees. Stupid Nebraska. Stupid job. Stupid Mike. How could he make such a dumb mistake? Surely you'd be angry with him. He hadn't paid you in weeks, and then he goes and makes things even harder for you?

• With his stomach in knots and his mind and heart still racing, Mike resigned himself to not sleeping tonight. Instead, he pushed himself up from the desk and started to pace around the abandoned pizzeria.

• Part of him just needed to relieve some nervous energy, and the other part needed a distraction. From the guilt he felt, yes, but also from that goddamn bag of yours.

• Well, not the bag so much as your clothes. The... intimate ones. Mike slapped his palm to his forehead, trying to physically force out the disgraceful thoughts plaguing his mind. You weren't interested in him like that. This was so fucked up. He was so fucked up.

• A few more slaps to his forehead later, Mike halted in his pacing around the dining room. It had suddenly occurred to him that if anyone did happen to be watching, he'd look pretty silly smacking himself and muttering under his breath like he was.

• Mike turned and eyed the nearest security cam with suspicion, until a soft scraping noise drew his attention on stage. Had Bonnie always been looking this direction?

• Feeling the same level of nervousness and guilt, now accompanied by fear and paranoia, Mike retreated back to the safety of his office. There, he faced the same problems as before, a spike of excitement running through him as his foot brushed your bag under the desk. Maybe he'd take a quick peek at your things?

• No. He couldn't. He shouldn't. It wouldn't be right.

• Still... what else could he do tonight? Mike glanced at the digital clock on the edge of his desk, the flashing red numbers seeming to taunt him as he realized he still had five more hours left in his shift.

• Fuck. With a grunt, he slammed his head down on the desk and covered it with his arms. Just because he couldn't sleep through work tonight didn't mean he had to do his job. No, Mike had decided the very first night that he wasn't paid enough for this bullshit. So he simply worked as little as possible.

• He wasn't going to watch the monitors. And he certainty wasn't going to think about you. Nope. He was simply going to sit here and do nothing. Think about nothing.

Think about nothing.

Think about nothing.

Think about nothing.

• His strategy seemed to work for all of two minutes, repeating the same phrase in his head over and over until he couldn't stand it any longer. Images of you kept popping into his mind. Your smile, your eyes, and that sweet expression of pure warmth you gave him whenever he came home from work. Like you were genuinely happy to see him.

• Nobody else had ever treated him as well as you did. That's why he had to keep these feelings buried, stomp the embers into ash and blow those ashes into the wind. He couldn't afford to lose you.

• Still, Mike couldn't help but wonder. What if the feeling was mutual? Something in his chest stirred, and suddenly all he could imagine was seeing that warm smile of yours underneath him in bed. Would you still be able to run that cute mouth if he pinned you down to the mattress, legs thrown over his shoulders? Or would you find a way to tease him, like usual?

• Shit. Was it getting hot in here? Mike sat up to remove his jacket, then stupidly started for the duffel back to put it away. Right. Not his.

• Mike closed his eyes and suddenly, the piece of clothing in his hand wasn't his at all, but yours. Your underwear. Mike was considering removing his jeans too, as they were rapidly becoming too tight.

• Breathe, Schmidt. Mike took a few deep breaths, but nothing was helping. His blood grew hotter, his pants tighter, and his mind more muddled.

• This was usually the point where Mike would pop on his headphones, listen to the familiar sounds of his tape recorder, stare at a poster, and think "Nebraska" thoughts.

• Unfortunately, without his equipment... this wasn't going to work. He couldn't make it through another ten minutes without some kind of relief, much less an entire shift. Mike dropped the jacket and his hands went to his belt, undoing his pants and immediately dropping those to the floor as well.

• Yeah... maybe a little "stress relief" was all he needed. A distraction. Something to take his mind off you.

• Mike couldn't help but let out a chuckle at that thought. Take his mind off you? As he was palming his hardening cock through his boxers? As if.

• If anything, this would only make him crave you more. But, as he freed himself from the (slightly sticky...) confines of his underwear, he decided that would be a problem for future Mike. Currently, he just wanted to cum. Preferably in you, but all over himself while thinking about you would have to do for now.

• He tried to start slow, he really did. But in a matter of minutes, he was fucking fervently into his hand, hips bucking up off the chair slightly. He kicked off one shoe and wiggled a foot free of his discarded jeans, spreading his legs for stability as he sank back into the seat.

• Precum dribbled down his cock, coating his length and providing some much needed slick. Mike held his breath without realizing it, growing closer to the edge but still not quite there. Damnit.

• After what felt like an eternity of effort, Mike pulled his hand away with a rather pathetic whine. Panting, he scowled down at his still-twitching cock. This was exactly why he didn't often... well, take matters into his own hands.

• It wasn't enough. It wouldn't ever be enough. Not without your warm body wrapped around his. Hand, mouth, anything. Mike would take absolutely anything you were be willing to give. Especially in his current state.

• But he wasn't going to get that, was he? Not now, and probably not ever, if he was honest with himself.

• Mike's heart and cock ached in tandem, frustration bubbling to the surface and drowning out all other thoughts. How could he have been so stupid? Now he'd have to sit here half-naked and even more worked up then when he'd started. Mike bit his lip at the realization that he'd just checked himself into the next circle of hell.

• No, no. He could finish the job. He had to. There was no way he could endure this all shift. Even if he managed, what then? Go home to you and try to muster up an apology while on the verge of creaming his pants? Absolutely not.

• Mike worked his cock again, faster this time. His eyes scanned the room, subconsciously searching for something, anything to help. He was aching. The pressure built and built inside him, his stomach muscles clenching and unclenching in soft ripples as he threatened to spill. It didn't come. He didn't come.

• Finally, his gaze landed on something that made him shudder in excitement. Thinking with his dick and not his brain, he reached for the duffle back under the desk. He just needed a little something to help fuel his imagination. A nudge, that was all. Just a minute. He could return it back to it's spot in your bag after, and you'd never even have to know.

• Shaking, he brought your underwear to his nose with his free hand. The other was gripped tightly around the base of his cock, his mind and senses too overwhelmed by frenzied lust to do anything more than inhale deeply.

• Fuuuuck. It smelled like you. Well, that much was obvious, but never in his wildest wet dreams had he expected you to smell so completely delicious. His mouth watered almost as much as his poor weeping cock as he gave it a few languid strokes.

• In this moment, he wanted nothing more than to put his face between your legs and feast. Lick and suck and fuck you with his tongue, swallowing every drop of your cum until you had nothing more to give.

• His tongue peeked out to lick at the cotton-y fabric of your underwear, imagining the damp spot was from your arousal and not his own mouth. That small taste of you is what finally sent him hurdling over the edge, inhaling sharply and getting one last whiff of your scent before frantically cumming into the closest piece of cloth... your underwear.

• Rope after rope of pearly white release soaked the fabric, again and again until he'd emptied his balls... and then some. Mike fucked into his hand until it hurt.

• When he eventually re-gained enough of his mental capacities to realize his mistake, he let out a groan. Gingerly, he peeled the sticky fabric from his softening cock, whining at how his sensitive damp skin was now exposed to the cool air.

• As he peered at the ruined garment in front of him, Mike came to the conclusion that his situation was not salvageable. He was completely and utterly fucked. In more ways than one.

• He gently tucked himself back into his boxers with a shudder, still reeling in the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. Okay, step one, get dressed. Step two, skip town and never look back. No way in hell he could face you after this, even if he could miraculously get the cum-stains from your clothing.

• But... he had to, didn't he? He couldn't abandon Abby. Or his home. Or you, even, as much as he wanted to crawl into a hole and die right now.

• So, Mike spent the rest of his shift using an ancient bathroom sink and hand soap trying to scrub the evidence away. Maybe... maybe he could salvage this after all.

Or maybe when he looked at you from now on, he'd only be able to see a sick, twisted fantasy, and the shameful result of his indulgence.

Probably the 2nd one. oh well.

*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°*°♡°

Author's note:

Hi!! Hi!! Hi hi hi hi hi!!! 😁 I'm so happy to finally be able to post something again!! 🥰

It's been almost a year now since I posted a fic, I hope this was a decent comeback!! This one's dedicated to all you peeps who love this pathetic, tired little man as much as I do <3 (Also, I've made a side-blog where I will be reposting all my fics. If you're only here for fanfic and not my shitposting, I completely understand! Or if you just want to follow me on both but only turn on notifications for fanfic, that works too! The account is @stop-talking-vtwo )

[i-love-ptv]

High By the Beach

Felix Catton x reader

Smut <3

An: AHHH SECOND FIC BBS!! ENJOY! Also, if I was Oliver, the drain wouldn’t be the only thing i’m sucking on…

(ik Felix smokes cigs but i feel like he’ll get high every once n a while :3)

Felix loves to get high. But he loves fucking you even more. Adding the two together makes him feel like he just might have made it to heaven early.

The sight of you, his angel, wrapping your pouty, bitten lips around a blunt makes his cock twitch inside of you. Although, he makes a mental note of not biting your lips as hard. He couldn’t be rough with his sweet baby. After all, he is a gentle, and passionate lover. For now, anyways.

He always became so soft when high; wanting nothing more than to please you, and show you how much he loves you.

His strokes are sloppy, as he messily pumps in and out of you. Even so, you can still feel and see the passion and love he has for you.

Neither of you ever pay attention to how long the both of you remain intertwined. The two of you could go for hours and not think twice about it, but there are zero complaints from either side.

But sometimes, after he’s had one too many puffs, his mind gets hazy. That’s a given of course, but this makes him zone out. Makes him forget where exactly he is. Leading to him accidentally sliding out of your soaked cunt.

He comes down from the clouds in his head and realizes his mistake.

“s-shit. oh m’so sorry lovie, s’alright..lemme make it all better baby.” He slurs out in a whisper.

Nothing makes him happier than when he blows the smoke into your face, watching your eyes droop as you inhale softly.

The noises that can be heard in the room are his soft, needy groans; the slight bang of the headboard bumping against the wall, his big, heavy balls slapping against your skin. And most importantly, the sound of your high-pitch moans.

That’s his favorite noise in the whole world. It sounds like a heavenly gospel to him—the sweet melody of his angel. He swears it’s the best song he’s ever heard.

“tha’s right m’sweet angel, sing t’me.”

He doesn’t care who hears, in fact, that’s the last thing on his mind. All he can think about is how he’s pressing on your tummy as your pussy clenches around him. How your whines and cries become more rapid and abrupt, how your back arches while he continues to press you down into the mattress.

“c’mon baby, do it f’me. I know y’can”

His eyes shine as you cum around his cock; your pussy sucking him in. His brows furrow as he feels your delicious cum start to drip onto his cock. He looks down and watches the smoke crowd the bed as the base of his dick and his balls turns milky white from your drenched cunt. His thrusts slowly come to an end.

“ohhhh m’sweet angel, y’did soo good f’me.” He coos as he lays on top of you.

As you go to ask him about what he wants to do when it comes to him finishing, you hear soft snores exit his body.

You finish off the blunt and eventually drift off to sleep, the thought of Felix leaving himself unfinished roaming through your mind.

Felix didn’t think about coming, his goal was to give you the pleasure that you need; the pleasure that you deserve.

After all, he is a passionate lover.

[krirebr]

More Than This 8

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~9.5k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and en dashes, the slooowest burn, family drama - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Ohhhhhhhh boy. Getting this update in right under the six month wire. I'm so sorry this one took so long, you guys. I had to drag this chapter out of me. But uh, it's horrifically long, so that's something?

And, I know I keep saying that we're about to start a happier part of this story and then deliver a bucketful of angst, and yeah, whoops, I've done that again. I should just stop making promises, huh?

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has spent the last almost six months talking this one through with me. And to @bigtreefest who was so great with the encouragement and gut checks and did a quick beta of this chapter! But, of course, all mistakes are my own.

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

The rest of the day was quiet. Calmer, more settled than you were used to. After having gotten everything out into the open, it was so much easier to acknowledge Ransom’s presence, to coexist with him. You hadn’t fully realized how much you’d been holding your breath until you could suddenly breathe freely. It was a wild feeling.

Once you were all cried out, Ransom turned on the TV, turning it to the classic movie channel. That was how you learned he loved old movies. “Grandad and I used to watch them together. When I was a kid,” he said quietly. He didn't volunteer any other information and you didn't ask. But you watched the old noir with him.

One movie turned into two and soon the whole afternoon was gone. It had been… comfortable, in a way you’d never expected to be with him. Neither of you had said much, but the silence hadn’t been stifling in the way it’d been even just the day before. For the first time since you’d gotten here, you felt something a lot like hope.

He made two arrangements while sitting with you on the couch. The first was for movers to come to collect his gym equipment the next day so that your new room would be empty when your things arrived in a couple of days. 

You were made aware of the second when you received a text from him. You looked up in confusion. You were sitting right next to each other. He chuckled lightly. “That’s the number to your new car service. Call it, let them know where you’re going, and a car should be here within half an hour.”

You stared at the number. Holy shit, you’d be able to go places. You felt silly for how emotional you suddenly felt, but it was like your entire world was expanding in real time. It felt like fresh oxygen in your lungs. “Thank you,” you said quietly.

He just nodded in response. “After you’ve used that for a while, we can talk about whether a private driver might be more appropriate. If that’s what you need.”

You looked at your phone again. This was proof in your hands that you could tell Ransom what you needed and he would do what he could to help you get it. That he wasn’t the enemy you’d assumed he was. You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes and you took a deep breath to try to quell them without calling attention to your state.

Ransom, of course, noticed anyway. “Is that not ok?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect. Seriously, thank you. I’m sorry, I just–” You had no idea what to say to him, how to explain yourself. As good and necessary as the last several hours had been, he was still a stranger. And as much as he’d demonstrated a willingness to help you, that didn’t mean he wanted you getting your messy emotions all over him. “Sorry,” you said again, “I’m just emotional today. Hormones probably. I’m afraid you’re going to be dealing with this for the next nine months.” You grimaced in what you hoped was a playful manner as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.

He remained serious, concerned. “I think I can handle it,” he said, his tone still so soft. But if you looked very carefully, you thought that you might be able to see a hint of panic in his eyes. You didn’t know if it was for the havoc that your pregnancy hormones might wreak or everything that would come after. You didn’t ask. You knew you wouldn’t be able to answer the question for yourself either. So you turned back to the movie.  

At some point, you both started to get hungry, so Ransom ordered takeout. As you ate, you asked a few questions about the sorts of movies he liked, grateful for a safe topic to fill the silence. You certainly wouldn’t call him verbose, but you learned that he had a soft spot for Billy Wilder movies. You wouldn’t really say the conversation flowed, either, but your questions didn’t seem unwelcome. It was nice. He was starting to feel like a real person.

When you were done, you cleaned up the leftovers together, packing them up and putting them away in the fridge. It was while you were doing that that the doorbell suddenly rang. You both looked up, confused. “If that’s fucking Linda, I swear…” Ransom grumbled.

“She never rings the doorbell when it’s just me here,” you griped. You continued putting things away, sticking your head in the fridge as Ransom went to get the door. Then everything happened so fast.

First, you heard Lola yipping excitedly. As you started to turn around to see what was going on with her, Ransom asked “What are you doing here?!” And then–

And then Ransom was on the ground, clutching his jaw, and Steve was looming over him, his hand still in a fist.

“What the shit?!” Ransom ground out.

Steve’s eyes flitted around wildly until they landed on you. He sighed in relief, clearly doing a quick check as he looked at you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone so much gentler than his posture.

“Am I– What– What are you doing here? I don't–” You felt like you couldn’t process anything that was happening. How was he here?? Your gaze caught on your husband, still on the floor. “Oh my god, Ransom!” You dropped to your knees next to him. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I–” he started, then carefully flexed his jaw, “Fucking shit. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Your hand hovered uselessly between you as he slowly stood up. You turned back to Steve, who had stepped fully into the house, closing the door behind him, and now had Lola in his arms, softly greeting her as she snuggled into him adoringly.

“Steve, what are you–” you started but then you saw the suitcase at his feet. “Are you staying here?!”

Steve finally turned his attention away from Lola. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously, with a challenging glare to Ransom. 

You sighed helplessly. “There’s no guest room…”

“Yeah,” Ransom grumbled as he rifled through the freezer until he pulled out an icepack, “as thrilled as we are to see you, we do have hotels here. You might be more comfortable in one.” The icy coldness that filled the room wasn’t just from the open freezer. 

Steve took an aggressive step forward. “And leave you alone with my sister for even one more day? I don’t think so. I’ll be just fine on the couch. I’m easy like that.”

“Steve–” you tried but you were quickly interrupted.

“Really? You’re here for your step-sister? That’s interesting because my understanding is that you haven’t had much time for her lately,” Ransom said snidely.

Steve started to puff up in a way that was much too familiar from the playground fights of your childhood. “Oh my god!” you yelled. “Stop! Both of you!” You briefly put your head in your hands and took a deep breath, then one more. You straightened yourself and tried to deal with one of the fifteen problems at hand. “Ok, I, uh, I guess I’ll see about making up the couch,” you said, then stomped your way upstairs to the linen closet.

Steve followed close behind you, still carrying around Lola. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “you haven’t actually said ‘hello’ to me yet.”

“No,” you growled, as you looked through the closet without turning around to look at him, “I guess I haven’t.”

He pulled your arm lightly. “Hey, come on,” he said. “I’ll help pull this stuff together if you tell me where to look. We both know Ransom’s just gonna let you do all the work.”

That earned you finally turning to face him. “Well, he did just get punched in the face, so I think he’s a little more concerned with that than making you feel comfortable right now.”

Steve’s face scrunched up. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Am I mad at you? Well, let's see. You showed up unannounced and punched my husband in the face. Yeah! I'm a little mad at you!”

“He deserved it,” he growled. 

“How would you know?!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You sighed. You did not have the energy for this. And where were all the blankets? You remembered the pile currently in the corner of the gym. Right. You turned around and walked down the hall to your makeshift bedroom, Steve still on your heels. As soon as you walked in, he stopped, putting Lola down. “The fuck is this?” he asked, harshly, his hands on his hips. You realized your mistake immediately. His eyes scanned the cushions and blankets set up, the exercise equipment still there, your few possessions strewn about. “Is this where you sleep?”

“No! Just last night.”

“Why did you need to sleep here last night?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.

It felt like a trap. If you told him you’d panicked and needed some space, he would ask why. Steve never dropped anything. And you just could not tell him you were pregnant right now. It was the absolute worst time for that. But you didn’t know how else to answer his question. “I just needed a little space.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. God, you hated being the focus of that look. It was the look he gave you when you scratched his car when you were 16, or when you were 18 and he had to pick you up from a party at 2 AM and wouldn’t tell him what had happened. It was the look you got when you were little and used to steal his paintbrushes so he couldn’t paint and he’d have to hang out with you. You’d hated that look since you were six years old. “Why are you here, Steve?”

He just shook his head for a moment. “You sounded so sad and tired this morning. And I’m just so sick of not being able to see you, not being able to tell what’s wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Not being able to protect you.”

“Steve,” was all you could say at first. Then you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You launched yourself at him and wrapped him in a big hug. He was a fucking idiot. You couldn’t believe he’d punched Ransom. You were so mad about that. But he was your fucking brother and you’d missed him so much.

He hugged you back tightly. “It’s so fucking good to see you, Chipmunk,” he murmured into your hair. 

You stood there, savoring the closeness for as long as you both were able, and then you pulled away and stared down at the mound of blankets and cushions. The big couch downstairs had been pulled apart the night before to give you a place to sleep. That severely limited the options for Steve. You sighed. “I guess it would make the most sense to put you in here.”

“And where would you sleep?” he asked, his tone taking on an aggressive edge, aimed at the man downstairs, you knew.

“I’d go back to the bedroom,” you said, with a put-on casualness like you weren’t aware of the fight that was about to happen.

“Absolutely not,” Steve said firmly.

“Oh my god, Steve! You can’t control where I sleep!” you said, throwing your hands in the air.

“The whole reason I’m here is to make sure you’re ok and that he can’t hurt you! I’m not gonna do something that puts you back in his space!”

“Steve, I don’t need that! He isn’t doing anything!”

“Then why did you text me? Why were you crying?!”

You did not have the energy for the conversation that would answer that question, so all you could do was glare at him, which he answered with a confrontational jut of his chin. The two of you just stood there locked in a staredown until Steve muttered, “What sort of grown man doesn’t have anywhere for guests, anyway?”

“The sort that likes an excuse to stop people from staying at his house,” Ransom said pointedly from the doorway, startling you both. “What exactly do you think I’d do, with you right across the hall? I’ve already gotten a taste of how you solve problems,” he said to Steve, gesturing with the ice pack still held to his face. Then, much softer, to you, he said, “I know you want your own space, but you’re more than welcome to share the bed until your stuff gets here. That’s all I wanted to say.” Then he turned around and walked into his bedroom, Lola scampering behind him, ready for bed.

You stared after him, unable to parse the feelings bubbling up inside you. He’d been so different lately. Or maybe you were just finally looking.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve asking “Your stuff?”

You turned your attention back to him. He was watching you too carefully. “Mhmm,” you hummed, trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here. I’m turning this into my room.” He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask too many questions probably so you cut him off. “It’s been a really long couple of days, Steve. I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

He set his jaw. You could tell he wanted to fight you. Force you to talk to him. But you held your ground, looked him in the eye with a hint of challenge, and eventually he deflated, just a bit. “Yeah, okay,” he relented before he pulled you into another crushing hug. You’d really missed his hugs.

“I am happy to see you,” you whispered.

“Me too, Chip,” he whispered right back. 

After making sure he had everything he needed, you left Steve alone with a quiet “goodnight,” and made your way back to Ransom’s bedroom. He and Lola were already snuggled in bed, snoring softly. You quickly went through your bedtime routine and then joined them, very careful not to wake either of them. After how eventful and emotionally wrought the last few days had been, it didn’t take you long at all to drift off into sleep.

You woke up in the morning pressed up against Ransom, face to face, your feet tangled together, Lola on your legs. You carefully pushed yourself away, watching him warily to see if he roused at all. Thankfully he didn't. You were sure he wouldn't be thrilled with how close you'd both gotten in the night. 

You quietly got up and let yourself out of the bedroom, a now wide-awake Lola at your heels. The door to the gym was open and the room was empty, Steve’s suitcase wide open on the floor next to the nest of cushions and blankets. You didn’t hear anyone moving around downstairs, so he was out on a run, most likely.

You headed down to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then started looking through the fridge for the leftovers from the previous morning. As you were doing that, a creak on the stairs let you know Ransom was joining you. 

“Morning,” he said, voice scratchy from disuse. He went to the coffee maker and just stood in front of it, waiting for the pot to finish.

“Morning,” you said from inside the fridge. You found the leftovers and closed the appliance, finally turning to him with a gasp. You put the food down on the counter and went to Ransom. “Oh my god, your face!” A large bruise in a deep shade of purple took up most of the left side of his face, centered on his jaw and cheekbone. You rushed to his side and without thinking, extended a hand to touch him before you realized what you were doing and pulled back at the last minute, embarrassed. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbled, his attention still fixed on the coffee slowly dripping into the carafe. 

You stared at him for another moment, before you just couldn’t keep your feelings inside anymore. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.

He finally looked at you at that. “What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked.

So much, you thought to yourself, maybe, probably. But for right now, in this instance, you just shrugged. “He’s my brother,” you said, a little helplessly. 

“Did you tell him to punch me?” he asked as he decided he’d waited long enough and filled his mug.

“What? No!”

“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.” He leaned back against the counter as he sipped his coffee. “Where is your brother?”

“On a run, probably,” you said, now helping yourself to a mug and fixing it up how you liked.

Ransom scoffed. “Of course, he is.” He looked at you carefully for a long moment and you struggled not to squirm under his gaze. “You happy he’s here?”

“Of course!” you said, too quickly. He kept looking at you. “I mean, I didn’t invite him here, so… It was just a surprise. I don’t know. He’s very protective, you know?” Ransom raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Right, yeah. He just– Sometimes, he just– he decides what’s right. And then there’s no changing his mind.”

He made a little hum, then nodded and said, “Yeah, I know. I have met him before. But why are you worried about that?”

“Uh, he just, he isn’t always a good listener. And he’s gonna have a lot of questions for me today. I know he will. And I don’t know how I’ll answer any of them without telling him about the– that I’m pregnant.”

“And you don’t want to?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly soft.

“No, that’s not exactly– I just–” you sighed. “This isn’t what he ever wanted for me.”

Ransom made a small noise of understanding. “You think he’ll be disappointed in you.”

There was no judgment in his tone, but it still made you shrink in on yourself a little. You nodded.

“Listen, it’s no secret that I think he’s a sanctimonious asshole.” You opened your mouth to start defending Steve, but Ransom shook his head. “Let me finish. It’s clear that he loves you. I think you’ll be ok. And if he does give you shit, well, it’ll be just one of a few things he’s done to earn himself a punch.”

“Oh god, Ransom no, please don’t do that.”

He grinned at you. “Nah, I won’t. Some of us have self-control. I know him being here is important to you. I’ll try not to do anything to mess that up.”

You wondered if the warm feelings spreading through you would always be such a surprise. If he would always be such a surprise.

“But,” he continued before he paused to drain his mug. “I am going to try to get out of here before he gets back.”

“This is your house. You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, “you should have a nice day with your brother.” Then he put his mug in the dishwasher and went back upstairs to get dressed, with you staring after him.

Ransom left and, sure enough, Steve got back a few minutes later. He went straight to the shower and you tried to busy yourself and calm your nerves while you waited for the inevitable conversation.

When he came down, his hair was still wet and he was dressed in jeans and a plain white tee. There was nothing casual about his demeanor though.

“So,” he said, sitting down next to you in the kitchen, “you ready to tell me what’s been going on here?”

You started to get up. “Do you want some breakfast first? We have some pastries left over from yesterday.”

He grabbed your arm and pulled you back down into your chair. “No, I want to know why you've sounded so upset every time I’ve talked to you since the wedding.”

You squirmed under his sharp gaze. You knew him. You knew that he wouldn’t give up until you told him everything. But you also knew how awful his reaction would be and you just weren’t ready to give everything up. “It’s just been a lot of change, you know? Of course, it’s been hard. I’m just… adjusting. It’s been an adjustment period.”

“Adjusting to what, exactly?”

“To marriage! To living in a new place! You know, the obvious.”

“The obvious is why you always sound like you’ve been crying?”

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands in frustration. “You know me,” you tried. “I’m emotional.”

“You’re emotional?! Is that what he says to you?” Shit, he was already getting angry and you hadn’t even told him anything yet.

“No! God, Steve. That’s not what I’m saying! I’m just trying to say that it’s been a difficult transition, but I’m starting to feel better about it.”

“And I’m asking you to tell me exactly what about it has been difficult.” 

You wanted to growl. Once he got an idea in his head, he was so fucking intractable. “What’s been difficult about moving across the country to a brand new city and living with a stranger??”

“Yes. Exactly. In detail please.” And then he just stared at you and you wanted to scream. 

“I’ve been a little lonely,” you conceded, hoping a partial truth might satisfy him. “Ransom has to work a lot and it’s been hard to know what to do with my time.” And then, without giving him time to react, you asked. “How about you? How are you? Now that I’m out of the way, is Joseph trying to set up matches for you?” It was a low blow, but you were grasping for any defense you could reach.

“I don't understand why you won't just tell me what's going on.”

“I'm trying! It's just a lot more complicated than you realize and I think that maybe once you're in an arrangement of your own–”

“My marriage won't be anything like this.”

At first, all you could do was gape at him. Then you just sighed. “I don’t think,” you started slowly, “that you can have any idea what a marriage like this is really like until you’re inside of it, Steve.”

He shook his head. “I know what sort of man I am,” he said confidently. “I know how I’ll treat my wife.” And you saw it then, the pity in his eyes, and everything in you bristled.

Sanctimonious. That was the word Ransom had used. You loved your step-brother so much. You’d defend him to the end of the world and back. But he really could be such an asshole sometimes. And seeing him now, like this, you could understand why someone like Ransom might hate him.

“Well,” you said, trying so hard to keep your voice even, “you’ll be lucky then. To have such an easy go of it. I hope you don’t find that it’s harder than it looks. That appearances can be deceiving.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s why I’m asking you to tell me. I don’t understand why you won’t.”

“Because I know you won’t listen! You’ve already decided what’s going on here!”

“Well, it seems pretty obvious! I know you, and I certainly know him. So yeah, when you’re crying every time I talk to you and you send me cryptic texts wishing I was here, yeah, I think I have a pretty good guess about what’s been going on.”

“You’re so frustrating,” you growled a little. Then you sighed. It was inevitable. You knew it. At this point, you just wanted to get it over with. “Ok. Fine. But you have to actually listen to me, ok? Like, to what I’m actually saying. You can’t just jump to conclusions. Okay? I’m serious.”

“Chip, yes, of course. I’ll always listen to you.”

You took a deep, fortifying breath. “It’s been– It’s been really hard here. I’ve been on my own almost the whole time and it’s just been really lonely. You just– you can’t know what it’s like to be married to a stranger. We haven’t known how to talk to each other and I just– It’s been really hard for both of us.” At that, Steve scoffed, but you couldn’t stop now, you had to get this out. “Anyway, um, a few days ago I learned some news, that was–” You paused to try to find the right word. You had no idea how to classify it. It wasn’t upsetting, per se, but what other word was there? “And then Ransom found out and that’s when I texted you. And slept in the gym.”

“What was the news?” Steve asked, gravely. He was looking at you so intently. You really didn’t want to do this, but you knew you had to.

You looked off into the corner of the room, unable to get this out and meet his eyes at the same time. “I’m pregnant,” you said quietly.

Steve stood up so abruptly that you couldn’t help but jump. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he actually snarled. You’d never heard his voice do that before.

“Steve, please,” you started, both hands out in a placating manner. “Please, can you calm down so we can talk about this?”

But, of course, he ignored you. “Where is he?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, helplessly. “He’s out. I don’t, I don’t know where.”

Steve didn’t say anything, just clenched his jaw and stood rigidly, his hands on his hips. You could practically see the untapped adrenaline coursing through him.

“Can you please just sit down?” you pleaded. “Just take a deep breath and sit down and we can–”

“I’m going for a run,” he said, curtly, then turned on his heel and walked towards the door.

“But you just got back from one!” you called after him. He wasn’t even dressed for a run. But that apparently didn’t matter. He was gone.

You just sat there for a moment, completely lost, with no idea what to do. Then you got your phone out and texted Ransom.

He knows

Don’t come back for a few hours, I think. He needs time to calm down. I’m sorry.

The checkmark showing he’d seen your message appeared almost immediately, quickly followed by the three dots that showed he was typing, but then those disappeared. A few moments later they came back but quickly disappeared again. No response ever came.

The men from the storage company came to take Ransom’s gym equipment away. You threw yourself into directing them, happy to have a distraction from worrying about where Steve was, what he was feeling. But then they were done, the room was empty, and Steve was still gone.

Ransom got back first. He found you in the former gym, trying to rearrange the couch cushions in the center of the room into something more comfortable. He paused in the doorway, Lola dancing around at his feet. “Where’s Steve?” he asked, as he bent down to pet her.

“He, uh–” you said without looking up, “he went for another run. He wasn’t very happy.”

“Fucking asshole,” Ransom muttered.

You finally looked at him, shaking your head. “No, he just doesn’t handle it well when he doesn’t know how to fix something.”

Ransom looked at you very seriously. “And if he makes that your problem, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“That's not– That's not what happened. That's not what he's doing.”

He stared at you for a long moment, causing you to look away, uncomfortable with the attention. “Okay,” he finally said with the hint of a sigh. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you want company or…” He trailed off and shrugged, then left the room.

About an hour later, Steve burst back into the house, yelling into his phone. “Well, where the hell did that money go? There’s no reason for him to be that over-budget. I’ve seen the dailies. –No, you get down there and you get that set back under control. –I can’t, I’m not in LA. There was a family emergency. –Yeah, I know Joseph is still there. He isn’t my only family, is he? Listen, just go do your goddamn job.” With that, he hung up his phone forcefully then stomped upstairs without acknowledging you or Ransom where you were seated on the couch.  

You could feel the irritation coming off of Ransom but he didn’t say anything. You were grateful. You had no idea what to make of Steve right now, how to explain him. Or excuse him. The awkward silence was preferable to trying.

Several minutes later, Steve came back down, changed into fresh clothes again. He smiled at you in greeting and if not for the tense set of his shoulders, you would have thought everything was fine. “Hey,” he said, “I just ordered the two of us some food.”

“The two of us?” you asked, looking pointedly at Ransom.

“Oh!” Steve exclaimed and the fucking fake look of surprise on his face made you want to scream. “I didn’t realize he was back. Well, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s his house. He’ll be able to scrounge up something.”

“Steve,” you started. Of all the unbelievably rude– 

Your ramp-up to letting your brother have it was cut short by Ransom’s hand on your wrist. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. He looked tired and sad in a way you hated. He looked annoyed too, beyond belief, but underneath all that, you also saw something pleading in his expression. You remembered what he’d said this morning. He wanted you to have a nice day with your brother. So you swallowed down all of your anger and didn’t say anything. But you cataloged everything so you could have a private conversation with Steve later.

“See,” Steve said with a smug grin, “it’s fine. This will be nice. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten to pig out together. I got all your favorites.”

Despite your protests, Ransom made himself scarce. The food arrived shortly after he disappeared and Steve dished it up like nothing was wrong. You sat and ate with him, even though you weren’t much up for conversation, despite his frequent efforts. He never said anything about the news you’d shared that morning. You tried not to be too hurt by that. 

As you were finishing up, Ransom quietly reappeared, grabbing something to drink from the fridge. Before he could run back upstairs, you stopped him, feeling awful that he must feel so unwelcome in his own home. “Do you want some food?” you asked, gesturing to the copious leftovers. “I could make you a plate.”

Not waiting for Ransom’s response, Steve cut in. “Is that how it works around here?” he asked, not of you but Ransom. “You’ve got her waiting on you on hand and foot?” his voice teeming with anger.

“Steve,” you hissed, trying to stop him, but he didn’t notice.

“I mean, I get it,” he continued, and there was a sharp edge to his voice that made you very nervous, “you must have thought you hit the jackpot, huh? Some sweet, naive little thing who's too young to really be plugged into the right part of the prep school rumor mill. Hasn't heard about the designer drugs, or the girls, or the parties. All the trouble your family's had to bail you out of. That's why they had to look clear on the other coast for an arrangement for you, huh? They had to go that far to find anyone who didn't already know what a piece of shit you are–”

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS” you shouted, your stool loudly scraping against the hardwood floor as you stood up. It’d barely been there, you’d barely seen it, the flash of deep hurt on Ransom’s face before he’d covered it up, first with a blank mask, then a sneer that threatened to bring everything down. But you wouldn’t let that happen. You were fucking done. You couldn’t deal with this anymore. “Can you just stop, Steve?! I’m so tired of this shit!” you yelled at him.

“What?” they said in unison, both men facing you now, surprised.

“Lola!” you called out. “Come on! Steve and I are taking you for a walk!” She came racing down the stairs, and you quickly put on her harness and leash. Then you were out the door, trusting that Steve was behind you.

You walked in silence for a few blocks. You could feel him watching you warily, but you didn’t turn around to look at him. You didn’t think you’d ever been so mad at him in your life. It might’ve been the angriest you’d ever been with anyone. Your hands were shaking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you finally seethed, stopping so suddenly that he almost ran into you.

“What?” His obliviousness made you even angrier.

You finally turned on him, your face heating up with rage. “You’re such a fucking asshole! You’re fucking everything up!”

He cowed just a bit at your glare but quickly recovered. “What are you talking about?! I came here to help you!”

“Well, you aren’t! I keep telling you that you aren’t but you never fucking listen to me!”

He recoiled a little, and then his eyes went steely. “Really? I never listen to you? I’m the only one who ever listens to you!”

Even if that were true, there was something about the way he said it that really pissed you off. “Fuck you!” you said and charged forward with Lola running to catch up behind you.

A moment later, Steve was on your heels again. “What is going on with you? You’ve been acting off since I got here.”

You spun on your heels to face him. “I’ve been acting off?! I wonder why! You’ve just barged in here like a bull in a china shop, not caring at all about the damage you’re doing!”

“I’m here to help you. I’ve been defending you!”

“Yeah, now! You’re trying to help me, now!”

“What does that mean?”

“Where have you been, Steve? You’ve been MIA the last three months, and now when things might actually get better, now you’re here to ‘defend’ me.”

“Better? This,” he hissed, flinging an arm towards your stomach, “is better?!”

“We had to do it. There was a clause in the contract. You know that!”

He scoffed. “Yeah, and I'm sure he reminded you of that every chance he got, as he fully took advantage of it.”

If he hadn't already set you off, that would be the thing to do it. “Never! Ok? I was the one who pushed it. I was the one who rushed It. Me. Never him.”

That brought Steve up short. “What? Why would you do that?”

“Because of your aunt!”

For a frustratingly long moment, he just gave you a confused look. Then you finally saw the realization dawn on his face. “Oh. Laura.”

“Yes, Laura! That wasn't going to be me. Not ever.”

“I never would have let that happen!”

The laugh that burst out of you at that was cold, hard. “How?” you asked. “You're always saying shit like that, but what, exactly, would you have done?”

He started to answer, but you cut him off quickly, shaking your head.

“This is my life, Steve. Mine. I’m the one who has to actually live it. I don’t need you judging me for how I choose to survive it.”

“You shouldn't have to just survive it,” he said. His tone had suddenly turned sad. It made you even angrier. 

“I'll be lucky to survive it,” you growled. “You get to just waltz around, forgetting how this world works whenever it's convenient for you. Meanwhile, I have to claw and fight for just the possibility that I might not turn into my mom.” You took a deep breath. “Ransom, at least, can fucking see that. He's stuck in this mess with me, and I think he might actually want to try. You’re not going to ruin that for me just because he insulted you once at a cocktail party or whatever.” You turned on your heels. You were exhausted. You didn't have the energy for any more of this. “I'm going back. You can come if you want. But you better fucking apologize. He didn't deserve that. No matter what he’s done, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way by you.”

Steve was a few minutes behind you getting back to the house, and he did apologize, although through gritted teeth. The whole time, Ransom’s eyes were on you. 

You declared you were going to bed shortly after. It was too early, but you didn't care. You were done with this day.

As you were changing into your sleep clothes, Ransom quietly let himself into his room. You both looked a little startled by your state of undress. Part of you wanted to cover up. It felt so intimate, changing in front of him. But you knew that was silly. He'd already seen so much more of you. 

He just stood there for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You yelled at him for me.”

“Yeah,” you said. “He deserved it.”

“But he's your brother.” He almost seemed confused. 

The absolutely absurd thought And you're my husband popped into your head unbidden, but thankfully you didn't vocalize it. “That doesn't change the fact that he was wrong.”

Ransom didn’t say anything. Just stood there with a furrowed brow. After too much silence you asked softly, “Did I do something wrong?”

He jolted a little, like he’d been somewhere else, then shook his head. “No, sorry, I just–” He took a breath. “Thank you. I’m not used to people doing things like that for me.” 

“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You suddenly felt so sad for him. But honestly, the only person who’d ever done anything like this for you had been Steve. And you’d seen Ransom’s family. You knew he’d never had a Steve.

Sparing you from having to figure out a response, Ransom took a deep breath, “Listen,” he started, “about the things he said, I–”

You cut him off with a shake of your head. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. Sometime, maybe, but not right now.” Nothing about his past would change things for you now. You’d still be married to him either way. It was better to just focus on the man he was showing himself to be now.

Ransom took a long moment and looked at you carefully. Finally, he asked, “Did you yell at him for yourself too?”

You nodded, then added a quiet, “I did.”

“Good,” he said, then started to turn around. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed. Good night.”

“Good night,” you whispered.

Right before he left the room, he turned back to add one more thing. “I’ve never seen you as naive. Not for a moment in this whole thing.” Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

You just stood there, in the middle of the room, unable to move for a few minutes. Then you took a deep breath and moved into the bathroom. As you finished getting ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that maybe you had two people in your corner now.

Your bedroom furniture and other belongings were delivered the next day. The movers set up the heavy furniture and then left everything else to you. As you started to begin unpacking, there was a hesitant knock on the door frame. 

Steve stood just outside your now bedroom, looking far less sure than you were used to. “Would you like some help?” he asked softly. 

“Sure,” you said, with a little shrug, pushing some boxes in his direction.

The two of you mostly worked in silence, only broken by Steve’s occasional questions of where you wanted your things to go. After a while he finally broke, “Dad’s been piling a ton of new stuff on my plate.” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, listening. “Responsibilities and projects and– He wants me to take on more of being the face of the studio, too, so lots of parties and dinners and stuff. My schedule has been out of control. I’d think he was getting ready to retire if I didn’t actually know him.” He let out a weak chuckle. When you didn’t react, didn’t join him, he put his hands up in defense. “Not an excuse, just–” he shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly and sighed, “just an explanation, I guess.”

“You told me that I could call you any time of day for any reason. That’s what you said. And then I did, and you were nowhere to be found.”

“I know,” he started, “I–”

You shook your head. It was your turn to talk. “I spent months here feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. I’ve had nothing to do, no one to talk to. I was living with someone I thought I needed to be scared of.” You paused, wondering if that would set Steve off, but he just sat there, waiting for you to continue. Like he was really trying to listen this time. “His family’s been so awful to me, his mom especially. And you know my mom's been no help. She just kept telling me to keep him happy, even though I didn't know how. And I didn't know how to talk to him and he didn't know how to talk to me. But I knew the only way I could even start to feel secure here was if we fulfilled every part of the contract. So,” you put your hand on your stomach self-consciously and shook your head. “And the only person I actually wanted to talk to was you, and you wouldn't pick up your fucking phone. It felt like I was just stuck here while you went back to your life and forgot about me.” Tears spilled past your lashes and you hurried to wipe them away.

Steve’s face, which had grown sadder as you'd been talking, completely crumpled. He crawled from his sitting position across the room to you as fast as he could. “Hey, no,” he said emphatically as soon as he was sitting in front of you. “I think about you all the time. I've missed you so much. I've been so worried about you. I know I haven't done a good job showing it. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn't care. I–” He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them, they had the distinct shine of unshed tears. “Talking to you was really hard. I felt like you weren’t actually telling me anything.” Before you even opened your mouth, Steve put up a hand to stop you from saying anything. “I'm not saying any of this was your fault. I know it's all mine. But I just didn’t know how to get you to talk to me. And if you wouldn't tell me what was wrong, then I couldn't fix it. I felt so useless. Every time we talked I felt so fucking useless. And so sometimes,” he paused like he was bracing himself, “sometimes it was kind of a relief to have the excuse of being busy. To have a reason to not call or text you back right away. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was always thinking about you. I was always worried about you. But sometimes I just couldn't fucking talk to you.”

It took your breath away, the intense stab of hurt you felt. “I’ve never needed you to be useful,” you gasped out through your tears. “I just need you to be there for me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I just need you to be there for me.”

“Shit,” he choked out, his voice so thick. “I know.” He moved forward, then paused, waiting for you to stop him. When you didn’t, he lunged for you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.”

You just sat like that, holding each other for several minutes. When you finally pulled apart, Steve blinked his eyes clear and said, “I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said softly, and took a deep breath, “and I forgive you for doing it anyway.”

You watched some of the rigidness leave his shoulders. “Thank you,” he breathed out.

Neither of you said anything, and there was still this tension in the room. You were so tired of it. You just wanted your brother back. You just wanted any normalcy you could possibly get, so you wiped the tears from your eyes and said, “You're right. I wasn't telling you anything. I think because I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn't listen past the first two words and then do something completely wild, like fly all the way across the country to punch Ransom in the face. Ridiculous, right?”

He just stared at you in shock and then clocked the wry smile on your face. He laughed despite himself, then rolled his eyes and groaned. “You're sure he didn’t deserve it?”

You pulled a small pillow from the box beside you and threw it at him, annoyed as he dodged it easily. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole!” You scowled at him, but you couldn’t quite keep the corners of your mouth from ticking up. The whole room felt lighter now, easier to breathe in. It was such a relief.

“I can’t believe you actually like him now,” Steve whined, his whole face scrunched up in disgust.

You shrugged. “I still don’t really know him. But I’m going to try to. We both are, I hope. I don’t know, I think maybe we could be friends, eventually.” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s a best-case scenario I never really imagined.”

Steve looked at you thoughtfully, and with a hint of playfulness, said, “Well. I’m never going to like him.” His eyes got a little more serious. “But I’m really happy, and so relieved, that things are getting better for you.”

“Yeah, me too,” you said softly. Then you both went back to unpacking, conversation ebbing in and out much easier now.

Eventually, you heard him let out a long sigh. You turned to look at him as he carefully pulled something from a box. Oh. It was Mr. Bun Bun, your favorite stuffed animal as a kid. You remembered crying as you packed it away to put into storage, Steve sitting next to you, gently rubbing your back.

He slowly took a few steps to the head of your bed and then reverently placed it against your pillows. He just stared at it for a moment and then looked around at the rest of the room. “Wow,” he said, and he sounded so sad, “I guess you really live here now.”

“What do you mean?” you asked. “I've been here for months.”

“Yeah, I know. But I guess,” he shrugged, “I guess it still sort of felt like you'd be back any day. But all your stuff's here now. It just– It feels final.”

You looked around the room as well. It wasn't exactly like your old room in your old apartment but this was the closest thing you'd had to feeling home in months. “Yeah,” you said quietly, not quite sure what to do with these feelings. “I guess it does.”

Steve sat down on your bed and you immediately joined him. He knocked his knee against yours. “I know I keep saying this, but I really do miss you. It’s so weird to not have you in LA anymore. To go to all these parties and not be able to talk to you there. Or to be able to just drop by your apartment when I need to see you. Or when you need to see me.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “That’s why it’s so important for us to actually keep in touch.”

“I know,” he said, seriously. “I’ll be better at it. I promise.”

You hummed in response and grabbed his hand. Now that everything was out in the open, it was such a relief to just be able to enjoy his closeness, without the tension hanging over both of you.

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and spoke again. “I’m gonna go home tonight.”

“What? Why?”

“You were right. I’m just in the way here. It’s time for me to go.”

“Ok,” you replied, your voice small. You weren’t sure how to feel about that—the last few days had been so hard and so exhausting. But you’d finally gotten your brother back and now he was leaving again? “Are you sure?”

He jostled you with his shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently with a smile. “I’ll be back. And I’ll even let you invite me next time.”

You smiled back. “Advanced notice?” you asked. “How novel!”

Steve grabbed one of your pillows and hit you with it. You collapsed into giggles, feeling lighter than you had for a long time.

You spent the rest of the day with your brother, which warmed your soul even more than you thought you needed. 

You took Lola out for a short walk in the evening, while Steve finished gathering his things before the car would come to pick him up. When you came back in, you found Steve and Ransom locked in a serious conversation. They spoke in hushed tones, leaning across the kitchen island to face each other. There was no yelling. No tensing muscles ready for a fight. All the same, it made you very nervous. 

They both quieted as they noticed your presence. That didn’t help to quell your worry at all. “What’s going on here?” 

Steve gave you his trademarked boyish grin. “Just getting to know my brother-in-law.”

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously then cast a concerned glance at Ransom, but he waved you off with a reassuring shake of his head. Steve was still grinning at you like everything was fine. He really could be such an asshole. “Sure. OK,” you said, resigned to whatever weird dynamic was happening in front of you. “Are you all ready?”

“Yup,” Steve nodded, gesturing to where his luggage was waiting by the door. “Car should be here any minute.”

You nodded back, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. He pulled you into a hug quickly. He just held you for a moment before you heard Ransom clear his throat behind you. “I’ll give you two your privacy.”

You pulled away just enough to see Steve look over your shoulder so he could say, “Remember what we talked about.”

You looked over to Ransom who held Steve’s gaze and firmly said, “Yeah, you too,” then went upstairs.

“The fuck was that?” you asked Steve.

“Nothing, just a conversation we needed to have.”

“Steve,” you sighed in exasperation as you separated yourself from him.

He put up his hands in defense. “It’s fine. I’m playing nice. I promise.”

“Sure.”

He took a step back and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s one more thing I need to say to you. I should have done it yesterday when you first–” he shook his head. “My reaction when you told me about the baby was awful, I know that. And I don’t know if ‘congratulations’ is something you want to hear right now, so I just want to say that I’ll be here for you, whatever you need. And I’ll be here for the baby too. OK? I just really needed to say that.”

You searched his face, his eyes for anything that might warn you that his words were empty, but all you found was sincerity. You took a deep breath. “All I need is for you to pick up your phone.”

“I know,” he nodded quickly. “I will.”

You were so torn between the exhaustion and frustration of the last few days and just how much you'd missed your brother. You pulled him into another hug. “You’re such a jerk,” you said with a hint of fondness.

“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.

“And I love you so much.”

You felt him exhale, any remaining uneasiness bleeding out of him. “I know. I love you too.”

His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. “Your car is here,” you said sadly, pulling away.

“Hey, that’s ok. It’s not like they’ll leave without me.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you should go. You don’t want to get home too late.”

“Oh, chipmunk,” he sighed. “Ok, one more,” then hugged you again. “I’m so proud of you.”

You pulled back to look him in the eye. “What for?”

He took a moment to gather his words. Finally, he said, looking you right in the eye, “For being so much stronger than you should have to be.”

You had no idea what to say to that so you walked over to the door, Steve right behind you. 

At the door, he put one hand on his suitcase, and with the other, he grabbed your hand. “I’ll see you again soon. I promise.”

You nodded, searching for something to say. “Uh, thanks for coming.”

That elicited a big hearty laugh from him. “Yeah, sure.” He squeezed your hand. “Take good care of yourself.”

“You too,” you said, opening the door for him.

He gave you a big smile before he walked out the door. You watched the driver take Steve’s suitcase from him and open the back door for Steve to get in. You stayed in the doorway until the car slowly backed down the driveway and turned onto the road. After closing the door, you still stayed where you were, trying to breathe through the flood of emotions overtaking you. You already missed him so much, yet you were so relieved he was gone. What were you supposed to do with that?

You were finally jolted out of your reverie by the sound of Ransom coming down the stairs, the tinkling of Lola’s collar accompanying him. “Steve’s gone?” he asked as he came off the last step. 

When you nodded, you saw the way his shoulders slumped in relief. You held back the apology desperate to crawl out of your mouth. Steve’s actions weren’t your responsibility, you tried so hard to remember. But still, Ransom had lost the comfort of his own home for days. The guilt was there.

He got himself a water out of the fridge and then looked at you carefully. “How are you?”

The reflex to tell him you were fine was strong, but you did your best to resist it and answered honestly. “I don’t really know.”

He smiled a little ruefully. “I have no idea what’s normal for siblings.”

You chuckled lightly. “Neither do I.”

He took several steps towards you and you couldn’t help the way your body swayed in his direction, just a little. “But you’re alright?’

You nodded and said softly, “I will be.”

“Good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the way the fingers on one of his hands drummed against his thigh. “Well. I just wanted to check on you before I went to bed.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, strangely aware of the space between you. “I appreciate it. It was a weird few days, but I think I’m ok. Or I will be.”

“Yeah. Good,” he said again. 

You both just stood there for a moment, the air around you oddly charged, until Lola pawed at your leg. “Right. Well, she needs to go out. So. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said quietly, then turned toward the sink as you went outside with Lola.

When you got back in, there was no sign of Ransom, so you led Lola upstairs to your new bedroom. She immediately hopped onto your bed, wagging her tail wildly. As you looked around, all of your things almost as they’d been in your apartment in LA, those feelings you felt while unpacking your things with Steve grew in you even more. You smiled at your little dog. “Yeah, feels almost like home, doesn’t it, Lola?”

Tag list is open

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[crimsoncandy04]

Halloween offer. Scaramouche in a costume: ulona, ​​Scream, Vampire any to your taste. Wants to kill us trying to find us in a big house where they threw a party. 🎃

Posts have been slow today and I'm sorry for making you and everyone wait.

(it was my laundry day ☺️ it took a bit but now I can write in clean/lavender scented sheets. Plus my favorite blankie is soft again 🥰❤️)

So here is your request.

(Albeit a bit behind schedule) ( please forgive me 🥺😖)

Jealousy was a nasty emotion. An unsightly feeling that made any respectable human look stupid and deranged. At least that's what Scaramouche had originally believed before he discovered that a certain brother of his had done the unthinkable. No. The unforgivable.

Kabukimono KNEW that Scara liked you. And yet he STILL accepted your confession and started dating you.

He didn't even attend the same university as you and still just believed he could have you when CLEARLY Scaramouche would have been the more convenient pick! It's not that they looked any different anyways...Scara could EASILY act more whiny and insufferable if he needed to, since you APPARENTLY had a type.

The audacity of the little pipsqueak.

He wouldn't let this betrayal slide.

No.

Kabukimono would pay.

YOU would pay.

And so Scara quickly began to set everything up for his revenge plan.

Getting rid of his triplet brother would be the hardest part. But he decided that it would be easiest to frame his end as a tragic accident.

Adding something he was allergic to in his food would be easiest. Especially if he hid it well and convinced kabukimono to eat after he took his medicine.

The police would see that he was already under the effects of sleeping medication. And conclude that in his dreary mental state, he must've accidentally eaten something that was deadly to him and rule his death as an accident.

It was perfect.

However, just before Scaramouche pulled it off, fucking WANDERER nearly messed it up completely by asking Scaramouche why he offered to make dinner and clearly added something to the pot that Kabu couldn't have.

He brushed it off as a mistake and assured his other kin that he would make something else but as soon as Wanderer left, Scaramouche went back to scheming.

He knew he succeeded when he got a call from the local hospital with Wanderer on the other end screaming his head off about Scaramouche being a piece of shit and accusing him of purposely harming their baby brother.

Scara just hung up.

That little shit had it coming.

But now his attention was back on you.

Beautiful, funny, charming... STUPID...you.

No. He had to remain strong.

You were clearly in the wrong. How could you not have seen the way he looked at you? The way he'd leave little gifts on your desk? The way he'd always drop EVERYTHING to spend time with you if you just as much as mentioned that you were lonely.

You did this on purpose just to fuck with him huh?

You'd regret that.

One of the most popular men on campus (Aether) had recently announced that he was going to throw a huge Halloween party at his house. Everyone who wanted to come could as he and his sister (Lumine) were well regarded for their kindness and easy going attitudes socially. Therefore the event wasn't exclusive and they made it clear that everyone going was to just have fun and have a few drinks regardless of anything going on in their lives outside.

This opportunity couldn't be better for Scara. He relished in the idea of being handed such a perfect chance to get you alone practically on a silver platter.

Now he just needed a fucking costume.

A day had passed since the party announcement and eventually Scaramouche found the time to shop for a costume. A typical store bought vampire outfit. Nothing special, he didn't plan on staying honestly. Just wanted to get you and then leave. There was no need for an elaborate or expensive costume.

However once Scaramouche arrived at the party, he realized that finding you might be more of an issue than he originally considered.

Aether and Lumine clearly came from a well off family to put it simply. Their home was nothing short of an old money mansion that had more square feet to it than the number of citizens in the town. And as Scaramouche crept inside the painted giant oak doors along with the rest of the crowd, his eyes widened in sheer disbelief as he took in the giant foyer and circular iron staircase as well as the high ceilings and marble floors.

Where the hell were you in this absolutely unnecessary amount of likely inherited living space?

Scaramouche slowly made his way through the crowd of guests and made it upstairs safely. Pausing to look below only once as his heart practically stopped.

Wanderer had just entered.

He wasn't dressed up either and he had his phone out which meant only one thing.

He was looking for Scara.

Quickly Scaramouche fled from the stairs to the upstairs hall. A long corridor with six doors lining the walls in total. He could hear voices and the muffled sounds of people fucking, however as he crept closer to the end of the hallway, he managed to catch your voice finally.

However it was coming from the stairs.

Fuck.

Scaramouche crept back towards the top. Careful to not make much of a scene as he tried to blend in with everyone else he passed and appear nonchalant.

What were you wearing?

He heard you laughing then. Sharply turning his head to face the group of people that were drinking and chatting near the railing. However he couldn't spot which one was you. He saw two men dressed as a cartoon character and an actual banana. The rest of the group consisted of 5 women. Three were wearing generic witch costumes while the other two were some kind of robot and a maid.

Scaramouche tried peering at their faces but was quickly given a look and was forced to look away. Not that he had had much time anyway as he glimpsed Wanderer coming up the steps too.

Scara hurried away.

He guessed you were probably one of the witch girls he didn't see very closely and ducked into a closet nearby to wait out Wanderer while also spying on you and your two friends.

You sounded drunk. But oddly enough it was almost cute to him. The way you laughed at stupid things and sang along to the music playing downstairs. Going as far as to poorly mimic the sound of the instruments with your own voice as you gave little care to your surroundings.

Eventually you wandered off. And so did Scara's brother thankfully.

He tried to trail you now. The knife he had brought still safely tucked into his pocket as he struggled to guess which room you were in now.

Scaramouche couldn't wait to make you pay for playing with his emotions like you did. Just the idea of seeing your pretty face contorted with fear as you struggled to move underneath him while he pinned you down. He could just hear the sounds of your adorable shrieks of pain and terror as he plunged the blade into your chest. The satisfaction he would feel, knowing that HE had been the last face you saw. The last man that would be in your mind as your eyes dulled and your body slowly bled out beneath him.

Finally you would know how he felt when he saw you with his brother at that stupid park that day.

The suffering he had been put through. The pain in his chest that YOU had inflicted upon him.

Scaramouche crept into the first empty room. Nothing. Just some random girl that lay passed out on the floor. Some other girl was clearly high as she sat on the bed staring at the ceiling blankly.

He shut the door angrily.

He heard you talking again.

The end. She's near the end of the hallway.

However before Scaramouche could head that way, he glimpsed a blue and white hoodie out of the corner of his eye and immediately ducked back into the room he had just left as Wanderer passed by the door and greeted you as you spotted him.

"Wawan! You came! Wait where's Kabu? Is he busy or something? I really needed to see him today."

"he's fine. He just had a really bad allergy attack yesterday. He's at home resting now. By the way, have you seen Scaramouche anywhere? I need to discuss something with him but I can't find him."

"no. I haven't. I thought he didn't like parties so I didn't bother looking for him."

"don't worry about it then. It's no big deal anyway. Just text me if you do see him. Have fun Y/N. I'll see you next week."

Finally he left after that.

Scaramouche quickly made his move.

However you were fucking gone AGAIN by the time he got to the end of the hall and picked the lock on the furthest door.

Swearing to himself and turning back around, he spotted your hat above the crowd and quickly stalked after you as you went back downstairs.

Several people were suspicious of him now as he had done nothing but creep around and hide since he had arrived and as he followed you into the kitchen, more heads turned his way.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This was NOT as easy as he thought it would be.

Scaramouche quickly put on a fake smile as he pretended to be grabbing some pizza and ate it in the corner as he kept his eyes glued on you.

Your long dark hair fell over your plump ass in the most sensual way in his opinion. Your smooth skin glistened in the harsh bright lights. The way your soft voice sounded so breathy and kind even now as you slurred your words and tried to hug someone only to spill your drink on yourself.

Your thin black dress clung to your hips and emphasized your full figure beautifully as you struggled to wipe off the excess beverage from your chest with a napkin someone handed you.

Gods how Scaramouche could just feel his cock harden in his pants at the thought of being able to yank down that tight dress and expose your fat tits to him as he leaned down and gently bit one of your nipples between his teeth.

But no. He couldn't. You didn't want him.

You wanted his lousy and probably terrible lay of a brother instead.

Scaramouche struggled to understand what you even saw in that brat as he followed you out the back of the kitchen and through the small hallway behind it. You were heading for the bathroom at the end and he knew it was now or never.

If Scaramouche couldn't have you.

No one would.

You stumbled through the door just as he lunged in after you. Quickly shutting it and locking you both inside.

You had no idea what was going on.

"oh Scara! I thought you were at home with your brothers. Sorry I really need to pee. Can you wait outside for your turn in the bathroom? I don't feel comfortable with you while I'm here too.

Suddenly Scaramouche grabbed you by your shoulders and flipped you around. Pinning you against the bathroom wall as he swiftly pulled out his knife and held it to your throat.

"I'll bet you would be just fine if I were Kabukimono though hmm? You'd let HIM be in here with you wouldn't you?"

Scaramouche's hand shook as he pressed the blade into your tender flesh. A thin crimson line forming as he continued.

"so did you have your fun? Did you and him just LAUGH it up as you joked about how PATHETIC I must've looked trying so hard to get your attention for so long?"

"S-Scara... please you don't understand! We're not together!" You pleaded.

He just rolled his eyes.

"yeah right. I SAW you two meet up after evening class last month. DON'T fucking lie to me bitch."

"I'm not lying! Check my phone if you don't believe me!"

Scaramouche paused. Inching the blade away from your neck just a little.

"what? What do you mean?"

"just look. I didn't know how else to try and talk to you. So I befriended Kabu in hopes that he'd help me figure out how to spend more time with you." Your voice trembled. You shook physically as Scaramouche felt his entire inside grow cold.

No way.

He pulled your phone from your purse and easily unlocked it. Scrolling through your messages. His entire face went blank.

Shit.

He fucked up.

BEYOND fucked up.

You suddenly began to cry.

"please don't kill me! I didn't mean to make you mad! I thought you hated me because we never talked! Please just let me leave! I wanna go home!"

Scaramouche's heart raced.

No no.

This was bad.

You'd NEVER talk to him again after this.

You'd probably even call the police.

Wanderer would hear the story and put two and two together as to what happened to Kabukimono.

He'd absolutely beat the shit out of him and that was if Scaramouche DIDN'T get the shit beat out of him in prison first for two counts of attempted murder!

He knew he was fucked.

And so he gave in to the thoughts in his head.

"I'll let you go. But first..."

Scaramouche pulled you back against him as he continued to hold the knife to your throat. His free hand grasped your boob as he leaned in and gently nibbled the side of your neck.

"If I never get the chance to touch you after this, I want to enjoy myself tonight."

Using his blade, Scaramouche then brought the weapon downward and cut open the front of your dress. Your nipples grew hard as the cool air hit them. Your pussy getting wet despite the circumstances.

You tried to push Scara away from you but he clung on tightly. His entire arm wrapped around your waist as he pushed you towards the floor. Once down, he slapped your ass HARD as he pulled down the back of your dress next and exposed more of you to his predatory gaze.

His eyes linger on your curves as you feel his hand carefully trace the outline of your sex through the fabric of your panties. Cupping your pussy as he pulled your hair aside and kissed your neck again. Leaving a small trail down your back as his lips stopped on your ass cheek. He then gave it another slap before suddenly cutting away your underwear too.

Your glistening sex was a sight to behold. So wet and plump. So warm and inviting. Scaramouche couldn't help but give your lower lips a little lick as he dug his hands into your hips and pulled you against his face.

"Scara~" you whine. His tongue is deep inside of you then. He doesn't stop.

He laps at your delicate inner walls greedily even as you writhe on the floor. Your drunk body doing very little as you slump against the bathroom tile. The pleasure being too much for you in your current mental state.

You hear him sigh and moan a little against your cunt as he gives some attention to your clit next. Licking in a small circular motion as he makes your legs shake. Only stopping when you cry out and your juices squirt into his mouth.

Scaramouche swallows every drop hungrily as sits up and then flips you finally. Settling between your thighs as he frees his cock and teases your opening with the head.

"Scara you can't...I could get pregnant ~" you moan. Your words simply go in one ear and out the other as he slides into you roughly.

"good. If you do, everyone will know who this pussy belongs to and no one will DARE take you from me. Besides..." He picks up the pace. Yanking your knees up further as he fucks deeper into you.

"I think you'd look so cute all swollen with my child." He places a hand on your lower abdomen as he begins to go even faster now. His climax quickly approaching.

You moan and gasp as he hits your sweet spots repeatedly. Causing your lower body to tighten as you feel yourself cumming again. This time alongside Scara.

He takes a few deep breaths before slowly pulling out of you. Your body limp from the assault as you lay completely spent on the floor before him.

Fuck.

There was no coming back from this.

Scaramouche pulled out his phone and shot Wanderer a quick text. Telling him everything before tossing it over his shoulder and going back to focusing on you.

You were clearly still intoxicated. But your face was glowing as the aftermath of your orgasm still has you relaxed and tired. Scaramouche knew he'd be in deep shit for this. All of this.

But he still had one plan in mind.

He slid himself back into your tight heat and began to thrust into you once more. Your soft moans already driving him wild. And this would just be the beginning.

Before the night was over either Wanderer or the police would arrive for him. Or maybe both. But that didn't matter anymore.

Scaramouche still had a good 45 minutes with you before anyone would find you both.

That was plenty of time to ensure that at least when he was behind bars, that you and your body would be forever marked by him.

And that he'd have a new son or daughter waiting for him upon his release.

[httpskuzuu]

Fault

i wrote this while watching apocalipsisminecraft :D

Anyway, I'm not very good at writing dialogues, so I hope it's okay

Yandere!Dazai x Reader

English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes

summary: you deal with the silent treatment after an argument.

tw: angst¿, toxic relationship, manipulation

The silence is simply punishing, it always was. Your body was intact, balled up on your bed, but your mind wasn't as lucky. The silent treatment was a problem, one that hurt more than you'd like to admit, but your still-wet cheeks gave you away.

It hurt you that Dazai ignored you. You had tried to distract yourself in a thousand ways these days: you went out with your friends (the few you had left), spent the days away from home, concentrated on your hobbies. Nothing seemed to work, it's as if Dazai had planted a seed in your psyche that keeps growing and growing, every day his silence was getting worse.

You can't win an argument because this is what happens, talking or complaining about Osamu's toxic behavior would only ensure you that wordless jail. You had every right to complain! Because of him you lost many friends, he distanced you from them in a way that made you only realize it when it was too late, after you had already cut the total bond with them and they didn't want to see you again.

You don't blame them either, if a friend had a toxic boyfriend and ignored you for him all day, not letting help them, you would be angry too. They have been very patient because they know the details of your life with Dazai well, but everyone has limits.

Now you are alone, even Dazai doesn't seem to love you.

You try to hold back your tears at that thought, but it is impossible, you can only cover your mouth with your hand to hide your sobs. That's one of the things you had tried to avoid, if Dazai really loved you he wouldn't do this to you.

He knows of your suffering and yet he continues to treat you as if you were a ghost, you can't help but doubt his feelings for you. You think that maybe you are just a sadistic desire of his, that he only wants to pretend to love you and then leave you abandoned like a toy. Yes, you are just that, his toy.

There's not much to complain about either, you're aware of your situation and yet here you are, by his side. It's not that you wouldn't have tried to leave him, you did once, but he came back to beg your forgiveness and you simply couldn't refuse. You become weak with just one look from him.

And that cycle was always repeating itself. Whenever there was a fight big enough to overshadow your love for Osamu, he was the one who apologized. You wished it was like that this time too, but it's not.

Know what, fuck it, who needs friends anyway? You need Dazai, it hurts not being together with him. It eats you up inside with anger and shame for letting yourself fall for his manipulation, but what else are you going to do? You're not going to keep crying in bed until you fall asleep.

You head towards the living room where you know for sure that Dazai is, watching TV. He doesn't even turn to look at you even though you are sure he heard your footsteps.

“Osamu.” Saying his name is a mixture of pain and love that infiltrates your brain. Sometimes you wish you had never met him, but you think better of it when you remember that he is the only one who loves you. Who else could love you with your attitude?

He still does not respond and a look of sadness invades you, you try to remove it, but it comes back each time. Finally you give up, Dazai already knows how weak and useless you are and knows well your character, so you allow yourself to cry.

You don't hesitate to lie on his body and hug him while you try to form a sentence, any sentence, but only incoherent sobs come out.

You don't see Osamu's reaction, you just wish he was as affected as you are. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head lovingly. You missed him so much, you don't even know how you managed to survive these days without his love and touch. “What is it, Belladonna?”

You press your face against his chest as shame clutches tightly at your throat. He mocks you even your current state and that is like a stab in the heart, you feel the pain in every detail.

“You hate me, you hate me.” Stifled meaningless sobs come out of your mouth, but still Osamu manages to hear them.

“And why would you say such a stupid thing?”

“You were ignoring me! If you really loved me you wouldn't do that.”

“So now I'm the bad guy.” His tone of voice changes to a more distant one and his hug loses strength. In response you can only hug him tighter, afraid that, if you loosen his arms a little, he will leave you alone again. “You didn't try to talk to me either.”

You raise your gaze, an indignant one, which is accompanied by furrowed eyebrows. You want to look annoyed, but you just look pathetic.

“That's because you always do the same thing! We fight and you stop talking to me!” Pain trickles through your words, but Dazai doesn't seem to care enough to comfort you. “What am I going to humiliate myself for when I know you're going to ignore me?”

"Oh, poor little Belladonna, always the victim of the story." His condescending voice makes you feel like an idiot, you come to think that you really are. "Didn't you ever think I just needed space? Come on, you're so clingy and I was just trying to protect you from getting hurt.”

Seeing your puzzled expression, he can only laugh.

“Well of course you haven't thought about it. That cute little head of yours is good for nothing but victimization.”

“I- I'm sorry, I didn't know you felt this way...” Your voice trembles and his words linger in your mind. Maybe it's all your fault after all, you've never tried to put yourself in the opposite shoes and that makes you feel like the biggest useless.

The award for the worst partner in the world should be given to you, you think.

Dazai has no reaction at first, looking at you with those cold eyes, but they soften after a few seconds. He can't resist you after all.

Osamu's warm arms squeeze you again, you almost cry with joy thanks to how nice it feels to be held like that.

"It's okay, my sweet." Osamu ends up whispering near your ear, which sends a pleasurable shiver throughout your body. “Let me show you how much I love you now.”

and if I make a second part nsfw? 👀

[forever-rogue]

Hi! If you’re taking requests then can I please ask for you to write a Joel x Reader one where Joel and Reader have been dating for a long time and are now finally happily living in Jackson (with Ellie), and it was all going fine until Joel’s PTSD is randomly triggered and he accidentally hurts Reader when she touches him as a way to check on him and offer him comfort like she normally would do during one of his panic attacks?

Like maybe they’re at a family bbq (with Tommy and his wife) or the bar or even at their own home when something — whether it be a certain sound, smell, word, etc. — triggers him to the point where he is totally out of it and gets startled when Reader touches him, causing him to slightly hurt her by grabbing her wrist or whatnot because he mistakes her as a threat. Once he snaps out of his PTSD episode, he immediately feels horrible and regretful despite how much Reader tries to assure him that she’s okay and it wasn’t his fault. But it’s not enough; he starts to distant himself out of fear that he’d potentially hurt her again and out of fear that he’d finally done something enough that’ll make her want to leave him. Reader catches on though and then does her best to make Joel realize that she doesn’t blame him for what happened, she’ll always be there for him — through the good, bad, and ugly —, and she’ll never leave him because he’s the love of her life. Just basically a whole lot of hurt and comfort (with a hint of angst and fluff) lol.

(Ah, I’m so sorry that this ended up being such an annoyingly long and detailed ask! I was struggling with how to express my idea in words, and just ended up rambling… I hope it’s okay! 😭 Please feel free to change anything — you’re incredibly talented, so I completely trust your wherever your creativity takes you if you choose to write this).

Anyway! Thank you so much for writing and sharing all of your stories — your writing is truly outstanding and really just your account as a whole is one of my absolute favorites! 🫶🏻

AN | Please, this is so cute but sad, but there’s also a happy ending 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Mentions of PTSD

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Think you made enough food?” you felt Joel’s arm at the small of your back as you set up the desserts you had made. You turned to him and pretended to huff before playfully swatting his hand away, “I think you’ve got enough for the whole of Jackson.”

“I never hear you complaining, Joel Miller,” you grabbed one of the chocolate cookies you’d made and took a bite before offering half to him. He playfully bit it out of your hand, causing you to giggle at him, “no manners, Mr. Miller. None at all!”

“I,” he mumbled through a mouth of cookie, “am a perfect gentleman, darlin’.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you uncovered the rest of the baked goods you’d prepared and marveled at your handiwork, “this is a family barbeque but you know that basically means everyone will be here since we’re all basically one big, weird family. Hence, I made plenty.”

“What’s a smart woman like you doing with a fool like me?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in a for a sweet kiss, practically beaming when you pulled back, “baby.”

"Don't baby me, Miller," you planted a playful, sloppy kiss on his cheek, "go on and help your brother with the barbecue so we can actually eat."

"Fine," he clutched at his heart as he scoffed before making his way over to Tommy. You couldn't help but watch him go, shaking your head in amusement. This man.

-

The world might have been different from how it once used to be, but one of the things that never changed was the love of fireworks. Jimmy and Sandra had somehow managed to come up with a cache of them on one of their last trips out of Jackson. 

Naturally, the brilliant idea that they could be used at the barbecue was proposed and it wasn't hard to convince the younger Miller brother to go ahead with it. Under controlled circumstances, it would all be fine. 

And realistically it should have been fine…you had no reason to think that it wouldn't be. But life didn't seem to agree with you and had a completely different idea. 

You were standing with Ellie, your arms wrapped around her shoulders and you hugged onto her, waiting to see all the pretty fireworks. It hit you then and there - Ellie had never seen fireworks before! The idea in and of itself seemed wild. 

Her entire face was lit up from her big smile and the sparkling lights as the two of you watched the ones Tommy had set off. 

"Pretty cool, huh?" You pressed a kiss to the top of her head before realizing that something, or someone rather, was missing, "I'm going to go and find Joel. I'll be right back!"

Ellie was so distracted that she didn't even take much note of you leaving. It only took a few minutes before you found him near the back of the house, picking at something from one of the tables, or so you thought anyway.

"Babe?" You weren't sure if he could hear you over the clambering of the crowd and the fireworks; he didn't turn around. You walked closer to him and reached for him, "Joel?"

And then it happened all at once; he turned around and grabbed your wrist, twisting your arm at a painful angle and causing you to cry out. His eyes were dark but there was nothing there, just an empty hollowness. 

“Joel!” you tried to pull out of his tight grip but that only made things more painful. He wasn’t letting go and you didn’t know what to do - he clearly wasn’t him right now. You struggled with him for a few moments before you heard someone running up and yelling at Joel to stop. 

You looked up and felt a wave of relief wash over your body when you realized it was Tommy. If there was anyone that could help in this situation, it would be him. Tommy managed to pry Joel’s hands off you, the sheer force causing you to stumble backwards and fall onto your butt. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tommy’s hands were on Joel’s shoulders as he tried to get him to snap out of his trance. You’d never seen him like this and it was as scary as it was heartbreaking. You didn’t fully know what was going on but you had a fairly good guess, “Joel, this isn’t real, it’s just a memory. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re at home with us.”

That seemed to quell him even if it was the slightest bit and he shook his head, almost as if he was trying to shake whatever was going on off. 

“Breathe in and out slowly,” Tommy had a calming effect on your boyfriend who seemed to relax, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly, “look around, we’re at home, we’re safe.”

Tommy took a few steps back and looked at you, an apologetic expression on his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as he held out his hand to help you to up and to your feet. Once you were back up, you looked over at Joel to find looking between you and Tommy,

“Joel?” your voice almost cracked as you subconsciously at your sore wrist and sore. His eyes darted to the sore area that was already red and starting to swell. 

His jaw clenched as he let out a long sigh, hanging in head in exhaustion and shame, “I’m…I’m okay.”

Tommy hesitated for a moment before gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “let me take you and Ellie home.”

“But-”

“Please?” he asked softly, offering you a pointed look. You realized what he was trying to convey and nodded before letting him lead you away, “I’ll be right back, big brother.”

You cast one last look at Joel but he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Your heart broke a little bit, but you kept repeating to yourself that everything would be alright. This was just a small bump in the road.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you woke up the following morning, you found yourself alone in bed, Joel’s side still made up and cold. He hadn’t come to bed. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes before putting on your slippers and padding down the hall. You poked your head into Ellie’s bedroom and found the girl fast asleep still; at least she was getting some rest. 

You decided to start a pot of coffee and made your way to the kitchen; when you stepped inside you found him sitting at the table and staring at his hands. You relaxed ever so slightly when you realized he was home…but something was definitely still going on. 

“Joel?” you’d been so quiet that he hadn’t heard you come in, but his head snapped up and looked at you, “h-hey, my love.”

He inhaled shakily before looking you over, his entire face turning into a grimace at the angry haze of bruising on your arm. You realized what he was looking at and moved to tuck your arm behind your back. 

“I hurt you,” was all he managed to see before you could see that his eyes were glistening with tears. You took a few steps closer and shook your head fervently, but he recoiled from you, “I did that to you.”

“No,” the fact that he tried to shy away from you didn’t stop you from getting closer, “you didn’t hurt me - that wasn’t you.”

“It was me,” gingerly, he reached for your hand and pulled out your arm so he could look it over properly. In between the marks you could see the fingerprints etched in there, “if it wasn’t me, who did this to you?”

“Baby-”

“I hurt you,” he repeated, “all because I couldn’t handle the sound of some fuckin’ fireworks.”

“Stop,” you crouched down so you could look up at him since he refused to do so, “please. It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t blame you for this. No one should - it was an unfortunate thing but it’s over and done with this and this bruising will heal and go away. But I am never going away, and if you think this one little thing will do that, then you don’t know me very well.”

“I had no control over what happened,” he was willing to concede at least that much, “and that’s what scares me. What if it happens again? What if it gets even worse the next time? What if-”

“Joel,” you reached up and put your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “you can’t think like that. It’s not healthy….just because it happened once doesn’t mean it will happen again. And, if for some reason it does, we’ll take it one day at a time.”

He reached up and gently removed your hand from his face, causing you to frown deeply, “I can’t trust myself around you. If anything ever happened to you or to Ellie, I would never forgive myself.”

“Joel-”

“I need some air,” he stood up and gently brushed past you, walking outside and into the backyard. You remained rooted in your spot, but sighed heavily, blinking back the tears that threatened to well up. 

Things would be okay, you knew they would…they had to be. Right? Right.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was still with you, but you could slowly see him growing more and more distant as the days wore on. Despite your reassurances that you were okay, and you still loved him more than anything, it was like he became a shell of his former self. And it wasn’t just with you, which was a bit of reassurance that it wasn’t just you, but it was with everyone. You wished there was something you could do that would easily get him back to his former self. Just as your arm grew better and less bruised, he continued to pull away and create a barrier between the two of you. 

One late night, as you laid in bed reading due to your inability to sleep, Joel came in and slowly closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. When he cleared his throat, you looked up and saw a serious expression on his face. He looked just as tired as you felt. 

“What’s up?” you asked softly as you closed your book and gently set it to the side. He remained silent for a few moments, clearly searching for the right words. Once a few moments of tense silence passed he finally looked at you, "hmm?"

"I've been thinkin'," he shoved his hands into pockets. You sat up straighter and tried to push down the nagging feeling that was already forming in your tummy, "and I think it's best…I should go."

"Go?" You parroted, not fully understanding what he was talking about, "what do you mean, Joel?"

"Go," he waved his hand around, "I don't think I should be here with you and Ellie anymore."

"Oh. Oh," you frowned at him, "so you're just going to up and leave."

"Baby, I - it's not like that," he insisted softly but you weren't just about to let him go. Not that easily, "this is what's best."

You scoffed at him, not even bothering to hide your disappointment, "that's what's best, huh? For who? For who is it best? You?"

"Best for everyone."

"Well that is just a straight up lie," you got out of bed and walked over to him, crossing your arms over his chest, "its not what's best for me at all. Or Ellie."

"Baby," it was softer and much more gentle, and almost resigned in a way.

"Listen - this time I need you to listen to me," you stood in front of him, firm and tall, "this has been going on for weeks now and I'm not just going to let you keep continuing on like this."

"I just…I wouldn't forgive myself if I ever did anything to you or hurt you in any way possible," you could see his Adam's apple bobbing, "its already hard enough knowing that I did." 

"Look," you pulled back the sleeve of your sweater and held up your arm. When he refused to acknowledge what you were doing you kept a cool and even tone, "look at me."

Reluctantly he allowed himself to look at your arm, at the place he had once hurt you. Your arm was back to normal and no remnants of what had once happened. He wrapped his fingers gingerly around your wrist as he tenderly turned your arm to get a better look at it. 

"There's nothing there," you pointed out softly, "and it doesn't hurt at all. I don't think about it anymore and I don't…I never blamed you and I was never scared of you."

"You're saying that now…but what if it happens again?" You could see the genuine concern in his eyes as you reached up and gently touched his face. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, something he'd denied himself for what seemed like an eternity by that point.

"If it does, we'll figure it out," you meant every word you said and you hoped he knew that, "Joel, life isn't always easy and it's not always fun. But just because one hard or bad thing happened doesn't mean I'm just going to walk away. That's not who we are and that's not what we do. I'm with you forever and nothing is going to change that."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, in search of the right thing to say. Instead of verbalizing all that he was feeling, he bowed his head and pressed his forehead to yours.

"If it was me that happened to and I hurt you, would you want me to just leave?" You asked softly and you could feel the shake of his head.

"Of course not," he insisted, "it wouldn't…it would have been an accident."

"Exactly," you whispered, "how do you think I feel about you? I'm not going to let you just go. Not without a fight."

"Really?"

"Of course," you took his face in your hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, "I love you, silly man. Nothing is ever going to change that. We'll be together through the good and the bad, through thick and thin. All of it."

And that was what seemed to break him. You could hear him sniffle lightly before a few tears rolled down his cheek. You gently brushed them away before making a small sound of reassurance at him. 

"I love you, baby," he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his warm, soft body. You felt him relax into your touch as you looped your arms around his shoulders and tucked yourself into his body as best as possible. You could tell that he needed this just as much as you did; he was practically melting into your body, "so much."

"I love you," it was a sentiment whispered in his ear so only he could hear it,"so, so much my love."

"When I hurt you I just…I got so worried."

"It's understandable," you insisted, "anyone would feel that way. But I want you to also understand that I love you and that nothing is ever going to change that."

"I know," a huff of laughter escaped him, "I've always known that."

"Good," you gave him the beaming smile that he still managed to fall in with over and over again, "because I've always known that you love me too. I can't promise everything, but I can promise you one thing."

"What's that?" He trailed his fingers against your jaw.

"That we'll always be together," you pressed kisses to both of his cheeks, "and we'll get through anything. And that I will always love you."

"That's three things," he teased, a glimpse of his true self coming though.

"Joel!" You were laughing though and he loved that sound, "get the sentiment though."

"I do," he agreed gently, "I love you."

"I love you too, Joel Miller."

[cottonlemonade]

Hi hi!! I saw your lemonade stand and I LOVE the concept omg. Can I request a medium watermelon lemonade with pomegranate seeds for Asahi?

Thank you so much if you write it !! I hope you have a great day 🩷

Sharing A Tent With His Crush

word count: 1926 || avg. reading time: 8 mins.

pairing: Asahi x chubby manager!Reader

genre: fluff with spice

warning: mdni, spoilers

request: fluffy-spicy, sharing a tent with pining friend Asahi

“One, two, three, four…”

As Takeda counted in the background, Coach Ukai studied his clipboard, listening with a content smile to the hollering and laughter that was carried up from the beach by an easy sea breeze. The kids were off swimming and building sandcastles and trenches, enjoying their hard earned freedom after weeks of studying and practices.

“Oh no.”

Ukai turned to the teacher.

“What is it, Sensei?”

“Oh nononono - no!”

“What? Did we forget a cooler? What?”

“We are one tent short!”

“What?!”, Ukai’s booming yell made some birds fly out of a tree top, “I double checked it! Are you sure?”

The men stood shoulder to shoulder, counting. Again. And again. But even after the fifth time, Ukai had to admit his mistake.

“What are we gonna do?”, Takeda asked, panic rising in his voice.

“We just… gotta rethink logistics.”, Ukai said, grabbing the clipboard once more and flipping to the page of the sleeping arrangements.

One of the boys was supposed to sleep alone anyway. And one of the girls, too, because both numbers were uneven.

“Maybe we can squeeze Nishinoya, Hinata and Yamaguchi into one and then have y/n take the free boys’ tent.”

“Sensei, we can’t just sort them by size. I think… hm, y/n is a third year. If we put her with one of the other third years they should have the presence of mind not to try any funny business. The first years won’t get a wink of sleep having a girl so close to them at night and the second years are as girl-crazy as they come.”

“How about Sugawara then?”

“Don’t be too trusting, Sensei. I don’t think he is as innocent as he seems.”, Ukai said with a frown, “And Sawamura might do something without even realizing he is flirting. - I hate to say it but … Azumane will be too chicken to even go near her. I think he is our best bet.”

Asahi went pale when the news broke over dinner. He looked at you and was quite relieved to see you equally as shocked.

“It‘s just for one night.“, Ukai said quickly, “Not a big deal.“

Both the ace and third manager would very much beg to differ but the coach already made his way back to Takeda and his plate of chicken.

“No big deal.“, you repeated under your breath.

“No big deal.“, Asahi agreed.

It was, in fact, a big deal to Asahi. He didn‘t know exactly when he started to be hopelessly in love with you but if he had to take a guess, it was probably somewhere around the time when he noticed all of his sketches and doodles of various outfits becoming chubbier until they eventually matched your figure. Skirts for a lovely Sunday date, pantsuits for eventually kicking butt at an office where you undoubtedly would end up as CEO sooner or later, dresses for imaginary galas you‘d attend and even an elaborate gown for a daydream of a royal ball he had during a boring physics lesson. (He also came up with his own outfit for that occasion to match you.)

Noya was the only one he confided in. The libero had sworn on his honor to never hit on you and ever since tried to push his best friend to make a move before graduating and possibly losing sight of you. And after much pushing and pestering and strategizing, Asahi, under threat of violence, had agreed to confess his feelings before graduation - as an out, Asahi didn’t tell his friend that he hadn’t actually specified whether it was graduating high school or university so he still had time either way.

After dinner the team gathered around a bonfire to roast marshmallows and make up completely ridiculous, yet confident, remarks about constellations in the clear night sky.

Asahi was torn between wanting to play for time until curfew or savor every second of the increasingly appealing mishap - to share a tent, all night, alone, side by side with his crush.

But of course, as with every good beach episode, there had to be a game of truth or dare involved.

Daichi was forced to admit that he was deadly scared of mice, Hinata had to sit still for a whole minute and, in the meantime, Tsukki was dared to not insult him once. It was fun until Noya turned to you and the glint in his eyes made you gulp.

“So, y/n-san. Truth or dare?”

Quite frankly, both of these were dangerous coming from him but maybe truth wouldn’t be so bad.

Noya gave a victorious grin.

“Who, of the people here, do you have a crush on?”

Asahi wasn’t sure if it was the light of fire that made your cheeks look so pink. His heart quickened. You stammered, kneading your fingers in your lap.

“Alright everyone.”, Daichi said when an alarm went off on his phone, “Let’s get to bed. Lights out in 15 minutes.”

Noya groaned and began to argue but one look from the captain had him crumble. So instead, he and Tanaka pushed each other out of the way, eager to be the one to accompany Kiyoko the few steps to the tent she shared with Yaachi.

Suga and Daichi gave Asahi a nondescript nod Goodnight before heading to bed themselves.

It was quite miraculous, you thought, how Asahi’s massively tall frame could fit next to you, when your plump form occupied a good part of the truly pathetically crammed tent already.

You sat cross legged on your sleeping bag, in your pyjama shorts and oversized t-shirt. Given the sleeping arrangements you decided to keep wearing a bra.

“Just for one night, right?”, you said in a (failed) attempt to make your voice sound light and airy.

You pumped some oil into the palm of your hand before running your fingers through your hair. The pleasant smell filled the tent. You caught his eyes and smiled, then both of you looked away again. The atmosphere was somewhat stiff, even though you’ve been on friendly terms with the fellow third years ever since you switched over from the Sewing Club about a year ago.

“Do you think-“

“So what would you-“

You said at the same time and broke off, laughing awkwardly.

“You first.”, he said.

“Do you think it’s okay if we keep on a light?”, you asked.

“Sure. Do you have one? Cause otherwise, I brought-” Asahi reached for his backpack and so did you.

After a moment’s rummaging you produced a small panda bear figure and turned to see a thing in his hand that looked suspiciously like a round little rabbit with a leaf umbrella.

“Is that… is that the official Totoro night light with 8 different color options and dimming function??”

Asahi nodded and you clasped your hands in delight, leaning closer to inspect it as he held it out to you. You let out a small gasp. This was one of the best night lights on the market right now after all!

“I wanted one of those for ages! But they're always sold out! How did you get it?”

“I set myself an alert for when they’re back in stock.”

He basked in your impressed “Ohhhh” and a few minutes later you both lay on your stomachs, looking at the two soft glowing figures in front of you.

Outside the tent, Ukai nodded approvingly on his last checkup before turning in himself in the room he shared with Takeda in a guesthouse on the border of the camping grounds.

“What was your question?”

“Hm?”, Asahi turned to look at you.

“Earlier when I asked you about the light. You wanted to say something as well. What was it?”

“Oh, not important.”, he said and moved the Totoro night light a little closer to your panda.

“Come on, I wanna know.”, you lightly pushed his leg with your foot to encourage him.

“I was just… I-i was wondering what you would have said if Daichi’s alarm hadn’t gone off.”, he mumbled.

“When? Oh, the game. Uhm.” The pink from earlier returned to your cheeks. Now would be as good a time as any, you thought and after a deep breath you replied, “You.”

Stupidly, Asahi rolled around to check if there was someone else behind him in the tiny tent before moving his attention back to you.

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”, you laughed.

“I- I don't know what to say.”, Asahi stammered.

You regarded him with a thoughtful smile, still somewhat hopeful that what Kiyoko and Suga told you was right.

“Well, you could tell me if you feel the same or not, maybe?”

“Oh right! Yes!”, he said, much louder than intended and ducked his head a moment later, “Yes, I do like you. A lot.”

You beamed at him.

“Nice.”

The following giggles were suppressed in your respective pillows.

When you came back up for air he brushed a few loose strands of hair out of his face and cleared his throat, “Would you like to go out with me once we’re back?”

“I’d love to.”

“Great.”

You both looked at each other, unsure of what to do next.

“So…”, you began, weighing your words carefully, “Do you wanna make out?”

If Asahi had been drinking water, he would have choked on it. His face immediately turned bright red and he needed a minute to put a coherent word together. You waited patiently.

“Yes.”, he croaked eventually.

He didn’t move.

“I’ll be right there.”, he assured you, his voice and face still not quite back to normal.

“That’s alright.”

Asahi’s eyes widened when you scooted closer and your noses almost touched.

“Hi.”

“H-hello.”

It started out with a peck. You pulled back to check if he had any objections but you didn’t get very far. His lips followed yours as if magnetic. He sighed into the kiss and your smile widened if possible even further. His large hand came to rest on your waist and you slotted your leg between his. The kiss soon became open mouthed, your tongue slipping back and forth to test the waters.

You hummed happily against him, making him squeeze your pillowy hips. He was losing his mind. How could one person feel this good? Your hand brushed down his muscular arm to lay on top of his and began to move it. He was so engrossed in your taste that he didn’t notice until he cupped your breast.

“Y/n…”, he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. He stared at his hand, how it went up and down along with your panting. You, in turn, felt him throb against your thigh that was pushed between his legs.

Your chubby fingers closed around his much larger hand, easing him into the idea that he was free to touch you.

“Y/n…”, he whispered again and was met with your lips on his once more. He had never been drunk before but he was sure this was exactly what it must feel like.

Asahi groaned into your mouth when his palm pressed against your hardened nipple, pushing through the fabrics.

____________________

Picking up a piece of omelet with his chopsticks the next morning, Asahi grinned down at his bowl of rice like an idiot. You sat right next to him, so close that your heavenly thighs touched his, just as dazed from the previous night.

Tsukki frowned and said to no one in particular, but loud enough for you to hear, “Do they realize that tents aren’t soundproof?”

a/n: this one got so away from me xD thank you for your request and your kind words! I hope you enjoy it 🌟

Also I apologize for being so inactive. It’s a mixture of writer’s block, summer heat and a twisted back 🥲

[fen-luciel]

The mistakes of a Acolyte

2

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him

The initial idea was to despair, cry, and pack my bags to flee, but none of this made sense. It was like being immobilized in time and space; maybe I had imagined everything, fallen asleep on the couch as I often did, the nightmares that accompanied me had become more fanciful and seemed real, but time was passing, and it was getting dark outside, it was obvious that even nightmares didn't last that long.

I moved in search of something to do, and the desire to eat became strong, so I opted to cook something while I thought about myself, the Jedi, and Qimir... it had been foolish of me to think I could escape. That no one would find me. And this pregnancy was sapping all my strength, if before I had been confident in my survival skills, now I doubted them. It was already a miracle that I could walk five meters without feeling exhausted, fighting was impossible. I had already admitted some of my activities to the Jedi, but it was obvious that as long as the target was Qimir, I would seem almost innocent in their eyes.

Yet... he was still looking for me. I was sure of it. Maybe the fact that the photo was still in the same condition was a sign... negative or positive, I couldn't say.

I finished preparing something for dinner and turned on the holonet, even though I didn't pay much attention to it.

I had to decide what to do, carefully plan all my next moves, the lies, the escape.

I tried to swallow another bite, but a sob stopped me. It had taken me a month to decide what to do with my life, how to escape and live peacefully after everything we had done in these years, and now I had less than twelve hours to come up with anything to do. I couldn't let the Jedi take me away, someone in the Order could recognize me, or recognize my voice, they would feel my signature in the Force, anything could betray me, or worse, they could take my child away once born and throw me in prison, the mere idea terrified me.

Tears fell into the plate as I tried to stifle another sob. At this point, maybe it was better to return to Qimir and ask for his forgiveness, maybe he would refrain from killing me at least while I was pregnant with his child, even though nothing would stop him from killing me afterward. I had betrayed him. I had led him to this, to what he was now, and then I had abandoned him. I had been a fool, I had seen all the signs that the situation was slipping out of my hands and now that I no longer had control, from perpetrator I had become the victim.

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my pajamas before forcing myself to finish the plate, walking around the house like a ghost, someone who had already been condemned to death and had accepted it.

In the bathroom, I changed into something softer and looked at myself in the mirror, I was ashamed of myself, my completely tattooed arms were witnesses of my victories and a black map on the skin that I had decided to form over time to describe my path, yet now they seemed like the whims of a rebellious child. They clashed on the body I had, sure the muscles were still there, it had been too little time to lose them, but my big belly was a huge beacon in the middle. I no longer recognized myself in my skin, I was a symbol of death, but in the mirror, I looked like just a failed mother. The bags under my eyes, the tired look, the condition of my hair, everything, it was terrible. I would never be able to escape from anyone, and at that moment I realized it more than ever.

Reaching the bedroom, I immediately lay down under the covers, the mattress was divine for my back, and despite the anxiety, I fell asleep early anyway.

Opening my eyes, the first thing I saw was a sea of green. I was in a forest in the middle of the night, maybe... a jungle or worse, I had never seen such trees. I jumped up, feeling a piercing cold in my bones, immediately recognizing the presence hiding inside. "Qimir?" I called out with a trembling voice. If I could feel him, he could feel me, it was useless to hide.

"Darling" his voice behind me made me turn quickly, and finally, I saw him. The man I had run away from five months earlier and hoped never to see again, injured, tired, and dirty... our minds had reconnected after I had severed the bond, this shouldn't have been possible.

"My love, you are as beautiful as ever" he addressed me with that gentle smile I had learned to love, even at that moment despite the fear, that look warmed my heart. "Am I perhaps going mad dreaming of you pregnant?"

He approached me, but I didn't have the courage to move, he hadn't noticed that our bond had reformed? Did he think it was a dream? Maybe hiding my presence made me intangible even in the connection, making him believe he was dreaming.

I pressed my lips together before taking a step forward and pushing myself into his arms, I couldn't smell or feel his warmth, but I could imagine it from the vivid memories I still carried. "Qimir..." the words got stuck in my throat, I wanted to say so much, to vent even just the last few hours, but I risked making him understand too much, that something was wrong and if he found out it was really me... and I was pregnant... "I miss you so much, darling. I was so furious when you disappeared, I'm looking for you everywhere. And when I find you..." he squeezed my arms tightly before pulling me away a few centimeters, our faces brushing as his eyes scrutinized me deeply, and I could perceive the anger behind them. "I will punish you for leaving me, my love. And when we have solved this problem, we will continue our plan, you will be proud of me, when you discover how much I have done in these months" my heart pounded in my chest, here was that side of him that terrified me, I tried to free myself, but he squeezed my arms even tighter. "But look at you, trying to run away from me even in my dreams" the smile he gave me was terrifying, the kind of grin he used when facing an enemy, the one he had started to use on me when... "Qimir you're hurting me-" I gasped, feeling trapped, this was too much, if he realized I was more tangible than usual... I had to wake up.

He instead pulled me back against his chest before kissing me forcefully, the touch of his lips on mine was familiar, I couldn't help but let out a moan at the gesture, despite my reluctance, my body desired him more than my mind. "When I find you, maybe I should really make you pregnant, we would be a nice family, the sweet mother of my children" he whispered on my lips, I squirmed even more and luckily as soon as I freed myself from his grip, I woke up.

Outside, the first lights of dawn were peeking into the room, my heart was racing, getting up quickly, a pain in my arms made me hiss. Despite the numerous black tattoos covering my arms, bruises could be seen on the skin, the marks of Qimir's fingers that had managed to mark me even galaxies away, almost proving he was becoming stronger in the Force.

I stood up and took a quick shower, by then I was too scared to fall asleep again, I put on comfortable clothes and went to make myself something for breakfast.

It was only after eating that I felt the need to check my things. In the bedroom, hidden in a hole I had created in the closet, a box held the few personal items I had brought with me. Opening it, everything was as I had left it, my rolled-up clothes, my photo of me and Qimir along with others from my childhood, and my lightsaber. I looked at everything for a few minutes, the idea was to also put the photo of Qimir among these, but I didn't want the Jedi to request it and find me with my hands on it. Yet the idea of letting go of this memory to them burned my stomach even more than the fear of getting caught.

I put everything back, walking around with a lightsaber wasn't a smart move now, I had to convince the Jedi to leave me alone quickly, despite not liking the idea, if they were after Qimir, he was too busy fighting them to look for me, and maybe I had more time to find an even more distant place to hide.

It was around eight that someone knocked at my door, I took a deep breath before opening it, expecting to see the two Jedi, but in front of me was Yord. Alone. "Hey... did you come to continue the conversation from yesterday? Where's Sol?" I said, quickly looking down the hallway. "Hey good morning, no I... wanted to see how you were doing. Yesterday we stressed you out a lot, and I wanted to make sure you were okay" *or that you hadn't run away*, but I kept the thought to myself.

"I'm fine, I went to bed a bit late, but I've had worse hours" I tried to joke, showing him a smile, but it was obvious he wasn't convinced by my act. "Yeah, well if it makes you feel better, we're making sure no one suspicious followed us," I moved aside to let him in and realized he had a bag with him.

He sat at the counter before pulling out several paper bags, the smell of sugar was unmistakable. "I brought some things to apologize for my presence at this hour, you need to rest, and I was afraid you were still sleeping" Approaching the counter, I could see the various sweets he had chosen, among the different creams and pastries. "I don't know what you like, so I practically took every kind of sweet, and... and maybe you like salty food" he said as if struck by lightning. "Sorry, I didn't think of that—" but he stopped when he heard my laugh. "It's all okay, Yord. I like sweets" I said, reaching him and sitting on the chair opposite his. "You really didn't have to—" "But I wanted to" he interrupted immediately before giving me a small smile.

For a moment, it seemed like I was seeing Qimir again, yet despite the same mischief in his eyes, it was evident that Yord didn't have the same dark side; his smile was genuinely playful.

He took the cutlery and juice as if he was already accustomed to the kitchen, which made me giggle again. "You move around my kitchen better than I do" he replied with a smile before sitting down, the sweets in front of us ready to be eaten. "Well, I struggled yesterday to figure out where to put some things, so I actually opened the cupboards a million times." I laughed again while taking the first bite of cake. I had just had breakfast, but whether it was the pregnancy or the nerves, I was more than ready to eat everything he had brought.

"So..." he began, glancing at me nervously, "if you have something to ask, do it. I already said I would cooperate." I gave him an encouraging smile even though the irritation burned at the back of my throat. "No, actually, I wanted to ask you something more... personal." He waited a few seconds, expecting a negative response, but I was more curious than I wanted to admit and nodded for him to continue. "You and him... Qimir. You know, I met him a couple of times and... he managed to deceive me the first time. We met again a few days ago on a sparsely populated planet. We unmasked him and found him standing in front of us..." I listened in silence, taking in all the information I could passively. Some questions would have been too suspicious and not in line with the story of the love-blind girl I had built around myself. "It's a really bothersome question, but I couldn't stop thinking about it all night. You told us you knew he was a Sith. Even if you didn't know exactly what it meant, being so close to him, you must have seen that... something much worse was hiding beneath the surface, right?" The grimace he gave me was sad, almost pained, and I took a deep breath before answering him.

"As I already told you, I'm not a completely innocent girl. I'm used to meeting more dangerous people even though I've always kept my distance." He responded with a tight smile, "Yes, but you were a thief. Or at most, you smuggled stuff. He... he slaughtered half of our team without blink an eye. He's not just a man with an illegal job. He's a murderer. That's what he does best."

Of course, the truth was complex. I remembered well the first time I met him. Liars recognize each other, and we both knew from the first moment that the other was hiding more than just stolen items.

"At first, I didn't suspect anything. He always told me he did dangerous business, so I took it for granted that he knew how to handle unpleasant situations." I cleared my throat, looking intently at the plate in front of me.

I could feel Yord's eyes on me, and the sensation made me move uncomfortably in my chair. "When he opened up more and more, he confided in me that he had been trained by someone, that he had done much more difficult jobs than he had told me in the past, and that... he had hurt many people." I forced a smile before finally managing to look him in the eyes. "I know it sounds stupid, but words aren't enough to help you imagine actions like these. He had warned me, but I didn't really understand how dangerous he was." I took a sip of juice.

"He made me feel safe. He protected me... I trusted him" I continued, perhaps voicing one of the most sincere statements about what I had experienced and felt for Qimir.

Yord remained silent as he finished one of the slices of cake he had brought, wiped his mouth, and cleared his throat. "I’m probably speaking out of turn, as a Jedi, I’ve never been able to form a bond beyond the Order or even think about falling in love" he gave me a forced and slightly embarrassed smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

"And if you could? If you found the woman of your life, wouldn’t you leave everything to live a happy life?"

The silence that followed was perhaps the best of the last twenty-four hours. Yord was clearly uncomfortable with the question, but from the lost look he gave me, I understood he was seriously thinking about it. "I... I’ve sacrificed a lot to be a Jedi Knight. I was never a good student and... I took the trials several times before passing them" he cleared his throat for a moment, "it would be crazy to leave now that I’ve made it, I have a Padawan and... and..." he glanced at me quickly, his gaze settled on my belly and then returned to his plate. "I don’t know. If someone like Qimir can fall in love and make a woman happy, then maybe it’s worth it."

He gave me a gentle smile, but I couldn’t return it.

Gentle? No, Qimir was many things but not gentle by nature, definitely manipulative. Looking back, perhaps he managed to hurt me more with the kind gestures... which I allowed like a fool.

"He treated you well... right?" Yord’s voice woke me from my thoughts, I realized how he was looking at me, I had taken too long to respond and now there was doubt in his eyes.

Great job, idiot.

"Yes, yes, as I said, he made me feel good. It’s just that he wasn’t ready for a family, let’s say," his gaze became more intense, and the thought that he didn’t believe me lingered in the air.

"Yesterday you told us you were afraid of his reaction. Were you afraid he would react violently?" I hurried to shake my head, "No, no, it’s just that I thought he wouldn’t stop being a smuggler, not even for a child. He just wasn’t ready—" "But you preferred to run away without telling him anything. What were you afraid of then?"

The forced smile I had maintained disappeared completely. I put myself in a corner, again.

"I..." I took a deep breath to buy time, but I was only making things worse, "Sabrina, if there’s anything else you can tell me, do it, if something is bothering you, we’re here for you too."

My heart was pounding in my chest, I felt like a fool, I had managed to survive with worse lies than these, years of anonymity right under everyone’s nose, and now when I was asked something more personal, my brain was turning to mush.

I realized how this story had only reopened a wound that had never healed and perhaps had been bleeding for years.

It was easy to play when you were the predator, and it was fun as the prey, but like this? Caught between two fires you didn’t want to be part of but couldn’t choose between?

There was only one answer.

A half-truth. A half-lie.

[achilles-rage]

thirteen crows: chapter three

summary: buck makes you dinner, and then your regulars see first hand how work has been going for you lately.

word count: 2.7k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i am SO SORRY this took so long. i want to write so bad and i have so many ideas but i can't force myself to write. the seasonal depression is kicking in i fear<33 also i finally get to watch episode 3 of season 8 tonight. will be writing a drabble for motorcycle buck i know it. anyway, enjoy<33

warnings: slight body shaming, mentions of stalking (cute<3), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

The other night at work, Buck spilled his full glass of beer all over the counter and floor, and although you kept trying to tell him that mistakes happen, he insisted on having you over to his house and cooking you dinner. While you were a little upset about the mess you had to clean up, you laughed until you couldn’t breathe when it happened.

He made such a mess, and his actions looked so dramatic that it almost looked fake. His defeated expression and sheepish shrug as he slowly raised his eyes to look at you over the counter added to the hilarity, and you could hardly be mad when he offered so many times to help clean up his mess.

So, now, here you are. Buck is cooking in front of you, while at the same time trying to show off his bartender skills he learned when he was in Peru, and it’s not going well. He insisted on having you over to make up for the incident, just wanting an excuse to see you outside of work, and he’s glad you said yes. He knew you would. And you’ve been to his house enough times to know that he’s skilled in the kitchen, but the added stress of trying to remember all his training is clearly getting to him as your big, sparkling eyes study his every movement.

Something smells like it’s burning, he’s spilt salt all over the counter and floor while trying to make you a margarita, and he was supposed to add the chopped veggies 10 minutes ago, which are still sitting on the cutting board, unchopped.

“I really don’t mind helping.” you tell him with a laugh. Your cheeks hurt from laughing so much at his antics, and you forgave him almost immediately, so this is completely unnecessary.

“I told you I got it. Come on, I’ve got everything under control.” he tells you nonchalantly. Just as he finishes his sentence, his smoke alarm goes off, and you both jump. 

You stand up abruptly, grabbing the dish towel on the counter as he takes the pan off the stove and turns off the burner.You stand under the smoke detector and wave the towel in front of it, hoping to shut it off before the entire building has to be evacuated. 

Once the smoke detector has stopped blaring and everything is back under control, you sit back down at the kitchen island, trying not to laugh as Buck turns to you with a defeated look.

“Can you grab my phone from the coffee table?” he asks you in a sweet voice, and you nod, immediately getting up and moving to the living room.

“Did you realize you actually do need a recipe?” you tease as you hear pots and pans banging around the kitchen behind you. You assume he’s going to try again, and it makes your heart swell. You’d never dare say anything out loud, but you have a little crush on Buck. It’s normal, sure, but you feel guilty because you also have the same feelings for Eddie. 

They flirt with you all the time, yeah, but they’re your work regulars. And either way, you’re not sure that either one of them actually sees you like that.

“No, I’m ordering a pizza. You’re too high maintenance to cook for.” he teases as you turn around. You scoff, laughing slightly at his words and narrowing your eyes. You shove his phone at him once you’re close enough, sinking back onto the chair with a huff. 

He smirks at your feigned anger, licking his lips as his eyes trail your body conspicuously. He’s used to seeing you at the bar, wearing some sort of outfit that he’s sure you’re only wearing to make tips. He’s seen you outside of work, not that you know that, and he knows you usually don’t wear miniskirts like the one he and Eddie talk about a little too often. 

It’s nice to see you more relaxed outside of work up close though, not bothering to dress up too much. You’re wearing jeans tonight, which still show off your ass in a way that has Buck groaning to himself, but you’re clearly comfortable enough around him to let your guard down. 

While it warms his heart, he can’t help but think about taking that comfort from you completely.

He loves seeing how quickly someone’s face can switch from calm to frightened when he and Eddie hunt, and he’s definitely fantasized about how pretty you’d look when your eyes widen in fear more than once to lull himself to sleep.

One minute you’d be laughing at something he said, body angled towards his and your movements loose and relaxed, and the next you’d be looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, lip quivering as you back yourself into a corner, just begging to be devoured.

“You’re the one that insisted I come over so you can ‘make it up to me.’ I told you you didn’t need to do that.” you tell him, rolling your eyes. His tone is still playful, so you know he’s not actually blaming you, but you still feel a little bad that he wasted all this time for nothing.

“And I told you that I need to make it up to my favourite girl. It’s not every day I find someone who gives me free beers when the manager isn’t around.” he teases, winking at you from across the kitchen island. Your cheeks heat up at his words, and your eyes dart down to the margarita sitting in front of you. He and Eddie flirt with you all the time, but Buck referring to you as his girl makes your head spin.

“Alright, pizza’s ordered. Let’s go sit on the couch while we wait.” he says after a minute or two, setting his phone down on the counter. You nod, getting up and following him to the living room.

You talk for a few minutes, the news playing on the tv in the background, but when a reporter begins to speak, Buck’s attention turns to the tv. Your gaze moves to the tv as well, curious to see what’s gotten Buck’s attention, when you see the video of the two masked men that have been terrorizing your city. 

It’s the same video you talked about with Grace, Afsah, and Cass, as no one else has managed to get them on video. The reporter talks about yet another body being found a few blocks from you, and a shiver rolls down your spine. At the same time, however, you can’t help but think about how Grace and Afsah talked about the two men. 

Your throat goes dry as the video plays in slow motion on the screen, and you can’t help but stare at the outline of the men. They’re very clearly tall and built, and although they’re wearing long sleeves, their biceps looking fucking incredible. 

Your focus is solely on the screen as the video plays a few times, your body betraying your brain that’s telling you not to think the way you are. You squeeze your thighs together subconsciously and chew on your bottom lip, eagerly studying their forms as they move.

Buck notices this, and he smirks to himself as he leans back against the couch, legs spread enough for his leg to touch yours. He imagines you eagerly accepting his advances; how desperate you’d be for his mouth, and his fingers, and his cock. He imagines pushing you back onto the couch and sucking and nipping at your neck while you give him half assed protests, even though you both know how much you want him. It’s clear by how you reacted to the video, even if you don’t know it yet.

He has a smug expression on his face when you finally turn back to him, not that you notice in your daze. You’re clearly embarrassed about how you were staring at the tv, and he can’t wait to wear you down until you’re unabashedly begging on your knees to please him with that pretty little mouth.

He can’t wait to tell Eddie about this; he knows he’ll be just as thrilled about it as him. And he knows that Eddie will agree with him; they need you all to themselves, sooner rather than later.

You roll your eyes when you hear Grace’s loud giggle over the football game, keeping your face down in order to hide your annoyance from the two men sitting across the counter from you.

Ever since you hung out with her a few nights ago, she’s been increasingly passive aggressive to you, and you can’t understand why. It’s little comments every now and then about your body, or how your mascara has started to smudge during your long shift, or that you’re not pouring various alcohols properly. Whatever that means.

While you were upset and confused at first, it’s grown into anger, although your eyes still look sad when you look at her across the bar. She’s been a good friend, and you can’t imagine why she could switch up so quickly.

She’s standing in front of a booth of men adorned with football jerseys, flirting and laughing with them. She’s refused to let you serve them all night, claiming that she’d be able to “bring in more tips,” and all you could do was huff and agree. 

You couldn’t help the jealousy bubbling up inside of you when you regulars walked in, and she tried to steal them from you as well. You watched with a raised brow as she greeted them with a wide smile, and you bit back a scoff as she leaned over the counter, making sure her chest was on display for them.

They shot her down quickly, of course, the sweet men that they are. They both looked at each other with confused expressions before they turned to you, waving you over to them with grins. You gave them a soft greeting before you began to pour their beer, feeling a little awkward as the little green monster jumped off of your shoulders and onto Grace’s, her watching you with raised brows.

“What’s going on with you tonight?” Eddie asks, both him and Buck picking up on the tension between you and Grace. Your eyes dart up to them, surprised that they noticed the eye roll you tried so desperately to hide. 

“Nothing. Just been a long night, I guess.” you tell them, trying to keep your voice light and lacking any hint of the feelings seeping out of you. You don’t want to turn it into a big thing, as much as it hurts you.

Their brows furrow at your response. Normally, you wouldn't miss the chance to rant to them about whatever’s going on in your pretty head. And it’s then that they realize just how much Grace’s words had affected you, and they know that something must be done about it. 

It’s clear to them that Grace is intimidated by you; not being used to having to share attention from men, and they almost laugh. You’re so unaware of your beauty that you think that you’ve done something wrong, and they can’t have that.

“Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?” Eddie speaks up after a moment of watching you furiously trying to scrub off a stain that’s been on the bar table as long as they’ve been coming into this shitty bar.

Your shoulders finally seem to deflate as you raise your gaze to meet Eddie’s, and he can see that you’re trying to fight back a smile as your gaze flickers from his eyes to his chest.

“Shut up.” is all you can bring yourself to say, but Buck is quick to shut you down. Both men want you to feel better. They want you to see yourself as the pretty little thing they do.

“I was just thinking that too. Absolutely gorgeous, baby.” he tells you, licking his lips as his eyes travel down your body.

Finally, your face breaks out into a wide grin, and you look down, laughing softly to yourself as you shake your head. They both glance at each other from the corner of their eyes, smiling smugly. There’s their pretty girl.

“What would I do without y-” is all you can say before Grace comes prancing back over to the bar, holding a fan of money in front of her face.

“Just got a $100 tip from those 6 guys. Said I’m the best server they’ve ever had.” The smiles drop from Buck and Eddie’s face as Grace’s voice trumps your sweet one, and they both roll their eyes when the smile they were finally able to get back onto your face drops along with theirs.

They know that you always work during football nights at the thirteen crows, and they’ve seen the service you give the men that usually attend. You always greet them with the same sickly-sweet smile, and while you’re always extremely nice, you’re not afraid to tease them and give them some attitude when the time is right.

You’re good at your job, they’ll give you that; you always know exactly how to make the men you serve laugh and smile, but it doesn’t mean they’re not jealous while they watch you. 

Even so, they know that you pride yourself on your customer service, and they never miss the way your smile gets just that little bit brighter when you know you’re doing a good job. They take note of the way you thrive on praise. 

They know that Grace is just saying this to make you upset. She wants to make you think that she’s better than you; that you can’t do what she can, which is seduce the male patrons just enough to get a bigger tip.

As you go back to your furious cleaning, barely even acknowledging their presence again, they both give each other knowing looks. They need to leave right now.

“Alright, it’s getting late. Got a shift in the morning.” Buck says, then downs the rest of his beer before standing up. Eddie murmurs an agreement as he matches Buck’s movements. They both pull out their wallets, then slide the money across the counter towards you. They see Grace’s eyes widen from beside you as she sees how much they’re tipping you, and they smirk. It’s what you deserve.

You give them a small smile, grabbing their money and putting what they owe into the cash register.

“I’ll see you soon?” you ask, looking between the two of them.

“Actually, we’re really busy the next week or so. Might not see us.” You frown at Eddie’s words, but nod slowly before you plaster a fake smile back onto your face. You mumble a quick goodbye as they start towards the door, and they almost turn back around when they hear Grace start explaining to you how she got all her tips tonight.

They stop themselves, though. They have to go. Now. Or else they’ll do something they’ll regret. They know Grace has to go; they know they have to take care of their precious girl, but they have to be careful.

They have to plan this. They need some time away from you, or they fear that you’ll make them act on a whim and they’ll get caught. They can’t have that. Not when they haven’t gotten their hands on you yet. Not without knowing how exactly you sound when you fall apart for them. They’ve heard it many times through the shitty speakers of their cameras, but they expect it’ll be all the better when they’re the reason for your pretty little moans.

They haven’t killed anyone that could be tied to them yet, not really. They know they’re heading into dangerous territory, but they can’t stop themselves. They’d do anything to make you smile again, and if getting rid of Grace will do that, then they’re more than happy to oblige.

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