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spicyllewyn · 8 months

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Kinktober 6. - Mirror sex.

Moon system x F!Reader

Tags & warnings. Mirror sex + hair pulling. (+18)

Word count. 2.8k

Summary. Marc got tired of Steven and Jake breaking his rules.

Kinktober masterlist.

So far, the agreement had been going relatively well. You were in a serious relationship with Marc at first, you met in a café like those silly romantic movies, with the small difference that you almost killed him by spilling your cold drink on him and tripping over him.

Neither of you could deny that things were moving very fast, but everything with him was so ridiculously easy that you weren't afraid to give him your all. You told him about the pet you lost when you were young, about the disagreements with your parents, and the occasional traumatic event in your life. He did the same.

When he told you about Steven and Jake, you joked that he was winning the trauma competition, and he could breathe easy knowing that this was not even close to being an obstacle to your relationship. He could trust you.

Things began to get a bit out of control when everything also became easy with Jake and Steven, each with their own personal charm. You never imagined being with three very different guys, but starting to experience it was a real adventure. The problem was that while you were having fun, they had endless discussions about you and the boundaries they set for each other.

Well, the boundaries that Marc set.

The main and biggest one was that marks on your body were prohibited. He understood that all four were part of the relationship equally, but he also used something he liked to call "privileges of having met you first and being the main reason why everyone is together." Or something like that, he always changed the name for it, the thing is he couldn't help but be a jealous man, he hated that Jake and Steven would forget who you belonged to first.

The first one to break the rule was Steven, unconsciously. You didn't know anyone who was a bigger fan of make-out sessions than him, and when his kisses got deeper, more desperate, he had the habit of holding onto your hips as if you were about to run away at any moment, or as if he wanted to verify that you were real and that you were in his arms, devouring his mouth as if you depended on it to live.

That, combined with the fact that he had a terrible habit of forgetting that his muscles were stronger than he thought. You tried to be as discreet as possible when his fingers left marks on your skin, but with someone as touchy as Jake, it was impossible to keep secrets about your body.

He took it as a challenge, of course. If Steven could break the rules, why couldn't he?

The next day, you could be sure that he saw you as a blank canvas because your neck, your shoulders, and even your breasts were covered in bites and hickeys. You didn't remember him being so aggressive, but maybe pleasure had blinded you.

"What is this?" Marc held your chin, turning your face slightly, just enough to get a better view of your neck.

"It was Jake." You chuckled, still distracted by your phone as you let him guide you, without noticing how his jaw clenched, but feeling his fingers tighten on your jaw.

"Darling?"

Your eyes traveled to him.

"Mhm?"

"Will you come with me to the bedroom? We need to talk."

With a furrowed brow, you obeyed because the hand that held your chin ended up in one of your hands, pulling you as if he were a child wanting to show you something very important.

"Am I in trouble?" You joked as you watched him close the door behind you.

"Sit on the bed."

"Am I...?"

His brown eyes on you were enough for you to obey once again.

"Could you explain to me what the hell is this?" His hand in your hair made you turn your gaze away from the mirror you had in front, leaving the marks in plain sight.

You immediately understood who he was talking to.

Or whom.

"Oh, come on, hermano." Jake rolled his eyes in the mirror's reflection, his arms crossed over his chest. "Steven broke it first."

"False!" The mentioned objected after. It seemed like a competition of who could make Marc lose his patience first. "I would never do something like that."

"Check her hips if you don't believe me."

Raising an eyebrow, Marc released your hair.

"Stand up, sweetheart."

If there's one thing you've learned over time in this relationship, it's that it's not worth objecting when one or all three of them are arguing, especially when you don't even know what the problem is. You stood up slowly, wearing Steven's blue sweater that you slept in, which only covered half of your thighs.

He slowly lifted the edge of the fabric, his fingers brushing your thighs and causing a slight shiver. You could swear you heard him growl when he found the damn marks that fit perfectly with the size of his hands. Some of them were covered by your panties but they were pretty visible, already turning to a purple color.

“I-I didn't even notice those were there!”

“Why can Steven do it and I can't? That’s a damn injustice if you ask me.”

“Fortunately, Jake, I'm not asking you.” He rolled his eyes while you tried to imagine what the other two boys responded to him from the headspace. "On your knees."

The cold of the floor on your skin felt good and you had to look up to meet your boyfriend's chocolate gaze. You never had a problem following his orders.

“The problem here…” His fingers ran through your hair slowly, making you close your eyes for a few seconds. “They are forgetting who you belong to. Who do they think they are to mark my girl like this, huh?” He cooed, the gaze of the other two fixed on him.

Your hands went to the hem of his pants, and when he didn't object, you understood well what he wanted. A small smile spread across your lips as you freed him from his tight black jeans, as well as his underwear.

He wasn't completely hard yet until your tongue ran along his entire length from base to tip.

“I want you to show them who was your first, my love.” Your fingers, as if you were an expert, wrapped around his cock, giving it a squeeze before beginning a slow, up-and-down pace. “Who you think about every fucking time you cum.”

You couldn't see it, but in detail you imagined the way Jake was rolling his eyes.

“It's a punishment for all 3 of you, you understand, don't you, honey?” His eyes boring into you as you kissed all around his cock wetly. “What makes you believe you should allow yourself to be treated that way?”

You parted your lips, taking the head inside before starting to suck. That always gave him chills, the way you didn't rush.

“No-oh.” His fingers tangled in your hair, those soft caresses had stopped. One push of his hand and you had half of his erection inside your mouth. He groaned.

Although you enjoyed taking your time and savoring every inch of Marc, he seemed to be in a hurry, you thought that perhaps the clumsy and aggressive way in which he was directing your head movements was part of the supposed punishment.

Were you supposed to not enjoy that?

“Push deeper.” Jake's voice caught Marc's attention, who a few seconds ago had been distracted by the messy and sloppy way you were sucking him off. He could have sworn there was a point where the only sound in the room was your saliva every time he slid over your tongue.

Marc looked at the mirror with a frown.

“Push harder.” He repeated, looking up. “Steven always fucks her mouth until she cries, if you want to prove your point push harder. Right, Steven?"

The other boy received an elbow against his ribs that forced him to look up. It seems he was enchanted by watching the way your left cheek bulged against the pressure of the head of Marc's lenght against it.

Still distracted, he nodded quickly.

It was that what resulted in you suddenly feeling him push your head harder. The brush against your throat brought tears to your eyes and you heard your boyfriend grunt. He was never so rude.

You didn't complain, though.

You tried your best to relax the muscles in your throat around him, but you were so caught off guard that a couple of gags only did the opposite, feeling you squeeze him every few seconds until he guided your head back.

Saliva ran from your lips to your chin, some drops ending up on your neck. You broke the string of saliva that joined his cock to your mouth by licking your lips.

You sniffed, looking up before giving Marc a smile.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” His fingers wrapped around himself so he could hit your tongue with his heavy member. You kept your tongue out, happy to receive it and hear the wet slapping. “Or does Steven do it better?”

Another movement of his hips was so abrupt that you felt your nose eventually collide with his lower abdomen, having to close your eyes as your tears ran down them. Still, you didn't give up, you didn't use your well-known "signal" to ask for some mercy.

Instead you moved your tongue slowly underneath, you only managed to graze his balls with the tip of it but it was enough to get a gasp from his throat. You held on for more seconds than you thought you were capable of before it was Marc himself who pushed you away.

It took you several seconds to even out your desperate breathing, you wiped your lips on the sleeve of Steven's sweater.

"Stand up." He ordered. His chest rising and falling rapidly. Jake's smirk on the other side of the mirror screamed at him that he knew. He knew Marc would finish stupidly quickly if he kept fucking your throat like that.

You swallowed hard before standing on shaky legs, the intense heat between your legs beginning to burn through your entire body, without receiving any kind of attention the only thing you could feel was the way your insides clenched around nothing.

"Turn around." Your cheeks took on a reddish color as you remembered the two pairs of eyes that were on you on the other side of the reflection. You slowly turned your back on him, your fingers gripping the wooden cabinet that held the huge mirror. “You better not close your eyes, I want you to look at them.”

Marc's hands took care of the job, pulling the hem of the sweater up to your waist and pulling your panties down to your ankles. You didn't need instructions to spread your legs and raise your ass for him.

He positioned himself behind your body, holding his cock for help. The tip separated your lips and you flinched when it brushed your swollen clit, it was just a couple of brushes as if he wanted to collect your juices on it in order to make penetration easier.

Although with you dripping and him full of your saliva, at this point it was just his pettiness and his desire to make you beg. You lifted your hips higher.

Marc looked down, his hand positioning itself exactly over Steven's finger marks and with a single movement you felt him slide inside you. Your legs trembled as you received him this deep and rough way, an action that you recognized as more typical of Jake.

“M-Marc, fuck, Marc.” You stammered as your body tried to get used to his size. No matter how many times you had done this, it was like your body insisted on giving him that death grip that drove him crazy.

"That's it." He caught her bottom lip between his teeth in a lousy attempt to silence her gasps. “Louder, baby, remind them who's fucking you.”

Somehow you felt like Jake and Steven's eyes burned into your skin. You couldn't look in the mirror, not while you were babbling Marc's name between moans, with that look that made it obvious how cockdrunk you were with just a couple of thrusts.

When Marc hit that sweet spot that made you vibrate from head to toe, your eyes closed automatically, your head falling downward.

"No." He growled, his hand rising to place it in your hair where he tangled his fingers. The sudden tug he gave to your locks made you snap your head up and let out a loud gasp, your eyes snapping open. "Look at them."

On the other side Jake was leaning slightly so he could be at your face level, analyzing every small expression of pleasure he saw in you. Your cheeks are flushed, your pupils are dilated, and your lips are red from biting them so much.

Steven was too lost in his own thoughts to object anything, the truth is that he was enjoying this new angle he had to see his cock splitting you and making you whimper more than he would like.

“Tell them how good I'm making you feel, honey.” He cooed, his fingers giving your hair a harder tug to force you to keep your head up. “Remind them who was the first to break that tight little pussy.”

You stifled a moan, making your bottom lip bleed with a bite.

“Tell them.” He growled, his fingers squeezing your hips so hard you feared your body was going to give up at any moment.

“I-It was you, Marc.” You whimpered in pleasure as his thrusts pushed your body forward, you were already on your tiptoes so as not to end up with your entire body against the furniture.

“Repeat it, I want them to listen to you.” His entire length remained still inside you, brushing against that spot that made you lose your mind. "Louder."

Your parted lips took in deep gasps of air and you had to swallow hard to recover your voice by moistening your throat a little.

“It’s you M-Marc.” He didn't give your hair a break, he was pulling with his fingers so hard that it was starting to hurt. “Fuck, Marc! A-Ah, fuck. It’s you, it’s you, only you.”

Bold of you to assume that Jake wouldn't have that in mind the next time he had his turn with you.

“Fuck her harder.” Marc looked at the mirror when the opposing voice caught his attention. “Come on, she can take it.” A mocking smile appeared on his lips, only irritating Marc even more.

Still, he obeyed.

You could hear the slapping between your bodies every time he thrusted into you. Your legs were threatening to stop supporting your body weight as they began to shake, your entire body feeling small spasms as you got closer and closer to the end.

“Marc?” Steven's soft voice caught the attention of the other two. His pupils were dilated and there was an adorable blush on hid cheeks. "Touch her."

Marc grunted when he realized that this wasn't the punishment he'd originally thought, but who was he to say no to Steven? The hand that was holding your hip slowly slid between your legs, separating your pussy lips with his fingers and then pressing his thumb against your sensitive clit.

He immediately felt your little hole tighten around him.

“Circles.”

“I know how to touch her, Steven.” He growled in your ear, only reminding you of the pair who were probably enjoying the show. The pleasure you were experiencing was too much to rescue the few grams of shame you might have somewhere on your body.

Your nails scratched the wood of the furniture in front of you.

“Cum all over me, honey.” He managed to whisper between moans. Two more thrusts of his body snatching the air from your lungs. “I bet they’ll like it.”

And that was enough for the wave of pleasure to make your body tingle from head to toe, your walls milking Marc until he followed you immediately after, filling you with his warm, thick liquid, which he pushed deeper inside you with a couple more strokes.

For a few seconds the only thing you heard along with the ringing in your ears was Marc's heavy breathing. After a moment his fingers gripped your hips, drawing your attention.

He gave you one more thrust and you squealed, sensitive, overstimulated.

“Marc.” You complained, looking up at the mirror in front of you once more as you tried to catch your breath.

On the other side, Jake's smile greeted you, almost playful.

“Let's see which name you can shout the loudest, princesa.”

Tag list. @ninebluehearts @shousha133 @unear7hly @onefinnedwonder-fm @automnepoet @lokisremainingsanity @uncle-eggy @just-a-nightdreamer @spktrgantenk @chinglewingledingledong @queerponcho @faretheeoscar @spideyman-peter

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lilac-5ky · 9 months

Note

TOJI AND VIRGIN READER!

The Favor (officeAU!Toji x virgin!Fem!Reader)

Plot: The first day you met Toji, he told you everything on his CV was a lie. Three years later, he's your beloved work husband, the one you go to when you decide it's time to lose your virginity.

Tags: Office!AU, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), agee gap (reader mid 20s, toji mid 30s), soft!dom toji, dirty talking, praising, pet names (sweetheart, darling, kid, wife, whore, slut, etc), aftercare, toji catches feelings after fucking you, daddy vibes without the word, friends to lovers dynamic, size kink, lube handjob, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Combined your idea with my intense need to write an office!au. Hopefully this turned out to your liking and you forgive me for writing this much filth LMAO

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

For promotion, for demotion, for raises and for cuts, in overtime and in bureaucracy, until layoff do us part.

In the insufferable reality of Japanese corporate life, a work spouse exists to shoulder the burden of overdue deadlines and never-ending stacks of paperwork. A husband who, in spite of not being bound to you through marriage, has vowed to stick by your side until either one of you breaks free from the shackles of human resources; your work husband.

You met each other on your first day at the company, both of you passing interviews for the same lowly position of staffing coordinator.

Your first impression of candidate number 9 was that his suit wasn’t really his but was likely borrowed from someone whose bicep wasn’t the size of their thigh and calf combined. Your second impression was whispered to your ear as the dark haired man rose from his chair and paraded down the interview room, nonchalantly letting slip that his bachelor’s degree along with every bit of qualification on his CV had been faked.

Whether that was a declaration of war or a testament to his unparalleled confidence, you wouldn’t know until a week later when you were assigned to the same miserable office corner, sharing a desk, a title, and a secret whose value skyrocketed once you became acquainted with your work place’s imposing policies.

One word would get both him and his knowing smile fired, but the moment you shook hands with Fushiguro Toji and promised to get along, you signed yourself up for a long-lasting partnership.

Over the three years you worked together, each grew out of their initial post. Your all-nighters paid off and you got promoted to an HR assistant, meaning you didn’t have to memorize everyone’s coffee order any longer, while Toji flourished as the department’s eye candy.

He’d ceased pretending that his broad shoulders could be boxed in second-hand suit jackets, and instead opted for rolled-up button-ups with the occasional monochromatic tie—a fit that put his sculpted physique into full view and threw the entire female populace out of balance.

He was an objectively good-looking man who bordered on great. The type to be conscious of their effect on others, cutting corners with suggestive glances and smiling his way out of otherwise unforgivable report oversights. Every woman in the office was openly in love with him. Even your supervisor referred to him as the team’s ace and discreetly unbuttoned her cleavage in his presence.

You realized then, they’d sooner let go of you and your hard-earned master’s, than part with the department’s mascot.

Despite the differences in skill and appearance, your sense of kinship survived the passage of time. Perhaps you’d subconsciously fallen victim to his charms, but whenever you saw his thin brows furrow and his right foot threaten the unresponsive copy machine with a killing blow, you couldn’t look away. This is a favor; you’d remind him at every formal email and resume assessment you helped put together.

And favors are repaid.

While Toji couldn’t assist with payroll processing, he always had the scoop on who cheated on their spouse with whom and whose bra was filled with padding—which you didn’t find all that interesting, but turned into a fun game of guess the cheater during dull 9 a.m. meetings.

On mornings when the alarm was hurled at your bedroom wall, he made excuses for your absence, and on work dinners, he saved you a seat away from all the grabby drunks.

Toji was far from a good person. His mere presence in a company you’d broken your back to get into was a mockery of your efforts. He led others on and got into muffled shutouts over his phone behind the water fountain, where he thought no one was listening in.

That’s how you found out about his eight-year-old kid and the custody battle with his allegedly “psychotic” ex-wife. He didn’t know you knew because you never told him. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and it wasn’t your job to sort his out. As far as your work marriage was concerned, he was a good husband who diligently fulfilled his marital duties—all except one, which you feared the pretext of a favor wouldn’t begin to cover.

“Here’s your poison,” you slid the scalding coffee cup in his direction, mindful of the papers on his desk. “Black Americano with four shots of espresso and no sugar to compliment your wretched dark soul.”

Toji raised an open palm in your face, motioning for you to wait until he was done punching words on the keyboard and pressed save file. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, threaded with faded scars that followed the expanse of veins down his wrists, dipping deep below the white cotton of his shirt. Another unsolved mystery you hadn’t gotten to the bottom of.

He brought the cup to his equally scarred lips, defying the steam spirals with a long-drawn sip. “Unnecessary intro, but thanks.” He gave a lazy smile. “Aren’t ya a sweetheart?”

You dropped your beverage on your side of the desk and swiveled your chair nearer. “Think you could do said sweetheart a favor?

“A favor, huh?” His breath was laced with caffeine. “Depends. If you’re asking for a buck, ‘fraid I’m all dried up till the end of the month.”

So he isn’t planning on paying for his order.

“I make more than you.”

“Doesn’t mean ya can’t find yourself in a pickle.”

You shook your head, stealing a sip of liquid courage from your mocha. How did people ask those things again?

Your contemplation lasted long enough for him to turn his head back to work, filling his home screen with enough tabs to distract you from his unfinished round of solitaire.

“What are you doing after work?” Your voice cracked into shards of uncertainty.

“Nice try.”He sneered. “You dug your own grave taking on the grievance procedures from the union. Climb out on your own.”

“Not everyone offloads their work load on others, Toji.” You rolled your eyes, scooting even closer to make sure only he’d be the recipient of your next words.

He sensed something was off because he wasn’t pretending to input random lines into the search bar anymore, and while he studied you, you studied him back. You had your doubts about this, and you weren’t sure he was your type either. You liked your men responsible and mature—like Nanami from sales, who would’ve been your first choice if your legs didn’t turn into jelly the minute you saw him.

Toji was the safe option. You talked to him. You joked with him. You were used to him, and more importantly, you trusted him. All the lack of qualifications in his job, he made up for with his experience in that other field you were a stranger to.

“Hey, kid.” His voice mellowed down with a beat of concern, a heavy hand landing on your shoulder. “If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, I—”

“Please have sex with me.”

“Make yourself at home.” He nudged your back into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following even after he’d pulled away.

Moving forward felt hard—as if you’d forgotten how to. You weren’t sure whether to wipe your shoes on the mat or stash them in the corner. You didn’t know which foot to put forth and what set of slippers to pick. Every decision suddenly mattered a lot more than it should.

You’d never been to Toji’s house before, and up until a few hours ago, you couldn’t fathom standing at his doorstep either. You weren’t that close so as to meet outside work hours, but you were about to get a lot more up close and personal.

The way he accepted your request with a mere, almost offensive, okay still boggled your brain. You’d considered every question he could possibly ask, painstakingly compiling your list of answers like a witness called to the stand, only for him to not speak a word of it—not even when it was just you and him and the solitude that came from enjoying lunch a hundred stories above Tokyo’s bustling streets.

He seemed to have forgotten all about your plans, up until he pulled over at the bus stop where you were waiting and stuffed you in the front seat of his car.

“You coming?”

Kicking your heels off your feet, you skipped straight through the hallway, your head turning left and right as if you were at an art gallery. You didn’t know what to expect, but a high-end apartment in the heart of Minato wasn’t it. Neither your income nor his justified an inox steel kitchen with mahogany wood flooring—let alone a direct view of the illuminated Tokyo Tower.

You were so bedazzled by the city skyline that you nearly missed the hastily buried socks peeking beneath the kotatsu, along with the cobwebs his untouched bookshelf flaunted. Much like his suit, his apartment was handed to him by someone whose love for both their books and spouse had run out.

“Whaddya think?”

Toji stalked behind you, his reflection in the glass becoming more defined with every step he took. He was holding something in each hand—two glasses whose orange liquid sparkled in place of the stars.

You turned around slowly, accepting your share with a small smile on your face.

“Your ex-wife has good taste.”

He blinked, taken aback for a split second. He wondered what gave it out—the pink slippers or the flipped-down picture frames you’d yet to notice—and somewhere down the line, he got the wrong idea, beaming with an unwarranted “Thanks.”

“I meant the house, not you.” Although you couldn’t blame him for his inflated ego when every female practically dropped their panties at his feet. Especially not when you were there to do the same.

Your teeth clicked sharply against the glass as you tilted your head and sipped on what tasted too sweet to be whiskey. Apple Juice?

“That’s not alcohol.” You stated.

“Ever thought of becoming a detective?” Toji padded toward the leather couch, spreading his thighs across the two middle cushions.

“Ever thought of becoming a comedian?” You retorted, squeezing in to his left. The furniture would’ve been big enough to fit you both, had he been considerate. “So what’s the joke? Too young to be drinking, or hard liquor ain’t for pretty girls like me?”

“Nah.” His head dropped on his shoulder, both propped against the headrest. “Need you sober for what’s about to happen.”

You mirrored his stance, your knees touching as you folded them on the smooth leather. “And what’s about to happen?”

“I think we both know, or else ya wouldn’t have followed me here.” He wet his bottom lip, pretty green eyes clouding dark.

A certain dryness gnawed at your throat, the pink color of his tongue appealing to you more than it should. You weren’t interested in Toji, but the strands of black that fell over his forehead painted a cuter image than you were used to seeing at the office. You wondered what he’d look like with his hair pushed back, all slick from beads of sweat rolling down his temples. And when you realized you couldn’t pin any of those thoughts on the alcohol, you took another sip, hurriedly averting your gaze.

“How many have? Women from work, I mean.”

You were surprised to hear him state “None,” and even more surprised that he claimed not to mix business with pleasure. You could think of at least three coworkers you suspected he fooled around with. At least so they bragged in the ladies’ room.

“So why bring me home?”

“‘Cause you asked.” Toji said gruffly.

“You fuck every woman who asks you to?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you reminded yourself to take his words with a grain of salt. He wasn’t interested in you any more than you were in him. This was simply platonic—almost transactional. He’d do what you asked, and then you’d pay him back with another, mundane favor like sorting mail in his stead.

You finished your drink, your eyes licking up the remaining drops at the bottom of the glass. “This line works?”

Toji shrugged. It probably did. He probably didn’t even have to open his mouth for it to work. While the moment you opened yours—

“Want more?” He motioned to your glass. You nodded, extending your arm, only for his expression to turn sour. “I’m not your fucking maid. Bottle’s on the counter.”

You sighed, getting up so he wouldn’t see your eyes roll at his comment as he shoved his glass in your face. Who’s the maid now?

Aimlessly, you strolled into the kitchen, taking longer than necessary to fill both your glasses. You didn’t mean to start snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself from seeking a sign of his presence in his picture-perfect apartment. Houses typically reveal something about their residents, and while the display of crystal glasses spoke plenty of his ex-wife, there was no evidence of Toji’s personality.

You weren’t interested in him—just curious. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you picked up a frame stowed away behind an empty cookie jar.

Four smiles greeted you, the brightest belonging to a young girl with elongated bangs, holding a boy who strove to copy his sister’s expression. Their parents stood behind them, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tucked in a ponytail blissfully leaning against the shoulder of a Toji that seemed less happy the longer you processed his strained features.

“She left.” The proximity of his voice startled you. The frame danced between your fingers until he snatched it, his jutted-out chin betraying his annoyance. “Took the kids, left the house and me behind. Ain’t that what ya wanted to hear?”

You shook your head, about to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness on his parquet. However, the hostility that rose faded as soon as he threw the picture in the first open drawer and returned to the living room, leaving you to fetch your drinks. Then you remembered the phone calls. They weren’t on good terms.

“Having kids isn’t bad. Nor being divorced.” You handed him the glass, assuming your previous position on the couch. “Doesn’t ruin your cool guy image whatsoever.”

“Who said I care about that?” Toji snorted.

“Then you wouldn’t care if anything slipped in front of your fan club?”

“Mind your own fucking business.” He hissed. You chuckled. Sharing a couch wasn’t that much different from sharing a desk, and sharing two secrets was the same as sharing one.

“What are your kids’ names?”

“Kid,” he corrected. “Megumi.”

By the name, you assumed it was the girl. You were wrong. You tried to ask something about his son’s mother, but somehow you couldn’t find one right thing to say, since the woman in the photo wasn’t the boy’s biological mom either. You were lost. The more cryptic answers he gave, the more unanswered questions you ended up with.

Your plan took a backseat while Toji trod the sensitive topic of his divorce to that “bitch,” who’d taken his kid from him out of spite. The custody battle was tipped in her favor, courtesy of a legal system that’d rather see a child separated from its biological parent in the face of cold cash.

Megumi only visited every second weekend of the month, which explained his father’s eagerness to leave early on certain Fridays and come late on the following Mondays. He didn’t need to say this, but you understood his reasons for cheating his way into the company. A proper job looked good in court, and whatever earned him those scars was far from proper.

Both your hands emptied as you finished your second round of drinks. Your head would be buzzing if there was alcohol involved, but you didn’t miss it. Toji was hard to engage, and talking to him felt like running into one brick wall after another. However, working out of those dead-ends was preferable to clinking glasses with some guy who wouldn’t quit boasting about his Ivy League diploma or his burning passion for vocaloid singers—both cases reflecting the sad reality of blind dating in your twenties.

“So.” Toji drawled, a burly arm stretching behind your head. “Why you want me to fuck you? Can’t find good dick in the market?”

Your mind went blank in an instant, every excuse and curated version of the story vanishing when you needed them the most.

“I—um,” you cleared your throat, while your eyes scanned over his body.

There was a lot to take in: the fine lines of his pecs, highlighted under the taut white fabric; the black tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar; the hem of his shirt that dangled out of his fitted pants, exposing the tiniest window to the happy trail on his lower abdomen; his slim waist and his thick thighs; the curve of his bum; and the light touch of his fingers closing around your shoulder. You traced the same route of landmarks, finding yourself returning to his achingly handsome face and the playful curiosity in his eyes that had you shifting in your place.

All the reasons for someone to want to be fucked by this fine specimen of a man were right there, and you picked the most inclusive one. “Because you’re hot.”

The ends of his scar drew apart as Toji smiled a wolfish smile. He inched closer, your back hitting the armrest when his right hand caged your body between his arms and the couch.

“Bullshit.” A tickle from where his nose brushed against yours, and a thud from where your heart dropped inside your chest. “You think I wouldn’t know if ya had the hots for me, kid?”

“N-not everyone throws themselves at others.” You tried to reason.

“Maybe. But attraction comes with signs.” The side of his hand grazed the corner of your eyelid. “Batting your pretty lashes,” he trailed off, rough knuckles softly tracing the apple of your cheek. “Blushing your cheeks red.” The pad of his thumb swiped down your cupid’s bow. “Biting your lip raw.” He continued with his eyes, glancing at the skirt that lay high above your knees suggestively. “Pressing those plushy thighs together.”

“You do none ‘f those things.” Toji accused. “So why the sudden itch? Indulge me, and I’ll pound that pussy till ya scream.”

The promise of his words forced a gulp down your throat as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together. You started to reconsider. You didn’t want to fuck him just because any man would do. You wanted to fuck him because it was him and because every patch of skin he made contact with begged to be touched again.

“I’m a virgin.” You admitted, voice low, and stare even lower—utterly defeated as he flinched away in surprise.

You wondered what he’d say. A virgin at your age? was the most common response, followed by Is something wrong with you? and typically concluded with You sure you’re not a lesbian?

Everyone preaches how precious innocence is, but no one wants the pressure of taking it. What men really want is a woman who is both a saint and a slut—a woman who can suck their dick ten inches deeper than they can provide while simultaneously shying away from every insinuation of sex.

The problem is with the poor souls who belong in either category without adhering to the other, because squeezing your legs shut is just as faulty as spreading them open for the public.

Seeing as Toji remained silent, you realized you wouldn’t get an answer, and maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want to put a strain on your work relationship. It’d take a while to look him in the eye again, but in a month or two, you’d laugh about the incident over a cup of soggy store-bought noodles like nothing happened.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You mumbled as you picked up your last vestige of dignity and stood on your feet, only to be anchored by a set of fingers that tightly gripped your wrist.

“Sit.” His unfaltering gaze confirmed the sincerity of his command.

You thought about breaking free and dashing to the door. You thought about how much it’d actually hurt to let him ridicule you, and the tears started to build up on their own. And when you didn’t do as you were told, he towered over you with a palm that was eager to cup your cheek, tilting your face in position for him to print a rough kiss on your parted lips.

“I said fucking sit.” Toji repeated, while you contemplated how someone who spews words so harshly could have such soft lips.

Sheepishly, you fell back onto the couch, expecting him to follow suit and not kneel on the floor like he did. “What’s the story?” He asked, large hands taking hold of your knees and slowly rubbing them apart.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” You prayed that he couldn’t feel your heartbeat bounce across your body as if it were an empty vessel.

“With you, there always is.” He licked his lips as his eyes settled between your thighs, darkening with lust the second they were met with the damp patch in the middle of your pink lace knickers. “Wanna hear all about it while I feast on your little hole.”

“You’re not gonna fuck—”

“First things first, sweetheart. Gotta make sure y’are all prepped before I stuff you with my cock.” Toji smiled, pushing your skirt until it rolled over your stomach. “If ya gonna scream my ears off, better be from pleasure, mm?”

You nodded, watching as his slender fingers slid your underwear off and temporarily—you hoped—shoved it in his back pocket. You saw him marvel at the sight of your exposed cunt and wished you could peer into his brain to hear him curse himself for not coming up with this idea first.

You looked so pretty down there, your puffy clit safely tucked behind its hood while your lips shimmered with your wetness—the scent so intoxicating his pants tightened into a size too small.

He was already considering his next favor. Now that the door was open, he’d make sure it never closed again. Bending you over the copy machine was the front-runner. Getting a print of your tits squeezed against the scanner while he blows your back, his palm muffling out the pathetic sounds you let slip—he’d be lying if that wasn’t what he fantasized about whenever you refilled the ink cartridges for him.

“Ya ever touch yourself here?”

His thumb swiped over your clit, drawing an incomplete circle that ended with light flicks around the sensitive nub. Left and right. Up and down. Searching for the combination that’d have your body answer in place of your mouth, and when your hips bucked forward, he knew exactly where to press.

“Y-yes!” You whined, more as a reaction than an answer to his question.

“And ya ever push a finger in?” He continued, teasingly dragging his thumb between your lips.

“Just one. Rest hurt.”

“Mhm, bet they do.” He hummed as he tasted you on his finger, exaggerating the suck with a soft pop. “Ever had a guy kiss ya there before?”

Toji gave his own answer as he buried his head in your pussy, the sticky mix of his saliva and your juices trickling down your entrance while he made out with your clit. You struggled to keep your thighs apart, the raspy grunts at the back of his throat vibrating against your mound in joint symphony with your breathy moans. His tongue felt so good soaking on your slick that you felt yourself melting into a pool of pleasure.

“Get talkin’ or I’ll stop.” He warned, slowing down with broad, near-maddening, strokes that occasionally dipped between your folds.

“I wanted to w-wait,” you panted. “Wanted to fall in love first, but then I waited too long, and—ngh, fuck, right there!” Toji pinched your folds apart, his stare lecherous as he sucked the puffy pearl into his warm mouth.

Your body jerked in response, the leather squeaking hard beneath your bared ass. You weren’t sure at what point interest surpassed curiosity, but the signs were all there, manifesting as heat in your cheeks and blood that threatened to drop from your chewed-up lip.

His jade eyes narrowed into a shrewd reminder. Putting your thoughts in order was impossible, but if you stopped, so would he.

“Everyone ‘round me started d-doing it, and I was the only one l-left.” You tried to regulate your breathing through your nose, your throat turning hoarse from all the strain. “Went on a bunch of blind dates, but the guys were t-turned off, and—how the fuck are you so good at this?”

Toji chuckled, the pink tip of his tongue parting your lips in a languid motion that made you shudder. “Let’s just say my marriage didn’t fall apart ‘cause of this.”

He mounted your knees atop his shoulders and neared your entrance, with his middle and ring fingers ghosting over the softness of your pulsing slit. “Gonna use my fingers now. Be a good girl and cum on them, will ya?”

The first digit pushed forward, much thicker than any of your fingers. You felt so full already—nails digging into the cushions, while he thrust in and out of your walls, curling the lone pad to find a spot so sweet it elicited a moan of equal sweetness.

“Ya did well to come to me.” He continued, his raspy voice effortlessly sexy. “Kids these days don’t know shit ‘bout pleasing a woman.”

The veins on his wrist flexed along with his scars as his ring finger joined in the action to defy your previous claim. There was no pain. Only immense waves of pleasure leaking through your squinted eyes as hot tears beaded your eyelashes.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’.” He praised, repeatedly hitting the swollen bundle of nerves inside your throbbing cunt, bringing you closer to the edge with each thorough pump.

“Maybe I was wrong, hm? Maybe that’s what ya wanted all along. I know I did. Fucking wanted my hands on this pussy since I first saw ya fidget with your little skirt at that interview.”

“Toji—”

He dived between your legs again, his hand maintaining the same erratic pace even while his tongue hungrily lapped at your clit. Your head lolled back, the tension in your guts rapidly building up until you came undone, your pussy clenching and creaming around his calloused fingers.

You’d never finished so hard on your own, the tremors of your orgasm ringing in your ears and jogging your memory.

Your first impression on that day was sadness, right? Sadness over the wedding band the handsome stranger hid in his pocket right before entering the building, thinking no one else caught sight of it, and embarrassment about how your impure thoughts for a married man followed you into the shower every night after work.

“Atta girl.” A present-day and very-much divorced Toji licked his lips into a smile. “Their fucking loss.”

His knee pressed into the gap between your thighs as he stood on his feet and prompted you to open your lips. You took his fingers in your mouth, licking your cum off while your chest heaved with one labored breath after the other.

“See how good ya taste?” Toji cooed, rhythmically fucking his fingers on your tongue before removing them. “Sweeter than honey.”

“Thought you didn’t like sweet things.” His coffee order came in mind.

“How ‘bout we make an exception?”

You weren’t sure what got into you when you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him forward, kissing him with such vigor you’d never experienced. You always thought of losing your virginity as checking an item off your bucket list. You didn’t imagine you could ever lust after someone the way you currently lusted after Toji, your desire escalating into an all-consuming need.

His tongue moved as skillfully in your mouth as it did when it explored your pussy, dancing with your own rather than overpowering it. You liked kissing him. You liked kissing him so much that you wanted to incorporate it into your morning hellos and your evening goodbyes, dragging yourselves into an endless loop of returned favors.

Without breaking the kiss, Toji hoisted you up from the couch and held you in his arms, his palms finding the perfect excuse to grab onto your ass while he carried you across rooms you didn’t care enough to see. A door creaked behind your back, and soon you were tossed onto a large body of endless softness—a bed, you realized as Toji hastily shoved a couple of pillows behind your head.

“Ever heard of that stupid nickname that goes ‘round work?” He whispered in your ear while his fingers worked on undoing your blouse. “How they call ya my work wife?” His palms slid around your ribs and back to unhook your bra. “Guess this makes it our wedding night, heh.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a chuckle. “Don’t you feel any shame calling me your wife when you’re about to fuck me on your ex-wife’s bed?”

“My bed now, and what I say fucking goes.” He stripped your body from every garment, salaciously gawking at your nude figure on his (her) satin sheets.

You didn’t feel too bad about showing your body, but his stare was almost intrusive—especially with how he hadn’t lost a single article of clothing himself.

“Such a gorgeous body, wife.” He dragged out the final syllables, hoping to elicit a reaction separate from the soft pants you let out as he caressed your soft curves—both much softer than the bedding you were splayed across, liquid velvet in his hands. “Such a good little wife, saving herself for her husband to deflower.”

“Why thank you, husband.” You chortled, cupping his face in a deep kiss.

You knew Toji was the right choice. Not because touching him felt like winning the lottery or because he knew exactly what he was doing, but because he could’ve made this situation a lot more awkward and didn’t. He made your first time feel special, granting your wish of doing it with someone you loved, even if it was all an illusion that’d fade come tomorrow morning.

You almost thanked him as he began to unbutton his shirt, the display of corded muscles and pale scars breaking the dam between your legs. Whatever your type might’ve once been, was no more. It was all Toji, with his clenched fists lifting the weight of his brawny, veiny arms, his shoulders so wide you could ride on them, and the self-complacent smirk your stupefied expression brought to his lips.

“This ain’t an exhibit, sweetheart.” He mocked. “You can touch all ya want.”

He didn’t need to say it twice for your palms to roam his body, starting from his neck and slowly gliding down his torso, feeling out the tension in his steeled abdomen. His skin was smooth, except for the few unruly hairs leading down to the bulge in his crotch, whose sight alone made you lick your lips and buck your hips into his. You wanted to see the rest of him.

“You are the hottest divorcee I know.” You smiled earnestly.

“Ya know lots of ‘em?” Toji cocked his head while you shook yours with a giggle. “Don’t be so flattering.”

“I do have a great-aunt…”

“Oh, please.” He groaned, allowing you to laugh it out. He didn’t like how his bottom lip twitched as he struggled to contain a chuckle of his own. He’d long sworn off girls that made his heart skip a beat.

“Think y’are ready?” You nodded. Repeatedly.

Digging his knees into the bed, he stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fishing for a bottle in one of the drawers. Lube, you realized as he settled it beside you to remove his pants, flinging them along with his boxers to the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, an expression that didn’t look too good considering fear was about the last emotion you should be experiencing.

He was packing in every sense of the word. Long, thick, and definitely heavy as it hung above his hefty balls, the reddened tip pointing at your entrance. It wasn’t like you’d never seen a cock before. Porn existed, and so did perverts in trench coats, but comparing either one to him was both disrespectful and a huge understatement.

“Don’t go cold on me now, mm? It will fit.” He read your mind, taking your hand in his and slotting the bottle in your fist. “Prepped you so good for it. You’ll see; you’ll like this more than my fingers.”

“Promise.” He added, squeezing your hand reassuringly. You chose to trust him, and when he brought your other hand to his shaft, you knew what he was asking you to do.

The bottle spurted a thick glob of liquid that your palm smeared all over his cock head. Toji watched with bated breath as you stroked his length, each thorough pump of your delicate hands warming him up.

He deserved a pat on the back for not cumming right then and there—the distinction between the clear lubricant and his creamy precum becoming more prominent while he throbbed and twitched in your tight grasp. He thought about how much tighter your walls would be, milking every drop he had to offer while you writhed beneath him, with little ah-ah-ah’s and Toji please’s complimenting the squelching of your tight virgin cunt.

“That’s enough.”

He pulled your hand away and cracked the bottle open once more, rubbing a small quantity between his fingers and then scissoring them in your walls. You clung onto him, your hips chasing after his touch. Cute.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” Toji leaned close enough so that your field of view was consumed by his face. “Keep your eyes on me, breath in ‘n’ out, and it won’t hurt one bit. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Your legs were parted as he ran his cock between your folds and pressed down firmly, his hand moving to your hip once he guided the first inches inside.

Toji was the first to react as he sank in deeper, about two-thirds in when he felt your pussy snare around him like a vice, the warmth of your walls making him curse under his breath. His last fuck was less than a weekend ago, and yet he felt like one of those loser kids he scorned earlier. He’d forgotten just how good being inside a virgin was—a one-and-done deal that would cease to amaze him after he fucked you into his shape.

“All good?” He remembered to ask, taking your strained yes at face value.

Small creases formed over your forehead, contorting your expression into a pained wince the further he sheathed himself into your wet cavern—and when his words weren’t enough, his lips took over. He kissed your worries away and cradled your breasts in his palms, doing everything in his power to keep the pain to a minimum as his hips met with your pelvis, bone against bone and skin against skin, until he finally bottomed out.

A whimper cut your kiss short, and for a second he feared tears would stream from your glassy eyes, not considering the possibility of your shaky legs wrapping around his back and your swollen, pretty lips calling out his name with a stuttered moan.

“F-fuck me, Toji. Please—fuck, I need you so badly.” You begged, dropping the pretense of composure.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your little virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes, Toji, yes!”

“Yes, what, doll?” He teased. “Say it.”

“Please be my first, Toji.”

His grin turned feral in a heartbeat, your words stirring something in him that he could not explain.

He was prepared to spend the entire night fucking you at a snail’s pace, buttering you up with praises, and pampering you as if you were a golden egg goose, but now he didn’t have to. He could fuck you exactly how he pleased—fold your knees onto your stomach and hold down onto your thighs, pussy all exposed to where he could watch his cock pound into your hole and hear each and every strike of his balls against the fat of your ass—and you would take it.

But when he looked down and saw the ring of red that’d formed around his shaft, he had a change of heart. Maybe another time.

Planting his fingers on your hips, he withdrew slightly, purposely aligning his tip with the roof of your cunt. He didn’t have to go hard to make you happy. All he had to do was hit that one spot, and you’d be coming back for more. Having a steady thing wouldn’t hurt either. It was convenient—certainly better than burning gas driving across town just to pick up some random slut he’d tire of five minutes into her over-the-top screams. At least you lived close by.

With lavish strokes, he rolled his hips against your own, dipping forward to grind his pubic bone against your mound. It didn’t take long for the stimulation to get overwhelming, your hair falling from your strict work up-do all over your sweaty forehead while you thrashed around the sheets, huffs escalating into whiny moans.

“Sh-shit, gonna cum, Toji.” You managed, though there was no real need to tell him.

Your body responded perfectly to his, wetness gushing over his cock while your walls tightened impossibly around him. He fucked you through your high, wrapping his arms below your shoulders and muting your blissful sobs to chase after his own release. Your breasts were squeezed against his pecs, pebbled nipples making him regret not giving them the proper attention.

This wouldn’t be the last time. Your body was like a playground to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t done playing.

“My fucking work wife.” Toji grunted possessively in your ear, nipping at the lobe. Only his lower half moved, a constant snap of hips bouncing through the room as the second lewdest sound after the ones you traded. “Wanna send your ass crawling to work on all fours. That’ll show them, mm? Show them who fucked you so good. What a—fuck, what a good slut y’are f’me. From a virgin to my whore—hah, make ‘em all so jealous.

“Shhhhit, ya like that?” He interpreted your clenching as he willed. “Wanna start a rumor? Fuck on every desk, in every stall, and have everyone know?”

“Yes, Toji! Yesyesyes, want everyone to know you f-fucked me.”

You went back and forth between panting out his name and chanting yes, as those were the only two words you could mindlessly repeat. He wasn’t joking about making you scream. You were on the verge of passing out, so engrossed in ecstasy that you’d lost track of how many times you’d climaxed.

“‘s too much, T-Toji!” You begged, burying your head in the curve of his neck and breathing in his musk. You were both so sweaty, glued together like two puzzle pieces.

“One more, sweetheart. ‘m so close—wanna feel ya cum with me.”

He toyed with your clit until he started to fall out of pace, drawing his cock out before it was caught in the spasms of your pussy. A hefty load burst in his fist as he jerked himself off to your fucked-out form, hot drops of cum spraying your stomach like creamy droplets of rain.

Neither of you realized how soaked the sheets were until Toji left the bed, his eyes not faking their surprise. You didn’t seem to be in that much pain, and yet the amount of blood and wetness was at least equal to carnage.

Would it be a dick move to task you with his laundry?

He spared you a glance, not bothering to hide his smugness. Your legs were still trembling, your breasts puffing up in your struggle to breathe through your agape lips. He was tempted to tell you off—something cheesy like, “Want somethin’ in your mouth that badly?”

“Hey, kid. You are not dead—are you?” He asked jokingly, laughing through his nose as you found the strength to flip him off. Now that the effects of your orgasm were wearing off, so was your obedience.

“How’d ya like your first time?” A thumbs-up this time. “A’right. C’mere.”

The longer he let the stain settle, the more of a bitch it’d be to remove it. That’s what Toji told himself as he picked you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom, returning to the bedroom only to roll the sheets into a ball he’d later discard in the washing machine. He wasn’t avoiding looking at your cute face, and he definitely didn’t think of your weakened infant-like state as cute when he scrubbed your thighs clean with a wet towel either.

A weird image sparked in his memory, one from the many nights you’d spent working side by side at a dimly lit office. He remembered you ordering him takeout and looming over his head like a vulture while he went neck-to-neck with the vicious spreadsheet program. You insisted on tutoring him, claiming your dressy outfit was a result of canceled plans—even though you kept stealing glances at the clock—and staying with him until the wee hours when you didn’t have to.

You really were a sweetheart, an angel, and all the other terms of endearment he used on you knowing they made your lips stretch and your eyes sparkle. But that wasn’t for you to know.

“Toji?” Your voice jolted him out of his reverie—frail, but not as frail as the hands that wrapped around his own to snatch the towel.

What could he say to make you leave without any harsh feelings coming back to bite him in the ass?

He pondered his options while you bent forward from where he’d seated you on the counter by the sink. You held his limp dick in your palm, gently wiping the dried blood and cum that clung to his girth.

It was sickening how quickly he stiffened, all ready to ram it in your pussy and fuck you with the mirrored view of your ass in the backdrop, but what truly made his guts churn was the little cheeky smile you beamed with. He stood by his words. Virgins were the biggest sluts.

The towel dropped to the floor as you pointed his cock at your entrance, and that was all the convincing he needed.

“Fine.” Toji sighed, pinning your wrists on the cold quartz counter top. “You can stay the night, but mention work and I’m kicking ya out.”

This is definitely not how you say it.

You made it to the office the next day after a brief raid on your apartment. Going to work in your previous day’s clothes screamed, “Look at me! I got laid!” And as fun as creating all those fantasies with Toji was, you could do without earning “Hated Employee of the Month.” Everyone hated you for being friends with him as is.

He waited until you’d changed into a presentable outfit and dropped you off a block further away for precaution. You shared your final kiss in the car, wasting a whole fifteen minutes sucking each other’s faces off like teenagers at a drive-in. Dating a colleague was against the rules, and you didn’t want to date Toji either. Not that he’d asked. Not that you expected him to ask.

Losing your virginity was a lot more complicated than you thought.

He counted on you to bring coffee, and you would have if an intense craving for spicy tuna onigiri didn’t win you over. The convenience store was right around the corner, and its coffee was honestly not that bad if you squinted your eyes and fooled your senses a bit.

You grabbed two onigiri from the stand—in case Toji felt like stealing yours—along with an apple juicebox, both as a means of thanking and poking fun at him. You paid for the items and walked to the office, nauseated by the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach. You should’ve really eaten something instead of having your final hookup at the breakfast table.

A few people greeted you in and out of the elevator to the forty-seventh floor, some commenting on your looking less gloomy than usual, but that was about it. The world spun the same way it did even before you had sex. No big change or mind-blowing epiphany; just a euphoric feeling of accomplishment that dissipated the moment you saw the stack of documents waiting on your desk.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Toji magically sprouted from behind, loaded binders balanced on his arms—the same arms that’d lavished you with affection all night long. “They had a fall out at one of the subsidiaries, and now we gotta clean up their shit.”

And back to reality we go.

“Where’s my coffee?” He searched for a cup on his desk.

You pushed your desperation aside and held the juice to his face with a smile that turned awkward the longer he took to accept it.

“It’s um, you know.” You stepped closer, placing the box atop his mountain of files. “Thank you.”

“Also, got you this, so don’t even think of taking mine.” You balanced the onigiri beside the juice and plopped down on your chair, an antsy, blushing mess that refused to meet his stare until he looped an arm around your headrest and attached his mouth to your ear.

“Care to do me a favor?”

#Toji x reader #toji smut #fushiguro toji #toji x y/n #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fanfiction #jjk fanfiction #toji <3 #toji headcanons #toji fic #toji x you #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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nicxl333 · 9 months

Text

JADE ABACUS— JING YUAN X READER

what happens when you use the jade abacus for the wrong purpose? (contains spoilers from the 1.3 update)

tags: 18+ content, nsfw, reader is not the trailblazer, masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (reader receiving), reader is described to have a vagina (afab), fluff, praise kink, breeding, unprotected sex

first hsr oneshot hope it’s good! (also it’s late so i haven’t proof read this very well)

word count: 2.3k

“the same is true of this jade abacus- it is a record of the luofu cloud knights’ promise to the crew of the astral express. it is also a beacon- grip it tightly, and it will send a message to the jade abacus here in my hand. no matter how astronomically distant you are, the luofu cloud knights will always come to the aid of the crew, whatever your need may be.”

after saying your goodbyes to everyone on the xianzhou, you, welt, dan heng, march 7th and stelle/caelus made your way back onto the astral express, ready to warp to penacony the next day. after conversing with himeko and bickering with pom pom you said your goodnights and turned in for the evening.

truth be told you were slightly disheartened that you’d be leaving the xianzhou, having made so many new friends.

some, more friendly than others.

while there were many very good looking individuals residing on the luofu, one particular individual caught your eye; the high and mighty general himself.

it was something about him that drew you to him, like a moth to a single flame. maybe his smug confidence, his ability to control a crowd, or his handsome looks with his piercing eyes that could make your cunt gush within seconds. who knows, it was probably all those factors combined. either way, the attraction was there and steadily growing.

as you undressed to don yourself in your nightwear, you emptied your pockets to place your clothing in the laundry. your contents contained some trinkets here and there, and the jade abacus, which you were entrusted to hold for some unknown reason. you placed the jade abacus on your bed, meaning to look at it in greater detail once you were fully clothed.

once finished you lay in your bed, picking up your phone from the side table to scroll through any missed messages. puzzling enough, the most recent message at the top was from none other than general jing yuan.

wondering what he could possibly need (considering he rarely texted) you opened the message.

“good evening y/n, i hope this message finds you well. i realised i didn’t have the chance to bid you in particular a proper farewell, my deepest apologies. in good reparational faith i would like to make it up to you with a meal the next time you’re on the ship, on me.”

fuck knows how, but knowing that he specifically had you on his mind made you honoured, and strangely enough, horny. your mind flooded with thoughts that were downright filthy of what he could do to you should you have the chance to be alone.

he would probably take his time with you, pulling orgasm after orgasm just from his fingers alone, before he would even grace you with his cock. it only took a few different conjured up scenarios for you to have your hands snaking down to pull off your shorts, your fingers immediately stuffing your cunt full, stifling a moan at the ecstasy.

overtaken by the urge to cum you plunged your fingers in and out, scissoring and curling your fingers up against that spongey spot that made you see stars. your eyes rolled back, your back arched and your voice stayed stuck in your throat, chained by your slipping rationality which warred with your spiralling composure. you could feel the heat inside your core as your fingers continued their attack, creating a resounding ‘shwick! shwick!’ which bounced off the walls. your eyes were scrunched, your mind revelling in the scene of jing yuan pounding into your sopping cunt.

you were far gone, way too far gone to notice the quiet pads of feet along your carpet, moving towards the armchair in the corner of your room which faced your bed, and your quickly dishevelling figure. the figure sat on the armchair, sinking into the soft material as he witnessed your sinful performance.

you, none the wiser, continued to guide yourself towards your high, your moans becoming more and more harder to stifle as you completely succumbed to the lust, delirious with pleasure.

“f-fuck! jing yuan, please!” whispered pleas tumbled out of your mouth, wafting in the air till they reached his ears. he parted his legs slightly to ease his oncoming erection, letting his hand prop up his head, as his elbow rested on the arm of the armchair.

you neared your peak, your fingers burning in pain as you furiously pumped to reach your end. your free hand left your mouth and gripped your tit, playing with the peaked nipple to ease the overwhelming feeling you were experiencing.

with a final call of his name, (which was slightly louder than you would’ve liked) your body jolted and shook as you reached an earth shattering orgasm. you convulsed as you came which was probably the hardest you ever had cum before, letting the aftershocks subside.

you suddenly became aware of something poking at your back. you retracted your fingers from your cunt and retrieved the item, seeing the jade abacus in your hand, having accidentally moved underneath your body during your…activities. you then recalled the words jing yuan told your group about gripping the abacus tightly, hoping and praying your recent actions had not triggered a call- still unbeknownst to the figure who had already been summoned, to your dismay.

“that was quite the show, y/n-”

you stiffened at the deep, powerful voice of jing yuan, perched in your armchair, staring at you with something distinguishable as lust.

“-however, i do recall warning that the abacus shouldn’t be used for inappropriate circumstances, no matter how amusing that circumstance may be.”

you were stunned into silence, riddled with shame and hushed with guilt. there was simply no rational explanation for this as you were half naked in front of him. and you had no knowledge of exactly what point he entered your room, therefore meaning you had no idea just how long he’d been watching, although evident that he had been in the room long enough to make himself comfortable on that damned armchair.

“cat got your tongue? seems like i’ll have to administer your punishment first.”

by this point he had risen, beginning to take off his boots and the numerous straps and harnesses that made up his uniform. he then took off his tight shirt, leaving him in his red pants, while crossing the short distance to your bed, raising your hand which was wet with arousal, lifting it to his mouth and giving your index and ring finger a long lick.

“i… uh-”

“hush. naughty minxes like you do not deserve to speak. lay back and spread your legs. i will not ask twice.”

although confused and befuddled you followed his command, not expecting events to turn out like this, not that you were complaining. he lowered his face so he was level with your dripping cunt, observing it as your cum dripped out.

you lifted your head slightly to see why he stalled, feeling a tad bit self conscious. all thoughts flew out of your head however once you felt him lick a long stripe from your cunt to your clit. you instantly mewled at the sensation, hands finding purchase in jing yuan’s hair, gripping lightly, to which he grunted at.

he rose to look at you, amber eyes boring into your own. “if you’re too loud, i’ll stop. we wouldn’t want to wake up your fellow crew now, would you?”

you shook your head vigorously, wanting anything but him to stop in this moment, knowing that this could potentially lead to you getting the fuck of your life. fat chance in hell you would cockblock yourself.

he hummed at your silence, lowering himself back down and resuming again. his tongue swirled around your clit, paying close attention to the bud. he then moved down to your pulsing hole, plunging his tongue in and out and slurping at the soaked flesh. one hand left his head and rose to your mouth to stifle any noises from leaving it. as if it weren’t enough, jing yuan let his mouth leave your cunt, his fingers immediately integrating into the mix, while his mouth moved back up to your clit, this time sucking on it. your eyes rolled back, hips grinding against his tongue to gain more of the sensation.

his fingers were thick and long, reaching further into your core than your own smaller fingers could ever hope to reach. as his assault on your slobbering cunt continued you started clenching down harder on him, signalling that you were about to cum again for the second time that night. your hips ground in circles, the heat inside you blazing hotter with each push of his fingers, the coil tightening until it could resist no longer, and snapped.

your body convulsed once more, even more so once you registered that jing yuan wasn’t letting up on his ministrations, and pulling you into a state of overstimulation.

“shit! jing yuan- oh my god!”

he groaned at the sound of your moans calling for him, using the bed sheets below him to grind against for some semblance of relief for his now raging hard-on.

once he had enough he rose once more, raising his soaked hand to your mouth.

“suck.”

you obliged, wrapping your tongue around his digits, sucking slowly while looking directly into his eyes, unaware of just how much you were affecting him.

“god you’re so sinful.” he groaned, moving his hands to his pants to unbutton them, hastily slipping them off, along with his boxers, leaving him bare, sporting a very large prominent erection. the mushroom tip was flushed with an angry pink, pre cum dripping at the tip. his length had two large main veins running down it before branching off into little tributary like veins.

you but your lip at the sheer size, hoping you could take him all. even with all the prep you had it still looked like a tight fit. he was insanely girthy with an impressive length to match.

this led to a quiet chuckle from jing yuan.

“don’t look so apprehensive, i’ll go slow.”

smug bastard.

he lifted your legs, bringing them down, down, down towards your shoulders. a mating press. your breath hitched at the realisation, knowing that he was about to fuck up your insides.

“take a deep breath, kitten.”

you took a slow inhale, feeling the tip breach your opening, pushing past and spreading your walls to all opposite ends. the stinging sensation was immediate, his dick stuffing you to the brim, more than his fingers managed to. you instantly gripped his shoulders, lifting your head to bite into his left, thus stifling a pain wrenching moan. many sensations flowed through your body, specifically pain at having never taken a size quite like jing yuan’s before. tears pricked the corners of your eyes before trailing down and staining your cheeks.

he hushed you, wiping the tears away before stroking the hair away from your face, looking at you with adoration and care, forgetting all about the ‘punishment’ he was supposed to give in that moment.

“are you okay? do you need me to pull out?”

you shook your head, lacing your fingers in his hair, and smiling softly.

“no, just give me a moment.”

he nodded, massaging your hips to help you get used to the feeling.

“you feel so good, you’re doing so well for me my treasure. i’ll take care of you soon.”

after a few minutes of adjustment, the pain faded and replaced itself with yearning and pleasure. you started grinding your hips against his, making him see the picture. he pulled out slowly till around halfway, then gently pushed back in.

you let out a small gasp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and whining, edging him to go faster.

he obliged, picking up the pace gradually until the room was filled with soft sounds of repeated ‘paps’. your lips connected with his, tongues dancing in a sloppy rhythm, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth, doing little to muffle the moans and groans entangling in your mouths.

even at such a close proximity you felt incredibly needy, needing him closer and closer to you.

noticing you lose yourself, jing yuan laced his hand in yours, against the bedsheets.

“i’m right here, my love.”

truth be told even jing yuan was struggling to keep himself composed too. your fiery nature around protecting the ones you cared for gave him a sense of familiarity with his duties as general, forever protecting the people of the xianzhou luofu. not only that though, your sense of humour and your witty remarks really captivated him during the times you had together. in his hundreds of years of living, no one caught his attention quite like you did. especially with the way you got along so nicely with yanqing. considering the fact he was practically considered as his son, seeing the two of you bond warmed his heart in ways indecipherable. so, realising that you would be leaving to travel onwards really left a gape in his life that you had just started to piece together.

he gripped your hand tighter, moving with more vigour and urgency, wanting to hold you in his arms forever.

“j-jing yuan-”

“my love?”

“i’m gonna cum-!”

“so do it, cover me with your essence, i’ve got you, always.”

his words carried you to the end and you came all over him, legs tightening against his sides, trapping him inside your cunt. his hips instantly stuttered, losing rhythm and his groans became impossibly deeper, until he eventually spilled his cum all into you, complete with each other.

all was silent for a moment, as both parties recovered from the overwhelming orgasms. jing yuan pulled out and rolled off of you, pulling you into his chest and closing his eyes.

“y/n. stay with me. just for tonight.”

#jing yuan #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader smut #honkai star rail #hsr jing yuan #hsr x reader #hsr smut #jing yuan star rail #jing yuan smut #jing yuan scenarios #honkai x reader #honkai star rail smut #nicxl333 #nicxl333writes #general jing yuan

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bizarrelittlemew · 5 months

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I have a burning curiosity that can only be relieved by an OFMD author. Why is there so much AU fanfiction in this fandom?? 😆 My AO3 search results with every alternate universe tag I can think of blocked are coming up with almost every result on the page filtered out! 🤣 I have nothing against them existing and I'm all for everyone writing what makes them happy, I just wonder how this fandom ended up being so full of them. I used to think SPN was oversaturated with AU's, but it can't hold a candle to OFMD! 😅

okay i wanted to give this a proper answer and also asked a few other authors, so here are some of the reasons we came up with - i think it's a combination of all of these:

while the show takes place in a historical setting, it's not historically accurate or even trying to be. it uses anachronistic dialogue and gives piracy a vibe more like a modern workplace. the characters become timeless in the sense that they are already "modern" characters put into a historical setting, and therefore fit just as well into any kind of AU setting. the characters are what make up the show more than the historical setting

the themes that the show deals with - relationships, sexuality, gender, trauma, family, self-image, mental illness - can be explored in so many different ways given different settings. it's very interesting to examine how the characters would deal with them when thrown into different circumstances and time periods

canon is really good, so while there are gaps in the narrative that can be explored, a lot of people are drawn to putting the characters in entirely different situations and/or feel like canon ground was covered pretty quickly

the story itself translates to other universes very easily. people want to enjoy that story and/or their favorite plot points again and again, but just writing down the plot of the show in the canon setting wouldn't make much sense. by throwing the characters into a different universe, you can pull scenes and plot from canon without just repeating it, putting a different spin on it

very few shows have (canonically) older queer people, and people like the idea of how that translates to other universes

we have (relatively) little canon and had a lot of time between seasons. considering the size of the fandom, amount of canon, and time since canon, the proportion of AUs is not surprising

if we assume proper tagging, AUs make up around 27% of all ofmd fanfics by number of works, but probably much more by word count, since a lot of canon fics tend to be shorter. in comparison, that number is around 20% for SPN and 34% for Merlin 🤷

also i've seen a lot of people starting out by only wanting to read canonverse fics until they gave an AU a try and BAM they were hooked 😌

and last but not least:

Ed and Stede fall in love in every universe 💗

#asks #Anonymous #ofmd #ofmd meta #ofmd fic #thank you yesties and meow for your perspectives <3

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carmyboobear · 3 months

Text

ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it.

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love.

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you

A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!

CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza

It always stays the same.

This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.

No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.

He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for?

What is he even for?

These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.

Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.

Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…

The quiet is dangerous.

It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land.

A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:

Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—

“Mornin’, Carmy.”

Until his roommate wakes up, that is.

When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.

He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there.

If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.

They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home. They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…

That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.

On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…

He’s grateful. Incredibly so.

And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—

It always stays the same.

“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.

Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind.

“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.

“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”

“...And that would be?”

“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look. No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”

He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh.

“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.”

“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”

“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”

“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues.

“Name one,” they argue back.

“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too.

“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.”

“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”

“But.”

“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new.

“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all.

Says more about him than them, he supposes.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.”

“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head.

It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not.

It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh.

“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.

“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows.

Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic.

He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth.

By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them.

The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips.

Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.

In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—

But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip.

“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor.

“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent.

His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe.

“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”

“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”

Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking.

“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”

“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”

So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.

She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?

He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens.

Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.

“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”

Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.

“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket.

“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted.

“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”

“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.”

“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”

“The fuck? Why ?”

“Canceled,” he replies simply.

“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”

“Not yet.”

“Great.”

“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”

“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere.

“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.”

“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”

“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”

Silence. The spark of a lighter.

“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside.

Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably. There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—

Shoot me a text, okay?

He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers.

Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.

“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”

“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all.

“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it.

“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on.

. . . . .

It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.

Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird.

It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.

Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.

With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms.

Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.

The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.

You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.

Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.

Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it.

He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.

Oh, he realizes. That’s them.

The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—

There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.

Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all.

They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron.

His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—

“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away.

“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself.

He forgot.

“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.

It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.

“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings.

“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“

“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”

“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.

“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”

“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”

“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.

“Shitty day for you, too?”

“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”

“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”

Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too.

“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected.

They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up.

“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.

“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say.

“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.”

He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does.

He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.

The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else.

He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him.

He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—

He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him.

This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.

He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window.

“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”

“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window.

“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling.

“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused.

Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though.

It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed.

He wonders if they’ve noticed.

“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair.

“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?”

He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh.

“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”

“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”

“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”

“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”

“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”

They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects.

“And?”

“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.

“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.

“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight.

“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”

“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”

“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”

They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.

Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does.

This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud.

“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!”

“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”

“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space.

“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter.

“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face.

“Oh,” he reacts mildly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”

“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically.

“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”

“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten.

When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected.

“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”

“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”

“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it.

“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”

“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”

“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”

“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is.

“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth.

“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food.

“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?”

“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”

“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”

They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it.

“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.” Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…”

“...And?”

They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it.

“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”

As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does.

“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.

Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go.

Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?

But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.

He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten.

The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end.

And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed.

“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”

“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.

“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”

“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.

Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep.

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.

“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Weed,” they say with a shrug.

“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes.

“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”

“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”

“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”

“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”

“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.

“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly.

“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”

“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”

“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.

“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face.

“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently.

“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling.

I can’t fucking do this.

The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear.

“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.

What the fuck are you doing?

Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.

“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”

"Night,” he murmurs back.

This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it.

He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things.

This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.

#carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #the bear fanfiction #hahaha i've been stewing on this fic since sept 2023 and now its here... i have like 2 more chapters written right now #they're around the same length #AH!!!! CARMEN BERZATTO!!!!#my writing #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

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caffeinemachine · 9 months

Text

Life Jacket- Chapter 2

Hi!! Thanks for all the love on the first chapter! Sorry this out later than I expected but I couldn't stop writing and I didn't want to end the chapter at an odd spot.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Hope you like this chapter!

WC: 4.8K

Conrad Fisher x Eldest Conklin Sibling Reader

Blurb | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

~~~~~~~~~~

The first day always went the same. Unpack, swim, shower, nap, dinner. Sometimes the first bonfire of the season was the first day we got there, other times it was the next day. This year it was the first. So today’s order was, unpack, swim, shower, nap, dinner, get ready, party.

We all gathered around the table for dinner in our usual spots. My Mom, Belly, and me on one side, Steven and Jere across from us, then Conrad on the end next to me, and Sussanah on the end next to my Mom. The spots never changed over the years, unless we had guests to squeeze in somewhere. The other thing that never changed was the food. Susannah was an amazing cook. She had taught me to cook over the years. I had spent many hours by her side being her ‘little sous chef’ as she called me. This summer she told me she would show me her old college food recipe hacks.

I picked my head up from my plate when I heard Jeremiah’s voice, “So Y/n/n when do you leave for school? Do they have the swim team go early?”

I nodded, quickly swallowing my food so I could answer, “Yeah I have to go early, It's not too bad though only 2 weeks before the regular move-in date. I leave on August 5th.”

Susannah spoke next, “We’re so proud of you, our little fish.” Everyone chuckled at the nickname, ‘little fish’. Susannah had been calling me that for years.

“So what about you man when do you leave for training camp?” Steven asked Conrad, only he wasn’t the one who answered. Jeremiah did.

“He uh quit football.” Silenced stretched over the table. He what? I stared at him in disbelief, but in my heart, a part of me felt relieved for him. Being a student athlete isn’t easy and I knew Conrad only did football for his father. Sure he still loved the sport, but not enough.

“What you quit? Why man, I would’ve killed to play college ball?” Steven asked Conrad but again he didn't respond, his mother answered this time.

“He can always change his mind.” That made Conrad speak up, getting defensive towards his mother in a way I didn't usually see from him.

“I’m not gonna change my mind, I was just gonna sit on the bench all season anyway.” I sat quietly. I didn’t know what to say. Conrad and I bonded over our athleticism over the years, it felt weird to think we didn’t share that similarity anymore.

I hadn't realized I was staring at him until he looked back at me, our eyes locked and yet I still couldn't move. You'd think it'd be instinct to look away but as he came into focus, we just stared. I tried my best to read him to understand why he might do that, Why would he quit? I knew he didn't love it but he had gone this far with it, What made him change his mind?

There was something unreadable in his expression I didn't think it was regret or nostalgia or sadness or anger but instead some combination of all of it. I wondered why. He looked away first turning his attention to his plate as he picked at the food in front of him. I didn't push him on it, I wasn't sure I'd push him on it later either. I’m sure he had a reason, maybe it’d be best if I just let him tell me if he wanted.

The rest of dinner continued on like normal on the first night. Catching up, making jokes, and just being happy to be in each other's presence again. Everyone went their separate ways to get ready for the bonfire, and Belly and the moms stayed downstairs preparing for their movie night. Their tradition started a few years ago when Belly was 11, almost 12. That was the first year we went to a bonfire, Conrad and I were 14, and Jeremiah and Steven were 13. The bonfires were different then, we were with the younger crowd still unmixed from the older kids. It was in the backyard of the house owned by a kid Jeremiah and Conrad knew from sailing camp. Belly was so upset she couldn't come with us. She was too young and we didn't want to have to watch out for her the whole night, or entertain her for that matter. I love my sister and she's gotten a lot better over the years but she loves attention, even though she won't admit it. Having her come meant that I would have to keep her by my side the whole night, that I couldn't mingle with new kids and make new friends. The moms promised to hang out with her that night. They went to the drugstore in town and bought a bunch of candy. Susannah made brownies and they watched a movie, a PG-13 movie which Belly thought was awesome at the time.

I didn't do too much to get ready for the bonfire, it wasn't anything new, but I still like to look a little bit nice. It was the first time I was seeing everybody for the season after all. My hair was down, air-dried from the shower I took earlier so it had a natural wave to it. A little concealer under my eyes, some mascara, tinted lip balm, and that was that. I put on a tank top and some jean shorts with my navy Cousins Beach sweatshirt on top. It tended to get a little bit chilly on the beach at night. I looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes catching on the shimmer coming from my ears. My pearl earrings, Susannah's pearl earrings. She gave them to me for my 16th birthday just like her mother did and I've treasured them every day since.

I had to shoo the thought away as I felt myself getting choked up. I exited my room and went down the stairs, slipping on my very worn-in black Converse by the door. I heard stories of people in college having a designated pair of shoes they called their ‘frat shoes’. This pair of black Converse was that for me over the summer. They had been covered in sand, soaked from water, and scuffed with dirt, more times than I could count.

As I finished tying my last lace, the boys walked down the stairs. I sat up, shoes now tied, and patted my knees, “You guys ready to go?”

“Yep let's do this we're taking my car. Y/N you promised to be DD for the night right? Don’t worry though I won’t drink too much anyway, wouldn't want to be hungover for my first day of duty, right Y/ N?” Jeremiah answered.

I laughed, “No Jere, you definitely shouldn't be hungover. Wouldn't look good for me either after I vouched for you to get this job. But yes I’ll be DD.” He laughed with me throwing his arm over my shoulder as we walked to the car. Steven called shotgun which left me and Conrad to sit together in the back. I hated to admit it to myself but he looked good. How someone could pull off a gray hoodie that well I didn't know, but he pulled off a gray hoodie and jeans better than I'd seen ever before.

The drive was silent in terms of conversation but in the front seat, Jeremiah and Steven were singing their hearts out to Steven's ‘pregame’ playlist off Spotify. I kept my gaze out the window. Partly because I was still taking in the beauty of Cousins, partly because I could look at him. He looked too good and I always had to distance myself from Conrad before parties. I never knew how they’d play out with him. Sometimes he’d just stick close to us, the crew, and have a super fun night hanging out. Usually, that’s what he did when I was at the party with the guys but I’d been told the stories of his playboy party actions when I wasn’t there, and last summer I had gotten a glimpse of it. A girl named Nicole had come up to him and started chatting with him. Within seconds she was quite touchy-feely. Her hand was on his chest or upper arm, even playing with his hair every once in a while. I had whispered into Jere’s ear who was between me and the horny fest, “Who’s that?”

Jere took a quick glance over his shoulder and then whispered back, “Nicole, she and Conrad hook up every once in a while.”

I furrowed my brows, “I’ve literally never seen her before.”

“They met at a party last summer when you had left for swim camp, I think her family like only comes out for August.”

I swallowed the information and then excused myself to get a drink. I stole a beer from the kid's fridge and walked back feeling a little bit better now that I had a drink in my hand. But when I looked up to find Nicole on her tiptoes kissing Conrad against the wall, the power of the drink in my hand ceased. I turned back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter by myself for a few minutes. I had my focus down on my hands when I suddenly looked up at the sound of the refrigerator doors flying open. It was her. She was seemingly grabbing a beer from the fridge the same way I had been just a second ago. I expected her to walk back out to Connie, but instead, she stationed herself on the counter, so I took that as my sign to walk back. It was the first, and only time since I had seen Conrad's fuck-boy behavior, but the stories continued, and I never let myself feel unprepared for the chance I might see it again.

Now sitting in the car with him I did just that as I watched the houses go by. The streets are littered with beautiful bloomed hydrangeas. Suddenly, my hair was pushed behind my ear. I turned my head as his hand draped its way down from my ear to the ends of my hair. His face was soft but I could see the dimples around his smile starting to crease. I shifted in my seat, nervous with his attention on me.

“W-what are you doing?” I spoke lowly. Not that it mattered, Jere and Steven had no chance of hearing over our screaming.

“You’re hiding.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. And it left me speechless. “Your hair is always so soft, you’d think after years of chlorine that wouldn’t be the case.”

That eased the tension a little, as the corner of my mouth turned up. “Well, that's because I wear one of those swim caps.”

He laughed, “I’d pay to have a picture of that.”

I laughed with him, “Don’t say that to my mom 'cause she’d easily take your money for an exchange.”

“Let's go!” Jeremiah shouted, exiting the car along with my brother. I hadn't realized we had stopped.

I looked over my shoulder to see Conrad hadn’t moved. His eyes looked at me like he was observing my soul. I held my breath. As if not breathing would help ease the bubbles floating around in my chest.

I couldn’t bear it.

With an awkward laugh, I scooted out of the car and jogged over to Jere and Steven. I didn’t want to walk down alone. I knew the boys wouldn’t stay by my side the whole night, they’d go do other things within the first hour, but I liked to hold onto them for as long as I could. I didn’t mind the girls I’d met with the guys here over the years, but we were never that close. Nicole, Dara, Gigi, Marisa, and Shayla, we’d all lose contact over the school year. I also knew some people who weren’t from that crew. Some of them I knew from the swim club I used to do at the Country Club when I was little under the Fisher’s name. I wasn’t exactly supposed to be in the club seeing as I wasn’t truly a member but Susannah had a way of getting people to do what she wanted. Kindness can be blinding. The club was mostly made up of little boys, there were only 3 of us girls, Sydney, Ally, and me. Sydney was a nice girl. She was super smart, and ambitous, she’s set to start at Princeton for business in the Fall. Ally, I remained better friends with as we grew up. She was a dedicated swimmer like me so we even ran into each other sometimes during the school year at competitions. Ally was a total sweetheart, but she liked to have fun. She was easy to hang out with, she understood. I hoped they were here, I had forgotten to text them when I got to Cousins.

The fire wasn’t too crazy, they had to be careful not to draw too much attention from the cops. A big crowd of people had already formed though and it was only 9:30. I grabbed a cola from the cooler as I said hello to everyone coming up to us. Chit-chat was made with numerous people, and I couldn’t help but feel these conversations were really competitions for these kids. It was like every comment had to be a one-up to the one previous.

It was around 10:30 when a hand plopped down on my shoulder abruptly. I assumed it was one of the guys but then he came into my eyeline, Peter Millington.

“Yooo Y/N what's good?” He said a little slurred. As he moved to stand in front of me his hand dropped from my shoulder.

“Hey Peter,” I laughed. Peter was a good guy, he was flirty but it was harmless. Annoying, but harmless. I met him at the swim club when we were 10.

“So miss big shot where you heading this fall? I’m sure schools across the country were practically begging outside your front door!”

I laughed, “I won’t deny that, but I’m actually not going far. I’m gonna be going to Harvard.” His mouth hung open.

“No shit.”

“Yes, shit. How about you, still swimming?”

He shook his head, “Nah nah, I’m trying to be a sports agent, I’ll be going to Penn State.”

“That’s great, congrats.” I smiled at him.

He pointed at me a big smirk spreading across his face, “Yeah so you better remember me when you go all famous.” He finished his statement by slightly hitting the side of my arm.

“You got it Pete, I won’t forget you-”

“Belly what the fuck!” My head snapped and my jaw dropped. I took off over to them. I sort of abandoned Pete but eh, he’ll be fine.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Steven yelled.

I smacked his shoulder once I had run up to them. “Stop yelling! You’re making a scene!” I whisper-shouted at him.

Then I turned my attention to my baby sister. My baby sister, who wasn’t supposed to be here. My baby sister, who was just talking to a man 5 years older than her. My baby sister, who chose to wear a tiny skin-tight pink mini dress. My clueless, trouble-causing, baby sister.

“What are you doing here?” I asked her as calmly as I could.

“What I can’t go to a party?” She bit back defensively.

Excuse me? She didn’t get to give me shit for being concerned when she's the one who showed up out of the blue. I scoffed, “Did I say that?”

“What are you even wearing Belly we are on the beach why would you-“

“Steven. Knock it off. Go hang out with Shayla.” This was getting too aggravating. Steven was instigating too much, he must have already pissed Belly off by the time I ran up and now I had to deal with it.

“Did Taylor tell you to wear that or something?” I asked Belly, trying my best to figure out what was going on without having to have an argument in the middle of a party.

“Why can’t I just dress nicely without being questioned?” Why the hell was she being so defensive?

“Again did I say that?” I couldn’t hold back the bite to my tone.

She rolled her eyes before looking at me. But then her gaze sharply caught something over my shoulder. I turned to look. Jeremiah. Drunk off his ass. Standing next to the fire trying to strip and go skinny dipping. He had already stripped off his sweatshirt, shirt, shoes, and socks.

“Great.” I scoffed, running over to my now 2nd problem of the night.

When he saw me running over he smiled brightly, “Y/N! We are going swimming come on! OH MY GOSH Belly! You’re here! You come too!”

Belly laughed beside me and I would’ve thrown a dirty look her way if I had the energy to spare.

“No. No one is going swimming. It’s pitch black, the rip currents are crazy, and you are wasted. That’s all recipe for disaster.” I said authoritatively.

Jeremiah pouted. “Please?”

“No. Now put your clothes on.”

“Booooo.” Was he serious? He swayed as he re-dressed, his shirt blocking his vision. Good god.

“And get rid of the drink Jere, You’ve had enough.”

“Ughhh fine party pooper.” Before I could stop him he threw his drink into the fire.

“Jere-” The fire grew, a blaze lighting the beach. Shouts were heard as other drunk idiots followed Jeremiah’s lead and fueled the fire. “I can’t with this, Jere hang out with Belly.”

He smiled at that, “Alright come here belly button sit with me by the fire.” She giggled and obliged.

I took a deep breath, my feet taking me to the shoreline without even thinking. I needed to calm down. The chaos was overwhelming. I sat down on the sand a few feet away from where the water reached. The breeze flowed against me and I felt my mind begin to ease. This. This is why I always loved Cousins. I will never feel as at peace as I do when I’m next to the ocean. Water just calmed me down. I was the little fish.

I hoped that would never change. I hoped I would always be the little fish, no matter how big or how small the pond. No matter what happened down the line, the peace I felt by the water would never be disturbed. I’d always be, as Susannah so deemed me, a little fish.

I felt a plop next to me in the sand. I knew who it was without even looking, I could simply feel his energy. It was Conrad. He looked out on the water as he placed whatever drink he had in his hand down next to him. I kept my gaze out on the water as well. It felt good to just sit with somebody. With him.

“So you go around telling everybody you’re going to Harvard?” He said, slight humor in his tone.

I sighed, “I mean only when anyone asked.”

“No shouting from the rooftops?”

“No shouting from the rooftops. I’m not a big bragger.” I snickered, and so did he.

“You? Please! You have always been humble but you never shied away from sharing your accomplishments. You should be proud of yourself, it’s a big deal.” I just shrugged in response.

“I’m proud of you.” I looked at him then. His eyes were full of sincerity. I don’t think he knew how much that meant to hear. I caught his eyes flicking to my lips.

Wait what-

He was looking at my lips and when he looked back up his eyes shone with vulnerability. I couldn’t help myself when my eyes dipped down to look at his. I imagined what it’d be like to kiss him. His soft pillowy lips moving against my own. I wondered where he’d put his hands. He seemed like the type of guy to cup the back of your head. I’d feel the weight of his hand as he pulled me into him like he was desperate for our connection. Maybe one hand would fall to my hips or my thigh, acting like an anchor.

I couldn’t let my mind wander too far. Lord knows where that would lead. When our eyes met the tension was unmistakable. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let myself fall into him. I’d never stand back up.

“Stella? Alright, thanks man!”

Spell broken. Peter had just snatched Conrad’s beer from its spot between us and was taking a big slug of it.

“Pete what the hell?” I said, standing up from my seat on the sand.

“Dude give me my beer back.” Conrad stood up as well, Pete was standing between us.

“Whaaaat? You weren’t even drinking it man! It was just- you know just sitting there and all the- all the other Stella’s are gone.” He was plastered. I felt my chest sink. This isn’t gonna go well.

“I don’t give a fuck if there aren’t any left, that one is mine now give it back to me.” Conrad defended.

“Connie come on-”

“It’s just a beer man.” Pete turned to face primarily towards Conrad.

“Exactly, so give me my beer back and get yourself your own.”

“No.”

“Pete come on you definitely don’t need another drink.” I approached him, going to put my hand down on his shoulder to try and calm him down. Then just as I did he rolled back his elbow saying,

“Oh fuck off.”

I fell to the ground. His elbow collided right with my ear and the side of my face. Well, that hurt like a bitch. I’ll have a black eye on my first day back to work. Awesome.

“Y/N-“

I kept my eyes clenched shut for a minute before I felt a hand come to my shoulder, it was Belly and Jeremiah helping me up. My ears rang for a minutes before clearing. I watched as Steven and Jere broke up the fight.

Conrad looked at me as Steven pulled him back. I shook my head and looked away. Actually, I looked right at the flashing blue and red lights now coming from the top of the dunes. Cops, awesome.

“Enough!” I snapped everyone out of it, “Let’s go! Come on!”

I grabbed Belly’s hand as we ran up to the car, glancing over my shoulder quickly to make sure the boys were behind us.

“Jere keys!” I caught the keys as he tossed them to me, unlocking the car doors. “In! Now!”

I started the car, a scowl on my face. My head felt like it was vibrating but it wasn’t like any of them could drive with their intoxication level. I couldn’t believe them. How on earth did they think it was appropriate to act like this? I kept my eyes on the road, but I was sure they could feel the anger radiating off of me.

“Y/N look I-“ Steven started but I cut him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Then Jeremiah came in, “We didn’t mean to-“

“I said I don’t wanna hear it! Unless you want me to hit a drunk teenager stumbling home, you’ll shut up and listen to me! I’m distracted enough by the pinging in my head.”

They were silent after that.

I was mad and I had plenty of reason to be. I had been in this position with my sibling plenty of times, a few with Jeremiah, but never Conrad. I knew he started fights occasionally, but never with me around.

I pulled into the driveway and parked the car. Then I child-locked in all those mother fuckers. I unblocked my seatbelt and positioned myself to be able to see them all. Steven and Jere struggled to open the doors while Belly sat in the middle confused. To my surprise Conrad just sat in his seat, his focus down in his lap, he made no objections. Once the three backseat idiots figured it out they looked to me expectantly.

I raised my brows, “What you thought just cause I didn’t want you distracting me while driving you were gonna be off the hook?”

“Y/N what do you even care? You’re not our mom.” Belly said, rolling her eyes.

She only fueled my anger, “Yeah no shit I’m not 'cause Mom wouldn’t have put up with even an ounce of the crap you guys pulled tonight. Do you think I like playing mommy? Do you think I wouldn’t have rathered to enjoy the first night of my summer stress-free? You are lucky I’m a good sister, 'cause I could so easily walk inside and tell Mom everything that went down tonight. Then maybe you’d realize that having you deal with me instead of mom, is me being nice.” I watched my sibling's attitudes deflate. Jeremiah on the other hand was sitting there trying and failing to hide the smirk from his face. “What’s so funny Jeremiah? Do you think I’m not talking to you too right now? All of you put me in bad positions tonight because of how you acted. ”

Jeremiah chimed in again, “We weren’t that bad.”

My jaw dropped, “Not that bad? Let’s see who should I start with. How about you Jeremiah, I stopped you from getting naked in front of every teenager in cousins, potentially drowning and killing yourself, and even after I did that you acted like an idiot! Throwing alcohol into the fire, you’re probably the reason the cops came! Oh and just the cherry on top, the fact that you’re wasted after promising me you wouldn’t be.” He was quiet now.

“Steven had to cause a whole scene, but I’m not even that mad at him because he was right to be questioning you Bells! How the hell did you even get there?”

She peeked up sheepishly, “I walked.”

“You walked? Belly do the Moms even know you came to the bonfire?”

“No, I snuck out.” She spoke in a quiet tone.

“Jesus Bells! If you had just told me you wanted to come I would’ve vouched for you. For god sake, I would’ve given you a ride!” My head pounded. I rubbed my forehead trying to ease the pain, I needed some advil. “You guys can’t act like that. It’s dangerous, and quite frankly embarrassing. I’m just- I’m done dealing with it.” I took a breath and unlocked the doors, “Go inside guys. Go to sleep.” I sat forward with my head in my hands. I heard the doors open and close as they got out without a word.

Except he didn’t. I didn’t look over at him. I honestly didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t know how I felt at the moment.

“Are you ok? Is your head alright?” He had worry in his voice and I couldn’t help but feel a flutter in my heart.

“I have a headache and I’ll probably wake up to a huge bruise on my cheek but I’m fine.”

“How come you’re not mad at me too?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t mad at you.” I felt his eyes on me the whole time but mine stayed forward at the house.

“You didn’t yell at me like everyone else.”

“Because I didn’t know what to say to you not because I’m not mad at you.”

A beat passed. Just us sitting in the car before he spoke up again, “I’m so sorry you got hurt, Pete was plastered-“

“You could’ve just let him have the beer.”

“Y/N I wasn’t going to-“

“Look it’s been a long night, just- just go to bed Con.” I grabbed the keys and left the car. I hadn’t looked at him once and I didn’t look back at him. I couldn’t. I don’t even think I was truly mad at him, I mean it was Pete’s fault, not his. I was more overwhelmed with tonight’s events and I didn’t have the energy to unpack anything right now. My head was pounding and I needed to lay down. Work would be a nightmare tomorrow morning.

I went straight into the shower when I got inside. I gave myself a quick rinse. Susannah always stoked our bathroom with luxurious bath products for me and Belly. But I know Steven liked it too.

I walked into my room and plopped right down onto my bed. Man, it was soft, and it only seemed softer after a hard night.

I went to grab my phone when I saw it. A water bottle, advil, an ice pack, and a cookie, sitting on my bedside table, and I most certainly didn’t put it there. I knew who did. I knew it was him, and I could feel myself smile a little. I felt myself forgive him, he was hard to stay mad at. He wouldn’t mention it, I probably wouldn’t either, but we knew that we knew. That was enough.

For now.

~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@mid-80s @geekinthefuschiahair @paytonloiselle

#the summer i turned pretty #conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher x reader #tsitp #tsitp s2 #jeremiah fisher fanfic #jeremiah fisher imagine #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher fanfic #belly conklin #steven conklin #tsitp conrad #tsitp jeremiah #conrad fisher x y/n #conrad fisher fluff #conrad fisher angst #conrad fisher x you

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novlr · 1 year

Note

can you give tips on how to change up character dialogue? all of my characters end up sounding the same and i'm not sure how to fix it

How to Write Unique Voices for Characters in Fiction

When it comes to writing fiction, creating unique and believable characters is absolutely essential. One important aspect of character development is crafting unique voices that reflect each character’s personality and background.

Understand your characters

Before you can write distinct voices for your characters, it’s important to understand who they are. Building out a solid foundation and developing compelling backstories is one of the best ways to ensure they always have unique voices. Here are some tips for getting to know your characters:

Write character sketches that detail their backgrounds, personalities, goals, and motivations.

Conduct interviews with your characters as if they were real people, asking them about their likes and dislikes, fears, goals, and more (the Proust questionnaire is a popular way to do this).

Imagine how your characters’ past experiences will change how they speak in different situations and when experiencing varied emotions.

Use description to enhance your characters’ voices

Descriptions can be just as important as dialogue when it comes to creating character voices. Here are some tips for using descriptions to enhance your characters’ personalities:

Use specific details to create vivid descriptions of each character’s body language, mannerisms, and behaviour.

Consider how each character’s mannerisms might influence their speech patterns. For example, a character who is shy might be hesitant to speak or repeat themselves frequently.

Pay attention to how your characters interact with their environment. Do they use their hands a lot when they speak? Do they pace around the room or sit still?

Use sensory details to create immersion. For example, a character who is nervous might sweat profusely or fidget with their jewellery.

Avoid stereotypes and clichés

When writing unique voices for characters, it’s important to avoid falling back on stereotypes or clichés. Here are some tips for creating characters that feel fresh and authentic:

Avoid using dialects or accents. Not only do these often rely on stereotypes, but they also break reader immersion unless authenticity is absolutely essential to the type of book you are writing.

Consider how each character’s background and experiences might influence their beliefs and values. One-dimensional characters built on clichés won’t have unique voices.

Think outside of the box when it comes to creating distinct voices. Instead of relying on traditional archetypes, consider combining traits from multiple sources to create something new.

How to craft unique dialogue

With the basics in place, how do we convert unique character voices into dialogue? Here are some tips for writing dialogue that feels authentic and unique to each character:

Read your dialogue out loud to hear how it sounds, and make sure it’s true to how you imagine your character to be.

Give your characters a unique conversational quirk that feels natural. An example could be that they call everyone “love.”

Vary the length and complexity of sentences to reflect each character’s personality and background.

Consider how each character’s education and experiences might influence their vocabulary and sentence structure.

Use dialogue tags sparingly to avoid detracting from the actual words being spoken.

Avoid using too much exposition or explaining too much in dialogue. Instead, let the characters speak when it serves your story.

By understanding your characters, crafting unique dialogue, using descriptions to enhance character voices, and avoiding stereotypes and clichés, you can create vibrant, engaging characters that will keep readers hooked from start to finish.

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astermath · 1 year

Text

nemesis

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: you made carmen’s life hell in culinary school, except you had no idea. now he finds out you run a restaurant in Chicago, and he’s confronted with the emotions he projected onto you.

word count: 2.9K

notes: kinda got inspired by the lyric "I'm the sweetest girl in town so why are you so mean?" by lana del rey but this was prompted by this ask!!! anyway this starts off in carmy's culinary school era and then goes to somewhere around the start of S1. this will def get a part two!!

♡ LANDING PAGE ♡

warnings: cursing, slight mention of suicidal thoughts, angst

comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content!

You were like the average person's depiction of an angel.

You were so incredibly good at what you did, excelling in every class they got, you were unanimously liked by everyone, always helping out your peers and taste testing, and for all he knew you probably fucking rescued baby polar bears in your spare time too.

You were perfect.

And he couldn't stand it.

Always saying good morning to him, with that sickeningly sweet smile, soft hands easily preparing the dishes he struggled to perfect. And that wasn't even the worst part. Because the teachers loved you too.

"Such an interesting spin on the use of this ingredient."

"I can tell you've really perfected this technique."

"What a unique combination of flavors..."

And they were right. Of course they were right, it's like you were a machine crafted in some kind of lab to outcook him in every way possible.

And it was stupid to be jealous, to almost hate you over it, because he was excelling too. But you were excelling more. His praise seemed worthless compared to yours, and he couldn't even dream of making the kind of connections you seemed to make with the other students.

So he grew to resent you. Even when he went to go work in New York, he couldn't shake the image of you standing in the corner of his kitchen, humming softly while chopping vegetables as you received all the praise he longed for. Some would say his hatred bordered on obsession, he would tell them it’s none of their fucking business.

Over the years, he’d managed to at least slightly shake the image of you in his kitchen, though at his lowest points, he couldn’t help but think of you. Of course Mikey was his primary motivation, but he couldn’t help but feel like possibly surpassing your success spurred him on too. But then again, what success? For all he knew, you quit cooking altogether, he hadn’t heard from you since he left for New York. That was, up until a few days ago.

It had been so busy already, and Carmen was spent trying to keep up with the pace of this business running on its last legs. He groaned into his hands, before going back to chopping tomatoes for his sauce.

“Hi! Can I just get a braised beef sandwich to go?”

Your voice made him flinch. He almost cut into his finger, that honey dripping sweet familiar voice sending a jolt of anxiety over his entire body. No way, no fucking way you were here, in Chicago, in the Beef of all places. He thought he must have hallucinated it, stressed out of his mind from the intense lunch rush they’d just had. But he had to know, he had to find out if you were there, setting foot in his establishment.

So he turned his head to peer over to the counter, and there you were.

Angel of the academy.

Arch nemesis of his nightmares.

Ordering a sandwich from his run down restaurant.

You barely looked any different, and the sight of your smile made his stomach drop. Or flutter. It did something to his stomach at least.

He was just going to let you leave, pretend like he imagined it so he could continue to live his life and believe you were out there pursuing anything besides cooking. But he couldn’t. He had to know, something deep inside him forced him to put his knife down and walk to the counter as you were heading to the door, and call out your name in questioning.

You turned, and when your eyes met he remembered how uncomfortable your eyes made him. How they’d make his face get hot, stutter, think about every mistake he’s made, like he was having an allergic reaction to your eye contact.

“Carmen?” Your voice was soft, unsure, as if you were coaxing a wild animal out of its cage.

Richie looked at Carmen, confused as all hell as to why his colleague was having a nervous staring contest with this random customer. “You know this chick or somethin’?”

He voluntarily ignored Richie’s question, getting from behind the counter and walking up to you. A part of him wanted to bolt, slam the door and tell the others to kick you out. Luckily for him, he’d become the more confrontational type recently.

“Holy shit, it is you!” A bright smile adorned your face, and he swore you were about to go in for a hug when you moved your arms, only to awkwardly cross them when he pulled away a bit. “What are you uh... Doin’ around here?” A stupid question, you were aware, but anything to make conversation with your long lost classmate.

The question made Carmen tense up. Although it was obvious he worked there, the Beef was not... In its prime condition, to say the least. He was a bit embarrassed to admit he owned it, but he wasn’t about to lie to you and make even more of a fool out of him in the long run.

“Makin’ sandwiches.” He sighed, looking down at his shoes for a moment, desperately trying to avoid eye contact. “So uh, what about you?”

“Ah, I run my own place like 25 minutes away from here.”

Ugh.

Of course you fucking did. Of course you, star student that you are, owned your own restaurant in Chicago. He bet it was running so well too, and you didn’t have to worry about half the shit he dealt with on a daily basis.

“Ah, wait, here,” You reached into your purse and pulled out a business card, handing it to him. “We’ve been up and running for only a few months, but it’s going pretty well!” You clutched your hands together, excitedly awaiting his response.

“Cool, cool...” He held the card, carefully reading over every letter. Sunrise diner... Huh. “A breakfast place?”

“You got it!” You chuckled, slightly nervous as you moved back and forth on your heels. You hadn’t seen Carmen in ages, and besides the added tattoos, he truly hadn’t changed that much. He’d matured, surely, but his demeanor remained the same. Curt, bold, something distrusting about it.

“If you want, you could uh... Stop by, maybe?” You fidgeted with the sleeve of your jacket.

Your question made him look up from the card, and a million answers ran through his mind. Did he want to? On one hand, he felt like if he spent any more time with you, he’d start feeling like even more of a failure than he already did. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be bad to scope out the competition, and who knows, maybe the place was shit, and he could sleep at night knowing at least both of your restaurants weren’t doing well.

“Sure, why not.” He shoved the card into his back pocket, crossing his arms. “I’m kinda swamped right now, but I’ll let you know. Maybe this weekend or something.”

“Sure, yeah, totally! My contact info’s on the card!” Your excitement almost made him distrust you even more. Were you planning something? Was this part of some elaborate scheme to drive his business into the ground? Either way, he’d find out sooner or later.

“See you around!” You waved him goodbye, heading outside as he stood there, no reply as the last thing that was heard was the jingly of the bell above the door.

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair before turning back around, seeing Richie lean against the counter with a shit eating grin. “Ex girlfriend?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“Fuck off cousin.”

God, he wished you were just an ex girlfriend.

You were his biggest competition.

Usually when Carmen was up this early, it was to get some preparations done for the restaurant, or if he just hadn’t slept at all during the night.

But now he stood in front of your restaurant, and fuck, he had to admit, it looked good.

From what he could see from outside, the place had a very cozy feel to it. The theme was a mix of a 50′s diner and a casual breakfast spot, and from what he could tell so far, there was no lack of customers either. But that didn’t say much, maybe they were paid actors, right?

He entered and made eye contact with the barista behind the counter who offered him a warm “welcome” and a smile, before looking to the side and waving at someone in the kitchen. Not long after, you walked out, bright smile plastered over your face. He always wondered how you could be so energetic this early in the morning.

“Hey,” he said, hands in his pockets, “nice place.”

“Aw, thanks Carmy!” Your chest warmed at the compliment. “Saved a seat just for you, just follow me.”

He was seated in a booth just for him, and he had to admit, he liked this setup. He could eat his food in peace at least. The vintage feel of the leather cushioning of the benches was pleasant, and the jazz music playing made for a pleasant atmosphere. He’d almost say he would visit a place like this outside of work hours, if you weren’t the one running it.

He looked over the menu, noticing a wide array of breakfast sandwiches, pastries, milkshakes, and the usual coffee arrangement. Nothing too crazy, though he secretly wished he could have chosen something difficult for you to make.

He ordered an eggs benedict sandwich with smoked salmon, a coffee, and a cherry danish. Should be a pretty good test to the culinary quality of the place, he thought.

A waiter came by to drop off his food soon after, and he hated to admit his mouth watered at the sight of it. Everything looked so fresh, and the plating was very pretty too. But cuisine isn’t about how stuff looks, if it was, the Beef would have never existed, that was for sure.

He dug in with his knife and fork, and started eating. He sat through his entire meal in complete silence, simply going through the motions of enjoying a normal breakfast. The barista watched him with careful eyes, as if he was Gordon Ramsey and they were a shitty bakery on the verge of bankruptcy.

He put down his fork, taking a deep breath.

It was fucking delicious.

And every moment he’d spent enjoying it made him angrier and angrier.

So he got up, seemingly in a bit of a hurry, and stormed outside, the door hitting the wall with a loud thud when he exited.

You watched it happen from the doorway to the kitchen, face painted with worry.

“Carmen! Carmen wait!” You started to catch up with him as he walked over to the parking. He didn’t like it, you thought, no, he hated it, he hated it so much he couldn’t even dignify you with a moment of feedback.

Carmen’s face ran red as he could practically hear the blood rushing around his ears, hands starting to reach for his pack of cigarettes as you approached behind him.

“Please, just tell me what was wrong, I-I’ll change it, I can make you something new, off the menu, w-whatever you want, I--”

“God, do you ever shut the fuck up!?” He turned around, yelling loud enough to have you frozen in your tracks. His pack of cigarettes was squeezed tightly in his hand, crumpling the cardboard packaging under his grip.

You felt the paralyzing effect of his loud and furious voice, a cold sweat running over your body now. Before you could even open your mouth to say anything else, he stepped closer, and you didn’t even have the guts to back away.

“Every day in culinary school, you made my life hell! The one thing I have ever fucking excelled at, been noticed at, felt like I should have been alive for, you overtook me in!” His ears rang, and any noise besides his own yelling was muffled.

“You, with your perfect knife skills, endless patience, and your little angel fucking face, always at the back of my heels, the corner of my damn kitchen, making me feel inferior! And then-- then I finally get away from you, think I’ve got some direction in my life, feel a sliver of confidence in my abilities, and what do you fucking do!?” He points at you, finger just an inch away from poking into your sternum.

“You enter my city, my restaurant, and just come and remind me about how much better you’re doing! Because you love to make me feel like I’m worthless, liked I’m always 5 steps behind, don’t you?” He furrows his brows. “Tell me! Tell me that’s why you’re here, because you want to shit on my work, and make me feel worthless!”

You can feel his hot breath on your face, and your knees start to feel weak. You open your mouth, and the tears that had long been building in your eyes start to roll down your cheeks. The first noise that comes out of your mouth is barely half a word, strangled between the knot in your vocal cords that had formed out of fear. You swallow, and finally manage to speak up.

“Carmen, I-I’m... I’m so sorry...” You sob.

The person you’d looked up to since day one of culinary school thought of you as a bully. And you had no clue.

You knew Carmen didn’t like you, but you never knew he hated you this much. You’d noticed the tension in his jaw as you received good critiques, the strengthening grip on his tools when you got close to his station, the lack of eye content he provided when you did briefly talk. Just as much as you noticed his amazing instinct for flavor profiles, his ability to improvise, his insatiable urge to keep going.

It inspired you. So you kept going too. Even though deep down, you’d wish he acknowledged your work.

And now he did, he finally did, but not in the way you’d always hoped for. The man you’d always admired, who was awarded Chef of the Year the same year you considered giving up entirely, was currently inches away from your face, watching you cry.

His expression softened just a bit, and the surrounding sound of cars passing by and distant jazz music finally came back to him. You were sorry. So sorry. You looked like it too, hands clutching the fabric of your apron, shaking slightly, cheeks stained with tears. Shit. Shit, he’d really messed up.

“I-I didn’t... I didn’t know, I swear, I never meant to, I was just--” Your voice broke between sentences, “I was trying to keep going, keep holding on, and you were so... You inspired me, y-you’re...” You swallowed, looking to the side, afraid to face his scowl. “You’re the reason I settled in Chicago. I wanted to-- to work with you, or for you.”

You remembered trying to reach him, but he’d changed numbers, and with his severe lack of social media, trying to find him was damn near impossible. By the time you were ready to start cooking again, the year you heard he won Chef of the Year, you found out he was based in Chicago. You searched online, but to no avail. You figured your best shot was to try and start something in the city, and pray to whatever god would answer that maybe you’d cross paths again.

He stood still, head still reeling and processing what you were saying. This was new information for him, and that changed... A lot. You, the person he’d spent like half of his career trying to catch up to, admired him. He’d almost think you were lying if it wasn’t for the tears streaming down your face, he started to realize just how badly he’d acted out just now.

“I--” He started, taking a step back to get out of your personal space. “Fuck, I should-- I should go.”

You stood there, arms crossed, enveloping yourself and avoiding his eyes like a wounded animal. And the best thing he knew how to do at the moment, was flee the scene. He sucked at his emotions, hell, he could barely even handle his own, how was he going to help you after just cussing you out.

So he backed away, leaving to the nearest metro station to get out, leaving you alone outside.

Carmen got home that same day, back against the door as he sat on the floor of his apartment. He felt horrible, like there was a gaping hole in his chest, and he imagined you felt about a hundred times worse. He couldn’t believe what he did, all because he projected this horrible false narrative onto you, stemming from his own self hatred.

He sighed shakily, pulling out his phone and calling his older sister, Natalie.

“Hey, what’s up Carmy?”

“Hey Sugar-- uhm-- so you remember--”

“Are you okay?” She questioned, clearly worried at the shakiness of his voice.

“I’m fine, I promise, please can you just-- just send me the info for the therapy thing. Please.” He sighed. “I’m uh... I’m startin’ to believe I might actually need it.”

A pause remained for a moment, and he almost thought she hung up.

“...Bear?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened?”

tag list <3

@beebslebobs @thatone-brightstar @spr3id @deadandstill @777iii

#aster writes the bear #carmenmath #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #jeremy allen white imagine #jeremy allen white fic #the bear #carmen berzatto writing #carmen berzatto the bear #the bear fic #the bear writing #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 6 months

Text

Unpredictable Part 3-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: AAAH, thank you for all the support on this. I didn't think it'd be a series but I can't stop writing.

Warnings: toxic parents, body shaming, eating disorders, alcohol abuse, and swearing

Words: 7.7k

Series Masterlist

“…and that’s how I knew that I was meant to do charity work,” the nasal redhead concluded.

That afternoon, the Si Chi house was packed with pledges in floral or puffy Selkie and Miss Selfridge sun dresses. A handful of servers circulated the foyer with trays of orange juice and mimosas. The combination of Prada Candy and Viktor Rolfe Flowerbomb made my head spin but I smiled through it as I nodded at different pledges’ stories. All of them were desperately trying to toe the line between interesting and bragging because one could never act too important for a potential house.

“That’s great news,” I glanced at her name tag, “Brenda since Si Chi regularly engages in philanthropic work.”

Brenda smiled widely, making the hot pink blush on her cheeks even more prominent. “I know, that’s why I’m so interested in joining this---your house.”

“Well, we are glad that you took the time to visit us. Would you excuse me?”

As I weaved my way through the foyer, I plucked a mimosa from a passing server and started sipping. Exactly five seconds passed until I was surrounded by a new crop of bright-eyed freshmen.

“Oh my gosh, are you Y/N Y/L/N?” a willowy brunette asked.

“Guilty, and you are?”

“She’s Justine,” a shorter brunette interrupted.

Justine narrowed her eyes and thinly covered the glare with a smile. “I can introduce myself, thanks, Renee.”

Renee shrunk a little in her oversized light blue sundress and I glanced at Justine.

“So, why are you interested in our house?” I asked.

Justine straightened up and smiled like a pageant girl. “Well, I’m perfectly aligned with all the values of Si Chi: Sisterhood, respect, and intelligence. I am all about women empowerment and I respect people from all backgrounds----I’m exposed to a bunch of different people as an actress, anyway.”

“What about intelligence?”

“Well, I think there’s many different kinds of intelligence and, as an actress, I’m emotionally intelligent to the point where I’m exhausted by everyone else’s energy.”

“She really has to prioritize self-care,” Renee added.

“It’s great that you’re aware of that for yourself.”

She had to be one of the least self-aware people I ever encountered and that was a difficult fete. However, her socials had decent numbers and she had been in a few Vought Plus movies, which would help her win Sydney and Lydia, the vice president, over. The next two years with her and her friend would be irritating.

A softer expression slipped across Justine’s face, and she took a step towards me. “I just want to say that I think it’s so brave that you’ve been participating in all the rush events despite your traumatic experience. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see Luke,” she paused and placed a hand on her chest, “kill himself.”

Though it had been a week since, it still felt like a bomb rolled off Justine’s tongue when she said it. The wave of emotions that I experienced in that time was hard to describe; Shetty said that grief was a rollercoaster, and the influx of emotions was normal.

“As impossible as it may seem, one day you will come to accept what happened,” she’d advised. “You may experience more anxiety but, with your network, I am sure you will be able to cope.”

The network she referred to was strained at best and destroyed at worst. My “sisters” were as supportive as they could be: Alina gave me a Lush self-care kit, Sasha was not nearly as antagonizing as usual, Lydia gave me grief book recommendations, and Sydney let me pick what workout classes we attended. Emma and Cate were the only non-Si Chi people I spoke to since it was way too difficult to speak to the others.

Justine placed her hand on my shoulder. “If you ever need someone to talk to, you can count on me.”

“Thank you for the thought,” I replied, smiling tightly.

“You must be so grateful that Marie was there to stop him,” Renee quipped.

I sipped some more juice to keep the confusing feelings from bubbling up. Nothing could have prepared me for Marie and Andre being propped as the Guardians of Godolkin, which was arguably the dumbest name Vought could give them. The less I wanted to see them, the more I saw their promos and videos. It was horrible that the last time we spoke we had a fight but every time I saw her, I felt a weird wrench in my chest.

At the very least, Emma seemed happy for her.

Then, Coco Allen, a Si Chi junior, appeared from the crowd and squeezed between the freshmen. “There you are, Y/N, I have a crim freshman with a water manipulation ability who wants to pick your brain.”

“Sure. Will you excuse me?”

“Bye!” Renee called as Coco pulled me through the crowd.

When we got to the less populated living room, I exhaled a breath I did not know I was holding. Then, I turned to the beaming Coco.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. You know I hate entitled freshmen,” Coco mused.

Coco was the only other black girl in Si Chi and happened to be the first one to talk to me when I visited the house last year. She was a little shorter than me with deep mahogany skin that always glowed. She always wore her waist-length jet-black hair in tight curls and accessorized solely with gold jewelry. That day, she wore a fitted white sundress with espadrilles.

“Were there this many last year?” I asked.

Coco shook her head. “But there are a few more black girls so it’s promising.”

“That’s great! I hope I can find them before the event’s over.”

“That would be great.” Coco eyed me. “So, how are you holding up?”

“I’m okay, the mimosas don’t hurt though.”

“They never do. You didn’t have to come today, you know, you could have taken more time, get out of here for a minute.”

I shook my head. “I needed this, it’s a nice distraction or, it has been. Besides, what would it look like if the secretary didn’t attend?”

Coco nodded slowly but I could tell that the gears in her head were turning too much for her to be convinced. “You’re already Sydney and Lydia’s favorite and they might have let it slide.”

I cocked my head at her and she immediately started chuckling half-heartedly.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. The hoops they make us jump through are ridiculous,” Coco reflected.

“It makes sense why you didn’t want to be an officer even though you’re poli sci,” I commented.

Coco grinned. “Hey, I’m making decent connections just by being in this house. This is just a steppingstone on my path to become the first black woman supe president.”

Even though the title was long, if anyone could do it, it was Coco. One time last year I sat in on one of her debates in class and she had a senior in tears and their debate partner ready to put their laser eyes to good use.

“Well, don’t forget little ole me when you’re a big shot,” I teased.

Coco frowned. “What do you mean ‘little’? You have done too much to talk like that.”

I shrugged. “Not that they’re not as important but my four-year plan is less impressive than yours.”

“Oh yeah, the plan where you basically end up a trophy wife? No shade but, I think you’d be way too bored in that role.”

“Hey, I would have a city contract too. Plus, it’s what I want and what I see for myself every time I look into the future. Every step I have taken up until this point puts me closer to that.”

My voice was much stronger than I thought it would be but Coco was always pushing me. Some days it was motivating and on others, it was infuriating.

“Like I said, I’m not trying to crush your dreams or your plan but is that really all you want for yourself? Especially thinking about all the good you’re already doing with your powers?” Coco questioned.

Her words plagued me for the rest of the event and bugged me when we gave our ratings of the pledges to Sydney and Lydia.

“Oh, and Y/N, don’t forget to send me that compilation with all the pledges’ socials,” Sydney requested as I was on my way out of the foyer.

“Of course, you’ll have it by the end of the day.”

Everything was much quieter underwater, except for my thoughts, but those were much clearer. Every time I thought about where I would be in five years, it was the same: smiling at a city event on the arm of some suit. I never saw the man’s face but I knew he had to be somewhat attractive. My eyes fluttered closed at the bottom of the pool and I focused on my future.

It was the same image, complete with flashing cameras and I was wearing a gorgeous rose pink Oscar de la Renta gown. My hair was piled on top of my head in Senegalese twists, and I was smiling widely. However, when I tried to look at whose arm I was on, it was like I could not turn my head. The harder I tried, the sorer the side of my neck got.

After a few more seconds of trying, I pushed myself up to the surface and sucked in the air. The sky was a mix of orange, purple, and blue. Sydney was blasting “My Head, My Heart”, which signaled that she was getting ready to go out with Eric Landon, the president of Sigma Kappa. It would be nice to be asked on a date, a proper one without the expectations of sex later.

My face warmed at the fact that I had never actually been asked out. People constantly told me how good looking I was but that did not translate into boys falling all over themselves for me. There were the occasional fun nights out but it would always end in that same venue. I didn’t think I asked for too much: flowers, good morning and good night texts, respect, intelligence, and ambition. Emma told me I watched too many movies once and while that could have been true, I also thought that it wasn’t too much to ask a guy to hold a door open.

It also did not help that Jordan was the last person I ever got close to being intimate with. I groaned at the thought and dove underwater, making my way to the other side of the pool.

An almost-kiss should mean absolutely nothing but I could not stop thinking about it, just like I could not stop thinking about how Jordan would throw me under the bus to save themselves. I would never do that to anyone, especially not someone I cared about.

But you already did, the voice in my head hissed.

Marie didn’t count, I didn’t mean to do that; Andre, Luke, Cate, and Jordan decided for me. I would have stayed if it was my choice but that didn’t matter to Marie or any of them.

I pushed myself from the side of the pool and butterfly stroked my way to the other side. Thankfully, the water was heated and soothed my aching muscles. As I was about to resurface, I noted a blurry tall blonde figure standing above me. When I pushed up, Cate stood over me, her eyes worried.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hi, can we talk?”

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, I was wrapped in a fluffy towel and standing across from Cate. Her eyes shifted around for a moment before she suggested we headed inside. When we got to my room, she immediately closed the door behind us.

“Is there any way someone would have listening devices in here?” Cate asked.

“No,” I said slowly.

“Are you sure? There’s shit out now where they put it in the tiniest crevices and you would never know,” Cate argued.

“I would have seen it or had a hint about it. What’s going on?”

Cate finally sat on my bed, and I opted to stand across from her. “Andre and I found some stuff that makes Luke and Brink’s deaths way more complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for one thing, they totally cleared out his room the day after he died and I mean everything.”

My eyes widened. “Even the…special drawer?”

“Yes, and at first, I thought it was protocol but what would they do with all those----”

“I get it, Cate, what else did you and Andre find?”

As Cate continued to speak, I could feel my stomach sink further and further, until I was sure it was somewhere in the house basement. Nothing Cate said meant anything positive for anyone. If there was some kind of lab under us, that meant anyone could become a part of it.

“Have you told anyone else?” I asked.

Cate huffed and leaned back on my bed. “Well, Jordan’s been spiraling about Marie and the rankings, so I can’t get a word in about anything else.”

“They’re spiraling?” I asked.

“You haven’t talked to them since Luke died?” Cate asked.

When she said it like that, it sounded like I committed a cardinal sin. After that day, there was nothing else for me to say to them. Even though I saw them in class occasionally, I never spoke to them and desperately tried to avoid eye contact.

“They could have reached out too,” I muttered.

“You’re such a younger sibling,” Cate commented.

“It’s true!” I whined.

“Well, they’ve been freaking out about the rankings since they fell down to number five and Andre’s number one.”

Being in the Top Five was like Jordan’s lifeline. They’d always shared a friendly rivalry with Luke but I knew they wanted to be number one eventually. They spent almost all their time making sure they stayed in a high position and to drop to bottom of the Top Five must have been devastating.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Yeah, and your new best friend cracked the Top 100 and is Jordan’s new nemesis,” Cate added.

I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a chocolate brown loungewear set. “Neither of them are my friends.”

Cate frowned. “Seriously, what is going on with you? The other night, you and Marie were inseparable, and you and Jordan were bantering. What happened?”

It must have been the fact that I was holding all my thoughts and feelings in because I burst.

“Marie and I can’t be friends since she thinks I’m a shallow bitch who would sacrifice her to save myself because I hang out with people who do. The funny part is that Jordan admitted they would backstab me if they could get ahead, which is definitely not something I would do to a friend or anyone I almost kissed!”

I was panting by the end and my chest felt a lot lighter. However, my nerves began to build when I noticed Cate’s mischievous grin.

“Who did you almost kiss?” Cate asked.

“That’s not the point,” I mumbled.

Cate stared at me for a second before lighting up. “It was Jordan, wasn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You hesitated which means I’m right. It could have easily been Marie though since you were all over her.”

“Why do people keep saying that? I was being nice!”

Cate held up her hands in a relaxed defense. “Chill, Y/N, it’s okay to like more than one person at once.”

“I don’t like either of them.”

“At all?” Cate quirked an eyebrow.

“No,” I pouted.

Cate looked unimpressed and I felt even more unimpressed since I knew that I liked Marie and Jordan platonically.

“Okay, we’ll save that for later but, I don’t think Jordan would tell you that they would backstab you and they would not think about it. They would do it to other people, but not you.”

“You’re just saying that because they’re your friend and you weren’t there.”

Cate cocked her head to the side. “Think, Y/N, did Jordan really say, ‘I would backstab you if it would save my ass’?”

As I recalled the memory, I slowly rocked back and forth on my heels. “They didn’t say that but, they didn’t answer me when I asked if they would.” “You probably caught them off guard,” Cate reasoned. “I’m sure if you talked to them, things would go okay.”

I hesitated and set my clothes on my bed. “Let’s say that I decided to speak to them, I don’t know what to say. Even if I did, my class tomorrow isn’t with them.

“You’re not going to the Think Brink gala tomorrow night?” Cate asked.

Earlier that day, Mom mentioned something about a gala on the phone but I was only half-listening. In my defense, there was only so much complaining about her clients and Dad that I could stand. I grabbed my phone from my nightstand and “Go to Brink gala” was in bright letters on my calendar.

“I guess I am,” I concluded.

“Then, you have some time to figure it out. You might get lucky and not even have to say anything.” I nodded and messed with the charm on my phone. “But what about Marie?”

“You’ll figure that out too. Indira’s taking her to the gala so, you can get both your ‘friends’ back,” Cate said, putting “friends” in air quotes.

“Why did you do it like that? Don’t say it like that.”

“Just because you’re in denial doesn’t mean I am. Think about it, would you be this freaked out if we had a fight?”

The “yes” should have come immediately but it didn’t; it died in my throat, and I couldn’t look at Cate. Why were things different with Marie and Jordan? Why did I stress out about them when I tried to stop thinking about them?

“Can you just make me say the right thing?” I asked.

Cate mulled it over for a moment. “I think it’s best if you do it yourself. If you don’t have a vision about it, something will come to you.”

“Thanks, Cate. If you and Andre need any help snooping----”

“You will be the first person I text,” Cate assured.

“I was going to say that I’ll probably know before you.”

I narrowly avoided the pillow Cate tossed at me and laughed at her effort.

“Maybe you are getting a little too cocky, Y/N.” She stood and walked over to me. “And for the record, I would never betray you in any way, neither would Andre or Jordan. If either of them did, they would have to deal with me.”

“Thanks, I would hug you but I’m still soaking wet.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. I know this might be useless but try not to worry about everything.”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to try.”

“You’re taking the meds from Indira?”

“Yes, Mom,” I teased.

“Just trying to help.”

Strangely, that was the first night since Luke’s death that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The trend was that I would strain myself to have premonitions until I was exhausted and tried again in the morning. For once, sleep found me quickly.

After sitting through a two-hour lecture on trauma’s impact on villains and heroes, I was more than happy to wander back to the Si Chi house and decompress. In a few hours, Talia, Mom’s assistant, would arrive with options for the gala. Then, the glam team would arrive and do their best to ignore Mom while they did their jobs.

I needed all the relaxation I could get.

As I was mentally reviewing which movies I could watch, my phone kept buzzing in my back pocket. I thought it was another flurry of comments on the TikTok Coco and I made yesterday but it was from a strange number.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Y/N, pls come 2 my dorm, it’s an emergency.

XXX-XXX-XXXX: Im srry we haven’t talked in a while but it’s important.

I frowned and typed back, ????

XXX-XXX-XXXX: It’s Marie. Emma’s in trouble.

My stomach dropped and I replied, B there soon.

As I raced around other people on campus, my thoughts moved faster at the possibility of what could have been going on with Emma. The last time I had spoken to her was two days ago and she was okay then. If anything, she may have been tense because Marie and I were not speaking but she had not said anything else.

I was halfway to their dorm when I ran into something solid.

“Watch where you’re going, Y/N,” Maverick sneered.

“If you put on some clothes, maybe I’d see you,” I shot back as I continued down the hall.

When I finally got to their dorm, I was panting and could barely knock. Marie pulled the door open, pulled me in, and closed the door behind me.

“Did you sprint here?” she asked.

I nodded. “You said…it was…an….emergency…Emma.”

In the middle of me grabbing my bearings, I noticed something tiny next to one of the supports on Emma’s bed. Slowly, I slid to my knees and crawled over to it. When I realized who it was, a choked gasp escaped my mouth.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. She was like that when I got here and I didn’t know what to do so I called you since you’ve known her the longest,” Marie rambled.

Her words barely registered in my brain as I went to one of Emma’s drawers, grabbed a small set of clothes, wrapped her in it, and carefully set her on her bed. Emma was barely breathing and was ghostly pale.

“Emma, I know you’re probably not going to like this but, you’re going to need to eat something.”

She didn’t reply and for a second, I wondered if she could.

I started rifling through all her stuff until I found a box of crackers. My hands trembled as I broke them into small pieces and kneeled in front of Emma. She never looked at me as she nibbled on each crumb I fed her.

Eventually, she grew back to her normal size. As soon as she was, she pulled her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry you saw me like that,” she muttered.

Slowly, I sat next to her and it was almost the same way zookeepers treated wild animals. If one moved calmly enough, they would not get attacked. Marie sat on her bed.

“It’s okay, I’m glad we were able to help,” I replied. “What happened?”

Emma sniffed. “I opened up to this girl in my class. We’re scene partners for a project and we were talking, and I guess I felt comfortable enough to tell her about how I get small. I thought it was just between us, but she posted this…this video on YouTube telling the whole world about it.”

“Who’s the girl?” Marie asked.

“How do you get small?” I uttered at the same time.

Emma froze for a moment and looked away from me. “I make myself…sick.”

When she said it, I suddenly remembered all those times she would go to the bathroom and then come out a miniature version of herself. However, all those times, it was for different commercials or other work-related events. Then again, there had to be times when she did it at home or at my house.

How did I never notice? “Emma, I’m so sorry. I wish you would’ve told me sooner,” I said.

Emma turned to me with a glare in her eyes. “Really? How would I work that into a conversation? ‘Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry to interrupt but, I make myself throw up to get small’?”.

“We’re friends, friends tell each other this kind of thing,” I insisted.

Emma scoffed. “Please, like you would get it if I told you. You’re perfect, you always have been. Your face, your hair, your body, your eyes, your life!”

“That’s not fair.”

“Emma, I think you need to get help,” Marie interrupted.

Emma’s gaze flickered to hers and I thought she might set Marie on fire. “I need to get help, that’s rich coming from you. You act like no one can see your scars.”

Marie flinched and her eyes narrowed slightly. “I do that for my powers, that’s different.”

Emma laughed callously. “Please, at least be honest. How about this: I’ll go to therapy when you admit to cutting.”

Emma’s voice had no tone and every word she said was like a hammer slamming into my chest. She wasn’t in the right headspace for any conversation and I kept reminding myself as I stood.

“We should talk later when we’ve all calmed down,” I suggested.

“I don’t want to speak to either of you again,” she hissed.

It took more effort than usual to swallow the lump in my throat as I let myself out of their dorm. Just as I was about to lean against the door and wallow, Marie slipped out behind me and shut the door. I took a step back, barely avoiding a pair of girls rushing past.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

“It’s fine.”

Silence filled the space for a moment, and I had no idea how to fill it. Cate said I would know what to say but I was at a loss.

“I’m sorry about what I said…that day,” Marie delivered gently.

My eyes snapped up at her. “Oh.”

She sighed. “I was just angry, and I thought you were a part of it but, Emma kept saying that you would never do something like that. I just didn’t know how to reach out or say anything.”

I know the feeling.

“I accept your apology but I’m also sorry that no one came back for you. I guess it worked out, though?”

Marie sighed and leaned against her door. “Sort of. The perks are nice and I’m in crim now but I feel like everyone’s looking at me and expects something from me; almost like they’re waiting for me to fail.”

“Really? They had me convinced you’d be the black Starlight,” I teased.

Marie laughed half-heartedly. “I still want to be a hero, though, someone like her people can look up to.”

“Anyone in particular?”

Marie hesitated. “My little sister. We were both obsessed with heroes when we were younger, but I was the one who got Compound V. She always looked up to me and I want to be someone who would make her proud.”

“That’s a really admirable goal,” I complimented.

She smiled softly. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be my competition to be the black Starlight?”

My expression faltered and I looked down at my French acrylics. “No, I don’t think I have the showmanship you do. Besides, my goal isn’t to be in the Seven.”

“Really? What do you want to do?” Marie asked.

“So, I have this four year plan and if I follow the steps I am on to a T, I will graduate with a city contract and be engaged to an eligible supe.”

Usually, when I told someone my four year plan, my chest swelled and my shoulders rolled back unconsciously. This time, it felt like I was a toddler showing my mom a drawing I made in school.

“Is that it?” Marie asked.

“I know it’s more traditional and maybe even a little lame but, it’s what I want,” I maintained.

Marie nodded slowly.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I just imagined you doing something in, like, criminal AI or stopping criminals from re-offending.”

“Both are great, they’re just not me.”

“Which is fine,” Marie insisted.

She sounded a little too eager but I let it go as we started walking down the hallway.

“What should we do about Emma?” Marie asked.

“I’ve never seen her like that before but she’ll need time to cool off.”

“Sounds good, I just have nowhere to go until the gala tonight.”

“You could come to Si Chi for a bit. I can’t promise they won’t try to initiate you, though.”

Marie laughed. “Me, in a sorority?”

“Hey, we’re getting more black girls this year so you never know!”

“Whatever but, yeah, I’d like to hang out with you…at your house.”

Even though Marie rushed the last part, a smile quirked on the corners of my mouth. It would be nice to have a new friend over and it was even nicer that there was no more tension between us.

“You know, Emma never told us the name of that girl,” Marie pondered once we got outside.

“Oh, that’s easy.” I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I reached the right one.

Shelby answered on the first ring. “Y/N, hi!” “Hey, are you on your way to class?” I asked.

“Yeah, if I’m late one more time, Professor Elix is going to make me do an improv one-woman show!” she panted.

“Well, I don’t want to slow you down but, you have class with Emma Meyer, right?”

“Oh yeah, Intro to Stage, why?”

“Cool. She told me her stage partner has an incredible Insta aesthetic, but she never told me her name and I need new inspo.”

“Oh, that’s Justine. I don’t know her last name but I’m sure you’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Shelby. Have fun in class.”

“Thanks!”

I hung up and turned to Marie, whose eyebrows were raised. “What?”

“What was that voice?” Marie asked.

“It was my voice. Haven’t you heard of code-switching?”

“Fine. Did you get the name?”

“Yes, Justine and I’ve met her.”

“What? How?”

“She’s rushing Si Chi.” I couldn’t keep the devilish smile from working its way into my mouth.

“What does that look mean?” Marie asked.

“It means that there are many more perks to being in a top house besides living in it.”

For some reason, everyone thinks that white girls have a monopoly on passive aggression and relational aggression. That was not the case at all; black girls simply are more inclined towards active aggression but we’re capable of both. I proved as much during Brink’s gala.

The ballroom was packed with board members, trustees, alumni, and the wealthiest GOD U students, the latter being my target of interest. They were all easy to approach since I had met them at some function or another.

“Y/N,” Bianca Peterson gushed as she hugged me.

Her Gucci Guilty perfume tickled my nose and I willed myself not to sneeze as I politely pulled away from her. “Bianca, it’s been too long. I think the last time I saw you was at Beta Ro’s Brunch for Boy Scouts.”

Bianca nodded, light auburn curls bouncing around her sculpted features. “Yes, we bonded over jewelry.”

“And you still have fantastic taste,” I mentioned, gesturing to the gold buckle around her wrist.

“Thank you, it was a present from Theo but I gave him a few hints,” she bragged lightly.

“How is rush going?” I asked.

“Pretty well, our pledges are shaping up nicely this year, not that they don’t every year,” she quickly added the last part.

“Of course. Do you have a lot of girls from Counting?”

“We’re interested in a couple, why? Are you trying to poach?”

I shook my head. “Not at all, I just wasn’t sure if you heard what Layla from Zeta Nu discovered.”

Bianca raised a microbladed brow. “No, I don’t think I have.”

I took a deep inhale and slowly shook my head in disbelief. “Oh, well, I should let it come from her then.”

A moment later, Bianca glanced across the room at Layla Ruthers, the president of Zeta Nu, who was smiling politely at a pair of hunched-over old men.

“In case I don’t have a chance to talk to her, what happened?” Bianca asked.

I glanced around us for a moment before leaning closer. “Apparently, a freshman posted a video about another girl’s eating disorder.”

“Really?” Bianca’s eyes widened.

I nodded. “Layla was insulted for the other girl and banned the pledge from rushing Zeta Nu. She even said that no respectable house would accept someone so low-class.”

“Oh,” Bianca uttered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take up all your time. I should go mingle.”

I made it about two steps before Bianca gently grabbed one of my arms.

“Wait, Y/N. Did Layla say the name of the pledge?”

My eyes wandered around the twinkling lights of the room for a second. “Justine something, I think.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure!”

The rest of my conversations followed that pattern. Each girl I spoke to was shocked and horrified by my words. Plus, none of them would dare speak to the other; that would mean another house had better information than them. My final target was easily the most important one: Sydney.

In her ice-blue mermaid dress and intricate updo, she looked more like Cinderella than a gala attendee. She was standing at a table, nodding her head at something a shorter guy was saying.

“Excuse me,” I politely interrupted, “I need to borrow Sydney for a second.”

The guy deflated slightly. “Sure.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Sydney huffed a sigh of relief as soon as we were out of earshot. “Thank you, I don’t know what he was even talking about.”

“Anytime,” I replied.

She snatched a champagne flute from a passing server and downed half of it. “I can’t wait for this night to be over.”

I nodded. “It is morbid despite their attempt to dress it up.”

“Yeah, and my parents won’t stop bugging me about my future. I can only apply to so many internships and not everyone is looking for a telekinetic,” she griped. “Sorry, how are you?”

“I’m alright. Ironically, I think he’d hate the name they picked but I didn’t know him super well,” I admitted.

“Right.”

Here it goes.

“So, I think the event the other day was a success,” I commented.

“Definitely. The house was packed. It’s too bad we can’t accept them all.”

Sydney smiled as she spoke.

“I know. It’s great that there’s so much interest.” I paused for a second. “But, I wanted to tell you that something came up with one of the pledges.”

Sydney gestured for me to continue.

“Even though my social media deep dive on the pledges was thorough, something came up today that I thought you should know when considering the pledges,” I explained.

“Okay.”

“Today, Justine posted a video exposing another girl’s eating disorder. Several of the girls were upset when they saw it.”

“That’s awful,” Sydney responded.

“It’s also so disappointing since I met Justine during that event, and she was saying how women empowerment is important to her. I know that women empowerment is a huge passion for you and a foundation for Si Chi and to imagine a pledge so willing to tear down another woman infiltrating the safe space you building is horrifying.”

Despite the liquor, I could tell Sydney was processing my words quicker than any computer. Her expression shifted from shock to anger to coldness. Then, she finished the last of her champagne and set it on the table closest to us. “Thank you for telling me, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

As she walked away, I grinned widely at the response. Bid Day was going to be even more fun and interesting than last year. To celebrate, I grabbed myself a flute of champagne and sipped it as I started to wander the room.

“Y/N!”

My body froze at the masculine voice and my mind raced with what to say or do. Finally, I decided to face Jordan. They were in their masculine form and standing at a table by themselves. Though they looked fantastic in their navy suit, they looked like they hadn’t slept in days.

“Hello.”

I practically sang it and prayed for someone to make the floor swallow me.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

“Um, sure.” I walked closer to their table and rested my forearms on it.

“It’s good to see you,” he started. “Outside of class, I mean.”

“You too.”

Jordan nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s good.” He paused. “I’m sorry about everything.”

I looked up from tapping my nails on the tablecloth. “Wh---”

“Please, let me finish. That day…I don’t know why I didn’t just tell you that I wouldn’t throw you under the bus but I wouldn’t even think about it. How could I do that to my little freshman?”

For the first time ever, my chest warmed at the nickname. However, I tried to bite back the smile that was worming its way onto my face.

I glanced away for a moment, crossing my arms over my purple sleeveless satin gown. “Well, I guess I forgive you,” I playfully grumbled before turning back to him. “But you still did it pretty easily to Marie.”

Jordan’s expression faltered and he sipped some champagne. “Don’t mention her.”

“Why not? She’s my friend and we did a very mean thing,” I argued.

“Look, I protected myself and you that night, I won’t apologize for that. Besides, she’s still here and she’s doing great,” he spat.

“I know you’re pissed about the rankings but, those can change, especially with how hard you work and how powerful you are.”

Jordan scoffed. “That’s how it should work but no one wants to back a bigender Asian.”

His words made me stop for a second. In all the time I knew them, Jordan seemed invincible to punches, laser beams, electric shocks, and words. They made succeeding at Godolkin look so easy but it must have been anything but. Plus, Luke and Brink’s death must have impacted everything else.

“We’ll see about that,” I challenged. “There’s about thirty trustees and every board member in this room. There will have to be a few who will like you.”

Jordan hesitated. “I’m not really in the mood to promote myself.”

“Then let me talk,” I offered.

He eyed me for a while before crossing over to my side of the table and looping one of his arms with mine. “Don’t make me look bad, freshie.”

“I think that’s impossible.”

The first target was easy: a thirtysomething white guy with floppy light brown hair and an oversized gray suit. I focused on him for a moment, gathering as much information as I could.

“Trevor Emerson, GOD U alum and old money beneficiary,” I muttered to Jordan.

“Isn’t he supposed to hate me?” Jordan hissed back.

“He’s overcome by white guilt since his recent discovery that all the black and brown people who built and managed his family’s manor were not salaried employees,” I explained. “He’s dying to look as much of an ally as possible.”

Jordan straightened up. “Good job, freshie.”

“I haven’t even gotten started.” I painted a polite smile on my face. “Mr. Emerson, it’s so nice to meet you, can we bother you for a moment?”

Two guilty and three haughty donors later, Jordan and I found ourselves at a different table. It was the first time that I saw him smile that night.

“You were amazing out there,” Jordan exclaimed.

“Thank you but you also made my job a little easier being talented and whatever,” I joked.

“Seriously.” Jordan grabbed my hand. “You might have saved my ass.”

I tried to ignore the tingle that shot up from my hand into the side of my neck. “It’s okay, I’m happy to help.”

When they announced that the video was about to start Jordan sulked again. “I can’t believe they’re making us sit through this shit.”

“Me neither.” I rest my hand on top of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner but, are you okay?”

Jordan laughed humorlessly. “No but schmoozing with you did help a little. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.”

When we parted our separate ways, I wiped my sweaty palms on my dress skirt and approached my table. Fortunately, Mom and Dad had not burned down the ballroom with their arguing. In fact, when I got to their table, Mom was on her phone and Dad was rhythmically tapping his fingers against the tablecloth, looking anywhere but her.

“Hi, were you bored with me gone?” I asked, giving Dad a side hug.

“Not at all. I met a few board members and sold a few pictures,” he responded.

I nodded and slowly took the middle seat between them. The video was equal parts patronizing and infuriating. However, my parents’ whispers kept me from focusing too much on the video.

“Y/M/N, can you get off the phone for one second? They’re playing the video,” Dad hissed.

“I am about to cut the biggest deal of this quarter. They can send it,” Mom hissed back, waving a manicured hand for emphasis.

“Mom, people are starting to stare,” I quietly interjected.

“Let them stare. This is what’s paying for you to be here.”

“Don’t act like I don’t contribute!” Their words used to make me flinch but I forced myself to sit up straighter and breathe.

“I’m grateful for it, for both of you, really. You both paid to be here and I thought you would not want to miss the man they’re honoring,” I whispered.

Those words made Mom slowly mutter something into the phone before placing it face down on the table and leaning forward. At that same time, they flashed a picture of Brink and me across the screen. He had been meeting with my small group when the photographer appeared.

Dad squeezed an arm around my shoulder and I softly leaned into his touch.

“Thank God you lost that baby fat,” Mom commented.

“Y/M/N,” Dad said quietly.

“You know it’s true, Y/D/N,” Mom hissed back.

Suddenly, Dad’s arm felt like a boa constrictor, and I gracefully slipped out of its grasp. When the video ended, I drank a fresh flute of champagne. The bubbles instantly went to my head as I giggled at Dean Shetty introducing Marie.

She looked really pretty even though she was nervous.

“Do you know her?” Mom asked over the applause.

“We’re friends,” I replied.

“So why is she a guardian and not you?”

“She was more involved in stopping Luke than me,” I lied.

When Dean Shetty cued everyone to return to socializing, Mom turned to me.

“Your grades are fantastic and your standing in your house is good,” Mom began. “But eligible bachelors will not notice you unless you stand out like her.”

“Y/M/N, leave her alone. Anyone who doesn’t notice Y/N isn’t worthy of being in our family anyway,” Dad defended.

Mom ignored him. “That girl, Marie Moreau, is not your friend, she is your competition. You are in the prime setting to have everything you’ve ever wanted but she could snatch it from you. You’re supposed to be able to see things like this coming, Y/N.”

“I do see things coming and I know Marie wouldn’t do that to me,” I quipped.

At that moment, Mom’s eyes bore so deep into me that I didn’t think that anyone could claw them out. Her eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head at any moment and I could feel my breathing pick up.

“I’m sorry, it just slipped out,” I promised.

It felt like forever until she leaned back in her seat and grabbed her phone.

“Make sure it doesn’t ‘slip out’ again. Now go socialize.”

“I need a minute, Mom, I’ve been socializing since we got here.”

Mom rolled her eyes. “This again.”

“What?”

“Y/M/N, please.”

“No, no, Y/D/N, she is constantly using, what, anxiety to get out of speaking to people. You are always too soft on her and make me look like the bad guy. I’m the one helping her be normal,” Mom snapped. “Anxiety didn’t exist when we were her age, we just did what we had to do, and look where we are now.”

I wondered if Emma ever felt as small as I did in that moment. Then, I wondered if she ever made herself small to hide from people, even her mom. Wordlessly, I left the table and tried to avoid any cameras as the tears burned in the corners of my eyes.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm my trembling chest and keep my throat busy. My chest shifted from trembling to heavy and I started looking around the room.

“I hear one piano…feel two fingers…smell three different alcohols…and see---”

“Y/N, are you okay?” Cate’s voice broke me out of my rhythm and I glanced to see her sitting with Marie and Jordan, who was in their feminine form.

My chest felt much lighter and I quickly wiped away my tears. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit,” Jordan called gently.

Cate pulled me into a hug and had me sit between her and Marie. “What happened?”

“My parents, well, my mom mostly. I guess I got too anxious for her, and she yelled at me,” I rambled.

Cate smiled softly. “Then you came at the perfect time. We were just talking about our horrible parents.”

My ears perked up. “Really?”

“Well, mine are dead,” Marie commented.

I turned to her and placed my hands on top of hers. “What? I’m so sorry. How did it…”

“I accidentally killed them with my powers,” Marie explained.

“That must have been horrible.”

Marie barely nodded and I squeezed her hands. “I just told my little brother to go away during a camping trip. He never came back and my mom pretty much locked me away,” Cate confessed. “I was seven.”

“What?” I whispered.

“I killed my grandpa with my powers,” Jordan interjected.

We all turned to her and I cocked my head to the side.

“No, you didn’t,” Cate countered.

Jordan smiled. “You’re right, I was feeling left out.”

I didn’t think that I could laugh the way I did but it felt so nice. At least I had friends again.

When I started sipping on the whiskey Cate stole, I saw a brief image flash before my eyes. There was a guy with curly brown hair covered in dirt running away from several bloody bodies. He paused for a moment and opened his hand, revealing a tiny sleeping Emma. When the vision left, Andre was standing in front of us.

“Seriously?” I complained before he even spoke.

#black!reader #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #limoreau x reader #marie moreau x reader

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threadbaresweater · 1 month

Text

Summertime (and the livin' is easy)

A multi-fandom collaboration to celebrate warm weather, good vibes, and an exciting milestone!

Welcome, one and all! I'd like to thank everyone for making this such a cozy little space, for following along with me through varied interests and life events, and just really...for being some of the most incredible, talented people I've ever had the joy of knowing. I'd like to invite you to celebrate with me and join in a collaboration of writers and artists alike to commemorate this occasion. I'll outline the rules below and provide you some prompts to get the creative juices flowing.

The theme is summer! Parties, beach outings, swimming, boating, exciting vacations, long drives with the wind in your hair, planting flowers, having barbecues– whatever piques your interest. You're welcome to choose your own prompt or use one of the suggested ones below.

There is no minimum or maximum word count for writers. Be as concise or as detailed as you'd like!

You can choose if it will be sfw or nsfw, but please use appropriate tags/warnings for any subject matter that might be sensitive to some readers.

Does not have to be a romance! Write about going to the beach with your friends or planting flowers with your neighbors.

This is open to all fandoms. I'm a blog that's made up of several different interests, so you're welcome to submit anything.

There's no hard deadline, but I'd like to have all submissions by August 31st so that I can compile a master list. And if for some reason you can't participate or you run out of inspiration, don't feel bad! I understand that life gets in the way sometimes.

I'll compile a preliminary master list to save your spot. Please send me the following: fandom, characters, title (if you have one), and whether it's sfw or nsfw.

You can write or draw multiple entries!

When you do post the final product, please either tag me or send me a link via dm or ask, and I'll add the link to the master list.

You don't have to be a follower, but it would be nice if you were 🙂

Any questions? Please ask! I'd love to help.

Prompt List (these are just generic prompts to use as suggestions/guidelines. Create your own or use any one or combination of them)

the smell of sunscreen

running around barefoot

dancing through the night

fresh fruit

ice cold cocktails

starry nights and stargazing

endless freckles

night swimming

long drives on an empty road

the warmth of the sun on your skin

spending the day at the beach

staying up to watch the sunrise

bonfires

laying in the grass

music festivals

barbecues

Thanks for being here! I admire every single one of you.

#lin's follower milestone

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ayyyez · 1 year

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Can you mayhap do more goshiki and Tsuki headcanons? Maybe first date, first time, first kiss etc

A/N: oh yes more of the side haikyuu boys! sure thing!

TAGS: first kiss, making out, first date, first time mentions and descriptions but not explicit, mentions of foreplay but not explicit, headcanons, Tsukki being a little shit but also a secret simp, Goshiki being a loveable dork who sometimes gets a big head lol, undercut for length

CHARACTERS: Tsukishima Kei, Goshiki Tsutomu

TSUKISHIMA KEI

First and foremost, to date this guy you gotta be able to call him out on his shit because he NEEDS that.

Doesn't matter about personality in regards to being either shy/reserved and preferring to do it in private or being confident/ outspoken and doing it right there when its needed (or any combination of them) AS LONG AS IT HAPPENS! CALL HIM OUT!

It makes Tsukki respect you, listen to you (depends on the situation on whether he follows through on the change lol) and also is what makes him attracted to you in the first place.

See the thing is he wants to be seen so you calling him out leads to banter and banter leads to a familiar rapport and eventually one of you cracking (yes cracking because its a game of how long either of you can last without spilling your feelings!) and confessing.

Definitely a confess -> date -> kiss kinda guy but in saying that these things can totally all happen in the span of a week with him.

Once the balls rolling he moves FAST

Likes chill, casual dates and your first date is no different.

Something like a cafe, a lowkey restaurant to eat or even just going over each others houses for a study date.

Prefers being out of the eyes of the public.

Will also leave the control of the date (in general), including the venue, up to you (with those previous preferences as his contribution).

When it comes to telling you this though he's kind of jerky about it (to a strangers eye anyway) as Tch-ishima makes an appearence.

'Tch, we're just hanging out like usual.' and then will add 'Shouldn't a date be just us two and away from everyone else.' While internally he's just gunning for the date to be at home lol.

It also gives him ample opportunity to go in for that first kiss. Tsukki you sly guy!

Will never admit in a million years.

Feel free to try teasing and asking him about it though!

'So did just bring me back here to try and pull this huh?' Right after a kiss.

He'll just give you one of those smirks and poke your forehead.

'I don't know did I?'

Tries to act indifferent but you see that smirk soften ever so slightly into to a the hint of a real smile.

Psh what a dork. Forever the internal simp.

While he moves fast in terms of the from first date to first kiss scene the first time comes with a bit more time.

He's ever so patient with that kind of thing and doesn't really see the whole point of rushing in unprepared that leads to everyone having an awkward ehem unpleasant time.

Okay so maybe thats a bit of a mild—not fear exactly—it's definitely a bit of a concern though. So he keeps those kisses wanting and makeouts steamy but cuts them off Jussssst~ when they're about to get good.

It's not on purpose he's just got to stay in control ya'know?

He's not letting those floodgates open until you bring it up. Maybe a part of him wants you to beg a little. It's not a must of course! He's just not opposed to it.

This is the part where you can comply or give him a little smack upside the head to reground himself. It gets a smirk either way.

Either way the first time with Tsukki comes when you ask for more and you both agree to finally (your words not his) move forward. Tsukki is the kind of guy who has the patience to wait a lifetime. No qualms.

Once you've got him going though. He's like oh damn. This is something else. Even better than those makeout sessions!

A first time with Tsukki is a more drawn out first time. It's exploratory and sensory with lots of touching and not lots of talking (unless it's from you, it's okay to be a nervous talker - he's just only going to talk when necessary or to respond).

There's definitely communication for needs from him he's just not the type to have a chat during (at least in the first time and early days).

He also has a concentration frown and sometimes he's biting his lip so hard your afraid it's going to break and bleed. It's cute honestly.

Lots of foreplay before the main act. Lots of exploratory touching. There's no jumping in even though it's the first time. He takes his time and his patience can be frustrating at this point if you wanna just GO.

He can get a little teasing here. It's where he probably talks the most. 'Oh raring to go huh? Well lets just take our time.' Little shit lol.

Once you're doing it though he's actually pretty sweet. Making sure you're okay. You're comfortable. Expects the same from you too. It's an act of trust after all.

May confess a sweet thing or two during. Depends on how he's vibing. Feels a bit awkward about it afterwards but won't take it back. Just will tell you to shut up if you tease him about it.

Perfect time to make him blush. Yes he will get you water and help clean each other up and spoon you after if you are into that. It's good manners afterall.

GOSHIKI TSUTOMOU

Goshiki is a little sweetie okay and deserves someone who appreciates and respects him.

However much like Tsukki it's kind of the same where you have to be real with him and tell him when he's getting a too big head sometimes.

Definitely a friendship to lovers vibe or even a you respected me to call me out as an acquaintance then I fell in love with you and chased after you vibe (Goshiki being the chaser lol)

Goshiki is definitely a 'fall in love at first sight' kind of vibe. Like he doesn't actually but he thinks he does. He just gets swept up very easily by people who make a strong impact on him and runs with it.

Him chasing you can go two ways depending on the type of person you are and how you want this sweetie to react.

You could be the type to catch on to his very obvious crush on you. He's not stealthy about it to the point it's likely his whole team knows lmao and whats worse is he THINKS he's so clever, calm and collected about it but he's...the opposite lol.

Using this information you could do you both a favour and just confess to him first. Goshiki will become the most flustered mess you've ever seen.

He'll be bright red, shocked silent until he barely recovers, saying 'Haha of course you wanna date me!' while also internally is like Omg you want to date me!?

But you know him. You've learnt to read the doubt behind his eyes whenever such words leave his lips.

'Yeah I want to date you, so whats your answer?' You reiterate.

This throws him of balance again and he's spluttering because oh yeah this isn't one of his daydreams he has about being the best ace and getting his crush. This actually is his crush asking him out.

'Yes please.' He manages to get out. Ever so polite just as his parents taught him. It takes everything in you to keep your smile composed and not laugh at him. Adorable.

The OTHER WAY this could go if you're not one to ask someone out or if you just want to see what he'll do, is wait. He'll sit on his crush until he just sort of explodes.

It'll take awhile of him running over to you at every opportunity he gets, you can always count on it like clockwork.

Then one day he's not there? Nor the next or the next. You kind of get worried. You see a friend of his wave them over and begin to ask when you FINALLY see Goshiki come over.

he's redder than usual, frown on his face like he'd been....sulking? huh.

Wraps his hand around your wrist. 'Can we go?'

'okay?'

Tugs! Tugs you away somewhere a bit more secluded. Away from prying eyes.

You stand there and scan his expression. Still stuck in a sulky frown. Almost pouting? huh cute.

'Do you-' He stops looking down. 'Will you-' He stops again groaning. 'I'm the ace right?'

'Huh?' Okay major confusion. 'Yeah?'

'So that makes me pretty cool right?'

You frowned, scanning him up and down. Was Goshiki asking if you thought he was cool? With a sulky expression? Something had to be going on.

'Naturally.' You cleared your throat watching him smile. 'Whats going on?'

'Well since I'm the coolest guy you know it's your lucky day since I've got a question for you!'

And with that Goshiki went bright red and stumbled into asking you out in his own awkward, self concious way.

Very sweet when the two of you start dating. Always trying to show off for you and share volleyball with you but also shows that he makes you one of his priorities.

Heckin loves food so loves food dates especially to lowkey restaurants, loves showing off in this regard by showing you nice places but likes to be spoiled too so show him cool places.

A sucker for hand holding. Thinks its peak affection along with cheek kissing.

Takes him awhile to move up with physical affection because he combusts and gets anxious about it and his feelings. He's self concious from various complexes he's developed over time.

You probably have to initiate the first kiss or have to make do with being VERY patient. He's so shy. If you do intiate it be prepared for him being flustered. It's cute.

Making out is a very big deal to transition to as well. You gotta talk him through it. He's all stiff, clattering teeth and noses and forehead bumping at first. Whoops. Its sweet though.

Once he gets though he REALLY gets it! Really gets into it too like this boy is a quick study after all and he just gets the kissing bug. It'll be you who will be like OKAY BABY WE GOTTA COME UP FOR AIR YOU'RE ALL RED AND ABOUT TO PASS OUT.

But he looks~ well if looks could kill~ he's a hot mess you could devour right then and there. All red, flustered, panting? Lips all slick? Love bites on the neck? Hair disheveled? Hello Goshiki where have you been hiding?

First time is much like the first kiss in terms off nerves. He's all stiff and jumpy.

Again, you'll have to talk him through it but it doesn't mean he won't attempt to take initiative. It's a team effort on both fronts. It won't be drawn out though, he's too worked up and nervous.

A lot of bumping into each other and awkward moments but there's also a lot of sweet moments and feeling good.

Lots of communication and awkward mess talking. Lots of kissing and touching. Grab his hair for good moans hehe.

Things are loud with Goshiki. He's vocal, he can't help it. Don't make fun of him though he's sensitive.

He needs aftercare in form of cuddles and pillowtalk. Very clingy after and he's also VERY warm so if you run cold then good news for you! You've now got your own personal heater.

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electraslight · 6 months

Text

people often complain about how Ben seems to have gotten weaker and clumsier from uaf to omniverse, and I get that's an annoying writing decision, but id like to posit a theory.

Ben used to be an athlete, a star one at that, and he used to be a pretty physically fit and healthy guy, visibly being muscular while still having a smaller build. in omniverse, it seems all that muscle is pretty much gone, as he seems to have trouble carrying things, being balanced, and even doing routine workouts that he supposedly regularly did when he was younger. he's even kind of shrunk.

but the thing is: this is proven to extend to his aliens too.

back when Ben was physically fit, wildvine's entire power set was based on grip and strength, using his vines to swing on things or bring enemies or objects closer to him, which required strength.and now he just can't. just like Ben.

which kind of brings us to the question of why Ben is deteriorating in this fashion? he still leads a very active lifestyle, doesn't seem to have any diseases. why's he going so downhill? (the answer to this question writing wise is a different thing, I am trying to rationalize the world he lives in instead of the world the writers do). the answer probably lies in food. in ogs and uaf, Ben had a pretty diverse diet, at least by kid standards. he ate a lot of junk in ogs, but that's just because what else are you gonna eat on a road trip, and as previously stated, af/uaf Ben is an athlete, who seems to actually like a lot of vegetables, eats dinner with his family, only has fast food on patrol. around the time Gwen and Kevin left, though, things changed.

Ben has kind of an obsession with smoothies in omniverse. they're usually the only thing he's seen consuming besides the occasional chili fries, he thinks about them all the time, the comtumellia literally take the form of them. which, yes, flanderization, haha aketchi pancake think blah blah blah, but the thing is, that flanderization kind of recharacterizes his degredation.

Ben had to drop out in uaf, so now his full time job is working for the plumbers, in am environment where everyone expects him to be an ubermensch who never shows a single flaw, and when he messes up in a normal way, he's the stupidest motherfucker alive, even though he's got more experience than anyone combined. plus, he's got to go on patrol all day long, fight a universe ending threat, and then conk out at 3 and wake up at 5 to do it all again. no family dinners, no time to cram an apple in his bag for later, and the only quick easy and cheap thing for him is smoothies. junk food. quick energy boosts. and it seems like he can't stop thinking about them (although I acknowledge what a copout that was lol), can't stop thinking about food. and consuming only liquid processed baby food for all your meals and getting zero hours of sleep isn't good for your body, and the aliens you inhabit are reflections of your person, so you degrade,they degrade, making b grade villains a slog and lifting over 30 pounds even more of one.

not particularly going in an eating disorder direction with this? still tagged it that though just in case. just wanted to share something I don't rlly see people try to come up w an in universe explanation for. I'm personally leaning more toward an ARFID angle, but I'd be interested to see other's takes

#ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 alien force #ben tennyson #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 classic #ben ten #eating disorder #tw ed #tw eating disorder

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writershapeholeonthedoor · 4 months

Text

Take Care

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: Everyone tries to warn Wanda what a bad idea it is to fall in love with the big, bad, scary spy.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language.

READ ON AO3 | MASTERLIST

When Wanda joined the Avengers she was sure she had just walked herself into some type of military team so strict and uptight that she was half expecting their fancy airplane to land in the middle of the desert surrounded by barbed wire and heavily armed men. They were, after all, the main ones responsible for keeping Earth safe from every type of villain that might come to them. Aliens, humans, and anything in between. Their team, formed by a literal God, a super soldier, a man who could turn himself into a green monster, a man whose big ego could barely fit inside his iron suit, and two humans - who, really, were probably better than all the other four combined - should live and breath for training, follow routines and focus on getting better and better every time.

Wanda realized pretty quickly that she had been wrong - very wrong - about her assumption.

Tony Stark was a kid stuck in a man’s body. He could barely keep a serious conversation with anyone and spent most of his time making jokes and provoking his colleagues. Bruce was one of the gentlest souls Wanda ever met - though, admittedly, she hadn’t met many of those during her lifetime - but he was a bit like an erudite and lived inside a lab. Thor assembled Wanda as that overly excited kid who got dropped at the amusement park with too much money. Steve was probably the only one among all of them who took this “hero” job as seriously as they should, though it was a bit wasted on him since he didn’t need to train to keep his shape and he was almost unmatchable. And Clint, well, Clint had so many dad jokes in his pockets that Wanda was as impressed by it as she was by his archery skills.

Less than a month of living with them and Wanda already realized that the men who were the most powerful and skilled people on Earth were just like every other man - but with powers and skills no one else had.

It did wonderful things for her because, for once, she didn’t walk into a military base camp like she thought she was going to when Steve and Clint convinced her to tag along after Sokovia, but also because the grief after losing Pietro was very consuming and it was good to have people around her who made her laugh or roll her eyes. It was good to feel things other than sorrow. She got closer to Steve more than anyone else since he was the calmest of them - centered and sweet - but, after a rough start when Wanda could barely get out of bed, she managed to form a bond with the entire team.

The point is that Wanda was aware that those people sometimes acted like the teenagers she often saw on the sitcoms she used to watch with her family. That, of course, did not prepare her to find out that, above all of that, their team also seemed to be keen on keeping updates to their comrades' private lives. In other words, they were gossipmongers.

“So…” The first one to bring it up had been Thor, surprisingly so because the God of Thunder was spending less and less time around nowadays. “I noticed you have a thing for the widow.”

Wanda was not at all surprised that the team picked up on the little signs that she might have taken a different liking to Natasha - of all people, really, and her heart had decided to beat a bit faster to the woman who could kill on two hundred and God knows how many different ways. There were spies on the team and most of them could, somehow, hear better than everyone else too. Also, they would never have gotten that far in battling the bad guys if they had been oblivious to things around them.

What did surprise her, however, was that someone decided to point it out. To her face. While they were trying to choose the movie for that night - Tony’s idea because he was insisting they should pretend to be some type of dysfunctional family who had movie nights or something like that.

With her eyes wide and heart beating fast inside her chest, Wanda glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone in the communal area where the largest TV known by man was. She could hear Tony and Clint bickering in the kitchen because they both had different ideas of what the night snack should be, and she knew Steve, Natasha and Sam must still be in the training room, so obviously Bruce was in his lab yet probably talking with Vision. Even so, Wanda didn’t look even a bit relaxed when she looked back at Thor.

“What?” She breathed out and then, because the nerves were eating her inside, she let out an awkward chuckle while shaking her head.

Wanda really thought the tall muscular man would let it go. He didn’t, of course. “No need to lie to me, shorty,” he said with a large smile that would’ve been charming if he wasn’t so damn daunting. Wanda also wanted to point out that everyone next to Thor would be short and that she was taller than most, but he didn’t give her a chance. “I can see the way you stare at her.”

Oh, God.

Wanda opened her mouth to try and come up with something to say but there was nothing her brain could use to get out of that situation. She wasn’t surprised people noticed but she was surprised Thor noticed. Because, if he did, so did everyone else. And, God, it was terrifying to have people knowing the things she felt.

She had a very complicated life until that point - and it still was, honestly - and Wanda learned when she was still a kid inside an orphanage that anything people knew about you could be used to hurt you. When Hydra started to make experiments on her, it became even more evident. Wanda proved it herself when she invaded the minds of the same people she now shared a roof with and used their worst memories and fears against them. And, after going through training with Natasha, Clint and Steve, Wanda could immediately panic thinking someone knew her deepest secrets.

Thor must have seen the panic on her face because his teasing smile turned more soft and he actually lowered his voice a bit - not that it would make such a difference since his timbre was so deep. “Hey, I’m not going to judge. Humans have so many rules and what they think is moral or not is based on things I can’t understand.”

It took Wanda a few seconds to understand what he was talking about. Thor thought she was afraid he would have a problem with Wanda having feelings for a woman when, in reality, she was scared that he knew she had feelings at all. If she wasn’t so tense, Wanda would’ve laughed.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk about, though,” Thor kept talking and Wanda was amazed he had a plan on what he wanted to talk with her about. Thor was not the type of guy who planned those things. Still holding the remote in her hand, Wanda waited for him to continue. “Look, Natasha is… very brave.” He made it sound like that was the most important quality someone could have. “And scary.” Wanda raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I mean, she’s a good woman. Very beautiful too.”

Okay, he didn’t have a plan.

Wanda slowly nodded. “Sure,” she mumbled, unsure what else she could say.

“She’s also not the woman who do dating,” Thor finally declared, suddenly looking proud of himself. “If you want, I’m pretty sure she would be down to sex, but take care, okay?” Wanda felt her face heating up in a way it had never done before and her eyes glued to the TV in front of her with renewed interest. There was no way that conversation was real. “If you do the sex, don’t get attached,” he warned her gently. “You might end up getting hurt. So, maybe, the best idea is to not have sex. Unless you want to.”

Wanda thought she wanted to disappear, maybe be swallowed whole by a portal or something that would take her away. She had magic and she certainly could make it happen if she tried hard enough but Wanda felt so shell-shocked that she couldn’t move. “Thor…”

The God interrupted her, though, which was good because Wanda wasn’t sure what she could even say. “I just mean that having feelings for someone like Natasha can be very tricky. But, if you ever get your heart broken and need someone to talk to, just come to find me. Unless I’m in Asgard, of course.”

Thor then used one of his ridiculously big hands to pat her on the back, a friendly gesture, but Wanda almost got thrown out of the couch because of how strong the man was. Wanda grimaced and moved away a few inches so he couldn’t reach her again if he tried, and she was about to finally snap and tell him to mind his own business when Tony and Clint entered the space with several popcorn bowls.

“Where is everyone else?” Tony asked and, just like that, the conversation was over.

Wanda couldn’t say she had forgotten all about it after it happened because it was hard to forget that Thor, the God of Thunder, decided to give her love advice, but she was sure it would never happen again. Sadly, Wanda didn’t have superspeed like Pietro to run away if it ever did but she could think about a few other things to escape if she had to.

That said, she didn’t expect that conversation to happen with someone else instead on the very next day. And with Tony of all people.

He had called her inside his lab to help him make some tests on his suit - he was trying to make it strong enough to support Wanda’s magic - and then allowed Wanda to use one of the robotic arms to blow one of the training dummies. Wanda had laughed after that, feeling like a kid playing with things she wasn’t supposed to, before telling him she still preferred the red flow that came from her own hand and giving him the suit piece back.

“Yes, not all of us can shoot explosive balls from our palms,” Tony replied with a scoff while pulling away his things.

“No need to be so jealous,” Wanda taunted him. They walked a long way until Wanda felt comfortable enough around the man and it took a little more time to be able to joke around him, but Tony had a place inside her heart as well.

“Jealous, honey?” Tony teased her back, taking a look at her from over his glasses. “I invented a thing that is pretty much the same you can do.”

“Well, yes,” she conceded before turning one of her palms up and letting a small red ball form just above it. “But you have to carry that suit everywhere.”

Tony sighed and didn’t argue back, which made Wanda smile and put her hands back inside her back pockets. She was about to ask him if he needed help with anything else since she had planned on going out with Vision to show him the ducks by the lake when Tony started talking before her.

“So, you wanna do funny business at workspace, huh?” Wanda had no idea what he just said and just kept staring at him with a blank expression on her face. Upon hearing nothing from her, Tony looked up from where he was typing on the computer and rolled his eyes impatiently. “You know, knock boots.” Tony kept looking, Wanda kept staring, and it became clear she was still lost. He sighed and started waving a hand while he came up with other things to say. “Have some horizontal refreshment, get down and dirty, shake the sheets, practice the act of darkness, have some adult naptime, make an assault with a friendly weapon, do the Devil’s dance, feed the kitty, hit a home run, join amorous congress - Steve would like that one - go cave diving.” Wanda felt like the man had just thrown a bunch of words that had no meaning at her and expected the girl to form a sentence. Tony groaned and his head dropped for a moment before he looked up at her again and declared: “Sex, Maximoff. I’m talking about sex.”

Wanda’s eyes widened, her cheeks became as red as the magic that winded around her fingers, and she took a step back out of shock. Yes, that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with Tony Stark of all people. In fact, Wanda would rather stay still as he blasted her with his Iron Man suit instead of having that particular conversation.

Though, as usual, it could get much worse.

“Let me tell you this, you could have chosen someone better to want to do the fun thing,” Tony huffed and shook his head, although he looked quite impressed. “That’s some dangerous place you want to hide your hot dog at.” Wanda wondered if anyone had ever passed out for blushing too hard because she felt a second away from doing it. “Well, guess that’s not the best euphemism for you. Let me think for a second.”

“You don’t need to,” Wanda murmured mostly to herself since, obviously, Tony didn’t pay her any mind.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” Tony called out and Wanda watched with her eyes still wide as the artificial intelligence came to life to wait for what its creator wanted. “Can you tell me some euphemisms for lesbian sex?”

“Of course, Mister Stark,” the robot replied and Wanda reacted before it could get completely out of hand.

“Okay, I’m out of here.” Wanda turned around to walk to the door, eager to escape and be anywhere other than there.

She still heard F.R.I.D.A.Y. declaring: “Play rock, paper, scissors with only the scissors.”

“Come down, kiddo,” Tony called out after her. “I’m just trying to help!” Wanda opened the door and took a step out, ready to flee - run if she had to. “Romanoff is a very dangerous place to try to get funny, especially if you are totally smitten by her.”

Wanda glared at him in surprise. She wondered if Thor said something or if Tony also couldn’t keep his own business - and she knew the answer to that. “Tony, please, don’t ever talk to me again,” she pleaded because, honestly, she would never recover from the conversation they just had.

Tony laughed, though, and gave her a playful wink. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone that you’re head over heels for our most dangerous, and hot, spy.”

“Bye, Tony.”

“Just saying that, if you want to love her with all your heart and soul, you should know Natasha is all about afternoon delights and nothing else.”

Wanda could only pray no one heard the man’s raised voice while she walked away. Thankfully, Tony didn’t follow her but Wanda didn’t go find Vision right away. She needed a few minutes to get over the fact that another person from their team decided to step out of their way to give Wanda a warning about Natasha Romanoff. Gosh, that was a bit humiliating.

However, Tony hadn’t been the first and wouldn’t be the last either, something that made Wanda want to go back to the rubbles of Sokovia. It felt like a better alternative than having her feelings rubbed into her face like they were public domain.

It was definitely better than having that conversation with Bruce Banner for sure.

“I guess I should give you my condolences,” Bruce said out of nowhere about a week after her weird conversation with Tony.

Half of the team was away on some type of mission, to which Wanda and Bruce hadn’t been needed, and both of them had ended up inside the man’s lab while he worked on something while Wanda read a book. She could’ve gone to the back of the Avengers’ compound where she could sit under a tree and enjoy the breeze, but Bruce was interested in some of the Hydra’s experiments and she decided to tag along with him in case he had any questions she could answer. Bruce and her weren’t that close, though they didn’t have problems with each other.

Wanda looked up from her book with a frown. “For what?” She asked. Pietro had died a while ago and Bruce had said he was sorry about it as soon as they landed after it happened, even going as far as giving her a gentle hug and a sad smile.

Bruce’s dark eyes glanced at her in sympathy, though he didn’t stop mixing whatever he was mixing inside a vial. “For falling in love with Natasha Romanoff,” he explained and, above all, he actually sounded sorry for her. “We should start a club for unrequited love or something.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose comically as her jaw dropped in surprise. She had seen inside both Natasha’s and Bruce’s heads and she knew that it had happened, however, they never spoke about it and, as far as Wanda knew, they both preferred to pretend it never happened. So, to have the man address the fact that he had feelings for Natasha at some point in time was a bit disturbing. Especially because, yes, Wanda knew about it too and, all people considered, she was the one who tried the hardest to pretend she didn’t.

It was none of her business, to start with, but to think about it made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

And now Bruce Banner wanted to talk with Wanda as if they had both been cursed by some terrible catastrophe.

Which, Wanda supposed, was understandable yet extremely unfair.

“Surprised I know?” Bruce asked with a hint of humor.

“I’m starting to think the entire world has been watching me,” Wanda groaned as she closed her book but her voice was too low for Bruce to hear it.

“I too once looked at Natasha as if we could have a future together, just like you do now,” Bruce kept talking and, despite the harsh words, he didn’t sound like a jerk while saying it. It was probably his gentle nature saving him. “And that’s the problem, you know? Natasha doesn’t think she deserves to have a future, so she won’t even try to build one,” Bruce sighed and looked back at the vial. “We have that in common. Neither of us thinks we can have what Tony found with Pepper, or build something like Clint has.”

Bruce was fine talking about Natasha but he wasn’t comfortable looking at Wanda while he spoke about himself. The girl felt some rush of anger inside her and she bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying all the things that ran inside her mind at that moment. She knew Bruce meant well in the end.

“Maybe you’re both too harsh on yourselves,” Wanda pointed out softly.

When Bruce looked at her, it was pretty clear he couldn’t disagree more with what she just said but, maybe to take the spotlight away from him, he nodded. “Perhaps,” he said with a shrug. “I just wanted to warn you. You’re still young and I’m sure one-sided love won’t take you down. Just take care of yourself, okay? Don’t dream too much, keep your feet on the ground.”

It was the most direct way of saying “don’t be in love with Natasha Romanoff” without actually saying it.

Wanda didn’t reply - mostly because that’s not how feelings work, after all - and Bruce dropped the subject right after that. Wanda waited a few more minutes out of respect before excusing herself from his lab, taking her book with her, and that had been it. She would do a lot of things to prevent herself from having that conversation with Bruce again because the last thing she wanted was to hear the man talk about a time when he and Natasha talked about running away together - even if it never happened or if neither of them actually meant it.

The rest of the team returned by the end of the night and Wanda found a seat as far away from Bruce as she could manage when Tony declared they should watch a movie together. Turns out that Wanda realized she would rather hear Tony Stark come up with a thousand different ways to address sex than talk about feelings with Bruce Banner. Who would’ve guessed?

After that, Wanda got a break from the entire “let’s talk about your feelings” thing. Wanda left to join a mission with Steve and Vision, then it was time for Steve to leave with Clint and Natasha for something else. It was some nice good two weeks of not having to talk about how bad she was at hiding her crushes but it didn’t last forever, obviously.

“Hey, Red,” Clint said as soon as he was done eating after returning from his mission. It all went well enough that no one had a bruise or a more serious wound but Clint still had enough adrenaline rushing through his veins that he assured everyone he didn’t want to take a rest like Natasha and Steve wanted to. “You and me, training room. You game?”

It was hard to understand Clint at first when she first met him. Wanda’s first language wasn’t English and it could be hard to keep up when he wasn’t saying all the words. She always thought he would get along with Pietro just fine because of that. As time went by, and the more Wanda had English and accent classes with Natasha, it became easier to follow along, though.

So, she simply nodded and followed him to the training room after changing into something more comfortable. Natasha and Steve had been the ones to give her hand-to-hand combat training when she first joined the team but Wanda now sparred with everyone else since she proved she wouldn’t get herself killed accidentally. Clint was already inside waiting for her and they soon got on the training mattress. Clint wasn’t as good as Natasha but he was still better than Wanda, even more so since she wasn’t allowed to use her powers inside the room, and she quickly started to get her ass kicked.

“You’re still not that good at the whole kicking butt thing,” Clint teased her as he reached out with a hand for her to take it.

She grabbed it and got up with a groan when her muscles protested. “I could throw you across the street with a flick of my finger,” Wanda argued.

Clint simply laughed. “Yeah, right. Come on, try again.”

By the seventh time Wanda landed on the matt, Clint was starting to get tired finally and didn’t try to get her to get up. Wanda lay there, sweaty and out of breath, arms open and staring at the ceiling while cursing herself for never being able to keep up with him. Clint was drinking some water, staring down at her with a smug grin, and Wanda was waiting for him to tease her about it too.

He went to another approach, though. “You know, I thought you would’ve learned more things about it since Natasha was the one teaching you. Thought you would want to impress her or something.”

Wanda groaned because, by now, she knew what was about to happen and she wasn’t thrilled by it. “Not you too,” she complained.

Clint’s smirk told her he had heard her but he didn’t ask any questions about it. “Lemme tell ya,” he paused and pointed at the girl laying on her back, “Natasha would not be impressed.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and grunted as she set down so she wouldn’t feel so damn vulnerable. “You shouldn’t gloat. It’s bad luck.”

The man laughed even harder at that. “Right. Keep that in mind if you ever manage to fulfill your wildest dream to get Natasha to pin you down in a more fun way.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Wanda replied and used one hand to prop herself up. She got to her feet and glared at him. “Do you still want to fight or can I go take a shower?”

“You wish you could share a shower with-”

“Bye, Clint,” Wanda interrupted him so abruptly that he just laughed while she walked away.

Wanda was out of the door before he could say anything else but she had just stepped into the hallway when she walked right against a wall. Well, not a wall, she noticed when she looked up after letting out a small squeak. Steve Rogers.

“Oh, hi, Steve,” she greeted him. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” Steve assured her with his sweet smile. “I also wasn’t looking. Are you done training?”

“Yes. Clint is trying to be funny.” Wanda rolled her eyes and heard his deep chuckle. “I thought you were resting.”

“I was but I’m kind of hungry now. Do you want to join me in the kitchen?”

“Yes. You and cap should have a tea party,” Clint said as he walked out of the room as well, not even trying to not hit her with his shoulder.

Wanda frowned and glared at him but the man simply laughed and walked away. Seriously, it was like sharing a house with a bunch of kids.

“I do make some pretty good tea,” Steve commented while giving her a little smile.

And Wanda was hooked.

She went down to the kitchen area with him, happily listening to him tell her about the mission and how it went. Wanda sat on one of the high stools, putting both of her elbows on the kitchen island and her hands clasped together while she watched Steve move around at ease to put some water on the kettle. He then walked to the fridge to find some leftovers he could warm up and Wanda couldn’t help but smile at the scene. A super soldier making some tea and eating old spaghetti.

“How were things while we were gone?” Steve asked after leaning back against the counter so he could eat and look at her at the same time.

“Normal,” Wanda replied, even though nothing had been very normal since the entire team decided to watch her every move because they thought it was so fun to see her little crush on Natasha. “Tony tried to make another movie night and was mad when Bruce fell asleep in the middle of what he called the best movie ever made.”

“Yes, sounds normal.” Steve rolled his eyes although the smile on his lips was fond. “Did you train with someone?”

Wanda shook her head. Ever since her training got less rigid - it happened after Natasha declared she was better in her combat skills enough to hold her own against their usual share of villains and after Steve was confident she could run without having a heart attack - Wanda didn’t go to the training room every day anymore. She liked to run in the mornings because it felt nice to clear her mind for the usual two miles she took and she enjoyed sparring sometimes just to learn some new move she might have missed before, but that was it. She relied a lot on her magic and Wanda was truly fine with it even if she knew Natasha would rather otherwise.

Steve too, though luckily he didn’t give her another long speech about the importance of training. “Well, I’m back now. We could train tomorrow morning.”

Wanda grimaced despite her best tries not to. “Sure,” she replied however because, well, she was a part of the team and people had to trust her. The man seemed amused by that, at least. “Maybe we could do that pair thing again,” Wanda suggested mainly because it was more fun to be paired up with someone while both of you tried to take down the other duo.

“I doubt Clint will be up before noon,” Steve said and finally put the now empty container down on the counter. The water was warm enough by now and he moved to grab two cups from the top cabinet - where Wanda could reach but where Natasha couldn’t, much to her disdain. “You want some too, yes?”

Wanda nodded in agreement. “We could ask Nat and Tony to join us, maybe.” Tony hated those sparring things but Wanda still wanted to make him suffer after making her painfully listen to him talk about sex.

Steve put one of the mugs in front of her, placed his palm on the marble and took a sip of his drink while looking at Wanda with amusement in his eyes. He waited until she drank some of it, watched her small grimace, and then chuckled when he pushed the sugar toward her. Wanda grabbed a cube and dropped it on the hot liquid before taking a spoon to swirl it.

“I once knew someone who put four sugar cubes in her tea,” Steve told her, grabbing her attention again.

Wanda’s eyes moved up when she noticed how much his voice had changed when he said that. Steve’s tone was something between longing and heartache, and his face showed something similar by the way his smile lost all strength. Wanda knew who he was thinking about. She had been inside his head once, she saw the woman’s face, and she felt his sorrow for the life that could have been.

It still took her breath away sometimes because Steve had loved that woman so dearly and then someone decided to transform him into a deadly weapon for the military and he lost it.

Since she didn’t know what to say - and because there was nothing she could come up with that would be truly helpful - Wanda reached out and placed her hand on top of his on the counter, squeezing his fingers tightly. Steve seemed surprised by it but he quickly offered her a small smile and squeezed her hand back.

“Love is a funny thing,” he whispered after a few seconds where he was probably debating with himself if he should keep talking or not. “It can give you the drive to be better, to do better, to fight more, to keep going. But it can also take away all of that,” Steve sighed, looked into her eyes, and tilted his head a little. “It can be a blessing and it can be a curse.”

“I know that,” Wanda replied carefully. “I thought I would never be able to smile again when I lost Pietro.” And there were still days where it was hard, where it was impossible to smile or eat or get out of bed or be reminded that she was still alive and her twin brother wasn’t. But there were days when she would be hit by the sudden wish to live for both of them, to try every milkshake and go to every beach and watch every movie. “I know they’re different situations, but I understand.”

“I know you do,” Steve smiled sadly. “You went through a lot already. More than most people would even be able to take.”

Wanda said nothing because she learned very soon that life wasn’t a competition of who had a more traumatic past, especially when she was part of a team where no one had an easy path to where they currently were. No one there had an easy life.

“Like I said,” Steve kept talking after he realized Wanda wasn’t going to say anything, “love can heal and it can hurt.”

“Steve,” Wanda smiled at him, “if you have something to say, just say it.”

He had the decency to look embarrassed and he averted his eyes for a moment, cheeks flushed and lips curled at the corners. “That was it,” Steve said eventually with a shrug. “That was all I had to say. Love can heal and it can hurt,” he repeated while taking the mug to his mouth again. “We need to be careful about it.”

After saying that, he took a sip of his tea and Wanda copied his movement just to keep herself busy for a while longer. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“It’s not my business, I know,” Steve admitted. “I just worry.”

“That I will break down and screw the team over if Natasha wants nothing to do with me and tells me to shove my feelings somewhere else?” Wanda asked without beating around the bush like Steve was. It was better when people were more direct about it, she decided.

The old man, though, grimaced and pursed his lips. “You’re spending too much time with Tony.”

“You should hear some of the things he said,” Wanda huffed but didn’t explain what she meant.

“I just worry, that’s all,” Steve said. “You went through a lot and… and some people might not be able to know how to deal with it.”

Wanda put her cup down. “That’s what every girl wants to hear, I suppose.”

His eyes went wide open after that. “No, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean like-”

“That’s okay, Steve,” she stopped him and slid out of her seat to go wash the mug on the sink.

“Let me.” Steve approached her to stop Wanda from reaching for the soap. He offered her a smile when she glanced up at him.

She could’ve argued if he hadn’t decided to join the large list of people trying to get their noses on her business. Instead, she let him take the sponge and the mug, thanked him for the tea, and left the kitchen. As she walked to the elevator, Wanda couldn’t help but wonder just how easily people could read her. It appeared like everyone living under the same roof as her could read her like an open book. It was very unsettling, to say the least. She wasn’t a spy like Clint or Natasha but Wanda was sure she should be better at keeping things inside if she wanted to join their hero thing club.

Wanda asked the artificial intelligence to take her to her floor and, seconds before, she was walking down the hallway on the floor she shared with Natasha. It was an entire floor just for them since they were the only women on the team but they barely ever used the small kitchen or the living room area. Wanda remembered being new to the team and seeing Natasha walking that corridor all sweaty after a training session, how her mouth felt dry and how her heart beat fast. She wondered if any of the people who had spoken with her before knew about that.

Tony and Clint would never let her live it down, Bruce might try to form some type of connection with her, Thor would probably give her a high five or something, and Steve would blush for days. How any of those men managed to be superheroes was beyond her.

Wanda sighed as she pushed the door open and then closed it behind her after she walked inside the room. She kicked off her shoes out of habit while debating with herself if she should jump into the shower already or rest for a couple of minutes, though that became an easy decision when her eyes landed on the bed. Wanda fluffed her pillow before her hand found a shoulder to gently push against.

She heard an unhappy groan that made her smile before the body on the bed turned around so Wanda was staring at the muscular back. There was a bruise and a small cut there, probably a memoir from the last mission, and she made a mental note to rub some healing ointment later. With another sigh, Wanda slipped under the covers, wrapping her arms around a slim waist and pressing her body against another one in a big spoon position she knew so well. Her nose immediately found the back of a neck between red locks and she took a deep breath in even if she knew there wouldn’t be any perfume to smell - people remember smells, she had been told once, and the goal is to go unnoticed.

“Where were you?”

Wanda smiled at the husky tone caused by drowsiness. “Your friends were either trying to kick my ass or to give me a shovel talk in reverse.” Tony had taught her what ‘shovel talk’ meant when he was telling a story once and Wanda was proud to finally be able to use it in a conversation. There were many American slang she was still learning about.

“Do I want to know?”

“Maybe later, after you had enough rest. You just came back,” Wanda said and then pressed her lips between shoulder blades.

That made Natasha sigh and grab Wanda’s hand that was resting on her stomach. The redhead pulled her closer, impossibly closer. “I’m awake now. Tell me about it.”

Wanda hesitated for a moment because she really wanted the other woman to be able to rest after returning from a mission but she also knew Natasha wouldn’t drop the subject. “Well, it appears that the entire team seems to think I have a crush on you.”

Natasha’s body shook with a chuckle against her. “Where on Earth did they take that idea from?” She joked while pushing herself back against Wanda’s body.

“I guess I’m an open book or something. Everyone has accused me of being in love with you or wanting to sleep with you.”

“They must be insane,” Natasha replied with a smile clear in her voice.

“They think I’m the insane one,” Wanda huffed a laugh and was about to tell the woman to go to sleep again when Natasha started to move. She removed her arm from around the redhead and patiently waited until Natasha turned around to face her, putting a space between them to be able to talk.

“How come?” Natasha wondered. “Please, don’t tell me these people think I’m literally a black widow or something.” She rolled her eyes at that because she could see it happening way too easily.

Wanda laughed. “No, but they do think you’re going to let me down gently. Or not so gently, I suppose. Bruce is pretty sure you’re going to break my heart in a million pieces, Steve thinks I’m too fragile to handle you, and Tony thinks it’s very likely that you would use me for sex and throw me in the gutter.”

Green eyes closed, which made Wanda pout a little because she loved staring at them. “Are any of them wrong?”

There it was. The self-doubting thing returning full force. They had talked about it many times before and Wanda never liked hearing Natasha put herself short. Bruce had made her a bit nauseous but he hadn’t lied about what Natasha thought of herself and her future. Wanda had only a few months to try to make Natasha see that she was allowed to be happy, that she deserved to be happy, that she shouldn’t punish herself for her past, but it was months against a lifetime of beliefs. Wanda knew she still had a long way before her words started making sense to the other woman.

“All of them, actually,” Wanda pointed out. “They didn’t even think you would ever spare me a look.”

“They’re stupid then. You’re a very nice thing to look at,” Natasha teased with a smile and cracked one eye open, which made Wanda chuckle and lean closer to kiss her nose, before she closed it again.

“We agree your friends lack some sense.”

“They’re your friends. For me, they’re coworkers.”

Wanda scoffed loudly at that. “No one believes that. You have a soft spot for them.”

Natasha sighed. “Just because they can’t figure out how to keep themselves alive without me having to save their asses all the fucking time.”

“Well, whatever is the reason,” Wanda said even if she knew Nat wasn’t serious, “they certainly aren’t my friends. They keep telling me to stop looking at you like you hung the stars or something like that. It didn’t make sense when Tony said it.”

“Maybe they tell you that because they’re your friends and because they care,” the redhead commented and opened her eyes again. “They don’t want to see you hurt. They care about you.”

Wanda didn’t have anything to say about that. She was a part of the team for a while now but it felt different to know those people cared for her, that they liked her, that they wanted her around. It was a strange feeling the whole ‘being wanted’ thing. Pietro used to be the only one to make her feel like that and it was hard to feel anything remotely like that ever since he was gone.

“They act like a gossip magazine,” Wanda said instead.

“They do, don’t they?” Natasha chuckled and silence fell around them for a few moments. Wanda was starting to feel sleep wanting to creep in and she knew she had to get up to take a shower before allowing herself to sleep but she felt so comfortable that it was impossible to move. She was about to ask Natasha to roll over again so they could sleep when the woman started talking. “And they think I don’t deserve you. That’s why they keep warning you to stay away.”

“No one warned me to stay away,” Wanda corrected her gently.

“They did and you should.” Natasha bit her bottom lip, looking too much like she was trying not to get emotional at that moment. “I’m broken. All sharp ends and hard edges. You’re soft, you can bruise and bleed.”

“Natasha, with all due respect, I spent the last few weeks hearing our friends try to say how I should or should not feel, sticking their noses in my business and basically saying I was too naive to make my own decisions.” Wanda paused to look deep into Natasha’s eyes. “I won’t hear it from you too. Not after I set there in silence and listened to them talk because they have no idea that you would be laying here in bed waiting for me to join you after you returned from a trip. We agreed not to tell them a thing, I get it, but you can’t agree with them in something like this. Not when you’re living this with me.”

Natasha’s green eyes filled with tears that never fell before she tilted her chin up to kiss Wanda’s forehead. Her lips lingered against her skin for a few seconds until they formed words. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Wanda whispered back.

“And I’m sorry we hadn’t told them yet,” the redhead added.

They talked about it before - about safety, about how it was better if no one else knew, about how keeping them under wraps was better so no bad guy could use it against them - and Wanda now had more arguments to validate that decision. It would be great to see their reactions to find out how wrong they had been but it was also good to know they could keep living their lives without having them trying to get a say about everything. They all meant well, she knew that, though it was hard to remember that sometimes.

“It’s for the best,” Wanda declared with a shrug.

“Suppose it is. I mean, they all think I’m one step away from breaking your heart.”

“They only think that because I’m too soft,” Wanda told her when she noticed the slight pain in the woman’s voice again. “It’s me, not you.”

“You need to stop talking with Tony,” Natasha scoffed before she started to turn around again, apparently tired of the conversation.

“You just wait until I tell them that you bring me flowers sometimes,” Wanda teased her as she wrapped her arm around Natasha’s waist one more time.

“Don’t you dare,” the spy argued fervently. “I have a reputation to keep.”

“And you’re doing a great job at that because everyone thinks you would use a flower to poke my eye or something.” Wanda chuckled at the thought. “Oh, they will never believe it when I tell them about you taking care of me after a nightmare.”

“I’m warning you, Maximoff.”

“And that you rub my feet every time you kick my ass at training.”

“I’m starting to feel like kicking your ass right now,” Natasha groaned.

Wanda just smiled. “How violent. Maybe they’re right and I should take care.”

“Yes, I’m dangerous.”

As she said that, Natasha hugged Wanda’s arm between her breasts to kiss the back of her hand and Wanda thought how lucky she was to be sharing a bed with the big, bad, scary spy.

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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Howdy, so I don't know if you have seen The Last of Us, but if you have, you know the scene where Joel saves Ellie from the hospital and he just ploughs through everyone and its like wow -///-

I just think it would be a really cool like drabble if this was a Din x reader fic? Only if you wanted to write it though!! Also I'm so happy that I'm on your taglist for inevitable because I jump to read it every time that I see that I've been tagged, it has me in a chokehold and the way that you write the reader is so damn good.

Your writing is something that brings comfort to me every week, and the way you interact and talk to your followers is so sweet. I love coming back from a stressful day to sit down somewhere comfortable to enjoy your work.

Anyways thanks for reading this ramble of an ask and I hope that you're doing well :)

[a/n]: combining some stuff here! this is for the anon who asked for this scene AND for @cockscombkingdom who asked for a fic in Din's POV where he takes care of reader and keeps her safe. I started with the plan to make this very sweet and fluffy and I'm not gonna lie a little darkness seeped into it. my bad.

also in case it isn't abundantly clear i am a joel miller apologist thx

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, injuries, mild dark!din (if you squint and/or have a problem with murder)

Word Count: 1,440

Summary: You were selfless. You gave and you gave and you gave. The universe planned to only take more, but Din Djarin would be damned if he let it.

LOOK FOR THE LIGHT

"you'd just come after her." -Joel Miller (TLOU)

Din was worried about you. He was always worried about you because you were always on his mind. It couldn’t be helped. Somebody had to because it seemed like you were perpetually too worried about everyone else. Din admired that about you. He always had. You went out of your way to help anyone and everyone who approached. You had a heart that was always willing to give, and it left you too little to use for yourself.

When the two of you first began traveling together, he noticed that about you. Sometimes you’d get so preoccupied watching Grogu you’d forget to eat. Peli had once put you to work, organizing her tools as part of the payment to fix the Razor Crest, and you had been so focused on getting the work done well that you had taken no breaks and ended up dehydrated and weak under Tatooine’s hot suns. It’s why the mission he was delivering you to made such simple sense to him. You were special, is what you told him. Din knew you were special, felt it, but it was for very different reasons. According to you, there was something in your blood, some type of cell, that could cure a lot of people of some terrible, terrible disease spreading through a world in the Outer Rim.

Din tried to keep his distance from you. Tried to not get attached. But you were so selfless, that it naturally brought out his protective side. He couldn't help but care for you, but caring for you as a responsibility had quickly turned to loving you along the way. Din didn’t know a lot about love. Didn’t have much experience with it, lust was easier to grasp, and that left him confused most of the time. Din had no idea how to express what he felt for you, how to explain it in words, so he did the only thing he could do. Din took care of you. Kept you safe when he stopped to pick up quarries, made sure you remembered to eat and drink water, reminded you to go to bed and when you would eventually forget anyways he’d carry you there himself. Din didn't know what love was supposed to feel like, but what he did know was that being without you made his heart physically ache and protecting you brought him happiness.

Maybe that’s all he needed to know.

‘It’ll be okay.’ You had promised him with a smile that made your features glow. ‘Shouldn’t take long.’

That had been hours ago. Din delivered you to the medical facility as he had been hired, but when you hadn’t come back out he sought after you. It’s why he now sat in a small room, Imperials flanking the door, as he simmered in disdain. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

“Mandalorian.” A man stepped into the room. A doctor from the looks of it with thin, round rimmed glasses. The name ‘Pershing’ pinned to his lapel. Din stayed silent. “I was under the impression that you had been paid. Was there an issue?”

“No.” Din replied. “Where is she?”

Dr. Pershing paused and shook his head as if confused. Din tilted his head a bit, an obvious threat in body language, and the doctor was smart enough to realize this. He nervously cleared his throat. “She is being prepared for her operation.” Din narrowed his eyes in confusion. You told him they’d just need your blood. “There is no reason for you to stay.”

“I promised her a ride back.”

There was a tense silence that filled the room at his words. Din watched the doctor squirm where he stood and he needed no further clarification. He shoved up from the table, prepared for a fight, when the Imperials leveled their own weapons at him before he could reach his blaster.

Dr. Pershing held his hands up in a placating manner. “She will be a hero. After we drain her of all her blood, we can make a cure. There’s a 65% chance this will work and save the people of this world.” Din was fuming under his armor. Drain your blood? They were going to kill you. They were going to kill you for something that only had a 65% chance of even working. “She will not be in pain! She’s been put under! She will not feel a thing, and we did not scare her with the news.” Din staggered back as if he had been physically hit. Was this man saying… Dr. Pershing confirmed Din’s thoughts. “We did not tell her this would kill her. We spared her that misery. She went under anesthesia peacefully.”

The words echoed in Din’s head loudly. As if a bomb had gone off right beside him and left him deaf and blind. He walked on autopilot as the Imperials escorted him through the building toward the exit. They were going to kill you. They were going to kill you for a shot in the dark cure. Din was literally paces to the door when his boots stilled. The Imperials shoved him, tried to get him to move, threatened to shoot him, and then Din snapped.

With the practiced precision of a bounty hunter and Mandalorian who spent most of his life in a fight, Din spun and cut down the Imperials in one swift movement. The darksaber glowed angry in his hands, casting threatening shadows down the hall. Never before had the sword worked so well for him, but as Din marched through the facility it was practically an extension of himself. Blaster fire pinged off his beskar and he did not hesitate. If a person stepped into his path he eliminated them. Cold. Ruthless. A predator. Din stalked the medical facility searching for you, and he left a wake of death and destruction in his path.

When he finally caught sight of you, through a window into some kind of clean room. Din felt his heart flutter in his chest. The first twinge of emotion since starting this rampage. It was a reminder of why he was doing this. A reminder that his actions were necessary.

Din stormed into the room, his eyes not leaving your unconscious form as you laid on a table in a hospital gown. The staff in the room panicked in a flurry, and one of them⏤ maybe the doctor maybe a nurse, Din didn’t even register who the kriff it was⏤ rushed him in a poor attempt to stop this onslaught. Din cut them down without blinking. Without taking his eyes off of you. The second you were in his arms, Din felt marginally settled. He wasn’t going to lose you, couldn’t lose you. Din had sworn to himself that he’d take care of you, it was all he knew how to do, and he wasn’t going to stop for the sake of anyone.

Not even the sake of a world.

As Din carried you out of the building it occurred to him that he may be dooming an entire population of people. This world’s chances of survival were dropping from 65% to 0%. He knew that he should care. He knew that this information should bother him. That it should make his steps more hesitant and make his chest ache in indecision, but it didn’t. His choice had never been more clear to him. It was either this world or you. Din was choosing you. He’d always choose you.

When back on the ship, Din had only carried you a few steps when gasping could be heard. He turned around to see Dr. Pershing at the end of the ramp holding a blaster at him. The man was breathing hard, face red, as if he had sprinted all the way here to stop this from happening. Din had to admire his dedication. The man believed in this cause so much he was willing to go head to head with a Mandalorian who had just single handedly cleared out a medical facility.

“I can’t let you do this.” Dr. Pershing snapped. “You’re dooming this world if you take her!”

A blaster fired. Dr. Pershing stumbled back, a hole in his chest, and Din held his blaster firm in his hand. Your legs draped over that arm had hidden his weapon well. A strangled gasp left the man’s lips and he collapsed into a motionless pile. Din shook his head, responding to a dead man’s words, “I don’t care.”

Din would protect you under any and all circumstances.

Was that love?

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #dark!din djarin #sort of #if you squint #the last of us #joel miller inspired #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #female reader #reader insert

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