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Take The Long Way Home - Kapitel 3

Kapitel 3: You're My Mate Rating: M Genre: bandfic, drama, friendship, romance, adult life, having kids, 50plus Länge: 3/13 Kapitel Inhalt: Als Dies Freundin mit ihm schlussmacht, droht er durch eine einzige von Verzweiflung geprägte Tat alles zu verlieren, inklusive seiner Freiheit. Es ist purer Zufall, dass ihr Bandleader zur richtigen Zeit an der richtigen Stelle ist, um ihm auf die Beine zu helfen. Einfach weil er es kann und Die es braucht. Denn Taten sind in einem gewissen Alter nicht mehr motiviert von Leidenschaft. Richtig? Hier sind Die und Kaoru in dem Alter, wo man bereits gelebt hat. Wo man schon viel erlebt hat. Wo man Dinge bei Weitem nicht mehr heiß kocht. Wo man elterliche Sorgen hat. Wo man Sachen erledigt, weil sie getan werden müssen. Wo man sich selbst vergisst. Wo man manchmal aber auch von Erinnerung geweckt werden kann. Wo man plötzlich doch noch überrascht wird. Wo es noch immer tiefe Geheimnisse zu lüften gilt. Besonders bei Kaoru. Status: Beendet.

Kapitel 3: You’re My Mate

Als Die am nächsten Morgen wach wurde, war ihm zwar sofort klar, dass er weder im eigenen Zimmer noch im eigenen Bett lag, doch fühlte er sich gar nicht so miserabel wie noch am Tag zuvor. Zumindest körperlich war er ausgeruhter als erwartet und der Blick auf die Uhr verriet ihm, dass er für seine persönlichen Verhältnisse lange geschlafen hatte. Anscheinend hatte er das gebraucht.

Natürlich füllte sich sein Bauch sofort wieder mit dem unangenehmen Gefühl seiner Schwierigkeiten in Anbetracht seiner Situation und dem schmerzenden Verlust seiner Beziehung. Das schien nun ein ständiger Begleiter, doch trotz dessen checkte er tapfer sein Handy, um zum einen erneut festzustellen, dass Alice ihm nicht geschrieben hatte. Zum anderen hatte sich seine Mailbox mit Nachrichten vom Management und der Plattenfirma gefüllt, allen voran deren CEO. Tomioka war unterm Strich ziemlich cool, obwohl Die so verkackt hatte, aber wer wusste auch, wie man mit Schwierigkeiten umging, wenn nicht Dynamite Tommy höchstpersönlich? Er forderte Die nur auf sich zu melden und dass er bei Kaoru unterkam, hatte sich wohl schon unter den anderen herumgesprochen. Dort sollte er am besten auch bleiben und keinen Ärger machen, solange wie man sich seiner Sache verkehrsrechtlich annahm. Auch seine Bandkollegen hatten ihm getextet und fragten nach ihm, wünschten gute Besserung und alles Gute. Es war okay für die Umstände und machte fast, dass Die sich nicht so furchtbar fühlte.

Nur leider fehlte eben diese eine Nachricht von einer einzigen Person, wegen der alles so gekommen war. Doch bevor Die wieder zusammenbrechen und weinen würde, raffte er sich tatsächlich auf und holte tief Luft. Er hatte früher auch schon Trennungen erlebt, so war das nicht. Nur meistens hatte er sich getrennt oder wenn mal nicht, dann waren es nur kurze Beziehungen gewesen. Gerade eben ist er noch 50 geworden und kurz darauf war er ein einsamer alter Mann. Wie Kaoru. Wo dessen Liebe hinfiel, wuchs auch kein Gras mehr.

Ein wenig schmunzelte Die bei dem Gedanken und er fragte sich, ob der Bandleader vielleicht wirklich einsam war oder ob er es nur nicht mehr mit den Beziehungen versuchte, weil seine Ehen gescheitert waren. Nie sah man ihn mit einer neuen Partnerin. Was heute Die zugutekam, denn nur so konnte er bei ihm unterkommen und ihm sogar die Shirts enteignen. Nach dem Duschen hatte sich Die gestern eines von Kaorus angezogen und stellte tatsächlich fest, dass sie angenehm körperbetont saßen. Auch die Jogginghose war in Ordnung und obwohl der großgewachsene Japaner relativ lange im Badezimmer gebraucht hatte, war sein Aufenthalt von Erfolg gekrönt gewesen. Sogar seine langen Haare hatte er sich gewaschen und anschließend ein paar der herumstehenden Cremes ausgetestet. Der Vanille-Geruch war ihm selbst nicht besonders angenehm, doch er nahm, was er kriegen konnte. Mit den frisch geputzten Zähnen hatte er sich dann nur noch ins Bett begeben, denn sein Körper machte einfach schlapp.

Anfangs war es komisch, im Bett eines Teenagers zu liegen, in dessen Zimmer, unter Kaorus Dach, doch zum Glück war der alte Mann darin so müde gewesen, dass er einfach eingeschlafen war. Nun, am Morgen, nahm sich Die die Zeit, etwas sorgfältiger durch die verschiedenen Shirts zu schauen und fand abgesehen von eigenen alten Bandshirts, auch eines seiner Lieblingsband D’erlanger. War das Absicht von Kaoru, es ihm zu geben? Vielleicht. Vermutlich? Die wusste es nicht, aber zog es sich lächelnd über. Alles andere musste von gestern nochmal herhalten, das nützte alles nichts. Dann humpelte er vorsichtig nach gegenüber zur Morgentoilette, bevor er sich nach unten begab.

Noch war alles still im Haus und anscheinend war auch Kaoru noch gar nicht wach, was Die nicht besonders überraschen sollte. Er würde einfach mal versuchen, ob er imstande wäre, sich in der Küche einen Kaffee zu machen. Offensichtlich war der Hausherr eher spartanisch eingestellt bei diesen Dingen, denn abgesehen von Instantfilterkaffee fand man hier nichts. Aber das war in Ordnung und immerhin war der Wasserkocher modern und man musste nicht mit dem Tauchsieder arbeiten.

„Morgen Die,“ gähnte ihn auf einmal eine Stimme an und Kaoru watschelte noch halb verschlafen in seine Küche, sein Schlafanzug offensichtlich bestehend aus einem Shirt in Größe eines Zeltes und karierten Schlabberhosen. „Hast du… oh, du hast.“ Er räusperte sich, weil auch seine Stimme noch kratzte. „Ich hab leider keinen anderen Kaffee da. Meistens trink ich auswärts. Aber nimm nur.“

„Hab ich gemacht, danke.“ Wieder musste Die lächeln, allein schon, weil der andere recht drollig rüberkam. „Willste auch? Ohne Kaffee am Morgen bin ich kein Mensch.“

„Mmh klar.“ Kaoru nickte und strich sich das Haar hinter um es zu einem Zopf zu binden. „Also ich weiß ja nicht, wie dein Plan aussieht, aber wir wollten doch nach Daiso und ich müsste auch was einkaufen. Falls wir das machen wollen, könnten wir unterwegs was essen gehen?“ Kaoru hatte nämlich auch gar nichts da, nicht einmal Eier, höchstens Reis von gestern, aber auch Onigirazu brauchten ein gewisses Innenleben um zu schmecken.

Nachdem Die auch für seinen Freund eine Tasse mit Filterkaffee bereit gemacht hatte, übergoss er das Ganze mit dem gekochten Wasser und nickte. „Klingt gut. Das dürfte auch im Rahmen meiner Ausgangssperre sein.“

„Eh? Ausgangssperre?“ Kaoru runzelte die Stirn.

Die zuckte die Schultern. „Tommy sagt, ich soll hierbleiben und nichts anstellen.“

Nun zuckte auch Kaoru die Schultern und zog seine Kaffeetasse zu sich heran. „Na wenn der das sagt.“ Er schmunzelte etwas, denn die Anweisung war schon etwas anmaßend, aber was sollten sie schon tun? „Ich geh dann jedenfalls mal was anziehen. Den Kaffee nehm ich mal mit.“

Er grinste leicht und latschte in aller Ruhe wieder nach oben. Die war manchmal verblüfft, was für eine wohldurchdachte Chill-Pill ihr Bandleader sein konnte. Genau das aber würde ihm sicherlich guttun dieser Tage. Er würde sich an Kaoru halten. Das wäre sicher gut für ihn.

***

Eine knappe Stunde später waren beide Männer auch schon unterwegs um ihren täglichen Bedarf einzukaufen, angefangen in einer großen Drogerie, an der Die keinesfalls vorbeikam ohne hineinzugehen. Er fand, dass er ziemlich viele eigene Cremes und Hygieneartikel brauchte, die er eben nicht von Kaoru benutzen wollte. Der schlappte ihm brav nach und sammelte mit einem Korb ein, was auch immer der durch die Gänge staksende Gehbehinderte benötigte. Das fing ganz allgemein bei Augentropfen an und hörte auch noch lange nicht bei den Zahnreinigungsprodukten auf, denn wie der Bandleader lernte, gab es auch noch so einige Nahrungsergänzungsmittel, die man zum Überleben brauchte. Jedenfalls was Die betraf. Bei den Haarprodukten war er wiederum zu wählerisch, als dass er diese in einer einfachen Drogerie kaufen würde, und sobald Kaoru es sich auch nur wagte, sein übliches Head & Shoulders in den Korb zu legen, bekam er eine Lektion in Haarpflege erteilt.

„Das müssen wir entweder bei mir Zuhause holen oder im ReFa Shop. Dann benutzt du das auch, das ist gut für dich,“ gab Die bekannt und damit war die Sache auch schon beschlossen, denn Kaoru war bei diesen Dingen nicht der Typ zum Diskutieren.

Zwar waren sie immer sehr ähnlich gewesen und auch Die noch nicht immer ein Haar-Buddha, aber wenigstens hatte er diese Marotte von seinem jüngeren Bruder und nicht von seiner Ische übernommen. Kaoru erinnerte sich jedoch sehr gut daran, wie Die mal erzählt hatte, dass er sich die Haare nicht mehr abschneiden lassen dürfte, weil sie fand, dass sie zu schön dafür wären. Was sein mochte, nur wer ließ sich bitte so etwas vorschreiben? Gesagt hatte der Bandleader dazu nichts, denn das war nicht seine Sache. Doch gedacht hatte er sich Vieles.

Heute schlenderte er seinem Kollegen nach und befolgte lieber dessen Wünsche, denn immerhin war Die quasi krank und brauchte das. So kamen sie schließlich auch irgendwann zum Ende und wenigstens besaß der Patient noch seine Kreditkarte zum Bezahlen. Danach ging es gleich weiter in einen größeren Daiso. Während Kaoru bei den nützlichen Dingen für Heim & Hof verloren ging, arbeitete sich Die schnell zu den Accessoires durch. Eigentlich war er nicht der Typ für Billigprodukte, aber er würde eine Ausnahme machen, denn auf die Schnelle bekam er hier sogar Socken und Unterhosen. Viele andere brauchbare Dinge raffte er auch gleich mit ein und seien es nur Behältnisse für seine neu gekauften Hygieneartikel. Außerdem fand er noch lustige Utensilien von Sanrio und das ging schließlich immer. Blöd war nur, dass er mit den Krücken und dem Einkaufskorb wirklich schlecht vorankam, sodass er nach kurzer Zeit Ausschau nach Kaoru halten musste.

Der kam langsam angetrottet und fiel trotzdem fast über den am Boden geparkten Einkaufskorb. „Na hoppla. Kannst du wohl nicht mehr tragen?“

„Bisschen schwer mit Krücken,“ erklärte sich Die und würde die Achseln zucken, wenn eben nicht diese Gehhilfen wären.

„Bisschen voll ist er auch,“ ächzte Kaoru, während er den Korb anhob.

„Ja und wir müssen noch in die Regale, wo ich Badzimmersachen bekomme. Früher hatten sie immer Bademäntel und sowas…“ Er humpelte jedenfalls schon mal los.

„Kannst doch meinen anziehen?“ Kaoru folgte, locker wie er das sah.

Doch Die grunzte. „Und du latscht dann nackt rum?“

„Nee,“ grunzte Kaoru nun ebenfalls und kicherte fast. „Mit Handtuch vielleicht?“

„Vielleicht?“, lachte der andere, denn das klang alles etwas seltsam gerade. „Also entscheidest du dann spontan, ob nicht doch nackt?“

„Muah,“ stöhnte der Bandleader. „Du nimmst mich auf den Arm jetzt.“

„Ein kleines bisschen. Aber tu dir keinen Zwang an, wenn du nackt sein willst. Ist ja deine Butze und ich bin nur Gast!“ Die scherzte und stoppte dabei beim Regal mit der Frottierware. „Einen eigenen Bademantel will ich trotzdem.“

„Hmmm naja.“ Wieder zuckte Kaoru die Schultern und spitzte nachdenklich die Lippen. „Vielleicht mach ich das.“ Er lächelte knapp und nahm noch ein paar Schlappen aus dem Regal. „Wenn schon, denn schon. Haben wir nun alles?“

Amüsant war es jedenfalls mit Kaoru einzukaufen, fand Die. Es lenkte ihn gut ab und er war zufrieden. „Ja, gehen wir an die Kasse.“

Nur kam er nicht weit, da ihn etwas abrupt stoppen ließ. Fast dachte Kaoru, es sei etwas Schlimmes passiert, bevor er den anderen zum Knabber-Regal hüpfen sah. So schnell war es bisher mit den Krücken noch nie gewesen!

„Uhhh yeah Kaki no Tane! Die mag ich super gerne!“ Obwohl er anfangs noch zaghaft die kleinen Tüten vom Ständer zog, konnte man bereits an seinen leuchtenden Augen sehen, dass es bald mehr werden würden. Wortlos hielt Kaoru den Korb nahe genug an Die heran, dass er seine Snacks nun tütenweise fallen lassen konnte. Kurz stoppte er dann und überlegte, bevor er noch drei weitere vom Stapel ließ. „Scheiß drauf.“

Die grinste so unbefangen, wie Kaoru ihn zumindest in den letzten Tagen noch nicht wieder erlebt hatte. Oder in den letzten Jahren? Sicher konnte sich Kaoru nicht sein, denn wenn es in ihrer Band um Snacks ging, hatte er eigentlich das Sagen. Von Die kam da selten etwas, auch wenn es dem Bandleader erst jetzt wieder ins Gedächtnis kam. Vielleicht war das auch so etwas, was seine Freundin Die quasi verboten hatte. Schon allein deswegen lächelte Kaoru ihn nun an und nahm noch ein Tütchen extra. „Ich mag die auch. Also immer rein in den Sack. Nasche ich immer beim Fernsehen.“

„Beim Filmgucken?“, fragte sich Die und sprach es laut aus, denn soweit er wusste, war sein Kollege jemand, der dann und wann gerne Filme sah. „Oder binged du auch was?“

„Hä?“ Dass es der Ältere nicht mit englischen Ausdrücken hatte, musste man eigentlich wissen. Doch obwohl Kaoru kurz auf der Leitung stand, ereilte ihn die Weisheit doch noch. „Serien? Ja, auch, aber nicht so oft. Ich kann was anfangen und dann nicht fertigschauen, weil wir keine Zeit haben. Das ist dann schade. Also such ich mir lieber einen Film. Den schaff ich wenigstens.“

Während er so plauderte, machten sie sich schon auf den Weg zur Kasse, wo der Jüngere von ihnen einmal mehr bezahlte. Dann ging es leider plötzlich los mit dem leidigen Thema, was sich an Die festgesogen hatte wie ein Pömpel. „Ich hab mit Alice immer Serien geschaut. Jeden Tag eine Folge, manchmal zwei.“

Er seufzte kurz, denn er wusste, dass es ein klägliches Thema war. Ersatzweise könnte er mit Kaoru schauen, doch das wäre wirklich zu viel Ersatz des Guten und irgendwie schräg. Andererseits könnten sie sich schon die Zeit vertreiben, oder? Dass Kaoru aber so still war, bedeutete vielleicht auch, dass er keine Lust darauf haben könnte.

Stattdessen aber suchte dieser nach etwas, was er sagen könnte, um wieder von dieser dummen Frau wegzukommen. Viel konnte sein Hirn aber nicht aufbringen. „Ich will als nächstes Alien Romulus schauen.“

Was Die aber nicht ahnen konnte und so Anschluss fand. „Kann ich mitschauen?“

Die Frage kam überraschend für Kaoru, doch er lachte auch, denn an sich musste der andere auch gar nicht fragen. „Klar kannst du. Heute Abend oder wann?“

Wieder lächelte Die und egal wie tief er in der Tinte saß, aber diese Kauleiste erhellte nun einmal die dunkelste Gasse. Er nickte dabei und freute sich tatsächlich. „Cool, dann ist das abgemacht. Wir haben ja nun Knabberkram. Fehlt uns nur noch was zu trinken.“

Beinahe hätte dies ein Affront für Kaoru sein können und gespielt tat er auch so. „Hallo? Ich bin ausgestattet!“

„Scusi!“, lachte Die sorglos für diesen Moment.

„Aber sicherheitshalber können wir in den Yamaya, der aufm Weg liegt. Folge mir!“ Zwar hatte Kaoru beide Hände voller Einkaufssäcke, aber einmal ein Leader, immer ein Leader. Nur ein eher langsamer heute. „Zum Glück ist der Supermarkt gleich bei mir um die Ecke.“

Dann dank dem gehbehinderten Gast musste Kaoru wohl einfach zweimal laufen, auch wenn Die versuchte eine Lösung zu finden. „Soll ich so einen Trolley kaufen? Oder einen Bollerwagen?“

„Lass gut sein,“ schnaufte Kaoru mittlerweile. „Ich schaff das schon!“

Denn immerhin war er hochmotiviert und freute sich auf seinen Filmabend mit Die. Endlich mal nicht alleine fernsehen! Und dann auch noch mit Die. Dem einen welchen.

***

Letztlich hatten sie es auch wieder nach Hause geschafft, von wo aus Kaoru noch einmal Angriff auf den Supermarkt nahm. Da Die sonst nichts weiter zutun hatte, kam er ebenfalls mit, wenn auch nur als behinderte Begleitung. Sie schlurften durch die Gänge und sammelten allerhand Kram ein, angefangen bei Orangen bis zu Gebäck, da der Hausgast ein recht Süßer war. Auch vergaßen sie nicht die Eier, denn da trafen zwei Feinschmecker aufeinander. Ein paar Bierchen für den Abend durften ebenfalls nicht fehlen, bevor sie an der Kasse doch wieder mit zwei vollen Einkaufssäcken standen, die diesmal von Kaoru bezahlt wurden. Tragen durfte er sie auch nochmals ganz alleine, aber das ging nun einmal nicht anders. Und so erklommen sie noch einmal die Straße hinauf zum Haus des Bandleaders, der, nachdem sie es endlich geschafft hatten, erst einmal auf seine Couch fiel. Er konnte die Einkäufe auch später noch wegräumen. Erstmal brauchte er eine Pause und ein Bier aus einem der Tüten.

„Du auch?“, fragte er aber nett und öffnete ein Zweites für Die, weil der nickte.

Sie saßen kurz und tranken in Stille, bevor Die das Wort ergriff: „Kann ich nun irgendwas helfen? Muss ja auch mal lernen, trotz Gipsbein was zu tun.“

Diesmal vergaß Kaoru die Höflichkeit, denn Hilfe wäre nicht verkehrt. „Kannst ja den Kram für nachher aus den Säcken nehmen und uns schon was hinstellen? Ich pack den Rest weg. Willste auch noch was Essen oder bist noch satt?“

Irgendwann zwischendurch hatten sie beim Thailänder ein paar Bratnudeln verputzt, nachdem sie vor der Einkaufsorgie auch Frühstück bei Starbucks hatten. Nur ob das genug für Die war, konnte Kaoru nicht wirklich einschätzen. Er würde sich selbst etwas Reis vom Vortag nehmen, wenn ihn der Hunger übermannte. Ob man das aber einem Gast antun könnte? Damit kannte er sich nun nicht aus.

„Ich bin noch satt. Hab auch Gebäck, falls ich naschen will. Und Kaki no Tane!“ Die war also glücklich und machte sich nun daran, eine Tasche auszupacken. Er brauchte natürlich länger, aber er wollte nicht nur bedient werden. Während Kaoru sich um alles andere kümmerte, stellte Die ihnen Bier hin und kippte die Snacks in eine Schale, um diese auf den Couchtisch zu stellen.

Dann kam auch schon der Bandleader und staunte nicht schlecht, als er sich auf die Couch setzte und schon mal eine Erdnuss in seinem Mund verschwinden ließ. „Ich schau mal kurz, wo der Film läuft. Hab ihn irgendwo zum Stream entdeckt.“

Die wollte sich gerade zu ihm setzen, als sein Handy vibrierte und er fast schon genervt das Teil aus seiner Hosentasche fischen musste. Nichts war einfach mit Krücken. Doch wessen Name auf seinem Display zu sehen war, ließ ihn ganz still werden und sein Herz laut pochen.

„Fuck.“ Seine Stimme war leise und zitterte, ebenso wie seine Finger, bevor er plötzlich wie beflügelt lauter wurde und beinahe hektisch. „Es ist Alice! Ich muss da rangehen!“

Wie eine Verkündung schallte seine Stimme durch das Haus und Kaoru sah nur, wie Die sich das Handy ans Ohr presste, während er bereits zur Seite humpelte.

„Ja, warte mal kurz!“

Offenbar bat er sie um einen Moment, damit er sich in Ruhe verkrümeln konnte, denn der große Mann krüppelte sich schnurstracks nach oben, um allein mit ihr telefonieren zu können. Dass ihm der Anruf wichtig war, musste man Kaoru nicht erklären. Es war nun einmal, wie es war, und Die sollte sich die Zeit nehmen, die er eben brauchte. Ebenso die Privatsphäre, denn Gespräche während einer Trennung waren in der Regel intim. Trotzdem fragte sich Kaoru, was sie nun wollen könnte. Ging es ihr um Dies Wohlergehen oder um die kaputte Karre? Informierte sie ihn über ein Kontaktverbot oder würde sie ihn wie ein Frauchen ihren Hund zu sich rufen? Nichts von alledem würde jedoch Kaoru tangieren, theoretisch und auch praktisch, obwohl er dem anderen Obdach gab. Nein, er würde warten müssen auf die Dinge, die da kamen.

***

Das tat er dann auch schon geschlagene zwei Stunden, ohne dass Die zurückkam. Anfangs harrte Kaoru noch aus und spielte auf seinem Handy herum, weil er dachte, vielleicht kämen sie noch zu ihrem gemeinsamen Filmabend. Doch nachdem sein erstes Bier dabei draufging und die Schale mit der Knabberei leer war, startete er einfach irgendeinen anderen Film. Blöd wie er nun einmal war, brachte er es nicht fertig, den „gemeinsamen“ Film alleine zu schauen. Er war eben doch ein Volltrottel, wenngleich es zum Glück niemand wusste. Dass er enttäuscht war, musste er zwar einsehen, aber würde es niemals vor einem anderen zugeben. Stand ihm das überhaupt zu? Nein. Hatte er sich auf einen Film mit Die gefreut? Ja. Durfte er sich verhalten wie ein Kleinkind? Nein. Stellte er sich dumme Fragen? Ja.

Grummelnd wusste Kaoru natürlich, dass er als gestandener Kerl sich nichts daraus zu machen hatte, wenn er für Dies Liebe seines Lebens versetzt wurde. Wenn sie das denn war. Auch das konnte er nicht beantworten, aber es gebot sich nun einmal, dass man zurücksteckte in solch einem Fall. Obwohl diese Frau eine Schande war und gar nicht gut für Die, so hatten sie ihre Vergangenheit, Zweisamkeit, Geheimnisse, Gefühle und ihr geteiltes Leben, das immerhin sieben Jahre bestanden hatte. Dass Die sprang, wenn sie anrief, war nur logisch. Dafür konnte man ihn auch nicht hassen. Es war nur einfach…

„Kompliziert,“ nuschelte Kaoru vor sich hin und hatte nun auch ein zweites Bier intus, das es ihm nicht leicht machte wach zu bleiben, während ein Film über Motorradfahrer lief. Da er aber bis heute nur Fahrradfahren beherrschte, interessierte ihn die Geschichte nicht besonders und er war so gut wie am Einschlafen.

Erst als neben ihm ein Gewicht ins Sofa krachte und das Schniefen einer Nase zu hören war, schreckte der Bandleader hoch und nahm Die wahr.

„Tut mir leid,“ sagte dieser mit kratziger Stimme und versuchte zu verbergen, wie offensichtlich peinlich berührt er war. Es war nicht schwer zu bemerken, welche Mühe er hatte zu verstecken, dass er einmal mehr wie so oft geweint hatte und nahe daran war, wieder zusammenzubrechen. Man musste sich sogar fragen, wieso er überhaupt noch hergekommen war, wenn es ihm doch so mies ging. Andererseits war es vielleicht einfach, weil er nicht alleine sein wollte mit dem Kampf gegen diese schrecklich schmerzhaften Gefühle. Womöglich brauchte er einfach einen Freund. Es war offenkundig, wie er versuchte sich zusammenzureißen, doch auch, wie absolut down er wieder nach dem Gespräch mit Alice war.

Kaoru konnte das kaum mit ansehen und versuchte wirklich einfühlsam zu sein, als er den Kopf neigte und Dies Blick einfing. „Lief nicht so gut?“

„Nein,“ schüttelte Die den Kopf und schnappte sich das Bier vom Tisch, um es mit großen Schlucken hinter zu trinken. Dann setzte er ab und wischte sich mit dem Handrücken über die Augen und Wangen. „Ich kann aber meine Sachen holen.“

Etwas mehr Kontext wünschte sich Kaoru hier schon, doch er wollte keinen Druck machen. Lieber stand er auf und ging zum Kühlschrank, um zwei eiskalte Dosen seiner Lieblingshighballs zu holen. Eine davon gab er Die. „Kleine mentale Stütze.“

Dankbar nahm der andere das an und öffnete sie auch. „Tut mir jedenfalls leid, dass ich dich hier hab sitzenlassen. Es war nur so… naja, endlich redete sie mal mit mir. Es waren am Ende zwar wieder nur Vorwürfe wegen allem, aber so weiß ich immerhin auch, woran ich bin.“

Schon am Ende des Satzes zitterte Dies Unterlippe so verdächtig, dass Kaoru nun wusste, was folgen würde. Noch nie zuvor hatte er so oft gesehen, wie Tränen dem Gesicht des anderen hinabliefen. Es war zwar unheimlich befremdlich, aber es machte ihn auch so unsagbar wütend auf diese Kuh von Alice. Außerdem machte es noch etwas anderes mit ihm, aber das Verlangen zum Trostspenden sollte nun einmal auf Alkohol und Worte begrenzt sein. Nicht?

„Das tut mir leid für dich,“ sagte der Ältere nun in, wie er hoffte, einer einfühlsamen Art und legte sogar seine Hand an Dies Schulter.

Was danach geschah, hatte Kaoru keinesfalls auf seiner Agenda. In einer fließenden Bewegung hatte sich Die gedreht und drückte ihm nun die Nase an den Hals, damit seine schmale Schulter ein Schwamm für Dies Tränen sein konnte. Was sonst hätte Kaoru tun können, als ihm über den Rücken zu streichen, obgleich es doch ziemlich ungewohnt war.

„Ich bin so unglücklich!“, weinte der Jüngere und schluchzte dabei, als gäbe es keinen Morgen.

„Na na,“ war alles, was Kaoru zunächst hervorbrachte, denn mit so etwas konfrontiert zu werden, hatte er wirklich nie auf dem Schirm gehabt. Doch es nützte alles nichts. Hier waren sie nun und er strich Die das Haar zur Seite und tätschelte ihm den Rücken. „Das wird schon wieder. Ich helfe dir doch. Bist nicht allein.“

Was sollte er auch sagen?

Anscheinend half es aber tatsächlich, als Die seinen Kopf hob und sich aufrichtete in einer Manier, um seine Selbstachtung wiederzufinden. „Ja, du hilfst mir. Nur du, aber das ist gut. Kommst du auch mit, wenn ich meine Sachen holen muss?“

Wie ein kleiner Junge klang Die, doch seine Bitte würde Kaoru nicht ausschlagen können. „Wofür hat man denn Freunde?“

Nun schmunzelte Die fast. „Naja aber du bist der Einzige, der mir hilft.“

„Ach was,“ winkte der Ältere ab, obwohl ihm die Aussage auch so ein bisschen gefiel, warum auch immer. „Ich war nur der Schnellste.“

Nun lächelte Die trotz seines verheulten Gesichts und trank von seinem Highball in großen Zügen, bevor er sogar versucht zu scherzen. „Da bist du schon mal der Schnellste irgendwo und gewinnst nur mich. Hätte besser für dich laufen können.“

Dies Galgenhumor war nicht der Lustigste, doch Kaoru grunzte trotzdem mit einem kleinen Grinsen. „Hätte mich auch schlimmer treffen können. Bist nicht der Übelste auf der Welt.“

Was Die echt mal hören musste, auch wenn es kein überschwängliches Kompliment war. Es bedeutete viel, wenn es von Kaoru kam, und es hieß, dass man ihn noch mochte. Gemocht zu werden war wichtig dieser Tage, wo es diese eine besondere Frau in seinem Leben nun nicht mehr tat.

„Sollen wir eigentlich noch den Film schauen?“ Nicht dass Die besonders erpicht darauf war, aber er wollte eben einfach noch mit dem anderen Mann abhängen.

Dem der Film an sich nicht komplett egal war, weshalb er lieber den Kopf schüttelte. „Scheiß auf den Film heute. Lass uns was trinken und sag mir, wann du nun deine Sachen holen kannst. Vielleicht brauchen wir nun doch den Bollerwagen…“

Auf den kleinen Scherz hin lächelte Die träge, doch dankbar. „Morgen soll ich kommen. Weiß gar nicht, wie ich das schaffen soll.“

„Naja du wirst ja nicht alles auf einmal holen sollen?!“ Da war Kaoru verständnislos.

Doch Die zuckte mit den Schultern. „Sie klang halt so. Deswegen gab’s ja wieder Drama und am Ende sag ich schon nichts mehr, weil’s mich zu fertig macht.“

„Okay, okay.“ Bevor der Mann hier nun wieder aus lauter Verzweiflung anfing zu heulen, würde Kaoru wohl einschreiten müssen um die Dinge zu regeln. Offensichtlich war es so, dass Die das nötig hatte, egal welche Grenze der Bandleader vielleicht übertreten würde. „Dass du morgen mal eben alles holst, kann sie nicht von dir verlangen. Sollst du jetzt mit deinem Gips im Umzugswagen kommen und Kisten packen? Also nein, so nicht. Wir gehen morgen und holen das Wichtigste. Du hast ja Koffer und Reisetaschen und alles andere organisieren wir später. Ich sag ihr das schon, wenn sie dir nicht zuhören will.“

Die trank noch einen Schluck und nickte. „Und Boo müssen wir holen.“

Kaoru hätte mit Einwänden gerechnet, darüber, dass er nicht so mit Alice reden sollte oder dergleichen, doch nicht mit zwei treudoofen Augen, die ihn vor Tatsachen stellten, die er überhaupt nicht verstand. „Boo?“

„Meine Katze.“ Natürlich, Dies Katze. Gut, dass er das aufklärte. „Sie will sich nicht um ihn kümmern. Obwohl wir ihn gemeinsam geholt haben und ich dachte, er kann dortbleiben, bis ich was Eigenes habe. Aber sie will ihn nicht. Sie hat gesagt, sie gibt ihn weg, wenn ich ihn nicht hole.“

Wie gemein! Kaorus Mund stand sogar offen. Er war kein Freund von Haustieren, so etwas brauchte er nicht. Ganz besonders fand er Hunde eher nervend als süß. Doch wenn man sich dafür entschied, hatte man Verantwortung – so auch diese Frau. Stattdessen drohte sie dem armen Die nun an, sein Haustier wegzugeben, wenn er es nicht abholte. Das war mehr als mies. Ehrlich gesagt, fragte sich Kaoru, warum es den anderen nicht mehr mitnahm, denn das war wirklich eine Hausnummer. Aber wahrscheinlich wusste Die gar nicht mehr, wohin mit seinen vielen Sorgen, eine schlimmer als die andere.

„Sie ist ein fieses Stück. Ja, ich muss das mal sagen. Ein fieses Miststück.“ Nun war es raus und Kaoru fühlte sich befreiter.

Während Die verstand, dass sein Gegenüber das rauslassen musste. „Ich finde es auch mies, aber… ach ich weiß überhaupt gar nichts mehr. Als steht meine Welt Kopf. Nichts ist mehr normal. Nur wenn wir Boo holen könnten, wäre ich dir echt dankbar. Er fehlt mir.“

Klang kindisch, aber war so. Zum Glück verstand Kaoru auch das, denn Die musste sich nach etwas Beständigem sehnen und wenn es eben sein Haustier war. So etwas gab Kraft. Der Ältere wusste das aus eigener Erfahrung, auch wenn es bei ihm seine Kinder gewesen waren. „Wir holen dir deinen Boo. Keine Sorge.“

Es waren so wenige Worte, kaum bedeutsam eigentlich, doch gaben sie so viel Zuversicht und Kraft in jenem Moment, dass Die sich nicht beherrschen konnte. Wieder umarmte er Kaoru, diesmal nicht schluchzend, sondern dankbar und entsprechend fest. Er sollte wissen, dass er gerade ein Fels in nicht nur der Brandung, doch einem tosenden Sturm war, der unumstößlich ebenso zur Beständigkeit in Dies Leben beitrug. Er war eine Konstante.

Zwar war Kaoru wieder überrascht, doch diesmal nicht befremdet. Er mochte Umarmungen von Die. Schon immer. Manchmal zu sehr. Aber man musste sie auch mögen, denn sie strahlten Herzlichkeit und Vertrauen aus. Etwas, das auch Kaoru gut brauchen konnte. Er lächelte in der Umarmung und genoss sie einfach. Das konnte man ja mal zulassen.

Ende Kapitel Drei.

#direngrey fanfiction #bandfic #dir en grey #andura #multi-chaptered #fanfic #rating: m #take-the-long-way-home

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prankdoeswriting · 1 year ago

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Chapters: 25/25 Fandom: 転生したらスライムだった件 - 伏瀬 | Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken | That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime - Fuse Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rimuru Tempest & Veldora Tempest, Guy Crimson & Everyone, Rimuru Tempest & Everyone, Chloe O'Bell | Chloe Aubert & Leon Cromwell, Milim Nava & Everyone, Veldora Tempest & Velgrynd & Velzard, Masayuki Rudra Nam Ul Nasca/Velgrynd, Guy Crimson/Velzard, Dagruel & Dino Characters: Rimuru Tempest, Veldora Tempest, Guy Crimson, Milim Nava, Ramiris (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken), Luminous Valentine, Dino (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken), Dagruel (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken), Velzard (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken), Velgrynd (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken), Shion (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken), Chloe O'Bell | Chloe Aubert, Ranga (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken), Tamura (Tensei Shitara Slime Datta Ken) Additional Tags: Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, vtuber au, Alternate Universe - Twitch Streamers, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Anthology, Based on a Tumblr Post, references to other media, alternate names for characters, Swearing, parasocial relationships, Parasocialism, Non-Linear Narrative, Non-Chronological, Gaming, Potential OOCness, Chatting & Messaging, Chatlogs, featuring actual details on vtuber history, Intentionally Bad Spelling & Grammar, (just on some of the chatlog stuff to make it more authentic), references to light novel spoilers, Slice of Life, Characters Playing Minecraft, Characters Playing Phasmophobia (Video Game), Characters Playing Mario Kart (Video Games), Characters Playing Among Us (Video Game), Characters Playing Mario Party, Family Drama, Morally Ambiguous Character, Canonical Character Death, Past Character Death, Mental Health Issues, Fluff and Angst, other characters not tagged Series: Part 55 of Works by "Prank" (Pseud Series), Part 29 of Popular Fanfiction Tropes the Series (based on the ColeyDoesThings videos) Summary:

In which the Demon Lords and True Dragons are re-imagined as famous indie vtubers. Based on a Tumblr post.

(Fulfills the "Celebrity AU" of the series.)

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captainkirkk · 3 months ago

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What they don't tell you about writing is that as you write, you discover scenes and entire plots that you hadn't accounted for that need to be written. So you can spend two hours writing and editing only to realise you're further away from the finish line than you thought you were when you started

#clawing at the walls rn #whenever my brain tells me to make a story multi chaptered i know its the devil talking... but the devil has a point....#how do longfic authors do this shit #my posts

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esmeefreckles · 10 days ago

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Golden Exchange | Alexia Putellas x reader

Chapter 1: The proposal

⚠️ This story is +18 contains mature themes.

Tags: Slow Burn · Slow Build · Fake Dating · Angst & Comfort · Emotional Tension · Escort AU · Sugar mommy Alexia.

You made it through undergrad while working nights, barely sleeping, always pushing. But law school? That’s a different beast. Tuition, rent, books... it’s too much. Escorting isn’t the dream, but it pays, and right now, survival beats pride. Alexia thought retiring from football would give her peace. Instead, she’s dodging rumors, fake friends, and relentless attention. So when she sees you, her sister’s childhood best friend, at a gala, all poised and stunning, she blurts out a half-joke: "How much would I have to pay you to pretend to be my girlfriend?" She’s only half kidding. You’re only half sure you should say yes.

A/N: A huge thank you to @sswed for being the best beta reader and helping me so much.

Alexia got a text from her manager, she considered not checking it. The entire reason she gave him his own ringtone was so she'd be forewarned not to look at a message from her on a day she couldn't handle it. With a rough sigh, Alexia pulled her phone out of her clutch, keeping her gaze fixed out the car window. Right before an event wasn't an ideal time to have an interaction with her, but if she was texting her now, it might be important.

"Have you left already?"

Alexia scowled at her phone, typing out a quick,

"Yes."

She was thirty-three; she really didn't need her manager still micromanaging her. This was part of why she'd retired from professional football. That and the fact that she hated every second of the relentless spotlight and the immense pressure that was going to bring her an early grave.

"Mead will be at the event, as will Hegerberg- Watch yourself."

Why her manager asked now made more sense; she wanted to make sure Alexia was already on her way before warning her. Even halfway to the event, Alexia considered telling her driver to turn them around.

"Fran, how far are we?" she sighed, looking up to the front seat of the car.

Fran paused, tilting his head back to listen.

"Twenty minutes to the press entrance," he told her, sounding a little apologetic. Alexia sighed, glaring at her clutch as she slipped her phone back inside.

"Is Mario waiting there already?" she confirmed.

Fran nodded in the front seat. Alexia slumped in her seat. She couldn't bail on a charity event anyway, but considering they were almost there and her bodyguard was waiting, she just felt trapped. It would be good to see Marta again, but the rumors about the two of them were just starting to calm down. With Marta and Pablo broken up again, Alexia didn't doubt the top story in the tabloids would be about them making eyes at each other.

Alexia was still glaring at her phone when the next message came in.

"Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

Alexia turned her phone to silent and slipped it back into her clutch. She had thought about it, and she'd decided for and against it at least a dozen different times. Tonight was definitely going to put her back in the "for" column.

You'd been an escort for three years now, but this was your first hate-client. You weren't sure you could even call it that as you watched Marta’s gaze catch on her ex’s back. Despite the small "ugh" of disgust she released, her eyes lit up, and she was clearly interested. Marta had been blunt when she hired you, saying she wanted someone to keep her company and show her ex the kind of person she wanted to date, someone responsible, who knew how to behave in polite society, apparently.

If they weren't back together in two weeks, you'd return her fee. Well, no, you would never do that, but you wouldn't have to, because she was right. When Pablo spotted them, the actor’s eyes lit up, and he hurried over. Marta tightened her grip on your arm, and you pointedly turned to walk a few feet over to the gaggle of people that had cropped up around Marta’s latest producer.

Marta gave off a satisfied air as Pablo stopped in the middle of jogging over to them, looking crestfallen as he finally registered that Marta was hanging off someone else’s arm. The arm of someone significantly shorter than her, sure, but you were dressed nicer than Pablo, and you knew for a fact he was a millionaire, so you considered it a power move still. You turned your attention away from him as Marta’s producer greeted her and began introductions with the group.

He didn't bother introducing you, wearing a full suit and a real tie instead of the bandana Pablo was sporting didn’t make you actually matter. You were here as a buffer and a distraction. As another attempt by Marta to affirm to the public that she was, in fact, bisexual, even if she had been dating a man long-term. The rant she gave you in the car had been long but also relaxing. You had to pretend to be a lot of things for your job, so it was nice when you could just relax and be yourself a little with a client and especially be queer.

Marta seemed to enjoy your bitchiness, at least. You figured she would, or you wouldn't have busted it out. You hadn't been doing this for three years for nothing. You had a good eye for what a client wanted. Being an escort had, without a doubt, made you a better lawyer. You had learned to read people, a skill you already had but had perfected since you began the work, and you had grown comfortable in a variety of situations.

Marta tapped on your arm, prompting you to push up your shirt sleeve so she could glance at your watch.

"Hmm, she should be here by now. Do you know Alexia Putellas?" Marta questioned, raising her line of sight to meet your eyes.

Through years of training, you did not let your eye twitch, your expression impassive as you nodded.

"She probably got trapped at the front door. Go fetch her for me. Tell her you’re with me," Marta told you, a clear dismissal as she dropped your arm. You nodded, giving a short bow before turning to find Alexia.

You hadn't looked up the event before agreeing to this job; you knew if Alexia wasn't going, you could take it comfortably, but if she was, you wouldn't have been able to make yourself accept the job. You were in your final year of your J.D. You needed the paycheck from this event to pay for your tuition. You'd done some uncomfortable things for your job before, and running into your ex-crush shouldn't rank that high on the list, but of the uncomfortable things you knew about in advance, it was pretty much at the top.

There was always the chance Alexia wouldn't recognize you.

You comforted yourself as you slipped through the crowd. If you hadn't known for the last fucking decade that Alexia had forgotten about you since she signed for Barça, that thought wouldn't be a comfort. But you already knew you were unimportant to the girl you were in love with. What you wouldn't be able to stand was Alexia recognizing you and still putting on a PR smile.

Marta’s prediction was accurate. Even with the rich and famous attendees at the charity gala, Alexia drew a crowd. You drew yourself up, projecting uninterested confidence as you walked past the gaggle forming around Alexia. You ignored every single one of them, focusing on Alexia as you swept up to her side.

Alexia spotted you a half-second before your eyes met, raising an eyebrow in challenge as she offered her arm without greeting. It was a power play; everything was with crowds like this. Alexia’s eyes widened slowly, her pupils dilating even as confusion clouded her expression. Some part of her recognized you, which honestly floored you, considering the decade of radio silence and the colored contact lenses you were sporting. Clearly, she wasn't sure of her recognition, though. You cleared your throat as the dozen people surrounding watched on with interest.

"Hey, Alexia," you greeted her, because if Alexia could begin to recognize you even with color contacts, then maybe your voice would be enough to push her over into realizing who you were.

The moment you echoed your old flirtation, Alexia’s eyes widened further, her breath hitching as she took your arm without hesitation.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I have an old friend to catch up with," Alexia said, almost as an afterthought, not looking at anyone but you.

You managed to keep your posture perfectly still, throwing the group a smirk to show just how collected you were as you pulled Alexia away. She followed, still staring at you. You didn't know why. Yes, your appearance here was undoubtedly surprising, but you didn't know why Alexia bothered to even remember what you looked like.

"A contact?" Alexia asked, her voice low, as you led them.

You glanced over, intending to make quick eye contact, but you caught Alexia staring at your pupil, which should be blue. Alexia nodded, seeming to have confirmed to herself that she was right. You knew if you looked close enough at your eyes, it was possible to spot the ring of blue peeking out from the edge of the contact, as well as the slight difference in shade and texture from your truly green eye. You cleared your throat, looking forward again.

"Yes, Marta sent me to fetch you," You told her.

Alexia startled a little, turning to stare at you, but you had caught sight of Marta again, so you ignored her. Marta hadn't stayed put, and she was talking to her ex now. You were glad Marta didn't even question your policy of being paid at the beginning of the night. Letting her get cornered by the ex she was trying to teach a lesson, even if she sent you away first, was the kind of thing a bitchy client would call a failure of service. You had your policies for a reason.

At your side, Alexia let out a long breath as she spotted Marta.

"Thanks for not saying her name in front of the crowd. She’s a good friend, but…there are rumors about us," Alexia said, a little sheepishly. You gave a slight nod in acknowledgment. Yeah, you knew. Unlike Alexia, you kept up on what your friend was up to.

Marta spotted them, glancing down at your intertwined arms and looking amused. She raised her eyebrow as you dropped Alexia��s arm and returned to Marta’s side. You sent Pablo a challenging look as Marta took your arm again. Pablo looked a bit deflated, but at least Marta looked like she was having fun before you showed up to rescue her.

"I fetched her for you, darling," you told her, in the sweet voice you perfected in high school that Alexia used to know meant "fuck you," but who knows, because it was convincing as hell at this point, if you said so yourself.

Alexia was a little flushed, her gaze still locked on you, though she looked calculating rather than wide-eyed now.

"Figured you were getting swarmed. Thought I’d send rescue, but I didn’t think you’d take my escort for yourself," Marta told Alexia, seeming amused.

Her voice was low so as not to be overheard, but you still felt a ball of dread in your stomach. You couldn't take watching Alexia realize what you did. It was a fucking charity event, but you weren't a charity case. It was a job. Your job.

Alexia’s eyes went wide at the same time that you narrowed yours at her. You looked away, not wanting to see whatever pity bloomed there. You knew the perception of your night job, but you made good money, enough to pay for law school. You didn't need Alexia, with all her unlimited money and fame, suddenly feeling sorry for the girl she left behind without a care.

"Rule number two of hiring an escort is not telling people that’s what they are," you pointed out, your own voice low. Marta snorted with amusement, sending you a glance.

"Alexia helped me put my bush out when it caught fire. She’s cool," Marta said.

You blinked, but part of your job was not asking questions, regardless of how badly you wanted an explanation for all that. You could also point out that Pablo was, at best, five inches away from her and definitely heard that, but he also didn't seem surprised.

You were hired after he embarrassed Marta one too many times in public, meant to be an example for the kind of behavior she was “actually interested in” but apparently, Marta meant for him to watch and learn. You moved up your mental timetable on them getting back together for the next forty-eight hours.

In front of them, Alexia cleared her throat. You had undergone a lot of training, largely under trial by fire, in remaining impassive, but you couldn't hide your slight wince, at least not to Alexia.

"Where are you seated?" Alexia asked, despite the way she was still looking at you.

Marta seemed amused, glancing between the two of you. She probably just thought her friend had the hots for her date; she couldn't be more wrong. You put on a stunningly impassive bitch face. If you had to deal with Alexia for the entire event, this was going to be the hardest you had ever had to work for a paycheck in your life.

"Near the fountain in the middle, not all of us get front row," Marta said, with a vague wave of her hand. Alexia deflated and you barely bit down on your sigh of relief.

Alexia should have been more subtle, probably. It was going to be all over the tabloids how she couldn't keep her eyes off Marta, but the truth was Alexia had hardly looked at her friend once. No, she'd been far more focused watching you. Alexia had recognized you immediately and felt a bit insane, given that your eyes and hair were wrong. It wasn't until she was able to look closely and see the contact that she truly knew.

Alexia hadn't seen you since she was fifteen. Despite not realizing her true feelings for you until they were apart, Alexia had been hung up on you ever since. She barely got a few minutes with you, impassive and polite, not acting like yourself, before they were being called away for the ceremony.

It was Alexia’s own fault for showing up so late, but she hadn't wanted to socialize. She only stepped into the limelight again for charity events like this, and she wanted to minimize her exposure. She intended to show up, greet a few people, make a quick appearance, and leave. Instead, she spent the entire ceremony taking any excuse to glance back in Marta’s direction.

You were professional. Alexia could tell because there was hardly any trace of you in your actions as you played the perfect gentleman for the entire night, chatting with Marta during the lulls and intermissions, casually fending off others attempting to make conversation with the bored actress, and maintaining an engaged expression throughout the entire night.

When it came time for Alexia to stand up and make her brief speech about the charity, the kind of speech she always gave, and the absolute last thing she personally wanted to do, Alexia had to keep her eyes fixed on the front of the crowd. If she saw you making that faux-interested expression in the face of her performance, no matter how much she disliked public speaking herself, Alexia didn't think she could take it.

She looked when the speech was finished, though, as she took her polite bow and reminded the audience of the importance of the cause. You were leaning forward attentively, though Alexia couldn't see your expression from there. Alexia swallowed as she departed the stage. The rest of the night was torture. As part of the ceremony, she had to hang back and give one last endorsement to the cameras. When she was finally free, she couldn't spot Marta or a familiar face amongst the crowd. Alexia deflated, but she hurried towards the entrance now that she had confirmed you were already gone.

"You look even worse than I was expecting," Mario greeted when Alexia rejoined her event bodyguard.

Mario didn't give a shit, and that was why Alexia liked him. He had said she might be her favorite client because he never had to coddle her. Alexia had been careful to cultivate a group of people who were more likely to avoid her for her status than seek it out.

"The tabloids are going to be terrible," Alexia returned, already opening her clutch to pull out her phone as Mario escorted her back out to the limo.

There were reporters waiting, there always were, but Alexia ignored them. Mario just grunted affirmation. His entire job was protecting Alexia from the reporters and fans; he knew just how rabid they could be.

Alexia didn't dare to pull up her conversation with her manager until Mario had seen her into the limo, waving goodbye to him through the window as Fran peeled away from the venue. She didn't need anyone to catch a photo of what she was about to send and print it.

"I’ve thought about the proposal. I’ll do it."

You peeled off your suit the moment you got back to your dorm. Stupid mock trials and archaic legal precedents that hadn’t been used in decades would absolutely get overturned in a real courtroom, but no, Mr. Simmons let it stand in the classroom and declared your case lost.

You were muttering to yourself as you changed into sweats and didn’t even bother with a shirt. You were so frustrated. You knew what you needed right now, but you wouldn’t even be thinking about it if it weren’t for last weekend.

You hadn't collapsed into Alexia's arms after a long day to receive comfort and reassurance in a decade, but one stilted conversation with your ex-friend, and you were craving it. You put your hair up in a ponytail and flopped down on your bed, yanking your laptop into your lap and ignoring the restlessness you felt. Checking your website while you were already in a bad mood was probably a bad idea, but right now you actually wanted a handsy client, if only to feel some contact, even if it wouldn't be real affection.

No one had ever had affection for you, though. You thought Alexia might feel the same when you were kids, but the second she got swept off to the glamour of football, she didn’t give enough of a shit to even call you.

Sometimes, handsy clients made your skin crawl; other times, you just accepted it as the closest thing you were ever going to get to feeling wanted. Love was a dream that died a decade ago. You knew these thoughts weren’t healthy, but even with your night job, you couldn't afford fucking therapy.

You could hardly make your tuition payments as it was. Your website was subtle and understated. It was possible to look at it with an innocent eye and not realize what you truly did.

Well, it would be if the majority of your clients weren’t referred to the site by the agency you paid to list you in a private database, where clients knew the truth. Publicly, you advertised minder services for events, offering to watch and corral clients who might get swarmed by others or get a bit too drunk for their own good.

Until you got to the booking form, there wasn’t even a mention of your one-on-one services. You were an escort, but you didn’t need creeps coming to you, and if what you did became public knowledge, it risked undermining your legal career before it even got started. You covered your most defining feature and used a fake name, but you still had to be careful. It was a balance between advertising enough to get work and not getting caught. You hadn't gotten any new offers since the charity event a week ago.

The best part of your job was how well it paid, the worst part was how sporadic that pay was. You kind of needed another client in the next few days, or you might not have enough for your tuition payment, even with the ridiculous amount Marta paid you. You made a nice profit, but college was expensive. You opened your inbox and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw an offer there. A one-on-one, which wouldn’t pay as well as an event, but it would lower stress.

You caught sight of the name on the booking.

Part of Alexia wondered if you were even going to show up.

You hadn't seemed interested in talking to her at the event, and despite Alexia's purposefully leaving parts of the booking form blank, you never reached out for clarifying details before accepting the appointment. Granted, you had less than two days to do so, but Alexia still left a lot of blanks, barring her phone number, and heard nothing. She'd already put two hundred dollars down as a deposit, and even though that was only a tenth of the full price, waiting for you, should you show, it might be enough.

It would certainly be a clear "fuck off," and you always loved dramatics.

Alexia got your contact information from Marta the day after the event, while Marta ridiculed her mercilessly for getting hot for her escort, but that was far from the truth. Well, okay, Alexia had been hot for you always, but she also never thought she would get to see you again. She couldn't let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

Despite Alexia’s worries, you arrived exactly ten minutes before your “date” was supposed to start. You seemed wary as you were led into Alexia’s private room in the back of the restaurant. You were wearing suit pants and a black satin button-down, a bow tie undone loosely around your neck.

It made Alexia relax a little to see you in something closer to what you used to be comfortable in. You were dressed appropriately fancy for the restaurant, a slate waistcoat buttoned over your shirt, but one of the blouses Alexia had left was the desired attire. She smiled hopefully as she rose from her seat, the hostess giving a short bow as she quickly backed out of the room to give them a private moment.

"It’s good to see you," Alexia told you, cautiously stepping forward within hugging range. She had no idea what the protocols were for this. You were wearing your contacts again. Alexia could see calculation in your gaze as you appraised her before you raised your arms.

Alexia breathed a sigh of relief as you hugged her. It made warmth flood through her chest, a relief she hadn't known in years.

The restaurant was stupid fancy; you figured that out from a quick Google search, a search you had to do given that Alexia provided no dress code. Alexia had one of the private rooms with a balcony overlooking the street below. The door to the balcony was firmly closed, and the gauzy privacy curtain was drawn over it. Someone on street level might be able to tell there were people inside the room, but that was about it.

You had no idea what to do. You hadn't felt this unsure since your first client. It wasn’t just because you were meeting with Alexia, you had been given next to no instructions. Alexia lit up like a goddamn winterfest display when she saw you enter the room. She went to hug you and you allowed it, partially because Alexia was paying you two grand just to have dinner with her, and partially because, alright, you missed it.

You had no clue why Alexia would hire you after not attempting to reach out for a decade, but from the plainly joyful expression on her face, you suspected that Alexia just wanted to catch up. It was the only theory that really made sense anyway. You were friends before Alexia became richer and famous. She was probably sick of the way people treated her now and looking for something "down to Earth" or some bullshit.

"Please, have a seat. Take a look at the menu. We can catch up once we’ve ordered," Alexia told you, confirming your suspicions.

You straightened your shoulders a little, nodding as you slipped into the appropriate persona for the evening, dialed back a few degrees. You might be bitter, but you could bury your feelings and work for your paycheck. You could pretend to be whatever vague recollection Alexia had of the “friend” she left behind. Alexia, to your surprise, frowned.

"Don’t do that. I want it to be us. No bullshit," Alexia told you as she returned to her own seat, a plush chair directly across from yours at the table for two.

You could keep it up. If you dropped the persona, you might end up just cursing Alexia out, and you couldn't risk that before you had collected your fee. Alexia continued to surprise you, sending you a pleading look when you didn’t relax for her.

"Why the fuck did you hire me, Alexia?" you had to ask as you slid into your seat, unable to hold it back any longer.

It had been more than 10 years with no phone call, no lyrics vaguely directed at you, no allusion to missing someone in the press. You would watch interviews, hoping for a hidden sign Alexia never gave. You could guess that Alexia was sick of fame leeches and she basically said as much in her retirement announcement, but Alexia wasn’t ready to deal with no bullshit you anymore.

No bullshit you were hurt and angry at being utterly abandoned by the one person you thought actually gave a shit about you, much less saw you for who you were. You raised an eyebrow, expecting Alexia to take back her "no bullshit" immediately. To your surprise, Alexia lit up, smiling as she relaxed back into her seat.

"How has your week been?" Alexia asked, smiling easily.

She was really smiling, not the fake PR smile you usually saw her give. You shifted a bit uncomfortably as you flipped open your menu, if only to have something to do. You were good at this because you were a good actress and liar; you hadn't anticipated Alexia wanting honesty, and you were not sure you really remembered how to give it.

"Good," you finally responded, despite how it was a lie.

Alexia frowned, deflating a little. You sighed, looking away. That was supposed to be a test, and Alexia was supposed to fail it. She was not supposed to actually want honesty, or to be able to tell that you weren't giving it.

You accepted a long time ago that fame had changed Alexia; she gave fake smiles to every camera, and she dressed in clothes that cost more than a car. You weren't sure what to do with the knowledge that, despite everything, Alexia still knew you. She wasn’t willing to call, but she apparently hung onto the knowledge of your calls for some reason.

"What do you really want from this? The request was blank, Alexia. I know you must have no idea how this works but usually I’m an unlicensed therapist for my clients that will also stroke their egos," you told her, carefully looking to the left at a gently swaying plant decorating the corner of the room. It was an orchid, healthy and vibrant.

There was a moment of silence.

"I want to catch up. I never thought I’d see you again. We can talk business after," Alexia said softly.

Your eyes snapped to Alexia. There was a lot to unpack there. What business Alexia wanted to talk about probably should be at the forefront of your mind, but "I never thought I’d see you again" was ringing far too loudly in your ears for any other thoughts.

"You know, there is a solution to that and I was trying to reach out even once before I turned eighteen. You knew where I fucking lived, Alexia," you told her, slumping back in your seat a little. Alexia’s eyes went wide, and you flinched.

You hadn't even collected your fee yet, despite your policy being upfront payments, and you let your bitterness get the best of you.At least the deposit would more than cover your cab ride back; you were probably going to be forced to call one in the next five minutes when Alexia decided this wasn't what she wanted. She already decided she didn’t want you once anyway. You weren't really expecting things to be different this time around.

Alexia swallowed, staring at you with blatant surprise.

"I did," Alexia protested, her voice a little weak.

You stilled, your gaze boring into Alexia’s as you searched for the lie. You didn’t find it. Alexia just looked sad.

"A few weeks after I got into Barçs, my manager let me call the school. Someone told me that you got in trouble after I left and were transferred to a home for troubled youth. She couldn’t legally give out details because you were a minor," Alexia explained, her voice a little unsure, almost like she didn’t believe the words she was saying anymore.

That absolutely sounded like a lie they would tell, but you couldn't believe that Alexia just accepted it unless she wanted to find a reason to leave you behind.

"You fucking fell for that? I was there until I aged out at eighteen, Alexia," you asked, despite how you knew it wasn’t fair.

Alexia was always gullible. Her expression crumpled, and your breath stopped short when you saw tears had pricked at the corner of Alexia’s eyes. You forced yourself to draw in a deep breath and blow it out slowly.

Alexia didn’t really have any choice but to believe them. It was just easier to stay mad than to deal with the fact that both of you were powerless back then. Alexia had a family, money, and fame, but you had suspected for a long time how little agency Alexia gained when she signed for Barça.

“I assumed she pinned something on you so she could get rid of you. She let me call because she knew I missed you but once she heard you were gone, that only made things easier for her. Everybody was telling me you were gone," Alexia told you.

You blinked at her across the table, your leg thumping a nervous rhythm against the seat.

It still hurt, it was going to keep feeling raw for a long time, you suspected, but Alexia did try. Alexia thought about you, wondering if she would get to see you again. You had been mad at Alexia for loving and leaving you for so many years. Not an ounce of that anger dissipated with Alexia’s words. You swallowed, sitting forward in your seat.

"Let’s try this again?" you asked, your voice quiet. Alexia looked a little heartbroken still, but she nodded.

The damage had been done; it would be hard for it to go away in one conversation after more than a decade of feeling this way, but the hurt was a little eased, and now that you knew Alexia reached out, you wanted to take the chance to talk to her again. You could work on shifting your anger to the appropriate target later.

Your attitude towards Alexia made a lot more sense now that you’d cleared the air a little. There was definitely more to catch up on there, but you had actually relaxed now. You picked out your meals together. When you had both chosen something, Alexia tried to subtly encourage you towards the lobster and felt satisfied when you agreed to try it despite cringing at the price tag, you rang the bell for the waiter so they could deliver your orders.

As the waiter left with your menus under his arm, Alexia pulled out her phone, laying it on the table so you could see her screen without asking, as Alexia sent the rest of the payment over using her banking app. You flushed as she did so, but you nodded and leaned back in your seat as Alexia slid her phone away into her pocket.

"Tell me what you’ve really been up to in the last fifteen years?" Alexia requested, trying to move past the awkwardness of how she set up this meeting.

You were going to get there eventually, even worse, you were going to get her proposal eventually, but for the moment, she really just wanted to meet the girl she lost so many years ago. Your eyes twitched, your cheeks dusted pink, but you launched into an abridged explanation.

"I was at home for most of high school. I was able to go to a college upstate for free. I fell into the political science program somewhere along the way," you explained.

Alexia nodded, your conversation falling into a lull as your waiter arrived with the complimentary opening dish while you waited for your real meals. Your eyes went wide when you realized it was crab cakes.

Alexia specifically picked this place because of its amazing seafood, in addition to the privacy. She grinned at you as she popped one in her mouth. You rolled your eyes, but you practically melted when you took a bite yourself, a low hum of contentment escaping your lips that had Alexia gasping and you blushing furiously.

"Not a word," you hissed, flustered, even as you took another bite.

Alexia mimed zipping her lips shut, but she couldn't help but stare at you, relaxed and a visible warmth spreading through you across from her, your eyes soft and slightly unfocused with pleasure as you blinked slowly, looking between the food on the table and Alexia. Alexia knew that happiness was for the delicate crab cakes, but she was willing to let herself have a brief delusion.

"Tell me about undergrad," Alexia requested.

Your website mentioned you were a law student under your "conversation topics" header. You paused, taking another bite as you considered it.

"I took an obscure political elective freshman year, and somehow that just turned into my major. By junior year, I was looking into law school after graduation since political science doesn’t have a lot of job opportunities, but, well, I needed money to pay for it," you explained with a shrug.

Alexia nodded, trying to keep her expression neutral. From the way you shifted uncomfortably and looked away, she knew you had failed. Alexia leaned back in her seat. She had begun to lean on the table as you talked, naturally swaying closer to you.

"You're comfortable? And safe?" Alexia had to ask. You scowled a little, still looking away as you folded your arms. Your fingers drummed restlessly against your bicep.

"I can more than defend myself, Alexia. I have rules, and if a client doesn’t respect them, that's why I make them pay up front," you told her.

Alexia hated that answer because it meant that clients hadn’t respected them in the past, but she already knew that was an inevitability in this line of work. Your fingers dug into your biceps, a sharp, almost defensive posture in the dim mood lighting as you gripped your crossed arms. Alexia sighed.

"Some of the charities I work with are dedicated to supporting sex workers. I know it is a job, even if I worry about the risks," Alexia offered, as diplomatically as she could. She didn’t know if you even went that far with clients, but she would bet some clients had tried. Besides, if you were willing to agree to her proposal at the end of the night, it wouldn’t matter.

"I know you, Alexia. I don’t need saving or whatever else you’re thinking right now. This line of work has the best pay for the lowest time commitment, and the hours don’t conflict with my classes. I don’t want pity. I’m happy with my job," you told her, shrugging a little with your arms still crossed. Alexia winced. The thing was, yes, part of Alexia was trying to get you to quit, but she also very much wasn't.

Alexia had been miserable for the last decade, but she had more money than she knew what to do with, and she felt guilty that you had to deal with unwanted come-ons from clients while Alexia was settled in her penthouse. Still, she wasn’t coming at this from a place of judgment.

The idea was there before she even met you again.

"I never said you weren’t happy? Look, I didn’t exactly know how else to get in contact with you. This isn’t…. I’m not trying to save you, I’m trying to hire you," Alexia returned.

She knew the judgment you had to have faced about your job, but she would have thought the fact that she had already hired you for the night would make it clear she wasn’t judging you for that.

Your brows furrowed, and your lips parted slightly. You finally turned your head to look Alexia in the eye again, your expression confused. Alexia could see the disbelief written across your face.

"I don’t believe you," you told her, your expression challenging.

It wasn’t ideal, but Alexia felt herself smiling as she relaxed in her chair again. Despite not believing her, you were not defensive now, although you seemed confused by Alexia smiling.

"I missed the hell out of you," Alexia explained, shaking her head a little, all fondness, but she didn’t care how obvious she was.

"We’ll catch up, eat dinner, and then we can talk about what I actually want to hire you for, okay? If it makes you uncomfortable, you can just leave then," Alexia offered, gesturing at the table between them. In truth, she couldn't stand scaring you off so soon, but she also didn't want to make you feel trapped.

You considered her for a long moment.

"Fine," you agreed with a sigh, like you were doing Alexia a favor. Alexia just beamed at you.

There was no reality in which the Alexia you knew would actually be okay with defining you as a sex worker in her head, but it had been fifteen years. You thought fame had changed Alexia, but even if it turned out Alexia wasn’t a stuck-up prick who forgot you, there were still differences. As you talked, sharing stories from undergrad and law school while Alexia gave anecdotes of the moments from her life that didn’t make it into the tabloids, you discovered a more disillusioned Alexia than you once knew. She was far from cynical, but the absolute innocence she had was gone.

Maybe that should be expected, but her innocence managed to hang on through all the abuse she endured, so it still surprised you. None of the stories Alexia offered had anything to do with her football career achievements. Just as you didn’t mention your night job, Alexia didn’t mention her day job.

"Tell me about what you do now," you prompted softly, as dinner was winding down.

Alexia blinked in surprise, pulling out of the reverie of the story she was telling about the day she did a photoshoot on a farm. No part of the story was about the photoshoot; she was mostly gushing about all the animals she got to pet that day. You remembered that photoshoot, and you felt jealous over the goat Alexia was holding in a more candid-style shot.

Alexia paused, glancing out the covered balcony doors. The lights of the city at night could still be seen through the thin curtain. Eventually, she sighed.

“I don't want to complain cause I made all my dreams come true. Being at Barça was everything to me, the dream I'd worked for my whole life, but the biggest issue was my manager pressuring me to leave Barça for a bigger paycheck, even though I loved playing there. It was a huge problem throughout my career. Back then, I worried he might turn me down and destroy everything I was building, especially the 11 foundation," Alexia told you, shrugging. Her expression was conflicted, bitter, and guilty.

Your entire job was to comfort and assure clients, even when you just wanted to tell them to go fuck themselves. You comforted a manager on a dinner date once when he was upset because an employee that he fired called him a bloodsucking leech. You agreed with the employee, but you needed your paycheck, so instead you slid a hand onto his chest and softly murmured to him that he was doing what was good for the company. In this moment, though, you didn’t want to offer empty comfort because you were angry, and not at Alexia.

"That bitch exploited the hell out of you," you told her.

Alexia startled, turning to look at you with wide eyes. After a moment, Alexia relaxed into her seat again, shrugging a little, but at least the guilt was gone from her face. She didn’t want to complain about being famous.

"Maybe. He knew what he was doing when he set up my earnings trust to release at twenty-one instead of eighteen, but he was a decent man. He could have easily kept the money for himself. I mean, he made plenty off of me, don’t get me wrong, but so many child athletes get nothing," Alexia told you, shrugging.

You scoffed, but you didn’t push it. It was still exploitation, but you knew there were far worse ways Alexia’s life could have gone. Still, you had a realization looking at the resigned expression on Alexia’s face.

"I didn’t ask what you used to do, Alexia. I want to know what you do now. What makes you happy?" you settled on saying.

Alexia let out a breath, sending you a look bordering on thankful before taking another bite of her food, stalling as she thought her response over.

"The part I did like was the charity work. I also gained a lot of experience from managing my own career, especially over the last two years when I was able to set boundaries with my manager. Now I work for an organization that helps private companies and large donors find charities to work with. We help them decide who to donate to and how much of the donation budget they get, arrange event organization, do their PR promotion, that sort of thing. The charity gala last weekend was one of ours," Alexia told you, shrugging.

You knew Alexia’s official job title; it made its way into the tabloids, but it was the reason you wanted to know. Alexia released a public statement saying the charity work she had managed to do over the years impacted her and led her to this career change, but you knew there was a deeper story to it. Alexia finding it as the one bright spot amongst all the stress made sense.

"I fell into political science because of what I went through in the system. I wanted to change it," you said quietly, offering a piece of yourself in exchange.

Usually, when you did this, it was carefully curated and not necessarily truthful, but this was Alexia. Alexia’s expression softened as she nodded at you from across the table.

"And now? What do you want to do with your law degree?" Alexia prompted you.

You had shared plenty of stories, but you weren't really talking about the future, just how you ended up where you are now. You paused, looking down at your empty plate. Alexia’s was basically empty too, you were just talking now, all courses finished with the possible exception of dessert. Technically, dinner was over. It didn’t feel like stalling, but it probably was.

You had relaxed a lot over the course of dinner. You had suspected in the past that Alexia wasn’t given a choice in contacting you, either by her manager or by her sister, but often you pushed it aside in favor of bitterness. It was easier to be mad than to acknowledge how hopeless your positions had been. Now that you had it confirmed, you found talking with Alexia surprisingly easy, despite your bitterness and the matter of business hanging over you.

"At first, I wanted to fight the system from the inside, but those cases don’t pay well, and they’re depressing. I switched to focus on civil suits. I graduated with my J.D. in May, but since I changed focus, I want to go for an extra year to get my master of Laws degree so I can really focus on it before taking the bar," you told Alexia, shrugging.

You expected it to go flying over Alexia’s head, but she seemed to follow well enough, nodding along as you spoke. You shifted a little in your seat. You could keep talking all night, probably, which was the last thing you expected when you walked into the restaurant a few hours ago, but you still had a question.

"What is the business you wanted to talk about?" you asked. Alexia immediately winced, looking off to the side. Her eyes caught sight of the bell to call the waiter, and lit up.

"Do you want dessert?" Alexia asked, already leaning for the bell. You scoffed.

"No and you’re stalling," you returned. The fact that most desserts were heavy in sugar and thus inedible for you hardly registered on your list of reasons for declining. Alexia sighed, dropping her hand to instead fidget with her fork.

"You know, I get proposed to a couple times a year? And the amount of guys who hit on me thinking they’ll be the exception…just don’t get me started. The tabloids are the worst part. I can’t have lunch with a friend without there being all these predatory articles written about us together," Alexia rambled, waving her hands vaguely.

You cocked your head, looking between Alexia’s waving hands and her pinched brows. Alexia caught your expression, flushing and looking away. She drew in a deep breath.

"I want to pay you to be my girlfriend," Alexia finally admitted.

You were staring at Alexia. She flushed harder, hunching down in her seat a little.

There were a thousand ways to word it that didn’t make it sound like that, but Alexia kind of got caught up in herself this evening. It sounded like she meant it because she did. You and Alexia still clicked the way you used to. The whole thing was supposed to be fake, at least it was when her manager proposed it, but now Alexia was envisioning more than a few public dates.

Now, the idea of you kissing her because you were paid to was almost bad enough to outweigh how badly she wanted to kiss you, but it wasn’t, and she was still making the offer. You were just staring, though, all but gaping at her in surprise.

"Like, a sugar mommy thing? I can’t date anyone. I have yet to find someone who actually gave a shit about me. I know the speculation about my love life will never stop entirely, but it is starting to affect my business now. There were rumors about a charity getting a grant because I was sleeping with their director. I’ve never even met her, but the media found out she was a lesbian and decided she was my type. That was an uncomfortable meeting with my boss," Alexia explained, slumping a little in her seat.

You were still staring at her, Alexia bit her lip.

"I’m not trying to save you, that’s not what this is. The idea of hiring someone was floated during a PR meeting, and then I ran into you, and… I wasn’t comfortable with it, but I could be with you. I’d pay you each week, and you would still have plenty of time to focus on your studies," Alexia tried. All she knew to do was dig herself deeper into a hole as she waited for your reply.

You finally managed to close your mouth, which had fallen open in shock. You were still staring at Alexia, though. Alexia fidgeted with her napkin, laid across her lap to cover the expensive dress she was wearing. Looking down was easier than looking at you. All she could hope was that when you said no, you were still willing to talk to her again. Maybe you could go the rest of your lives without mentioning the time when Alexia was so desperate to stop the media from hounding her that she tried to pay you to kiss her in public.

"You can’t act to save your life, Alexia. You barely manage a PR smile. How the hell do you think this would work?" you asked.

Alexia flushed, chancing a glance up to find you still staring at her, but at least the shock seemed to be wearing off now, even if the confusion hadn’t faded.

"I know I can’t act, that’s why it has to be you. Someone I actually click with. I would be dating you, not you with a contact lens and whatever the hell you did to your hair at the charity gala. You would have to take down your website or the media would find it, but I know a hacker who can take care of it," Alexia explained, still fidgeting, but watching your face closely.

You flushed, your gaze darting away as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair.

"You know this just sounds like a ploy to get me out of sex work, right?" you returned. Alexia paused. At least you didn't sound mad.

"You know I’m hiring you for sex work, right?" Alexia shot back.

You huffed, sending her an annoyed glare. For some reason, seeing you tense, your shoulders squaring in defiance, relaxed Alexia. You weren’t calling her a creep at least, even though she was having to dig this hole even deeper just to get you to believe her. You bit your lip, narrowing your eyes out the window.

"I’m not saying yes tonight," you settled on saying.

Alexia let out a slow breath, nodding and forcing her body to relax. It wasn’t a no, and moreover, it wasn’t a ‘get out of my life.’

"You have my number. Think about it. If you’re interested, we can meet up at my place to talk about the details. And…" she cut off, her gaze darting away as she took a breath to rally herself,

"I’ve missed you a lot. I want to be friends again, even if you don’t want to do that," Alexia told you, looking back at you sheepishly. To her disappointment, your face fell.

"I use the contact and the fake name to avoid people knowing about this once I start practicing, Alexia. If I were spotted with you, people might still find my website no matter how I’m dressed. I’d be ruined before I even took the bar," you told her.

Alexia did her best to stamp down on the heartbreak that flared at that, but she knew she had failed from the way you winced.

"Right, of course. I don’t want to do anything that endangers your future," Alexia managed to agree, though she had to force it out in her business voice.

Alexia looked away, glancing towards the clock on the wall as she did so. She kind of wanted to go to her car to cry now.

"Alexia, I do want to talk again, it’s just.. hard with the media," you told her, softly. Alexia let out a slow breath, her gaze still fixed on the clock.

"Trust me, I know. That’s the whole reason I ended up here. I can’t trust anyone to actually want something to do with me. The best I have is other celebrities but even then, you don’t know if they’re just trying to boost their own careers until it is too late," Alexia returned, bitterness in her voice.

“You were right.” She forced down her unwarranted hurt. If you could get over thinking Alexia abandoned you, she could accept the real reason you were turning her down.

After a moment more of gathering herself, Alexia looked back at you. You looked unsure and conflicted. Alexia sighed, reaching for her purse to pull out her phone.

"Let me call you a cab and walk you out? It’s getting late. My driver has probably been here for the last hour," Alexia offered.

You relaxed, nodding a little as you both stood. Alexia followed through, paying for your cab as it pulled away and waving you off with anxiety rioting in her chest. She knew a way to get in contact with you now, at least, and you had her number.

Alexia just had to hope you would call.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community #alexia putellas x reader #woso multi chapter #alexia putellas smut

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stellamarielu · 2 months ago

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thinking about how pope likes having his hair played with... thinking about him maybe having some sort of fixation with hair... pulling on it, threading it through his fingers, braiding it... Lots to unpack here... girl dad! pope jump scare sorry

Him laying with his head on your lap, or on your chest, just for your hands to instinctively migrate to his curls.

Threading your fingers through his hair, and hearing a subtle sigh of relief when he feels you gently scratching his scalp. Following the pattern of each auburn wave with your fingertips, his body still under your touch.

It’s a comfort mechanism, something he never realized he looked for until you became a permanent figure in his life. Now he searches for the solace at the end of a long day— the therapeutic sensation of your fingertips at his scalp. Burrowing his head against your body and waiting for the salvation of your hands gently tugging through his hair.

He offers it back to you. A subconscious bargain of affection when he runs a hand over your hair while you're cooking dinner. Almost petting it while he stands next to you, listening to you talk about your day. Busy playing with it between his fingertips, getting lost in the texture of your hair and the sound of your voice.

He tugs on it gently when you turn to kiss him. tangling his hands in your hair when you break the kiss to let your lips venture down his jaw.

He fixates on it— his ability to weave your hair between his fingers, pulling and molding it however he pleases. Something in the intricacy of each strand coming together at his fingertips to form an unruly bouquet, feeds his body's need to keep his hands busy at all times.

It grounds him. It’s a refined fidgeting that satisfies the restlessness of his hands.

That’s why he thrives off the consistency of routine in doing his daughter's hair almost every morning.

The repetitive nature of it relaxes him. The gentle brushing and braiding of her hair in his hands transports him to a place of innocent peace, as she sits patiently in front of him, watching cartoons and eating breakfast. The pattern of her dark curls are almost identical to his. He lets his hands fall into the same familiar motions, humming his responses as she talks to him about something that happened at recess yesterday. He takes his job very seriously, making sure every hair is in its place before carrying her lunch and backpack to his truck while she follows sweetly behind.

It’s a habit that comes to fruition under vulnerable circumstances. A tender extension of affection saved for the people he loves most.

#i literally cannot stop thinking about this man #i’m so close to writing a multi chapter fic #like the gun is to my head rn #andrew pope cody #animal kingdom #pope cody #pope cody x reader #shawn hatosy #girl dad! pope #stellamarie chats! pope

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noodlesoup1819 · 3 months ago

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i keep coming across these "maomao is raised by lakan and fenxian" au ideas and there's also a criminal lack of consort maomao fics on ao3 so now i've got an idea cooking and i want to brainstorm with yall here

La Mao, consort to the Moon Prince

yapping under the cut because this got long

so lakan finds out fengxien is pregnant before he has to leave so he buys her out, but it's not a good idea to take his pregnant wife with him so he leaves both of them behind.

fengxien, not trusting herself to be a mother on her own (because she herself was raised without a proper motherly influence) finds out that lakan's uncle that he dearly trusts has moved to work in the pleasure district and they live together and maomao still grows up around the brothel and her sisters

maomao still cares for her great uncle/adoptive father much more than she cares for her actual parents and she still grows her love of medicines and poisons, but when lakan returns, she's publicly recognized as his daughter.

knowing that she can't visit the pleasure district without drawing attention if she's recognized as a member of the La clan, so she goes to great lengths to dress up very well when she's recognized as La Mao and she takes great care to be as unassuming as possible elsewhere.

flash forward, maomao overhears rumors about both the imperial children dying (and gets curious) and strange whispers of what the Shi clan might be up to (and wants to keep an eye on things closer than her careless father does) and decides to kill two birds with one stone and asks if there's any way she can enter the rear palace.

Lakan obviously doesn't want to give his daughter to the emperor but there's not exactly a way to sneak her into the palace. So he devises a plan- he'll offer her, not to the emperor, but to the moon prince (who obviously can't visit her often or without great preparation if he wants to pretend to be the enuic of the rear palace.

the emperor knows it's not a good idea to refuse the La clan and he's been wanting to push Jinshi towards becoming the prince again so he accepts.

Jinshi is not amused with this situation but he also can't make an enemy of the La clan

so he makes an appearance as the moon prince the first night she's there and imagine his surprise when this beautiful princess with her parents' cold calculating eyes looks up at him and apologizes that they won't be able to keep each other company tonight.

why not? why she's noticed something odd and it seems someone's attempted to poison the moon prince.

Jinshi watches as she solves the mystery and then pointedly asks if the Moon Prince like to leave after such a scare and also asks if someone would fetch Jinshi after all this is sorted out

so obviously she knows the truth.

by the time 'Jinshi' gets there after taking care of the aftermath of the attempted poisoning maomao's changed into her commoner outfit freckles and all and explains that if he lets her do as she pleases she won't force him back into the role of the moon prince

the series then ensues, but with maomao playing a sort of double role as both La Mao (pretend) consort to the Moon Prince and Maomao, La Mao's lady in waiting.

The only problem is, Jinshi is falling head over heals for Maomao, but he's already agreed that their 'relationship' is just for show...

#do i have the energy to start yet another multi chapter fic?#idk but the idea is cooking #the apothecary diaries #kusuriya no hitorigoto #knh #maomao #consort maomao #lakan #lakan knh #fengxian #fengxian knh #lakan x fengxian #jinshi #jinmao #jinshi x maomao

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bettystonewell · 5 months ago

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TO YOU I BELONG SERIES MASTERLIST

Main Masterlist || On AO3 || On Wattpad

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn’t looking for a mate. Not only does he think he doesn’t deserve one, but the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain’t real. He still has free will, and saving you from monsters is just another part of the job.

The demons in your life, though? They’re closer than he realises, more personal, and his inner alpha won’t let him leave you behind with them. But can Dean embrace everything that comes with claiming someone? 18+ only MDNI

Tags: omegaverse, soulmate AU, pregnancy, strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, SMUT, breeding, claiming, knotting, nesting, angst, fluff, endgame is Dad!Dean (and the parenting skills we all know he has), Protective!Dean, (dual POV), somewhat of a fix-it

WARNING: This story implies/references some potentially triggering topics including domestic abuse, sexual assault, a past miscarriage (chemical pregnancy), and follows the journey of how the characters deal with it. Please consider these carefully before reading. I can’t stress this enough!

A/N: This all started out as a one shot idea of Dean playing with kids and nerf guns. That one shot hasn’t been written yet because my brain wanted to know where the kids came from, but Dean will get his hands on a nerf gun in this fic.

uploading weekly on Fridays 🇦🇺🕕

Chapter 1 - Yearning

Chapter 2 - Harbouring

Chapter 3 - Confronting

Chapter 4 - Familiarising

Chapter 5 - Languishing

Chapter 6 - Domesticating

Chapter 7 - Honeydaying

Chapter 8 - Disconcerting

Chapter 9 - Ruminating

Chapter 10 - Saddling

Chapter 11 - Containment

Chapter 12 - Sentiment

Chapter 13 - Derisionment

Chapter 14 - Announcement

Chapter 15 - Disappointment

Chapter 16 - Ligament

Chapter 17 - Retirement (working title)

Chapter 18 -

Chapter 19 -

Chapter 20 -

TIMESTAMPS TBA

EXTRAS/RELATED

Writing Game Snippet

100 Followers Celebration Sneak Peak

WIP WEDNESDAY (20/02) Chapter 16

Please Remember folks, abuse isn’t always physical. It’s also not easy to admit when you’re going through it, or sometimes even realise. Look after yourselves, and keep an eye out for signs from those you love. ❤️

If you'd like to be tagged in this series or any of my other works, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

I’ll be tagging all the lovely people signed up for my DEAN TAGLIST too, of course 🥰

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pedroscurls · 3 months ago

Text

feels like home

PART 1: SOMETHIN' IN YOUR EYES

summary: joel meets the new bartender at the tipsy bison and finds himself opening up in ways he didn't think was possible anymore.

pairing: jackson!joel x fem!reader content warning(s): alcohol consumption, age gap (joel is in 50s, reader is in 30s), mutual attraction/pining, joel calls you darlin' and angel, mention of death/grief, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n. word count: 4.3k a/n: it's been a very long time since i've written a multi-chaptered fic, but the song feels like home has consumed my thoughts and made me think about joel, so i had to write a story about it. the song will be a constant theme through this story, so please stay tuned and if you wanna give it a listen, it makes the reading experience even better <3 song: feels like home by randy newman (jørgen dahl moe cover) part 2. | series masterlist.

somethin’ in your eyes, makes me want to lose myself makes me want to lose myself, in your arms

When Joel arrived in Jackson with Ellie for the first time, it felt like a dream. It was a glimpse of what the world used to be before the outbreak and right in the middle of it was Tommy. The plan was to never stay in Jackson—he had promised Ellie he would take her to the Fireflies—but after Salt Lake City, Joel knew that Jackson was the only place that could give Ellie a sense of normalcy in an otherwise fucked up world.

At first, Ellie had a hard time adjusting to Jackson. She had been on edge—after all, the young girl only ever knew about quarantine zones and FEDRA. Everything about Jackson felt too good to be true and she struggled to accept the fact that she deserved to be here. Ellie believed that her main purpose in this life was to cure the sickness that took over this world, but now it no longer was possible. She felt like she failed—the same way she failed Sam. So when Joel decided that Jackson was going to be the place they’d spend the rest of their days at, she battled with the possibility of living a different life than what other people had told her.

But then she met Jesse. Cat. Dina. Ellie had established her own community with people her age and finally, she felt hopeful—optimistic. Maybe she could find another way to make her life matter.

Joel, on the other hand, had made the conscious decision to keep to himself. He knew that he didn’t need anyone else other than Ellie, Tommy, Maria, and Benjamin. If people around the community needed help, Joel wouldn’t hesitate to offer his assistance—as long as he was capable—but that was the extent of his socializing. It was purely transactional. There’s a part of him that wishes he can open himself up in a way that Ellie has—even in a way that Tommy and Maria have—but he knows that there’s a fear that lingers in the pit of his stomach. He lost Sarah. He lost Tess.

And he almost lost Ellie.

Joel can’t let anyone else in, can’t let anyone get too close because there’s still the reality that not everyday is a guarantee. It gnaws at him—persistent, ever-present—that he can’t get too comfortable. Jackson provides a sense of security, a sense of safety but he knows… Joel knows that anything can happen. If he lets another person in—if he opens his heart and lowers his guard—there’s a strong possibility that his world will shatter all over again.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to socialize,” Tommy says, watching Joel hold Benjamin in his arms. The baby wiggles and for a fleeting moment, Tommy sees the same man that held Sarah for the first time.

“Now why would I do that?” Joel asks, bringing his free hand to Benjamin's face. The baby gurgles and reaches up to grip Joel’s finger in his tiny hand. “I got all that I need right here.”

“Joel, come on.” Tommy shakes his head.

“M’fine, Tommy. I got Ellie. Got you and Maria, and this little guy, too.”

“Don’t it get lonely, Joel?”

Joel’s jaw tightens. Tommy notices. “Ain’t lonely.”

Tommy sighs. “Ellie’s worried about you.”

Joel takes his eyes away from Benjamin to look over at Tommy. His eyes soften instantly and he leans back against the couch, slowly rocking the baby in his arms. “She shouldn’t be.”

“But she is,” Tommy responds. “She’s getting to that age where she’s gonna want to spend more time with her friends and less time with you.”

“M’fine,” he repeats. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Joel…” Tommy says quietly. “At least have some fun.”

“Fun?” Joel arches a brow.

“Yeah, you know… Get laid or somethin’.”

Joel lets out a quiet chuckle and shakes his head. “Ain’t talkin’ with you about this.”

“Oh please,” Tommy rolls his eyes. “You have eyes. So many women around here would love to get a chance with the mysterious Joel Miller,” he smirks.

Joel gently takes his hand away from Benjamin's grip to reach for a throw pillow, chucking it in the direction of his younger brother. Tommy easily dodges the pillow and both men erupt in quiet laughter. Maria descends the stairs and smiles in both directions before Joel stands and gently hands her Benjamin. The baby immediately curls against Maria and he chuckles. “He’s a mama’s boy, ain’t he?”

“He’s got a soft spot for daddy,” Tommy laughs. He stands from the couch and walks over to Maria. He places a hand on her lower back and presses a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Joel and I are gonna head to the Tipsy Bison. Want me to grab some food on my way back?”

Maria shakes his head. “It’s okay, baby. Gonna make some soup.”

Tommy nods and then glances over at Joel, grinning. “We’re going to the Tipsy Bison.”

“Didn’t tell me that.”

“Just did.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “One drink, that’s all.”

Tommy nods, clasping his older brother’s shoulders. “One drink,” he grins.

Joel walks alongside Tommy, hands moving into his pockets. He can hear the chatter coming from inside the bar and when he steps inside, it becomes too much all at once. Tommy leads him to two seats at the counter and Joel sits down immediately, nodding once in Tommy’s direction.

“Go on then,” he says.

“Just gonna say some hi to some folks,” Tommy replies apologetically. “Then I’ll be back.”

Joel shrugs. “Duty calls, little brother, but after one drink, I’m headin’ home.” He rests his forearms on the edges of the counter, squeezing himself far away from everyone else as possible.

He glances up only to see Seth walk at the opposite end of the bar, but the older man gives him a nod—a signal to let him know that he’s next. Joel’s mind drifts to Ellie—had she really been that worried about him? He sighs to himself, lowers his head and taps his fingers impatiently—anxiously—against the wooden countertop.

Tommy’s words come to mind: Get laid. He scoffs quietly to himself. Joel knows the last time he’s been with anyone intimately was Tess and even then, he couldn’t open himself up in a way that she wanted—he had always been guarded. It worked with Tess because she never pushed; there was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that it would never be more than just sex.

And he’s older now—he can’t just go around the community, hooking up with women just to alleviate the loneliness he feels. Joel would never admit it, but the house does feel more quiet, empty now that Ellie’s in the garage.

Suddenly, he hears a voice that pulls him out of his thoughts. In a loud room filled with chatter and laughter, Joel zeroes in on you. He looks up and sees you quickly make your way to Seth, pulling on a faded, dark green waist apron that you tie around your waist.

“I’m so sorry, Seth,” Joel hears you say. “I overslept and—”

“It’s fine. You’re here now. We got a busy night,” Seth responds. “Can you get Joel?”

Joel’s eyes quickly avert to stare at the decoration that’s hung along the wall, but there’s a pull that he feels in the pit of his stomach. Something he can’t ignore because he glances back in your direction and his eyes meet your own. He clears his throat—there’s something in your eyes that makes all the tension melt away. It’s soft, inviting, welcoming—there’s a sudden sense of calm and peace that washes over him under your gaze.

Then, he sees you smile. You nod at Seth and begin walking in his direction. Joel straightens up in his seat—he can feel his heart beating faster as you approach him. He’s never seen you around Jackson before and he didn’t know that Seth had help here at the Tipsy Bison either—socializing, he can hear Tommy’s voice in his head. If Joel had bothered to socialize, maybe he would have seen you sooner.

“Hi,” you smile, hands resting against the edge of the counter. You’re standing in front of him—eyes still locked with his own. “What can I get you?”

“Just a beer,” he answers. Joel doesn’t return your smile with his own, but you don’t falter. You give him a nod and grab a glass before turning around to pour the beer into his mug. He shouldn’t look—Joel knows he shouldn’t—but he can’t help the way his eyes deviate from your shoulders down to your waist and hips, settling on the nice curves of your plump ass, down your legs and back up. He lets his eyes rake over your frame a few seconds longer before you turn back around, glass filled with beer and the same kind smile on your lips.

“Thank you,” Joel mutters, watching you set the glass right in front of him. “Are you new around here?” He asks.

You shake your head and move to cross your arms over your chest. Joel’s gaze flickers briefly—you’re wearing a v-neck shirt and your movement causes a more prominent showing of cleavage.

“Not in Jackson, but new here at the Tipsy Bison,” you answer. “I teach during the day and then help Seth out at night on some nights.”

“Why?” Joel asks.

You shrug. “Because he needed help… Besides, that’s what Jackson’s all about, isn’t it?”

Joel lets the corner of his lips turn upwards—he knew exactly what you meant. He liked feeling useful, liked to keep busy by helping people around the town too. “Yeah, yeah guess you’re right. I’m Joel.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” you grin. There’s a glint of mischief in your eyes—like you know something he doesn’t.

Joel arches a brow. “Huh. What’s with that look?”

“Nothing.”

“Ain’t look like nothin’ to me.” Joel answers, lifting the glass of beer to his lips and taking a swig of the contents.

“You just—” Joel sees you bite your lower lip nervously as he watches your eyes move towards the length of his neck, down to his throat when he swallows. “A lot of women like to talk, that’s all.”

“Yeah?” Joel smirks. “And what do they say, darlin’?”

You narrow your eyes and lean forward—almost in his personal space, but not quite. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Miller.” Then, you step back and wink at him. Before he can even say a word, you turn on your heel to help the other patrons who had been flagging you down to get their order. Joel watches you carefully, sees you glance over your shoulder in his direction. Your eyes meet his again and Joel feels that same calmness wash over him. He didn’t even get a chance to ask you for your name.

Tommy breaks him out of his thoughts by plopping down on the barstool next to him. When he waves his hand, it’s Seth that comes by to take the other man’s order—a glass of scotch, neat.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to Joel.

“All good,” Joel answers. “Hey, I didn’t know that Seth got some help runnin’ this place.”

Tommy arches a brow and then glances at Joel before his eyes sweep the area—until they land on you. Then, a knowing smirk lines his lips as he brings the glass up to his lips.

“If you’d come out more often, you’d know.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What’s her name?”

Tommy chuckles. “You tellin’ me you didn’t ask her?”

“Was gonna,” Joel mutters under his breath. “But she got busy.”

“Well then,” the younger man winks. “That’s your homework for tonight.”

Joel scoffs and gently shoves Tommy. “Get outta here.”

Tommy laughs quietly and sets the glass down back on the counter. “Come on, Joel. She keeps looking over here at you. Have some fun.”

Joel looks over at you and catches your stare. You bite your lower lip again. Under his gaze, you feel your cheeks heat up and spread along your chest and neck. You try to busy yourself, but you can’t help the tug you feel in your chest—like an invisible string tying you to him, a reminder that he’s just right there.

“Maybe,” Joel finally says. “Maybe.”

Tommy grins broadly and clinks his glass with Joel’s. “Attaboy. ‘Sides, I think she’d be good for you. She’ll certainly keep you on your toes, that’s for sure.”

Joel looks away from you and turns to Tommy, curiosity spread across his features. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Guess there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Tommy chuckles.

“You’re annoying. Talkin’ in riddles and shit,” Joel shakes his head.

“All I’m sayin’,” Tommy smiles. “Is that you deserve to have some fun… and so does she.”

“Right,” Joel replies. He takes another swig of his beer and sets his now empty glass on the counter. He’s about to stand up when you appear right in front of both the Miller brothers. Tommy nods your way, smiling politely and kindly like he usually does. You return the smile, but when your eyes move to Joel’s, it’s like you’re rooted where you stand.

“Need another refill?” You ask.

Joel shakes his head. “One’s enough, darlin’. Thank you though.”

“Oh,” you reply—disappointment in your tone. “Well, have a good night, Joel.”

You turn around and Tommy nudges Joel, his arm shoving against the older man’s—a gentle reminder for him to ask your name. It’s a gentle push of encouragement. Joel sighs inaudibly and stands up, quietly calling out to you, “Wait, hey…”

You turn around instantly and look up at him—biting that lower lip again that Joel suddenly feels the urge to do himself. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

A bright smile lines your lips and you answer, telling him your name. Joel smiles to himself and he nods, pocketing both hands into his jeans. “Nice to meet you, darlin’.”

“Hope I get to see you around here more often, Joel.” There’s a hopeful tone in your voice and neither of you bother to even break eye contact. Tommy’s watching this interaction unfold with excitement because finally, you might be the reason to help Joel see that there is more to this life than what he had gotten used to.

“As long as you’re here, maybe,” Joel smiles, nodding once in your direction before he breaks the gaze to look at Tommy.

“Good night, big brother,” Tommy winks.

“Night,” Joel answers, hand coming up to clasp the younger man’s shoulder. He squeezes once before he turns on his heel to leave the building, but not before he spares another glance at you.

Joel sits at his workbench later that night, staring at the unfinished guitar he was working on. It’s late and he knows Ellie’s at Dina’s for the night. Tommy’s words echo in his mind as his hand brushes along the wood.

Don’t it get lonely, Joel?

Joel sighs and stands from the stool. It is lonely. It has been lonely, but the fear of opening himself up to let someone in is far too risky.

Then, his mind drifts to the brief interaction with you. There had been something in your eyes that pulled him in and made him want to stay. You had a way of making all of the noise disappear—that with one look, he felt like he could breathe.

The Tipsy Bison is closing soon and Joel doesn’t hesitate to grab his coat and leave his home. He doesn’t give himself enough time to talk himself out of it because Tommy’s right. He does deserve to have some fun—it doesn’t need to be serious, he tells himself.

After a few minutes, Joel steps inside and revels in the quiet. He glances around, notices a few lingering patrons that are sitting at the counter. He wonders if they have the same thoughts that usually keep him up at night. Then, Joel sees you in his peripheral. You’re wiping down the tables, extremely focused as you move throughout the area. Joel clears his throat and walks over to you. He watches your gaze move from the table and up at him—suddenly, a smile lines your lips.

“Joel,” you say quietly.

“Hi,” he replies—barely above a whisper. He points to the towel in your hand and asks, “You need some help?”

“Oh,” you answer, shocked. “You don’t have to. I got this and—”

Joel shakes his head and then gently reaches out to take the towel from your hands. “That’s what Jackson is all about, ain’t it?” He grins, winking in your direction.

“Yeah,” you bite your lower lip and nod. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, angel.” Joel then moves to the other tables that you hadn’t yet cleaned and you watch him for a moment. He had removed his coat and draped it over a vacant barstool. You watch his strong arms move across the table—muscles flexing through the white t-shirt he’s wearing.

You’ve heard women talk about him, have even heard some stories from some men too, but there was just something about Joel that you wanted to get to know. The women found him attractive—stoic, quiet, mysterious. The men were intimidated by him—stories from his past coming to light.

You watch the fabric of his shirt stretch over his broad back and when he rests one hand on the table to brace himself while he reaches for the top of it, you watch as the shirt rides up slowly to reveal the waistband of his boxers and jeans. You clear your throat, turning around quickly to retrieve another towel.

Seth had left for the night, leaving it up to you to close. You didn’t mind though—it gets very lonely in your home. It’s one of the reasons why you offered to help him out because when you’re alone, especially at night, the lingering thoughts start to surface. Being around other people, busying yourself, helps keep those thoughts at bay.

When you dampen the towel with water, you walk back over to Joel and begin wiping it down. Joel glances up at you and he smiles—big enough for you to see the dimple that appears on his cheek.

You look away for a moment to see the last couple of people leave—now just you and Joel alone.

“So,” he says quietly. “Teacher, huh?”

“It was either teaching or cooking,” you laugh quietly. “And I don’t want you all to suffer from my cooking.”

Joel lets out a quiet chuckle. “Not much of a cook?”

“God, no. Everything I seem to make either burns or is bland as shit.”

Joel’s laughter becomes louder now—he feels lighter around you, like all of the problems of the world no longer rest on his shoulders. “Can’t say I’m any different.”

“No?” You smile, moving to the table nearby. Joel follows you, standing on the other end.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Before all of this,” Joel begins, waving his hand in the air. “My baby girl used to cook for me.” When he looks at you, you’re staring at him with the softest eyes—it makes him feel like it’s okay to talk about Sarah. “My daughter, she was…” he bites his lower lip. “She was the best.”

You stop wiping the table and walk around to stand next to him. Gently, you rest a hand on his shoulder and you can see the pain etched on his features. You can feel the tension in his body. “Yeah? What would she cook for you?”

Joel relaxes under your touch. “Anything. Everything. Most nights, I’d come home late because I was workin’. She’d be there when I’d get home—food on a plate on our dining table. Would say you’re late dad, but you need to eat.” Tears sting his eyes. “She took care of me… when I should’ve been taking care of her.”

Slowly, you bring him to sit down on the chair and you sir across from him. Your hand moves from his shoulder to his hand—it’s so much bigger than your own. “I’m sure you did your best,” you say quietly. “And I’m sure she knew that.”

Joel shrugs, doesn’t respond. He’s already said too much—his walls have come down and he isn’t sure what it is about you that makes it so easy.

“Sorry,” Joel mumbles. “We just met and here I am, cryin’ all over you.”

You smile and meet his eyes—Joel can’t help but get lost in your gaze. He’s already thinking and yearning for the next time he gets to see you again.

“I guess I owe you one then, huh?” You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Oh, angel. You don’t have to—”

You squeeze his hand and shake your head. “I’m always asking people if they need help because it’s hard for me when the world is quiet…” You keep your hand over his but you drop your eyes to the floor. “I like when I’m busy, when I’m around other people because then my mind doesn’t ever get a chance to remind me of all the horrible shit I’ve done or seen.”

Joel sets the towel on the table and rests his hand over your own. He holds it on his lap, thumb brushing along the back of your hand—it’s a subtle gesture to comfort you, to reassure you that he’s here and he’s listening.

Joel nods—he understands completely.

“I had a younger brother,” you tell him. “The world ended when we were so young and our parents were gone before that. He had such a big heart, even in this world. Always wanting to help people, never wanting them to hurt. In the end, it only got him killed.” You bite the inside of your cheek as you slowly pull your hand from Joel’s. “He would have loved Jackson.”

“M’sorry, angel,” Joel whispers, already missing the feel of your hand in his own.

“I’m sorry too,” you reply quietly. “I bet your girl would’ve loved Jackson too.”

Joel nods, smiles sadly and then stands up. “She would have, yeah. Come on. Let’s finish cleanin’ so I can walk you home.”

“You know it’s late right?” You tell him, standing from your chair. “You don’t have to stay this long.”

Joel shrugs. “Guess I also don’t want to give my mind a chance to remind me of all the people I’ve lost, or the things I’ve done either.”

You nod—it’s a shared understanding that only Joel has made you feel. For the rest of the time, both you and Joel clean the tables and the counter of the bar. After about half an hour, you lead him out of the Tipsy Bison and lock the door behind you.

Joel walks alongside you, hands in his pockets as he glances at you repeatedly from the corners of his eyes. He isn’t sure why he even mentioned Sarah—she had always been such a sensitive topic—but he couldn’t help how easy it was with you, how you bring a sense of peace that he hasn’t felt in decades.

He allows you to lead the way and as you both continue to walk in a comfortable silence, Joel feels you slowly move closer to him. He can’t help but smile to himself.

“So,” you begin, glancing up at him.

“So,” he repeats.

“Will I see you again?” You ask—hopeful. “Can I see you again?”

Joel smiles and sees your home come into view. He walks you towards the front door and nods, moving a hand from his pocket to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah, I think that can be arranged.”

“I like talking to you,” you grin—the heat in your cheeks rises once more at the feeling of his touch against your cheek. He drops his hand back to his side.

“Me too. You make all the noise go away,” he admits.

You bite your lower lip and watch as his eyes deviate to your lips—it only makes you feel warmer. “Talking about the hard stuff… it’s easy with you.”

Joel smiles—the dimple appearing yet again on his scruffy cheek. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you answer.

“Good,” Joel says. “Because it’s easy with you too.”

There’s a flicker of excitement that Joel catches in your eyes and it’s contagious—your joy, your happiness. “I haven’t let anyone in,” you whisper quietly. “Not since losing my brother.”

Joel nods in understanding. “Me too,” he whispers. “I almost lost Ellie and I told myself that I didn’t need to open up to anyone else, but then…” he brings his hand back up to your cheek, brushes the pad of thumb across your soft skin. “But then I saw you tonight and there’s just somethin’ in your eyes that makes me feel… Lighter. Calmer.”

You clear your throat quietly and nod—his big, brown eyes are staring directly at you. You had seen Joel around Jackson before and while he never noticed you—too focused to get home or not bothering to make small talk with people he passed by—you couldn’t help but have this strange feeling that he made you feel safe. So when you saw him at the Tipsy Bison tonight and felt his eyes finally meet yours, that feeling of safety just amplified.

Suddenly, you wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek against his chest. You can feel the warmth radiate in the pit of your stomach, can hear the sound of his heart beating. Then, when his strong arms wrap around you as well, you melt into him.

He feels like home.

Joel’s taken by surprise when your arms wrap around him, but his arms waste no time in wrapping itself around you. He feels you lean into him and he shuts his eyes, buries his face against your hair.

You feel like home.

“Good night, Joel,” you whisper against him.

“G’night, angel,” he replies.

taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @probablyreadinsmut @yxtkiwiyxt @brittmb115 @dendulinka6 @missladym1981

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steddie-fanfic-recs · 1 year ago

Text

Maybe 10% Better

by BilbosMom

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tommy Hagan & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, Billy Hargrove Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Protective Tommy Hagan, Tommy Hagan Being an Asshole, Minor Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins, Good Friend Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, POV Tommy Hagan, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Soulmates Words: 38,167 Chapters: 5/5

Summary

That's when Tommy realized he was, like, the worst fucking friend ever. Because Steve was an omega and they had learned in health class that omegas craved physical contact. And Steve, a secret male omega with shitty absentee parents, wasn’t getting any love at home and he couldn't exactly reach out and ask his buddies for some cuddles. No one but Tommy knew about him and Tommy sure as shit hadn't been offering to hold his hand. So now here Steve was, getting a goddamn contact high because he was squished in between Davey Bower, who smelled like ball sweat and Cheetos, and Andrew Floyd, who looked like a fucking toe. But Steve was too blissed out on, like, happy omega hormones to care about that, and Tommy was the shittiest best friend in Hawkins. Goddammit. Tommy was going to have to start giving Steve hugs. He was going to have to give him so many goddamn fucking hugs. When Steve presents as a rare male omega he is forced to hide his status and question his worldview; he learns to be less shallow, more caring, and more open-minded. Tommy Hagan stays loyal to his best friend and is dragged kicking and screaming into being a better person too. Just a little bit, though. Like, maybe 10% better.

#steddie #steddie fic rec #multi-chaptered #25-50k #au omegaverse #omega steve #alpha eddie #au no upside down #au soulmates

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andurasomehow · 2 hours ago

Text

Take The Long Way Home - Kapitel 11

Kapitel 11: It's a Sin Rating: M Genre: bandfic, drama, friendship, romance, adult life, having kids, 50plus Länge: 11/13 Kapitel Inhalt: Als Dies Freundin mit ihm schlussmacht, droht er durch eine einzige von Verzweiflung geprägte Tat alles zu verlieren, inklusive seiner Freiheit. Es ist purer Zufall, dass ihr Bandleader zur richtigen Zeit an der richtigen Stelle ist, um ihm auf die Beine zu helfen. Einfach weil er es kann und Die es braucht. Denn Taten sind in einem gewissen Alter nicht mehr motiviert von Leidenschaft. Richtig? Hier sind Die und Kaoru in dem Alter, wo man bereits gelebt hat. Wo man schon viel erlebt hat. Wo man Dinge bei Weitem nicht mehr heiß kocht. Wo man elterliche Sorgen hat. Wo man Sachen erledigt, weil sie getan werden müssen. Wo man sich selbst vergisst. Wo man manchmal aber auch von Erinnerung geweckt werden kann. Wo man plötzlich doch noch überrascht wird. Wo es noch immer tiefe Geheimnisse zu lüften gilt. Besonders bei Kaoru. Status: Beendet.

Kapitel 11: It's a Sin

Dass Die am nächsten Morgen bereits telefonierte, konnte Kaoru nicht nur bis ins Schlafzimmer hören, sondern auch fast noch unter der Dusche. Offensichtlich waren es einige Gespräche und nichts davon schien besonders freudiger Natur zu sein. Er seufzte und holte dem anderen Mann einen Kaffee, während dieser weiterhin sorgenvoll am Telefon festhing. Noch bevor Kaoru die Chance hatte, sich bemerkbar zu machen, bekam er schon Einiges von diesem Gespräch mit.

„Glaubst du mich zu beleidigen macht’s besser?“, hörte er Die sagen, wobei sein anschließendes Seufzen nah am Wasser klang. „Ja. Ja, ist gut. Du machst alles kaputt. Mich vor allem, aber ist dir ja egal.“

Kaoru musste nicht raten, wer am anderen Ende der Leitung war. Da stand er nun, Kaffee für Die in der Hand, doch sollte er sich nicht eigentlich verbummeln? Er sollte jedenfalls nicht lauschen.

„Ach, lass gut sein.“ Ein frustriertes Stöhnen kam von Die, bevor Stille einkehrte.

Man konnte gut davon ausgehen, dass das Gespräch beendet war, und so traute sich auch Kaoru endlich ins Zimmer. Er reichte mit einem leisen, vorsichtigen Guten Morgen den Kaffee an seinen Freund, der auf dem Bett saß und nach nichts anderem als Verzweiflung ausschaute. Er nahm den Kaffee beinahe widerwillig, so frustriert war er.

Ohne eine andere Wahl musste Kaoru einfach fragen: „Was ist denn los?“

„Ach,“ stieß der andere frustriert aus und winkte mit der freien Hand ab, als sei alles sinnlos. „Sie ist angepisst wegen der Anwaltssache. Hat sie bis gestern offensichtlich nicht gewusst und jetzt verbreitet sie Lügen.“

„Lügen?“ Kaoru wusste nicht genau, wie er reagieren sollte, denn lange nicht mehr erschien Die ihm so extrem verärgert zu sein.

„Nach unserem Besuch gestern, bei dem du ja unbedingt was von einem Anwalt hast erwähnen müssen, hat sie sich offensichtlich schlau gemacht und erfahren, dass ich den nicht nur wegen dem Unfall brauche. Da rief also schon mal der eine Anwalt heute Morgen an und erzählte mir die Neuigkeiten, dass sie eine Stellungnahme zu meiner Klage eingereicht hat. Dabei ließ sie nun Lügen vom Stapel und ich war so zornig, dass ich sie angerufen habe.“ Die machte sich Luft. Die Reihenfolge der Geschehnisse war ihm im Grunde egal, ebenso wie dass er sicher vorwurfsvoll gegenüber einfach jedem klang.

Kaoru konnte kaum folgen und so fiel ihm der Vorwurf gegen ihn selbst nicht einmal unmittelbar auf. „Was denn für Lügen?“

Noch immer war ihm unklar, was Alice erzählt haben konnte. Doch Die sollte ihn gleich darauf aufklären: „Meine Klage begründet sich auf emotionalen Missbrauch von ihr. Musste jetzt nicht lachen, klar? Das resultiert aus dem, was mir der Anwalt geraten hat. Dass sie mir was vorgespielt hat bezüglich der Möglichkeit gemeinsamer Kinder und ich eben drunter leide. Hinzu kam noch, dass sie mich dadurch zum Kauf der Wohnung bewegt hat, sodass sie nun Eigentümerin ist. Um eine Familie zu gründen und so. Es baut aufeinander auf. Wenn du es lesen willst, irgendwo hier habe ich die Klageschrift…“

Er fing an zu kramen, sichtlich aufbracht, doch auch durcheinander und Kaoru stand da, noch immer nicht im Ansatz wissend, welche Lügen sie erzählt hat. „Ich lach nicht. Es ist ja eigentlich die Wahrheit.“

„Genau,“ meinte Die und stoppte so auch seine Sucherei, weil einige Papiere neben ihm auf dem Bett lagen und das stapelweise. Ob er überhaupt noch den Durchblick hatte, war fraglich. „Jedenfalls hat sie nun darauf reagiert und behauptet, ich sei ein Trinker. Also so richtig ein Alkoholiker und dass es deshalb und wegen meines Berufs als Musiker nicht verantwortlich wäre, eine Familie mit mir zu gründen. Kaoru, so bin ich nicht! Das ist Bullshit! Als wäre ich so ein Assi, dem man keine Kinder anvertrauen könnte. Das ist einfach nur fies, weil ich alles andere als das bin.“

Nun war es also soweit und bei diesen Worten änderte sich Dies Gemüt von verärgert auf traurig und verzweifelt. Er kam den Tränen nahe und es war sogar für Kaoru mittlerweile vollkommen nachvollziehbar, denn ausgerechnet dieser Vorwurf ging an Dies Substanz. Trotz allem Musikerlebens war er ganz besonders in der Lage, sich um soziale Gebilde wie eine Familie zu kümmern, ohne dem Suff zu verfallen. Sie hatten ihre Zeiten gehabt, wo sie nicht mehr wussten, in welche Toilette sie zuerst kotzen sollten, doch das war lange vorbei. Anders als Kaoru, der eben mehr zufällig als etwas anderes seine Kinder in die Welt gestoßen hatte, war hier nun Die, der viel vernünftiger mit allem umgegangen war und sich eine Zukunft hatte aufbauen wollen.

Diese vermeintliche Zukunft trat Alice jedoch gerade mit Füßen und sie zerstörte nicht nur diese, sondern eben auch ihren Exfreund, der kaum mehr am Boden hätte sein können als jetzt. Verzweifelt steckte er das Gesicht in seine Handflächen und versuchte wenigstens dieses eine Mal die Tränen zu verstecken.

Was genau Kaoru sagen könnte um zu helfen, wusste er nicht, doch er musste es wenigstens versuchen. „Aber wenn sie das nun so in den Raum stellt, muss es doch nicht wahr sein. Es wird ja von den Anwälten geklärt und es können doch alle möglichen Leute bezeugen, dass du kein Trinker bist. Ich könnte sofort bestätigen, dass du ausgezeichnet mit Kindern umgehen kannst.“

Die zog die Stirn in tiefe Falten und sah den anderen an, als habe er den Kern der ganzen Angelegenheit überhaupt nicht erfasst. „Ah ja? Was willst du denn bezeugen? Dass ich mich benehme in der kurzen Zeit, die ich deine Kinder überhaupt kenne? Während du auch kein Sorgerecht hast und wahrscheinlich gleich mit übern selben Kamm geschoren wirst wie ich.“

Das saß zwar irgendwie bei Kaoru, aber er konnte auch nicht gerade leugnen, dass Die Recht hatte. Letztlich würde seine Aussage vermutlich gar nichts bewirken, da er derselben Leidenschaft frönte. „Dann eben andere als ich?“

„Wer denn, Kaoru?“, fragte der andere und seine Stimme wurde fast ungewohnt hoch. Den Kaffee hatte er schon längst zur Seite gestellt, denn durstig war er wahrlich nicht. „Mit den Menschen, mit denen wir uns privat treffen, machen wir was genau? Ja, richtig, trinken! Und bei mir Zuhause war doch nie jemand. Da kam kein Besuch zu mir und Alice, der bezeugen konnte, dass ich nie besoffen war. Bist ja nicht der Einzige, der darauf keine Lust gehabt hätte.“

Natürlich merkte der Bandleader, dass Die etwas angriffslustig ihm gegenüber war, doch noch einmal schrieb er es dessen Aufgebrachtheit zu. Gerne hätte er das Letzte dementiert, doch nun darauf einzugehen, dass nicht viele Menschen die beiden als Partner gemocht hatten, wäre nicht hilfreich. Einen Moment lang starrte Kaoru also vor sich hin, bevor er wieder etwas sagte: „Dann wurde eben das Trinken ausgelöst davon, dass sie dich an der Nase herumgeführt hat?“

Beinahe genervt schüttelte Die nun den Kopf und winkte ab, bevor er sein Gesicht in die Hände legte. „Du verstehst es nicht. Gebe ich Trinkerei zu, lüge ich! Aber sie werden es alle glauben, weil ich diese Karre besoffen geschrottet hab. Das passt doch zusammen!!“ Er hob den Kopf wieder und das Wasser glänzte nur so in seinen Augen. „Ich bin aber kein Alki.“

Was Kaoru nun verstand, war, dass es nicht mehr um Strategie ging, sondern einfach ums Prinzip. Es ging um Dies Ehre und dass ihn ausgerechnet diese Behauptung kränkte wie kaum eine andere. Diese eine Sache würde er nie von sich selbst behaupten, nicht einmal ginge es um sein Leben.

„Wir lassen uns was einfallen. Irgendwelche Tipps werden die Anwälte doch wohl noch haben?“ Mehr als einen Strohhalm von Zuversicht konnte der Ältere nicht anbieten mit diesen Worten, denn jetzt sofort fiel ihm keine Lösung ein.

Plötzlich schüttelte Die den Kopf, bevor er ihn wieder in seine Hände legte und kläglich seufzte. „Ich mag nicht kämpfen. Das tut alles nur weh. Dann kriegt sie eben die scheiß Wohnung und das Geld werde ich schon auftreiben. Ich kann nicht mehr.“

Ob er wirklich weinte, konnte Kaoru gar nicht sagen. Da stand er nun und wusste selbst auch nicht weiter. Fakt war, dass er sicher war, dass Die noch nicht am Ende seiner Kräfte war, doch nur hier und heute mal am Boden. Nur selbst das zu sehen brach Kaoru schon das eigene Herz. Wie sein Freund da saß mit seinem gebrochenen Bein inmitten einer Wüste von Papieren, verzweifelt und mit gebrochenem Herzen, ließ Kaoru daran denken, dass von ihm aus der andere gerne für immer hierbleiben konnte. Aber ob das wirklich ein Trost wäre? Es war zu langfristig gedacht für die Sorge des Moments, denn um die zu lindern, fanden sich andere Impulse.

Kaoru trat einen Schritt näher und legte zunächst einfach nur seine Hand auf Dies Kopf, als könnte er ihn so bereits beruhigen. Nur nachdem keine Gegenwehr kam, streichelte der ältere Mann sanft darüber und drückte ihn locker an sich. Es war etwas merkwürdig, denn der sitzende Kerl vor ihm hatte sein Gesicht nun mehr oder weniger auf Bauchhöhe im T-Shirt des anderen, der nun beide Hände auf seinen Kopf legte und wirklich sachte und beruhigend darüber streichelte. Vielleicht lag es tatsächlich an Dies schwachem Zustand, dass er sich sofort geborgen fühlte, während seine Nase den Geruch des anderen intensiviert aufnahm. Was angenehm war, denn Kaoru war eine seltsam herbe Mischung mit einem Hauch von Vanille. Es tat gut umarmt zu werden, die Berührungen an seinem Kopf so wohltuend, als wäre da wirklich jemand, der ihn auf dieser Welt liebte.

Die konnte nicht anders, als seine Wange an den anderen zu schmiegen und die Arme um ihn zu schließen, um damit zu zeigen, dass Kaoru alles richtig machte und gebraucht wurde. Er sollte wissen, dass seine Gesten der Zuneigung wie Medizin auf Die wirkten, und so griff dieser beherzt am Rücken ins T-Shirt des anderen Mannes, um ihn in dieser Position zu halten.

Mehr Bestätigung brauchte Kaoru nicht um weiterzumachen, egal wie trunken ihn diese Nähe selbst werden ließ. Dass Die ihn brauchte und das auch physisch, war wie ein unerwarteter Rausch. Er spürte den heißen Atem des anderen an seinem Körper durch den Stoff des Shirts und wie warm er war, obwohl seine Hände beinahe kalt zu sein schienen. Das beste Gefühl war jedoch, gebraucht und gewollt zu sein, etwas zu bewirken und tatsächlich mittels Zuneigung helfen zu können. Kaorus Finger strichen entlang des langen Haars zu Dies Schultern, die sich nur zaghaft unter der Berührung entspannten. Warum auch immer fand eine Hand den Weg über Dies Hals zu seiner Wange, bis Kaorus Daumen sie sanft streicheln konnte, als wäre es die natürlichste Sache der Welt.

Vielleicht war es in geringem Maße seltsam, doch Die wusste, im Grunde dürfte Kaoru alles mit ihm machen, denn alles, was auch immer er tat, tat Die ausschließlich gut. Es war ein wenig, als lösten sich Fesseln in ihm und alle schlechten Gedanken wurden ihm ausgetrieben durch die Haut des rauen Daumens, der plötzlich sogar seine Unterlippe streifte. Impulsiv schaute Die nach oben, sofort im Blick des anderen gefangen. Dies Hand krallte sich noch mehr ins T-Shirt von Kaoru, die Faust gepresst an seinem Rücken, als könnte sie die Bitte äußern, dass er nicht loslassen sollte. Kaoru war nicht klar, warum ihn die Geste so triggerte, doch es war auch schon zu spät. Sein Kopf neigte sich nach unten und seine Lippen legten sich mit dem Hauch einer Berührung auf Dies.

Es war kein Kuss. Es waren Kaorus Lippen auf Dies. Doch seine Augenlieder fielen zu. Diese leichte Berührung ließ ihn an nichts anderes mehr denken. Seine Hände schoben sich an Dies Schultern und auf einmal presste er die Lippen fester auf die des anderen, beinahe verzweifelt, denn verdammt noch einmal wollte er machen, dass es dem anderen wieder gut ging. Als sich die anderen Lippen öffneten und damit eine Einladung hinausging, war da Erleichterung sowohl auch Aufregung. Kaorus Herz pochte gegen seine Rippen, als könnte es sie sprengen. Doch sein Kuss war langsam und zärtlich, ebenso wie seine Hände, die wieder begannen den anderen zu streicheln.

Wie dem Jüngeren geschah, wusste er nicht so recht, nur dass er es brauchte und mochte, was ihm hier widerfuhr. Kaoru konnte machen, dass er sich gut fühlte. Also nahm Die, was er anfänglich so zaghaft bekam, nach und nach etwas gieriger und verlangend auf. Womöglich merkte er selbst auch gar nicht, wie sehr er den anderen zu sich zog, bis Kaoru letztlich tatsächlich in einer fließenden Bewegung auf seinem Schoß platziert war. Ihr Kuss löste sich jedoch nicht, auch wenn es keine stürmischen Zungenspiele waren, sondern vielmehr liebevolle von Zuneigung geprägte Küsse ihrer Lippen.

Er hatte ihm gefehlt, schoss es in Dies Kopf, und wie es ihm klar wurde, umschlossen seine Arme Kaoru noch fester. Sie wanderten seinem Rücken hinauf und umschlossen den festen, doch kleineren Körper. Wie in Zeitlupe strichen sie wieder nach unten und beim nächsten Mal schoben sich die noch immer etwas kalten Handflächen unter dem Stoff des T-Shirts über die nackte Haut des anderen nach oben. Es ging nicht anders. Viel zu lange hatte Die diese Seite an Kaoru nicht mehr bekommen, wie eine Droge, die ihn nach so vielen Jahren einholte.

Was nicht minder beim Bandleader zu vollkommener Begierde führe, sowohl körperlich als auch seelisch. Alle Ängste und Sorgen, die Verantwortung und der Selbstschutz, all das war über Bord gegangen, nicht nur damit sich Die besser fühlte. Nun war es auch Kaoru, der allein von der Erwiderung seiner Handlungen süchtig wurde. Seine Küsse wurden fester, gieriger und leidenschaftlicher, während seine Berührungen all das spiegelten.

Letztlich war es Die, der ihn auf einmal am Shirt packte und ihm dieses über den Kopf hinweg auszog und es zur Seite warf. Kurz darauf waren die Lippen des größeren Mannes in der Halsbeuge des anderen beschäftigt und seine Hände nicht minder verlangend die nackte Haut erforschend. Jetzt war der Punkt, wo man sich schon nicht mehr freiwillig bremsen würde. Einzig eine Störung anderer Natur könnte sie nun noch bremsen und ausgerechnet diese würde Kaoru nicht zulassen wollen. Er zog Die das T-Shirt nach oben über den Kopf und so wie er dabei helfen musste, verließ Kaoru gezielt dessen Schoß.

Etwas verwirrte blickte Die mit seinem Shirt in der Hand ihm nach, doch sah den Bandleader einfach nur die Tür abschließen. Das war ein deutliches Zeichen und Die stieß final das Shirt von seinem Bett, ebenso wie die Papiere, die hier noch herum lagen. Das alles war gerade nur noch egal, während Kaoru auf ihn zukam und sich die Hose öffnete. Dann war es auf einmal da, Dies Grinsen, lang vermisst, doch in Anbetracht seiner Vorfreude nicht zu verstecken. Er bebte regelrecht vor Aufregung und fühlte sich beinahe wie bei ihrem allerersten Mal, wenn nicht die Erfahrenheit ihn heute deutlich selbstsicherer sein ließ. So hatte er schnell selbst die Hände an Kaorus Hose, sobald dieser nah genug an ihn herantrat, und schob sie ihm herunter.

Dass es um ihn geschehen war, wusste der Ältere über sich bereits, aber es wurde noch einmal deutlich, wenn er in dieses vor Vorfreude grinsende Gesicht vor ihm sah. Er musste selbst etwas grinsen und langte auch nach Dies Hosenbund, doch da der Jüngere nach wie vor auf dem Bett saß, fand sich Kaoru schnell auf seinen Knien wieder. Brav hob Die die Hüfte an, damit Kaoru ihn aus seiner Hose und auch den Shorts rausholen konnte. Blöd war nur sein Gipsbein, mit dem der Bandleader etwas länger hantierte. Er fluchte kaum hörbar und Die musste kichern, sodass Kaoru etwas brummte, bevor er mit seiner Hand Die zum Schweigen brachte.

Nach all den Jahren diese beflissenen Finger um seinen Penis zu spüren, ließ Die erschaudern und seine Hände klammerten sich bereits jetzt ins Laken. Sobald er auch noch diese lang vermisste Zunge spürte, konnte er gar nicht anders, als zu stöhnen. Fast war es peinlich, denn offenbar konnte er noch genauso rallig sein wie vor über 20 Jahren. Es war aber kein Wunder, denn dieser feuchte Mund hatte wahrscheinlich noch mehr Übung und Die genoss einfach, der Empfänger dieser trainierten Fähigkeiten zu sein. Er strich sachte über die zusammengebundenen Haare des anderen und erfreute sich der wendigen Zunge, die ihn nach wie vor beinahe kaltstellte.

Nichts desto trotz war Die keine 25 Jahre alt mehr und er würde heute nicht mehr vor seiner Zeit kommen. Stattdessen packte er irgendwann Kaoru im Nacken und ließ ihn alle Handlungen stoppen. Ihr Blicke trafen sich und Die sah ihn so fordernd an, wie er sich fühlte.

„Komm her.“ Nur zwei Worte verließen seine Lippen und Kaoru befolgte den Wunsch sogleich, indem er aufstand.

Zwei große Hände erwarteten ihn bereits, um die Unterhose von seinen Hüften zu streifen, bevor Die ihn direkt am Gesäß packte und daran zu sich zog. Unmittelbar landete Kaoru wieder auf dem Schoß des anderen, deine Knie links und rechts von seinen Oberschenkeln. Noch bevor er näher rutschten konnte, spürte er wieder Dies kraftvolle Hände ihn näher ziehen, bis ihre nackten Körper fast komplett zusammentrafen. Keine Sekunde später fanden sie sich in erneuten heißen Küssen wieder, Kaorus Arme den anderen ebenso fest umschlingend. Er fühlte die warme Haut von Dies Rücken unter den Händen und nichts im Leben hatte er bislang so vermisst wie dieses Gefühl, das ihn endlich wieder durchdringen und vereinnahmen durfte. Kaoru stöhnte ihn den Kuss hinein, als seine harte Erregung die des anderen traf, die Körpermitten aneinanderreibend. Es war dennoch nur beinahe wie damals, als sie jung waren, denn schon bald merkte er deutlich, dass Die kein unbeschriebenes Blatt mehr war.

Zunächst waren es Dies forsche Finger, die nicht nur selbstbewusst und kräftig Kaorus Pobacken kneteten und sich kurz darauf auch wagten, einen Ausflug ins Tal dazwischen zu unternehmen. Dann recht plötzlich war es der komplette Die, der sich allzu leicht erhob, um sie weiter nach hinten aufs Bett zu bringen. Kurz mal dachte Kaoru, dass er wohl nicht gecheckt hatte, welches Fliegengewicht er für den anderen nun darstellte. Andererseits hatte er das vielleicht, doch durfte es nur nie zuvor spüren. Anders als jetzt, als Die ihn und sich selbst auf einmal umdrehte und in eine liegende Position aufs Bett brachte.

Das war eben die Sache mit dem Jüngeren, denn er hatte durchaus nicht nur Erfahrungen, sondern auch Fähigkeiten gesammelt, sodass er diesmal nicht einfach geritten werden wollte wie ein junges unerfahrenes Bürschchen. Nun, da dies hier offensichtlich tatsächlich passierte, wollte er schließlich auch zeigen, was er draufhatte und machen, dass Kaoru am besten für die nächsten 24 Jahre an nichts anderes mehr denken konnte. Fast wie ein Prädator lauerte er einen Moment lang über dem anderen, bevor er noch einmal seine Zunge im Mund des anderen versenkte. Erst als allein davon ein gedämpftes Stöhnen von Kaoru zu hören war, ließ Die ab und machte sich daran, den Rest des tätowierten Körpers zu küssen und selbstverständlich auch zu lecken. So zum Beispiel liebte er, dass Kaoru es mit der bemalten Haut nie übertrieben hatte und seine dunklen Brustwarzen noch immer in Kontrast zur hellen Haut standen. Sie sollten viel physische Zuneigung seiner Zunge erfahren, bevor er mit dem flachen Waschbärbauch weitermachte. Die brauchte ehrlicherweise kein Sixpack an seinen Sexualpartnern, denn den brachte er selbst mit und für gewöhnlich standen seine sexuellen Vorlieben in Kontrast zu sich selbst. Dass Alice so trainiert war, hatte für ihn nie einen sexuellen Anreiz gehabt. Er liebte daher die minimale Wölbung von Kaorus Bauch, die sich nichts desto trotz unter der aktuellen Behandlung anspannte. Dies Finger hatten außerdem den einzig wichtigen festen Muskel bereits umschlossen und genossen es, wie hart Kaoru dank ihm geworden war. Er streichelte dieser Länge entlang, doch küsste sich eine Bahn darum herum.

Auch wenn es für den Älteren unklar war und er sowieso nur versuchen konnte, den Verstand halbwegs zu behalten, wusste er so viel, dass er Die vollkommen erlegen war. Was auch immer er tun würde und wie auch immer er es tun würde, so hätte Kaoru keine Einwände, viel zu beschäftig damit, nicht verrückt zu werden. Er biss sich hart auf die Unterlippe, um nicht jetzt schon zu stöhnen wie ein naives Mädchen, doch so wie er Dies Zunge spürte, ahnte er, dass er bald nichts mehr zurückhalten könnte.

Es war leider zu verlockend für Die, nun nicht zu tun, wonach ihm gelüstete. Er musste jeden Zentimeter schmecken und kosten, wofür er sich schlichtweg den benötigten Platz schaffte. Nachdem er also mit Kaorus Hoden fertig war, drückte er ihm schlichtweg die Schenkel nach oben und erkundete den Bereich zwischen den straffen Pobacken mit seiner Zunge. Wenn er nämlich eines wusste, dann wie man einen homosexuellen Bottom um den Verstand lecken konnte. Vielleicht war es verrückt, das auch bei Kaoru zu testen, doch wer wusste, ob das nicht seine einzige Chance jemals sein würde? Die Resonanz war jedenfalls ein Stöhnen der Stimmlage, die beinahe nicht mehr nach seinem Bandleader klang.

Wahrscheinlich befand sich Kaoru auch schon in einer anderen Welt als dieser, denn an sich war ihm nichts dergleichen fremd, was Die tat. Nur nicht, dass es Die mit ihm tat. Es war in jeglicher Form peinlich und dennoch das Erregendste, das Kaoru je erlebt hatte. Nie im Leben hätte er jemals geahnt, dass so eine Situation je zustande kommen könnte. Doch hier war er nun, ein klägliches Häufchen, das vor Lust und Empfindungen wimmerte und der Gnade seines Bandkollegen vollkommen ausgeliefert war. Schlimm war, dass seine Hände die eigenen Pobacken griffen, um sich noch mehr der Zunge des anderen Mannes zu öffnen. So verdammt erlegen war er ihm und dennoch gab es wohl kein besseres Gefühl auf Erden als das jene genau jetzt.

Als Die stoppte, wussten beide, was als nächstes folgen würde. Kaoru versuchte, kurz mal durchzuatmen, doch das war sinnlos. Er schaffte es noch nicht einmal, die Hände von seinem Hintern zu nehmen, da sein gesamtes Ich seinen Körper nur noch mehr Die anbiedern wollte. Es war aber ein Angebot, das der Jüngere sehr gerne annahm, als er sich erhob und in Position brachte. Ihm schmerzte fast die eigene Latte, so sehr wollte er sich in den anderen Körper versenken. Weshalb er nicht länger ausharrte und sie beide mit sanfter Gewalt vereinte. Schließlich lud nichts mehr ein als Kaorus Anblick und sobald sich Die in ihm befand, gab es kein Zügeln mehr. Er presste die Hüfte nach vorne und ergötzte sich an jedem Zentimeter, der im anderen verschwand. Dabei das überraschte Ächzen des anderen zu hören, war wahrscheinlich die schönste Musik, die man komponieren konnte. Doch um dem anderen noch näher zu sein, senkte sich Die hinab, bis er seine Lippen an den freigelegten Hals legen konnte.

In diesem Moment war Kaoru nicht in der Lage gewesen, den anderen anzuschauen, sein Gesicht fast ins Kissen gewendet, als er versuchte nicht zu fluchen. Natürlich hatte sein Körper alle Mühen, mit dem Eindringling klarzukommen, doch womöglich hatte er auch schon viel zu lange nichts dergleichen mehr zu spüren bekommen. Schon gar nicht von Die, dessen Körper er fest umschloss, sobald sich nur die Möglichkeit ergab. Arme und Beine würde Kaoru um ihn schlingen, während er dabei versuchte sich Dies Bewegungen etwas anzupassen, da der andere sogleich ein paar feste Stöße vollzog. Keiner davon würde sein Ziel verfehlen und jeden davon würde der Bandleader mit einem lusterfüllten Grunzen willkommen heißen.

Das hier war aber anders als all die Jahre zuvor. Dies hier war nicht Kaoru, der dem anderen eine neue Welt zeigte und es ihnen beiden in der Weise besorgte, wie er vermutete, dass es ihnen gefallen würde. Diesmal war es Die, der sich den anderen nahm, wie er beliebte und dabei sicherstellte, dass Kaorus Hirn komplett lahmgelegt wurde. Das war gut so, denn er hätte keinesfalls darüber nachdenken wollen, welche Konsequenzen ihr Tun haben könnte. Es war egal, denn er hatte keine andere Wahl, als sich geben zu lassen, wonach ihm seit Ewigkeiten dürstete. Ihre Körper wurden klamm, ihr heißer Atem immer zügiger, die Bewegungen jedoch konstant kraftvoll, denn jeder Stoß erzeugte ein inneres Beben.

Vielleicht übertrieb es Die ein wenig, doch weil er eben nicht wusste, ob das hier je noch einmal passieren könnte, fickte er Kaoru, als gäbe es kein Morgen. Nicht jedoch im Traum hätte er gedacht, dass allein das den anderen zum Kommen bringen könnte. Die spürte das dickflüssige Sekret inmitten der heißen Feuchtigkeit ihrer Körper erst gar nicht, wenn da nicht die Hüften unter ihm verrücktgespielt hätten. Auch Kaorus Stöhnen war ziemlich eindeutig und ein letztes Mal zog Die das Tempo an, um dem anderen sogleich zu folgen. Dass er sich in ihm leerte, kümmerte ihn zu diesem Zeitpunkt nicht.

Nach einer Weile kam Die zur Ruhe und senkte sich zunächst auf den anderen Körper, das Gesicht tief in Kaorus Halsbeuge vergraben. Außer Atem merkte er jedoch, wie sie beide vermutlich kochten, die Temperatur zwischen ihnen deutlich gestiegen und sein heißes Keuchen machte es nicht besser. Mit Mühe hob Die das Becken und verließ den Körper des anderen, um sich auf die Seite zu rollen. Er fühlte sich ausgelaugt, doch glücklich und es blieb zu hoffen, dass es Kaoru ebenso erging.

Zwischendurch wäre der Bandleader fast gänzlich ausgeknipst worden, dachte dieser so bei sich und lag da, als wäre er high. Sein Körper war träge, doch noch pumpten Hochgefühle sogar unter seiner Haut. Er war erschöpft, aber sein Herz schlug wild gegen die Rippen. Er wand den Kopf um Die anzusehen, als müsste er sicherstellen, dass das hier gerade wirklich passiert war. Sein Bandkollege lag mit geöffneten Lippen neben ihm und drehte den Kopf, um Kaoru mit einem debilen Lächeln anzuschauen. Mehr brauchte der Ältere auch gar nicht, um den Moment fest in seinen Gedanken zu speichern, bevor er sich erlaubte, träge die Augen zu schließen.

Erst als Dies Arm auf ihn landete, öffnete Kaoru sie wieder und wusste das kleine amüsierte Grinsen des anderen nicht einzuschätzen. Er hob fragend die Augenbrauen, doch wusste nicht, ob überhaupt noch ein Muskel seines Körpers funktionieren würde.

„Weißt du was?“, fragte Die auf einmal mit rauer Stimme. „Du kannst mir diesmal gar nicht weglaufen. Wir sind ja in deinem Haus.“

Vielleicht hätte er kaum etwas Blöderes sagen können, doch obwohl es banal und albern klang, lag vielleicht etwas mehr Hoffnung darin, als Kaoru zunächst merkte. Er legte einfach seine Hand auf den Arm, der quer über seiner Brust verweilte und schmunzelte etwas. „Ich will nicht weglaufen.“

Die grinste sehr knapp und rückte noch etwas näher, fast als wolle er kuscheln. „Gut so.“

Das war schön. Das war bestimmend. Das war kein trauriger Die mehr, sondern einer, der wollte, dass Kaoru bei ihm blieb. Für den Moment, vielleicht sogar den Tag, fühlte sich das gut an.

Der Ältere erlaubte sich wieder die Augen zu schließen, doch murmelte: „Ich könnt nicht mal mehr laufen.“

So trocken daher gesagt brachte es Die aber zum Lachen und auch das war ein schöner Klang im Ohr des anderen. Er zwackte ein Auge auf und grinste Die an, der ihm vollkommen träge und unbewusst entlang der Seite streichelte, wobei er kichernd mitspielte: „Sei still, sonst mach ich es nochmal.“

„Hmmm,“ brummte Kaoru, doch musste mal wieder kurz die Augen zumachen. Sein Körper verlangte es abzuruhen, ob er wollte oder nicht. „Gib mir paar Minuten. Bin nicht im Training.“

Dümmlich grinsend setzte Die einen Kuss an Kaorus Schulter und beschloss nun eben dies zu tun. Statt weiteren Kommentaren war er still und genoss die unverhofft gefundene Nähe zu dem anderen. Seine Gedanken waren weit ab von allen Problemen, die er eigentlich hatte und egal, ob es nun die recht eigenwillige Therapie des Bandleaders war oder einfach Mitleid, so würde Die dieses unerwartete Glück bis zum letzten Moment genießen. Vielleicht würde er feststellen, dass er es nie wieder loslassen müsste. Wäre das nicht schön?

Ende Kapitel 11.

#dir en grey #andura #direngrey fanfiction #rating: nc-17 #bandfic #multi-chaptered #take the long way home

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prankdoeswriting · 2 years ago

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Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ellen Anders & Thel 'Vadam | The Arbiter Characters: Thel 'Vadam | The Arbiter, Ripa 'Moramee, Ellen Anders, Original Male Character(s) Additional Tags: Not Beta Read, Inspired by Jekyll and Hyde, Post-Canon, Sharing a Brain, Dreams, Flashbacks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, other characters to be added - Freeform Series: Part 60 of Works by "Prank" (Pseud Series) Summary:

So... did that mean he had cause to worry? That something was about to change within the galaxy due to the Spirit of Fire?'s resurfacing?

Thel did not know it at the time, but that was exactly it. Well, half of it, anyway. The other half of this strange case was buried within himself, in depths he did not know existed.

#halo #halo fanfic #the arbiter #thel vadam #thel 'vadam #halo arbiter #halo fanfiction #halo fic #ripa moramee #ripa ‘moramee #multi-chaptered #dr. jekyll and mr. hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #my writing #my fic #my fics

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alive-gh0st · 2 months ago

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˗ˏˋ❝Afterglow❞ˎˊ˗

Mark Grayson x Med!Reader♡ྀི

…..ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨..ـ...

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⛨ summary: you’re not sure what’s worse—his fake injuries or the way he keeps looking at you like he means it. like every visit is a reason to linger. like he wants you to see past the bruises and the bad lies and into something soft he’s trying to hide. he keeps showing up. you keep letting him. and eventually… one of you might break.

⛨ contains: sfw. slow burn tension at an all-time high. hospital flirting™. jealous glances. workplace drama. late-night phone calls. hand-hovering intimacy. emotional constipation (again). patch-up scene of doom. reader being flustered over a waist. mark being a tease. romantic yearning disguised as sarcasm. supply closet violations (almost). contact name crimes.

⛨ warnings: mild language. blood & injury treatment. bruises. longing. accidental touching. slow descent into horniness. future boyfriend antics. emotional walls. one almost-kiss. reader going feral over abs. mark’s v-line. reader’s vices.

⛨ wc: 4808

prologue, part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌a/n: i fear reader is down bad in ways that violate at least three hospital policies and one moral code. but like… have you seen mark’s waist? i wouldn’t have survived either. chapter four will be worse—stay safe out there.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You’ve seen a lot of stupid injuries.

People impaling themselves with forks. A guy who tried to ’karate kick’ a vending machine. That one time someone walked into the ER because he thought his left eyebrow felt ’possessed.’

But this?

This is getting ridiculous.

Because standing in front of you—again, for the third time in two weeks—is him.

Mark Grayson.

Wrist wrapped in a pitiful excuse for an ice pack, wearing a hoodie that probably used to be gray but now lives in that existential space between ‘charcoal’ and ‘regret.’

And offering you the same crooked, annoyingly charming grin you’re starting to see in your sleep.

He lifts the ice pack with a wince. “I think I sprained it.”

You blink.

Then you blink again—slower this time.

You don’t even respond at first—you just grab the chart, grab the gloves, and hope no one notices the way your jaw clenches so tight it could crack.

“Room four,” you say.

He follows you.

Of course he follows you.

“Doesn’t really hurt that much,” he says casually once you’re in the room, like that’ll make it better.

“I mean, I can still move it a little. Mostly came in to make sure it’s not, y’know, falling off or something.”

You give him a look that should legally count as malpractice.

He shrugs, sheepish. “Okay. Bad joke.”

You ignore him. You’re professional. Clinical. Efficient. The exact opposite of how your heart is acting right now—beating like it just clocked into overtime.

The glove snaps around your wrist with more force than necessary.

“Left wrist?” you ask flatly.

He nods, holding it out like a peace offering. You take it—gently, despite everything—and start checking for swelling, bone displacement, range of motion.

You do not notice how warm his skin is under your fingers.

You do not notice how his eyes are watching you the whole time, like he’s waiting for you to laugh at his pain or say something sarcastic.

You do not notice how close he is.

How human he looks. How normal he acts, even though every part of your gut screams that he’s something else entirely.

Still. You say nothing.

Instead—

“How’d it happen?”

Mark pauses.

Too long.

“Uh… tripped. Over a… rug. At a friend’s house.”

A beat.

You raise an eyebrow. “A rug.”

“Yeah. Big one.”

Your stare is surgical. “Right.”

He clears his throat. “You probably had to be there.”

You don’t laugh. Not even a smile.

But your lips twitch.

You hate him.

The chart says ’minor sprain.’

Your notes say ’watch for re-injury.’

Your brain says, he’s lying through his teeth.

You hand him the discharge slip and turn to leave, already planning your lunch break that will now include exactly two Tylenol and one existential crisis.

But then—

“Thanks, by the way.”

You pause. Glance over your shoulder.

Mark’s still sitting on the exam bed, eyes soft. Voice softer. “For not yelling at me this time.”

You look at him. Really look at him.

His smile is lopsided. Wrist still slightly swollen. Hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows like he’s trying to look more pathetic.

You exhale. “Next time, make it believable.”

He grins. “That a promise?”

You’re already walking away.

You don’t see it—but Mark watches you leave like he wants you to look back. Like he’s hoping one of these visits will make you stay just a second longer.

Maybe next time.

‎٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ_ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ෴ﮩ____

It happens again.

And again.

At this point, your coworkers don’t even ask for his name. He walks in, waves a little, and someone—usually Nurse Carla, with a look that says you owe me lunch—just hands him a clipboard and sends him your way.

“Room nine,” she tells you one night, like it’s the weather forecast. “Your favorite repeat offender’s back.”

You don’t look up. “What is it this time? Terminal idiot disease?”

“He says shoulder strain. Won’t shut up about a ‘kitchen incident.’”

You sigh. Loudly. Aggressively.

And go.

“Let me guess,” you say before the door even finishes clicking shut behind you. “Rug attack again?”

Mark’s seated on the exam bed, hoodie sleeves rolled up, one hand gingerly rubbing at his shoulder. He perks up when he sees you.

“Oh, hey. Nah, kitchen accident this time.”

You squint at him. “Did the fridge try to fight back?”

“I slipped on a rogue piece of ice. Could’ve died.”

You stare.

He grins.

You want to throw a scalpel.

You don’t. Mostly because there’s paperwork involved. And prison.

Instead, you grab a pair of gloves and walk over like you’re not already halfway spiraling.

The diagnosis is, once again, technically valid. Nothing torn. Just overuse. Strain.

But the frequency is… suspicious.

Mark Grayson is either the most accident-prone civilian on the planet or—

No. You’re not going there.

You’re not paid enough to unravel the chaos behind that stupidly warm smile and suspiciously nice arms. You’re here to treat the shoulder and move on.

That’s it.

So you press a little harder on the muscle and maybe enjoy it a little when he winces.

“Sorry,” you say, not sounding sorry at all.

He hisses. “Revenge?”

You tilt your head. “For what?”

“For existing.”

You pause. “That’s not a denial.”

He smiles again. “If this is your version of flirting, it’s medically inadvisable.”

You blink.

And then you’re laughing—short, sharp, a little horrified.

He lights up like it’s the first time he’s ever made you laugh, and it’s Christmas morning.

That’s when it hits you.

He’s not coming back because he’s hurt.

He’s coming back because of you.

And that’s a problem.

‎٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ_ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ෴ﮩ____

Everyone knows.

It’s not subtle. It’s not secret. It’s not even slightly professional.

Mark Grayson has been in this hospital more times than the janitorial staff this month, and everyone has noticed.

Receptionists wave at him like he’s a returning sitcom character.

Orderlies call him “Crash Boy” behind his back (and sometimes to his face).

The lab techs have started taking bets on what his next injury will be.

You don’t participate.

You’re above it. You’re focused. Clinical. Efficient.

Totally not spiraling.

Totally not hearing the group of nurses whispering near the vending machines with wide eyes and hushed giggles like they’re in a goddamn K-drama.

“She’s totally into him.”

“Did you see the way he smiled at her?”

“If that was my patient, I’d fake a fall too.”

You walk faster.

You’re fine.

You’re great.

You’re professionally ignoring it like any emotionally stable adult would.

Even Carla’s in on it.

And she doesn’t say a thing.

Just watches. With those all-knowing eyes. That judgmental smirk. The silence of someone who is absolutely clocking your entire life.

You’d honestly prefer if she just made fun of you. That would be less terrifying.

But the worst moment?

The moment that breaks you?

It happens at the nurse’s station on a Tuesday.

You’re just finishing up paperwork when he strolls in. Casual. Bright-eyed. Smiling like he belongs here.

He chats with a few nurses. One of them—you don’t know her name, she’s new, she’s probably still in school—laughs too hard at something he says.

Her hand lingers on his forearm. She tosses her hair. Her scrubs are—unfairly flattering.

You’re not looking.

You’re definitely not glaring.

Okay, maybe you are.

But then—she slips him a piece of paper. Probably with her number. In front of you.

You nearly rupture a blood vessel.

Mark looks confused at first. Then a little smug. And then—he looks over.

Sees your expression.

The twitch in your jaw. The vein in your forehead. The pure murder behind your eyes.

And he chuckles.

Chuckles.

Like some teenage fanboy who just realized you’re jealous.

You want to disappear. Or commit a minor crime. Or both.

You choose to dramatically slam a clipboard and walk away before you punch something.

You do not look back.

(You do.)

And he’s still watching you. Grinning like he just won a game you didn’t know you were playing.

You hate him.

So much.

(You don’t.)

‎٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ_ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ෴ﮩ____

Your day off is sacred.

It’s the only time you can collapse onto your couch, wear pajamas that should be considered a war crime, and pretend your job doesn’t exist.

So when your phone buzzes mid-coffee sip, you glance at the screen with the enthusiasm of a corpse.

✆ Unknown Number:

hey. quick q—how long is soreness supposed to last after a shoulder strain?

You blink.

Stare.

Frown.

Then sigh like you’ve just aged thirty years.

Because of course it’s him.

A few seconds later, another text follows.

it’s mark btw. grayson.

didn’t wanna bother you but i also don’t wanna die of arm failure sooo

You roll your eyes. Hard. So hard, your soul might’ve left your body for a second.

You type back.

That depends.

Did you slip on another ice cube or fight a blender this time?

There’s a pause. Then—

wow.

harsh.

i’ll have you know the blender and i are in a good place now.

You shake your head, but your fingers move before you can stop them.

ice it 20 mins on, 20 off. stretch it lightly.

if it starts throbbing, go in for imaging.

A pause.

so you do care

You close your eyes.

unfortunately.

That’s how it starts.

Little check-ins. Random questions. Half-medical, half-ridiculous.

✆ Unknown Number:

is it normal to be this tired after walking up stairs?

or am i dying

✆ Unknown Number:

asking for a friend—what happens if you take tylenol on an empty stomach but also 3 gummy worms

✆ Unknown Number:

totally unrelated but like

hypothetically

if someone wanted your coffee order

what would that be

You don’t save his number.

You don’t need to.

You know it now—by the rhythm of his texts, the way he never uses caps, how he spells “definitely” wrong every single time.

He’s just there.

Sitting quietly in your phone like a secret. A quiet, buzzing, annoying little constant.

And maybe…

Maybe you start looking forward to it.

Even when you pretend you don’t.

‎٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ_ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ෴ﮩ____

It starts with a simple text.

✆ Unknown Number:

you up?

No context. No greeting. No injury.

Just that.

You stare at it for a long minute, thumb hovering, debating whether to throw your phone across the room or call 911.

Eventually, you settle for the less dramatic option.

You call him.

The line clicks. He answers on the first ring.

“Hey.”

His voice is soft. Like he didn’t expect you to actually call. Like he’d already braced for rejection and is now wildly unprepared.

You roll your eyes. “If this is about a medical emergency, I swear to God—”

“It’s not.” A pause.

“I just… couldn’t sleep.”

Your mouth opens, then closes again.

You’re in your kitchen. Hoodie. Slippers. Lights off. Phone pressed to your ear like a lifeline.

“What do you want, Grayson?”

He breathes a laugh. “Dunno. Talk? You don’t have to, obviously. I just—thought of you.”

Silence.

Then—“…You always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say things like that. Like you’re not trying to ruin someone’s night on purpose.”

He chuckles. “Only yours.”

You’re going to kill him. Slowly. Lovingly. Maybe with a pillow.

Still—you don’t hang up.

You lean against the counter instead, phone wedged between your cheek and shoulder, arms crossed over your chest.

“What did you do today?” you ask, voice quieter than you want it to be.

He hums.

“Got yelled at by a coffee machine. Ate cereal with a fork. Thought about texting you like eight times before actually doing it.”

You snort.

“Your turn,” he says.

You shrug, even though he can’t see it.

“Saved some idiot’s leg. Again. Almost killed Carla with a clipboard. Avoided committing a felony.”

“Proud of you.”

A breath.

Then another.

You don’t talk for a while after that.

Just… exist. Two quiet people sharing the same silence. The same phone line. The same heartbeat pacing slow and low under your skin.

He breaks it first.

“You always sound tired,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

You close your eyes.

“You always sound like you’re hiding something,” you say back.

That shuts him up.

Not in a bad way. Just… in a way that says he wasn’t expecting that. That maybe you’re both too honest right now.

Or maybe not enough.

The next thing you know, your head’s on the pillow.

The phone’s still pressed to your ear.

His breathing is slow. Steady.

You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until you wake up the next morning and see the call log.

Call ended: 4 hours, 57 minutes.

You stare at it.

Then lock your phone.

You don’t say anything.

But the next night?

He texts you again.

✆ Unknown Number:

up?

And somehow, it’s already part of the routine.

‎٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ_ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ෴ﮩ____

You don’t see his name on the intake board.

Which would be great.

Except—he’s here anyway.

Mark Grayson. Not limping. Not bleeding. Not holding an ice pack or pretending to have an invisible concussion.

Just… standing.

In the waiting area.

Smiling at the front desk like he owns the place.

You spot him during a chart pickup and physically pause. Like your body’s buffering. Like your brain is trying to update to the latest version of What the Hell Is He Doing Here 2.0.

He catches your stare instantly and waves. A little too enthusiastically. Like this is a surprise party and not a professional workplace.

You approach slowly. Warily. Already drafting an internal HR complaint in your head.

“You’re not even bleeding this time,” you say by way of greeting.

Mark shrugs, like you’ve just asked him what he had for lunch.

“I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by. Y’know—check on my favorite doctor.”

You stare at him.

“This is a hospital,” you say flatly. “Not a Starbucks.”

He gasps. “Wow. You wound me.”

“I’ll do more than that if you don’t get out of my hallway.”

He grins.

You really hate him.

(You don’t.)

All you can try to do is simply ignore him.

Really, you try to do so.

But he’s too tall. Too warm. Too smug. He somehow makes the break room coffee smell good, which should be physically impossible.

He chats with a nurse his age. Then another.

You watch it unfold over the rim of your clipboard with all the restraint of a saint and the rage of a woman one bad laugh away from murder.

One nurse touches his arm.

Another giggles—like really giggles.

You swear one of them actually twirls her hair.

And that’s it.

You corner him in the supply closet six minutes later.

Mark blinks as you slam the door shut behind you.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “this is new.”

You don’t even let him finish.

“You can’t just hang around here like this is a date,” you hiss.

“A… date?”

You wave a hand at the closed door.

“Talking to people. Smiling. Giggling—God, someone giggled. Do you know how hard it is to get people to even smile around here?”

Mark blinks again.

Then says, “Are you… jealous?”

You short-circuit.

“No,” you say too quickly. “Obviously not. That would be insane.”

“Right. Totally insane.” He nods, mock-serious. “Because it’s not like you dragged me into a closet or anything.”

You open your mouth. Then close it. Then try again.

“I’m trying to keep this professional.”

Mark takes a step forward.

You immediately take one back.

He keeps going.

Another step. Then another. Until your back hits the shelf and he’s right there. Not touching. Not crowding. But close.

Too close.

His arms cage around you—not touching, just braced on either side of your head. Heat radiates off him like a furnace.

His voice drops to something low. Steady.

“I didn’t come here for them.”

You don’t breathe.

His eyes scan your face, softer than you’ve ever seen them. “I’m only here for you.”

You want to say something.

Something scathing. Something sarcastic.

But the words fumble on your tongue and disappear altogether when his gaze drops to your mouth—just for a second.

Just long enough to make your pulse stutter.

You hate him.

So, so much.

(You don’t.)

This is completely unprofessional. Entirely against hospital policy.

And for some godawful reason?

You don’t want him to leave.

‎٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ_ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ෴ﮩ____

Mark’s been a lot of things lately.

Tired. Sore. Bad at lying. Worse at staying away.

But mostly? He’s confused.

Because this—you—were never supposed to matter this much.

It started as curiosity. That’s what he tells himself.

Just some random hospital visit. He hadn’t been hurt, not really. Just enough to limp in as a civilian and sit through the fluorescent light misery like everyone else.

You’d been there.

Sharp. Efficient. Not a hint of softness in your tone. Told him to sit down and shut up like you hadn’t even noticed his face. Like you didn’t care.

He’d been hooked instantly.

You didn’t even blink.

And Mark couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So… yeah.

He came back.

The first fake injury had been dumb. He knows that now.

Sprained wrist, lame excuse. He’d tried to play it cool. He’d tried to be casual.

You didn’t buy it for a second.

But you also didn’t call him out. Not really.

You examined him like a puzzle piece you weren’t quite sure how to hold. Cold hands. Precise words. Steady fingers on his skin.

He’s never had to try this hard just to be noticed.

And it’s not even about the attention.

It’s about you.

He loves the way you frown at your clipboard. The way your voice drops when you’re tired. The way you say his name like you’re chewing on it, like you’re deciding whether it’s worth swallowing.

You think he doesn’t notice, but he does.

Every time your stare lingers.

Every time your fingers hover a little longer than they need to.

Every time your lips twitch when you’re pretending not to laugh.

It drives him crazy.

But there’s a problem.

You don’t know who he is.

You know Mark Grayson. College kid. Chronic klutz. Occasional insomniac.

You don’t know Invincible.

Not really.

Sure, you saw him twice—that version of him. But you hadn’t seen his face. You hadn’t put the pieces together. And he hadn’t given you a reason to.

Because if he tells you—

If he lets you in—

You might leave.

You might stop talking to him. You might look at him like everyone else does—too bright. Too strong. Too alien.

You might stop smiling at him like he’s just a guy.

And he loves that.

God, he loves that.

He loves being just a guy with you.

Not a hero. Not a name. Just a stupid, reckless twenty-something who texts you too much and doesn’t know how to say what he’s feeling without turning it into a joke.

He wants more.

He really does.

But he wants this even more—the late night calls. The sarcastic banter. The look on your face when you think he’s full of shit but don’t hate him for it.

So he waits.

And waits.

And waits some more.

Because maybe, one day, he’ll tell you everything.

But for now?

He just wants to hear you say his name again.

Just Mark.

Just yours.

‎٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ_ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ෴ﮩ____

You don’t expect to hear your doorbell.

Not this late. Not on a night like this.

So when it rings—once, then again, a little longer—you groan from the couch, hoodie half-on, takeout half-eaten, dignity fully gone.

You don’t rush. Just shuffle toward the door like a zombie. Ready to murder whoever it is with a spoon.

But then you open it.

And—

Oh.

It’s him.

Mark.

He’s leaning against the frame, hood down, hair a mess. His face is pale. His lips are tight.

And there’s blood—real blood—trickling sluggishly down the side of his abdomen, soaking into his shirt.

“Hey,” he rasps, voice thin.

“Think I… might actually need medical attention this time.”

You stare at him.

Then blink.

Then stare harder.

“…What, no blender story?” you say automatically. Your tone is flat. A reflex. Something to hide the sudden weight in your throat.

He gives you a half-smile—weak, lopsided. “Didn’t wanna disrespect the blender.”

And then he sways.

You catch his arm before he can stumble. It’s instinct. It’s muscle memory. It’s terrifying.

“Jesus,” you mutter, hauling him inside. “You’re such a goddamn idiot.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, the faintest laugh. “But I’m your idiot, right?”

You don’t answer.

You just lock the door behind you. Lead him to the couch. Grab the med kit without thinking. Your hands are already in motion before your brain can catch up.

Because it’s not a joke this time. Not some bruised ego or imaginary fracture. It’s real.

He’s hurt.

And for some reason, that makes your chest ache more than it should.

You kneel in front of him, snapping on gloves with a sharp snap that sounds a lot more confident than you feel.

“Lift your shirt.”

Mark blinks. “Buy me dinner first.”

You glare.

He winces, lifts it anyway—slowly. Hesitantly.

And holy fuck.

It’s worse than you thought.

A deep gash across his side, jagged and angry and still bleeding sluggishly. Bruises blooming along his ribs in shades you don’t want to name. A few smaller cuts littered across his chest. There’s dried blood on his collarbone.

He exhales when your fingers ghost near the edge of the wound.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” he says quietly. “Didn’t want to go in. Not like this.”

You say nothing.

Because now? Now it’s not funny.

Not even a little.

You dip gauze in antiseptic, press it to the worst cut. He hisses.

“Sorry,” you murmur, but your voice sounds strange—tight.

Small.

Mark watches you. Watches your hands. The furrow in your brow. The tension in your jaw.

He doesn’t say a word.

You clean around the injury carefully. Work in silence. You try not to notice how warm his skin is.

How his breath stutters every time your hand brushes too close to his ribs.

You fail.

Utterly.

“You’re not the first moron to bleed in my hands,” you say after a long pause.

He huffs something like a laugh. “But your favorite, right?”

Your eyes flick up to meet his.

Mistake.

He’s looking at you—really looking at you.

His eyes burn into you like he’s memorizing you. Like he already has.

Something in your chest tugs.

You go back to patching him up like it’ll distract you. Like your hands aren’t shaking a little. Like your heart isn’t beating faster with every inch of exposed skin.

He closes his eyes briefly when your fingers graze a bruise. You feel his stomach twitch beneath your palm.

“Sorry,” you whisper again. Your voice is breathy this time. Too soft.

“You keep saying that,” he murmurs.

“You keep showing up like this.”

His lips tilt—not quite a smile. “Can’t help it. You make a damn good doctor.”

“Flattery won’t stop me from punching you.”

He opens one eye. “You’d patch me up after, though?”

You don’t answer.

You’re too busy staring at the cut. At the curve of his waist. At the way he breathes when you touch him.

You don’t mean to react. But God, he looks too good.

His waist—narrow and stupidly defined—tapers in like he was sculpted on purpose. Abs tight. Skin flushed. There’s blood, yes, and bruises, but all your traitorous brain can focus on is how good he looks like this.

Cut-up and pretty.

Which is horrifying.

You are a medical professional.

You are a grown woman.

You should not be getting distracted by the slope of some twenty-year-old’s V-line while he’s actively bleeding out in your living room.

But when his breath stutters under your touch, when his abdomen flinches ever-so-slightly with a soft, involuntary sound—

Yeah.

You absolute freak.

You try to focus. Really.

But your fingers keep brushing the edge of his hipbone, your eyes keep catching the way his chest rises and falls—and every time he winces, there’s a noise. Barely audible. Low and quiet and fuck, why is that attractive?

You press gauze harder than necessary.

He exhales sharply, jaw clenching. “You trying to kill me?”

“Stop making noises like that.”

“Like what?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Because now you’re flustered. Because now you’re too aware of the silence. The tension. The way your breath hitches in tandem with his. The fact that your hands won’t move away.

You’re not patching up just any idiot.

You’re patching him up.

And his voice? His waist? The heat rolling off his skin?

It’s all getting to you in ways it shouldn’t.

Not here.

Not like this

It’s too much.

Too quiet.

Too close.

Your hands still.

Your breath catches.

And suddenly, he’s looking at you again—like he’s about to say something. Like he’s about to do something.

The air goes heavy. Thick. Tense enough to cut with the scalpel you dropped ten minutes ago.

His eyes flicker down—to your mouth.

You feel it like a jolt. A pulse.

Your heart stutters.

You lean in—

He does too—

But just before your lips meet—

He pulls back.

So do you.

Silence.

You don’t know what to say.

Neither does he.

Mark exhales shakily. Pushes his shirt down. Winces when it brushes his side.

“I should go,” he says.

You nod. Even though part of you wants to scream don’t.

He stands. Slowly. Carefully. Walks to the door. But before he opens it, he turns back.

Eyes soft. Voice even softer.

“You always make it hard to leave.”

Then he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him.

And you’re alone again.

You stare at the empty space where he stood. Unlock your phone. Open your messages. Type something out.

You okay? Text me when you’re—

Backspace.

Don’t be stupid next time—

Backspace.

I meant it. Don’t apologize—

Backspace.

You lock the screen.

Let it fall to the couch beside you.

And sit in the dark with your heart pounding, your hands still smelling like antiseptic and something else you can’t quite name.

Something you’re afraid to acknowledge.

And you know exactly what it is.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ˖⁺‧₊˚❤️‍🔥˚₊‧⁺˖ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌He sees it by accident.

Sort of.

Mark’s at your place. Fifth time this week. You said you only allow it because he brings ACTUAL food. Does he care? No.

He would bring you anything and everything if you only asked.

Right now you’re tossing your phone between hands while half-asleep on the couch, scrolling aimlessly as you mumble about discharge paperwork and Nurse Carla’s espresso addiction.

He leans over to look at something—your screen lights up, message preview glowing.

“Unknown: you up?”

And it’s his message.

He blinks. Frowns. Stares at it like it’s personally betrayed him.

“Wait—hold on,” he says, sitting up. “You still have me saved as… Unknown?”

You glance at him, unfazed. “What else would I save you as?”

“I don’t know. Mark. Grayson. Hot guy who keeps bleeding in your ER. Something with a little dignity.”

You shrug. “Didn’t feel like changing it.”

He gapes. “Wow. Cold.”

You just smirk, stretch like a cat, and toss your phone aside as you get up to grab water.

And that?

That’s your mistake.

Because the second you’re out of the room—he pounces.

Grabs the phone. Unlocks it with terrifying ease. Scrolls straight to his contact entry like it’s a goddamn rescue mission.

’Unknown.’

Unacceptable.

He deletes it on instinct. Then pauses, thinking. Fingers hovering.

What would annoy you the most?

What would make you roll your eyes?

What would make your heart do that little stutter thing he’s started to notice, way too often?

He grins.

And types—

’Future Boyfriend’

He stares at it for a second.

Then adds a heart.

Then deletes the heart.

Too soft.

Then adds it back anyway.

Perfect.

He sets the phone down just as you return with a glass of water, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What did you do.”

Mark smiles. Innocent. Almost saintlike.

“Nothing.”

You squint. Then pick up your phone. Check your messages.

Pause.

Your brow furrows. And when you tap into the contact?

Your whole face goes still.

“…Are you kidding me?” you mutter.

He shrugs. “Thought it was more accurate.”

You glare.

He beams.

You shake your head. But then—you sigh. And your fingers curl around the phone like you’re not actually planning to change it back.

Your lips twitch.

Just barely.

But he sees it.

And when you don’t delete it—when you toss your phone back to the table like it’s nothing, like he’s nothing, even though your ears are a little warm—

Mark just leans back, smug as hell.

Victory tastes a lot like your name on his tongue. Like your laugh. Like the future he’s trying so hard not to beg for.

And he’s starving for more.

For you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ongoing TAGLIST: @pickledsoda @f3r4lfr0gg3r @bakugouswh0r3 @katkirishima @delusionalalien @bellelamoon @monaekelis @feminii @sketchlove @lilacoaks @cathuggnbear @forgotten-moon94 @lalana1703 @smikitty @barbare2 @sleepyzzz3 @sunspl0tionjuice @maki-rollsss @angelbelles @scarletdfox

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

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juuuulez · 2 months ago

Text

post-rescue travis where you haven’t seen him for maybe a week. everyone is still settling back in, having to give statements, readjust to life in a functioning society etc etc etc.

when travis finally does see you again you look… normal. with clean hair, a nice outfit on, maybe even a little makeup. you smell like vanilla perfume and travis immediately realises that before all of this, a girl like you wouldn’t want a boy like him.

he feels overwhelmed by the fact that he gets to have you, that you still want him, even now. that you put on makeup for him, that you used a special lotion for him, that you wanted to look nice for him.

travis makes sure to remind you how pretty you look. that you’re the best thing to happen to him. that your relationship is the only good thing to come of the wilderness.

and he feels so ashamed for getting aroused the second he smells you. when you hug again, after a week apart, his hands shaking as they grip your waist. travis buries his face in your hair, savouring the new softness it has.

you’ll have to take him somewhere private to finally have sex on an actual bed. to give him actual aftercare, maybe even a nice shower together. he offers to moisturise your body, too, wanting to do all those sweet things a boyfriend should be doing.

#soft travis hours #he’s just so pookie #i want to do a multi chapter post-rescue fic #so bad #travis martinez x reader #travis martinez x you #travis martinez smut

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urinarythreatinfection · 1 month ago

Text

Confusion In My Love

Sanji x Male Reader. Part one. 6077 words

Desc: Sanji struggles with his sexual relationship with you.

CW: Fluff, other characters, angst, top reader, smut, happy ending (obv)

TW: Internalized misogyny

So, you and Sanji are dating now. Nervewracking at first but it’s been good! There are problems still but he’s been getting better with them. He’s being more affectionate, being less ashamed of his better treatment of you than the average man, and he’s even been calling you pet names more often! ..Though he’ll still stop himself sometimes. As if afraid he’ll make you uncomfortable, which should be weirder considering he’s never had an issue with that with women; but things are different with a male lover. What’s worse is he can’t stop thinking about you two doing it. The positions. He thinks it’s obvious he’ll top, but then again he’d also figured it was obvious he was straight. Those thoughts end up distracting him over and over every time you two get close. Your hands on him, his hands on you too if you would like. It’s not like he knows anything about having sex with a man. The penis would go inside, that's about all his knowledge. Anything else is blank. So he ends up having questions. Like isn’t that unsanitary? Would it feel good? Wouldn’t it just hurt and feel uncomfortable? Dicks aren’t made to go in there, it’d be more surprising if it felt good. So whenever he finds himself fantasizing about you two making out the daydream gets fuzzy the moment it goes past that. Though the two of you haven’t actually made out like that yet… though you have been having your “intimacy practice” sessions.

‘Feels good.’ Sanji thinks to himself as you place small kisses on his lips, the both of you sitting next to each other on your bed. You’ve been practicing affection together when you both have the time. Holding hands, hugging, and now kissing. ‘Ahh…’ Having your lips against his, lovingly and romantically giving kiss after kiss makes his heart full; but it still feels like it isn’t enough. He starts to daydream again about your mouth devouring his until he’s gasping for breath. You notice him spacing out and pull away.

“Was I that bad?” You half joke, getting insecure that your boyfriend is focusing on something else while you two are kissing.

“No, of course not!” He clears his throat. “I was.. thinking about positions again.” His eyes avoid yours.

“Positions?” You ask, putting it together after a moment. “Ohhhhh. I meant it when I said I was okay with bottoming. I get it might be nerve wracking to bottom for your first time with a guy.” You’re trying to be understanding with him but he’s silent. “..It would be your first time with a guy, right?”

“Of course it would be!” He yells, startling you. He quickly takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “I was just thinking more about how it would work. The gist is that your- the penis would go inside the bottom, right?”

‘He’s so awkward about this.’ You think to yourself before explaining. “If you’re worrying about cleanliness you clean back there before doing anything, and you prep it before penetrating too. Fingers and stuff.” You’d actually picked up some supplies for sex back at the last island, just in case. Totally not because you want to be ready at any moment.

“Fingers..” He stores that in his mind. There’s another part for his daydreaming, it’ll be less blurry now.

“Yeah, there's a place in there that feels good when you press it.” You’re struggling to talk about this maturely without getting aroused or nervous. For your boyfriend you need to be the one to be mature and guide him. “You can hit it with fingers or the penis, and if it’s not enough you can touch the front too. Depending on the position the front is easy to access. You’re flexible so I could-” Ah, you started talking like you were topping. “I mean—as a possibility for me to...” You trail off, noticing Sanji’s red face. “Was I being too descriptive?” He’s cute like this but you don’t want to overwhelm him. He sighs, craving a cigarette as he rubs his face.

“You have to be descriptive.” He feels so immature, not being able to handle some sex talk even when he’s the one who asked. “I keep getting embarrassed when you’re trying to be helpful.” He’s a fully grown man, he needs to get his act together! Especially when it’s for you. The cook looks forward and clears his throat. “Anyway, condoms and lube. We need to wait to get some at-”

“Oh, I have them.” You interrupt and his eyes widen before he snaps his head to look at you.

“You do!?”

“It’s good to be prepared, right? I even stored them in my drawer. Though I didn't expect to be talking about sex so early.” While you’re explaining Sanji puts his head in his hands.

‘He’s already prepared! I can’t use that as an excuse to calm down anymore!’ He was planning to use the excuse of not being prepared to calm down his thoughts, but they’re only going to get stronger now that the possibility of having sex is higher. You see him looking stressed and lean in to kiss his cheek. He yelps, focusing back on you.

“Don’t worry about the sex stuff, I’ll wait for as long as you need.” You’d like to pin him down right now but you’re more than your lust, you can handle waiting.

“Great..!” Despite that being for Sanji he isn’t happy about it. He’s always had a problem holding his love and lust in but still bottling feelings up when it’s someone he loves. “Good, that’s, I can—that’s convenient.” He’s got a big forced smile on his face, hands gripping his knees. He was kind of hoping you would make the first move, but since you said you’d wait that means you definitely aren’t. Your hand reaches for his again, holding it firmly.

“It’s okay.” You don’t know what’s bothering him so much, but you know your lover is distressed. Your thumb gently strokes the back of his hand and Sanji’s smile lowers into a softer one. He’ll think more about this later, right now he wants to spend this time with you. His head softly rests on your shoulder and you rest yours on top.

‘I want to make out..’ He wonders if he can manage to ask for that soon.

______________________

‘I really really want to make out with him.’ Giving Sanji small kisses and smooches is nice, especially since he seems to enjoy it, but you really want to make out with him. Still, you need to wait till he asks for it. You aren’t doing anything without his explicit say so. You already took a huge risk to get a confession out of him, you don’t want to take another one and possibly rush him when he can’t handle it. Plus, even if that isn’t the case, you would still rather him initiate. If you two are going to be dating your boyfriend has to learn how to communicate one way or another. So no matter how much you have to suppress your urges to grab his ass or talk dirty you’ll wait. Though actually you did promise to bottom so maybe suppress asking him to bend you over. He’s just so much cuter than you expected since he’s so not used to everything. Maybe it’s a bit sadistic to enjoy it but you’ll relish his shy naivety while it lasts. Just until he starts understanding himself and the relationship.

“Yo.” Zoro greets you, holding a towel as you sit on the grassy deck.

“Hey, you gonna wash up?” You ask him, noticing how sweaty he is. He must’ve just gotten done with his training in the crow’s nest.

“Yeah, if I’m too dirty it starts getting distracting.” You raise a brow.

“Distracting because the built up sweat is uncomfortable or because we start distancing from you and pointing it out.” Even Luffy has his limits since Zoro’s constant working out and training means he stinks much quicker.

“Both.”

“Oo are you two getting in the bath?” Luffy slides down from the top deck. “I wanna come!”

‘Bath day for stink and stinkier.’ You think before responding. “Alright then you can come too. The bath is big enough, you just have to wash yourself off first.”

“Nnn, that’s such a hassle.” Luffy whines. He finds it fun washing off at first but when he has to be there making sure every little bit is actually clean it feels tedious. If he’s with someone it’s better, though.

“You have no patience.” Zoro scoffs at the captain and Luffy grabs his towel and runs towards the bath. “HEY GET YOUR OWN!”

___________________

You and Luffy scrub your body while Zoro makes sure his swords are in a safe spot. “You need help with your back, Luffy?” You ask him while Zoro sits down to wash up too.

“Nah, I got it.” He shows you the washcloth. “Look!” He stretches his arms all around his body like a spring, from his ankles coiling up to his shoulders. “Gum gum scrub!” He lets it go and the cloth whirls around, scrubbing his front and back body like a machine. By the time it’s back in place he’s covered in suds from his feet to his neck. You clap, impressed while he uses a bucket to wash the soap off. He’s visibly proud of himself.

“You still make stupid moves like that after 2 years.” Zoro huffs and Luffy laughs.

“They’re fun! Though I’ve had to focus more on serious ones now~” Luffy reminisces fondly while the swordsman frowns.

“Yeah because if you pull another ‘Gum Gum Windmill’ when fighting some actually strong enemy I’m leaving you in the ground this time.” Luffy puts a proud hand on his chest.

“I’m stronger now so I could pull myself out.”

“If you can't, I'll ask Chopper to emergency amputate your feet to free you.” You chime in and Luffy gets a nervous expression on his face.

“W-What!? I could pull myself out, I'd just need a little time!” He tries to argue but Zoro shakes his head.

“Sorry, no time. I’ll have to do it. Chopper wouldn’t be quick enough.” The swordsman states coldly.

“EH!?” Luffy yells in shock as you wring out your washcloth. You make sure it’s fully rinsed before soaping it up again.

“Since our captain is so capable and creative I’ll wash your back Zoro.” You state, standing and grabbing your stool.

“Yeah Zoro, why don’t you have a sword move to wash your own back.” Luffy mocks him with a stupid face.

“My swords aren’t FOR that!” He barks back and you place your stool behind him before sitting down.

“Maybe you could try using one to exfoliate, scrub the skin off or stick a sponge on it.” You suggest. That inspires Luffy and he grins mischievously. The captain ties a washcloth to his head to mimic Zoro’s bandana then grabs a soap bar like a sword.

“One sword style… back scrubber!” He’s even mimicking the way Zoro talks when saying his moves, making you laugh while Zoro groans. Right before the rubber boy goes back to finish off washing he perks up, looking behind him at the door. “Hm?”

“What’s up, Luffy?” You ask but Luffy just looks back at you.

“Hmmm.. nothin.” He then smiles brightly. “I’ll wash your back!” Those words terrify you. You go pale, silently saying goodbye to your back skin while Zoro grins. At least you’ll be squeaky clean.

(SANJI'S POV)

Sanji speedwalks back to the men’s quarters, going inside and sitting on his bed. He clenches his fists tightly. You were bathing with that damn mosshead. Sure you do it all the time but Sanji’s dating you now, and you were washing his back. Sudding up a washcloth and scrubbing his back so intimately, sitting so close you might as well be spooning him. ‘What was with that!? You.. you… that’s cheating! Alone with Zoro like that, naked with you behind him, your crotch near his butt.�� Luffy was also there but Sanji’s deluding himself right now. ‘The only butt that (Y/n)’s crotch should be near is mine!’ His nails dig into his palms, his teeth gritting. Here he is being shy about making out when you’re naked bathing with other men. “Gah!” He stands up with his hands on either side of his head, he has to do something! Even if it wasn’t romantic or sexual it just doesn’t sit right with him having you doing things with other people that you two haven’t done as a couple. A few hours later Sanji suddenly approaches you.

“(Y/n)!” He calls out and you turn to see a strangely desperate looking Sanji. “Let’s bathe together, tomorrow.” You pause for a moment.

“Really?” You’re a little nervous, if you get hard, hiding an erection isn’t gonna be easy when you’re basically naked.

“Yes.” He grips onto your shoulders with fire in his eyes.

“...Alright.” You aren’t sure what motivated him but you aren’t gonna pass up on this opportunity to see your new boyfriend naked. He may not be against bathing with the other crew but he usually bathes alone, though that is mostly because the rest of the men don’t bathe everyday. Plus, he cites that he needs to make sure he’s up to standard for ladies and distractions would hinder his routine. This is a nice chance even with the risks, which Sanji also knows; buuuttt if you’re careful not showing your crotch unless he’s facing away he won’t have to see a thing.

________________

Sanji underestimated how awkward he would be. His fire from yesterday faltered the moment the two of you were alone in the bath. He just stands there, watching you. “Sanji you actually have to undress to bathe.” You joke and he flinches. “It’s fine, I’ll go first.” Having him watch you is making you nervous but you manage to undress until you have nothing but a small towel around your hips. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes staring at every inch of you and it’s forcing you to internally yell at your body to calm down. Coincidentally Sanji is also doing that. He turns for a second to wipe his nose with a handkerchief he brought just in case. He’s got this. He’s been attracted to women this whole time and been disgusted by men. He can handle a man being naked, even if it’s you. While he’s thinking you’ve already started taking the initiative and washing yourself off. The sooner you get in the bath the better the chance you won’t make things awkward with a hard-on. You just have to not think about his body and how great his legs are and how they make his waist look smaller and easier to grab.

“Hey.” Sanji speaks, standing behind you. He’s undressed, must’ve done it while you were lost in thought.

“Yeah?” You put on your best poker face to hide what you were just thinking, keeping your eyes on his face with all your willpower. The cook clears his throat.

“I’ll wash your back. Okay?” You flinch. It’s already been thoroughly washed by Luffy yesterday, it still feels a bit raw. “Is that a no..?” His face darkens insecurely from your body language.

“It’s not a no, it’s just that Luffy washed it yesterday.” You explain and his face turns into immediate understanding.

“I’ll just use my hands then, rub it a bit.” He explains, scooting the stool and sitting behind you.

“Alright…” You hear him rub soap between his hands before hesitant fingertips touch your back. You shiver. ‘I need to stay calm.’ They start to explore your skin, spreading the substance wherever they touch. His hands are softer than you thought, but still calloused from using them to cook and for balance when fighting. Parts of them you can feel are rougher than the others, but none of it is scratchy. He’s got a strong dedication to cooking, which translates to dedication taking care of his hands. They’re his pride and joy. Always careful not to knick them, not to let them dry out. So he tends to moisturize them often. You start to hear heavy breathing from behind you, his hands are shaking.

“Your back is so nice to touch.” You hear him mumble, he sounds out of it.

“Thanks but are you okay? You’re breathing kinda heavy.” There’s no answer for a second until Sanji takes a long breath in and out.

“I am. I’ll wash you off now.” He grabs the bucket of water and pours it over your back, using one of his hands to rub the soap fully off. “Now me. Hurry.” He sounds somewhat rushed and you turn to see his back already facing you. Convenient. Why is he in a rush? You gulp and sud up your washcloth, putting it on his back. When it touches him he lets out a small noise, covering his mouth. The back of his neck is flushed.

‘He’s getting a lot more affected than me.’ You think to yourself as your hands start to move. Still, you’re waiting until he makes the first move. Your leg bounces as you continue, your hand going down to his waist. You grip onto it with one hand to hold his posture. A shaky breath escapes him. You gulp. ‘I need to control myself. I need to control myself.’ You repeat that in your head until you finally wash the soap off, rubbing his back while the water does its job. Once you set the bucket down you notice.. Sanji’s trembling. He’s visibly aroused even if he’s facing away. So you wait there for a moment, hoping that he’ll turn and ask for you; but he doesn’t. It’s a shame. “I’ll be in the bath.” You tell him while standing.

“Okay.” That’s his response before you go to the water, settling in and hoping the warmth will relax all of you. You decide to watch Sanji. You note that he’s moved to be facing away from you even when you changed places, now washing his body. You also note that, once he’s gotten to his front lower half, he. He’s moving his hand like he’s washing but he hasn’t finished despite scrubbing at the same spot for 30 seconds now. ‘Is he..? No he wouldn’t. I know he’s a pervert but doing that so close to me would be crazy.’

“Hahh.. hahh… hahh…” You start to hear his panting and see his hips squirming the more time that passes.

‘He is!’ Even if he’s not trying to be obvious he 100% is. You look away from him, your own dick twitching and struggling. This still isn’t him asking you.

“Nn~” He lets out a small whine. Fuck it.

‘If he’s doing it I am too.’ You stand up to sit on the edge of the bath, pulling your towel down. Once it’s down you immediately grip your dick and start to fuck your fist. You need to get off. Now. Or you’ll end up going to Sanji and break your promise of control. You can see him getting more desperate, thrusting up into his hand as his noises get louder like he forgot where he is. You’re getting close, but he’s closer. A hand slaps over his mouth to quiet a moan as he cums. You imagine it’s your own hand muffling him to stay quiet. He’ll be turning around soon now that he’s done and you start to hurry. You were already close so all you need is a bit more. Right when you gasp and cum he’s turning around. He’ll see you!

“You better not be doing anything crazy in there! Everyone uses this bath!” Nami’s voice from the other side of the door distracts him and he turns away.

“N-Nami-swan! I didn’t—the bath is clean!”

“It better be.” It’s not like she likes to cockblock but everyone uses that bath, she doesn’t need you two fucking in it.

‘Somewhat of a save.’ You think to yourself as you come down from your high. You shot into your hand so the water is still clean. You stand up and wash it off before Sanji can notice, though he’s also washing his hand off. The rest of the bath is alright, you pretend that you didn’t notice what he was doing. Other than that, the two of you enjoy your time together and Sanji is no longer jealous. Once the two of you are out of the bath and dried up he goes to you.

“Tomorrow, let's try deeper kissing.” He says, looking guilty for what he did earlier but still determined.

“Okay..”

______________________

“Are you ready?” You ask and he nods. You take a deep breath and press your lips to his.

“Nn..” It’s different. Open mouthed, not pulling away at all.

“I’m gonna use my tongue.” You pull back slightly to mumble as a warning before sliding the muscle into your boyfriend’s mouth. Sanji shivers and clutches onto your shoulders. One of your hands goes to his back, rubbing circles into it before gently pulling him closer to you. After around a minute you both finally pull away for air, panting with your eyes closed. When yours open you see Sanji with his eyes still closed as he takes deep breaths. “How was that?”

“Do it again.” He says breathily, shocking you a bit. Before you can say anything though he leans in to start making out again, forcing you to kiss back again. You’re not gonna stop him if he’s this eager. Still, you’re a bit worried you’re being too dominant, but you just can’t help it. On the plus side it doesn’t seem like he minds. You gently suck on his tongue and he moans. He more than doesn’t mind.

‘Shit, I’m gonna get hard.’ You think to yourself, but you’re still unable to pull away. You can already feel it. Sanji stops to take a deep breath before suddenly climbing into your lap to straddle you, kissing again. You lightly panic if he can feel it or not. All he’d have to do is scooch up a little bit, and he does. Sanji feels it, you know he feels it, but he only scoots closer until his thighs are to the sides of your hips. The movement makes you instinctively buck upwards and he grinds back down onto your cock. You grunt, gripping onto his firm thighs. Suddenly the kiss is more than deep, it’s lustful, fervent. You grind up again and he meets your hips, the two of you letting out noises of pleasure and only pulling away for small moments when you need to breathe. You don’t know what triggered this change in Sanji, maybe he was pent up or the making out made him forget his insecurities, but you’re ecstatic. You pull away, gripping his thighs harder for leverage to thrust. He arches his back with a long moan. “Sanji..” You say his name and he shivers.

“(Y/n)..” One of your hands let go of his thigh and ghosts over his crotch. He immediately bucks up into it desperately, thrusting once you settle it over his clothed dick. He’s moving in your lap almost like he’s riding you and it’s making you so hard it’s painful. Your thumb slips under his waistband, running along the nicely trimmed hair there. He sucks in a breath through his teeth. You adjust him by his waist and press your erection directly where his entrance would be. “Ah!” You did say that you would wait, but this wouldn’t be going all the way. It’s just a suggestion. Your thumb moves further down, taking his pants and underwear with it.

“Can I?” He nods. “Words.”

“Yes, please.” He’s doing so good. You pull his bottoms down until his erection finally pops out, precrum already leaking from him. You gather what’s at the tip and spread it along the shaft with your hand. Sanji gasps and leans back to grip onto your knees. You try to start stroking him but he stops you. “You.. you too.” His voice is breathy, eyes lustful. His hands go to your waistband and shakily pull them down, slipping one underneath until he grabs your length and pulls your hard cock out. A feeling of relief washes over you at it not being trapped anymore. Sanji stares at it a bit. He thought he’d hate or feel weird about it but he loves it, loves the weight in his hand and the warmth of it against his skin. He runs his thumb along the vein on the bottom, enjoying your reaction and the pulse. He almost forgets about himself until you palm his tip. “Merde!”

“My bad!” You apologize and he shakes his head quickly.

“No.” Sanji grabs your wrist before you can pull away. He releases it quickly after, “Please, keep going.” desperate. You nod and start to stroke his dick, his hand stroking yours. He’s focusing on your shaft like he likes it, every so often moving up to stimulate the glans. Very quickly he’s starting to get whiny, wanting more. He scoots forward and your dicks touch, making the both of you shiver from pleasure.

“Fuck.” You groan and he looks into your eyes before sliding his hand around both your cocks, squeezing them together. It shoots pleasure from your dick straight up to your brain and you both moan. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder, turning to kiss the side of his neck. His hand starts to stroke while holding the both of them.

“I love you.” He says while his other hand holds onto your shoulder. “So so much.” He continues to move his hand up and down while panting from pleasure. He’s feeling it, maybe even more than you.

“I love you too.” You grip onto his hips and thrust up into his hand.

“Ah!” Your shaft rubs against his tip. He thrusts up too and your hand meets his grip. Soon you’re both fucking the hold the two of you made, alternating so the stimulation heightens.

“I’m close.” You warn him, but the moment you say that Sanji whines and cums first without any warning. It’s sudden but you take over the grip with your other hand now that he’s unable to, thrusting up to cum as he struggles from the overstimulation. Fucking against his softening dick until he’s whimpering. You finally shoot out your own cum, your fluids joining his on top of your hands and dicks. The both of you catch your breath and Sanji moves off of you to fall back onto the bed. “You okay?” You ask him and he doesn’t answer, your eyes widening as he pulls his pants and underwear off. “Woah, what..?”

“Hurry. I—I already got myself ready.” He says, looking shy about it.

“You got yourself ready? But we were only supposed to make out today.” Silence. “You were planning this from the start then..” He avoids eye contact. The fact that he had this intention from the start is getting you aroused again and you reach in your bedside drawer for lube. Once you pull it out you open the lid and start coating your fingers.

“I said I already got myself ready!” He whines when he notices you slicking your fingers up.

“I don’t doubt that part but for fingering you probably only got a single one in and figured that was enough.” You’re proven right with Sanji’s next words.

“It’s not?” You sigh with furrowed brows.

“Did I look as small as a finger?” You ask him and he shakes his head no with a sad frown. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound mad. “ You lean over and kiss his forehead. “I wanna touch you. I don’t want your first time to be just me sticking it in.” He wants to be touched too, really bad, he just also wants to be fucked really bad. You gently rub your finger around his hole, then sink your middle finger inside.

“Kya~!” He kyas and then covers his mouth with both of his hands. ‘Dammit, not again!’ You stare at him, slightly shocked, then slip your finger deeper and watch as he struggles to muffle another kya.

“Don’t cover your mouth.” You tell him but he shakes his head. “Sanji.” You lean forward and kiss his hands. “Please? I wanna hear your pretty noises, all of them.” He looks into your eyes and hesitantly uncovers his mouth, gripping onto the bed sheets instead. When you look at him while saying such sweet words he can’t bring himself to refuse. With your other hand you unbutton his shirt and undress him fully, adding another finger.

“Just feels- ah~!” He’s interrupted when you curl your fingers into his prostate, massaging it with your fingertips. “Nnn!”

“Feels good, right? I wanna make sure you feel good.” You run your hands along his body, his stomach up to his chest before gripping one of his pecs softly with his nipple between two fingers. He bites his lip to hold in a high pitched moan. That won’t do. You lean forward and kiss him, prying his mouth open with your tongue to make sure he can’t bite his lip to keep his mouth shut. Your fingers pump faster and you make sure to focus them on that bundle of nerves every time they’re fully in. When you pull away for air he’s panting, flushed with wet eyes. “It’s okay.. it’s okay..” You scissor him open, spreading his hole so you can enter later. “I’ll start gentle for you. We’ll be making love, not just having sex.” Sanji’s pupils blow wide open and he spreads his legs further, panting as his cock fully hardens.

“Love..!” Romantic, lovey dovey, he loves that idea. You pull your fingers out and settle above him, kissing his chest right above his heart. He tenses and tries to hide himself.

“You’re so handsome, Sanji. Pretty, handsome, beautiful, everything. So don’t feel insecure, don’t hide yourself from me.” You coo to him, kissing his lips then cheek.

“I sound stupid.” He’s still feeling insecure. “I’m a guy, I’m not supposed to make noises like this. I’m not supposed to be like this.”

“You’re still a guy, 100%, you’re just a guy that happens to go kya sometimes and makes pretty noises for his boyfriend. Okay?” Your words seem to soothe him because he relaxes.

“Okay.” You nod and lube up your cock, making sure it’s completely slick before it’s placed at his entrance. Missionary is a little hard for anal without a pillow under his hips. To make it easier you grip his legs, pushing them wider and higher til his knees are almost touching the mattress. It’s a lot easier than you thought, there’s almost no resistance.

“Is this fine?” You ask to make sure and he nods.

“I’m not tense anymore, you can go inside.” He thinks you’re talking about being penetrated. Bending him is so easy he doesn’t even think of it as a possible problem.

‘Damn..’ That’s hot. Your tip slowly enters, then you sink in inch by inch, feeling his soft walls envelop you until your hips meet. The feeling makes him kick his legs a little, letting out little moans with his eyebrows furrowed. It feels better than he thought, maybe from the arousal but it’s like pleasure shoots through him with every movement. “You’re.. tight..” You grunt and start to move slowly. He’s tight around your cock but somehow also inviting everytime you thrust inside. You look up at Sanji’s face and notice he’s tearing up, making you pause immediately. “Are you alright!?”

“Ah, fuck.” He looks away, his hair covering his eyes. You let go of one of his legs to brush them away.

“What’s wrong..?” You ask carefully and he shakes his head lightly.

“I don’t know. It feels good. Just.. nerves.” It feels good but it feels bad at the same time, shameful; as if he’s not a man anymore by letting you do this to him. It’s stressing him out. You don’t want him like this, you love him. He deserves to be as whiny as he wants. You kiss him gently then lift him up. “(Y/n)?” You’re sitting down now, slightly leaned back with him on your lap.

“Take control then.” You tell him. “You’re not just a thing to be fucked, nor are you less of a man somehow by being fucked. You’re my boyfriend and I’m yours. This isn’t just for pleasure, this is for love.” He tears up more.

“How could you look at me like this and find me a man to be loved?” He doesn’t think he's beautiful at all being whiny like this. A fully grown man with hair on his legs, it’s disgusting. He must look disgusting whining and moaning.

“Because you’re Sanji, always a man. That’ll be true no matter what you do or how you are. If you want to stop here then we can stop, because you have that choice and that power. This isn’t making you powerless at all.” Sanji looks into your eyes, trying to find any hint that you think otherwise. That you’re secretly making fun of him in your mind and find him gross, just fucking him to get off.. but there’s nothing. You just look enamoured and turned on. It starts to bring heat pooling in his stomach and heart.

“(Y/n)..!” He calls your name and grips onto your shoulders before starting to move, his thighs to the sides of your hips as he goes up and down.

“You’re the most stunning man in the world. Beautiful, hot, I love you.” You praise him over and over as he rides you and he loves it, a moan with each compliment. “Gods you’re so hot.” You’ve been trying to let him take full control but you end up gripping onto his hips and thrusting up into him.

“Ah!♡” His back arches and he goes faster, strong legs easily bouncing on your cock. You take the chance to gently adjust his posture until you help him hit his own sweet spot, making him moan loudly and his back to arch more. His hands let go of your shoulders and he almost tips backwards until you grab his shoulder. You slide that hand down to his and hold it before intertwining your fingers lovingly. “(Y/n). (Y/n). My love. A-Amour!” He’s babbling various pet names while speeding up, so happy as you thrust up into him. You grip his hand tighter, enjoying the view of your boyfriend's body as he rides you. The way his dick bounces on his stomach leaking pre-cum and his flushed face with teary eyes from pleasure. “I’m cllosssee~!”

“M-Me too..!” You say, your voice is getting shaky. He’s good at this. Not faltering even for a second with his movements. A few more thrusts and he cries out, cumming strongly; yet he doesn’t stop moving. You’re almost shocked, but it feels too good for you to think hard about it; especially when he’s showing no signs of wanting you to pull out. His walls are pulsing and contracting around you with his orgasm. It's like he’s begging you to fill him up. The pleasure starts to well up in your groin, rising up and up before it explodes and you cum into him with a moan. That cum coats his insides as he rides you through your ejaculation… then after it. “Sanji!” You panic, feeling overstimulation creep in. That seems to snap him out of it and he comes to a stop.

“Sorry. It felt too good.” He says sheepishly, calming himself down. Even when he was getting overstimulated it was like his brain went empty and the only thought in his head was to make sure he kept moving his body.

“It’s great you think that but at least give me a little rest.” You half-joke before kissing him. He wraps his arms around you and kisses back, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you two start to make out. When you pull away he looks into your eyes.

“I love you.” His voice is soft, vulnerable.

“I love you too.” You answer quickly.

“I have to get dinner ready.”

“Oh.”

Happy pride month! I did it! I know it was supposed to be wednesday and then i said thursday and now it's friday afternoon i'm really sorry. It's just, idk, i kept not being happy with the characterization and stuff and it got more difficult than I thought especially since i procrastinated until monday but then got sick that day so i only had tuesday and then wednesday. By thursday night i had it done but then i passed out, proofread it for the second time, and then finally finished it. Yipee! 🎉🎉

#one piece #fanfiction #one piece x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x male reader #top male reader #male reader #bottom character #sanji #sanji x you #black leg sanji x reader #black leg sanji #black leg sanji x you #fluff #smut #one piece smut #sanji x reader smut #sanji smut #multi chapter

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