#I swear this is going to end up with me making a crossover with like “Anachronistic Past” I just know it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carmenized-onions · 5 months

Text

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

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

series history; Previous Chapter

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

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

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

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

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good things?”

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

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

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

“The connection?”

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

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

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

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

“Ah. N’ then…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

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

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

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

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

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

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did they?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What the fuck?”

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

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

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

“In The Beef!”

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

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

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

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

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

“The thing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

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

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

“If you’ll take it.”

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

“How’s that going?”

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

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

“How’s the second day open going?”

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

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

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

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He squints. “…How’re you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heard.”

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

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

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

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

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

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

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

“The chaos menu? She said—”

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

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

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

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

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

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

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

“…No.”

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

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

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

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

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

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

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

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

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

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

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

“At what? Self-help?”

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

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

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

…

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

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

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

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

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

“Does it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But?”

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

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

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

Next Part

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #carmy the bear #the bear x you #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction

436 notes · View notes

thatfeelinwhenyou · 1 year

Text

HANDS ON YOU — lee heeseung

IN WHICH; I-LAND 2 happened and you debuted first place as the leader of LUMIÈRE. Having been told that your group is involved in a lore crossover with ENHYPEN, you navigate work, friendship, and love while trying to make it in an industry filled with animosity and condemnation. When life throws you lemons, you gotta make lemonades chuck it right back!

PAIRING: idol!heeseung x idol!fem!reader

GENRE: smau, strangers to lovers, celebrity x celebrity, forbidden love, fluff, don’t let the first part of the smau fool you i swear it’s full on angst towards the end, slowest of the slow burns…

WARNINGS: contains profanities, horrible humour, kys/kms jokes, sexual innuendos, spelling errors, incorrect timestamps, probably some cringe-worthy moments, cyberbullying, racist and misogynistic comments made about reader, death threats, mentions/depictions of overworking, insomnia, eating disorders, not proofread etc. (i am not in anyway romanticising, encouraging or condoning the usage of these topics. purely for the plot and development of the story.)

STATUS: completed! (04/06/2023 – 08/08/2023)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please read! literally my first attempt at a smau so please don't flame me 💀 i must warn y’all that the timestamps are really all over the place, so DO NOT pay attention to them until stated. the content and depiction of the characters in this smau do not in anyway represent them in real life. chapters with ‘(hw)’ next to them indicates that they are half-written, in case y’all accidentally skip over it! last but not least, if you do end up enjoying it please like, comment (absolutely love reading comments!), and reblog! without further ado, enjoy!!

p.s this was written way before the actual airing of I-LAND 2 and not meant to be connected with the real show/contestants in anyway.

TAGS: #tfwy handsonyou

prologue - introducing LUMIÈRE part 1 | part 2

profile. one | two

chapter 1 - number 1 hater

chapter 2 - infant

chapter 3 - #prayersformarklee ✊🤞

chapter 4 - dog-eater…? (hw)

chapter 5 - breaking records(?)

chapter 6 - still employed!

chapter 7 - bad publicity is still publicity

chapter 8 - to hee or not to hee

chapter 9 - the heist

chapter 10 - trigger warning

chapter 11 - soompitydimpity

chapter 12 - chronic insomnia

chapter 13 - to hee after all

chapter 14 - wild pokémon heeseungie

chapter 15 - artists

chapter 16 - that should be me

chapter 17 - bills

chapter 18 - the elephant in the room (hw)

chapter 19 - if you let me

chapter 20 - trouble? travel! (hw)

chapter 21 - caught in a lie

chapter 22 - always on your side

chapter 23 - princess syndrome

chapter 24 - you (hw)

chapter 25 - golden thread

chapter 26 - way back home (hw)

chapter 27 - uh oh…

chapter 28 - fight or flight

chapter 29 - close friends

chapter 30 - paradoxx invasion

chapter 31 - ramen

chapter 32 - 080923 (hw)

chapter 33 - driver

chapter 34 - demure and honest

chapter 35 - p-platonic?!?

chapter 36 - friends don’t look at friends that way

chapter 37 - bungeoppang

chapter 38 - back to the way things were..?

chapter 39 - wheel of fortune

chapter 40 - i miss holding your hand (hw)

chapter 41 - sooha (real)

chapter 42 - rizzseung

chapter 43 - project luminescence

chapter 44 - i will go to you like the first snow (hw)

chapter 45 - it’s awfully quiet…

chapter 46 - jake pick me era?

chapter 47 - my life without you is a misery

chapter 48 - your honour, i’m innocent

chapter 49 - breaking my silence

chapter 50 - he’s being exploited!

chapter 51 (finale) - number 1 fan (hw)

epilogue - forever ruined by you

bonus chapter!

the exes talk

2K notes · View notes

pedge-page · 7 months

Note

omg imagine PK x Plushies i love you so much girl you are amazing

Plushies x Piss Kink Crossover - Joel Miller x F!Reader

Notes: The crossover that was bound to happen and its HEREREEEEEEEE. This is more Plushies!verse setting and they discover a lil piss kink.

Warnings: PissKink, Plushies humping, yes we are peeing on the plush, premature ejaculation, assisted male masturbation, crying, jealous!Joel, and a HINT (just a bit) of sub!Joel at the end

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“What’s this one? Benny the Buffalo?” Joel asks, staring down at the brown fuzzy stuffed animal in his hands.

“No, dummy, that’s Biscuit, the Bison,” you retort, not even looking at him as you continue reading.

The two of you are lying down on your new “shared” bed, and Joel has decided its time he get to know his roommates on first name basis.

“Course. And this?” He snatches the white rabbit next. “BunBun?”

“Carrot.”

“Appropriate. How about Ghosty over here?”

“Casper.”

“How original. Aaaannnddd....?” He shoves the next one in your face to get your attention: a fat baby chick with an enormous orange bill.

“Mr Quakers,” you answer matter-of-factly.

“I bet he’s loads of fun on that little nub of yours,” he snickers. He tosses the poor chick like a free-throw basketball across the room.

He grabs the next one, buried waaaay in the back of your bed under all the rest. “Alright, Let me guess… Hammy the Hamster.”

“No that’s—“ you take one look at the one currently in his palms: a medium sized hamster with bitty hands and a large head as big as his squat body. Quickly hiding your shocked expressions, you go back to your book and say very casually, “Um…that’s… Frank.”

“Frank?”

“Mhm.”

“Just Frank.”

“Yup.”

“Frank the Hamster. How does that make sense?”

“Well I didn’t name him.”

“And who did?"

You swallow, wondering why Joel’s got so many goddamn questions about the naming conventions of your stuffed animals. “Um … Frank did…”

“Stuck up fella, naming the thing after him. Who was this “Frank” then. Your uncle? Was he as perverted as me?”

“No. Frank’s… my ex.”

Your face feels hot, avoiding his gaze and trying to look anywhere but at him.

Joel stares at you with an unreadable expression, then back to the fisted squishy hamster plush. He contemplates for what feels like an eternity. There’s an uneasy silence hanging in the air, and your heart is beating out of your chest, wondering what he may be thinking about those word resonating in his ears.

He clenches his jaw, gritting his teeth into diamonds while looking at something so extremely soft and huggable. You hope maybe he’ll just dropkick it out the window at worst, but instead:

“Hands and knees on the floor. We’re fucking Frankie the Hamster tonight.”

There was no “we”. What he really meant was YOU are fucking Frank the Hamster tonight, and he is pinning you down and forcing you to grind on it harder.

“Joel—that—feels… uncomfortable.”

He’s not rubbing his cock along your ass, or nudging your clit or kissing you. Instead, he’s caged you between the thick mass of his sold body and the hamster on the floor, your legs spread out with his knees along the inside of your calves to keep them open.

He keeps rubbing along your pelvis, palm digging into the squishy part right below your belly, pressing hard against your bladder.

“Joel,” you warn again. Your legs quiver with the rapid build, too afraid to push him off entirely. He’s steaming, that’s for sure, but why torture you above the little helpless guy?

“S’matter? You don’t like rubbing your slutty pussy over your ex’s face?”

“It’s just a stuffed animal—ow!” You cry as Joel pinches your nipple through your shirt.

“You grind on Frankie’s face before?”

“N-no. Never,” you swear.

“Mmm. Not sure I believe you, sweet pea. Kept him all these years, didn’t ya?”

You shake your head, too afraid to face him. You really hadn’t been grinding on the hamster ever. In fact, you nearly forgetting of his existence until Joel fished him up while asking everyone’s name.

He forces your back to arch even more drastically, putting more pressure between your naked cunt and the soft squish bellow you. You furrow your brows, fear creeping between your spread legs, unable to clench against something to brush off the mounting pressure in you.

“Joel please—I really need to go...” you didn't want to finish the sentences. He wasn't pleasuring with his hands you in the right places so much as building pressure in the wrong one.

“Go where? I’m all you need. Right. Here.” His fingers dig possessively into your side while his other hand pushes into your lower belly.

You shake your head again. Heart racing now that you no longer care about your pleasure and are more concerned with the mess of forbidden bodily fluids you’re about to rain all over your poor Frankie—

It hits you with burning desire mixed with an irksome bile. You gasp out angrily.

This. Mother. Fucking. Asshole.

Joel smirks into your neck behind you, as if reading your mind figuring out his evil little plan.

“S’wrong, angel? Would you rather be doing this with any of MY plushies I’ve spoiled you with?”

“I—you—“ you grit your teeth, eyes closing as a wave of panic washes deep through your core. You’re desperate not to make a mess, a fool of yourself to tame his sadistic need to own every inch of control over you.

He hears the little staggered pants from your lips. “Do it,” he commands softly but with finality, laced with a sadistic “win” for him.

A tear slips down your cheek as you moan sadly, your stomach giving up and unclenching as the walls of your bladder breaks, and hot urine spills into the stuffed animal’s face currently wedged so tightly against your entrance.

“Shhhhhh,” he coos, finally grinding himself against your ass. He can hear the feint rushing liquid of your piss splatting into the cotton.

He presses you further into its plush softness, suffocating every inch of your crotch so that it absorbs all the nasty warm juice squeezing out of you like a lemon. Your legs quiver violently as you can’t help but release more and more, flowing out as if by his demand and feeling the poor plush get heavy with the rush filling its cotton innards up.

"Naughty girl, am I making you piss all over your ex's face? Little Frankie doesn't deserve that does he?" He taunts, fully well intending for this to exactly happen as he wanred.

There’s so much, and another tear slips passed you, but this one because it feels so—relieving. It’s gross and nasty, embarrassing and heartbreaking all at once, and it makes you hump against him and the dampened hamster even more.

Joel feel the quickened breaths coming out desperately from your nose as you grind down on the defiled thing all soaked up with your own piss. Your hips are frantic, smothering your cunt with the piss-logged plush desperately, as if you were trying to...

“Shit—are you…?”

You cry out in response, mouth agape with satisfied groans when you clit catches along the wet seams just right and you find yourself cumming on the sad wet thing drowned below you.

Joel clears his throat in surprise. His cock pulses on its own and floods the inside of his pants in white strings of his seed.

Did he think you would probably cry? Yes.

Did he want you to pee and destroy your ex’s little gift to you? Yes.

Did he expect you to fucking cum from it? Um.

Did he know HE would cum from it??? No. Definitely not.

His teeth grind against one another trying not to think about how perverted he is, pulling away from you so you can’t feel his sticky spent through his trousers and on to your back.

The squishy lump below you begins seeping the now cooled piss into the floor boards. You sigh deeply, not sure what to do now that your little punishment has turned into—something wilder.

You feel a gentle kiss along your cheek, his thumb caressing away your tears.

“That was hot,” He admits plainly.

You cover your face to hide your smile. It’s gross. It really is. Should be embarrassing. You don’t even want to think about the hamster on the floor, the memories you’ve just soddened with your own fucking piss.

He helps you off the floor. Your thighs still shake, the uncomfortable feeling hanging there in disgust now that you’re mentally sober again.

He guides you to the shower where you both wash up quietly.

“Um—listen I didn’t… I don’t know why you would keep your ex’s stuff but…I mean I’m reasonably… it doesn’t make me feel great, so ya can’t blame me, for getting jealous—“

You shut him up but tugging against his half hard cock.

“First of all,” you say, the sudden boldness in your voice blanking his mind into submission under your touch.

“That plush, was from my first boyfriend—in high school. We dated for 2 months,” you continued, your fingers gripping his base with a gentle squeeze, feeling him swell to full mass, “and then he realized he liked boys. That was it. We laughed about it and stayed good friends. He gave me the stuffed animal as a parting gift to college for helping him through it all.”

You stop rubbing his cock and Joel opens his eyes. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So…Frank’s just… a friend…”

You kiss his collarbone. “Just a friend,” you repeat.

The water coats his back soothingly. An ache that had formed in his muscles, the strain of aggression tickling his brain from the minute he heard you had a stuffed animal named after your ex, still in your bed after years, had suddenly vanished.

“Why—why would you say hes your ex and not just your old friend? Why'd ya let me make you do that to it?” He asks, concerned now that he’s ruined something sentimental to you over his quickness to jealousy.

“Because—“ you nip along the swell of his chest, both hands working along his hardened cock. “You wanted it.” Your thumb swipes along his tip, the precum feeling sticky despite the shower water drenching you.

He moans, head falling into your shoulder as he thrusts his length into your palm.

As your wrist continues to jerk him off, your lips ghost the shell of his ear with a deadly, lascivious whisper:

“And I’m too crazy for you to say no.”

- - - -

Permanent Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrs-oharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee

308 notes · View notes

ofstoriesandstardust · 1 month

Text

can't take the home out of oklahoma - iiii. (k.c.)

a/n: dear God the behemoth of the crossover fic is finally finished. please remember to be kind in my comments, but of course i'd love to hear what everyone thought :). if you're new here, you can check out the other three parts here

summary: Two years after leaving California, Tyler hears from Jake, asking him to come to his engagement party. With an offer of putting the whole crew up in a hotel for two nights and an off-season lull, Tyler accepts. Two years after leaving California, you finally have to confront Javy.

warnings: background iceman and hangster, happy ending, alcohol, swearing, please remember we are all the villains in someone's story thank you

word count: 13.2k

“So, I was thinking-”

“Dangerous thing.” Kate mutters around a bite of waffle, prompting a fit of giggling from the two of you as Tyler narrows his eyes.

“-I was thinking, instead of heading out to Arkansas straight after the end of the season, we take a road trip.”

“Where you thinking T?” Boone asks as you pick up your coffee cup.

“San Diego, California.”

You freeze, eyes flickering over to the blonde over the rim of your coffee cup, thankful you hadn’t taken a sip of the hot liquid yet.

“What the hell, Owens?” You ask tersely, setting the mug down harder than you intend to, the brown liquid sloshing over the side.

Tyler is pointedly avoiding your look as he sighs, shoulders deflating. “Look, my brother called. He- He’s getting married.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “To Bradley?”

He nods, confirming. “Anyways, they’re having an engagement party out at Brad’s godfather’s. Jake’s invited us, all of us. Offered to put us all up in a hotel for two nights. I was uh- thinking about going.”

“I think I’ll sit this out.” You say quietly, pushing your chair out.

“Yeah, I ain’t so sure it’s the best idea to throw her into all of that.” Dani says, Lilly nodding alongside her.

The girls had been told the story of your fiery departure from your hometown one night this past season, motel beds pushed together, wine drunk and cheap pizza forgotten. You’d told Dexter a week later, while you remarked on your ex-boyfriend’s love for a Louisiana crab boil, after you all had crossed into Louisiana to follow a storm.

“Jake asked specifically about you.” Tyler admits quietly.

You sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. “I don’t think the rest of them care to see me.”

“We’ll make it work, okay? I ain’t gonna let anybody come at you.” Tyler pleads and you sigh again.

You look at him for a moment but that’s all you need. It’s clear that Jake reaching out, asking him to come to this monumental event, means a great deal to him and you know as his family, it’s only right to step up to the plate for Tyler, no matter how uncomfortable it might make you.

You know Tyler would do the same for you in a heartbeat.

“Okay, T. I’ll go with you guys.”

His grin is splitting as Boone whoops, already chattering about the beach.

“I ain’t promising to be nice to them.”

Your words don’t even phase Tyler.

“Wouldn’t even dreaming of asking that of you, kid.”

The blue water sparkles as you peer out the window, the golden sunlight making it shine.

“Jesus, I forget how blue it is.” You whisper to yourself as you take in downtown.

The skyscrapers peer down back at you, the boats in the bay dotted across the docks. In the distance, you can see the outlines figures of the USS Midway and the Star of India.

“How you feeling?”

You shake your head, looking back at Kate. “It’s weird, kind of. Disorientating. I remember the first time I came home from college, it’s kind of like that. It all looks the same but the world kept turning after you left. Life kept going even though you’re not there to witness it.”

She reaches out to squeeze your hand from the back of the truck. “I get what you mean.”

Tyler glances at the two of you from his position in the drivers seat. The group had elected to take the van and your car, the SUV you’d bought last winter after you’d gotten sick of sharing Kate’s own storm chasing truck.

Tyler’s red truck and Kate’s pickup had just not suited themselves to a cross country road-trip, which led you and Kate to driving most of the way. Tyler had finally corralled you into giving him the keys, under the condition you would sit passenger seat and give him directions.

“Hey T, can we stop and get food before this thing?”

Boone’s voice crackles over the radio and Tyler grabs it. You hadn’t really needed a radio of your own, but Boone and Tyler had insisted, outfitted the whole thing themselves. It sort of made you feel like a kid again, shouting across the room with your siblings in lieu of having walkie talkies while you played — everything followed with an OVER.

“I think they’re gonna feed us there Booney.”

“Tyler, I am a starved woman. You rushed us out of breakfast this morning and we’ve been up before the sun was. It’s almost three in the afternoon and California already said we’ve got a decent drive across the city to get to this place. We’re stopping.” Dani’s voices comes through and Kate lets out a laugh from her seat.

“Know any good places California?”

You light up at Boone’s question, reaching for the radio but Tyler holds it just out of reach.

“If you suggest In-N-Out one more time, I will drive this car into the ocean, so help me God.”

Niall Horan’s voice floats softly through the speakers as the car creaks to a stop in front of a familiar house.

Your stomach flips as the barbecue from a locally owned joint near your Mom’s threatens to resurface. You distantly recall telling the group you’d been friends with the owners daughter in high school in a sad attempt to drown out Boone’s loud voice saying it would never be as good as Cathy’s.

“You good California?” Javi asks and you startle, not even having realized you’d pulled yourself from the car. “You’re looking a little queasy there.”

“Nerves.” You breathe and Kate takes your hand, squeezing it.

“Thought you said they were nice.” Lilly says.

“They are.” Just not to me.

“This is quite the affair.” Dexter comments, glancing around the street as you walk up the road. “There’s hardly any spaces left.”

“Bradley’s family is big.” You blurt out. “Lots of retired pilots who are probably thrilled to see their Baby Goose get married. Lots of friends from the service too I’m guessing.”

“I wouldn’t want to be footing the bill for that wedding.” Dani whistles.

The group begins to chatter and you wince, feeling your stomach roll as you step onto the grass.

“You got this.” Kate whispers as you follow Tyler to the front porch. Tyler reaches out to press the doorbell, only to pull back at the last second.

You raise your eyebrows. You don’t think you’ve seen the Tyler Owens cower back down from anything, much less a doorbell separating him from his twin.

“You do it.” He says to you, stepping back.

“Me do it?” You ask incredulously. “You want to be kicked out before we ever step foot inside?”

“I’ll do it.” Kate volunteers. She rings the doorbell, a short buzz followed by the sound of an I got it Mom! from somewhere inside behind the closed door.

The door opens a few minutes later, revealing the now-taller daughter of Penny Benjamin. She blinks at the rag-tag crew. “Can I help you?”

“Hi. I’m Kate and this is Tyler, we’re here for-“ Kate cuts herself off under the rather impressive stare of Amelia. Kate tugs on your arm, pulling you into view. “Here, you talk to the scary teenager.”

“Hi Amelia.” You say softly.

Amelia’s face lights up at the sight of you, exclaiming your name, drawing the attention of Tom as he rounds the corner to see who was at the door. Tom appears over her shoulder, nudging the girl back inside the house.

“Tell Jake his brother’s here!” Tom calls after her before turning his attention back to your crew. “You must be Tyler and his crew. Jake mentioned that you guys would be stopping by. They’re all out in the back playing dogfight football.”

Dogfight football? Tyler mouths to you as you all step inside the foyer. You shrug at his confused look.

Long story you mouth back.

“Anyways, I’m Tom, I’m one of Brad’s godfathers. I can take you all out to the back to meet the group?”

You let your friends filter in front of you, hanging by the entrance to the kitchen and living room area.

“I’m just gonna…” You mutter, letting your friends file out the glass door after Amelia and Tom. Penny gives you an unimpressed look from where she catches sight of you at the kitchen island and you give a sheepish shrug, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Selfish self-perseveration, sue me.”

Pete glances up at you from one of the cabinets at the sound of your voice, lighting up as he does. “Well kid, I do have to say we never expected to see you again.” He holds out his arms and you grin, taking the invitation for a hug.

If there was anything you’d learned about Pete Mitchell in the two and a half years you’d spent around his pilots, was that he offered Dad hugs to anyone at any chance he got. And boy, were they some of the safest hugs you’d ever had.

“Hi Pete.” You say into his shoulder as he squeezes you.

He pulls back, studying you. His thumb ghosts over a new scar on your cheek (thanks to an ill-timed rocket from Boone) and taking in the new piercings. “You look good kid.”

“Thanks.” You breathe, unable to stop the genuine smile at earning his approval.

His hand rests on your shoulder, guiding you farther into the kitchen. “Nick and Carole are outside with Coyote’s Dad and brother getting all the fixings grilled up. Do you want anything to drink?”

You pause, stopping next to Javy’s Mom Lydia. You swallow, unsure of how she’ll react to you as you tell Pete you don’t want anything. He nods, grabbing his glass and nudging Penny towards the back patio after her daughter.

“Hi Lydia.” You say softly. She studies you for a moment before pulling you into a tight hug. You melt into her touch, knowing you had accepted you may never get it again.

You think of all the times you’d gotten the same hug from her, the innate soft care and compassion the woman had offered you, the same one she’d passed down to her son.

You pull back, smiling at Javy’s sister-in-law (it seems like James had finally put a ring on it) and the little boy she holds in her arms. “Hi Scarlet.”

The girl gives you a big grin. “How you doing?”

“I’m good.” You answer. “Yeah, I’ve been good.”

She smiles. “Good to hear.” She glances over Lydia’s shoulder. “Would you want to hold baby Jameson here for a minute while Dia and I go grab something from outside?”

Your eyes grow wide. “You want me to hold your baby?”

She shrugs. “I trusted you enough back then, I doubt I can’t trust you now.”

You swallow, nodding. “Yeah, yeah of course.” You take the boy gingerly from her arms as he grins up real big at you. The boy only has two teeth but it looks like the nub of a third is growing in. “You and James make really cute babies.”

“I know.” She says smugly, before heading outside with Lydia.

You bounce the baby in your arms gently, cooing at him softly.

“I sort of feel like I’m watching some alternate version of my future right now.” You gasp, whipping towards the sound of the voice.

Leaning up against the doorjamb is Javy.

The same Javy you’d fallen in love with all those years ago, a fond and yet pained smile on his face as he sticks his hands in his pockets.

“Self preservation doesn’t work if you’re not outside with all your friends.” You breathe out as Jameson starts making grabby hands for his uncle. Javy walks towards the boy, letting him take his finger. It quickly becomes his new favorite chew toy as he shrugs.

You snort as Javy smiles down at the kid. “Wanted to change. Scarlet knew I was in here so now I’m kinda figuring she left him here with you so we’d have to be civil.” You swallow, all humor leaving you as your eyes dart around the kitchen.

In all the years you’d been gone, the Mitchell-Kazansky house hadn’t changed all that much. Maybe there were a few more pictures on the fridge, a coupon for a new pizza place, new throw pillows on the same worn couch, but the small beach front property that was inherently them had remained the same.

“I don’t- I never expected- How are you here?” Javy asks, finally landing on words after a minute of silence and restarted attempts.

“Jake’s brother.” You say quietly. “I’ve been working with Tyler in Oklahoma.”

Javy reels back, Jameson letting go of his finger as he does. The toddler is quick to shift his attention to your hair, tugging on it. You wince. “Okay, I probably deserve this.” You mutter after a particularly hard yank from the toddler’s fist.

Javy snorts, and you think it surprises him as much as it does you as a shy, goofy smile flickers on his face. “In another life, you were probably his auntie.”

The words are meant to be light-hearted but they’re like an iron punch as the breath gets knocked clean from your lungs.

“Javy-“

“Sorry, that wasn’t funny.” He dismisses as he crosses his arms. “So- Oklahoma huh? You liking it? The countryside is the last place I expected you to end up but you, uh- you look like you’re doing well.”

You swallow around the lump that’s growing in your throat at the grief you’re having to confront earlier than you had anticipated.

“I- Yeah, I like it out there. I’m good. Happy.”

“I’m actually uh, not surprised to hear it. That you’re in Oklahoma. Just surprised at finally getting the confirmation.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, about a year ago, Fanboy had one of their streams on. He was just a casual fan, you know, background noise. The camera couldn’t have been on you for more than thirty seconds but I swore it was you. I made him go back and replay it a hundred times, I pulled up a hundred examples from other videos on the channel. The team was so convinced I was starting to lose it that Fanboy got banned from playing those streams anymore. Your hair was shorter in that first video, but I just- I knew it was you.”

You hum, thinking to yourself. You’d appeared in the background of streams and edited videos countless times, but there had only been one haircut in two years. “It must’ve been after the rocket incident.”

His eyes go wide. “The rocket incident?”

“Boone still feels bad and Ty won’t let anyone really bring it up because it makes his blood pressure rise but imagine my surprise when I’m fiddling with something on top on the truck and Boone leans over on the console and accidentally sets off a rocket.”

“That would only happen to you.”

You snort. “I know. Most of the hair on one side was singed off anyways so I took the kitchen shears we have and chopped it all off in the back of the RV after we left urgent care.”

A beat passes as he drums his fingers against the countertop. “Hey, how long are you in town for?”

“We’re supposed to leave sometime tomorrow, we’re gonna stop off in Vegas. Why?”

“I was gonna see if you wanted to stop by the house. I’ve still got, actually quite a lot of your stuff. Like keepsakes and stuff your Mom tried to get rid of. If you wanted to swing by on your way out and pick through it.”

You nod. “Yeah, I should be able to fit that in.” You reach a hand out, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, how was Bob and Sophia’s wedding?”

“The kind of classy country you can only imagine. It was so them.”

“Did you cry?” You tease and he ducks his head.

“Maybe shed a tear or two.”

“Hey, how’s your Mom?” You ask softly.

You remember all too well Javy getting that phone call.

Four days before you were meant to defend your Masters thesis, Javy had gotten a call from his Mom, telling him that she had been diagnosed with DCIS — breast cancer.

It had been non-invasive, thankfully, and after a quickly scheduled surgery, Lydia had expected to have a full recovery.

Still — it had been a terrifying few weeks for Javy and you’d written out and deleted a hundred text messages to him on each anniversary of the diagnosis.

“She’s good.” He says softly. “Still no signs of a return. Thanks for asking.”

You nod. “I think about her a lot. And you, you know. How you all are doing. If she’s healthy, if you’re safe.”

His eyes shine with a feeling you can’t quite name, but can describe only as a response to hearing words he never thought he’d hear but mean more to him then he’ll ever admit.

“I think about you too. If you’re happy, if you’re happier than you were with me. If you found what it was you had been searching for.” He shakes his head, clearing your throat. “Grieving someone who was still alive-“ He lets out a low whistle.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. You know he hears you but he doesn’t say anything, letting the two of you exist in silence as baby Jameson babbles nonsensically.

“I can’t help but ask — you dating anyone?”

The questions feels so stilted as you swallow. You knew he was trying to play at some cool nonchalance but he missed by a mile; it was obvious your answer meant a great deal to him. “I am.” He raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for more information. “I have a girlfriend.”

“What’s this girlfriend’s name?”

You shake your head. “Don’t think it’s appropriate to bring her into this.”

He sighs, letting his weight rest against the kitchen island. “I guess that’s fair. You were always more mature than me about stuff.”

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes, the hollers of his friends from the back patio coming closer. You have a hundred questions for him and he probably has a thousand more for you but you both know you can’t ask them in this moment. His team must have come up off the beach and would probably be headed inside soon. His eyes flicker towards the back door, probably making the same assumptions as you.

“Hey, do- do you think we could talk sometime tonight?” Your eyes flicker over to him, seeing the pain in them so clear. It feels unnatural to not reach out and smooth out the lines in between his eyebrows. “Now’s not the time but I- uh-“ He cuts himself off, shaking his head.

You nod. “Yeah, we can. Just- later, okay?”

You owed him closure. After the way you’d left, with the way you’d burned him, you owed him that at the very least.

Kate would understand.

The backdoor slides open, the pilots shuffling in. Behind them, you can see the Wranglers, save for Kate and Tyler, take hesitant seats on the couches. It looks like Dexter’s still outside.

“Holy shit!” Omaha yells, sliding his sunglasses up. The pilots turn, a bunch of oohs being tossed up.

“Does anybody else get the weird feeling we walked into some weird alternate timeline where her and Coyote got married and had kids?” Payback asks and Javy lets out a low groan.

“Aliens.” Fanboy breathes out and his pilot tosses him a strange look.

“It’s like seeing a ghost.” Natasha comments.

“Yeah, a really bitchy ghost.” Omaha adds and you turn sharply, plopping the toddler into his uncle’s arms.

“Would you look at that, some things really do never change. I still really hate your friends.”

“Can I have a hug?” Jake blurts out, silencing his friends.

You raise an eyebrow as you give him a once-over. “Um, I guess. If you put a shirt on first.”

Mickey hits his pilot as Jake disappears around the corner. “My alien theory isn’t so weird now, is it?”

Payback winces, rubbing his stomach where Mickey had smacked him. “Nice to see you too Mickey.” You say, rounding the kitchen island.

The boy gives you a nervous smile. It’s an odd look on the boy who’d always greeted you with a wide grin, home-cooked food, and a picture of his new Lego set. It’s an odd look for the kid who’d probably been your favorite of Javy’s friends, and definitely the closest to you, so long as no one said that in front of Bradley. (Bradley Bradshaw had taken it upon himself to name his role in your life as unintentional big brother). “Hey.”

Jake reappears, having tugged one of Bradley’s old Top Gun shirts over his head. “Hi.” He says softly, stopping in front of you. “Can I have a hug now?”

You sigh. “Fine, I guess.”

You’re not sure what you’re expecting from Jake (a hug certainly wasn’t on the table) but his hug is tight, borderline painful as you hesitantly and awkwardly wrap your arms around his much larger and taller frame. You step back as someone clears their throat. Jake lets you go willingly as Boone reaches out for your wrist, tugging you to sit down in between him and Dani.

Jake turns, facing the person who’s just walked into the house.

“Knock knock.” She says and your head turns, catching sight of Lainey’s blond hair. Javi reaches around Boone, nudging your back, reminding you to breathe as Jake’s face lights up. “Wait, there’s two of you?”

“Lainey! Didn’t think you’d make it! Yeah, uh, this is my twin brother Tyler. We, uh don’t talk much.”

“Oh, we know.” You say under your breath, only loud enough for your friends to hear, and Boone spits out a laugh, Javi having to cough into his fist to cover up his own laughter.

Tyler snaps, eyes narrowing, turning to you. “I thought you’d agreed to being on your best behavior.”

“I didn’t say anything!” You defend, which elicits a loud laugh from Dani as Lilly throws out a “Stop being so hard on her T!”

Tyler huffs, his hands fall to his waist and you have to bite back a giggle that eventually falls out anyways when you see Kate doing the same thing.

“You’re such a Dad, T.” You say through a laugh, shaking your head which elicits laughter from the whole group.

Lainey turns as you talk, face softening. “I didn’t think any of us would ever see you again. Where you’ve been?”

“Oklahoma!” Javy shouts from across the kitchen. It sends his friends into an uproar, reeling from the fact.

“See, my aliens theory is looking more and more true!”

Kate doesn’t want to admit that her stomach drops at the sight of your ex quietly slipping out the door after you but she knows it’s warranted given the way all his friends notice.

“What’re the odds she gives Javy another chance?” Jake’s fiancé asks Jake. Jake lets out some discontented noise from the back of his throat before pushing himself off his seat on the floor and meandering into the kitchen.

“I will put money on her coming back. I’m so Team Javy, you know this.” One of the other pilots (Fanboy, her brain recalls).

“I’m team her staying in Oklahoma with her girlfriend. She’s earned that quiet life.” One of the girlfriends (Kaycee, she’s dating Phoenix, you’d run through all the possible attendees with her and Tyler in the car this morning in the quiet calm, dawn barely peaking over the horizon) pipes up with.

“Of course you’re on her side.” One of the others says. “You always liked her more than the rest of us.”

Kaycee’s eyes slide up to the man. “Well yeah, Payback, I was the one consoling at her at every group event when Hangman came down on her and made her feel unwanted. So of fucking course I don’t want her to get back together with the guy

whose friends made her feel like shit.”

“You take that too seriously, K. We were obviously just fooling around, not our fault she’s too sensitive.”

The girl’s eyes narrow at the man. “Omaha, so help me-“

“She’s not your piece of meat to fight over!” Dani finally bursts. The in-fighting stops abruptly as the attention turns to them. “I’m just saying- if she’s happy, can’t you just leave her be? She’s a person, not some object for y’all to fight about.”

The group all but forgets Dani even said anything when the one with the glasses turns back to Bradley. “You really think she’ll take Javy back?”

“A hundred percent. You remember how she used to look at him. And he was ass over teacups for her. Remember that year she bought him the Saints jersey with his last name on the back and he near lost his mind the first time she stole it to wear?”

“Dude, he wasn’t half as bad dating as he was before. Remember the first time he brought her to the Hard Deck and he insisted he buy every drink for her?” Mickey chimes in.

“I remember when they came to the house for the first time to watch a movie and Mickey kept teasing her about not doing anything on the couch, I thought Coyote was gonna drown Mick in the pool. He was so desperate to impress her and yelled at us for potentially making it so she never talked to him again.” Bob adds through a laugh. “Which she totally did, she fucking loved him from the first time they matched. Remember how his hands used to start sweating cause he got so nervous around her?”

She glances at Javi and Boone next to her, glad to see her own unease is mirrored on their faces. Lilly’s reminder from earlier resurfaces in her mind as she plays with tab on her soda can.

She loves you Kate. She wouldn’t go anywhere in the world you ain’t.

“Coyote’s always had a way with words around her. He’ll say the right thing, tell her he’ll miss her, and she’ll come back just like she was always meant to.” Phoenix comments and she swallows, looking down at her jeans.

Javi and Boone both stand up next to her, a whispered conversation happening she doesn’t care to try and hear as their exit goes unnoticed. The discomfort and unease in her stomach grows, feeling her whole world tilt at the thought that someone may say something to make you realize you’d been wrong to come to Oklahoma, wrong to love her, and that you’d go back to the place you had belonged this whole time.

She catches Tyler’s eye, a stormy look growing on his face.

I don’t like this, it says.

She didn’t either.

“See, I’d ask if you’re just taking a breather, but I know you, so you’re definitely hiding.”

Your eyes shoot up at Javy as he gently shuts the front door to the house, moving to sit down on the porch swing across from where you’re resting your weight on the porch railing.

“Yeah, well, when they start eating my food straight from my hands I think I have to bow out.”

He grins at the memory.

Just half an hour ago, you’d been trying to shove Boone off of you as he attempted to take a bite of your burger, crowded up into Lilly and Dani’s space more than they probably ever wanted you to be. Javi had leaned over, taking a huge bite of burger as it had been sitting in your hand farthest away from Boone’s reach and you’d frozen in shock when you’d seen what he’d done out of your periphery.

Dexter had tried to save face, over the sound of Dani yelling about how foul the move was, by saying that usually the lot of you were much more civilized but Tyler and Kate had immediately refuted it with a unified no, we ain’t. It had been all the encouragement you needed to plop what was left of the burger in Javi’s hand and to disappear outside.

“They seem to really like you. That one, Boone, was telling me we weren’t allowed to have you back. You’re theirs now.”

You sigh, crossing your arms. “They’re- they’re really good to me. They’re family.”

“I’ll admit that’s kind of hard to hear. Rooster and Fanboy kinda seem to be under the impression that you still might come back. Mav too. If I play my cards right.”

You let out another sigh, looking away from him. “Javy, don’t even go there. Please don’t start that with me, cause you aren’t gonna like what I have to say.”

He shifts, bending to lean on his knees as he does his best to catch your eye. “What can I say to fix this? What can I say to convince you to come home?”

“Oklahoma is my home!” You insist, feeling frustration begin to tighten in your chest.

“No the hell it isn’t. How many times did you say your heart belonged here? How many times did you say you were meant for city living by the beach? And now you’re telling me that you live on a farm in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Oklahoma and you just what, love your life? I don’t believe that. Not for a minute.”

A whimper of frustration slips out as your hands come down to scrub your face. “Javy.” You say shakily. “I am happy to have any kind of closure conversation you need to have to find peace and move on. But if this is going to be about you trying to convince me to come back to a life I don’t want anymore, then I will go back inside.” You say, mustering up a calm tone you don’t feel and he reels back as if you’ve hit him.

“I just don’t understand.” He says softly and your shoulders deflate. “I love you. You were my whole world, I wanted everything with you. I don’t understand. Help me understand.”

His voice cracks and the lump in your throat from earlier reappears. “I was- I was unhappy for a really long time Javy.”

He immediately shakes his head, cutting you off. “No, no that’s bullshit. I know that’s bullshit. C’mon, was there someone else?”

“Are you insinuating I fucking cheated on you?” You near shout, straightening up.

“Well!” He matches the raise in voice, standing up from the porch swing.

“That’s bullshit.” You say. “If I recall, I was 25, working a dead end barista job because the masters degree I went into thousands of dollars of debt for proved to be useless with a boyfriend who let his friends walk all over me! I didn’t just wake up that day and decide I was miserable Javy! It was a slow build, a build you contributed to!”

The front door opens and shuts and you spare a glance to see Boone and Javi lingering by the front door.

Later, they’ll confess to you that the only reason they’d ventured outside to interrupt the conversation is because the pilots inside had gotten so smug in their surety that Javy would convince you to leave Oklahoma to be with him, they’d started to worry about you being alone on the porch.

Javi had hastily assured you that they didn’t think you couldn’t handle yourself, but he was afraid he’d hit all your guilty spots, Boone sure he’d say all the things you’d wanted to hear back then, and you’d leave the Wranglers without so much as backwards glance. They’d wanted you to know they had your back.

They’ll admit it was selfish of them and Dani will tell them they’re stupid for not remembering how much you love your life here, and you’ll tell them that you’re not angry, that their intentions had been good.

All their presence does now in this moment though is piss your ex-boyfriend off as he throws his hands up. “Can’t even have one conversation without your little fucking guard dogs, huh? Little side pieces behind your girlfriend’s back?”

“Stop it.” You say sternly. “Stop going there. You know I was never unfaithful to you, you know that I never would’ve done that.”

“I don’t know if I ever knew you at all. Not really. So yeah, who’s to say if you aren’t a cheater if you were quietly miserable enough to dump me and run halfway across the country.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “God, you’re not listening to me. You didn’t listen to me then, you don’t listen to me now.”

“All I ever did was fucking listen to you! You never shut up!”

Boone lets out a “Hey man!” alongside Javi’s “Whoa there.”

“Don’t talk to her like that man.” Boone says. “Have some respect, that there’s a lady and she was a lady you cared a lot about, so be nice.” Boone drawls.

Your ex fixes him with a glare that would’ve made a weaker man whimper, but Boone isn’t one to back down. He drives into tornados and shoots rockets at them for fuck’s sake.

Unintentionally or not, Boone’s intervention gives you the pause you need to take a deep breath and collect yourself. “Javy.” You start, softer this time. His eyes snap over to yours. “I understand the anger and frustration and the confusion. I know that I left rather suddenly and I never gave you any explanation as to why. But you have to know, we were fighting all the time and I was so unhappy, not just in my relationship with you, but in my job and myself. And after Texas, I snapped. It was a catalyst event that permanently altered the course of my life.”

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “The fuck does Texas have to do with anything?”

You sigh. “You keep saying that you still love me, yeah? The problem with that Javy is that you’re in love with a version of me that doesn’t exist anymore. That girl that you loved died in Texas and she’s never coming back.”

“I still don’t understand.” You sigh, licking your lips as you glance at your friends. Javy’s voice is rising again but you know that you’ll never be able to get him to understand the truth without blowing up Jake’s spot. And truthfully, maybe it’s long past due. “We were in love, we were happy, you were my best friend. We go to Texas for Bob’s bachelor party and three days later, you’re dumping me to go hop on a plane to Oklahoma to never be seen again. That doesn’t make any fucking sense! What the hell does Texas have to do with anything?!”

You move faster than you let your brain think about it, sliding through your friends as you push open the front door, striding through the foyer. You catch Bradley’s eye as you do so and he straightens. “Where the fuck is Jake?”

Jake comes into view as he shuts the fridge, turning to face you. “What?” He asks tiredly, but judging by the look on his face, you think he already knows.

“I want you to be honest.” You say, every bit of the calm you’d tried to collect slipping through your grasp as you inch closer to Dani and Lilly. “Tell them the truth about what happened in Texas.”

“Are we really doing this?” He asks, plopping down on one of the bar stools by the kitchen island.

“You owe me, Seresin. After everything you put me through, you owe me.”

Jake sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face as Javy’s head swings wildly between the two of you.

Just when you’re about to turn and accept the villain narrative these men had decided for you, Jake sighs again. “I asked her to lie about the rodeo.” He says quietly. “We never made it to shelter.”

“So? A little wind, a little rain, that’s your excuse for going off the deep end?” Javy snaps but Jake isn’t finished.

“We watched Steven die.”

The silence that follows is one you never want to experience again as the whole room tunnels in on Jake. Lilly stands up, Dani not far behind her, nudging you towards the door and silently talking over your head to your friends but you feel rooted to your spot.

“What?” Lainey asks first, pushing her self up as she takes shaky breaths. “You- you saw him die? And you never told me?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that Jake?” Bradley asks quietly, a quiet concern and cool anger laced into the words.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know if I was trying to protect her or me but I did it anyways. It’s why I gave her Tyler’s number.” He says, finally raising his eyes to meet the room. “I’m the one who gave her Tyler’s info. When she dumped Coyote that day, I knew she was a serious flight risk in more ways than one and I- I knew if I could get her to Tyler, he’d take care of her. I knew she’d be safe with Ty. And I mean obviously he did.” He says, waving a hand at his brother and Kate. “I owed it to her after all this times I said those things about y’alls sex life, all those times I made fun of her behind your back. I mean, everything I said about her age or about how you guys wouldn’t work long-term so you guys would break up-“ Jake cuts himself off, sniffing. “I was awful to her under the guise of trying to be a good friend but I was a rotten friend and a rotten person and I’m sorry.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You expect it to be Javy but it’s Tyler and you think you can see his hand shake as he pulls himself off of the couch.

“Genuinely, you haven’t changed a day. You’re still that same piece of shit you were then, when you couldn’t bother showing up to our grandparents funeral, the people who raised us, because of some stupid little trophy. You’re out here a decade later making a poor girl in her twenties who was simply trying to exist with the guy she loved feel like her life isn’t worth living anymore, that she doesn’t offer anything of value to this world.”

“But, I mean- it worked out right? she’s been with you guys and she’s happier than she’s ever been in her whole life.”

“Oh, sure no, it worked out.” Javi intervenes. “If you discount the irreversible trauma and her inherent belief that she would always, eventually, force the people around her to see her as a burden, then yeah, it totally worked out.”

“Which we’re still working on undoing, by the way. Thanks for that. ” Dani comments dryly.

“Okay, hey, hold on- that’s not all on Jake.” You interrupt and Bradley’s head swings towards you.

“Are you seriously fucking defending him right now?”

“I’m defending him because that’s wrong! What Jake did didn’t do anything other than reinforce an idea I have held about myself my whole life, Bradshaw! But you don’t get that, just like you never got it back then! You had two parents who loved you unconditionally and friends and all the support in the world! I’ve never had that! I grew up with a piece of shit family, I grew up with awful friends and an even worse ex-boyfriend, and you people refused to ever understand the life I came from! Don’t pin that all on Jake!”

Lilly tugs on your arm, telling you to breathe and it’s the first time you realize you’re even crying.

In a flash, you dig the keys for one of the cars out from Lilly’s pocket, turning on your heel. Your friends call out after you but you don’t listen to them as you wipe tears from your eyes, vision blurry as you make your way towards the car.

And then someone’s there, wrestling the keys from your grasp.

It’s Javi.

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” He says softly. “I just- don’t want you driving right now.”

You nod, climbing into the car passenger seat. Once you’re in, Javi reaches over the console to give you a hug. It’s at an awkward angle and you can’t stop crying, but it’s warm and safe and all you need in that moment.

“You’re gonna be okay, California. We got you.”

“Where did you guys go?”

Boone asks from his spot on the couch. He’s leaned up against Lilly, feet on Dani’s lap as Dexter putters around the kitchenette in your two bedroom suite Jake had paid for.

“The beach.” Javi says, setting the keys on the entryway table.

“Where’s Ty and Kate?” You ask.

It goes eerily quiet. “Um, they had to run an errand.” Boone says after a long minute.

“I’m too tired to even unpack that.” You say, running a hand down your face. “I’m going to go shower.”

You slip inside to the bedroom you and Kate had been sharing with Dani and Lilly, walking into the bathroom. After shedding your clothes, you step into the hot water. It soothing against your skin as you bite back a yawn.

You’d told Javi to pick a beach, any beach, and the two of you had found a picnic table over looking the shore as you looked out at the moonlit waves.

It had been a quiet, grounding peace that had settled over you as you had reviewed the events of the night. Javi’s quiet voice mixed with the crashing of the waves, soothing you as he talked about Miami, and the Tornado Tamers, and the military, and a hundred different things.

Now though, in the lull of noise, save for the quiet murmurs of your friends through the wall, guilt prickles at you underneath your skin, heavy and all consuming.

It’s second nature, autopilot, climbing out of the shower and tugging on Kate’s sweatshirt, blindly pulling out a pair of sleep shorts from one of your bags. The bed that had once looked so appealing no longer looks comfortable as you have to work considerably to swallow around the rapidly growing lump in your throat.

You open the door right as Kate and Tyler return to the hotel room. Tyler gives you a grin as he waves a bag in the air. “Look where we trekked to. Surprise.”

Normally, you would’ve grinned and laughed and said I’d pay good money to see the Midwesterners in an In-N-Out but now all you can do is shrink into Kate’s sweatshirt as you get the overwhelming feeling that you don’t deserve this.

You don’t deserve Kate, you don’t deserve this team. Not this job you loved so much, not this life you’d carved out for yourself.

Kate’s face falls as she closes the distance between the two of you. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so tired of feeling guilty.” You gasp out, a sob you hadn’t expected coming out. It leaves you scrambling for breath, coming in ragged pants. “I’m tired of feeling guilty for being happy, for having this job, for tricking all of you into thinking that I’m- that I’m worth something. I’m so tired of- of feeling guilty for leaving him and- and I’m tired of feeling guilty for living.”

Kate’s hug is tight, almost as if she lets go, you’ll slip right through her fingers. “Sweetheart.” She whispers into your shoulder as you hesitate to wrap your arms around her.

“I don’t feel like I deserve it. I don’t feel like I deserve any of it. I didn’t feel like I deserved it then and I don’t feel like I deserve it now.”

Kate lets you go, a soft look coming over her face as her hands find your face. You feel like you look worse than you ever have, tears sliding down your face, choking on your own words and sobs and snot.

“Baby…” She says, so soft and tender, in that way that’s all Kate and usually makes you blush, makes you feel more seen then you ever have in your entire life. “You’ve had one hell of a go at life, I’ll admit you got a rough set of cards. But you- you went through something traumatic and you made the only decisions you could at the time. Those people- they’re angry at you because they feel bad for their friend cause he got hurt. And maybe we’re all a villain in someone else’s life but you shouldn’t feel guilty for doing what you need to do for you.” She takes a deep breath. “You didn’t deserve to die for him any more than I deserved to die for my friends. And for the first time, I really mean that. We don’t deserve to suffer or feel pain for the rest of our lives because of it, you know? It’s okay for us to continue to live and laugh and love — our mistakes, they don’t define us. We don’t have to live there.” Kate’s eyes are pleading, begging you to hear her and understand her; to believe her.

You nod as she swipes a thumb to wipe away a tear.

“You would never blame me for what my happened to my friends. You’d never say I should suffer in pain or in a life of exile because of it. You’d tell me for what it is — that it was a freak accident and it was out of your control. You can’t spend the rest of your life in those haunted what ifs and I know you’d never want that for me either.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is gravely, raw, but you can’t even focus on it as Boone’s lanky arms wrap around your frame. “Yeah, I hear you.”

“Sides, even if it were your fault-“

“Boone!” Lilly chides, even as she wraps her own arms around you.

“I ain’t saying it is! You people, you always assume the worst outta me-“

“Get to the point!” Javi’s exhausted voice comes from the kitchen. You snort, leaning your head into Boone’s shoulder.

“Get on with it, Booney.” You whisper.

“‘M just saying, even if it were your fault, it don’t change that your part of our family now. Always gonna be, no matter where them wind or tornados take us. Or what some stupid Navy guy says about you for that matter.”

Boone squeezes you before he steps back. Lilly lets you go, albeit hesitantly and you wipe your nose on the sleeve of Kate’s sweatshirt. Javi’s hand finds your back, wrapping you into a tight hug as you turn.

“You gotta start letting yourself believe you’re worthy of good things.” He mumbles into your sweatshirt. “Trust me, I- I get it okay. It was just as rough for me when I left StormPar, but Boone’s right. We’re a family.”

You nod into Javi’s shoulder, squeezing the man before letting him go. You wipe your eyes, taking a breath. “Okay, okay, I think I’m good. Just been a hell of a night.”

Javi nods and the room breaks into quiet chatter as the bags of food get passed around, burgers getting split up among the group.

Tyler grabs your arm as you pad over to sit on the couch next to Kate. His hug is tight, the smell of cedar and campfire lingering on his flannel a far cry from the smell of jet fuel and whiskey that followed his brother.

“You saved my life T.” You say quietly, even though no one would be able to hear you through the conversation at the couch. “The Wranglers saved my life. I hope you know that.”

He squeezes you. “Nah, kid. We just loved you enough for you to see why you should stay. The saving part was all you.”

“I need to go run an errand.” The table looks up at you, pausing around mid-conversation, breakfast plates forgotten. “So you guys can head out on the road ahead of us.”

“What’re you up to?” Boone asks.

You shake your head. “There’s just something I gotta do before we head out.”

“Some unfinished business?” Javi asks.

“Something like that.”

The weather is unusually dreary, rain drizzling down on and off as you make the drive over the Coronado bridge. You park in front of the boys house, turning the key in the ignition as you turn to face Tyler and Javi in the backseat.

“I’m not sure how long this is gonna take, but I’ll be back.”

“Man, what am I supposed to do to entertain myself?” Javi moans and Kate turns, giving him a sharp glare.

Late last night, after everyone had fallen asleep, you’d admitted to Kate that you didn’t think you could leave things with him like that, that you couldn’t live with yourself if you never gave him the closure he so desperately needed.

Kate had told you, voice muffled, that she understood. That she’d stand by you in whatever conversation you wanted to have with him.

“Go take a walk for all I care. It’s a nice neighborhood.” You say, before wrenching the car door opening, cutting off Javi’s bemoaned But it’s raining! as you slam it harder behind you than you normally ever would’ve allowed it to.

You wince, already hearing Tyler scold you in your head as you stride up the expansive driveway, saying a silent thank you that Javy’s beat-up truck is sitting in the driveway.

You force yourself to take a deep breath as you knock on the door. The blue paint is peeling more than ever you note, before it swings open, revealing Mickey. He’s donned in basketball shorts and a muscle tee and must’ve just come back from a run, based on the sweat and rain accumulated on him.

He almost doesn’t seem surprised to see you.

“Hey.” He says, leaning against the door.

“Hey.” You respond. “Is Javy here?”

He nods, opening the door enough to let you inside and the oak shuts firmly behind you as you follow him through the familiar foyer to the couches in the living room.

“You guys are not much for redecorating.”

Mickey groans. “Kid, the fact that we’ve gotten anything on the walls as long as we lived in this place is a miracle in and of itself, you know that.”

Despite the situation, you snort, recalling when the boys had enlisted you to build Mickey’s desk one time two years into them living here. “Oh, I remember.”

“Coyote!” Mickey shouts up the stairs as you arrive next to the couch, nudging Jake. He gives you a soft smile, pushing himself up to give you a quick hug.

“I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to ruin it.”

Jake shakes his head. ��‘S my fault. You and I both know there was probably no other outcome than that.”

The fabric of his Texas sweatshirt is soft as he squeezes you, letting you go as you hear footsteps on the stairs.

You sigh, turning catching sight of your ex turning the corner. His eyes widen slightly at the sight of you and he tugs on the edges of his Saints sweatshirt.

He’s nervous, you realize. The taste of that truth is bitter and acrid on your tongue.

“We need to talk.” You say with more stern bravado then you feel and you force yourself to soften as Mickey lets out a low whistle. “And you, uh, said you had some of my stuff.”

“We have all of your stuff.” Mickey comments into his protein shake. “It’s all in Bob’s old room.” He points with a finger over his shoulder, but you still know the way.

You head in the direction to Bob’s room, tugging on the sleeve of Javy’s hoodie as you do.

He follows you, shutting the bedroom door behind him as you scan the room. “When did Bob move out?” You ask as you pull a box out, sifting through the books.

“Like two or three months after you left. Think he had plans to move out earlier but uh-“ Javi pauses and your eyes flicker up to study him. “I think they were concerned I’d do something stupid to myself if it was too much change at once.”

You sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you squat and brace yourself against the box. “Javy.” You breathe out.

“I’m really sorry about how last night went.” He says as he leans up against one of the taller stacks of boxes. “My Mom’s pretty pissed at me for how I handled myself. I’m mad at myself too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Drinking or not, you didn’t deserve it. I was just- confused and frustrated and so hopeful it made me scared. I guess I never prepared myself for what it would be like to see you again, even though clearly-“ He says, gesturing to the room. “I always let myself keep that door open.”

“Why did you keep this shit anyways?” You ask. “You coulda let my Mom toss all this shit out.”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t have. I- I always thought maybe you’d come home. That when you did come home, you’d roll your eyes about your Mom and want your stuff back. Fools hope I guess.”

You let yourself fall to the floor in a cross-crossed position, scrubbing a hand down your face. “Javy, I am so sorry about how I left. You deserved a lot better than that from me, after everything you did for me. But I was scared and I ran and you got caught in that.”

“Every day since then, I’ve wondered what it was about me that wasn’t enough to make you stay. Did I not love you right? Did I do something to hurt you? Did I not stop when I should’ve?” He takes a sharp breath at the thought that he might’ve pushed you too far while being intimate as being your reason for running. “Every night for two years, I’ve laid in bed at night, going over every single detail. But last night, after hearing that it was Jake’s fault, I’ve gone over every what if. What if he had listened to you? What if he hadn’t taken you? What if I hadn’t gotten drunk that night before or- or had convinced you to stay? What if you had stayed home from the trip; what if Sophia had never asked you to be a bridesmaid? What if-“

“Javy, stop.” You stay sternly, pushing yourself up off the floor. “You can’t live in those what ifs. They’ll drive you fucking crazy. You can’t keep living in the past. And it ain’t Jake’s fault, much as we would all, himself probably included, like to lay the blame on him. We can’t go back and change it and we can’t live in that history neither. What happened, happened.”

He lets out a breath. “You’re handling this better than me.”

“I’ve had two years to process it. I’ve had two years in a new town with a new job and a new partner and new friends to heal from all of it. You haven’t even had two days to grapple with the truth.” You say as you pop the lid on the box. Your eyes scan the room as you let him process the information, trying to catalogue all that he has, what you need and what you don’t.

“My Niall Horan shirt!” You exclaim, wrestling a box out of the corner of the room. “I’d been wondering what happened to this!” You pop the lid off, subsequently discovering your American Girl doll. “And Julie! I remember that year I went as her for Halloween and brought her over here. She was the highlight of the party for all the drunken idiots.”

“That was the year of the dolls.” He comments from behind you.

“Yeah, yeah, cause you guys all went as Ken dolls, except for Mickey, who went as Carlos from Big Time Rush, and I finally had to explain to you who they were after I made that joke, that they were the greatest boy band of our generation, on our second date.”

“It’s crazy to think about now, how the yahoos could all see how I felt about you and I was still insisting we were just friends.”

“Oh, enough time has passed. We can admit now that we weren’t just friends. We made out too much, in public no less, for that to be anywhere near platonic.”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute and you turn, worried you’ve gone too far. His eyes are glassy, a fond smile on his face.

“I really loved you, you know that?”

“Javy…”

He gives a half-shrug, looking down. “You can say what you want about being unhappy, about needing to leave, but I hope you know that I really loved you. I really cared about you and I really thought some day you’d come home to me. You were my best friend and I wanted to grow old with you. It just- it just feels like it didn’t mean anything to you.”

A lump grows in your throat as he wipes a few tears away from his cheeks. You look down, unsure if you should admit the truth.

“Javy, I found the ring.”

“W-what?”

“The night we got back from Texas, I accidentally found it. But it- it freaked me out. I was already walking such a fine line those days, so afraid and so mixed up from what happened, already so unhappy and I knew it was over then and there. Because I found it and pictured you getting down on one knee and tried to think of what I’d say and when I knew I’d say no, I knew I needed to end it.”

He lets out a choked sob as you work your throat around the ever-growing lump, knowing you have to finish this conversation, as much as it pains you.

“Javy, of course it meant something to me.” You say, unclenching your hand from where it’s fisted in the dark blue material of the t-shirt. You set the objects down back in the box, taking a few steps towards him. “Javy, I did love you. Really. You were my first real boyfriend, my first serious boyfriend, my first. I thought the world of you and you were my best friend too. Okay, my favorite times were when we would stay up all night laughing or- or all those times we just existed together. But both things can be true — you can have hurt me, I can have been unhappy, and we both can still have loved each other the best we could’ve at the time.” You say, taking another step towards him. “But that’s what I keep trying to tell you. That girl that I was with you, that person you fell in love with, she doesn’t exist anymore. I’m not that version of me anymore.” Javy only looks at you as he cries as you cling to the hope that this time he’ll finally listen.

“Can I have a hug?” He croaks. You nod, reaching out for him and he’s quick to tug you into his embrace, as if you might change your mind waiting a hair of a second longer.

His hug is tight, and you can feel the way his tears wet your pale yellow Oklahoma crewneck, the same way you know you’re soaking his Saints hoodie.

It’s weird, because hugging him doesn’t feel like coming home like it used to.

It’s weird, because it feels like the door on this part of your life is finally shutting behind you.

You think you’re at peace with it.

“You sure you won’t come back?” His muffled voice sounds.

“You know I can’t.” He whimpers as you shake your head. “I’d be coming back to a place that isn’t my home anymore, a life that isn’t mine. Javy, you have to let me go. If not for me, then for yourself.”

“I don’t know how.” He pleads into your shoulder.

“It takes time.” You whisper. “But one day it won’t hurt so much. I promise.”

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stand there, but finally he lets you go, stepping back as his back hits the wall, sliding down. You take that as a sign that you can get back to sorting.

“Hey, you’ve asked me a lot of questions about what’s changed since you been gone. Can I ask you questions about what you’ve been up to?” He asks, voice watery and raw.

“Seems only fair.” You say, squatting down to rifle through a box full of high school memorabilia.

“Are you dating Kate?”

You swallow, glancing at him as you pull out your yearbooks. “Yeah, I am.”

“I figured.”

“How’d you figure it out?”

“She looks at you like how I used to.” He says with a shrug as he stretches his legs out in front of him. Upon seeing your dubious look, he lets out a wet laugh. “She just- she always found a reason to be next to you last night. She always brought you into conversation, looked for you when you weren’t with her, looked for you even when you were with her. It was obvious she cared a great deal about you and I sort of guessed she was who you didn’t want to bring into this.”

You shake your head. “This isn’t her fight. She’s got my back, I know that, but this didn’t need to involve her if I could help it. It was between me and you.”

“She seems cool.” He finally comments after a minute.

“Freaky genius and all the wit to match.”

“Like you.” Your cheeks warm at the compliment as you untangle the honor cords. “She make you happy?”

“Honestly?” You say and he nods. “I see my whole life with her in a way I’ve never seen it before. She’s my best friend and my partner. I love her to death and there’s nowhere in this world I wouldn’t follow her.”

“You guys have any pets?”

“Two dogs and a cat.”

“Jesus, is this farm you live on really a zoo?”

“I think her Mom feels that way sometimes.” You say with a chuckle. “No, the team has Buttons, but he’s really Boone’s if you want to get into it. Ty’s taken on a dog I named Enid by sheer force of will from this dog. And Kate and I adopted a kitten named Peaches about this time two years ago. Ty and I are getting horses in October too.”

“So… you and Kate living together?”

You shake your head. “No. Not yet, anyways. Technically, I got a small two bedroom apartment in Tulsa I rent with the other Javi but he’s almost always somewhere in Arkansas with Boone in the off-season and I spend all my time with Kate on her farm when we aren’t out on the road.”

“They seem like really good people.”

“They’re some of the best. Hey, are you still in touch with Elle?”

Javy’s eyes widen. “Your friend from grad school? Some, why?”

“You should ask her on a date.”

“No- No, I couldn’t.”

You fix him with a look. “Why not? I bet that girl is still enamored with you.”

“She was your best friend, that would be wrong.”

You shrug, setting aside a snow globe. “We ain’t together anymore and Elle and I ain’t friends anymore. And trust me, if you and I hadn’t been what we were when Elle came into my life, Elle would’ve a hundred percent gone after you. And I wouldn’t be mad you know. You deserve to move on.”

“Not with one of your friends.”

You click your tongue. “I’m just saying…”

Kate’s drumming her fingertips on the edges of the door as the minutes tick by, the gnawing in her stomach resurfacing as the time drags on. Javi huffs for the millionth time, blowing a stray curl away from his face as a blue Bronco passes them, pulling up to park in the driveway.

Javi leans forward, peering over the center console to study the two men climbing out of the Bronco through the windshield. “Hey Ty, isn’t that your brother’s fiancé?”

Tyler looks up from his phone, glancing out his window. When he finally responds, his voice is impossibly tight, making her wince. “Kate, where exactly are we right now?”

Upon her non-answer, Tyler pulls himself from the car, a colorful swear leaving his mouth as Javi follows right behind him. She scrambles out of her door, tugging on the two men’s arms. “Stop it.” She pleads, causing them both to turn. “Look, I don’t like it either but I gotta respect the fact that she wants closure. I’d do anything to have that, you know that.”

Tyler yanks his arm back, striding across the lawn towards the two men as they let themselves in the house. Bradley’s eyes are wide as he catches sight of Tyler, shouting into the house.

She groans when Tyler shoulders past Bradley and Pete, Javi still hot on his heels. “I am so sorry about them.” She apologizes to the two men as they shut the front door.

“Tyler.” Jake growls, yanking on his brother’s arm. “I will sit on your head like I did when we were kids.”

“I am not gonna let you do this to her again. For two years, my team has been putting that girl back together, putting together pieces of her you broke.” Tyler snaps, poking his finger into Jake’s chest.

“Yeah? And he’s waited two years for this conversation, to finally get closure. They need this. And if you interrupt it, so help me God.” Jake says as he pushes his brother towards the couch. Jake takes the hint, sitting as Javi hesitantly follows suit. After a few moments of awkward silence, Kate clears her throat, catching Tyler’s eye. She jerks her head to his brother and he shakes his head. She does it again, causing Pete to glance up at her.

“Are you okay, kid?”

“Tyler.” She crosses her arms. “You know she doesn’t want you to leave it like this.”

Jake’s eyes flicker up at her, giving her an eery sense of deja vu. It had been a strange adjustment, seeing a carbon copy of a person they all knew and loved, but yet acted so different. Whereas Tyler was rough around the edges, thick cowboy country accent and swear words that would make milk curdle and friends with everyone, ever the life of the party, Jake had kept a lot to himself the night before. He held himself together, never in anyway that would indicate cracks in his well-maintained image. She saw him let loose a few times with his friends, eager to hear about your and Tyler’s lives, and always polite to the Wranglers but there was a certain detachment from it all that Tyler lacked.

“Tyler, I am sorry.” Tyler grunts, crossing his arms. Jake sighs before trying again. “For all of it. Genuinely. I know you’re thinking I’m real selfish right about now and I’m thinking it too. I’m sure she didn’t let up to the worst of it and I’m really sorry about all of it. But I didn’t call you for some sick or twisted reason of hurting her. I called you here because you’re my brother and I want you here. I want you to see this life that I’ve built for myself, cause I’m finally happy, and I- I want to share it with you.”

“Oh, you mean the life you were too busy building to come to our grandparents funeral? Some life.” Tyler scoffs.

Jake’s shoulders fall. “Ty, I’m sorry.” He whispers. “You’re my brother, you were my best friend, and there hasn’t been a day that goes by that I don’t regret stepping up when it mattered. No stupid trophy or promotion was ever worth losing you.”

Tyler swallows, letting out a deep breath but doesn’t say anything further and Jake clearly accepts that that’s all he’s going to get out of him. He turns to Kate. “Is she happy? With you?”

“Yes.” Javi blurts out. “So happy.”

She peers down at her friend, who has a rapidly growing sheepish grin on his scarlet face. “The way you say that makes it sound like we aren’t happy.”

“Just have to make the point.”

She gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” She turns back to Jake and Bradley. “Yeah, yeah she really is happy.”

“Does this mean I can go back to watching the Wranglers streams now or am I gonna get yelled at again? Cause now that you think about it, we all kinda gaslit Coyote.” Fanboy calls from across the kitchen. Tyler turns, giving the boy a curious look.

“What?”

“Mickey used to watch your guys streams until I started appearing in them.” You comment, appearing next to Kate. She jumps a little, taking you in. Your face has the remnants of tears, voice raw, but there’s a lack of weight in your body she’s been seeing you carry ever since she’s known you. You wrap your arms around one of Kate’s leaning your head on your shoulder after setting a plastic tub on the ground. “They all convinced him,” You say, jerking your head towards your ex. “That he was losing his mind. Also, how come my errands never get to just be my errands? What part of stay in the car until I got back did we not understand?”

“I tried to stop them, really I did.” Kate protests. You let out a quiet laugh, hiding your face in the back of her shirt.

“Have T and Jake made up?” You say quietly. She shakes her head and you sigh.

“Tyler-“

“No, and we’re leaving.” Tyler says, cutting you off as he pushes himself off the couch. “With the way Boone drives they’re probably halfway to Vegas by now.”

“That’s physically not possible.” Kate mutters and you snort.

“Tyler, I don’t want you to leave things like this.”

“That’s not your choice.” Tyler says gruffly, stalking to the front door. Both you and Kate wince as he slams it.

“I don’t know where he thinks he’s going, I still have the keys.” You say, finally letting go of Kate. “It’s my car anyways.” You mutter under your breath before sighing. “Anyways, we should really be on the road because Boone’s probably stopped at the alien tourist stop in Bakersfield by now.”

“If Tyler complains about traffic again, can we take a group vote to leave him on the side of the road?” Javi asks as he cranes his head up at you.

“We’re not leaving Tyler on the side of the road.” Kate says with a tired sigh.

“Even if he walks to Vegas?” Javi protests earning a tired laugh from you.

“Okay Kate, will you drive?” She nods as you hand her the keys, Javi standing up from the couch. “Javi, take that.” You say, pointing to the box. “I’m going to be out in just a minute.”

You wait for the door to shut behind them before turning to Jake. “Okay Jake, you can have your real hug now.” He grins as you pull him into a hug. “Don’t worry about him. It’ll take time.”

“I’m sure with a couple hours trapped in a car with you, he’ll cave and call.” Jake says softly, forced humor in the words.

(It would take three weeks, an incessantly annoying three weeks on your part, before Ty got so frustrated with you he’d called Jake while sitting on top of his truck on the ranch in Arkansas. You’re still not sure what they talked about, what was said, but by the end of the week, Tyler walked into the house with a wedding invitation on fancy card stock Tyler teased Jake endlessly for.)

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, though.” You say, squeezing him. “Let bygones by bygones. I have.”

He hums. “Take care of yourself.”

Bradley gives you a brief hug. “I’m glad you’re happy and safe kid. That’s all I would’ve ever wanted for you.”

“Hope you weren’t too hard on Jake.”

“No more than the normal amount.”

“The normal amount is zero.”

Bradley laughs. “You’re being more fair to him than he deserves, hope you know that.”

“Something something time space therapy.”

You reach your arms out for Pete and he stands up, giving you a grin, as Bradley laughs harder. “Don’t do anything out there that I would do.”

You laugh. “No promises.” You pad over to Mickey, giving him a tight hug. “If you ever decide you get tired of the pilot life and want to become a storm chaser, you let me know.” Mickey laughs.

“You’ll have to unblock me first.” You cringe at the reminder and pat his back.

“Done. You take care of yourself.” He gives you a two finger salute, letting you step back.

You turn back to Javy, who’s mostly kept to himself through the whole conversation. “Come here you.” He looks surprised you’re offering him another hug, but he returns it nonetheless. “You be safe out there, you hear me.”

“Yes ma’am.” He whispers. “Don’t get sucked up into a tornado.”

“I’ll try my hardest. And uh, really do think about my Elle suggestion.”

You both linger for a minute longer before eventually he pulls away. “You sure that’s all you want to take?”

You shrug. “Yeah, I got what I need out there. Sell the rest of the stuff, make a quick buck off of me. It’s the least I can do.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Sounds like a deal. Uh, can I walk you to the door?” You nod and he trails behind you quietly. “So this is uh, really goodbye.”

“Seems like it.”

“I’m uh, really happy you found what you’re looking for. I can only hope I’ll find it someday.”

“You will.” You say quietly. “I’m really sorry it didn’t work out between us.”

“It’s for the better it seems.”

You nod. “Well-“ You clear your throat. “Goodbye Javy.”

The door shut behinds you with a soft thud. You sigh, padding across the wet grass as you slip in the seat next to Kate. As she pulls away from the curb, Javi asks how you’re feeling.

“It’s stupid.” You mumble. “But I keep thinking of this Taylor Swift lyric.”

“Not this again.” Tyler mutters and through the rear view mirror you can see Javi flick his ear.

“What is it?” Kate asks softly.

“It’s just this one line — what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye. It’s just odd, I think. I did really love him at one point and I did really think maybe I’d spend the rest of my life with him, that those would be my best days. And it all just kind of ends here.” You sigh, settling back into your seat. “But- I don’t know. I’m not mad about how it all happened, I guess. It lead me here.”

Tyler lifts his chin, giving you a soft yet sincere smile through the rearview mirror. “And we’re happy to have you here.”

“So,” Kate starts from the balcony of your Vegas hotel room. Your friends are fast asleep inside, all piled somewhere on the beds pushed together. You’re pretty sure when you left, Boone had pushed himself in between Tyler and Javi and was snoring. “I’ve been sort of- I kind of have something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

You glance at your girlfriend. “Yeah?”

She nods. “Last night, when Javi and Boone left cause of the bad feeling they got- they weren’t the only ones who felt that. It kinda made me sick, hearing them talk about you like that, and thinking about the fact that you might actually do it. That you might remember that you liked your life there better and leave Oklahoma.” She takes a sharp breath. “Leave me.”

“Kate-“

“I know I’m not really the best at- at always showing you how much you mean to me, that sometimes I get caught up in chasing the storm, in actually making it all mean something, that I forgot about how great of a thing I have. I’m trying really hard not to take it for granted, because I did once and I can’t- I can’t go through that again. To lose you would be one of the greatest losses of my life.”

“Kate, I love you. You aren’t gonna lose me, I’m not going anywhere. I only want to be with you, there isn’t any other life for me except for the one right next to you.”

She reached up, brushing away an eyelash that had fallen onto your cheek. “I think I’m sort of starting to understand that now.” She reaches out for your hand. “Listen, I‘ve sort of- sort of been keeping my eye on some places going up for sale in Sapulpa. I know my Mom doesn’t mind having us around but I think maybe it’s time we give her back her peace and quiet.”

“Kate…”

She reaches a hand up, tucking a hair behind your ear. “We can keep the barn as home base but I found this really cute place for not too bad of a price while we were driving out here. I sort of scheduled a tour with the realtor for the day after next.” She’s wearing a soft, cautious smile.

“Kate,” Your breath hitches. “Kate Carter, are you asking me to move in with you? Are you asking me to buy a house with you?”

She gives a sort of nonchalant shrug. “If that’s what you want.”

“I- Yes, of course that’s what I want!” You exclaim, belatedly realizing you may wake your friends. Well, not Boone at least, who sleeps like the dead. Your voice drops considerably. “Yes, yes I would love that.”

Kate gives you a grin, reaching out to tug on the elastic band of your pajama pants to bring you closer to her. You laugh, colliding into her. Your hands brace yourself on her shoulders as Kate smiles wider than you think you’ve ever seen her.

“I love you so much.” She whispers. “How lucky am I.”

“I hope it’s like this forever.” You say softly. “I know, there’s no guarantee and eventually, they’ll find other things. But I hope it’s always this easy, you know? Not just with us but with them too you know? They might not be the Wranglers forever but I hope they’re our family forever.” You say, turning your head to look at your friends through the glass.

You feel the outline of Kate’s smile on your cheek. “They will be. I promise. No matter where we all go, they’ll still be here. Can’t take the home out of Oklahoma, right?”

#twisters #twisters fic #kate carter #kate carter fic #kate carter x reader #kate carter x female reader #can't take the home out of oklahoma

86 notes · View notes

destiny-in-the-universe · 4 months

Text

and we are back on the hyperfixation train-

seriously i cannot stop with the never-ending brainrot when it comes to randy cunningham so, if anyone is genuinely interested in seeing more rambles about this show because honestly the gears are turning lol, both due to my incoming crossover and just- things in general?

it’s late, the ideas aren’t flowing as well as i’d like right now, so in the meantime have a series of random headcanons

RC9GN Headcanons

~ Since magic is a thing in the universe, I’ve always envisioned that creatures from Japanese folklore/legends/etc coexist with humans- however they mostly appear in other plane of existence and don’t interact with mortals at all- i know this doesn’t make sense yet but it will,, when it’s not past midnight lol

~ I’m firmly convinced Plop Plop and Howard could be part of the same bloodline (Howard is 100% a descendant of Plop Plop, this is just canon lol i was there i was uhhh, howard’s shirt /lh)

~ this is practically canon but Plop Plop is?? practically immortal?? Could the same apply to the First Ninja? (because he’s now just sort of in the nomicon- like is he technically immortal bc his soul’s trapped in it so to speak)

~ ADHD Randy. Like how could he be anything but? I mean look at him

~ Julian is 100% some breed of ND, as is Howard. I make the rules this is canon now

~ Can I please just have the idea that Randy continues the mantle of being the Ninja post-grad? Like, don’t mind wipe him i’m begging- but also, consider he does forget and then something happens where it triggers his memories back- could make an au out of this but not right now,

~ There’s no way half the characters are straight lmao

~ I just watched the reveal episode and I like to think Viceroy sabotaging the robot because, well, Randy’s 14-

~ absentee parents for Randy- like. how does he get away with half the things he does? where even are his parents

~ Howard clearly has abandonment issues. I seriously need this being a thing more often-

~ caretaker Howard- to what level would the suit protect Randy?? I genuinely think Howard patches Randy up whenever he gets injured bc of literal ROBOTS

~ Randy 100% has self esteem issues?? (living in shooblivion was a perfect example of this-)

~ Heidi also has ADHD

~ Adoptive Parent First Ninja. I will not accept anything less-

~ Randy is a summer child. Howard was born in winter-

~ Game Developer Howard? I need this

~ Randy is a bit of an artist. He can already play instruments- so I say let him know how to dance, maybe not an expert but he knows his moves; also, he can sing- he does vocals in his and Howard’s band

~ not really an hc but if i don’t get more lore for the tengu i might actually go insane lol (what is the connection between the ninja and the demon bird-)

~ so. Randy, this kid- istg if this wasn’t an episodic, lighthearted kids show, he would be so traumatized. ptsd for Randy

~ Asian Randy- I’m not sure which one just yet

~ another Randy hc- I need Randy being a descendant of the Norisu 9-

~ Theresa your crush on Randy is so freaking obvious-

~ SIR, hello?? Not exactly a headcanon but I swear to everything- Randy and Debbie are a disaster waiting to happen. The identity reveal has me screaming, and honestly I wanted more; aka I need a more angsty version of the same episode istg

~ am I the only seeing Mort pseudo-adopting Randy??

~ there will be more to come but not right now- this pup is taking a slumber,, they are eepy

#randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #rc9gn #headcanons #rc9gn headcanons #randy cunningham #howard weinerman #first ninja #debbie kang #rc9gn first ninja #rc9gn randy #rc9gn howard #rc9gn heidi #heidi weinerman #viceroy #rc9gn viceroy

57 notes · View notes

raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

Pumpkin spice

Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Walter Marshall x librarian!reader

Summary: You finally manage to get a date with the handsome barista from your favorite coffeeshop.

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), a cheesy (romantic) date, a short appearance of Mike The Idiot TM, awkwardness, a lot of coffee and abuse of a cable knit... I think that's it?

A/N: Another promise made to @deandoesthingstome. I swear this woman is responsible for half the stuff on my masterlist at this point. Credit for the other half goes to @geralts-yenn of course. This time, it was - of course - because I made the mistake of adding one of the - according to her - more attractive Henry-shaped men to the Coffee+Cats universe. Naturally, grumpy coffeeshop manager Walter needed a hug and some good head, and Charlie volunteered, so here we are.

What we're left with is a crazy crossover between the Coffee+Cats AU and the 179th Crescent Street AU, because this is - indeed, for the people who are familiar with Crescent Street - the librarian!reader from After Hours.

@ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

The brooding man behind the counter has been getting on your nerves for weeks. His only crime is ‘getting your order right’, which shouldn’t even be all that surprising, because that’s his job – if it weren’t for the fact that he seems to know exactly what it’s going to be before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak.

“What can I do for you today?” He could look less godlike, maybe? Don’t say that. Or he could smell worse? Or that. Or he could not smile in a way that seemed to make the earth stop spinning. Very dramatic, also don’t say that.

“Ehh…” Brilliant. Someone should give you an award for that monologue. Shake it off. “Since when do I have to order for myself?”

Alright, you’ve made him chuckle – God, that’s a delicious sound – and look away. Now what? “I’m sorry,” he says, still avoiding your eyes, “I can’t read you today. But you seem annoyed enough with me to make me want to make whatever you’re going to order lukewarm in case I get it thrown in my face later.”

“That’s too bad,” you say, “I was really hoping to get a recommendation.” Because you only know what you want to order when you’re here for coffee. And you’re not here for coffee. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, why are you getting coffee today?” Son of a bitch! It’s a good thing the shop is slow right now, so you’re not holding anyone up with your… is it flirting? God, let it be flirting! No, definitely not flirting. Or maybe…?

“Maybe it’s not the coffee so much as the company,” you say shyly. Yeah, flirting. Qualitatively very poor flirting, but still. It stays quiet on the other side of the counter for a beat too long, which sends your anxiety through the roof.

“So, how about she has whatever you’re having when you go on your break in about... A minute and a half?” The voice belongs to Mike, the almost annoyingly upbeat barista you’ve seen around countless times. He’s responsible for at least half the college crowd that flocks to this place, because he’s a cutie. A little young, maybe, but he has a nice ass.

“I was going to go with a regular old espresso.” He smiles apologetically.

“You look like you could do with a double.” God, that’s a horrible line.

It’s Mike who ends up laughing. “He could do with way more than a double,” he snickers, shooing Walter away from the cash register. “Get out of here, or I’m getting you both pumpkin spice lattes.”

Walter shudders at the thought. He never struck you as the kind of guy who likes his coffee sweet, and you’re happy you’re right. At least… You think you’re right until you see the little twinkle in Mike’s eyes. Granted, that happens a lot, but never for nothing, and the little wink he throws your way suggests he knows his boss has a secret pumpkin spiced sweet tooth he doesn’t want the world to know about. So you pretend not to notice.

When you’re finally settled at a table, you talk for what feels like forever, your knees touching under the table. You’d expected him to move his leg out of the way when you first bumped into it accidentally, but he didn’t. Then, as your conversation went on, more and more of your legs got mixed up together.

“Walter?” For the love of God, why? “I hate to break up your date, but a whole sorority just walked in and I can’t do this by myself.”

“I’m on my break, Mike,” Walter grumbles in return, clearly not happy about the interruption. That’s a good sign, right?

“Your break, Mr. Manager, sir, ended forty-five minutes ago.” Mike would make a great wingman, if it weren’t for the fact that he seems a little keen to pat himself on the back for his efforts. “Give her your number and come do your job.” With a dramatic sigh, he walks back to where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m really sorry,” Walter says with an apologetic smile on his face. You shrug it off – it really doesn’t matter, he wasn’t even supposed to have spent the better part of the past hour with you – and slide your phone towards him.

A poetry reading in a – different – coffeeshop in town. That’s where he suggests you go. First, any man who is creative enough to come up with something other than ‘a drink’ or ‘dinner’ is worth a shot in your book, but when they’re of the dark, gloomy, burly variety; all the better. And no three-day-wait nonsense, either. He calls you right after his shift ends, and asks you to meet him in two hours.

It's barely a fifteen-minute walk from your apartment, which leaves you with plenty of time to complain quietly to yourself that an hour and forty-five minutes is not enough time to get dressed for a date, while getting dressed for your date. You manage with time to spare – five whole minutes – which you spend pensively checking out your outfit in every imaginable angle in the mirror on your bedroom door. You toy with the hem of the skirt you’re wearing, fondly remembering another time you put it on. You’re not one to kiss and tell, so only a few of your closest friends know the crudest of outlines to the story of your scandalous liaison in the university library – and the long night that followed. Not that you’re particularly happy that those same friends, to this day, still tease you about how you – a grown woman – let yourself get talked into a night in student housing with a guy just about so much younger than you that you really didn’t want to even begin doing the math, but you wouldn’t trade the memories for anything in the whole world.

One look at your watch tells you it was time to go, and with trembling hand you open the door of your apartment. It had been sheer, dumb luck that even got you this place in the first place. It's tiny – just the second floor of a beautiful old townhouse – and narrow, but it has a separate bedroom, which was all you could really wish for with your income, anyway. During this time of year, the street it was on looks like a picture; orange leaves bravely cling to the steadily baring branches of the trees, and litter the ground, making for the perfect autumn scene. The sight also never fails to make you more desperate than usual – even for you – for coffee.

You’ve always enjoyed the fall, including all its necessary trials and tribulations – slippery sidewalks that weren’t quite suited for folks with your level of coordination, the unannounced rain that mercilessly drenched you and your absolutely everything in the early morning so that the sleeves of your coat would be unbearably wet when you put it on later in the afternoon, the cold that had you shivering and covered in goosebumps more often than not, and your toes. Freezing. Always. On that front, living in an old, drafty apartment with less-than-efficient heating isn’t exactly your top choice. Oh well.

The coffeeshop is – as per your calculations – a little less than a fifteen-minute walk away from your place, and you dread being early. Getting there first. Waiting for him. Fortunately, when you round the corner, you see him standing outside. You happily note that he is standing there – again, outside – in nothing but a dark cable-knit sweater, jeans and sturdy shoes that are the most weather-appropriate part of his outfit as far as you’re concerned.

“Hello.” His blue eyes smile down on you, and you barely remember your own damn name. Was he always this tall? This big? This handsome? A nervous smile will have to serve as your answer, because you’re at a complete loss for words. He doesn’t seem to mind.

For a moment, you stand there, simply staring sheepishly into his eyes, until finally a drop of rain falls right on the tip of your nose, pulling you from your trance at once. “We should get inside,” you say softly.

Walter reaches an arm out. “After you,” he says with the same kind smile in his eyes. You pick a table in the corner, settling nicely on the comfortable couch, while Walter grabbed the two of you coffee.

“Pumpkin spice,” you chuckle when he returns with two identical steaming cups. He nods, a playful smile in his eyes, only. “Is Mike the only one who knows your secret?” Your nerves convince you that your shot at playful banter goes wide, until Walter sits down and chuckled.

“There’s, eh… There’s this woman,” he says softly. To your surprise, he doesn’t sit in the chair opposite you, but he joins you on the couch. As the café is filling up, another customer quickly confiscates the chair Walter isn’t using.

“Don’t worry, she won’t tell,” you say, your voice trembling as you briefly consider the possibility that he wasn’t referring to you.

When the reading ends, you linger until the shop closes – which isn’t too long after, but still, you find it comforting in the sense that you’re simply glad Walter doesn’t try to run as soon as he can. Outside, the rain has picked up, and if the autumn air was chilly before, now, it’s downright icy. Despite his lacking a jacket or coat, the cold doesn’t seem to bother Walter, and though the rain clearly does, he offers to walk you home – an offer, mind you, he’s not intent on allowing you to decline.

It would have been obvious to anyone just under half as nervous as you are, but neither of you seem to be in a hurry to get you home, despite the rain, both clearly dragging out the little time you both think is still left to this date. Until you reach your front door, that is, and you both look at each other.

“Do you want to come up for a drink?” Is that your voice? Your invitation? And is that him? Accepting your offer? Apparently it is, because he follows you in when you open the door. The stairs to your floor are almost too narrow for him, and he has to watch his head for that one ridge in the ceiling of the stairwell that you never look out for because you’re small enough to never have it bother you. “This is me,” you say nervously as you open the door and invite him into your place. He seems comically large in your tiny living room, and you barely manage to suppress a chuckle. “Coffee?”

“Please!” he says before he shivers visibly.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry,” you say as you realize – what you consider – your error. “I shouldn’t have… You must be wanting to get home and get out of your wet clothes, I…” A hand on your cheek and the heat that, despite being soaked through and through, radiates off his body cuts you off mid-apology.

“I wouldn’t mind getting out of these clothes,” he says slowly, his voice dark and husky in a way that makes your breath stick in the back of your throat for a moment, “but I don’t see a reason to wait until I get home to do that.” Without waiting for a response, he captures your lips in a scorching hot kiss that almost make you forget that both of you have wandered – slowly – through the pouring rain for nearly fifteen minutes.

Large hands gently tug your coat off your shoulders until a single move of your arms makes it drop to the floor, then they’re at your waist, pulling you closer. His lips are gentle, surprisingly soft, and his beard scratches against your cold skin. When you reach for his face, and your fingers connect with his skin, he inhales sharply.

“Are your hands made of ice?” he mumbles against your lips, his lips pulling away in a grin. He takes your hands away from his face, draping your arms around his neck instead, where you weave your fingers into his messy curls. They’re all but soaked from the rain, and part of you wants to offer him a towel, but another – much bigger – part of you swears it will die if not attached firmly to big, big man. Walter pulls you close, not expecting an answer to his question, and carefully slides his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you to let him in. You do, and you allow yourself to be swept away by the gentle yet thorough way in which his tongue explores your mouth, dances with yours.

With near-greedy impatience, you push him back, towards the door of your bedroom, longing so desperately to feel more of this man than you currently are. ‘Stumble’ is an apt descriptor for the way you cross the threshold into your room. Here, too, he seems almost too large for the space – which is so small that from where he’s standing, he couldn’t fall in any direction without hitting a wall. Your bed covers the whole wall beneath the window, easily taking up half the space, with your wardrobe taking up most of what’s left. You might have fit another bookcase in there, if it weren’t for the fact that you prefer your bathroom door actually closes.

Without thinking, you reach for the hem of his sweater, your fingers purposely lingering on the skin beneath, which – despite being damp from the rain – still radiates heat. Under your touch, his grip on your waist tightens, and his abs twitch. There’s more muscle to him than you’d thought, and you find another pleasant surprise when you rake your fingers over his stomach. So pleasant, in fact, that you can’t suppress a soft chuckle. Nothing says ‘perfect fall hookup’ like a deliciously hairy man. Now, if only that damned – and dampened – sweater would come off, that would be so amazing…

Frustrated groans escape the both of you when the garment puts on more of a fight than any sweater has the right to, and as soon as it’s on the floor, Walter kicks it out of the room for good measure. Your hands eagerly travel the now-exposed skin of his chest and back, making him shiver and moan loudly as you drag a single fingernail softly down his spine. He captures your lips again, stringing you along into the depths of another scorching kiss, fingers working diligently to untuck your sweater from your skirt. A soft growl slips from his throat as he finishes his mission, only to encounter the fabric of the blouse you’re wearing underneath the sweater – you really do get cold easily. This time, he is far less friendly in his approach, pulling almost recklessly at the fabric that finds itself so rudely between your body and his greedy touch.

Your sweater meets a fate similar to his, and your hands make quick work of just enough buttons of your blouse that you can pull the thing over your head while his hands continue their exploration slightly further down, following the soft curve of your ass and pulling you closer to him as he goes. His mouth barely leaves yours – he alternates between using just the right amount of tongue, and nipping at or sucking on your bottom lip. Paired with his obviously horny impatience, it’s nothing short of divine.

You can’t wrap your head around how warm his hands feel on your skin, but the contrast with the chilly air of the room is both staggering and arousing. Not that Walter had thus far been unsuccessful in arousing you – quite the opposite, in fact. His lips move to your neck while his hands roam your back and sides, hesitant to grab more of you. What does he think you’re going to do? Object?

Your hands are already undoing his belt, eager to take the final pieces of wet fabric off him so you can finally seek the solace of your warm bed, and he lets you, kicking off his shoes while you struggle with the buckle. Finally, he takes over, taking care of the tricky metal contraption with one hand while staring directly into your eyes. It’s at that moment that you finally realize what all of this is doing to you…

The arrogant little smirk on his face while he licks his lips doesn’t help – the whole thing sends shivers down your spine and your body answers with a greedy throb between your thighs. You manage to kick your own boots off before Walter mercilessly tackles you to the bed. With a single, swift move, he rolls you both over, pulling you on top of him so you’re straddling his thighs, his hands firmly on your ass, kneading the soft flesh with admirable determination. His face does a poor job of hiding the fact that he likes what he’s feeling.

When you bend over to press your lips to his again, you shriek in surprise as his hand disappears from its newfound playground and lands there again, only a moment later, with a firm smack. He shoots an apologetic look at you as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you roll your hips against his by means of a faux-admonishment you’re nowhere near serious about. A man like that can manhandle the ever-loving fuck out of you every damn day. When he groans, your insides turn to jelly. In the heat of everything that’s been happening, you haven’t exactly been paying attention to what this has been doing to him, but that move of your hips makes you instantly aware of the very impressive erection you’re sitting right on top of. Another moan escapes him when you repeat the motion, his hands grabbing your ass tighter – nudging you, urging you to keep moving.

Suddenly, he sits up on the edge of the bed, keeping you in his lap, his hands finally moving underneath the fabric of your skirt. Walter moans again – appreciatively, this time – when his fingers explore the soft lace of your underwear. Then, he chuckles. “For someone who gets cold a lot…”

“Shut up,” you reprimand him before kissing him hard. The line between fun and functional is thin, and it wasn’t that you were expecting to end up in bed with this guy, but you sure as hell were hoping you would, and peeling off tights in the heat of the moment has proven disastrous on many occasions thus far. You shiver when he runs his hands up and down your thighs, lingering just above your knee, where his fingers toy with the hem of your thigh-high socks – an absolute requirement in your marginally successful attempt to not freeze to death – and you feel his cock twitch as he does. He likes them. Good.

Apparently, your smirk is too much for him, because he grabs the backs of your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing. Next thing you know, you’re on your back, and Walter hovers over you, diligently seeking out the most sensitive spots on your neck. He kisses a blazing hot trail down your chest, pushing your skirt up until it’s bunched up around your waist. You can almost feel his gaze between your legs, and the way he licks his lips wrings a whimper from your lips. Seconds pass in which you anxiously wait for his reaction – a mocking grin, a victorious chuckle or a vicious smirk filled with pity – but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel a hand on your thigh, creeping higher until you’re not sure if ‘thigh’ is still an appropriate label. His thumb softly trails the thin fabric between your legs. The smile that appears on his face isn’t mocking, cocky or challenging – it’s peaceful and almost grateful in a way you don’t quite understand.

“My turn to get you out of your soaking wet clothes.” It’s a joke, absolutely, but it’s a gentle one, just like his hands are when he hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, and he slowly pulls them down.

You’re holding your breath. At first you don’t notice – it really isn’t until his hands slide up your thighs again and you suck in a desperate breath that you realize just how welcome the air is. He pushes your legs apart, settling comfortably between them before using his thumbs to spread your pussy wide. Insecurities plague your brain. You should feel exposed. Insecure. Uncomfortable.

You don’t.

Walter looks up at you with a question in his eyes, and you mouth a breathless answer to his unspoken query. Please. Carefully, he inches closer, until you feel the tickle of the coarse hair on his jaw against the sensitive skin of your thigh. You can see the shiver travel down his spine as he licks a single stripe through your folds, and you moan in unison. Almost immediately, your hand weaves into his hair, pulling his face closer to your center.

He's thorough, relentlessly lapping at your clit while you squirm in his arms, strong hands firmly pressed to the back of your thighs, keeping your legs open for him while he takes his time exploring you, tasting your arousal and learning what works for you. After some time, you notice he settles into a rhythm that might actually work for you, which – as you’re somewhat reluctant to admit, even to yourself – is a rather rare feat. Encouraged by the movement of your hips and the sounds you make, he continues on his mission, and before long your grip on his hair tightens and your squirming gets worse – so much worse, in fact, that he reaches around your thigh to steady your hips against his mouth.

Outside, the rain threatens to turn into a thunderstorm, and if you’d been in any position to notice the weather, you’d have been happy to be inside. As things are, you’re still quite content with your whereabouts, but luckily for completely different reasons. Your back arches off the bed when you come, crying out Walter’s name as you do. With trembling legs, you lay there, your walls pulsing and clenching around nothing. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, his lips never leaving you as he kisses a path up your body again, effortlessly reaching for the clasp of your bra on your back. He doesn’t find it – your favorite just happens to close in the front. Once found, however, that pesky clasp is no match for his capable fingers, and only a moment later you’re shivering as the cold air of your bedroom brushes past your exposed nipples.

He looks at you briefly before latching onto your neck again, gently sucking and biting your skin, making you shiver. One hand finds its way to your chest, fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, fingers brushing tentatively past your hardening nipple, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers. You whine, writhing against the sheets, goosebumps erupting over your skin – the result of the electrifying combination of the slightest sheen of sweat meeting cool air. He grins. Chuckles. Then, he bends his head to suck one nipple into his mouth, that capable tongue passing over it, toying with it, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin, luring cries of pleasure from you in abundance.

Your hands all but scramble for the waistband of his underwear, slipping into the dark boxer briefs without a trace of patience. Fuck. Fingers wrap around – try to, at least – his unapologetically massive cock, images of that one night flashing before your eyes as you give him a few gentle strokes. A trembling exhale tells you your ministrations are appreciated, and you smile, hoping this is only the tip of the iceberg – a hope that is soon confirmed truth when he lets out a loud moan as you run your thumb gingerly over the underside of his cock.

A hand on the back of his neck, pulling softly, is enough to guide him to lie down next to you, and he smiles up at you when you sit on your knees. He’s all too eager to help you get rid of his underwear, and when you take your sweet time taking him in, in all his glory, he almost looks shy.

You start with a light kiss on his lips, then work your way down, fingers trailing the expanse of his chest, dragging slowly through the coarse hair on it, further and further down over his abs until they meet his hips, where they linger to draw teasingly light patterns on his skin. A featherlight touch of your lips to the tip of his cock makes him twitch and groan, and a soft tap on your ass urges you to keep going. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and with the tip of your tongue, you circle the head, teasing him until he’s impatiently moaning. His hand hooks around your thigh and pulls you closer – at first you wonder why, but soon after, his fingers run along your slit, searching for your entrance.

He pushes two fingers into your wet core exactly when you swallow as much of his cock as you possibly can, and both of you let out a long moan at the same time. You bob your head up and down his shaft in the same rhythm his fingers pump into you. It’s easy to figure out he likes it sloppy, and you’re happy to oblige. With the delicious symphony of moans and grunts that spill from his lips as an inspiration, you’re enjoying yourself greatly – which makes it all the more disappointing when he pulls his fingers back, a sharp smack on your ass breaking your concentration.

“Come here,” he says huskily, impatiently tugging at your arm.

You straddle his thighs again, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand to grab a condom, and waiting entirely impatiently for him to put it on. Normally, you’re somewhat nervous about being on top, but tonight, you couldn’t care less. You need this man inside of you.

Now.

Walter helps guide the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you slowly lower yourself, screwing your eyes shut at the stretch his incredible girth provides. Nails dig into his shoulder so hard he hisses, and you rest your head on his shoulder, whining pitifully against his skin.

“Easy,” he shushes you, sensing whatever distress you’re feeling, “take your time.” His permission helps; you slow down, and steadily make it all the way down his length. You take a moment to get used to the stretch, gradually relaxing around him. It feels no less full, but definitely increasingly less uncomfortable. Slowly, you begin to move your hips. It’s impossible to keep quiet – luckily, you’re not the only one who can’t seem to hold their tongue. Soft praise is mixed in with the abundance of expletives that come out of Walters mouth. “That’s it.” A personal favorite of yours, especially when he says it – a gravelly snarl through gritted teeth.

You could ride him forever – sure, your thighs will be sore tomorrow, but it’ll all have been worth it. Right? He clearly has other plans, pushing you off him unceremoniously. You’re on your stomach, and you half expect him to turn you around – but he doesn’t. Rough hands drag you to your knees, and – knowing what’s about to happen – you don’t bother raising yourself up on your elbows. They’ll give out in no time, anyway. Walter lines up behind you and sheathes himself to the hilt in one smooth thrust that has you gasping for air. He’s rough and demanding, yet kind and careful, clearly trying not to hurt you. Every thrust wrenches a moan from your lips, and your hand snakes between your legs, fingers drawing tight circles around your clit until you’re teetering right on the edge of bliss. His laughter when you beg him for more, harder, faster is largely obscured by the sound of rolling thunder outside the window. Your orgasm, when it finally does rip through you like an explosion, is theatrically accompanied by an almost unnaturally well-timed lightning strike.

“Dramatic,” Walter notes dryly behind you, his strained voice signaling his stamina knows a limit after all. In a moment of poetic justice, the storm lulls for a moment when Walter’s orgasm forces a sound from him that could be described as many things, but not ‘charming’. When he pulls out, your walls clench against nothing, and you whine softly at the somehow overwhelming emptiness. “Bathroom?” Walter asks, pointing at the other door in your bedroom. You nod, speechless, before collapsing on your bed.

His return marks the start of that awkward hooked-up-on-the-first-date-dance. Stay? Go? Hookup? Date? Yes? No? You sigh your relief when Walter hesitates for the shortest possible moment before crawling under the covers with you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and allowing you to snuggle into his chest.

“Do you mind if I stay?” he asks, a playful edge to his voice. “It’s raining.”

“Is that the only reason you want to stay?” you chuckle. It’s strange. Normally you wouldn’t be so confident he hadn’t been genuine in his remark.

“Well, eh…” he mutters as he nuzzles your hair, “there’s this woman…”

The sun is an unwelcome intruder in your house the next morning, and you do your very best to hide from the rays as long as possible. A new preferred method: burying your face in Walter’s chest. A very nice added bonus to the approach is that it comes with strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you tight. As far as you’re concerned – and you’re well aware that it’s a little soon to say this after one date, but it’s not like you’re planning on proposing today – you’re not letting this man walk, ever again. He didn’t complain when you warmed your icy feet against his legs yesterday, and the only reaction you get out of him when you put your cold hands on his body is a low grumble and an involuntary shiver.

“Morning,” he groans after a while. By now, you’re awake enough to at least make an attempt at playing host.

“Coffee?” you ask – a suggestion that’s met with an approving grunt.

On your way to the kitchen, you come across his discarded and banned-from-the-bedroom sweater – and you make the mistake of stepping on it, shrieking in surprise when the damp fabric touches your already cold foot. Coffee first, you decide.

“I have some bad news,” you say as you enter your bedroom with two cups of coffee in your hands, his sweater dangling from your pinky. “This is still wet.”

“Oh, god, no,” Walter says with a smile, “whatever will we do to pass the time until it dries?”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #night hunter

155 notes · View notes

trafficblr-confessions · 10 months

Note

I'm sorry I just can't keep it in anymore, I need release - people need to Shut Up about the content creators and their personal dynamics.

A comment on one of the Takeout Trio/Skranchers vods (Jimmy's vod to be specific) was complaining about how they're so refreshed seeing him playing with people that are "actually nice" to him and how they're sick of all the picking on him and it just.. Jesus christ, butt out? Jimmy is a 27 year old man. He has known his friends for years and doesn't need any of us policing him on who he spends time with or how he spends time with them!

I get it, I really do: I love Jimmy and I love seeing how he's improved and am happy to see him keep going! That moment during the Hermit x Empires crossover when everyone kept saying the best parts of Tumble Town were the pranks genuinely made me feel a bit sick in my stomach because it's just really tough.. but I just click off. Because I know that we see a very limited portion of the interactions between these people in real life. Because I know that if anyone was genuinely uncomfortable about something, it wouldn't really be our business and that the CCs can talk to each other about it off camera.

Beyond that, I love seeing what the fandom does with it! I love seeing the angst, I love seeing the hurt/comfort, the hurt/no comfort.. but then people make it about the CCs or they completely mischaracterize the characters and it's just so-- disheartening.

This happens with a lot of CCs and Characters, but I'm more specifically thinking about Jimmy and Joel (mostly because they're who I watch a lot and I love these silly guys) and how everyone seems to think that nothing but malice stands between them and it's so? Telling? Of how many perspectives they get?

If you just watch Jimmy's or any-outside-the-dynamic povs you might think Joel is Just mean to him,, but like,, good GODS these MEN make me INSANE. First of all, all forms of Joel express their love via pranks and tomfoolery and whatnot. Have you HEARD some of his intros? How he talks about himself between player Joel and editor Joel?? He is mean, yes, but it's GENUINELY like a love language for that man I swear. Jesus christ. What is his deal. Additionally, anytime he visited Tumble Town to prank Jimmy, he almost always ends up complimenting the buildings and how far Jimmy has come and Oh My God this MAN.

Fuck this, this confession is turning into a Joel fan rant. I love Joel. All my homies love Joel. That silly man is an ogre with LAYERS. He has loyalty, but where it lies is less within session to session and more season to season. He can be careless, but it doesn't mean he doesn't Care. There's so many moments in so many series and it's just YAHAGEGEH. Mans is SO... GRGRGGRGRGRGGAAAAAAGH.

One of his intros was literally addressing the fans with "You're all stupid, I love you." completely deadpan. LET THIS MAN. LET THIS MAN OKAY. LET THIS MAN.

"Am I socially awkward?" YES. YES YOU ARE. YES HE IS. HE IS SO FUNKY AND HE LOVES HIS FRIENDS HE IS JUST AWKWARD AND SILLY. I DONT NEED TO BE COHERENT JUST WATCH HIS VIDEOS AMD YOU'LL KNOW.

Also I can't find the post or remember who posted it, but know that whoever the person is that said something about how in every universe and every life Joel recognizes and loves his wife and then there's just his death game assigned soulmate Etho, know that I love you.

End of confession or I won't shut up.

#confessions #trafficblr #based #fandom #solidaritygaming #smallishbeans #long post

119 notes · View notes

blackoutdays13 · 2 months

Text

A life stopping crossover (cue the disco lights)

I am going to assign the Hargreeves sibling to the hunger games district I think they might be in. “Why” you might ask. I don’t know, I just had the idea pop in my head on a ride home.

Diego - District two masonry This one is quite obvious. Diego’s power is manipulating the trajectory of flying objects if something like that. So it would be no shock to have him working with the knives. Since knives are his trademark weapon. So I put number two in district two.

Alison - District one luxury I’m sure we all remember in season one how our first introduction to Alison was really when she was in a red carpet. And throughout the season she seemed to carry on that rich and powerful theme. She was a rich and famous actress and own could assume she has a rich taste. So my first thought was district one for her.

Five - District three technology. District three is smart as hell. Using logic and tragedy to win their games. How Beetee won his games is the main reason I thought to put Five in this district. I know one might think “no he would be in six because of his power” but considering what we know of district six it doesn’t really make much sense to have him there.

Ben - District four fishing. I swear this isn’t just cause of the tentacles… Maybe. I feel as though district four probably has quite a few deaths in its district. With them having to deal with the ocean. Which is scary and uncontrollable. I can see poor little Ben just being another poor worker who dies in a terrible accident. Since from what we know of his death it was unable to be saved. And I won’t forget about Sparrow Ben. He is a prideful little guy and could possibly like Finnick Odair (they are in no ways similar but you get what I trying to say). A guy who gloats about his skill and gains attention to district due to that. So Ben was easy to put in four. Mainly because of my beliefs on the districts death rate.

Klaus - District six transportation We all remember how district six is known for their drug use and how the victors were high on morphling and were called the “morphlings”. Klaus is well known for his non sober lifestyle and his unhealthy habits, so he would fit right in with the crowd.

Viktor - District eleven NEGLECTED DISTRICT. Viktor was neglected as he grew up. Learning not to expect any care. I know one might think to put him in twelve, but after season two (his farm era) I felt more compelled by district eleven. It’s also a district that receives plenty of abuse. I felt like Viktor would be in eleven.

Luther - District seven. I am going to be honest and say I didn't know what to choose for Luther. So I ended up with district seven because I believe it’s the district that requires the most physical strength. Again I didn’t know with him. Cause I know some might choose the Capitol of district one for him, but those just don’t sit right with me. He evolved as character too much for those. So ima just end it with district seven so my brain doesn’t explode.

Bonus 2

Lila - District thirteen Due to the way she was raised Lila was fairly isolated to what reality is. Since the handler lied to her and manipulated her. And I think that is fairly similar to district thirteens residents and how Coin is a lying bitch. Also the shock of thirteen still being up and running reminds me of the shock of Lila having powers. So thirteen felt perfect for her.

Reggie - Capitol This bitch ass doesn’t give two shits about any of his children. Sparrow or Umbrella. Much like how the Capitol doesn’t care about its districts. The people who supply them. Like how the Hargreeve children supply him with fame and do his biddings. Reginald is a very powerful man, much like the citizens of the Capitol. He and Snow would be great friends. So it’s no shock that I believe he would be in the Capitol.

Remember these are my opinions, and I made this post for fun. So feel free to disagree, but stay respectful. Also please do give your opinions on what district you think Luther would be in (just not Capitol of district one). I’m still debating on district ten for him.

#vi being vi #I believe I cooked #Tua #the umbrella academy #thg #the hunger games #viktor hargreeves #five hargreeves #alison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves

25 notes · View notes

sugar-glaze-donut · 2 months

Text

UPCOMING FICS

List of upcoming fics and requests! I'll keep on updating this so don't worry if you think I haven't seen your request :D

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN!!

[—🎀—🍩—🎀—]

Shy/Anti-social Aruji-sama - Requested by ANON A shy Aruji-sama who is very anti-social. Some butlers try to help with their anti-socialness, while others... may be the cause of Aruji-sama's silence. Not in a bad way! They just intimidate Aruji-sama (*cough*, Boschi- *cough* WHO SAID THAT!? CUZ I DEFINITELY DIDN'T 😪)

Aruji-sama who can't age - Requested by ANON A continuation of this fic. I just misunderstood a few things oopsie :3 This is an AU where Aruji-sama became a "devil butler" way back before Haures and Fennesz came. Except... they're not an average devil butler. Here's a hint! They can't feel human emotions, but they have empathy to make up for it!

Haures x You - Requested by a certain Haures Lover (OFFICER I'M TELLING YOU I SWEAR I HAD THIS REQUEST IN MY INBOX 😭) This might be a tough one since I'm single as hell *vine boom* and I don't know much about relationship headcanons. But not to worry! Me and my Haures loving heart will somehow make this real! (Live Laugh Love Haures)

Part 2 of Demon!Aruji-sama or a freshly new batch of Angel!Aruji-sama - Requested by ANON lmao making a continuation of one of my oldest contributions to aknk or a new Angel!Aruji-sama writing... very hard to choose... *sobs internally*

Another part to TOUCHSTARVED BUTLERS GRRRR - Requested by ANON *choked bleep noises* comparing hands with them... *cough cough* holding hands... *faints*

Butlers reactions to Aruji-sama with trauma/ despair - Requested by ANON angst but like... *makes hand gestures*...comfort at the end. ALSO LOTS OF METIONS OF NAC IN THIS GET READY.

Part 3 to "Life as an Angel in Akuneko" Spoilers! First part is about you taking with Akane (this world's aruji-sama) and Muu, and the second part is about Akane and Muu going back to the palace to find Haures warning them about the angel (you) that ran away from town a couple of days ago

Akuneko and Sanrio collab writing!??/1?!?!?!/!?1!!?? Is this even legal?? I have no idea honestly ( ._.) I just wanted to write how I think the butlers discovered the mini Sanrio characters, which led to them having a crossover/ collab

WE'RE GOING TO DELULU LAND WITH THIS ONE 🗣️🗣️

[—🎀—🍩—🎀—] Return to the main menu?

#akuneko #devil butler with black cat #aknk #あくねこ #devil butler and black cat #悪魔執事と黒い猫 #devil butler with black cat x reader #upcoming fics 🍩

25 notes · View notes

kaixcastiel27 · 4 months

Text

Okay, here's my theories and what I want in season 2 for Hazbin Hotel.

THEORIES

Lilith returns and reunties with Charlie and Lucifer

Lilith may had abused Lucifer due to the flashback in More Than anything, I may be reading too much into it, though!

Lute going rogue and lost her mind since Adam died.

Vaggie "where were you when Charlie needed you" moment with Lilith.

More info with Alastor made a deal with Lilith. (possibly to either keep smiling or to keep his mother safe in Heaven)

Fallen Angel Emily and Sinner Adam. (I swear if Emily becomes a fallen angel and ends up in hell, I'm going to need a punching bag like Morgan Terry has!)

New Guests at the hotel (apart from Lilith)

Vox and Alastor pawns for Heaven or Hell or both.

Lilith or the Vees or Lute are the main big villians for season 2.

Adam becomes a sinner after he died? I am not so sure about this one but I think it'd be interesting.

Lucifer gets closer to Charlie.

WHAT I WANT IN SEASON 2!!!

I want another beef song between Alastor and Vox because Stay Gone was awesome.

Need to see if Alastor and Lucifer agrees to work together, even if they still hate each guts.

I know it's probably too early for it but I wish to see Angel Dust to get out of his deal and for Valentino to die a very slow, painful and tortuous death (who's with me on that?)

I also want to see more full-on demon forms (Charlie, Angel Dust, Husker, Alastor and Lucifer)

I want either, Alastor, Niffy or Lucifer to kill Valentino, I don't see Angel Dust doing it because it would ruin his progress in season 1.

I don't want anything to happen to Fat Nuggets.

More Huskerdust moments (duh!) because I ship them just as hard as Not-So-Average Fangirl does.

More moments with Angel Dust and Fat nuggts since we didn't really get much scenes with them together in season 1.

Again, I know it's probably far too early for this. but...I want to know if my and other people's theory about Alastor making a deal with Lilith because it is not rocket sceince that he made a deal with "someone" and is leashed and was just as gone just as long as Lilith.

Again it might be too early for this, but I hope to see how some of them died (yes, I'm looking at you Angel) and ended up in a deal.

I'm also hoping to see some of the other sins/big demons dudes or women or some kind of tiny crossover with Helluva Boss.

I also want the episodes a bit longer.

I also want a lot more catchy butt songs

I want more Charlie and Vaggie moments and some kiss scenes.

Ialso want to see where everything is going to go with Lucifer.

39 notes · View notes

teaberrii · 7 months

Text

Chapter 7: The Unknowns

You and Dan Heng are a match made in heaven until fate takes him away from you too soon. Years later, you think you moved on with a mutual friend who shared your grief and stuck with you during tough times until you meet a mysterious man with a striking resemblance to your past lover and a hidden motive. You’re determined to get rid of him, but how are you going to get rid of a god?

Dan Feng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail crossover

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

“This is a miracle,” one of the men says. His waist-length white hair almost completely blends in with his white dress shirt that has a large detailed rose stitched in black on one side.

“We were worried sick about you!” The young girl walks up in her cute, black boots and dress with a red bow at the collar. “And here you are on a date?”

“I thought you didn’t know anyone here,” you say, looking skeptically at Dan Feng.

After a short pause, it’s the other man, the one with the short brown hair and long side fringe who says:

“We’re not from Xianzhou.” He walks up beside Dan Feng, and you notice he's also wearing a white dress shirt, except he also has a black, pleated open shirt on top and tucked neatly into his pants with a brown belt. “Dan Feng came first, and we were scheduled to fly in a little later.” The man glances at him. “He wasn’t answering his phone, so we were worried that something happened.” Then, he smiles at you. “Looks like he was with a woman.” Extending his hand, he slightly tilts his head. “You can call me Zhongli.”

Dan Feng quietly clears his throat and walks in front of you but faces Zhongli.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Dan Feng says quietly.

Zhongli gives him a look that says 'Yes, you better.'

“If she’s the reason you didn’t appear at the Luofu House,” the young girl says, “I’m going to smack you.”

Wait. Do you hear that correctly? Luofu House?

“You—” Dan Feng stops when he sees Bailu with a hand underneath her chin. She’s circling you, examining you from all angles.

Then, she walks up and extends her hand.

“Hi! I’m Bailu!” She walks a few steps, grabs the white-haired man's arm, and drags him over. “And this is Neuvilette, but he likes to be called Neuvi.”

“No, I do not,” Neuvilette says flatly, gently shrugging out of Bailu’s grip. Then, he looks at you. “Please do not call me by that ridiculous nickname.”

“Ouch,” Bailu deadpans. “Not even after all the money I spent on you?”

Zhongli walks past Dan Feng and says:

“So, what’s your name?”

The brief bickering between Bailu and Neuvilette goes unnoticed as Dan Feng looks from you to Zhongli and back to you. You have a little smile when you introduce yourself. Zhongli asks what you do, and Dan Feng swears your voice goes a wee bit higher. Or, is it just him?

“She”—Dan Feng casually stepping between you and Zhongli to put a little space—”has been showing me around the city.”

“Has she?” Zhongli asks, trying to look past his friend but Dan Feng blocks him every time. Finally, Zhongli stops trying. “I guess she took over Bailu’s role.”

“You said something about the Luofu House…” you say, and Dan Feng looks over his shoulder. You’re looking at Bailu, but she glances at Dan Feng who slowly shakes his head.

“It’s… the place the three of us are staying at,” Bailu says, still looking at Dan Feng.

“Is that so?” you slowly ask, and then you look at Dan Feng. “You aren't staying with them?"

“It wasn’t ready,” Bailu quickly says. She walks up beside Dan Feng and slaps him on the back. He frowns at her. “Brother Moon can get so impatient sometimes!”

“Brother Moon?”

Dan Feng almost facepalms.

“It’s a nickname,” Zhongli says. “Bailu likes to make nicknames for people she likes.”

“So… Are all of you friends?” you ask, a little skeptical.

“Colleagues,” Dan Feng says before anyone can say anything. “Zhongli and Neuvilette are my colleagues, and Bailu is—”

“His sister!”

Everyone turns to Bailu, and unbeknownst to you, everyone else is shocked at what she said.

“Sister?” you ask, eyes wide. “What a… What an age difference.”

“Adopted sister,” Dan Feng adds.

You still have so many questions.

“So… Why are you in Xianzhou?” you ask.

“I asked them to come,” Dan Feng says. “I told them I had a lead on what happened to Dan Heng.”

“Who—oof!”

Neuvilette glares at Zhongli who elbows him.

You notice how Bailu strangely keeps her eyes on the men. She almost looks confused. Then, you look at Dan Feng. “This is about work, so even your sister came along?"

“She looks young,” Zhongli says, “but she’s not. Believe it or not, she's the oldest out of all of us."

"She insisted on coming," Neuvilette says with his arms crossed.

"Trust me," Bailu says, frowning. "These guys wouldn't have survived a day without me."

“Long story short,” Dan Feng says calmly. “The gang’s all here.”

“Ah…” you say after a little pause. “I, uh, wow, okay. I guess this means you’ll be moving in with them soon.”

Bailu shimmies up to you. “Wait. Why would you ask? Were you and Brother Moon living together or something?”

“No,” you say with a short laugh. “We stay at the same hotel.”

“Is that how you two met?” Zhongli asks.

“Oh, that—”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Dan Feng interrupts you. “Let’s talk about it a little later.”

“That’s fine.” Zhongli walks up to you. “But, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s curious about the woman who got Dan Feng’s attention.”

“That’s—”

“Yes, I totally agree!” Bailu interrupts her Brother Moon. “He ditched us for you!”

As Dan Feng watches his friends surround you, he sighs and rubs the space between his eyes. Just how long can he keep lying like this?

“Why are you keeping her around?”

Now, it’s Neuvilette beside him. You, Zhongli, and Bailu are already walking back towards the palace entrance.

“You wouldn’t keep a human by your side if she isn’t useful,” Neuvilette says.

The men are walking side by side when Dan Feng says:

“It’s because of her that we got a head start.” He turns to Neuvilette. “The Aeons might be closer than we think.”

They are still trailing behind the group when Dan Feng gets Neuvilette up to speed.

“You had quite an adventure,” Neuvilette says with a rare surprised look. “So, I suppose it’s safe to talk about our operation with her.”

“With some little tweaks,” Dan Feng says. “Like calling the Aeons gods.”

“Now this man… Dan Heng… His name is too similar to yours to be a coincidence.”

“He was my brother,” Dan Feng answers, “when I was human.” He looks at you walking ahead. “Aeons aside, I have a personal reason for keeping her close by.”

“I hope that reason is with your head and not your heart.”

Dan Feng quietly scoffs. "It's a rational one."

“Does it have something to do with your past?”

“Perhaps." Then, Dan Feng turns to him. “Since when are you interested in these types of things?”

“The four of us have known each other for so long, yet we know very little about each other’s pasts. But in this unfamiliar world, we only have each other to rely on. I simply hope all of us get back safely.”

"How rare coming from you," Dan Feng says with a little smile. "Well, I’ve yet to figure out whether she is the woman I used to know."

“And what will happen once you do?”

Dan Feng faces forward. “Who knows?”

◆◆◆

Eventually, the group arrives at a newly opened coffee shop with groups of people inside and out. Bailu, Zhongli, and Neuvilette are the first to get their drinks, and they head up the small, spiral staircase and grab a table. While Dan Feng waits with you downstairs, Neuvilette tells everyone else about this earlier conversation with Dan Feng.

“Daaamn,” Bailu says, her chin on the lid of her hot drink. “Dan Feng got lucky.”

“Well, it gives some answers,” Zhongli says. “The family probably put the Aeons in positions of power in the company in exchange for what they did to Dan Heng.”

Bailu looks over and sees you and Dan Feng chatting. Dan Feng already has a drink in his hand.

“So… This woman might be someone from Dan Feng’s past?” Bailu asks quietly. Then, she gasps and looks back towards her brother sitting across from her. “What if they’re star-crossed lovers?”

“Bailu,” Neuvilette deadpans. “This isn’t one of those…”

When he can’t find the word, Zhongli helps him out.

“Television shows?” he asks, and Neuvilette nods. “Dramas?”

“Imaginative entertainment is what I’d like to put it,” Neuvilette says.

"Just say fiction, sheesh!"

At the counter where you and Dan Feng are waiting for your drink, you turn to him.

“So, your colleagues are looking for wanted people?”

“Nanook and Lan,” Dan Feng says. “They’ve been looking for them for years, and… There’s a possibility they’re responsible for what happened to Dan Heng.”

“You’re kidding… Right?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Do I want to know what they’re wanted for?” you ask as you pick up your drink.

“I wouldn’t tell you even if you asked.”

“That’s… There’s no way,” you say in disbelief as you and Dan Feng head to the table where everyone else is. “Tsaritsa isn’t the best person out there, but I’d think she would know better than to mess with, well, wanted people.”

“Tsaritsa?”

You and Dan Feng have reached the table, and you sit next to Bailu as Dan Feng sits across from you.

“Are you talking about the current CEO of Lunae?” Neuvilette asks.

Zhongli also adds his question. “What is she like?”

You had almost everyone's attention on the day Dan Heng officially introduced you as his girlfriend. Everyone except the quiet, intimidating woman sitting on one of the armchairs. When it came for her to introduce herself, she put her plate and teacup on the table.

“What does your family do?”

The question took you off guard. But, you quickly responded in kind:

“Might I ask why you’re asking?”

Her hollow, ice-blue eyes landed on yours.

“It should be obvious, is it not?”

“Tsaritsa,” Dan Heng’s mother immediately chided as if the woman were a young child.

But Tsaritsa didn’t even look at her.

“Yikes,” Bailu says with an uncomfortable look. “She sure sounds like a ball of sunshine.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Zhongli says, looking at you. “Tsaritsa is related to Dan Heng's mother who used to be the CEO of Lunae.” You nod. “I heard they didn’t have a good relationship.”

“It’s always been tense,” you say. “But, I never knew exactly why they were at odds with each other.”

“Then, one must wonder how the company ended up in Tsaritsa’s hands,” Neuvilette says. “Was there not a will? For a company as big as Lunae, I’d imagine a will must have existed.”

“The company would likely go to Dan Heng if something were to happen," Zhongli muses, "but considering he was also caught in the accident, perhaps that’s why it automatically went to Tsaritsa."

Dan Feng looks at you who’s holding your drink with both hands. “Did a will exist?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I never asked, and it wasn’t something Dan Heng ever mentioned about.”

“Well, if you ask me, it’d be weird if you did ask!” Bailu finishes her drink. “So… Tsaritsa is supposed to be the big boss. Is there anyone else that we should be careful about?”

“I’d say the entire family,” you answer.

“Tsaritsa’s family?” Zhongli asks.

You nod. “They’re a complicated bunch, and… not all of them are blood-related.”

“You have quite the family,” you said as soon as you and Dan Heng were alone in his room. It was just after you had been formally introduced, but the encounter with Tsaritsa was still on your mind.

After closing the door, Dan Heng hugged you from behind.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” he said quietly.

You put your hands on top of his. “Who was she?”

“A distant relative of my mother’s.”

You turned around. “She’s not your aunt, is she?”

“No. She was adopted into the family.” Dan Heng led you over to his bed, and eventually, you and him were sitting next to each other on the edge. “My mother never told me to call her by anything other than her name.”

“Then… What about the others? I know Childe is her nephew, but…”

“Scaramouche is her son,” Dan Heng said. “Adopted son, at least. As for the others… even I don’t know their relationship to her.”

You weren’t sure if you’d get an answer, but you had to ask.

“Why did your grandparents adopt Tsaritsa into the family anyway?”

Dan Heng held your hand, but he had no answers.

“So the mystery deepens…” Bailu says, stroking her chin. “This could totally be something like a true crime show. Who is this woman, really? Where did she come from?”

“Instead of a true crime show, it sounds more like a revenge story,” Zhongli says.

“Remember,” Dan Feng deadpans, “that this is real life we’re talking about. Not fiction.”

Zhongli smiles at him. “Ah, but haven’t you heard the saying?”

“The truth is stranger than fiction?”

Now, he smiles at you. “That’s right.”

Dan Feng looks from Zhongli to you and back to his friend.

“It’s too early to tell,” Dan Feng says, purposely reaching over to grab a napkin where his arm blocks the eye contact between you and Zhongli.

“Aren’t we getting sidetracked?” Neuvilette asks as Dan Feng sits back down. “We’re here on a job. Whoever Tsaritsa is… That’s none of our concern.”

“Have a heart, would ya, Neuvi?” Bailu asks. “I, for one, would love to get to the bottom of this mystery. If the Aeons had anything to do with it, it’s also our responsibility to bring it to light and clean up their mess!”

“Who?” you ask, obviously confused at the term you’ve never heard of before.

“It’s what we call them,” Zhongli says before Dan Feng can say anything. “It’s just a name.”

“An interesting one to say the least…” You finish your drink. “How’d you come up with that?”

“We didn’t come up with it,” Dan Feng says, beating Zhongli this time. Bailu and Neuvilette glance at each other. “It’s what they call themselves.”

After a small pause, Neuvilette awkwardly clears his throat. “I heard from Dan Feng that you work as an artist. You’re taking on a big project for Lunae?”

“What kind of project?” Bailu asks with big curious eyes.

Your phone suddenly buzzes, and you see it’s from your boss.

Their creative director wants to meet with you before the official meeting with the team. I scheduled a meeting with him at his office. Let me know if this time works for you.

“Do you have somewhere you have to be?”

You look up from your phone and see Dan Feng. “Ah, it’s just a message from my boss. Their creative director wants to meet next week.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“I used to… but after the accident, they replaced him.”

You catch the group exchanging a glance.

“Did you get a name?” Zhongli asks.

“I didn’t. You… don’t think it could be one of those people you’re looking for, do you?”

“If it is,” Neuvilette says, “you’re not going to get his real name now.”

“If it is,” Dan Feng adds, “they would be revealing themselves in the open. The question is why now."

No one has an answer.

◆◆◆

At the top floor of a building situated in the heart of Xianzhou’s business district is a large office space that’s dimly lit. A man with dark purple, waist-length hair tied into a ponytail is sitting at a wide desk big enough for two people. His dark blue eyes are fixed on his monitor with your resume on his screen. His long fingers are tapping against the table when the door on the other side of the room suddenly opens.

The man’s eyes flash towards Nanook who swings the door shut and strides in.

“Guess I was expecting too much when I assumed you’d pick up on human courtesy while we’re here.”

Nanook plops onto a black sofa, crosses one leg over the other, and rests his arm at the top of the sofa.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says, looking over at his Aeon friend. “I assume you heard the news.”

The man turns off his monitor and stands. “That we have a couple of unwanted visitors? Yes. Tsaritsa told me.” A hand is in his pocket as he walks over.

“Makes me wonder when they found out we weren’t rotting away in our cells anymore,” Nanook says, his fingers tapping against the top of the sofa.

“Are they the reason why you’re here? It’s not like you to worry, Nanook.”

“I’m here so we’re all on the same page.” Nanook uncrosses his legs. “I don’t want any surprises.” Then, he gives his friend a stern look. “Just like how I heard you want to meet with her. You may not look exactly like Lan the dragons know about in our world, but they know your name.”

“And you think I’m going to use it?” Lan asks. “Surely, you don’t think I’m stupid enough to do that.”

“Why are you meeting her, anyways? She’s just an oblivious human hanging around a god.”

“She might be the human he's looking for."

Nanook raises a brow. "He?"

The guards thought he was asleep, but Lan was wide awake. He slouched against the damp wall where a spider nearly the size of his hand had crawled by just moments earlier. But he’d seen worse in these godforsaken dungeons, so perhaps his worsening vision was a blessing in disguise. Lan’s eyes fell onto the magic-infused cuffs around his wrists and ankles that sent an unbearable pain throughout his body every time he tried using his magic.

Fuck this.

Lan rolled over until his back was against the damp wall, the sounds of the cuffs echoing in the quiet dungeon that you could hear a pin drop. But he couldn’t hear it as it was part of the torture. As punishment, his senses were slowly disappearing, and the first to go was his ability to taste. Now, he couldn’t hear anything. Lan could barely remember what his voice sounded like.

But suddenly, something rang in his ears. At first, he couldn’t make out what it was until it became more rhythmic. It was footsteps. But it wasn’t his. It took all of his power to stand, and once he did, there was someone whose face was completely in shadow because of the large hood over his head. His cloak covered him from head to toe, but Lan was sure it was a man.

How did he sneak past the guards?

“Do you want to leave?” the man asked, a gh ost of a smile creeping over his lips. " Why don’t we make a deal?”

“Ah, yes,” Nanook drawls. “Our mystery man who helped you escape.”

When Lan notices Nanook’s annoyed look, he smiles. “What’s with that look? Jealous, are you, Nanook?”

“Of fucking what?”

Lan shrugs. “You tell me.”

Then, Nanook gestures to Lan to continue. “Well, finish the story, would you? It’s the first time in a long time you’re bringing him up again.”

“You’d know the story by now if you had the patience to listen the first time.”

“Shut up.”

Lan slightly raises two hands as if surrendering. Then, he stands and walks over to his tea maker sitting on a long black table near the door.

“He told me he was looking for a woman,” Lan says while making tea.

“Oh, gosh, that really narrows it down,” Nanook deadpans. “Why didn’t you just pick one off the street to get rid of our debt?”

“Because it’s not just any woman that he’s looking for.” Lan pours the hot tea into two cups. “He’s looking for the woman who wronged him.”

“Wronged him?” Nanook asks after a small pause. “In what way?”

Lan walks over, holding the two cups of tea. “I don’t know,” he says, putting the cups on the table.

“What?”

Lan looks at Nanook. “I don’t know.”

Nanook scoffs. “How can you not know?”

“I don’t know what this woman has to do with him. But, the deal was that I needed to find this woman before the next dragon year.”

“The next dragon year…” Nanook frowns. “Isn’t that this year?”

“If we don’t, he’ll come deal with us.”

“I’d sure like to see him try,” Nanook mutters.

“I wouldn’t take him lightly,” Lan warns. “He had the power to get through the dungeon barrier unnoticed. You should know how strong that barrier was. Getting both of us here to this world… That was also a feat in itself.”

“Ooh, don’t tell me you’re catching feelings,” Nanook says as Lan shoots him a deadpan look. “I prefer seeing you as the desired bachelor next to me.” Lan rolls his eyes. “All right. Next question. What makes you think it's this human girl the one you're looking for?"

Lan quietly sips his tea. “I don’t. I’m going off of the hints he gave me.”

“Hints?” Nanook asks in disbelief. “This guy sure knows how to play games.” He finishes his tea in one chug even though it’s hot. “Well, don’t keep me in the dark.”

“This woman was someone important to Dan Feng and his brother when they were human.”

“That’s supposed to be a hint?” Nanook deadpans.

“Dan Heng was Dan Feng’s brother. Did you know?”

Nanook scoffs. “I barely know anything about the guy, but that isn’t shocking. Their names are practically yin and yang.”

“I was already keeping an eye on her when I heard about her and Dan Heng’s relationship through Tsaritsa, but I was never sure. She doesn’t look like the woman that I’m looking for. She also doesn’t have the right name.”

“Reincarnation can be a fickle thing,” Nanook says with a sigh. “I guess that’d make everything too fuckin’ easy.”

Lan smiles. “I wouldn’t be too surprised if Dan Feng is also trying to figure out if this woman is the one from their past.”

“So they can be a lil happy family again?” Nanook asks, rolling his eyes.

“If what this man says is the truth, she’s why Dan Feng never died,” Lan says after a small pause. “You know what that means, I’m sure.”

Nanook smiles. “She’s the reason he became a god.” Then, he crosses one leg over the other, draping his arm across the top of the sofa. “Whatever this woman did… it sounded like she messed up big time.”

Lan puts his teacup and plate on the table.

“But, she might be in better hands if Dan Feng got to her first.”

“It sounds like she’s going to get killed either way,” Nanook says, leaning toward Lan. “Why not just team up with him? He and our mystery man both want her dead, anyway.”

“Dan Feng might want her dead.”

A short pause.

“This guy doesn’t.”

◆◆◆

It’s evening by the time you’re back at Wangshu Inn. You and Dan Feng are standing at the entrance when Zhongli takes out his phone.

"Why don't we exchange numbers?" he asks. You don't notice Dan Feng giving him a side-eye.

“Yeah! It’ll be easier to schedule dates!”

“Dates?” Neuvilette deadpans but takes out his phone regardless. “Really, Bailu?”

Dan Feng watches you exchange numbers with his friends, and then Bailu looks up at him.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to keep staying here, Brother Moon. You have a home!”

“I suppose it’s the practical thing to do.”

“Practical?” Zhongli asks. “Don’t you like us anymore?”

Dan Feng keeps his stoic gaze on him.

“Or…” Zhongli smiles at you. “Maybe we can invite her over.”

“Actually…” you say before Dan Feng can get a word in. “I also live there.”

“What?”

The synchronicity is probably the most amusing thing you’ve heard all week.

"You're talking about the high-rise apartment near the suburbs, right?" you ask.

“Y-Yeah!” Bailu says. “You live there, too?”

“I have a flat there. It used to belong to my parents and now it belongs to me.”

Zhongli chuckles. “What a small world. I guess we’ll be neighbours.”

Dan Feng is looking at Bailu when he says:

“I’ll move back tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Bailu says, rolling her eyes. “Now he says he wants to come back.” Then, she sticks her tongue out at him. “Well, what if we don’t want you back, huh?”

“Then, I guess he can stay with her,” Neuvilette says.

“You’re joking, right?” Bailu asks after a moment of silence.

“Take it as you will.”

A short while later, you and Dan Feng are walking back inside the hotel when he says:

“You said your apartment at Luofu House used to belong to your parents.”

“Mhm.”

“Mind if I ask where they are now?”

You give him a side glance. “Why are you so curious?”

Not for research purposes or anything…

You and Dan Feng reach the elevator, and he presses the button.

“Does it have to do with the woman you mentioned before?” you ask, and he looks at you. “The woman who you used to know?”

“You still remember, I see.”

“How could I forget?”

“It does," Dan Feng answers after a short pause.

Well, great. Now, you want to ask more questions.

“Who is she?” you cautiously ask.

You catch his little smile that can almost pass for a smirk. “Why are you so curious?”

"Not like you started it or anything..." you say quietly.

The elevator dings upon arrival. “She was my everything," Dan Feng says, and you slowly turn to him. “Just like how Dan Heng was to you.”

Dan Feng walks into the elevator, and you follow him inside.

“But now she’s gone,” he continues, his voice low. He’s looking at you when the elevator doors close. “Or so it’s believed.”

End notes:

Man, the first half of the story took a lot of editing out of me. And a hint to our mysterious fella who let the Aeons loose... He's from Honkai XD

A short story idea has been eating away at my brain for the longest time, but it's for a different fandom than what I usually write for (Jujutsu Kaisen). Since it's only going to be five chapters, I might write it in between updates for this story to get it out of my brain @_@. So, just a heads-up.

Tag list: @lunavixia @sunsethw4 @aerithsthingss @boomie-123

#dan feng x you #hsr dan feng x reader #dan feng x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #imbibitor lunae

30 notes · View notes