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ticktokrobotsnot · 1 year ago

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Hurricane

This is part 1. You can read part 2 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: The upcoming bachelor party that Carmen has to cater causes some tension between him and y/n.

Word Count: 9.5k

warning: alcohol, mentions of throwing up out of nervousness but no one actually does, or even comes close, fighting, smoking

Three hundred thousand dollars, what kind of fucking moron takes out three hundred thousand dollars just to blow his brains out and let his younger brother foot the bill. What kind of cosmic douche does that to another person? Y/n would never say something like that out loud but she certainly was thinking it after Carmen told her about the debts that he apparently owes on top of the bills he had yet to pay. In fact, Carmen was barely scraping by, he cut his pay check till all he had was enough to cover rent and the bare bones necessities. Rather than cut anyone’s pay, or cheaping out on ingredients, he sacrificed almost everything for this restaurant, for his brother. And what did his brother leave him? A three hundred thousand dollar bill. Once again, what a dick.

“It’s not-” Carmen started. “It’s fixable.”

Y/n didn’t say anything, she continued to scrub the stop top and kept her face neutral when in reality her blood was boiling. It’s not her debt and she is completely free to run away before this ship sinks but she couldn’t help but stay. She had convinced herself that the reason she stayed was because this horrible and completely fucked restaurant was like a train wreak, you can't help but stand and watch it crash and burn. Definitely not because of any other personal reasons.

“We just have to keep our heads down and get through the year and we can get some money off of our tab.”

More silence.

They both knew it was a pipe dream, no matter what they did at the restaurant, they could only make an insignificant dent towards the impending debt. Y/n didn’t want to be negative when Carmen was doing his best to not crumble under the pressure so she looked up with a small smile. She wondered if the smile translated as an optimistic smile or a pity smile.

Carmen sighed, leaned against the wall and rubbed his face with his palms in an effort to wipe away some tension. Looks like it translated as a pity smile.

“Tell me something good, y/n.” Carmen mumbled through his hands.

It was like the words were lost in her mouth. What could she possibly say? What collection of words makes this shitty situation any better? The answer is none, sometimes words mean nothing. No amount of consoling or baseless optimism could make this situation look good. If you can’t make a shitty situation look good then you should at least make a shitty solution look good.

“At least you have those bachelor parties, you can knock off a few grand.” Y/n offered.

“Yeah,” Carmen agreed half-heartedly. Looks like she couldn’t make the shitty solution look good either. Y/n gave herself one more attempt to lighten the mood before she sewed her mouth shut, crawled into a hole and died.

“And let's not forget that your “loan shark” is your uncle and he won’t smash your kneecaps.” Y/n jokingly muttered, “Probably?”

Y/n heard Carmen exhale through his nose. Y/n lives to speak and live another day. After testing the waters for the past few months, y/n realized that in order to get Carmen to stop going into crisis mode she had to either talk about a solution or completely distract him.

“What's the payment situation going to be like? …What is the interest?”

“No …no interest, just a clean 300k.”

“That's fair, adding interest on a loan like that would be like throwing shit in a septic tank. When is the bachelor party?”

“Uncle Jimmy is coming by tomorrow to give the details for that stupid fucking party.”

One quality that has persisted through out the years was y/n ability to not know when to shut the fuck up. The trait was helpful when filling the silence between the both of them. Carmen liked to listen more than talk, he didn't have anything to talk about except depressing shit. So when the air was filled with anxiety and tension y/n did what she did best, make a damn fool of herself.

“You think there's going to be strippers?”

Carmen looked up from his hands and gave out a laugh out of shock and it sounded like music to y/n ears. She wished she could record it, he really did have a nice smile and she wished he smiled more. Good god, he looked so… so…

“There will be at least strippers.” Carmen snickered while hiding his smirk behind his hands. It's like he knew she was waiting for it and was depriving her on purpose. This was a good learning moment for y/n though, shock humor lands well with Carmen.

Y/n moved on to scrubbing the floor because she wasn’t able to look Carmen in the eyes after asking, “Have you ever been to a strip club?”

She didn’t even have to look up to know what kind of look she was getting. She heard a bewildered laugh and looked up and was met with an amazing view. His head was thrown back and his hand was running through his hair.

For a brief moment, y/n tried to convince herself that all of the embarrassment she put herself through wasn’t worth it but after stealing a few glimpses of him she could confidently say it most definitely was.

“No I haven’t. You?” He then straightened his head and grabbed a towel and started scrubbing too.

“Of course, I've been. I used to work in one, you know?” Carmen’s head shot up.

“Yeah, but I needed a career change.”

“You worked in one? As a… dancer?” Carmen asked not quite being able to tell if this was a joke or not.

“You call strippers “dancers”? What are you, 90? No, I was not a “dancer.” I was a bartender.”

“Hmm” Carmen pondered before adding, “I knew you couldn't be one, I saw you slip on air this morning.”

“My lack of coordination aside,” y/n rolled her eyes jokingly, “I spent a lot of time seeing the routines and stuff and I could never, I can barely run a mile let alone swing around on a pole. Those strippers are stronger and braver than the Marines.”

“I have a cousin in the Marines,” Carmen added while scrubbing a particularly tough stain.

“Tell him that he’s a little bitch.”

Carmen stopped scrubbing and gwaffed into his fist. On the outside she looked normal but inside she was scratching the skin off her face in joy. She really wanted to seal the deal.

“Would you ever be a stripper?”

3-0 favoring y/n because Carmen looked up at her and laughed, and not a reserved one. A full one with an open mouth and red face.

Holy fuck… what the fuck was she doing? She could be home right now rewatching a nature documentary to unwind. She should be asleep right now. It's 12am and here she is sitting with her boss on the floor counting how many times she can make him feel good. And the worst part? She was enjoying herself.

“I don’t think I would make a good one.” He said as he moved closer to y/n and scrubbed at another scuff mark.

He would make a great one, y/n thought. He has huge arms, a quiet but powerful persona, a sculpted face, and beautiful eyes. Y/n had to resist the impulse to say that she would throw all her money at him right this second.

“It's your eyes.” Y/n humorously pondered, “They’re too intense, am I going to get a lap dance or am I going to get into a long and meaningful relationship?”

Carmen's gaze lifted towards y/n, and she wrestled the urge to lock her gaze with his mesmerizing cerulean eyes. She wanted to etch into her memory the way the yellowing lights danced upon his irises, as they transitioned shades, but the flutters in her stomach were making her woozy.

Y/n was a coward, so unsurprisingly she looked away, but not before stupidly adding, “You could add a blindfold to your act, I bet that would make the girls go wild.”

What in the flying fuck was she talking about, y/n screamed in her head. Y/n had some nerve calling The Beef a train wreck when she was watching herself crash and burn and not being able to stop herself. It felt like an out of body experience, like she was watching someone else fuck up her life.

Carmen looked like he was thinking about something and y/n wondered if she would have the courage to pick up her last check after she got her ass fired.

“Judging by the amount of shit I have to deal with in this stupid fucking place, being a stripper is starting to look more and more…” Carmen stared at y/n for a split moment, “tempting.”

Y/n was glad that he had inadvertently stopped her from saying something really stupid but she needed a quiet place all to herself so she could squeal like a teenage girl.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, y/n was starting to notice how close they were and in order to stop herself from getting a sued for sexual harassment she forced herself to call it a night, and that was a tough call to make. Y/n smiled at Carmen before softly mummering, “Carmy, you’ve got a big day tomorrow why don’t we get you home?”

Carmen's posture straightened, and a slight haze seemed to veil his eyes. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand towards y/n. In the instant their palms met, a surge of thoughts flooded y/n's mind, realizing how deeply she would miss this touch once they released. The fleeting moment barely allowed her to relish the sensation, leaving her with only a passing recollection of his hand—warm, calloused, and undeniably strong.

After grabbing their stuff from the lockers, y/n glanced at her phone that showed 12:14am. The walk home was going to be a real bitch. Carmen did one last walk through before leaving. Y/n could have left after she got her stuff but she stayed for a bit longer. She leaned against the windows of The Beef watching Carmen leave the restaurant and lock the door. He didn't look a bit surprised at her still waiting for him, he knew she would always be there waiting. It was a tradition, they would close up and he would walk y/n to her car. He would wait till y/n car was completely out of sight before he climbed into his car and drove to his place.

“Where did you park your car?” Carmen asked while shuffling through his bag to find his own car keys.

“My car is at the shop, I'm going to walk home.”

“You're going to walk home after dark? It's like 1 in the morning?”

“It's 12:30 and it's not that big of a deal, and if I get tired I'll just uber the rest of the way home.”

“That's how people get kidnapped, y/n”

“Don't worry, even if I do get kidnapped, I'll still miraculously make it to work on time tomorrow, and I'll have an epic tale to share for years to come." Y/n joked. "Why don’t I walk you to your car for a change? Where did you park?"

Carmen hesitated, not because he didn't want to offer a ride but because he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. It's just a ride home, it's not like ridesharing amongst coworkers is something new.

“Let me drive you home. This is not a great neighborhood.”

“My place is opposite from your place, I'm not going to hold you hostage. Go home, you have a big day tomorrow.” Y/n pulled up Google maps to see how long the walk would take, 35 minutes wasn't too bad.

“It's fine, I wasn't going to sleep right away anyways.”

Y/n shot a disapproving look. "Do you honestly think I was born yesterday? I mean, come on. You're planning to stay up late after a long day at work today and another one tomorrow?"

“Let me do this for you…Please.”

Y/n was contemplating beating his ass with one of the 2x4s lying around, how fucking dare he look at her like that when she is already holding her self back from jumping his bones. It was maddening. In that moment, the streetlight cast an ethereal glow upon his hair, transforming it into strands of pure gold. She couldn't deny the captivating effect it had on her. And that infuriating expression he wore, as if he had the power to make her surrender to his every whim, was driving her wild. If he had asked for her kidney with that look, she might have found herself on her knees, desperately clawing at her own abdomen to fulfill his request.

“Ok, thank you so much Carmen. You really are…kind.” Y/n tried not to look at his eye because she knew that she would feel another flutter and now she had an audience watch her throw up from overstimulation.

“It’s the least I can do.” Carmen didn’t have the courage to thank her for making him feel better about the restaurant’s financial situation so this was the best he could do.

They both walked to Carmen’s car in silence. Y/n had an unstoppable itch to fill the silence with some asinine conversation but she resisted. She knew as soon as she got home she would scream into her pillow for bringing up strippers and blindfolds to her boss, and she didn’t want to add more things to cringe about. They could be 85 and she would still pucker her face when remembering this night.

They finally walked up to Carmen’s car, and Carmen opened y/n’s door for her. Y/n had to keep from fainting right then and there, she was a grown woman and Carmen was doing the bare minimum by helping out an employee and here she was fighting a blush. He walked over to the driver side and started the car.

“You good?”

“Sorry.” Y/n hands were shaking from the nerves.

“I can't find the seat belt connector thing, it's too dark."

Carmen wordlessly grabbed the seatbelt from the base and trailed down the belt, softly grazing his knuckle on her collarbone before gently taking the buckle from y/n's hands and guiding it to the right place.

Y/n mumbled a soft thanks. They both looked away for a second, both of them completely floored by Carmen’s boldness. Y/n couldn’t take this anymore she needed to get out of here before she became a stuttering mess, “Let me look up the directions, I’m geographically blind so I need Google to tell me where to go. I've been working here for months and I still need someone to tell me to get home.” Carmen pushed his tongue against his cheek to stifle another laugh.

“Geographical blind”, who says that? That's literally the lamest fucking thing you could possibly say. Y/n was going to go home and watch a few meditation videos in the hope that she learns how to shut the fuck up.

The ride back was nice and quiet. Y/n was too tired to talk and she was starting to feel guilty for making Carmen drive her home, he should be even more tired than her. They finally pulled over to y/n’s place, and she sat in the car for a few seconds to ground herself before she looked over to Carmen who was looking straight through the windshield.

“Thanks again Carmen.”

“Will your car be back tomorrow?”

“The day after.”

“I’ll drop you off tomorrow then.”

“That's too much Carmen, You aren’t obligated to do this. I’ll just leave a little earlier so I can catch a train.” Carmen looked like he was not satisfied with that response. Y/n didn’t want to leave early because she liked her time alone with Carmen but she couldn’t keep imposing.

“I’ll drop you off, it's not a big deal.” He left no room for negotiation.

Y/n smiled at him before grabbing her purse. Carmen got out of the car and walked around to y/n’s side to open her door. Y/n got out with as much grace as a toddler, she really needed to go to bed.

“Carmen, you really are too… you're just too…” Y/n struggled to find a good enough word before mindlessly blurting out, “Good.”

Y/n couldn’t see his face because the streetlamp was too far to illuminate his face so she didn’t know if she made him uncomfortable.

“Thanks again, I’ll see you tomorrow Carm.” Y/n softly mumbled before walking into her building and while waiting for the elevator she saw that Carmen was still leaning against the car door. She gave him a small smile not seeing if she got one back. The elevator ride up was filled with y/n jumping, dry heaving, and overall panic induced mayhem. The second hand embarrassment was too much. The elevator dinged and she went into her place and looked out the window to really burn the memory into her brain. This is the exact date and location where Carmen dropped her off.

She was surprised to see that he was still there. Everyone at work knew what apartment building she lived in because she invited them over for dinner recently, so it wasn’t a surprise that he knew the general area on where to look for her apartment.

She flicked on the lights and picked up her phone to dial him and watched as his silhouette fumble around to find his phone.

Carmen spoke first, “I just wanted to make sure you…”

“I got home safe.” Y/n opened her window before giving him a wave from five stories.

Y/n continued, “Go home, chef, I want to see you bright and early tomorrow.” She saw a blur of what she deciphered as a wave.

“Night y/n”

And with that y/n closed her window and Carmen drove off. It was 1 in the morning so she didn’t jump or scream into her pillow like she intended to because her neighbors would kill her. So she settled for a shower and eventually passed out.

Y/n was not a morning person my all means and told Carmen as an off handed comment a few months back. He offered her later hours so she didn’t need to come in super early for prep but she could stay to clean up. She got ready and got to the restaurant at around 11:30 am, where she found Carmen, Richie and an older man seated on a table at the far corner of the restaurant.

Before she could slip away to make herself busy in the kitchen, she was called over by the older gentlemen with a finger curl. Y/n turned around assuming that he was indicating someone else only to find that no one else was there but her. She looked over again and pointed at herself and Richie rolled his eyes before kicking the chair next to him to indicate that she was to sit. Y/n took off her headphones and sat across from the old guy and in between the cousins. Carmen looked up and wordlessly gave her a polite greeting.

If this was money problems why is this old fart calling me over?

Awkward silence.

“Good morning.” Y/n started.

“Morning, did Carmen fill you in?” Carmen’s “uncle” asked.

"I'd be delighted to put a name to your face. I'm y/n," she said with a warm smile.

“I'm Cicero…” Y/n pretended to look a bit puzzled, “Uncle Jimmy, yes, yes, Carmen told me you were coming today”

No one filled the silence so y/n stepped in.

“As much as I love the mystery, I do have work to do…so…why am I here?”

Cicero spoke up, “Carmy’s got that catering gig at that bachelor party on Friday and we were wondering if you would like to help.”

“Catering to a bunch of drunks on Friday night, seems like exhilarating” Y/n said sarcastically. “I'll be there. I’ve got to the kitchen, I shouldn’t leave Tina alone with my prep-”

“Look, I'm going to be honest with you…” Cicero continued, Y/n glanced sideways at both Richie and Carmen but they looked as confused as she did.

“Did you work out front a week ago?” Cicero asked.

“I covered for Richie on Tuesday?”

“One of the guys, the groom, saw you and thought you…looked…” It looked like he was embarrassed to finish what he wanted to say. “They want you to be there.” Cicero finished.

“This is what you were holding off on, we’ve been sitting here for 20 minutes in fucking silence so you could solicit a fucking chef?” Richie said in confusion before laughing and leaning back to glance at Carmen on the far right who was visibly livid, which caused him to laugh even more obnoxiously.

“Be there and do what?” Y/n pondered, a flicker of concern crossing her mind. She couldn't help but wonder if this was how human trafficking stories began. She wasn’t really paying attention to either Carmen or Richie, but she could feel that it was getting tense on her right, where Carmen was seated.

“I'm just going to rip off the bandaid. They want you there to serve drinks.” Y/n couldn’t hide the look of bewilderment and relief.

“Jesus, you were making it seem like I was going to have to sleep with them…Yes I can serve drinks. I’ll be there” Y/n got up from her chair and Cicero added.

“Do you know what a Hurricane Shot is, y/n?”

Y/n immediately sat right back down, she let out a laugh and she was in decent company because Richie was also dying right next to her.

“They want that…” Cicero finished awkwardly.

Carmen looked up after trying to burn a hole into his table. “What the fuc-” Carmen fumed.

“What’s the pay like?” Y/n asked.

“Without you 5k, with 10k”. That made Richie stop laughing.

“Let me think about it.”

Y/n got up and walked out back. She stole a quick glance at Carmen who was sharing some choice words with his “uncle.” Y/n thought that she might as well get back to work. She was going to serve drinks no matter what but she had a feeling that she would get some resistance.

The rest of the shift was relatively slow and Carmen was in his office for most of the day. Around 8, it looked like there weren't going to be any more customers so Carmen finally got out of his cave and let everyone leave early. He stood with his back straight and arms crossed in front of his office, his eyes narrowed at y/n. Y/n thought she could not deal with the brunt of this confrontation by herself, so she looked at Richie trying to nonverbally communicate for him to stay. Luckily, Richie understood and stayed and it was just the three of them alone at the restaurant.

Carmen went inside and it was implied that the both of them should follow.

“I'm going to serve at that party.” Y/n whispered.

“Yeah, no shit you are.” Richie agreed while whispering a lot less quietly.

“It's 10 grand.” Y/n reasoned

“Who says no to 10 fucking grand?” Richie exclaimed.

They both walked over to the office. Y/n stood against the wall, it felt like she was being sent to the principal's office.

The silence was killing y/n so she started, “It's just one day.”

“Only a few hours” Richie offered

“Which is basically just a few minutes.” Y/n reasoned.

“Which is really just a few seconds.” Richie added.

More silence.

“It's a lot of money cousin, and y/n is up for it.”

“Yeah, 10k in a few hours. I mean it would be totally crazy to say no.” Y/n remarked.

“You would be fucking crazy to say no.”

“Yeah, Carmen, it would be pure idiocy to say no.” Y/n chimed in.

Carmen rubbed his temple and then looked up. “That is not happening. You aren’t doing this.”

“It's 10k, Carmen, and all I have to do is pour some drinks. It's like money is just falling on our laps, we have to take advantage of this golden opportunity.” Y/n added, “God helps those who help themselves.”

“You're religious?” Richie questioned

“No, but he’s Italian and they're religious, right? I thought it might help my case.” Y/n whispered.

“I can fucking hear the both of you.” Carmen was annoyed and y/n realized she didn’t really know how to convince him to let her help him.

“What specific issue do you have with me bartending at this party?” If she got to the root of the problem she could find a solution that helped ease his worries.

Carmen brooded in his corner. People didn’t give Richie enough credit, he was pretty good at reading a room and he knew that it would be better if he left Carmen to y/n.

“I got something tonight.” Richie spewed out before turning around to get the hell out of there. As he was about to leave he mouthed You got this? Y/n gave him a subtle thumbs up.

They both stood in silence hearing the sounds of Richie walking around the kitchen to grab his keys and get his charger in the front, and eventually the door chimed meaning that it was now just Carmen and y/n.

“Tell me what the issue is. Do you have safety concerns?”

“That's one of many concerns.” Carmen knew he was being difficult but he couldn’t let this happen.

“I'm just pouring drinks, I'm not going to be doing anything super dangerous.”

“You are going to be pouring drinks for coked out dickheads. How is that not dangerous?”

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Besides, your uncle told me that I'm going to be giving hurricane shots, if anything I'm the dangerous one.”

Carmen looked up and furrowed his eyebrows. “Do I even want to know what that is?”

“You don’t know what it is?” Y/n had to resist snickering. “So basically, you would take a shot, then I would splash water on you and slap you…Do you want to see a video?” Y/n ushered Carmen to the only chair in the office.

Carmen didn’t know why he was humoring this and he didn’t want to admit it but he was wondering what the appeal of getting slapped was. If it's just slapping a few guys then maybe it wasn’t too bad…

Y/n pulled up a video and any bit of him that could have been convinced to let this happen shriveled up and died. It was a video of a woman in a very revealing dress sitting on a table splashing and slapping horny middled aged fucks. Absolutely not.

Y/n looked up from the video and saw that she made it worse. Carmen was sitting silently in his worn out chair, not even looking at the video just staring at the floor.

Carmen felt a hand on his shoulder and felt y/n come closer, he could feel her breath on his neck and it was making it hard to breathe. Softly, y/n whispered, “Carmen, you are being perfectly reasonable and very respectful but this is a once in a lifetime situation.”

A soft pause passed while y/n was trying to formulate the right words.

“You do so much for me so let me take care of you, Carmy.” Y/n rarely called him that and the name slid down his spine causing him to shiver.

Without even having time to think about what just came out his mouth, he mumbled a soft “yeah”. Carmen looked just as shocked as y/n. Neither of them were expecting that, y/n was expecting to have to postpone convincing him till tomorrow.

Now the next hurdle was making sure that Carmen didn’t change his mind. “Why don’t you stay with me during the party? That way if anything happens you'll be there. Will you be my designated bodyguard for the night, Carmen?" Y/n playfully feigned a pout, allowing Carmen to remain silent, sensing that he might need some space to process the request

She slipped out before taking a deep breath, Jesus that was stressful. People killed each other for 10k and he was just going to throw it away. Y/n wasn’t going to let that happen, even if he said no she would have snuck into that party and got Carmen his 10k.

She surveyed the kitchen, it was spotless. There really wasn’t much to do because the other chefs had done most of it but she had a feeling that if she left Carman alone, he would change his mind. So, she did what she did every single day, scrub these stupid floors.

A few minutes had passed and y/n was wondering about what she should wear to an event like that? A small dress was a necessity but she only had a small black one from her college years. Would it even fit, it's been years since she last put it on? She needed to find her old pair of black pumps from college too, she knew they were deep in her closet. And while she scrubbed and planned her outfit for Friday, Carmen came out of his office and joined her wordlessly, taking the towel from y/n’s hands and scrubbing for her.

He finally looked up, “I will be by your side the entire time. You can’t go anywhere unless I can see you-”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?”

“No.”

“No?”

“What if some sleazy fucker is waiting in the bathroom?”

“I doubt it. But ok, I'll hold it.”

“You can't cross the counter.” Y/n wasn’t going to anyways.

“And I have to drive you home.” That stupefied y/n.

“What? Why?”

”What if one of those limp dicked pervs follows you home?”

“Carmen, you’re thinking too much. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I’m not letting you do this unless-”

“Alright Carmen. We will do this your way.” Y/n gave him a smile to show that they were good.

Carmen quickly glanced down and continued scrubbing the floor. The rest of the night was spent cleaning the floor and eventually neither of them could come up with any other excuses to stay together. There is only so much time you can spend scrubbing and organizing an already spotless kitchen.

They both went back to the lockers, grabbed their stuff, did a final walk through, and locked up. Carmen drove her home, y/n said goodbye through the phone and waved out the window. Y/n knew that this routine couldn’t last because she would pick up her car tomorrow morning but she was debating slashing a few tires just to make this last a bit longer.

The next day y/n came in at 11:30 and was pulled aside by Richie.

“Is it handled?”

“It's a bartending gig not an assassination. And yes.”

“That bastard said yes?” Shocked didn’t really cover what Richie felt.

Y/n shrugged her shoulders, “I know you wanna crack a few jokes but he is tethering and I don't want him to-”

“No wise cracks.”

“Also, the crew thinks I'm catering, could you keep the bartending underwraps.”

“Sure thing princess.”

“Do not-”

They were cut off by Fak and y/n took that as her sign to leave. Other than that, the day was exactly the same. The only other difference was that at the end of the night she had to walk to her car with Carmen.

“You can back out, you know. This debt is my brother's… and now it's mine. You shouldn't get involved in this shit show.”

“Do you feel like you're taking advantage of me?” Carmen didn’t say anything.

“How about you give me the day off tomorrow and we'll call it even. Paid leave.”

Carmen smirked, “That's not really even.”

“I'm giving you less than 24 hours notice and don’t even have a good reason to miss work tomorrow, I'm being a bad employee and you're going to let me get away with it. It seems plenty even to me.” They had ended their night relatively early, it was only 11pm and y/n wanted a few more minutes with Carmen, so she took a few wrong turns. Was that a selfish thing to do? Yes. But did it feel right? Also, yes.

They finally “found" her car. Carmen opened the door for her after she unlocked it. Y/n pulled out her parking spot and then drove off. But she didn’t forget to wave out the window and in the rear view window she could see that he was waving back. Y/n drove for a few minutes before double parking in an open street to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. She rolled up her windows and squealed. It felt good to be able to do that after holding it in for the last few days. She composed herself and drove home.

The next morning was brutal because she had to completely gut her closet to find that black dress and heels. After a few hours she found them in the same box that held her cap and gown. She laid them on her bed and then went to get a haircut. On her way back she saw a tattoo parlor and walked in and asked if they had any temporary tattoos lying around. They found one wedged between some binders, it was a large rose.

The night was quickly approaching and she had to leave soon. She had finished getting ready and right as she was about to leave she remembered the rose tattoo. Y/n ran to the skin, and peeled her dress up leaving her thigh exposed and placed the rose tattoo there. She grabbed a long black jacket and then she called an uber to take her to The Beef. The jacket covered up her cleavage but her legs were mostly bare and she regretted not wearing a pair of sweats for the commute.

The restaurant was closed slightly early but it still was pitch black when she got there. Richie and Carmen were finishing up moving chairs and tables. Y/n walked in and the chime alerted them that y/n had arrived.

“Hey guys. When does the party start? Am I too early?”

Carmen’s face betrayed nothing so she couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. Richie smirked, “The band of dickheads are coming in about 20 minutes.”

“Can I see what the booze situation looks like?” She got a short tour of what the food and drinks situation was going to look like. She hadn’t taken off her jacket because it was still a bit chilly.

“Carmen, can you turn up the heat?” Carmen walked over to the thermostat in his office to adjust it to y/n comfort. With only 5 minutes before the party was supposed to start, y/n thought she might as well take the jacket off.

“I feel a bit out of place, I'm the only one dressed up.”

Richie gwaffed,” Don’t worry you’ll be in good company with the strippers. Honestly, who's going to know the difference.” Y/n raised a cup of iced water to chuck at Richie.

“Hey, save that for our esteemed guests.” Richie said as he walked as far as possible to avoid getting splashed.

Just as y/n was about to tell Riche to fuck off, Carmen walked in. He took one look at y/n and spent the next few seconds trying to generate a coherent thought. The first wave of guests came in and Carmen lost his chance to say something but it's not like he could come up with anything marginally comprehensible anyways. In a few hours the party was in full swing. Richie was sitting in the kitchen but the thumping music, the smell of booze, the reverberating sound of obnoxious drunk laughter was giving him a migraine so he went outside for an hours long smoke break, he wondered how Carmen was doing.

Carmen was not doing fine, he was doing horrible. The lights, music, and dancing were making him nauseous. But the thing that really tested his patience was the guys ogling at you. Y/n wasn’t really paying attention to any of the guys but they were getting more and more drunk.

The room was lit with purple and blue lights and it was difficult to tell what was happening, and even though he knew it was wrong that didn’t stop Carmen from taking a few peeks at y/n back side throughout the night. If the back was rendering him speechless he could only imagine what the front looked like. The thought that these piss pots were seeing her would send him into a blind rage but the fact that each one of them would get hit in the face made it a bit more digestible.

A guy came up to y/n, and Carmen walked right up to them to know why this fuckhead was talking to her. The groom had asked for the first hurricane shot. Y/n sent him away for a few minutes to give her time to set up. She turned to Carmen and gave him a mischievous smirk.

“Payback time.”

Even though they were in a very crowded room, y/n smirk made him forget it. It was a small and private gesture and no one else would be privy to see it. It was just for Carmen and no one else. That made him feel a bit better.

Y/n and Carmen filled up cups with very cold water just to make it hurt even more. Carmen started to put ice in the water and when y/n saw what he was doing she threw her head back to laugh. The laugh made his heart flutter but the feeling of her hand grasping him to ground herself sent a shiver down his back and it wasn't because both their hands were ice cold now.

The room was so loud that they needed to come close to the other’s ear just to hear each other.

“You gotta put a bit more ice in this one, Carmen ”

“Who’s getting this special order?” Carmen smirked, he was having fun.

“The groom of course. Why are you asking a stranger you meet once to slap you across the face when you have a fiancée at home? Also, what kind of sick fuck gets drunk, high, and a hand job from a stripper the week before his wedding? That level of dickbaggary deserves a face full of welts.” Carmen covers his mouth to hide his smirk.

“It's so tacky and…and…yuck. Hard pass.”

Carmen took that information and stored it in his vault; no drinking, drugs, or girls of any kind during his future bachelor party. He wasn’t going to do the last two anyways, but he never wanted y/n to feel “yuck” about him so he would sacrifice the alcohol for his own bachelor party.

“Have you seen the women here? Very pretty.” Y/n teased.

Y/n didn’t really know why she even brought it up, She spent the entire night facing the crowd and got an eye full of many tits and she knows Carmen’s witnessing the same scene. Being surrounded by a sea of stunning and jaw dropping women had triggered a sense of insecurity within her. Yet, she reminded herself that those women were there to captivate with their beauty, while her role was to serve food and drinks. And to be fair, some of her customers have dropped their jaws after eating her food, balancing the scales of admiration. As such, any lingering immaturity or jealousy dissipated into the air.

The source of unease wasn't the presence of other women, but rather Carmen himself. Y/n had previously worked at a strip club and hadn't experienced this level of jealousy before. But now, with Carmen by her side, she found herself questioning whether he was comparing her to the other women at the party. Did she even register on his radar amidst the crowd? While their relationship remained strictly that of coworkers and friends, she appreciated that Carmen hadn't abandoned her. However, she couldn't help but feel conflicted about his presence, as she didn't want him to witness the spectacle of beautiful women giving drunk idiots lap dances.

Carmen looked up at her while his head was still bent down filling cups with ice, “Uhh, I haven’t really taken a look.”

Y/n doubted that but she didn’t want to protest, so she hid her insecurity behind jokes.

“You should, Mrs. Berzatto could be in this crowd.”

“I can guarantee you that they are not.” Carmen pushed. Y/n chuckled and Carmen could swear he saw her eyes glow.

“Hey, today has probably been really stressful. You can let go for a bit. You know, blow off some steam. There are plenty of women who would love to give you a lap dance. You know that pretty blond has been eyeing you since she came in.” Y/n pointed in some general direction with a straw but Carmen didn’t even look up from the water cups.

Carmen looked into y/n’s eyes and was trying to decipher this puzzle she had put in front of him. She was telling him to go and talk to other women and even though her tone, face, and behavior was exactly the same as before, he couldn't shake off a faint undercurrent of tension emanating from her

“I like it here.”

“So you like to watch.” Y/n smirked while turning around to fill a styrofoam cup with sprite from the soda dispenser to cool herself. She was trying to be cool but it was coming off as vaguely threatening, she needed to get her shit together.

Carmen turned around so he was facing her direction then placed his elbows on the counter and looked up at her with those killer eyes, “Yeah I do.”

“Mr. Berzatto, have you been drinking you’ve gotten, dare I say, bold?”

Carmen raised his eyebrows in a joking manner and y/n could swear that she saw stars glisten in his irises. God, was he handsome or what?

“I think it's time to get this show on the road.” Y/n turned around to walk around the counter so she could hop on top, she couldn't do it from behind the counter because it was filled with liquor and cups and she would knock everything over. Just as y/n was going to walk out the counter, a muscular arm blocked her from leaving. She furrowed her eyebrows, and looked up at his eyes.

“You promised, you wouldn’t.”

“I can't get to the counter from here…why don’t you walk me over there, so that no one bothers me. Earn your keep bodyguard” Y/n softened her eyes to convince Carmen, and to her surprise he let out a sigh before removing his arm and leading her to the other side of the counter glaring at anyone who even thought about looking at y/n. Y/n’s dress was so tight and short that she couldn’t really get up without flashing everyone. She looked up at Carmen and told him about the situation she was in and how she needed a chair or something.

Carmen brought his face close to y/n so she could clearly hear, “Can I touch you?”

Holy…mother…of…fuck. Y/n’s brain flat lines and she stumbles out a quick and breathy “yes”.

Carmen put his hands on her waist and y/n linked her hands behind his neck and just as y/n was about to close the gap, she let out a yelp as she was hoisted onto the counter. She is starstruck, her heart is beating fast and she is resisting the urge to kiss him from up here. She had to remind herself that he was just being helpful.

"Tattoo?"

Y/n was a mess and she needed a few seconds to understand what he was saying, "It's fake, so that if anyone takes any pictures I can pretend it's not me." It took all of y/n's will power to connect these words together. It was getting hard to think.

Carmen took one more look at y/n stradling the counter before reaching over the counter to grab the same straw y/n used to point at some other women, and lighty dragged it across her knee.

“Your past the counter, chef”

Y/n was in a daze, her knee felt like it was on fire and that was just from a straw. She wordlessly got up on her knees and kneeled on the counter.

Carmen walked right back to behind the counter and passed her a heavy cup.

“For our guest of honor.” Carmen grinned. He was making her lose her breath, y/n was going to pass out and fall off this counter.

Y/n took the cup of water and a shot of tequila from Carmen. Their pinkies brushed each other and sent an electric shock up her arm.

“Make it hurt.”

Y/n gleamed. She turned towards the crowd and shouted out a short introduction before calling over the groom. She passed him the shot which he downed in record time, y/n shot a quick glance at Carmen, before splashing the water right on his face and just and he slightly relaxed his face from the original impact of the icy water, y/n gave him a loud and painful slap. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and it became silent for a brief second before cheers erupted from the crowd. The noise makes Richie peek his head inside to see what the commotion was about. The groom's face was already bright red from the alcohol and the ice and somehow the right side of his cheek looks like someone painted it scarlet, y/n gave a thumbs up to Carmen, who to her surprise returned one back. A line began to form and while y/n was making everyone pay for being annoying dicks, Carmen called over Richie.

“Its fucking boiling in here” Carmen commented, “Can you go into my office and turn the thermostat down to like 60-65 and grab my jacket.” Richie looked like he wanted to make some smart comment but the sound of another slap echoing derailed his train of thought. Richie took one look at y/n, and Carmen wanted to curse him out and punch him across the face, but he refrained. “Richie, the fucking thermostat.”

Richie complained but Carmen wasn’t paying attention and so he left and turned the thermostat down and threw the jacket over the counter.

“When is this shit show supposed to end?” Richie asked while judging the guests in the most unsubtle way possible.

“Two more hours.” Carmen said while looking at y/n. Richie rolled his eyes and left and Carmen was starting to feel the cold air coming from the air vent on top of them. Y/n was starting to feel chilly too and looked over at Carmen who was already handing her a nice wool jacket, his wool jacket. She slipped it on and Carmen felt like he could finally breathe. He was beating himself for not coming up with something like this sooner. The stupid shots were finished and y/n was ready to come down from the counter.

“My ass and thighs are numb.” Y/n said while rubbing them. Just as she looked up towards the crowd she saw that Carmen was right next to her ready to help her come down. Y/n was feeling bold, almost invincible from spending the last 30 minutes slapping men.

“Would you like a shot?” She asked with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve seen a million guys take it, aren’t you curious?”

Carmen was struggling to come up with something to say, he didn’t even know how to react. “I have to drive you home.” His stare was making y/n feel like she was burning from the inside.

“A shot of water?” y/n offered.

Carmen thought to himself, what would he regret more? Taking the shot or not taking it?

He extended his hand towards the water pitcher behind the counter to pour himself a shot of water. Y/n grabbed one of the ice cups and scooped the ice with her left hand and dumped half of the remaining water on the already flooded floor. She wanted to avoid making this as painful as possible. Y/n took off the jacket and set it down on the counter next to her. She tucked her right hand in between her thighs to keep them warm so it would sting a lot less. Carmen took one long look at where her right hand was settled and then locked onto her eyes,

“Hit me with your best shot, chef.”

Carmen downed the shot before locking eyes with y/n. Y/n splashed the water on his face and gave him a solid slap. Not as hard as the others were getting but not so soft that she would be accused of chickening out. Carmen’s face whipped to the left before coming back to his previous position.

“How was that, chef?”

It must have been the lights or the fatigue but y/n could have sworn that he glanced at her lips. Carmen’s hands circle around y/n waist to bring her down. He carried her a few feet away from where they previously were so that y/n wouldn’t step on the puddle, set her down and walked her back behind the counter.

“I can understand the appeal.” Carmen murmured. Y/n looked at him incredulously before laughing in shock.

Y/n was about to tease him a bit before she heard shouting from the crowd. “Do you want to step out? I think I need a break”

Carmen welcomed a break. He handed y/n his jacket and ushered her outside where Richie was smoking. They had forgotten he was still there.

“It's nauseating in there.” Y/n exhaled.

Carmen pulled out a cigarette in an effort to calm down. They were no longer in a party where they could pretend they had no outside obligations. He had pushed the bounds of their relationship and he wondered if the lights, music, alcohol, and seclusion together was only affecting him. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Y/n crouched down because her feet were killing her. She could feel the blisters forming but she was going to be a trooper. All she wanted to do was lay down. Carmen crouched down to match her height and raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong.

“I need to go to bed.”

“20 minutes left. You can wait in the car and get some rest. I can cover for you.”

“I need to see this place after it’s cleared out. I think I forgot what it looked like before we had it packed with drunk chodes.” That earned her a snicker from both Carmen and Richie.

A sense of tranquil silence enveloped them, providing y/n with a much-needed opportunity to gather her thoughts. She realized that she had to prevent herself from getting lost in the overwhelming depth of Carmen's presence. It was becoming clear that she had two choices: either distance herself from him entirely or bridge the gap between them, instead of remaining in their current state of avoidance, where everything seemed to be ignored.

Just as she was about to turn over to Carmen to ask him if he was free tomorrow night, a loud thump was heard inside the restaurant followed by a crash. Next came the screaming. Y/n and Carmen stood up and looked inside the window to see what got Richie to rush inside.

“Shit” Carmen exclaimed before running inside to stop the groomsmen from fighting. A wave of women ran out. Y/n didn’t go inside till the noise died down, she knew she would just get in the way. She pushed the door open and saw some guy laying on the ground with a bloody head. She scrambled to find a towel from the counter and then applied pressure on his head. Carmen had already called 911 and Richie was just staring with his eyes wide and hand on his head.

The next few hours were a blur. The ambulance picked up the guy that was knocked out. The police came and took Richie, and everyone else was either taken by police for questioning or they left for the cops to get there.

Y/n and Carmen were the only ones left standing on the pavement with little to no energy left. It felt like their bones were the only things holding them upright. Y/n didn’t have the energy to fill the empty space. So the trick to shutting her mouth was being tired, she could save herself from a lifetime of embarrassment by working herself to the bone so she wouldn’t have the energy to make a fool of herself.

She started snickering which slowly devolved to full laughter, she held on to Carmen’s arm to steady herself. Y/n from 5 hours ago would never have touched Carmen under any circumstances unless he initiated it first but she was losing it. She was starting to feel light, like this wasn’t real. Like she didn’t see Richie bash some fucker’s skull in. Or that she spent the last few hours flirting with her boss just for nothing to come from it. Carmen could only just watch.

“Let's get you home.” Carmen slowly ushered her towards his car.

Y/n laughter died down. “I can’t go home, not with Richie in jail.”

“You need some sleep”

“And you don’t? Where are you going after this? Visiting Richie?” Carmen didn’t reply or look up at her.

Y/n went back inside, grabbed her black jacket and ran as fast as her shitty heels and blisters would let her.

"I'm ready," y/n exclaimed with determination, taking confident strides towards Carmen's car. Carmen watched, momentarily transfixed and still processing the whirlwind of the past few hours. Y/n had laughed heartily as a coping mechanism, but inside, Carmen felt a deep sense of anguish, fearing the possibility of losing yet another loved one. He yearned to join in the laughter, knowing he couldn't do it without y/n by his side. Shaking off his thoughts, he quickly jogged over to where y/n stood, matching her pace as they proceeded towards the car together.

The car ride was silent, as both of them were fighting the urge to sleep. They got to the police station and y/n was so out of it she barely understood what groomsman status was and what would happen to Richie when the police officer explained it to her and Carmen. They were led to a seating area where they had to wait. Carmen threw his body on the bench and y/n followed suit. It was chilly and Carmen was wearing a shirt, so she slowly slipped off the jacket to hand it over. She felt firm pressure on her shoulders preventing her from bringing the jacket down.

“Keep it on, it's cold here” Carmen muttered.

“I have a jacket”

“It's too light.” Carmen’s eyes were drooping. Y/n sat back on the bench and tried to sleep sitting down but it wasn’t working. Carmen’s eyes were already closed so she shifted on the bench and laid her head on his lap.

Once Carmen had confirmed she was fully asleep, he draped her thin black jacket over her legs and floated into unconsciousness.

Carmen was shaken awake and woke up in a jolt. He eye’s meet Richie’s and it felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“Aggravated Assault.”

Carmen let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Carmen wanted to get up but he saw that y/n was laying on his lap. He gently slipped out from under her and carried her on his back to his car. He did his very best to ignore everytime that she dug her face deeper into his neck but he was still beet red when he gently placed her in the backseat and put her seatbelt on.

Richie watched but didn’t have any motivation to say anything but a simple, “You got yourself a girlfriend, Carmy?”

“We’ll see when she wakes up.”

Part 2

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ohnoitstbskyen · 10 months ago

Note

So, considering what's going on with Riot right now, do you think Arcane Season 2 got caught up in all of this restructuring?

Yes and no. Arcane season 2 is part of the reason for the restructuring.

As I understand it, internally at Riot, after Arcane was a huge (and more importantly: prestigious!) success, the decision was made to basically hand the entirety of the game's lore and story over to the Entertainment division within Riot. These are the people in large part responsible for projects like Arcane, K/DA, Heartsteel, that animated series China got, all that sort of thing.

The writers at Riot were basically told to flat out stop producing new content and lore for the game - that's why there's BEEN no new story content for League for over a year - because everything was going to be consolidated under the Entertainment division from now on. This is why Riot started talking about "One Runeterra" and "Arcane is going to be canon" and so on.

The success of Arcane convinced executives that what League of Legends needs is a singular cohesive brand with its most successful public property leading the charge, Arcane is going to be the gateway drug, the hook on the end of the line that brings new players and new paying customers into the exciting world of the League of Legends multimedia IP universe!

Nevermind that Arcane's story and worldbuilding is fundamentally incompatible with >checks notes< the overwhelming majority of Runeterra as it exists and enormous compromises would have to be made to either the world of Runeterra or Arcane itself to make it work. Arcane is the big shiny prestigious mainstream Emmy-award winning project that every executive wants to put their name next to, and like companies Pivoting To Video in 2015 because Facebook showed them inflated viewership stats, Riot Games is Pivoting To Arcane. It's better than them pivoting to crypto and NFTs, at least, although I know for a fact that high ranking people at Riot tried to make that happen too.

Now, the primary cause for all of these games industry layoffs is that interest rates aren't zero anymore. Borrowing money isn't free, the curve of constant growth has ever so slightly slowed, taking on debt is becoming a little tiny bit more risky than it was previously, and corporations are responding to this with massive rounds of layoffs and constriction to show "financial responsibility" and prove to shareholders that they are prioritizing core growth strategies and blah blah blah etc. They're also trying to kneecap the growing labor movement in the games industry and exert downwards pressure on wages, but the interest rates seem to have been the main thing.

In Riot's particular case, a secondary reason is they want to pivot the focus of the company to support their One Runeterra pipe dream, so a lot of the people who got fired at Riot are writers, artists, creative leads and sometimes extremely senior and successful staff who are now surplus to requirements. This is also why Riot shut down Riot Forge in the same round of layoffs - can't have a bunch of talented indie devs going off making video games that don't adhere to the new One Runeterra policy. What if someone played Mageseeker and got confused how there can be mages all over Demacia but somehow there are no mages in Arcane's Piltover and Zaun. That's a plot hole! People write snarky articles about that sort of thing. It turns off new consumers! What if Cinema Sins makes a video making fun of it?!?

So yeah. A bunch of cocaine-addled fame hungry executive vultures at Riot are absolutely gagging on their own d*cks to put their name next to Arcane related projects, and since they were going to be screwing hundreds of people out of their careers, healthcare, and in some cases their fucking visa status anyway, it seems to have presented a nice opportunity to clear the board for their latest Visionary Scheme for the company IP.

That is as I understand the situation, anyway. I'm a bitter old man and most of what I hear is second hand and anonymous gossip through my social networks, take what I say with a grain of salt, but I've followed this company for (oh god) twelve years now and I have developed a tragically keen understanding of how its executive class operates.

#league of legends #riot games #arcane #arcane season 2 #runeterra #games industry #layoffs

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staarboyyy · 2 months ago

Text

Necessary evils | Negotiations chapter ii

Ben [ Soldier boy ] x reader | no pronouns

explicit - minors dni

tags / warnings ; dubcon, reader has vagina, intoxication, weed use, cocaine mentions, slight angst, porn with a plot, destructive mutualization, lap sitting, pleasure denial, grinding ("the knee thing"), slight underwear fetish, m!masturbation, couch sex, free use elements, creampie, verbal threats, reader takes initiative (aka fucks around and finds out, with feelings!), is soldier boy a warning? if so, soldier boy antics!,

summary ; after the night in the alley, you cant help but wonder caused it all.

word count ; 5.3k

a/n ; [ Reposted with a full ending and edits ! Thank you for the support, even on accidental posts :"D] can be a stand-alone fic, but really meant to be a chapter 2 for my first fic on tumblr, Negotiations <3 thank you all for 200 followers, ill never be able to express the gratitude in my heart that has flourished in this community!! heres to writing format improvement, cheers! *tink!

Ben grunted as he pushed himself from the creaky motel couch, sighing quietly while his eyes scanned the room silently - As he landed on a small shoe box pushed underneath a desk, he bent at the waist to grab ahold of it, sliding it out with a hum. Upon flipping open the lip in time with sitting back down on the couch, made way for the harsh and bitter smell of weed and tobacco. His large hands sifted through the different items, plucking a glass pipe and grinder from the box and setting it next to him. The motions of this gave way for a strange familiarity, the smell, and movements of packing the bowl reminding him of hiding weed from his father decades ago. He was always insistent a boy like him should be 'straight-edge', clean, and practically from marble. He gave a quiet chuckle as he brought the pipe to his lips, glancing up at the ceiling. Before down towards the floor. No way in God's green earth had his father made it into Heaven. He gave a light stomp as he flicked the lighter over the bowl - It was muscle memory, though since his father died he made it a point that he'd never rest, not even after death. With a gracious inhale, Ben's lungs filled with smoke, pulling down the thickening barriers of his throat, mind reeling black and white grainy family photos. It made him sick to dwell on his family. Though the exhale cut sharp through his lips, throat stiffening at the burn that sliced that part away from him. He went in for another, heel coming down once more to thump against the floorboards, a smirk now pulling at the corners of his lips. Smoke filled the apartment, not unusual for this time of night, even as it made its way into your sleeping nostrils.

Working with Hughie and Butcher was not your intent. You told yourself this, as you watched the two men unfold into animals, lacing their arms with bands and injecting temp v at any opportune moment. It made it difficult to sleep, knowing the two were out at night, rampaging the streets in hopes of finding Soldier Boy's past team; And also the tense presence of Ben sitting on the couch, just a foot or two away. You stirred at the strong smell, shifting slightly as you adjust yourself on the worn-in couch, propping your elbow up on the armrest with a soft grimace. It wasn't comfortable by any means, but the exhaustion of the day had hit you like a freight train.

"How long was I out?"

"An hour or two. You fuckin' crashed, figured you'd need it."

Nights such as these came with a sense of peace; Like a lion and crane feeding at a watering hole, side by side with eyes unwavering as you do what they must to get by. The peace was faint, gritty between Ben's fingers as he packed a bowl down gently, shifting his jaw. He brought the lighter up to the pipe once again before his eyes set on you- The bowl sizzled as he inhaled, smoke drifting from his nostrils as he effortlessly pulled from the pipe, puffing it as if it were a cigar. His next motion came at a strange interception of his mind and body, hand moving to offer the lit pipe towards you. He gave no words, though it seemed he wouldn't have been able to conduct them into genuine conversation nonetheless.

Typically, you'd shake your head, or wave your hand, leaving the Supe to his devices - Though, the crickets shrouded the night air, pulsating through the thin windows and swelling at the shine of the moon, thick clouds parting like curtains to expose the soft light. This wasn't a night typical for you. You reached out, pursing your lips slightly as his rough skin grazed yours, his thumb lingering on your smaller fingers for a few moments. You tentatively brought the pipe to your lips, eyes casting over the man; He looked painfully human like this, relaxing back into the couch, spreading his thighs with a grunt as he looked back toward you quizzically. You pulled from the pipe, thumb pressing against the small hole, releasing as the bowl crackled a hot orange. The smoke cut down your throat in a harsh wave, coasting over your muscles with a hitched breath as your grip on the pipe tightened slightly, tears wetting the corners of your lashes at the fire lit in your lungs and throat. The smoke escaped you in small puffs, between coughs, dishing in the occasional sip of water from a crinkled 'room service' water bottle. It seemed to entertain Ben strangely, watching you quietly as you recovered from the harsh breath of smoke with an extended hand to take the glass piece back from you. The thick veil of smoke in the air twisted in ribbons as you spoke.

"Remember when you talked about our deal? What made you," You trailed off, recalling the night with a creeping burn ringing in your ears, the feeling of his hands seared into your mind.

"Mhm." Ben didn't miss a beat replying in a deep hum, his eyes now settled closed as he relaxed back into the couch with a sigh. "I don't know. "

He knew the question was coming, though with the anticipation came no rousing answer; In truth, he didn't know. He hadn't been drawn to you before that night, and now finding his pulse speeding due to just being in close proximity of you was... A shift. That was for sure. Ben shifted his jaw slightly, head leaning off to the side a bit. Sex was materialistic, something traded, an exchange - Kissing though. It made Ben's fingers clench into slight fists beside himself, pulling in a slow inhale as his mind returned back to the alley. Your lips against his. The thrum of Ben's heart began to pulse in his temples, rushing down his abdomen as he recalled the feeling of it all. His eyes opened, shifting his weight and keeping his gaze pinned to the space in front of him. "You think I'm a bad guy?"

"...Yes." You weren't sure what he wanted to hear in that moment, his blue eyes fixated on the spot in front of him as your attention fell from his expression to his hands. How they fisted the spaces in the couch beside himself; Yet the geiger counter Hughie left behind remained still. Not rage, not frustration, or a slew of memories. You couldn't place what was eating away at him, not exactly. Though as you confessed yourself, in a single word - The first thing to come from Ben was a chuckle. His fists uncurled, clearing his throat as his eyes moved over the room with a shake of his head. The answer didn't seem to satisfy him - He didn't know your scale of what was and what was not bad, no way to place where he was in your mind, let alone on a metaphorical scale of morality. He brought a hand to his face, palm, and fingers rubbing at his stubble before looking over toward you. His expression was unreadable, not necessarily negative, the lingering breathy chuckle leaving behind the remains of a smirk. Ben wet his lips, parting them for a moment.

"You scared'a me then?" Ben breathed the question, his tone far different from the one he asked a few moments ago. It was a hardened thought as if he'd already concluded the answer before he even asked - Though he wanted to see it. That moment where the searching in your eyes falls to a fearful pricked gaze, goosebumps on your skin as Ben's question truly dawned on you, the man tilting his head slightly, brows still furrowed. He knew that you were scared, but his face read he had no inkling of such a thing; A truly evil man, is one who can be good when he chooses to be.

"Do you want me to be?"

It was a good answer, one that left Ben in yet another warranted corner, grappling with his rather intrusive blood flow. With another shift of his weight, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, inhaling sharply through his nostrils. The dust of cocaine surely didn't go unnoticed, Ben wiping the remainder of it from his upper lip with his thumb, and rubbing it over his tongue. He wouldn't let any go to waste, especially considering Butcher would be now... less inclined to support his rather persistent habit. It showed though; That widened gaze, pupils dilating and lips parting just enough to make way for slow breaths - The smell of whiskey and tobacco. He was always high, smoking even more than Frenchie, but there was a strange tension when he cut lines on the coffee table in front of everyone. It was a different level, the elated silver of his blue eyes pinning people to the spot, unwavering, unblinking. Terrifying, And yet there you sat.

"I think you're already past that. The whole scared thing. I mean shit, you're damn well traumatized."

"I'm stronger than you realize, you know?"

"I could pin you with one hand and take you over my knee with the other." Your throat dried, his gaze inspecting your reaction with a tentative inhale, breathing out a hum as he reached for the pipe still white-knuckled in your hand. He wasn't wrong - He had proved that, yet your stomach twisted into a tight knot at his little hesitation to make it crystal clear. His index and middle finger curled inwards twice, gesturing to the pipe with his eyes still searing into yours. You handed it over with a quiet sigh, eyes breaking away from his before he could dig himself deeper into your mind. You weren't sure how he did it, explored the darkest pits of your mind and clutching them with a forceful intimacy. You recalled the kiss, intermingled with hitched gasps and pleads for mercy, as your hand grazed his. It was warm, his ravenous hands working in stark contrast to the sudden plush in his voice and groans. It was nearly human. Ben paused for a tense moment, eyeing the pipe and parting his lips as the warmth of your skin rested against the callous of his own. You chewed your lip, sneaking a glance at the man who now visibly gathered his thoughts, tensing his jaw as he surrendered the words away, pursing his lips to punctuate his silence.

Sometimes you still wonder what he was going to say. Before he pulled his hand back from yours, before clearing his throat as he caught your stolen glimpse. He set the pipe down onto the small table, watching the bowl fizzle out with you, the black layer slowly crumbling to a dull white ash.

"I was going to ask why you kissed me,"

"I know." You tensed, half expecting him to be far past dozed off during the rolling periods of silence between you. Your eyes moved from the long put-out bowl to look in his direction, though he was already looking at you. The weight of his gaze fell onto your shoulders, beading down your body in slow waves. Ben wet his lips, pursing them once again; And you knew that was all you were going to get. It was nearly impossible to pry him from his mind when he sunk back, his eyes distant for a bleary second, before being blinked away, darting around for the closest vice to pull him back.

But there you were. His vice. The drug no material high could compete with, your soft lips shaping into words he could hardly conceptualize past the thick veil of his rushing pulse. He wanted to constrict himself, for the sake of himself, clench his damn fists and look away from your lips. He swallowed, jaw tight as you leaned closer to him in an inaudible allure, tying the both of you to a painful high. You could feel his breath, hot against yours as he inhaled slowly, his hands unlocking themselves from the couch to reach toward you.

As Ben's large hands moved, he inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving your lips. The warmth of his skin against yours sent an electric shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning your body closer to him. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat and conflict in his eyes, the battle between his selfish desire and his self-control. But as he allowed you to press your weight against his own, his lips brushing against yours, you knew that he had lost the war.

Bens's lips moved against yours, slow, painstakingly hesitant as if you were made from glass. His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body closer to him as he deepened the kiss. You could taste the weed on his tongue, mixing with bitter liquor, the soft scratch of his stubble rubbing against your skin. You moaned softly against his mouth, your hands moving to his chest, clutching tightly at the collar of his sweatshirt, still dotted with water from his hair. He groaned, the sound deep, and pulled from his chest, a breath of surprise passing his nostrils as you pulled yourself impossibly closer to him. Your legs rested beside his, straddling his lap as your fingers moved to his cold wet hair, tangling themselves through the soaked strands. His tongue traced your bottom lip, his mouth practically watering as you began to grind yourself down against his stiffening cock. A familiar pulse strung itself in your desperate movements, an instinctive dance you couldn't help but lose yourself in, your heart thrumming in your chest, heartbeat quickening in your ears. You took in a ragged breath, lips still pressed messily to his as his hands gripped your hips with a pleading grunt.

"What're you doin' to me, huh baby?" Ben whispered against your glossy lips, his eyes still closed, forehead gently resting against yours. You wish you could answer feasibly, and bring your swelling need to words, but the feeling of being against him was intoxicating. His grasp was like steel, unwavering, fingers moving in practiced gropes, invasively pulling your thighs further apart with little effort on his end. Your struggles, the moments your thighs hitch together or your back arches an inch out of place, were hardly anything to him. His hands molded you in forceful need, the heat of your skin and the sound of your breathing; He wanted it all, all of your weight against his statuesque body, the feeling of the gathering heat between your thighs grinding against his cock.

"Deals a deal," You reminded the Supe with gritted teeth, pulling on the hair at the nape of his neck. Though it did nothing, hardly feeling like a tug, he tilted his chin up, relaxing his shoulders into the couch. Your heart thundered in your chest - You felt like a mouse balancing on the paw of a lion waiting to strike, as you pestered and teased him. He clawed into your hips, palming your ass with a shudder as you lowered your head to his jaw. Your lips traced his stubble, humming softly as you reached his neck, grinding your hips down against him.

"Oh, is that what this is?" Ben spoke in a shallow rumble. "I should'a known better." You felt yourself lift from his lap, his hands bringing you into the air with ease to lay your back on the couch, grunting softly as he pinned your hands beside your head, positioning himself above you. Your breath swam shallow in your chest, swirling from your lips in a mix of moans and echoed pleas. For just a split second, the crushing heat of fear cut through your arousal in a searing slash, your thighs quivering, instinctually going to snap together. Ben's knee caught the space between your legs before you could deny him further, his pressing need to predict your movements drawing a whimper from your throat. He was like stone, no matter how your thighs wriggled, it all resulted in your clit pressing snug against his knee. You could feel your cheeks burning, rushing with the same heat that pulsed itself in your aching cunt. Ben watched your expression shift, releasing your wrists slowly as he pressed his knee experimentally against your heat. You let out a pitiful mewl, watching him slowly reach one of his hands down to grope his clothed length, the veins in his arms bulging as he dipped his fingers past his waistband with a sharp exhale.

The noises you made stirred something in him, his cock twitching with each strained breath that caught your throat. Ben tugged the waistband of his sweatpants down, wetting his lips with a strained grunt as he freed his aching length. You shuddered, feeling his gaze on your face as you watched him wrap his hand over his thick shaft, moving in time with a slow grind against your pussy. Precum pearled at the tip, his thumb rubbing over his slit with a sharp exhale as he gazed at you hungrily.

You'd never forget those eyes, obscured by the drape of his dripping hair as he stroked himself to the image of you before him. Sweat beaded on his temple, brows arching as your back did, letting out a soft grunt as his eyes clung to your features. Ben's other hand released your wrist; He knew well enough he didn't have to restrain you to get what he wanted. His fingers traveled over your arm, rough palm rubbing against your burning cheek, before hitching his grip to the waistband of your thin shorts. His thick fingertips pushed past the fabric with an eased grunt, stretching the elastic band down to expose your underwear. Ben's jaw tensed before his lips fell open to take in a gritted gasp, gripping his cock as it pulsed at the mere sight of you. Your thighs swell over the edges of your underwear, the pearls of sweat pooling in the curves of your features. The air was thick with your hot breathing, eyes pinned on his cock, and how you affected him with each piece of clothing peeled back. Though by the time you had shed your shorts, his patience had worn thin, standing to his feet to properly rid of his sweatpants; Your breath caught in your throat as you did your best to keep up with the man's motions, how quickly his muscular arms crossed over his wide shoulders, pulling the sweatshirt from himself. Scars etched through his skin behind his chest hair, moving with his body as he sauntered toward you.

"Take everything but those lil' panties off, before I rip it all off you sugar."

You manage to comply, prying away the fabric confining your now sweat-glazed skin, pooling in the curves of your body. You could hear his breathing hitch with every article shed from your frame, your shirt discarded messily over your head. You were left as he wanted, as he demanded, head lulling off to the side as you looked up at him. Ben looked almost smug, satisfied as his hand, unmoving at the base of his aching cock, began to stroke slowly, lips parting as he admired you. Your hands clutched at the spaces beside you on the couch, imagining how your nails would feel grinding into his shoulders, raking down his back. The heat wound tight around your senses, breathing shallow as he took two steps toward you, free hand extending to tap your knee with his index and middle finger.

"Open these up, don't be all innocent now." He spoke in a husk voice, blue eyes perched on your chest, admiring how it contoured in decadent shadows with each of your delicate breaths. You wanted to hesitate, though his calloused fingers remained unmoving on your knee. Your body rushed in a hot pulse, cheeks searing as the thought dawned on you.

If you didn't open them, he would simply do it for you.

"That's it now, pumpkin." You shuddered from his pleasure at your eyes leering away from his invasive stare, knees wobbling slightly as you spread them for the man in front of you. They were a simple white pair, nothing special you thought; You dimly remember pulling them on this morning, eyes raking over yourself in the mirror with a chew of your lip. You would never imagine someone taking such a violent and carnal need to see you like that - Like this, Ben's fingers sliding down from your knee to the soft of your thigh. He kneaded your flesh, shamelessly jerking his cock as his touch left a fire in its path, rampaging your mind as he drew closer and closer to your needy heat. A whine hummed through your chest, perhaps racketeering with a man known for his selfish dalliances was less than wise, you thought - Regret, hesitation, it pulsed in your mind in an evil concoction, it strung tight in the path of his hot touch, how small grunts escaped him with each arch of his rough palm against his member. You wanted to sputter an excuse, your lips parting, the words about to spill from them; Before his hand rested on your cunt. The strings that tightened your throat, binding each one of your movements to him and his reaction to you, snapped. Your stomach fluttered as if you were on a rollercoaster, the aching tension of the rattling chain releasing, the traction giving way to an indescribable rush and sending you rocketing downwards. You knew you were being pulled, chained, and bound to the force of a man above you, all by the tips of his fingers now circling your clit in time with his strokes.

"Fuck," You huffed shakily, hardly able to conduct the electric shivers stippling your movements as you let your weight relax into his fingers. Your hips rocked slowly, clit pressed snug against the calloused warmth of his fingers. Ben's hand moved with a deliberate rhythm, his thumb flicking over your clit as his fingers danced circles around it. He watched your body, the way your chest rose and fell, the way your eyes fluttered, and your lips parted. His breathing grew ragged, and he grunted with each stroke of his cock, the head glistening with precum. You felt the fire inside you, spreading from your core, igniting every nerve ending. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only your body, Ben's touch, and the sounds of your own ragged breaths.

"Look'atchya," Ben whispered, his voice thick with a pillowy rumble. "Soaking through your panties," You didn't didn't respond, your throat too tight to form the words. You only nodded, silently pleading, the motion of your head sending another lashing rush, the pangs of denied pleasure practically agonizing.

Ben's eyes met yours, a hunger and a want for you in them. He licked his lips and leaned in, his breath hot against your cheek. "You're fucking depraved," He whispered, his fingers dipping pulling at the thin cotton, hot against your sensitive flesh. He smirked, his thumb now toying in circles over your clit, pulling it taut with each pass. "Gettin' all wet for a bad man like me,"

Your back arched with a moan, head falling back against the couch, his words sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. The way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, it was all far past intoxication. You felt like you were drowning in lust, the water rising higher and higher, threatening to swallow you whole. His fingers played with you, circling your clit with a deeper pressure, teasing you, making you squirm.

Ben's other hand slid up your thigh, grasping the underside of your knee, pulling you closer, and simultaneously spreading your legs. His cock, thick and heavy, rested on the soft mound of your pussy, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. You whimpered, needing more, needing him.

"Please, Ben," You begged, your voice a ragged whisper. You'd damn yourself later for sounding so pathetic eyes stinging with tears of need, cheeks hot with your desperately rushing pulse. He watched you for a sick moment, holding his thumb to your clit, lips twitching into a sadistic smirk as your squirmed frantically. You shuddered out a gasp, frustrated and desperate. His fingers stilled on your pussy, Ben's rough palm now stroking the base of his member. Your body jerked slightly, the denied pleasure mingling with a bitter pain. Ben's lowered the head of his cock, letting his girth slide between your pussy lips with a strained grunt. Pressed against your glossy entrance, rubbing against it in slow circles now, your hands reached his shoulders, nails carving into the muscular flesh.

"Beg for it."

And you did. You remember your lips hanging open, drawing in shallow breaths as you couldn't tear your eyes from the tip of his cock; How he teased you with each small breach. Tears wet your lashes, shame and need wrestling in your chest with each heaving breath between obscene words. You couldn't recall the words, the magic phrase you spoke to please him just enough to give you what you craved more than anything. It was too foggy, too spun out by the responding movement of Ben's hips.

"Nasty little thing," The man praised, hooking your knees against the curve of his elbows, yanking your ass to the edge of the couch. You cried out quietly, unable to gather your breath before the hot boiling mix of pleasure and pain began to wash over your sweat-glazed body. He slid inside, slowly at first, lip twitching as he groaned quietly. Your cunt pulled him in, the velvety breathlessness of your moans and pleads beckoning him to fill you. When his hips hit yours, the pillowed warmth of your ass slapping gently against his thighs, he admired you for a fleeting second - How your cunt wrapped over the hilt of his cock, your hips already rocking as the bitterly sweet familiar feeling of him swept you away entirely. You'd never admit to him how perfectly he fit inside, how a tugging part of your heart yearned to hear his soft moans, to hear him plea for you. Though with a hesitant draw of your eyes to meet his, you could feel the ice-hot revelation shackling your aching cunt around him, how his refusal to use you slowly seemed to short-circuit your blinded mind. He knew what you wanted; But he knew the darker side of you as well. The part of you that could never love him, but craved his calloused touch, the taste of his whiskey, the smell of his smoke. Ben thrust violently into you, the couch creaking in sharp squeaks as he practically lifted your ass from the edge of the couch, eyebrows knitting together as the new angle set a flame in his movements. Your breathing couldn't keep up, sweat dampening your hair as your hands uselessly held onto his shoulders with white knuckles. Your words floundered from between your plush lips, eyes rolling back with the rushing force of each one of his thrusts. It spun your feeble mind, melting in his hands, your grasp falling away from his shoulders with a pathetic sob. It was useless; Whether you were moaning in ecstasy, or fighting tooth and nail, he could use you when he saw fit. Use you brutally, your cunt quivering around his invasive cock, his hands moving to your waist now.

"Stop your fuckin' squirmin'!" You hadn't realized you were until his rough hands pinned you down to the worn fabric of the couch below you. He palmed your hips like a sex toy, admiring the feeling of your pussy continuing to milk him despite stilling inside of you. The head of his intrusive member pressed and rested in the small curve of your cervix. His eyes sized you down, undressing your naked body, pulling the innocence from his perspective of you; This is how you wanted him to treat you? To admire you for a transient instant before reeling his hips back, and snapping them forward with a vulgar clap of your ass. He stayed deep inside, only pulling out a few inches before slamming back, stamping the head of his cock against your cervix, pushing you to your absolute limit - All with a sickening smirk on his face, beads of sweat falling down in small pools down the curve of his jaw and prominent edges of his muscular neck and chest. Your hands explored every inch of his skin, drinking down whatever opportunity to feel him, to pry underneath the facade. Sparks flared behind the thin lids of your eyes, lashes wet and messy with tears, cheeks aflame as your body followed in smoldering suit. Ben didn't let up his thrusts, the telling pulse of your eager cunt, the incandescence moans choked from your throat. "That's it now angel, that's right - That's it, soak my cock, baby." The man's voice was mesmeric, unable to pull his attention from the unsteady breath in your growing moans. The undeniable limerence pulsated in his veins, the simple sound of your voice threatening to spill him over the edge. The ambrosial tone of your connection bound your senses to him, all the hot sparks that frayed your skin now tightened themselves in your aching cunt.

"Cum for me," Ben's words hardly pressed past the thick veil that lashed and licked hungrily at your heartbeat and body, a hot white pleasure shocking your quivering cunt. The man above you groaned, pulling your hips down to meet his, the sudden sensation of his cum filling your convulsing cunt washing over your hot skin. You tensed, legs locking around the other's waist. He gripped the back of the couch, splintering and cracking the wood underneath his iron grasp, shuddering out a hissed breath with each shallow thrust of his hips. His movements slowed, drips of his sweat dotting your skin, the heat of your mingling breaths thickening the oxygen you gasped desperately for. Slowly, he pulled himself from your pussy, letting out a strangled moan as the tip popped out, his warm cum following in a slow trickle.

Your eyes were half-lidded, eyes swimming up to find Ben, watching his toned body pull away from you, his slick cock still half erect, your juices dripping messily down his strong thighs. Your legs shook, still raised, as if stuck in that obscene position until he demanded you do otherwise - Though when the warmth of his palm met the soft of your trembling thigh, he pushed down slowly. Your legs relaxed, meeting the couch with a grunt, Ben's hand lingering on your skin for a brief moment. You knew the pain would come later, the bruises flowering over your hips, returning to the silent tension that Ben insisted was better for both of you. He took a seat beside you, his chest rising and falling with a steadying breath before looking towards you with a lazy chaste expression.

"You tell anyone about this, I'll fuckin' kill ya." You couldn't help but turn your head, speaking softly between gasps for air.

"If you were really going to kill me, Ben - You would have done it already."

#bowies fics #the boys #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy smut #the boys x reader #soldier boy imagine #the boys smut #the boys imagine #jensen ackles

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lovelyjj · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! Hope you’re doing good! If you’re still doing OBX requests, I’d love to know your take of the scene in season 2 where Kiara almost drowned in the sewers and if that happened to reader instead, and had JJ all freaked out and panicked and protective!! Please and thank you 🙏🩷

Sewer

jj maybank x reader

wc: 1.0k

a/n: sorry if this sucks.

“No. No way. Not happening. You’re not going in there.”

“JJ… who else is gonna do it? We have to get the gun somehow,” you countered.

“I don’t want you going in there y/n, I mean it.” JJ crossed his arms.

“What’s the worse that can happen? I get a little dirty?”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful,” JJ pleaded slowly giving into letting you do this.

“I will I promise thank you!”

“She’ll be fine,” Pope chimed in.

“Yeah I’ll be fine,” you gave JJ a reassuring smile.

JJ gave Pope an uneasy look but then nodded his head towards you.

With JJ’s reluctant approval your made your way to crawl into the sewer. It was muddy and wet and full of trash.

You crawled your way through the tunnel trying to hold back your gag. It was dark and dirty but you volunteered to do it so you couldn’t really complain.

JJ was worried, he started biting his nails. He didn’t know what he would do if something happened to you.

“I don’t see anything yet,” you called out.

“It’s probably at the bottom of the catch basin,” Pope shouted.

“Ugh,” you cringed as your shook the muddy water off your hands.

“Gun gun looking for a gun,” you murmured to yourself.

“Guys, I think I found something,” you voiced.

“You guys, there’s something dead in here!” you shouted.

Your screamed and then yelled, “Oh my god! There’s something dead. I repeat…”.

“… there is something dead in here!”

Meanwhile Rafe and Barry were up top by the drain. Rafe bent down and listened to the drain.

“Well, they’re in the sewer,” Rafe commented.

“Flush them out,” Rafe continued.

Barry scoffs, “you flush that pipe, you gonna kill the rat.”

“Yeah.”

“The last thing you need is more dead bodies showing up around this bitch,” Barry warned.

“You realize what you’re doing if you do that?” Barry hissed.

“I mean if you wanna be a pussy, you can leave,” Rafe argued.

“Do you not realize what you are doing, bruh?” Barry looked Rafe in the eyes.

“Get the hell out of the way,” Rafe ordered.

“All right, then. All right, then, tough guy,” Barry backed down.

“You don’t wanna be here for this, go find the truck, okay?” Rafe instructed.

Rafe started turning the wheel that let the water out.

Pope spoke to JJ asking, “Do you hear that?”

“What?” JJ responded.

“Listen.” Pope put out.

You were down in the drain when you herd the sloshing of water.

“Oh shit!”

“Guys? Guys the water!” you yelled.

“Shit! Oh my god! Y/N get out of there now,” JJ shouted.

“I don’t have time! JJ!” you screamed.

“This can’t be happening. Why did I let her go in there?” JJ talked in a panic.

JJ chest was tight and his heart was racing. He was so worried about you he didn’t know what to do with himself. He was panicking.

The water was coming in fast and you were screaming for help.

A flood of water came out from the gated hole where JJ and Pope were standing.

“Maybe there’s a manhole!” JJ shouted.

“Y/N!” Both JJ and Pope called out.

“Go go go go go!”

They started running to the manhole, screaming your name. It took everything in JJ not to faint. Allowing you to drown would be extremely traumatic. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t. He had to save you, there was no other option. A world without his girl is a world he wouldn’t want to live in.

You started climbing the ladder desperately trying to stay above the water. Eventually you reached the top and you stuck your fingers through the slits of the manhole.

“JJ! JJ! Pope! Help! Please i’m over here!” you shouted.

JJ and Pope ran as fast as they could. They finally reached the manhole and were breathing heavy.

“Pull! Pull it!” you said with urgency.

JJ and Pope both grunted as they pulled up on the manhole.

“Hurry! Hurry!”

JJ and Pope continued to pull it.

“JJ! JJ! Please! Please!”

“We are gonna get you out of there I promise baby,” JJ spoke.

The water was rising fast and it soon came up past the drain. JJ and Pope were pulling with all their strength. You were starting to think you were gonna drown. But then by some miracle the drain lid lifted up and fell down in front of the hole, as you emerged into the fresh air.

You collapsed on your hands and knees coughing up a storm.

“I for sure thought I was a goner for a second there,” you coughed.

“You made it baby,” JJ praised.

“ Y/N, You good?” Pope and JJ both questioned at the same time.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you cleared your throat.

“This wasn’t what we needed was it?,” you held up the gun from being stuck in your waistband.

“Holy shit you did it!” JJ cheered.

“Oh my god! Way to go,” Pope exclaimed.

JJ was so proud of you. His heart was so happy that you made it out safely.

The three of you embraced in a group hug and went to take the gun to Shoupe.

————

When the day turned into the evening, you were at heyward’s seafood using the outside shower. JJ was sitting on the bench waiting for you to come out.

You were showering away all the sewage. You felt grateful to be getting clean. You sighed finishing up your shower. You outstretched your hand for a towel which JJ gladly gave you.

The air was crisp and chilly and you felt the wind on your wet hair. You dried off and got changed. When you emerged from the shower stall JJ was smiling at you.

The two of you decided to sit on a nearby table.

“Ya know you really scared the shit out of me today,” JJ started.

“Yeah i know i’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault baby,” JJ soothed.

You gave JJ one of your signature smiles and his heart just about stopped. You enjoyed these moments with JJ. Where it was just the two of you and you enjoyed being together.

JJ was your person and without him you’d be lost. You think maybe if it weren’t for JJ you wouldn’t of got out of the drain. So you were eternally grateful.

“Thank you for saving me J,” you whispered.

“ah it was nothing. I’d do anything for you, you know that right?”

“Yeah i do,” you smiled.

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donutz · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere Smiling Critters x male child reader[pt. 2]

Requests from Tumblr and Wattpad—!, but not really

(Minus the fact I didn't include you being turned)

—☆You are a human in this

Sadly, you couldn’t stay here forever.

You are home now. Adopted. You did spend your time at Playcare for a couple of years though, everybody knew you, everybody in Playcare that is. The critters and kids knew you, the staff knew you, Miss Delight knew you.

So you had a mark on the place when it was time for you to leave. To get your own house. You were happy to get a home, but sad you had to leave your friends behind.

Maybe you could revisit this place again. Come back. But you couldn’t.

Something happened.

8/8/1995

You don’t know what happened that day, but you guess it was something pretty bad. It caused the whole company to shut down. You no longer saw any commercials of the toys.

Rumors were spread around, maybe somebody died, maybe a toy hurt somebody, maybe.. Maybe an experiment happened.

Anyways. There was a letter. A letter in the mail, something that related to your old home. Find the flower?

Sure. Why not, you were seventeen, you can handle yourself.

Which is something you shouldn’t have ever thought, after what you’ve been through.

It’s been scary. You haven’t died yet, but death has wanted to shake your hand a few times.

You almost bumped your head on a metal pipe while passing through a dark hallway, nearly broke your leg because you wanted to jump off a platform, wanting things to go by faster.

You’ve been chased through vents, and ended up at a dead end. You didn’t know what to do. You almost got shredded. But, were spared.

“.. Huggy?” He stared at you, maybe he recognizes you, even after all these years.

He didn’t kill you. He let you down on the second level of the metal stairways with his arm, and went back to where he originally was.

Then you were solving puzzles, with a particular doll following after you.

But the doll got snatched up, by a spider. Mommy Long Legs. She did remember you, you were the one who wasn’t so good at the games..(for the sake of your life in this story)

But she thought you left her to die, so she still forced you to play the three games. The first game has Bunzo! He was hesitant to kill you, you were the kindest kid to him when you lived here.

And for the first time, you actually beat the game! He was so proud of you! He wasn’t proud of his unfortunate fate in the future, but at least he didn’t need to kill you.

Then the small Huggies. They also remembered you, so they were sparing you. You also beat that game! They were happy, letting out tiny purrs at your success.

Then Pj— Wait. Since when were you so good at these games? The last I checked, you failed every single one of them! Fine. I’ll just sabotage the game for you, to make sure you never leave.

You could see Pj coming out of his pug-a-pillar hole, and you were sweating a little. Hopefully he remembered you too.

He did, once he saw you he stopped in his crawling tracks, taking a pause. He missed your younger adorable face when he gave you a small bump on your back, signifying that the ‘game’ was over.

But he unpaused at the start of the music playing.

You escaped. Out of there. That’s fine. I could just chase you myself

Three chases. You got chased THREE times. How desperate was she to kill you?!

You were putting the blue hand on the scanner, when you heard Mommy’s quick steps towards you.

You looked behind you— Eyes widening from her abrupt appearance. For the fourth time.

The door opened! And.. Mommy got killed, by you, by your hands.

A hand crept out from the thin crevice of a metal door. It took Mommy’s left over body, to wherever. You didn’t know what it was. Where it took her. But thanked god(or not, depends on your thoughts) at the fact that you weren’t Mommy at this moment.

Now you are somewhere. The train crashed, and you could feel the back of your shirt being picked up. You were sliding down a pipe, into somewhere.

You don’t know where it was, but you needed to get out, fast.

Doing some parkour, you looked around, and saw a long tail(plus paws) crawling up inside a vent.

“... Catnap?”

You went through some doors, and ended up seeing where the crashed train was. Going somewhere, you could see the recognizable entrance you went to at age 5. The way to Playcare.

You could hear the sounds of steps. Hurrying up you went inside the much smaller train compared to the one you were originally in.

“My name is Elliot Ludwig.”

Hm. Those words you could remember.

“When you look around at the world today,” You repeated after him.

“what one thing do you think it needs more of?”

“Playcare!”

Even at seventeen years, you were still mesmerized by what was shown.

You looked down, and could see 3— no. Five creatures walking or crawling around, resembling the Smiling Critters.

“Oh.”

Some of the critters could hear Elliot’s voice continue about Playcare, eyeing the moving train.

They saw your shadowed figure. Not knowing who you were. But a light is shown on your face.

Bubba, Dogday, Kickin, Hoppy, and Bobby saw your face. You’re back?

No. They must be seeing things. You were gone. Away from them.

But Dogday could recognize those eyes. Your skin, your curiosity, your hair(if your hair changed colors, or texture after growing up, then.. Yea, he still remembered you).

“Angel?” (Even if you didn’t really save him, he’s going to call you Angel. Because I needed a nickname for you. Y’know, because I can’t list every single name of the people who’re reading this?)

The other critters heard his whisper. … Maybe it was you.

The train stopped. But you were kind of scared, were they like Huggy or Mommy? Were they going to chase you down?

“Ah shit.”

‘Language.’ Dogday thought, dogs have good hearing y’know!

You were trying to find a way for two possible outcomes of being down here.

A) Try to make the train go back if the critters try to kill you

B) Somehow reminisce in meeting your old friends

B sounded a lot more better than A.

And.. B did happen!

The 5 critters went over to the train, while you were standing there. Waiting for whatever will happen to you.

Dogday crawled over to you, it was you! Your scent!

He gave you the biggest hug while his tail wagged(really fast, it’s kind of crazy).

He was still fluffy even after these 10 years.

“Angel I missed you so much—!”

You were trying to hug him back, but a little too scared because of the critters staring into your soul.

Dogday noticed their silence and spoke up—

“Guys! This is Angel!! You don’t recognize him??”

Silence.

“THE ONE WHO WAS HIDING BEHIND PICKY..??”

“OHH”

“YOU’RE BACK?!?”

“I was thinking that it was him but I wasn’t sure…”

“ANGEL!?!?!?”

You were escorted out of the train, and were greeted by a bunch of animals pawing at you.

You couldn’t get a word in!

Picky, Crafty and Catnap came over, hearing all of the excited animal noises.

Now you were crowded by a bunch of animals. You were so tiny compared to them, so they had to be gentle.

So much noises were going on that even the smaller critters came over to see the commotion.

You were back home!

Now you can’t leave.

393 notes · View notes

hannie-dul-set · 10 months ago

Text

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE [2].

SYNOPSIS. the saying “never meet your idols” exists for a reason. you just didn’t expect the reason to be because said idols would end up declaring that you’re their alleged lover from a past life (past lives, rather). now you have three big celebrities vying for your attention, and it’s not as dreamlike as you imagined it to be.

PAIRINGS. choi yeonjun, choi soobin, choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRES. reincarnation! au, celebrity! au (soloist! yeonjun, actor! soobin, rock band member! beomgyu), slight college! au, slight historical! au, rom-com, angst if you squint, reverse harem woohoo. WARNINGS. swearing, multiple instances where personal space is invaded HAHAHHA, the boys are very dramatic please understand their yearning hearts. WORD COUNT. 4.5k.

NOTE. woohoo! next chapter to this shitshow! some parts may be a bit confusing and vague....sometimes ominous....but all will be known in due time HAHAHHA (may be tempted to give a spoiler or two if u ask). hope you enjoy! please let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 2 — these meet-cutes aren’t cute at all.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO READ LIPS. But you don’t need to know how to get the idea that Taehyun is shooting an insult at you right now. His face says it all. “I said you look like hell,” he repeats after you’ve removed your headphones, the music still leaking out even after you’ve settled it down the cemented table.

“Taehyun’s right,” Gaeul pipes in, and Woohyun seconds it. “You look like crap. What did you do last night?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you grunt, melting into the table. The sound of Yeong-Il’s Second Life is still just barely playing in the background thanks to your loud as fuck headphones volume. “We finished our exams. Of course I stayed up until six in the morning watching dramas.”

Three disappointed stares and one of full respect. “Dude, you’re crazy,” says Huening. “What did you watch? Night Has Come? My Demon? You should’ve invited me. I feel betrayed.”

“Both,” you reply, but you don’t seem all too happy after consuming over twenty episodes worth of dopamine. You’re frowning. You slam a fist down the table and let out a groan. “But they don’t fill the Choi Soobin shaped hole in my heart— fuck! Why isn’t he getting employed? Why hasn’t he been posting on his Insta? It’s been six months since his last drama. I miss him already.”

Huening’s attempts to console you consist of a few pats on your back. Gaeul’s attempt is a lot more effective. “Didn’t you win a slot to Choi Yeonjun’s fansign this weekend? Aren’t you coming?” You spring up with a gasp. “Girl, don’t tell me you forgot.”

“I did! I fucking forgot because I have a deadline on the same fucking day, fuck! I want to die. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Are you still going?” asks Woohyun.

“Of course she is! Deadlines come ten times a week, but the chance to meet Choi Yeonjin comes one in a million!” Gaeul exclaims, then grabs you by the shoulders with a very serious look on her face, as if she wasn’t just disappointed that you sacrificed sleep just to watch a bunch of dramas. “Tell him I’m in love with him. No, wait, I need to tell him that in person. Tell him to wait for me. I’ll get in next time for sure.”

You whine out something that sounds like an agreement. “I haven’t prepared an outfit yet. This is so depressing. Gaeul, help me.”

Taehyun, who doesn’t share any of your unhealthy fixations, still hasn’t crawled out from his state of disappointed concern. “Just make sure you don’t miss your Saturday deadline,” he says. You roll your eyes in response.

“This is me you’re talking to. I may not seem like it, but I have my shit together. You don’t have to worry.”

They hate to admit it, but it’s true.

Your friends have always wondered how you managed to balance your hellish course load, your evening shifts at The Grind, and your hobby of fangirling over pretty and good looking men. The only reason you were able to binge two dramas until daylight is because you’ve finished all your midterm requirements before taking your exams, and you’ll definitely be able to attend the fansign because you’ll somehow finish a thirty-page paper in one day, in between classes and your work shifts.

They’re quite convinced you’re insane. The lifeless look in your eyes as you flit through your flashcards to review for a recitation later is a testament to that insanity.

But sometimes, a little spark of life manages to slip through.

Like right now, as you check a notification in your phone in the middle of reviewing.

“Shit, fuck, shit— oh my god. Yeong-Il dropped an interview, fuck, hold on—”

“Whoa, really?’ Woohyun digs his nose next to you. You guys have a graded recitation in thirty minutes, and you’re walking to the classroom with a blank face zeroed in at your phone screen in landscape instead of the flashcards you have now tossed away into your bag, paying no mind to your surroundings to the point that Gael and Huening have to make sure you’re still walking in the right direction.

Taehyun isn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. They can’t even tell you off because they know you’ll somehow find the answers to Prof Yang’s questions anyway.

APPARENTLY, THERE’S A CAR ACCIDENT OUT FRONT. On top of having a tiring day of rehearsals and the interview with Beomgyu exposing his delusions on the internet being dropped earlier (they didn’t edit it out, those rats), Yeong-Il isn’t having a good day, so it’s to no one’s surprise the the tension inside their van on the way back to their dorms is rather palpable.

Beomgyu, however, doesn’t feel said tension. Or maybe he just doesn’t care because he’s closing his eyes, ready to nap while all the rest of the vehicles surrounding theirs are honking their horns, and while Jeongin and Jimin are monitoring the interview on a phone. The part where Beomgyu talks about his alleged first love comes up. “Beomgyu,” Heeseung groans, covering his ears with a neck pillow. “Did you really have to say all that?”

“Ahh, quit nagging. No one’s even taking it seriously,” he grumbles, arms crossed and turning over his body to face the window instead of his bandmates.

“Yeah, people are just raving about how romantic Beomgyu is,” says Jimin.

“And making edits of him and Heeseung,” adds Jeongin. “They’re mistaking your stressed-out glances at Beomgyu as signs of unrequited love—”

Heeseung shoves a hand against Jeongin’s face to shut him up. “Still. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

“Nyenye. You should be more careful of what you say in front of the camera, Gyu.”

They’re friendly as usual. Heeseung can’t put in the last word because Beomgyu has completely transformed into a sleeping position— yet he can’t seem to sleep and rest despite being absolutely fucked out and tired. He lets out a groan, squirming in the car seat. “Ugh.” The car still isn’t moving. The road is still a mess. All he wants is to rest as soon as possible, and he can’t even have that. All he wants is to see you again as soon as possible, and he’s starting to feel like he can’t have that as well.

Beomgyu gives up. He begrudgingly opens his eyes and looks at the state of the traffic out the window. It’s getting dark. Streetlights are being lit up one after the other, and he watches people moving faster than the frozen cars, like the road and the sidewalk are on two separate spaces of time.

A thought enters his head. What are the chances that you’ll be one of the people walking along the sidewalk right now?

“They’re making way for an ambulance.”

It’s a fruitlessly hopeful thought, he knows. It’s a silly possibility to entertain. But still. He can’t help but examine each of the faces passing by in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, his wish from four-hundred years ago will finally fucking come true.

“Damn, when are we getting home?”

Right when Beomgyu gives up hoping and tries to fall back asleep again, he spots a familiar face walking down the sidewalk. Wait a minute—

“Man, this sucks.”

He jolts up, There’s no way. There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize that expression— stone-cold, looking as if the very thing in front of you is a worthless bug waiting to be stepped on, warding away any possible attempts of anyone bothering you. There are no knives in your hands, but a phone and a paper bag. You’re not adorned in the blue, red, white, and gold like he’s used to, but a large coat draped over your shoulders.

Still. Even if your face is covered by a mask, or if you’ve inhabited the body of a completely different person.

“Beomgyu, wanna play are round when we get—”

There’s no way Beomgyu wouldn’t recognize you.

Looks like the chances are high after all.

“Beomgyu?!”

The van door slides open. Beomgyu feels the cold air hitting his face as he rushes in between the gaps of the traffic-saddled cars and the spaces in between. He hears Heeseung and Jeongin and Jimin calling after him but he doesn’t give a shit. Not now. Not when he’s sure he finally has you within reach, closing in the gap between you before you can disappear into a corner. Not when all he has to do is stretch out his hand, breath caught in his throat and heart racing, and pull you by the arm so you can turn around and look at him.

And you do.

Your phone crashes to the ground, and you’re looking at him like you want to punch him in the face. Beomgyu’s heart skips a beat.

“What the hell?!”

“It’s you.”

Beomgyu watches your brows knit together, your mouth falling into a sneer. It’s like looking into a time machine. Holy shit.

“It’s really you.”

That look of annoyance. There’s no denying it. Night has fallen. The only thing illuminating your face is a single streetlight hanging above, but he’d be stupid to mistake you for anyone else. The arm that shakes his hold off is yours. The eyes that are glaring at him— sharp as knives— are yours, yours, and yours alone and he can get lost in them for hours on end. “The fuck? Do I know—”

Your name falls from his lips for the first time in centuries. It’s always been blurry, always at the tip of his tongue the moment his memories from four-hundred years ago came crashing back to him like a storm. But now, it comes off naturally the moment he sees you. It rolls off his tongue like it’s the only thing he was ever meant to sing.

He says your name once more. Your eyes widen in alarm.

“Are you a stalker?”

“I love you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I love you,” he repeats, breathless. “My biggest regret was failing to tell you how much I loved when I still had the chance.”

“What the fuck? What are you—”

Beomgyu reaches out for your hands, tugging you closer. Your skin burns him. Warm. Alive. “Now that I’ve been given that chance, I’m not letting go of you anymore.” He pauses, practicing the words inside his head before saying, “Let’s get married.”

“What?!”

“I love you. I missed you. Let’s get married right now.”

You don’t say anything. You’re silent. Beomgyu feels his stomach wrench and drop and hurt all the way to his chest and lungs because why—

Why are you looking at him like that?

“I’m going to call the fucking cops.” Once again, you shove him off, pulling your hands back and pressing them close to your chest. “There’s a crazy fucking bastard on the— shit! My phone! The screen is cracked, gosh! I haven’t even finished paying for it, for fuck’s sake, you have to— ex—excuse me, are you crying? Are you actually crying? What the hell?”

Beomgu’s vision is cloudy and his cheeks are wet. He knows you’ve always been spunky. You’ve always had an attitude and you two didn’t start off on the right foot, either. But why are you acting like you don’t know him? Like he’s some sort of fucking stranger?

“Hey, I should be the one crying right now! You broke my phone! What is wrong with—”

“There you are!”

Suddenly, he doesn’t see you anymore. Heeseung’s voice comes crashing in and he gets shoved aside, eyes stinging and mind still in a daze. “I’m so, so sorry for my friend over here. We can’t pay for the damages right away, but please take this. Again, we’re so sorry! Hope you have a great night, still!”

No. He can’t let you slip away again. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms like all the countless times he hasn’t. “Dude, what are you doing?!” Heeseung yanks him back before he can run after you down the sidewalk. “Quit being weird. Why the hell are you crying?”

Beomgyu is having a hard time understanding. He’s not sure if he can’t, or if he simply doesn’t want to believe this— but your eyes don’t lie. He can tell if you’re annoyed by him just by looking at you. He can tell if you’re angry, regretful, elated, or drunk from the onslaught of his affections, so this time— he can clearly tell as well.

He can tell just from the look in your eyes that you don’t remember him.

That all those years of waiting for you was all for naught.

SOOBIN KNOWS THAT HE SHOULDN’T BE HERE RIGHT NOW. He knows that he’s supposed to be on a diet, and he knows that he has a photo shoot for a magazine this weekend. He even got rid of his stash of instant ramyeon because of that, deleted all those delivery apps because this’ll be his first schedule after a few months of taking a break.

But he is here, at one in the morning, in between the isles of the 7-Eleven nearest to his apartment building, because cravings sometimes trump rationality, and god he sure is craving for a cup of noodles. Or two. Two sounds good. And since he’s already here, might as well put a pack of milk bread in his basket. A can of Sprite too. Manager Lee is gonna kill him, but at least he’ll die full and satisfied.

“Hey, hold the door open for me.”

“Don’t you have hands?”

“Nice! They have empty seats outside. Waiting here. Buy me some donuts.”

Ah, shit. Soobin pulls his hood over his head and readjusts his mask. Sounds like a group coming in. He should pay later once the store’s emptier— meaning, he has no choice but to browse for more snacks to add to his basket. Totally not because he wants to, no.

“Why’d you bring your laptop all the way here? You can continue working in Woohyung’s apartment.”

“Yeah, girl. There’s still a lot of time before the deadline.”

Soobin doesn’t want to eavesdrop, but the voices are talking pretty loudly. He’s dropping a few packets of yakgwa cookies into his basket while listening to a group of college students mourning about their courses. Good thing he chose not to pursue tertiary education.

“I need to finish this as soon as possible if I want to attend the fucking fansign. Crap, I should’ve switched majors when I had the chance.”

He abruptly stops snack surfing. Wait. Pause. Hold on.

“Should’ve done that before junior year.”

“I know. Shut up. Get me a popsicle, please. Chocolate. Thank you.”

That voice—

“They ran out. Only strawberry or melon. Pick one”

“That’s fucking balls.”

“You’re so eloquent.”

“Suck my fucking dick.”

Okay. Nevermind. It’s kinda weird to hear a voice that sounds eerily similar to the love of his life’s saying so much obscenities. You only spoke pretty words to him before, so maybe he’s just tripping. There’s no way you’d swear so much, so he continues browsing the snack aisle. Maybe he just misses you so much that he’s starting to mistake a similarly sounding voice as yours and subconsciously letting his hopes up.

“Hyun, by the way. I forgot to mention. I met a Choi Beomgyu lookalike last night on the way home from work. It was fucking wild.”

Then again, he thinks, arm paused hovering above a bag of chips. People didn’t really say suck my fucking dick in Joseon era.

Soobin stops filling his basket and starts moving out of the aisle, following the sound of your voice.

“I almost fell in love on the spot, but the guy wasn’t right in the head, I think.” Closer. You’re starting to sound closer. “He knew my name. He kept acting like he knew me and asked me to fucking marry him? I even dropped my phone because he scared the shit out of me. I don’t know, it was wild.”

Where? Where are you?

“Dude, really? No way.”

“I’m serious! I’m telling you—”

Where the hell are you?

“I even got a card from his friend when he dragged the Beomgyu clone away. I have it here, take a loo— wait. Wait. Isn’t BH the agency that manages Yeong-Il? Am I wrong— oh, sorry!”

There you are.

There’s a stain on his hoodie. Bright pink. It matches the popsicle you’re holding, the varsity jacket you’re wearing, and the color painting his cheeks because you’re right in front of him. You’re actually right in front of him right now— face flushed with panic, eyes rapidly blinking. “Are—are you Choi Soobin?” someone says. Not you. You’re still profusely apologizing while trying to wipe away the stain with your jacket sleeve.

“That’s ridiculous, Huening. Go get me some tissues! I’m so, so sorry, oh gosh. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You’re here. It’s actually you. His heart is racing. He can’t fucking breathe. He’s not sure if he should cry, scream, or all of the above.

But there’s something different. There’s something wrong.

“I can tell Choi Soobin from a picture of his ear! I’m telling you it’s him!” Your attention is pulled away by your companion tugging on your arm. “You’re Choi Soobin, right?! Jipuragi? Figured Obscurity?”

“Dude, you’re making him uncomfortable! Why in the world would Choi Soobin be—”

Soobin pulls down his mask, tugging on its fabric. When you turn back to look at him, your popsicle drops to the ground and you let out a gasp.

Your eyes are shining. You’re beaming. You do recognize him. You do know him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m such a big fan.”

Just not in the way he was hoping for.

“Y—yeah. Would you like a picture?”

You let out a squeal. So does your friend. This isn’t how Soobin expected his reunion with you to go about. This is wrong. He had it all planned in his head like a screenplay, and all that was left was to execute it without fail.

The moment he sees you, he was supposed to spin you around and hear your laughter fluttering in the air. He was supposed to hold you in his arms and give you the first kiss he’d been saving in this life because he’s been waiting for you all this time, yearning for years and years to give you the life he wasn’t able to in the past. To make up for everything you missed because in this life— there’s no class system to keep you apart. There’s nothing stopping him from loving you out in the open.

He didn’t expect to give you his autograph and take a fan selca with you after years of waiting.

This is so wrong. This is so freaking wrong.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” who he assumes is your friend says, and you’re smiling so, so brightly while looking at the photo of you and him that everything he wishes to say and profess and confess just lodges in his throat, blocking everything in its path.

“Thank you! Don’t worry, we won’t post this anywhere,” you say. Soobin holds back the inhuman urge to tell you why settle for a photo, when you can have him instead?

“S—sure. Anytime.”

“Ah, we should probably give you some privacy now. Huening, stop gawking! Anyway, fighting! We’re looking forward to your upcoming dramas!”

Just like that, you leave. You walk out of the store and join the rest of your friends outside, and he sees you showing off the signature he left on your receipt from the window, when he could give you so much more than that, when you could show off that you already own his entire heart. This...this really isn’t how he wanted to reunite with you. And the underlying reason for it something he doesn’t want to entertain.

“YEONJUN, YOU’RE UP IN TEN,” says a staff member. It’s the last week of promotions, and Yeonjun is getting his hair and makeup retouched one last time before he’s set to go uponstage to open the fansign. His manager tells him not to do anything stupid, or scandalous, or all of the above onstage— an almost everyday reminder that Yeonjun, more often than not, isn’t interested in listening to.

“Noona, you should trust me more,” he reacts, a slight whine in his tone. Manager Kim’s expression is nothing but dubious.

“At the very least warn me before you do something insane so I can prepare.”

“Will do,” Yeonjun grins, and his manager waves him off. Screams erupt the moment he emerges from behind the stage curtains, and everything else just comes naturally for Choi Yeonjun— not needing to second guess when he blows a kiss mid-performance, stirs the crowd with a comment or two, and making sure that all eyes are on him, almost as if he was born on every stage he steps foot on.

And to think he started this career without any desire for stardom.

Now, there’s nothing he desires more than blinding lights and the visceral sounds of cheers.

“A—ah, hello!”

Well. There is one thing.

“Crap, I—I’m so nervous I don’t think I can breathe.”

“Oh no,” replies Yeonjun to the fan sitting before him, marker in hand as he flips open the tabbed page on the nth album splayed out on the table. “Should I give you CPR to help you start breathing again?”

The girl lets out something sort of a squeal. He grins out a laugh and asks for her name and if she’s eaten anything yet.

“Thank you! Oh— oh, wait, one more thing—”

“Next!”

It’s a fast paced rotation. It always is. But Yeonjun uses the split second before the next person carousels in front of him to make a quick scan across the people lining up, across the people waiting in the audience seats, clinging onto the sliver of probability that this may finally be the day where his years of yearning for the ghost of past can finally end— well overdue for god knows how long already.

He reuses and rehashes the same lines, same dialogue, and same greetings for the next person, and the next person, and the next and the next and the next. It’s just one face after another. Not that he’s bored, or unappreciative of the fans that spent their time (and truckloads of money) to see him. But it’s human to feel a sense of disappointment when the face he wants to see doesn't turn up after the fifth, tenth, seventh, hundredth, thousand, nth face, fansign after a fansign.

“Next.”

His wrist is getting sore, back is getting tired, but Yeonjun readies himself for another round of mindless chat, missing the opportunity to do his routine scans when he closes his eyes to roll back his shoulders.

“Oh.”

Yeonjun hears the voice in front of him say. It’s a singular syllable, not even a word, but it’s enough to snap him wide awake.

“Oh my gosh,” you say again. Yeonjun doesn’t feel his fingertips. “You’re even prettier up close, whoa, this is crazy.”

He’s frozen. The usual ments and words and lines that usually flow naturally off his tongue don’t come. His brain is empty. The ink from his marker seeps into the album page underneath his numb hands. He hears his manager say something, but his manager’s voice is so far away— so, so, so far away, but the face he;s been yearning for in his memories is now, all of a sudden and without warning, within an arm’s reach, right before his eyes.

The marker stumbles out of his grasp. If Yeonjun reaches an arm out right now—

“U—uh.”

—he’d be able to touch your face.

“O—oh, holy shit, okay so we’re doing this now.”

And he is. The very feeling of your soft skin, unchanged from the feeling stored in the capsules of his memories, burns stronger than the adrenaline he feels when he’s onstage under the spotlight.

It’s real. You’re real.

You’re right in front of him right now.

“Choi Yeonjun, what the hell are you doing?!”

The hiss of his manager from behind is ignored when he suddenly springs up from behind the table, and you let out a yelp when he drags you up along with him. He’s holding both of your hands, thumbs brushing over the ridges of your knuckles before pulling them closer to his chest. There’s whispering in the background, along with the snaps and flashes of the numerous cameras littered everywhere in the venue.

“Yeonjun.”

He pays no mind to them. Instead he brings up your hands to his face and presses a kiss onto your knuckles.

There’s a scream and gasp and a yell coming from somewhere.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

But all he’s focused on is the swirls in your widened eyes, dizzy and taken aback, voiceless with your mouth hanging open. Yeonjun furrows his brows. “Why don’t you look happy to see me, my love?” You hack out a hard cough and Yeonjun drops your hands in surprise. “What’s— what’s wrong?” he stammers, leaning forward and closing into your face while you turn away from him, digging more unease into his bones because this...this doesn’t seem right.

“Sh—shit, I think I need to sit down, oh my god,” he hears you say, and it hits him. Yes. You were never good at expressing your affection. Yes, yes. Perhaps you’re just overtaken by a surge of emotions, that your appearance looks like that of constipated confusion of trepidation as a result of being overwhelmed by the fact that you’re so in love with him and that you’re happy to see him again.

Yes. That must be it. You’re both sat back down, and he scribbles something on your now ink-stained album. “Next.” And when you’re just about to bow and leave, he says your name— one that he thought he’s forgotten— and you freeze.

“Why do you look so surprised?” he laughs. “There’s no need to be shy. Should I kiss you again to ease your— ack!”

“Next! Next person!”

Suddenly, you’re being scurried away. “No, wait!” he yells out, but the moment he tries to get up again, he’s jerked right back.

His manager is holding the back of his collar, and you’re disappearing into the crowd. Was…was Manager Kim always this strong? He can’t even budge, can’t even run after you after he’d finally been reunited with you again.

“Choi Yeonjun, that’s enough!”

He blinks, remembering belatedly just where he is right now.

There’s still a line of people waiting for him. Yeonjun drops back to his seat, his manager losing her grip on his shirt, and he brings himself back after a round of inhales and exhales. It’s alright, he thinks to himself. It’s gonna work out. “Sorry about that,” he hums, smiling at a now different face sitting in front of him. “What did you tell me your name was?”

You’ve been separated from him yet again, but this time it’s fine. He’s not anxious. He’s certain that it won’t take centuries for you to return to each other, no— it won’t be long until then because this time, he’s not dead.

You’re both still alive at this point in time.

And that enough assures him that he’s going to find his way back to you.

“Next!”

STAR STUDDED BAGGAGE. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #choi soobin x you #choi beomgyu x you #choi yeonjun x you #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt imagines #txt scenarios

308 notes · View notes

okieedokes · 7 months ago

Text

you can stay with me | don hume x f!reader

summary: don let’s you stay in his room after the party!

part 2 is out! read it : here

word count: 1,141

warnings: none just fluff

Don Hume bows his head shyly to the applause of the crowd below him. It seems that everyone in the auditorium who hadn’t left with their respective sweethearts were joined in celebration of the young athlete.

He steps off the stage to join the group of men who have quickly become his closest friends as they all take turns shaking his shoulders and kissing his head in pride. Becoming flustered by all the attention, Don excuses himself to the bar, hoping another drink will settle his nerves.

Distracted by all the commotion, Don doesn’t notice the girl walking towards him until she crashes into his frame. The drink in her hand splatters the pair, soaking his white button-down and the front of her soft pink dress.

Any feelings or confidence Don had felt prior had been instantly replaced by embarrassment as he steadied the young girl with a hand on her waist.

“I’m so sorry! I’m the biggest clutz!” You exclaim whilst shaking your hands to remove any lingering drops of brown liquid.

Don takes this opportunity to take in the young woman who stood before him. A once pale pink dress perfectly hugs your frame, complimenting the soft curls in your hair and the scarlet tinge of your lips. As your face reddens with embarrassment, Don realises he had been staring in admiration whilst you continue to spew apologies.

“No, it’s okay. It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking.” He reassures, withdrawing his hand in the process.

“I’m sorry. I really should get going before I trip and accidentally kill someone!” You joke, but it fails to fool Don as he catches the tears brewing in your eyes.

“You were great!” You add before running towards the exit as the tears threaten to spill.

Don turns to check that any of his fellow teammates are not watching him, knowing it would be the main topic of conversation at training the next day if they saw him run after a girl.

Once satisfied they were all distracted, he took off in your direction.

Upon leaving the auditorium, the darkness made it difficult to see anything, let alone your slight stature, until he heard faint sobs around the corner of the building. Sure enough, the cries led him straight to you, your arms wrapped around your body that shakes with each sob.

Don raises a gentle hand to your shoulder, careful not to frighten you.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks softly.

“Oh yes, I’m fine. I was just worried about getting caught covered in booze when I returned to the dorms… I’m on a scholarship and need a clean slate to keep it.” You utter between sobs, and Don realises that you both may have more in common than he had once thought.

“I understand; I’m only here because of the team…I’m always worried I’m going to screw it all up.” He confesses, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously.

“Oh, come on, Hume, everyone knows you’re the best stroke Washington’s had in years!” You chuckle; your sweet smile doesn’t go unnoticed by Don.

“Hey, I have clean clothes back at my dorm. If you want to borrow a jacket, or something before you head home?” He doesn’t know why he suggested this, but he’ll do anything not to say goodbye just yet.

“Don’t you want to stay and celebrate?” You sniffle.

“I was about to leave anyways; I got to practice early tomorrow.” Don lies and, without hesitation takes the girl's hand in his as he guides her toward his dormitory.

Upon reaching the dorm, Dons realises his guest may not be impressed by his bare bedroom. However, when he unlocks the door, you enter without hesitation, making yourself comfortable on the edge of his twin bed, feet dangling below.

“So, do you like rowing?” You pipe up as he searches his cupboard for a coat with minimal holes, settling on a fleece bomber jacket.

“Well, I’m getting a job out of it and a room, so yeah.” He mutters, closing the cupboard door behind him.

“I think it’s more than that; I’ve seen how you row.” You tease, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“You’ve been watching me?” Don questions, struggling to believe a girl as beautiful as yourself would ever take notice of him.

“Hard not to.” You admit, smiling softly.

Don notices the goosebumps on your arms and places the jacket around your shoulders. With his tall stature the garment almost swallows you up, but you wrap yourself in it nonetheless.

“I suppose I should be getting home.” You announce after a minute of silence.

“I’ll walk you back.” Don insists, wanting to savour any time left with you.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t; if my hall director sees you walking me home this late, she’ll get the wrong idea.” The girl giggles as Dons face glows bright.

“You can’t walk back alone. It’s nearly midnight.” Don objects, taking your hand in his as if he was pleading. Although he had only known you briefly, the thought of anything bad happening to you made his stomach churn.

“You can stay with me-“ He adds before fully acknowledging the inappropriateness of his offer. To his surprise, your face doesn’t appear disgusted, and instead, you flash your sweet smile.

“What about your bunkmate?” You giggle.

“Oh… I have a feeling he’s not coming back tonight.” Don mutters, glancing over at Shorty’s empty cot.

“Well, if that’s what you want…” You trail off before Don interjects.

“It is,” He assures, Bobby’s encouragement from earlier replays in his head as he bows down to meet your gaze.

You can’t help but lift your hand to brush the loose strands of hair that frame his face back. Don takes this gesture as permission to kiss you.

You intertwine your bodies together as you lower yourselves onto the mattress. You’re unsure whether it’s the liquor or the feeling of Don's strong hands on your body that causes your head to spin as you hesitantly pull away.

“Are you okay?” Don asks, his brow furrowed in concern that he had done something wrong.

“Yeah, my head is sore, probably from all the drinking.” You reply, and he places a calloused hand on your forehead.

“Hmm, you should probably get some sleep,” Don murmurs as he rolls onto his back, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. You tuck your knees up, resting them against his side as he strokes your hair gently.

“Good night, Don…” You’re voice trails off as you fall asleep feeling the safest you’ve been since leaving your childhood home months ago.

Don, who had never been much of a talker, places a soft kiss on your forehead before dozing off himself.

#don hume #don hume x reader #jack mulhern #tbitb #the boys in the boat #callum turner #fem reader #Spotify

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valeriele3 · 7 months ago

Note

hello! I've been craving some octotrio angst and was wondering if you would indulge lol. if it's within your boundaries, what about a reader who struggles with self harm?

Octotrio x GN!Yuu/Reader

The reader in this fic is Yuu although the fic is mostly in 2nd pov ^^; Warnings: Self-harm(reader/Yuu), attempted suicide(reader/Yuu), and implied depression(reader/Yuu), not proofread (Please lmk if I missed smth) Words: 2019

Self-harm

It was one of the things you thought you'd never do.

Everything was perfect; your life was perfect, or so you thought.

You were grateful; you really were. You had both your parents, had nice siblings, or, if you ignore the usual sibling shenanigans, they were nice, your grandparents had always supported you, you had a lot of friends, good grades, you never had to go through a day with an empty stomach, and even lived in a decently sized house.

So where did it all go wrong? Why have you fallen into this hole? When did it start?

All you knew was that one moment everything was perfect, and the other everything seemed to crumble down.

Little by little, the beautiful tower you had built crumbled and turned into ruin.

The anger, the sadness, and the fatigue that you had been keeping locked away burst open, spilling all over.

No matter how much you try to scoop it up and place it back into its container, it leaks back. After all, a broken container can't keep everything inside; it'll continue to leak.

The festering emotions got too much to handle.

And so, you just gave up.

Why try to contain something that'll somehow keep getting out?

You hid

You cried

Pleading that someone, anyone, to help you, to rescue you, to be that prince who rescues his damsel in those fairytales you've read as a child.

But, oh, you've mistaken something. Life isn't a fairytale; it never was and isn't even close to being one. This is reality; there is no shining prince to rescue you, and there is no happily ever after.

But then, you thought of something; why not distract yourself instead?

If, for even a second, you could forget about your troubles, wouldn't that be great?

Although temporarily, you can be free.

'Ah, but isn't self-harm bad?'

'I̵̬͝'̸̨̈́m̷͒�� ̸͙̅s̷̹̋u̶̫͗r̵̠̾e̸̘͝ ̶̳̈́i̵͓͂t̷̤͊'̷̞̓ṣ̷̃ ̶̪̆f̴̮̔i̸̳͆n̸̜̊e̵̤̍.̸̱̈́ ̸͎͝Ì̷͖t̸͙͠'̶͇̄s̴̻͛ ̶̛̼ó̴ͅn̴̝͝l̸̤͛ý̵̤ ̴̹̔ó̴̖n̴̖̄c̶̻̈́e̵̦͘ ̶̟̀o̷̻̎r̶̺͛ ̷̬̄t̵̜̏ẃ̴̠i̴̗̇c̵̱͌ȩ̶̑ ̶̺͋a̶̱͋n̷̪͘ỳ̴̖w̷̤̐a̷̟͋ỳ̸̟.̵̠̂'

'Just o̵̪͒n̴̜̈c̵̤̃e̴͕̚ then..'

Oh, how foolish you were.

Once someone feels the relief they've been longing for, it's hard to let go.

They'll keep seeking it.

They'll keep wanting.

They'll grow to be reliant on that addictive feeling of your worries going away.

With each passing day, week, and month, the scars on your arm increase.

Your family has grown worried.

Their once cheerful child suddenly turned gloomy. Oh, what could have happened to their beloved child? But alas, they never dared to ask.

They just watched as you spiraled down into the abyss.

Everyone did

T̶̻̑h̶̄ͅĕ̷͖r̸̩̀a̶̫̕p̴̝͝y̶̧̎

You and your 'friends' were hanging out during lunch.

You sat at the farthest corner, listening to their laughter, when suddenly one of them piped up, "Hey, Yuu, you should go to a therapist; otherwise, you might just infect everyone with that gloom you have." Everyone seemed to think it was funny and burst into laughter.

That comment was obviously a jab at you, but.. maybe they were right.

A therapist—you never thought of that. Maybe.. you can return to your old ways if you try it out.

You had been going to a therapist for the past 2 years.

The progress is slow, but there's a bit of improvement, at least.

You were slowly returning to being a "normal human being."

You'll be free.

Soon

You'll be free from the shackles.

You just have to endure a bit more.

'̶̯͠A̶͓͠h̸͎̊,̵͇̈ ̸̺̍ȟ̶̜o̷̬͒w̵̠̎ ̸̤̏s̸̬̅t̸͙͠ǘ̸̠p̷̙͝i̷̯͝d̶͔̂ ̷͈̚I̶̧͗ ̷̤̉w̴̩̄ȃ̸ͅs̸̠̿ ̴͚̀ť̴̫o̴͉͛ ̴̜͗b̸͎̏ę̷̂l̷̰̂ị̶̈́ẻ̵̩v̴̟͐e̶̗͘ ̷͒͜ḽ̷͌ì̷͙f̶̹̓ḙ̷̂ ̶͒͜w̸̻̿o̷͚͛ų̴̛l̶͈̉d̵̠̀ ̷̧̈́b̵̛̜e̷͍̾ ̴͙̓t̴̞̋h̶̥̍à̶̫t̶̖̿ ̶͈͛ë̶͎́a̸̭̍s̷͚͂y̷̼̾'̴̯͝

Just when you thought life had finally smiled upon you

Everything seemed to crumble again.

Your failing grades had caught up to you; your family is now struggling to make ends meet; and the people around you slowly left one by one.

"̵̭́W̷͔͂h̵̯̚ỵ̸̐?̴̧̕"̷̰͆

̸̳̂"̵̦͊I̵̡͝'̶̺̑l̷̼̈́l̸̬͌ ̴͓͠b̸̩͌e̷̳͒ ̶̪͝b̴̨͆ḛ̶̊ṯ̸͘t̵͈̅e̵͓͐r̸̫̃ ̶̮͝t̵̫̓h̵̻͐i̷̖̅ș̴̎ ̸̞͌t̶̼̆i̵͓̿m̸͓̀ë̵̻́!̵̪͂ ̴̙̀P̴̋ͅl̶͔̾e̸͇͌a̴͍̾s̶̬͝e̴͉͑ ̴̺̈́c̶̜͊o̷̘͝m̷̩͛é̶̟ ̷̜̊b̷̦͝ä̶͎́c̷͍̐k̶̩̓!̸̭̒"̶̞́

Everything crumbled beyond repair

Life.. felt hopeless and useless; it was painful.

You were walking down the street when you thought

'Maybe if I were to rush into oncoming traffic, my pain will finally end'

Just as you were about to take a step towards the traffic, you heard a horse neighing.

You turn your head to the left and see a carriage heading your way.

You were frozen.

One part wanted to move away from danger, and the other wanted to stay in place.

Y̵͚̋ò̵̝u̴͍͑ ̴͔̍w̴̪͆ã̴̙n̷̠͝t̷̖͌e̴̳̍d̶̖̑ ̸̦͆t̵̗͑o̷̫̓ ̶̙̉l̶̞̔i̵̦̿v̵̩̈́e̷̡̔

Not even a second later, you collide with the carriage.

'Ah, I guess I really am destined for a bad ending'

"Shrimpy~, wake up!"

"Floyd, I'd wish for you to please not bother the prefect."

"Eh~, but they're cryin' in their sleep."

"What?" Jade and Azul say in sync.

"Floyd! What did you do?!"

"Wha~t? Me? I didn't do anythin'!"

"Don't blame me, blame Jade!"

"I don't see why I should be blamed, Floyd."

"I bet you made Shrimpy cry with your weird mushrooms!"

"I don't see any reason for my sweet innocent mushrooms to be dragged into this conversation" Jade says, giving his signature customer service smile.

Grumbles and mischevious laughter fill the room.

"All right, stop it, both of you. You'll wake the prefect up if you continue this childish banter."

"Aha ha! It looks like your warning came off late, Azul~"

"Welcome to the world, Shrimpy!"

"Ahem..I believe it was, "Welcome back to the land of the living," Floyd" Jade snickers.

Floyd ignores Jade and opts to engulf you in a hug instead.

You feel him squeeze tighter and tighter until you can barely breathe.

"F-Floyd- a-ir"

Azul gives Jade a pointed look, signaling him to stop Floyd in his assault lest you go back to being knocked out.

After catching your breath, you look around the room you're currently in.

You were in the lounge VIP room.

"Ahem, um, what am I doing here?"

"Hm? Do you not remember?" Azul turns to you

"No, I don't think so.?"

Floyd was about to say something when suddenly Azul stopped him from saying anything further.

"Jade"

"Yes sir"

With that simple exchange, Jade drags Floyd out of the room.

'Weird..'

"Since it seems that you've forgotten, allow me to refresh your memory."

"You see, you came here to have lunch, but then suddenly you fainted! We were so worried that we decided to graciously let you rest in here until you woke up."

"I see.." 'I guess that explains why my head is sore..Although it feels more like I got hit rather than some sort of mental pain..'

You decide to trust Azul this time

"Anyways, feel free to rest some more or leave if you feel like you can move without any problems."

"Right, well then, thank you for taking care of me." You begin to stand up, only to almost fall down.

It seems that your leg fell asleep.

You chuckle awkwardly. "Or... maybe staying a bit won't hurt."

"I..Please stay as long as you find necessary." Azul pretends to have seen nothing.

After resting for a bit, you exit the room and walk around the place.

Noticing a glint in the corner, you turn your body towards the source.

You come face-to-face with a room full of aquariums.

No, can you even call it that? The room was so majestic, it almost felt as if you were in the ocean itself.

It felt.. relieving, serene, and healing.

Suddenly, you were engulfed in a hug.

You tried to turn your head, but the person ensured that you wouldn't be able to see them, even hiding their face in the crook of your neck.

But hidden or not, you could easily tell it was Floyd. Due to the number of times he'd hugged you, you learned to recognize it right away when it was him who hugged you.

"Who made you cry?" His voice, barely above a whisper, was laced with concern, sadness, and anger.

"Cry? What do you mean, Floyd?"

You received no reply.

Just as you were about to speak up, your eyes got covered by someone's hands.

Naturally, you started to panic, but then a gentle voice spoke, "Don't keep everything inside. It's alright to cry." You recognized the voice to be Jades.

The tightness around your chest, your vision blocked, only able to rely on your sense of hearing

It would make one panic.

It felt suffocating, but.. for once in your life, this tightness, this darkness you feel around you, felt warm, comforting, welcoming, and protecting.

Footsteps..

You hear footsteps make their way towards you.

You can hear them stop in front of you.

"Yuu, don't be afraid. It's alright, you can let it all out."

"We'll be here supporting you."

It was Azul; he tries to sound confident and maintain his usual composure, but you can easily tell by his tone of voice that he feels awkward saying this.

Suddenly, you feel a sort of gust of wind, and next thing you know, the solid floor you had been standing on is gone.

You panic once again and try to speak up, but a finger, presumably Azuls, shushes you.

The tweels let go of their hold on you. You opened your eyes, and in front of you was complete darkness.

"Jade? Azul? Floyd? Where are you?"

You turn but something feels off.

The pressure you feel makes it feel like you're underwater.

All of a sudden, a light enters your field of vision.

Two blobs?

You notice the two glowing things getting closer to you.

Hurriedly, you try to swim away as fast as you can, but something else keeps you in place.

Something slippery, like tentacles, held you in place.

You close your eyes, accepting your fate, but after a few beats of nothing happening, you open your eyes to see once again, only this time you could actually see something and not just darkness.

In front of you were the tweels, with one of them barely being able to contain his laugh, and the tentacles that held you in place belonged to none other than Azul Ashengrotto himself.

Upon noticing your gaze, the octopus man, as if acting on instinct, slaps your face in the other direction.

You stare dumbfoundedly.

"Ah, ahem..I sincerely apologize for.. slapping you, Prefect."

Floyd, no longer able to contain his laughter, bursts out laughing, "Pfft- Aha ha! Shrimpy looked so scared, and Tako-chan accidentally..Pfft"

Azul gave Floyd a pointed glare. "Hmph, and here I thought you'd dropped that Tako-chan ages ago" he mumbled.

"Fufu~ As entertaining as this is, I'm afraid you guys just traumatized the prefect."

After giving all the explanations (Especially how you're able to breathe underwater and not die from the water pressure..) and needed sorry's, they officially started the so-called "Give the Prefect a relaxing day." mission.

The name really didn't match any of the events that happened today, but.. you can't do anything about what's already happened, sadly.

And so, the rest of the day consisted of them dragging you around the ocean and showing you things they thought you'd like.

Visiting the city and just having fun.

"Azul, Jade, Floyd! Look! It's ice cream! Underwater!! This has to be magical ice cream!"

The octotrio watched as you admired the ice cream you had in your hand. It was like watching a child see ice cream for the first time.

Seeing the smile on your face, the trio deemed the mission accomplished.

Tired, you and the trio decided to rest in a nearby, secluded spot.

"Thank you"

"Hm? Did you say something, Prefect?" Jade asks.

"Ah, no, it's nothing." You smile, silently thanking the trio once again.

After a while, you unknowingly fell asleep, and when you awoke, you were back at the Ramshackle dorm, safely tucked away in bed.

You figured that maybe what happened was just a dream.

Unbeknownst to you, however, while you were still asleep, the trio swore an oath to make sure you were protected and would never be hurt again. Be it physical or mentally

The scars on your arms felt different this time around. As if someone had kissed it so lovingly and thanked you for being still alive that you were still here in the world, but, oh well, it's probably just your mind making things up, right?

.ೃ࿐Reblogs are highly appreciated! ^^

I'm so sorry for this abominationnnn. I lost all the vision I had by the time the trio appeared, and when I regained it, it was already too late, as I had already written a lot. And the ending is so rushed too T-T

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storiesoflilies · 6 months ago

Text

school bus love (3)

synopsis: a plan of action was hatched. the only question was, did she have the guts to do it?

pairing: teen!toji fushiguro x teen!f!reader

warnings: none.

a/n: my friends are hilarious. we are all still besties to this day, despite the distance. isn’t that wonderful? @mxrgxth @asa-23 also yes, i watch food wars. i regret nothing lol xo

part 2 // part 4

“girl, just do it.”

“i- yeeeeeesh- no! i can’t.”

“why the hell not? it’s not a big deal.”

“it completely is!”

“adding someone on snapchat is not a big deal, bitch. just do it.”

she had been carefully been scheming away in the haven of her pile of marshmallow-soft pillows, feeling like a naughty little witch brewing all sorts of potions over a bubbling black cauldron. the plan had been simple: add more and more of her new classmates on snapchat, patiently biding her time until toji’s username inevitably popped up in quick add. and finally, after what seemed like forever, his profile was there – his little bitmoji staring at her like it knew exactly what she was up to.

she picked the sides of her nails, staring a hole into her glowing phone, yet another re-run of food wars! playing on her laptop amidst all the emotional turmoil.

“this has been quite the extensive operation,” morgoth piped up, the almost deafening background noise from his end of the line muffling his words. “don’t pussy out now.”

“exactly,” asa sighed wistfully, a rare moment of agreement, probably sick of hearing about any and all interactions she had with toji over the last two months.

she stared at his bitmoji for just a moment longer, quite certain that toji was spying on her through its overly green eyes, and hoped for a cataclysmic event that would actually be him adding her instead.

although, waiting for that would have been more torturous than taking a brave leap of faith.

her finger hovered over the ‘add’ button, trembling delicately.

something caused her breath to catch in her throat, and her fingertip edged closer.

morgoth snorted, the sudden loudness echoing through her headphones, and startling her out of her wits.

a chain reaction has begun.

the dominos were falling one by one.

and she pressed it.

she pressed the button.

a gasp, accompanied by a shriek, and she flew off the edge of her bed, staring at her phone, wondering if toji was looking at his screen with his lip curled in disgust.

“did you do it?” asa asked, clearly bemused by her antics.

“uh huh,” she squealed, her eyes still locked on her phone that had turned black.

she felt a churning sensation in her stomach, nerves setting her whole body tingling as if she was in a bath filled with electric eels, and bit the inside of her cheek.

why did crushes have to feel so damn delirious?

it was debilitating, yet so very addictive. she loved playing the game, chasing the high of a victory tantalizingly out of reach.

“and now we wait,” morgoth said, almost bored. “that was kinda anticlimactic.”

she huffed in annoyance, feeling a flare of irritation as her already frazzled nerves riled her up more than they should have. “listen, you dickh-“

her phone vibrated and lit up.

a familiar yellow ghost popped up.

badum! boom! badum!

she yelped and grabbed her phone, clambering back onto her bed.

toji fushiguro has added you as a friend!

“oh my god,” she gaped, a hand clasped over her jaw as it swung wide open. “guys.”

“what? what?” asa giggled, the rustling of sheets audible from his end of the line. “did he add you back?”

“uh huh,” was all she could muster in awe.

“let’s gooooo!” morgoth cheered.

“fuck, guys. what the fuck do i do now?”

well, whatever she decided to do, it absolutely had to wait. she couldn’t immediately respond in any sort of way; otherwise, she would seem desperate. no, she wanted to exude coolness, suaveness, and seem without a care in the world – especially not about gorgeous boys, with gorgeous eyes, and gorgeous…

“message him?” morgoth suggested, quite naively.

her and asa hissed in annoyance almost simultaneously. “absolutely not. are you stupid?” she snapped.

“well, i don’t know. what was the point of all this then if you weren’t going to message the guy?”

she made a string of incoherent noises, sputtering out, “i didn’t get that far!”

“listen,” asa interjected, the grounding voice of reason and calm. “leave it for five minutes, then send him a streak.”

a metaphorical lightbulb sprung to life above her head.

“fuck, you’re smart,” she whispered with reverence, taking a deep breath and unlocking her phone.

she spent that time deciding on what sort of snap she would take. would she do a classic forehead picture and just say ‘streaks’? or should she opt for the standard blacked out picture with just the letter ‘S’? no, if she was to catch toji’s attention, she had to stand out from the crowd.

she snapped a perfect frame of soma’s flourishing cooking technique and typed out a quick ‘streaks 🍳’.

and hit send.

for the second time that night, she dramatically fell to the floor with a loud thump. “i did it!”

“so proud of you,” morgoth remarked sarcastically. “when’s the wedding?”

“m, shut up,” asa huffed, tutting before asking. “girl, how do you feel?”

“on fire, but what if he ignores it? then that means he definitely doesn’t like me.”

“not really, hun. maybe he just doesn’t bother with streaks like m.”

“i agree, i always forget them.”

“don’t worry, we know.”

buzz!

toji fushiguro sent you a snap!

“guys, guys! he answered!” she exclaimed, rolling over and kicking her legs in the air.

“don’t open it!” asa screeched. “leave it for a minute.”

the next sixty seconds were absolutely agonizing, each second clawing its way through muddy trenches as shells rained down from the sky. she was breathing hard, a live tripwire, a bazooka ready to explode. as soon as the minute was up, she tapped on the red square to open toji’s snap.

she sucked in a breath.

there he was, wearing a tight grey t-shirt, with a close-up picture of his forearm and bicep, and a simple ‘streaks’ across the screen.

“guys,” she giggled. “i think i won.”

general taglist (open): @tadabzzzbee @wannapizzamymindposts @stromynight

school bus love taglist (open): @badbyeyoongi

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x y/n #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 months ago

Text

Imagine...Running Into Colter On A Job

Pairing: Colter Shaw x reader

A/N: I've been re-watching Tracker before Season 2 starts and I'm dipping my toe in the Colter fanfic world finally! Just a little something short, sweet and sassy to start with!

________

Your heart skipped a beat as you rounded the corner and spotted a man, his expression turning confused. “Colter Shaw?”

“Y/N?” You cleared the room before going to where he was handcuffed to a pipe. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you apparently.” You pulled your lock pick from the back of your jeans, jamming it in the key hole. “How’d this happen?”

“What are you doing here?” He repeated, an edge of agitation in his voice this time. You snapped the cuff open, frowning at him as he popped to his feet.

“Working the same job as you.” You got up, his hand on your arm pulling you up but you quickly shrugged him off.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, grabbing your bicep again, keeping you behind him. You punched him in the arm, Colter dropping you, rubbing his shoulder. “What the hell-”

“Do not treat me like a damsel, Shaw. I saved your ass, remember?” You brushed on ahead of him, taking your small handgun from the waistband of your jeans. He wanted to retort but you shushed him, Colter scowling but staying behind you.

You cleared the building quickly, only slightly surprised when you found the teenager you were looking for sat uncomfortably on a chair while an older man watched TV in the corner. Colter tapped your shoulder, pointing at the kid. You rolled your eyes but went along with it. If he wanted to get in a wrestling match with the big guy, he could go for it.

Two minutes later Colter was sat on the man’s back, securing him with the zip tie you tossed over from your jacket pocket.

“Hey, Henry,” you said, the kid looking relieved. “Your step dad do anything to you?”

“No. I just want to go home.” You helped him to his feet, giving Colter a nod.

“Then let’s get you home, buddy.”

“Shaw,” you grit out in the parking lot of the police station a few hours later. Colter glanced up from his phone before shoving it in his pocket. “What the hell was that back there?”

“Nice to see you too,” he chuckled. “What are you doing-”

“Are you allergic to answering a question?” you prodded, crossing his arms. His eyebrows shot up, a stupid smile on his face. “I asked you first.”

“Wow. You are not the timid accountant you once were.” You scoffed.

“First off, you met me when I’d been kidnapped. I was having a rough day. Is that why you were so pushy back at the farm?”

He sighed, looking over your head. “Listen, I don’t know what you were capable of. I didn’t need another kidnapping victim on my hands.”

You smiled, stepping in closer, his adam’s apple bobbing. “The balls on you to say that to the person that, oh, literally helped you escape? Hm?”

He frowned, rolling his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are,” you said, walking past him for your truck.

“Wait!” he said, jogging to your side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Does this answer it?” you said, pulling out an envelope full of reward money. Colter looked dumbfounded and you found the expression sort of adorable on his handsome face. “Sorry, seeing as how I found their son, the parents felt I deserved the reward.”

“You track rewards? You?” You patted his cheek, shaking your head.

“It’s a good thing you’re so handsome,” you teased, turning your back to him with a whistle. “Better luck next time, Shaw!”

“But…you’re an accountant!” he called after you.

“Former accountant,” you said, spinning around, walking backwards with a grin. “Turns out I make way more money doing this. A little weapons training here, a little martial arts there and a pushup bra go a long fucking way, Colter.”

“The fuck…” he trailed off as you winked at him. “Y/N!”

“Catch you on the next one, Colter!”

___________

#colter shaw x reader #colter shaw #tracker #tracker fanfiction #colter shaw fanfiction #colter shaw fanfic #colter x reader #colter shaw x female!reader #colter x female!reader #tracker fanfic #colter shaw imagine #justin hartley

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gunraekae · 9 months ago

Text

having an off day

Ophelia by Friedrich Heyser

>ikemen vampire

>mansion residents x reader

>a/n: so sorry for the weird formatting in advance. i hope it makes sense. enjoy!

>part 2: how your evening and night went

You woke up with the weight of an oppressive dread. A black hole in you seemed to suck the vitality out of you. Usually your spirit was at least alive and willing to get you out of bed, but this morning, it was only dead static in your chest. You could chalk it up to feeling homesick or hopelessness with your predicament, but nonetheless, you were not up to it at all today.

Still, you willed yourself out of bed, afraid to let Sebastian and the residents down (though you knew they wouldn’t fault you for being off, you still felt the obligation because Le Comte is letting you stay for free, after all.)

On that note, the residents would fs feel a disturbance in the force if you weren’t out in the mansion today. You not being there would set off a chain reaction and have them be grumpy and having off days too.

While setting up breakfast with Sebastian, you asked for the cleaning tasks for the rest of the day. You loved the residents but unfortunately could muster up no energy to talk to anyone today. Sebastian's obviously the first to catch on, and as the mansion’s biggest gossip, will spread this notion to any and every vampire he encounters. Thankfully, he didn't question it and hesitantly granted you permission. He usually doesn’t give you the heavier tasks like cleaning, but seeing your dour mood, he caught on that you wanted the solitude.

While passing out breakfast for the morning vampires (Arthur, Vincent, Theo, Dazai, Isaac, Mozart, Comte) you were unusually quiet. Usually, you would bashfully respond to Arthur’s flirty remarks or retaliate to Theo’s teasing, but today you only acknowledged everyone with a slight (and very forced) smile.

Dazai Osamu

I'm of the belief that Dazai has a sadness antenna that catches on to everyone’s emotions as soon as they feel them. So best believe that as soon as you woke up, he could already sense a disturbance in the force.

So when you very quietly poured tea for him, he placed a gentle hand on your arm and gave you a silent “are you ok?” look. He could tell that you didn’t want to bring attention to yourself, but also didn’t want to leave you like this.

The deal he made with you when you first arrived came to mind. He proposed that whenever you felt even the slightest inclination of sadness, that you came to him to confide in (because you know he gets it fs).

You acknowledged it with a solemn nod, wanting to communicate that you remembered the promise but couldn’t do it just yet. Dazai pursed his lips in quiet uncertainty, but allowed you to continue your chores.

Later in the afternoon, while tending to the gardens outside, Dazai nonchalantly sat by your working figure. He settled for watching you work before piping up, “how fortunate the flowers are to be cared for by you.” You may have jumped a little bit, having been lost in your thoughts.

Dazai’s gentle smile seemed more genuine this time; not quite the clownish mask he usually wore. “Unfortunately for you, I may be the only one who understands your predicament the most.” He walked next to you, a serene silence in the air.

You confess as much of your melancholy as you could put into words while Dazai remained contemplative and respectfully quiet. Whether it was your mental wellness being disturbed, thoughts of home, or even just a broad exhaustion, Dazai will listen and understand. Sometime during your tirade, tears seeped out from your eyes unnoticed, except by his golden eyes. He softly cupped your cheek and wiped your tears away; his touch never more than gentle.

At that moment, Dazai touched your face as if it was a delicate flower petal about to fall to its demise. His heart clenched in both tender affection at your vulnerability around him, and deep anguish that it was you who suffered and he couldn’t take that burden instead. How was it that a beautiful angel like you was tormented at this moment and not him, the sinful monster who was deserving of your burden and more. Still, he kept those demeaning thoughts quiet and yearned that his love could be felt in his gentle touches to your cheek.

Dazai is the most sensitive to others’ emotions and will be the first to catch on to any of your mood changes. He'd rather die than leave you toiling in your own sadness, so he’ll follow you around until you confide in him. As tragic as it is, it’s his responsibility to make sure no one else, and especially not someone he cares about so deeply like you, feels the same torture he does.

Arthur Conan Doyle

The writers are perceptive and sensitive to people’s emotions and characters, and usually you love them for that. Today, it made you the slightest bit frustrated. With only a meek “thank you” to Arthur’s compliment of, “your beautiful face is the perfect start to this day, love” he knew something was wrong.

You poured his coffee quietly, hoping no one would pay attention to you. Arthur placed a soft hand against your back and asked lowly, “are you alright? Did something happen?” you shook your head and gave him an appreciative smile.

You moved to pour Theo’s drink next, but Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist. He motioned for you to come closer and so you leaned down.

“I've got to run errands in town today, but I'll find you once I get back. Do you think you can talk to me then?” he whispered.

“I'm not sure.”

“I hate to leave you like this, love, really. At least promise me you can hold out until later and you can take all your frustration out on me, yes?” you find yourself laughing a little at his suggestion. He smiled in victory and gave your waist a small squeeze before letting you go.

Once Arthur returns from his errands, it’s just nearing lunch. True to his word, he finds you in the mansion (good luck evading his genius mind) and vows to take you out for a meal. You can refuse all you want, but it truly does wound him seeing you the slightest bit upset. Maybe his past influences that, but nonetheless, he wants to make you happy.

He’ll do everything in his power to make you laugh, and if that doesn’t work, he’ll try and pester you so that you take your anger out on him.

He treats you like a princess during the date, hooking his arm under yours, pushing your chair in, paying for everything, and if you were up to it, taking you shopping afterwards.

He’ll try and seek out a case nearby as those tend to cheer you up and serve as a welcome distraction.

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, he might have already caught on to what made you upset and will subtly offer a word of advice or comfort, depending on whichever you needed. And he’s perceptive enough to catch on to what you need.

Nevertheless, the author’s darling attempts of alleviating your mood will likely be a success. Arthur is one of the tragic ones who would rather suffer than even endure the thought of his cared ones being upset. And you’re the one who brought new light into his revived life, so admittedly, he enjoys being there for you. If you allow him past your walls, Arthur would do just about everything to prove it was worth doing so. His care may be hidden under layers of deceptive and cliché flirtation, but a little unravelling shows just how tenderly he cares for you. So while his attempts do reflect that playboy life, the warm hand on your back proves there is no one in this new life he treasures more than yourself.

Theodorus van Gogh

Still feeling Arthur’s and Dazai’s worried looks on your back, you moved on to Theo, who was unfortunately, less perceptive than the two.

“Took you long enough, hondje. Dogs aren’t known to be so slow.” he huffed, having already placed a generous amount of sugar in his cup. You could barely register the small, “sche uit, Theo,” from Vincent. Still, his comment served to sour your mood even further, a sinking feeling in your heart suddenly blurring your eyes.

Your spatial awareness being off, you almost overfilled Theo’s cup. This time, he took notice of your shaky and meek manner. He was about to complain, but when you turned to him to apologise, he saw your teary eyes.

“You hurt? What happened? Who hurt you?” Theo immediately asked in concern. You shook your head in alarm. His handsome face scrunched in concern, and he reached out to seize your arm to steady its shaking. He set down the coffee pot and checked if your arm got burnt.

he gruffly passed the coffee pot to his brother, and when he was faced with questioning looks from the rest of the table he simply said, “you pour your own damn coffee.” He motioned for you to leave, wanting to relieve you of your duties for this morning as a small mercy.

Theo is unfortunately one of the busier men of the mansion, so he can’t do much until the evening when he returns. So despite the tense morning, there’s no resolution until after supper. what his words can’t deliver though, his actions do.

Regardless of how many residents have comforted you, you remained silent and thoughtful. Their efforts were greatly appreciated, but your energy was still depleted.

Theo catches you right after cleaning up with Sebastian. He hid a large box behind his broad back, strangely timid from his usual bold character. He cleared his throat, “hondje, I brought you something home from work. you told me you liked this last time I took you out for a walk.”

He stepped aside to show you the large and very sweetly decorated cake in the box. you knew how expensive it was, and for a man like Theo, who was quite savvy with money, you felt a tinge of guilt for making him waste money on you.

“Theo, thank you. I don't know what to say, you really didn’t have to.”

“Hush hondje. A master’s supposed to take care of his puppy. And you’ve been working hard lately—you deserve a little treat.”

Of course, Theo indulges in the dessert with you, he may have bought it partly for himself too. But when he saw you enjoying something he gave you, it warmed his heart. Perhaps your smile is sweeter than any dessert he’s had before—and he’s got quite a sweet tooth.

Theo can be brash, and not nearly as emotionally perceptive as the others. So initially, he’ll be his usual gruff and teasing self. But he’s a good man (savannah), and will always serve you, regardless of the master-puppy dynamic he’s got going on. He’s weak to you, and would hand you the world just to get a glimpse of your sweet smile again. He can’t have his pretty girl sad, that makes him a terrible master.

Vincent van Gogh

You shook your head, insisting that you stay to help Sebastian. Theo disapprovingly shook his head and tried to stop you from doing more work, but you’d already moved to Vincent’s side.

Vincent already caught on as soon as Theo asked if you were okay. He poured his coffee himself, so you passed him the small bowl of butter and served a plate of sliced fruit to help. Vincent gently stroked your back, “Schatje, we’re just fine here, you can sit down. Have you had breakfast yourself yet?” knowing you never liked to put yourself first.

“I'm just fine, Vincent. thank you.” you stuttered out. He hummed in concern, “Sebas told me you were doing laundry outside today. I'll come help you, if that’s alright?” you shook your head, touched at his kind offer, but dreadful over having a companion. As sweet as Vincent was, you were afraid of being too brash with him, with how short your patience was today.

“We don't have to talk or anything, I'm offering because I want to, mc. please?” Vincent’s pleading eyes were too precious, so you gave him a hesitant nod.

Vincent brightened up, his angelic smile lifting your spirits up slightly. with a warm day like today, he usually painted outside anyway. at least you wouldn’t have to be with him the whole time.

He gave your arm an appreciative squeeze before you left. you weren’t sure how to thank him exactly.

True to his word, the moment you stepped foot outside, you were greeted with his “could heal any and every problem in the world” smile. He was extra handsome wearing his simple, white, button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up.

You gave him an appreciative nod, a bit flustered with having someone help you with such a simple task. Still, Vincent pleasantly hummed with no complaints, hanging the clothes you washed.

It’s true that his hands were blessed by god, but his somewhat clumsy work with clipping the clothes on the line was a contrast to his paintings. Still, his determined expression dispelled any frustration you had, with how hardworking and adorable he was.

With Vincent’s help (and the soft melody of Mozart's distant piano playing), the laundry was hung in sufficient time. other than having tea with Comte, you really didn’t have much left to do this early afternoon. Vincent cutely tilted his head in curiosity at your zoned out face.

When he giggled, you snapped out of your stupor and glanced questioningly at him. “sorry! you’re just so cute staring into space like that.” Flustered, you faced away from him.

“Don’t just say things like that Vincent. you’ll give me the wrong idea.”

“I mean it though. you’re adorable even just breathing.” He was doing that thing where he innocently compliments you, but just like his brother, actually wants to see you flustered.

“Vincent!”

“and now you’re even lovelier when you’re all embarrassed!” Vincent chuckled, finally relenting when your hands fully covered your burning face.

“Sorry for teasing you. I was just hoping I could make you smile. I know I'm not nearly as funny as Napoleon, or as dependable as Leonardo, but it hurts me to see you in pain, mc.” Vincent gently pried your hands away, holding them in his bigger and warmer ones. He stroked your palms in gentle circles.

Really, he wanted to just wrap you in an embrace and hoped that you would let out your emotions to him. But he knew you needed time and patience before confiding in him. If you allowed it, he would stay all-day with you, just comforting and listening to any of your vulnerable confessions you chose to indulge him to.

Eventually, you did relent to receiving a warm hug from him. you couldn’t see his face, but he was overjoyed you felt safe enough with him to do so.

Angelic Vincent wishes he could take any and every pain you feel and take it all himself. It truly breaks his heart seeing your usually bright spirit so down, so he’ll do everything he can to comfort you. He’s patient and gentle; never crossing any of your boundaries and allowing you to take whatever you need and however long it takes you to find that out. He’ll help you with your work, sing you to sleep, feed you treats (that you hope he didn’t make), and give you as much or as little as you need. He cares about you deeply and only hopes he can be enough to cure at least a little bit of the pain you feel.

Comte de Saint-Germain

Comte's face was already scrunched in worry from the moment you entered the dining hall. his calm and elegant demeanour belied it, but he was eager to finally talk to you. Once you reached his side, you swore you could almost hear the sigh of relief.

“I speak for everyone when I say that no one can start their day right without seeing your face, chérie.” Ever the romantic, Comte wants to reassure you that you’re wanted (needed actually), and that he appreciates your being there.

You’d be hard-pressed not to feel flustered by his words. “You’re exaggerating, Comte, but thank you.” Your usual routine consisted of having tea with Comte in the early afternoon, but you weren’t sure you’d make good company. “about later today comte—“

“I'll have the tea and desserts set up. i’ve found this new patisserie in the city—“

“comte, i’m really sorry—“

“You don’t have to do any work, mc. I want you to take a break.” He was clearly well-intentioned and the break did sound tempting. so with much hesitation, you relented to comte’s demands.

Perhaps a little part of you dreaded it, knowing how protective Comte was over you. He’ll pry, and if he found out that it was another person’s doing that caused your mood, he’ll cause a riot (gracefully and elegantly, mind you). He was already waiting at the garden’s gazebo, a spread of various sweet pastries and steaming tea set up for you.

He perked up upon seeing you, pushing your chair in as you sat down. He poured you tea and placed one of each pastry on your plate while you hopelessly tried to stop him.

“I'm simply ecstatic you could join me today, ma chérie.” he hummed, sipping his tea.

“It's not anyone’s fault, it’s just me.” You wanted to clear up what you knew he was itching to find out. his shoulders sagged down in relief for a brief moment before settling back into his perfect posture.

“That's a relief, but I still want to make sure you’re okay, mc. Come, have some tea.”

You could feel Comte’s golden eyes watching your every move, but otherwise, the tea was excellent and he was certainly generous with all the pastries.

The real surprise was later in the night, after dinner, when comte asked you to meet him in his office. He was on the balcony, gazing out to the Parisian landscape (he would have been smoking then, but he tries not to).

“You called for me, comte?”

“Ah yes. mc.” The way he said your name was admittedly a bit seductive when accompanied by his golden eyes. he had this excited air about him, unknown if it was for innocent or more sinful reasons. He motioned towards a concerningly large box on his table. you opened it, and to your surprise (not really let’s bfr), there was a beautiful silk dress in your favourite colour.

Comte moved close from behind you, and with a quiet “may i?” he delicately put a necklace on your neck, the light brush of his fingers dizzying.

He trailed his hands down to your shoulders and squeezed them, before descending to your arms. “ma chérie, i want to make you feel better. how can i do that for you?” he rubbed your arms up and down before wrapping around your body altogether.

In this position, you could cry in peace, ramble in frustration, or be silent and enjoy his embrace without fear of judgement. He couldn’t see your expression, to save any embarrassment on your end, but he’s still there.

Comte will definitely be protective and try and figure out if it was anyone made you upset. He would commit a murder to whoever did, but if there wasn’t anyone, he’d focus on making you feel better. His love language is gifts, quite obviously, but I also like to believe that he’s an acts of service guy who’d want to make things at least a little easier for you, like giving you a break. He'd want to reward you with gifts, expensive, but the kind that he knows you like. and if that doesn’t show you he cares about you, he’ll stay long enough to help you recover; in a way, he feels proudly possessive, knowing you could show your vulnerability to only him.

Napoleon Bonaparte

As one of the late risers, you were tasked with waking him up in the morning. you did your usual routine of ripping the blankets off him and blocking his kiss with your hand. this time though, you left the former emperor be, once you caught sight of his half-opened eyes.

He took a minute to catch on to your disappearance (forgive him, he’s half-awake) but as soon as it registered in his sleepy brain, he zoomed out of his room to catch your retreating figure.

You knew he was one of the persistent men of the mansion, unable to leave you alone even when you weren’t upset. so this time around, he was hellbent on following you until you’d answer his inquiries.

“Nunuche? what’s gotten into you?” he would quickly catch up to you and grip your arm until you show him your teary face. And only then would he relent and hold your hand instead.

You could confide in him and tell him about all your problems, because after all, he was the man who saved you and vowed to protect you all this time. However, even if you didn’t at that moment, nothing would stop Napoleon from making you feel better.

He would briefly venture into town to absolve him of any of his guard duties so he could remain at your side the entire day. Perhaps a bit of an overreaction on his part, but owing his new life to you, he wanted to prioritise you above all else.

Unlike a certain lazy Italian, this Italian will politely request that you be relieved of your tasks, and though you insisted on at least completing the laundry with Vincent and having tea with Comte, you relented to his demands.

His usual routine was to take you to the stables and run as far as you can on his horse. It was often what helped him dispel the ghosts from his past; the coolness of the afternoon wind was a soothing balm to your face that was drenched with hot tears. He would childishly ignite a race between the two of you through the vast woods surrounding Comte’s mansion, if only to ease your heavy mind with a far less laborious task.

He’d lead you to a small meadow on the outskirts of the fields, far from prying eyes and ears. There you can let any emotion out: whether that was a yell of frustration, a scream of rage, or harsh sobs, Napoleon will do it first, if it removes any embarrassment on your end.

Whether you choose to confide in him or not, (which you likely would, considering how unyieldingly supportive and protective Napoleon had been for you thus far) Napoleon will willingly listen to anything you say. You could wax cheesy poetry, ponder about the origins of the universe, or just recall mundane moments in the mansion, but Napoleon will respond in kind to any silly statement you make.

Napoleon of all people wouldn’t be opposed to having a nap on the soft, dewy grass, under the blanket of the warm setting sun. Once it gets cold though, he’d take you back to the mansion.

If you still felt overwhelmed, he would bring you up to the attic that overlooked the Paris skyline.

Napoleon, as he hopes that you consider him one of your closest companions, would do everything in his power to ease your pain. He’d begin by alleviating your work for the day, and whether that entailed him undertaking those chores or simply helping you with them, he’d do anything. Then, he might try what works best for him when he has his off days, usually in regard to the past, but allow you to dictate what he can or can’t do. Really, he hopes that whatever he does dispels those clouds of anguish and replaces it with some good old Napoleon humour. As the evening closes in, he’d take you to the attic. With only the stars and the moon as your witness, Napoleon would do everything in his power to bring you comfort.

sorry that i wasn't able to write for everyone in this post, but I'll feature the rest (Leonardo, Isaac, Mozart, Jean, and a few bonus characters) on the next post. i just wanted to get some content out now.

if you made it this far, thank you so much for spending your time on my writing. lmk if you enjoyed it (or didn't, but pls be nice abt it I'm sensitive). have a great day, my dear <3

#ikemen series #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire napoleon #ikemen vampire x reader #ikevamp x reader #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire dazai #ikevamp theo #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp arthur

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