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jaggedamethyst · 1 month ago

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not in that way (part one)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: steve rogers is your best friend, which means that inherently bucky should be yours too. somewhere along the way, it became more than that for you. for bucky, it's just tolerance. he likes you, but not like that. not in that way.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, protected sex (yeah wrap that up), rough, choking, fwb, mean bucky, mutual pining, not proofread

notes: thank you guys for the support on the snippet as well as for waiting for me as i got this done! i just finished finals so i plan on locking in on this one and circuit breaker bc i cannot stop thinking about them.

ps. i swear bucky and reader are friends, just had to hit the angst and give some background but there will be cute moments along with smut probably every chapter...I'm hoeing out.

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

“Steve?” You called out to him, steps pounding behind you as you hurriedly moved toward his pinged location. “Steve, oh my god.” Your voice trailed off, shock evident.

People brushed by you and pushed toward Steve’s figure on the ground. You’d never seen him like this. Sure, Steve Rogers was a super soldier and the most physically strong man you knew—but this was different. Mentally, he seemed destroyed.

He called your phone, short of breath and muttering for help. It immediately sent you into action. You were normal—the most civilian anyone could be. There was no other option but to call someone, plead with them to find and help your friend. He’d been washed up on the shore, lying in the dirt and clearly out of it.

You watched him get worked on, staring into the distance.

“What happened?” You kneeled next to him, “Who did this?”

Steve turned to you, eyes glossed over in disbelief. “Bucky.” He shook his head, “It was Bucky.” He kept repeating it to himself, attempting to convince his own mind that it was true. “It was him. It was Bucky. He was here.”

“I don’t understand,” you grasped his shoulder. “I thought he was gone—you saw.” You gulped, searching his face for any hesitance. “You said he fell, that he-“

“It was him.”

“Okay.” You nodded, “Okay, I believe you. He was here.”

It was true. The man you’d heard so many stories about had returned. He wasn’t like the anecdotes Steve recalled; this Bucky was darker, more quiet, resigned.

He was an observer. You often caught him staring at you, eyes lingering between your figure and Steve’s. Bucky would always stand, tucked into a corner. He didn’t feel deserving of the warmth Steve offered—the humanity that remained present in you. There were times, then, that you would offer a welcoming hand. A slight wave of motion offered him a seat, acknowledging that he did deserve to be there. He felt human with you.

That’s what initially drew Bucky to you and inevitably why you became friends, too. There was a way that you loved everyone, insisted on not leaving them out and nourished their insides.

The hurt came when he realized it would never be that way for him.

You could never love him, not a monster. Not when the shining emblem of a perfect man sat beside you every day. Steve had so much time with you—he was your best friend. Bucky couldn’t replace him, not if he tried. So he always kept you at arms length, hoping to be more than friends but settling for something less.

The first time it happened, when Bucky had been so lucky to have a moment with you—he swore that he was dreaming. He never gave you a reason to like him, in fact, it was the opposite. He’d gone out of his way every day to push you further from him, make it known that he’d never be as good as Steve.

He could tell you saw something different; he hated it.

The three of you had tried small talk often, Steve facilitating some sort of discussion to break the ice. It almost always ended with you and Bucky exactly where you started, friends who were forced to be so because of a mutual one.

“Well, I’m headed out—you two should talk.”

“Steve, no-“

“Buck, you two are my favorite people in the world. I would love it if you gave this a chance.” Steve patted his friend’s shoulder, “For me. Please.”

Bucky turned to look at Steve, a solid expression on his face. He didn’t speak, just gave him a small nod and let Steve step around him and out of your place.

It was common that Steve would find solace in your home. It was far from the city, neatly tucked away in a residential area. There was a sense of normalcy and he was proud to introduce that to Bucky—he needed that, deserved it after everything.

The room was silent, violently so. You sat across from Bucky—him lingering in your peripheral, and you nestled softly into your couch. He didn’t move, standing still near a wall that offered him the sight of every possible window and exit.

“Do you wanna sit?”

You watched his body for any reaction, dissatisfied when there was none. It was awkward, him avoiding eye contact and you not sure of what else to say.

You sighed. “I’ll be back.” You announced your departure, not that it mattered to him.

You beeline to the bathroom, desperately needing to escape him. He was always like this, closed off and so obviously annoyed by your presence. Splashing your face with water did little to temper you, and your body seemed to overheat at the thought of having to see him again.

You didn’t let yourself think—couldn’t. You stepped out and kept your head down before looking toward Bucky’s signature spot on the wall. He wasn’t there.

You tilted your head down, seeing Bucky now sitting on the couch, two cushions away from where you’d been prior. He watched you smile softly, moving to sit in your spot.

Bucky made a habit of keeping his hands in his lap. He would sit stoically at all times. It was the same now.

He avoided eye contact but muttered, “Hi.”

Your breath hitched, surprised he’d started a conversation. Keeping your tone even so as not to overwhelm him, you replied, “Hi, Bucky.”

The both of you nodded, letting the weight of your forced proximity surround you. As much as he tried, he couldn’t ignore you. The faint smell of your hair products, the way you tapped your own leg rhythmically, how nervous you were—he noticed it all.

“Do you, um,” you swallowed. “Do you want something to drink, maybe?”

It’d been over a year since Bucky had shown up. You, of course, shared small talk with him in that time. He’d grown to know the story of you and Steve—how you met. It would suffice to say that Bucky grew to be an acquaintance of yours—a long lost friend of a friend…one that would never truly like you. Accepting that was hard; you wanted Bucky to be comfortable at the very least. If not like you, he would at bare minimum be able to sit down for once.

So today was a win.

Bucky didn’t reply to your question but instead asked his own, “How was Steve? Without me, I mean?”

His voice was gruff, and you hadn’t expected that question, let alone more than a single syllable from him.

“Well,” you readjusted to face Bucky, “He’s always the most positive guy in the room—which I’m sure you know.”

Bucky let a smirk slip, recounting the optimism his friend had at all times.

“He’s better than me that way, than a lot of us.”

“I don’t think that’s true. He’s just Steve, you know that.”

He didn’t know that. Bucky was living in his body but observing from outside his own mind. He was witnessing his friend after so much time had escaped him. Everything he thought was true wasn’t anymore.

He wanted to get to know you, offer you the same grace that was given to him. But he couldn’t. Before it even begun, Bucky was overwhelmed. He pushed himself to be kinder, to do this for Steve. It was simply futile.

He stood suddenly and looked down at you. “I should go.”

“Okay,” you stood, nodding. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.”

He hummed, rolling his shoulders back and tightening his posture again. He didn’t respond.

“I’ll tell Steve you tried today,” you whispered to him. “I know he’ll appreciate it. I do.”

The tension was palpable. Your eyes stayed locked on each other until you heard a sound and looked down. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm was clear, only slightly suppressed by the gloves he always wore. He watched you noticing his hand twitch as if he wanted to move it. There was a restraint there, like he was pushing down something that was second nature. As if he meant to do something that he’d always done.

You swallowed hard enough to hear it in your ears. Looking at Bucky, you arched your brow in a subtle defiance—daring him to do what he intended. You wanted to know him and his habits, to understand even a modicum of what was in his brain.

Without thinking a second more, he let his left arm lift a bit. He reached toward your face but paused at you flinching, leaning away from him.

Just barely audible, you spoke, “Sorry.”

Bucky blinked and furrowed his brows, unable to stop himself. He let his fingers wrap around your face, a single hand pressing just under your chin and at the top of your throat. Slightly wide eyed, you watched him watching you. Most of his hand rested on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the other side of your face.

Despite no longer being the Winter Soldier, his habits lingered. When in that state he remembered being like this so vividly—a hand around someone’s throat and crushing the life out of them. He hissed at the thought, not at all intending for that with you. He craned your head, though, observing the quizzical look on your face.

It didn’t make sense to him, the need to maintain this routine. But he did. Beyond the haze of what was once his signature way of taking life—he saw a new one. Bucky could envision his future so clearly, yet he couldn’t let himself have it.

He went to drop his hand but stopped at the feeling of yours on his wrist. It was inexplicable. Glove or not, you craved the contact from him.

The room stayed silent except for the slight creak of the floorboards beneath you. While Bucky stayed steady, you teetered on the balls of your feet—this moment feeling fleeting.

He inched forward, watching your eyes fall closed.

Your lips were right there, the ones he’d openly been ogling at for months. It was torture, but all he knew. He couldn't allow himself the satisfaction of the feeling. He wasn’t deserving.

Instead, he latched onto your neck. Bucky kissed and nibbled there with an urgency you hadn’t expected—hell, you didn’t even think today would’ve progressed to this at all.

The feeling of him on you was intoxicating, and it was so minuscule. His hands were all over you, and yours on him. Your breath came out ragged, “We shouldn’t.”

“You’re right.” He paused on your neck briefly, directly in your ear now. “We shouldn’t.”

“We’re friends.” You nodded, letting your hands trail up his back and into his hair.

“Are we?”

You weren’t sure. It was complicated. You couldn’t let yourself think about that now and neither could he.

He pushed you down onto the couch and stood above you, allowing you to finally look him over. He was casually in jeans and a t-shirt, the rest of his body entirely covered. The only skin that showed besides his face was just below at his neck. Around it lay his dog tags, which he was so adamant about wearing. The glint of them always caught your eye and alerted you of his presence. Even when he showed up silent, you’d see him and those damn tags. Just always out of your eyeline but in the room—that was who Bucky had always been. In his stoicism, he was still consistently there.

Watching Bucky undo his pants already had you eager for him, too. There was always something there for you, an intrigue simply at the way he carried himself. You stayed seated, leaning back a bit in an attempt to slide down your sweatpants. Both of you watched the other discarding the bottom half of their clothes with little thought, tossing them aside.

He leaned, then, ruffling into his dark jacket’s interior.

“I got it,” he mumbled, ripping into the condom wrapper with his teeth. He slid the latex over himself just before pushing the jacket off his back.

He kneeled into the couch, the angle awkward but enough that he was able to slide into you like he wanted. It was tight—rough. You expected the burn but still sucked in a breath at it, the lack of prep. Bucky didn’t mean to make it this way but just wanted it to be over—the insatiable need to pump in and out of you. Only you.

Slowly and deliberately, he continued to kiss around your neck, collarbone, and ears. He snapped into you, purposely moving at a speed that allowed him to chase a high rather than savor the moment with you. He wanted to, truly…to acknowledge the way you looked up at him. It was his dream to let the sounds of you falling apart actually hit his ears and mean something, but he couldn’t.

The couch creaked and rocked. You were now slightly bent into the back of the cushions, your chest moving up and down alongside Bucky’s. He pulled back, stabilizing himself behind you. The new angle allowed you to see his dog tags again, them hitting you with every movement into you. Without thinking, you grabbed them, hooking them under one of your fingers.

He finally allowed himself some relief, his voice dragging out the moans he’d himself been holding in. “Fuck...”

You watched him intently, pulling him closer by the chain on his neck. He shifted his angle a bit at that and watched your jaw drop open. Your brows furrowed, whines choking out of you at the new sensation. It made you let go of his tags, grasping at the fabric of his shirt. This made him pound into you faster—realizing a tether of intimacy was gone.

He was subconsciously glad for that, happy that he could pinpoint and force that sweet look in your eyes away. There was no longer an adoration in your gaze but simply one of pleasure. This was for the best. He could appreciate you from a distance despite the line of friendship being crossed so carelessly now.

“Shit,” you groaned out suddenly. “Buck-“

He hushed you softly, quelling the harsh sound in your throat. It only spurred him on, though, truly ruthless about this. He only slowed at the feeling of your fingers gliding over his face, pushing the stray piece of hair out of view. His pace stuttered, faltering as he really looked at you.

A second later, he started in on you again. A clothed hand found its way into your shirt and pinched at your nipples. His grip was rough, kneading your chest. You were already so close; every additional sensation only pushed you further.

You met him suddenly, writhing into him and filling the living room with lewd slapping sounds.

Bucky huffed breaths out at every push into you. You fought a squeak, pressing your own hand over your mouth. You gnawed at it as it allowed some relief from the burning inside of you. He was hitting that same spongey spot over and over. He was so good at picking up on the subtle changes in your face and body.

Without warning he slipped out and nudged you, “Turn.”

You did without questioning, a firm covered hand rubbing at the skin of your hips. Regardless of his gloves, you felt the difference in his hands—the slight shift of metal in one versus the pulse in the other. There was a contrast you enjoyed, a chill about his metal arm that grounded you.

A knee pushed your legs open as he slid into you again, this time using you as leverage. Bucky pushed you down slowly, the side of your head finding the cushion. This angle was new, deeper. It wouldn’t be much longer at this point and he could tell. One hand slipped underneath you and up to your neck again, squeezing just enough for you to appreciate the loss of breath. In between gasps you nudged further into the couch, the sensation becoming too much for you.

He couldn’t stop when you came, relishing the way your insides continued to pulse. It was as if he was meant to stay; his one true purpose was to be completely enveloped by you. When he finished a strained sound choked in his throat, one that you hadn’t expected.

You were throbbing still, a cold feeling finally making you realize he pulled away. The feeling of him on you had gone away so quick. The sound of a different metal clanked—his belt buckle bouncing around as he slid his pants back on.

“Should we…should I tell Steve about this?”

Your question was sudden but was filled with a weight that scared him. You didn’t want to be too forward—but it was only right. Steve was now caught in the middle of something complicated. Even if this was the first and only time…you weren’t sure you could keep this from him.

Bucky thought differently.

“Why would you wanna tell Steve?”

“Because it’s-“

“Leave him out of this.”

Bucky readjusted his clothes, smoothing them over as they’d been before. You watched him inch his way to the door—his back toward you.

You ignored the pang in your chest, the confusion that now resonated in you. Pushing it away, you settled on changing the subject. “Steve wanted to do something tomorrow, you coming?”

He didn’t turn as he grabbed the doorknob, merely craned his head to the side. You watched his profile for any sense of something, but again, he was so unreadable for you.

“I’ll be there.”

Then he left.

part two

taglist (click to request to be tagged)

@crookedtimetravelheart @wintercrows @rimunagenius @gorgeouslylethal @taylormobley @fan4astic @chimchoom @lilulo-12 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hrlzy @foxinthestreet98 @lostinspace33 @royallykt @sleepysongbirdsings @pickuptruck01 @unclearblur @mrsalexstan @akiyhara @spaceconveyor @winchestert101

(for some of you it may not let me tag, check ur settings or if anyone has advice on how to fix it lmk!!)

#jaggedamethyst #not in that way #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #smut #angst #fwb #fwb reader

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msgexymunson · 1 year ago

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The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson.

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering.

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me.

8k words

Masterlist Part 2

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’.

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’.

Weird. This does not look like a printers.

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly.

Oh.

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop.

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors.

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it.

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look.

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’.

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare.

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.”

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?”

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare.

“Really? You?”

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance.

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?”

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over.

“You can let go now princess.”

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing.

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume.

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up.

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.”

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac.

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!”

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips.

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?”

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again.

“Are you immediate start?”

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-”

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.”

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.”

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you.

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it.

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this.

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations.

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.”

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.”

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time.

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad.

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled.

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place.

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that?

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand.

Oh I'm not falling for that again.

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed.

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.”

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.”

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here.

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms.

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him.

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.”

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away.

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.”

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing.

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie.

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie.

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?”

“Any appointments with Eddie?”

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?”

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back.

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm.

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?”

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.”

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement.

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!��

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back.

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!”

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind.

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand.

“Hey, how you getting on?”

“I'm good, just bored.”

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?”

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers.

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.”

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe.

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown.

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.”

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.”

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.”

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe.

Right, let's just play nice.

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing.

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light.

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.”

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you.

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?”

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-”

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo.

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing.

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.”

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step.

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people.

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots.

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were.

“Morning Eddie.”

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words.

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him.

“I'll be nice if you will.”

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee.

“I'm sorry Eddie.”

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Are you sorry…?”

“What for?”

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away.

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop.

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face.

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client.

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again.

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move.

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first.

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?”

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?”

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.”

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.”

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.”

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement.

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?”

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.”

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?”

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.”

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process.

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word.

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you.

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson.

“So, questions. Can I go first?”

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin.

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?”

“23.”

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.”

“How old are you?”

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.”

Act younger is more like it.

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?”

“Uh huh.”

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.”

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling.

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?”

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow.

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.”

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink.

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.”

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask.

“How did you start working here?”

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.”

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look.

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.”

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen.

“What band is that?”

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt.

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.”

“Oh, what do you play?”

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.”

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?”

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away.

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red.

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply.

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.”

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing.

“Your turn princess.”

“I don't want to play anymore.”

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.”

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?”

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.”

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.”

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.”

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused.

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you.

“All done.”

“Huh?”

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.”

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip.

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.”

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.”

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second.

“Eddie what do I owe-”

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him.

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line.

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap.

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it Miss?”

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?”

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee.

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him.

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.”

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer.

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear.

“What you up to, princess?”

“Fuck!”

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look.

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass.

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!”

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal.

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.”

Pouting, you hit him on the arm.

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-”

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands.

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home.

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you.

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing.

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door.

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it.

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there.

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.”

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest.

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away.

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself.

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away.

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?”

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.”

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist.

“For your modesty. Come with me.”

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried.

“What's going-”

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?”

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods.

“Not a problem.”

“Thanks, man.”

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth.

“I'll be right back.”

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin.

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar.

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face.

“What the fuck are you doing here.”

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.”

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.”

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.”

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal.

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.”

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you.

“Eddie, we're still working I-”

“It's one beer. It's alright.”

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?”

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug.

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.”

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier.

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.”

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?”

“Come on, don't make me say it.”

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you.

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.”

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty.

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull.

“And I'm the Easter bunny.”

Giggling, you take another sip of beer.

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.”

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?”

“I promise.”

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough.

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?”

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar.

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles.

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.”

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes.

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.”

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face.

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings.

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.”

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it.

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.”

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice.

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.”

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.”

“We can keep it professional.”

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord.

“Professional? You?”

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.”

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words.

“You're really confident.”

“You haven't seen what I can do.”

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.”

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.”

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need.

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?”

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?”

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind.

“Final rule. No kissing.”

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?”

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.”

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out.

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness.

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it.

Those theories are put to bed on day three.

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?”

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes.

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely.

“Maybe.”

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek.

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.”

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands.

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.”

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards.

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision.

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?”

“Hey princess.”

“Come on up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy.

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles.

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?”

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table.

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.”

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.”

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin.

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt.

“Yeah, you know who they are?”

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.”

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.”

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.”

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve.

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own.

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms.

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him.

“Come on then, sit down.”

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed.

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?”

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?”

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?”

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes.

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him.

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more.

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“Porn, sweetheart.”

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.”

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.”

“Oh. Right.”

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.”

“Huh?”

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him.

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-”

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.”

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.”

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?”

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.”

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.”

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm.

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop.

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?”

“Alright.” You whisper.

“You comfortable?”

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.”

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine.

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed.

“Now just chill sweetheart.”

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck.

“Fuck, that's really nice.”

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed.

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word.

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe.

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!”

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment.

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.”

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck.

“I- I haven't decided yet.”

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core.

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him.

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?”

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words.

“N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.”

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.”

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast.

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point.

“Really?”

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back.

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand.

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more.

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass.

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you.

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples.

“Holy hell!”

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach.

“Eddie, please.”

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit.

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest.

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?”

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs.

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel.

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more.

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?”

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple.

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess.

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison.

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control.

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-”

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him.

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent.

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair.

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-”

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up.

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light.

“What do you mean sweetheart?”

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...”

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.”

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief.

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again.

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.”

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.”

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.”

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting.

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #tattoo artist eddie munson #tattoo artist!eddie #teach me/show me Eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem reader

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jakesimfromstatefarm · 2 months ago

Text

fine line ── l. hs (teaser!)

update: this fic's been posted! click here to read <3

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au || crack, fluff, teensy bit of angst because a certain someone doesn't know how to communicate their feelings...

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── haii everyone it's been a long time coming...i've been having a MAJOR writer's block and also just kinda taking a break because work has been more tiring on my body so i've just been exhausted recently so i apologize for the lack of content,,,but WE'RE BACK! if anyone's ever watched backstreet rookie (it's my comfort show i love kim yoo-jung), i'm kinda going for those romcom vibes here hehe. this sneak peek isn't as revealing as my others,,,it's quite short but this one is gonna be a lil more rom-com mixed with eventual angst because what is heeseung if not a yearner?

send me an ask/comment if you'd like to be tagged !!! <3 (current tag list at end of post :D )

snippet under the cut!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?”

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night.

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and the same unimpressed, judgemental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spice and sugar.’”

Okay, ouch.

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not.

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off.

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help—” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.”

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know.

Do you recognize him?

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something.

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast.

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him.

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands.

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head.

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues.

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest.

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk.

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious.

And now you’re in his head.

Great.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

this made me crave ramen.

let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

<3, addie

current tag list: [bolded couldn't be tagged, sorry :( ]

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

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valentina-writes · 26 days ago

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Azriel x reader imagine

summary: it's your first time having your period after turning into a fae and Azriel comforts you.

warnings: (period) blood

A/N: Just a short little drabble. It's that time of the month and I wish I had an Azriel to cuddle the pain away. But I don't. So I pretend I do. (That sounds really pathetic, forget that I said that)

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Being a high fae had its perks. Near eternal life with Azriel, magical powers beyond human comprehension, the fact that your mate had the biggest wingspan of all illyrians... you particularly thanked the Mother for the last one. What you definitely weren't thankful for after you were made a fae was the cycle.

After a few glasses of wine, Feyre had once taken you aside and told you that things would be different in this body. She hadn't had the grace to mention exactly what would be different besides only having your period twice a year. She'd pay for that once you'd be able to get out of bed again.

Because, for some reason, what she hadn't told you about was the excruciating, mind-numbing pain that was ripping your stomach open from within.

Azriel had left at the crack of dawn, leaving you in bed. You had awoken to a cramp so strong you were sure something was ripping your body open. Getting up was impossible, so you had stayed in bed all day.

"Hi, beautiful". Azriel stepped into your shared bedroom and closed the door. You only managed a groan of acknowledgment. Cramps tore through you and a throbbing headache was forming at your temples. The shadows around him stilled. He came closer, frowning. "Is everything alright?". You nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. With long strides Azriel came up to you, eying you closely. And then he inhaled. "Gods, you're bleeding, Y/N. A lot. What happened?". Azriel's shadows escaped the his control and they swirled all around you in search of a wound. Of course they didn't find one. His gaze turned panicked and he reached out to you.

"It hurts so much", you whimpered.

And the night court's spymaster, fuel for many nightmares, feared warrior and shadowsinger, dropped to his knees at your side of the bed and stared at you in horror. He pulled the blankets off the bed in a haste, his eyes darting over your body. "Where are you hurt?". Azriel's scarred hand came up to your face and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, away from your sweaty forehead. His jaw was clenched, his wings twitching, but his eyes were soft.

"It's nothing really-" As if punishing you for your words, a strong cramp tore through your abdomen like a knife stabbing into you and twisting, tearing out the flesh. Groaning, you curled in on yourself, shaking.

"This is it, I'll take you to a healer". Azriel got up and held a hand to your forehead. It was nice and chilly against your skin and you sighed at his touch. His shadows and your pain alike clouded your view of him, but you could've sworn he was muttering something to his shadows under his breath. You only understood snippets of it. Fever. Hurt. Blood. But where?

"Don't take me to a healer". You forced yourself into a semi-upright position and Azriel immediately tried to push you down into the covers again. "Az, I'm on my period"

"Oh, thank the Mother", you thought he said before dropping his face into his hands. And then: "I thought you were dying".

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "It sure as hell feels like it"

Before you could protest, he quickly unlaced his boots and took off his leathers before pulling back the covers.

"I'm sorry, I bled on the sheet", you weakly excused the red stains.

Azriel didn't even look. "I don't care", he huffed and lay down next to you. Strong arms snaked around your waist and lightly caressed your abdomen.

"My poor darling". Warm lips found your cheek. "Why didn't you call for me?".

"I didn't want to keep you from work"

"That's bullshit". Azriel rubbed your belly. "You're in pain and I wasn't there for you". He frowned into your shoulder.

"But now you're here", you sighed and curled into him.

"How can I help you?", Azriel breathed against your throat, "tell me how to take the pain away". His fingers splayed over your stomach and he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"A bath", you whispered, "warmth used to help before". As a human. You had no idea if it would help now.

"Hm... I think I heard about that", he murmured. "Let's get you to the bathtub". All of a sudden, the warmth of his body against yours disappeared.

"Come back to bed", you whined, "I reconsidered. I only need you". A light chuckle from your mate. Then, without asking, he swept you up into his strong arms. "Later".

Azriel carried you into the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom and carefully sat you down onto the rim of the big bathtub. "Can you undress or do you need help?", he asked while running the water and checking its temperature. Your lower back protested as you stood up and were met with a sharp stab of cramps that had you doubling over. The only thing that kept you from crashing onto the floor was Azriel, whose arm you were clutching for support.

"I can do this. Don't worry, this is hardly the first time I'm bleeding". Concern was etched into his features. Azriel's eyes narrowed as he took in the state you were in.

"It is your first fae period. I heard it doesn't compare at all".

"It's fine, really". He observed your movements as you went to pull off your shirt and slightly relaxed when you didn't almost fall over again.

"I'll be back in a minute". He pressed a kiss to your head and left.

The water was just the right temperature. Its warmth felt heavenly against your abdomen. It didn't quite take away the pain, but made it bearable. You closed your eyes and sighed.

Long fingers threaded through your wet hair. "Is that good?". You hummed in agreement.

"Thank you".

"That's the least I can do". Shampoo pooled on the crown of your head and Azriel's big hands started working it into your scalp. "I'd do anything to make you feel better". He said it so earnestly, but the bond between you glowed like molten gold. You'd never be able to put into words just how much you loved him.

He lightly massaged your head and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. "I love you. So much", you hummed.

Azriel helped you out of the tub soon after and helped you into fresh clothes before carrying you back to bed.

Fresh sheets greeted you, as well as a hot water bottle. "I'm really sorry about the sheets", you stated in embarrassment. Not only had he seen them, lain in them, he had also changed them for you without batting an eye.

"I've fought many battles. A little blood is nothing I'm not used to", he stated matter-of-factly. As if he hadn't even thought about it like that.

You curled up against him again immediately. "Next time, use the bond. I don't want you to be in pain alone"

A week later

"Hey Y/N, better already?". Cassian stood in the hallway of Rhys's townhouse, a glass of wine in hand. You were early for dinner.

"You try losing half your blood in a week. Then we can talk", you spat. Azriel next to you took your hand, grounding you.

"Really, Cass, you don't get a say in this". Mor appeared behind him, smiling softly at you. "I'm glad you're better".

"Would've been easier if I had known what to expect", you responded, but your words had no bite to them. Azriel tugged lightly at your hand and led you into the living room.

"I hope she told you about fae ovulation". You whirled around to Cassian, perplexed.

"What are you talking about? What – what do you mean?". But Cassian only laughed. You turned to Azriel. His neck and ears were turning red and his shadows clung so tightly to him you were sure he wanted to disappear from the face of the earth right there.

"Oh honey, you're in for a ride", Cassian cackled.

#azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader fluff #azriel fluff #azriel x you #fluff #azriel drabble

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theetherealbloom · 10 months ago

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I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort,

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D”

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls.

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

2K notes · View notes

nanaslutt · 1 year ago

Note

NEED A PART 2 OF MMA TOJI RNNNN

Pt 1. here

Contains: fem reader, angst to comfort, fluff, lots of screaming & crying, manhandling, Toji isn't the best with his feelings, confessions, mutual pining, cunnilingus, Toji cums in his pants, soooo much dirty talk, sweet sweet lovey dovey filth, hickeys, biting, crack :3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You woke up from your nap with the grating jingle of your phone ringing on your nightstand. You sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eys, glancing at the clock- 9:13 pm. "Fuck, I must've been tired." You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck as you grabbed your phone right when the caller ID of Toji's assistant disappeared from your screen. It was then that you noticed how your phone had over 35 missed messages from the team, 5 plus calls, and even a text from your best friend, Shoko.

"What the fuuuuck?" You whispered into the room, standing up to flick on your light, your phone started ringing once more- Toji's assistant was calling again. You slid the green check over, answering the call, "Are you with Toji right now?" Her rushed voice spoke through the phone. "What? No, I was sleeping." You answered, sitting back down on your bed as you sat criss crossed on top of your sheets. "Fuck, he won't answer his phone." She cursed, the sound of a car revving could be heard in the background- why was she driving this late?

"You're scaring me, what's going on?" You said, swallowing the lump in your throat as you fiddled with the hem of your shorts. "I'm so sorry babe, it's okay, but I'm going to need you to stay off of your phone, I'm on the way to pick you up now." She said as calmly as she could muster. "Please tell me whats going on, is Toji okay?" You asked, holding your hand over your chest as you felt a sort of nauseousness come over you. "I don't know what that asshole is doing, he's probably drunk or something." She responded, cursing under her breath some more as she finished.

What the fuck did that mean? You put her on speaker and swiped out of the call, not wanting to give her any indication that you were scrolling through your phone after she just told you not to. The first message you checked was from Shoko.

Shoko: Is that video real?

Shoko: Babe, pick up your phone, what the fuuuck is going on

Shoko: This is not the time to be napping, fuck, pick up right now

You scrolled through was seemed like an endless row of texts from her that all read the same thing, until one caught your eye, making your heart sink to your stomach.

Shoko: Why didn't you tell me you were hooking up with Toji?

Your heart started beating out of your chest, you covered your mouth as you felt something rise up your throat, your face felt hot as you took in her words. How did she know you and Toji had been hooking up? Your swiped over to the work group chat that Toji was excluded from and started from the top.

Main manager: Someone get ahold of Toji NOW, and let me know the moment you do, he's playing with his fucking future here.

The thread continued with your coworkers all chattering about Toji, most of them saying how he wasn't responding, this and that- a couple girls you were close with were asking in the chat how you were doing. You were going to be sick. You saw one of his managers say something about a Twitter video in the thread. Faster than the speed of light, you opened up the blue bird icon, and your feed was immediately flushed with snippets of a video you had partook in earlier that day, of you and Toji fucking in the PT room, the most noticeable account that was posting them being Toji's himself.

It was only then that you registered Toji's assistant had been talking to you as her repeated call of your name left her lips and entered your brain. "Fuck." You covered your mouth with your hand and rushed to the bathroom, your name could be heard yelling out to you through the speaker as you barely made it into the restroom in time. Coughing as your knees lay next to the toilet bowl, you heaved air into your lungs as you tried to process what was going on. You were so scared; a million questions rattled through your brain.

Why would Toji post that now? The two of you had been doing this and filming it for months, so why now? Why could no one get ahold of him? Were you going to get fired? We're you safe right now? Toji has been the sex symbol of the MMA world for years, he had too many fangirls to keep track of, surely they had it out for your head now. You groaned into the small space of the bathroom, flushing the toilet you stood up on shaky legs and walked back into your bedroom.

Toji's assistant must've heard your breathing because she called out to you again, "Are you okay? I heard the toilet flush. Fuck I'm going to kill him I swear I-" Your weak voice cut her off, "I gotta go." You said, not hearing her protests as you clicked the big red button on the screen, ending the call. Anger, confusion, and sadness along with all of these unanswered questions consumed your entire being as you opened up Toji's chat and spilled your guts out to him.

You screamed, your voice cracking as fat tears rolled down your face, curses coming out broken as you choked on your words; and to think you were actually starting to like him. Of course, he was like all the others. You threw your phone against the wall, a loud thumb resounding against the hard surface as you buried your head in your hands, sobbing into the silent room as you waited to hear the knock of Toji's assistant through the wall.

Toji doesn't think he's ever felt so frantic in his life, even amidst all the chaos that would come with showing his face in public, especially around what was going on right now, he forgot to throw on a face mask as he ran into the elevator, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the numbers to decline, hitting the bottom floor.

How was he going to fix this? Could he fix this? He swore he would never throw another punch again if he couldn't make this right, fuck being the world champion MMA fighter, that didn't mean anything if you weren't there by his side. He was thrown back to earlier that day when he had invited you over to his house for drinks, feeling dejected when you had to decline, saying you had a lot of work to do and errands to run- and so little time to do so. He couldn't help but think how things would've been if you had come over for drinks.

The two of you would've drank some expensive liquor he got from some rich old man at a company dinner, probably bickered; as the two of you did. He bet you would've been rolling around together in his sheets right now, continuing what had occurred earlier in the day. He ultimately would've missed the text he got from the strange number from being so absolved in you-- or maybe the two of you would've been cuddling by then, your naked chest pressed to his as some show played in the background of his too-large bedroom while he sipped on the expensive liquor and felt your heartbeat against his skin.

There was always the possibility he could've seen the message after the two of you were finished, and clicked on it anyways; at least then you wouldn't be thinking he betrayed your trust and had leaked the video himself, and you could've delt with it together.

He couldn't stop thinking about how uncharacteristically sad and weak you sounded. The anger still being evident in your voice, but the sorrow and betrayal were thick in your tone, you sounded utterly defeated. He had never heard you curse his name in the way you did through the phone. You really sounded like you meant it. By the time he came to, he was already halfway to your house, he had no idea how he had gotten so far and not realized. He could have been running people down in the street and passing through every red light and not have known.

He prayed he would make it to your house before anyone else did, after all, he knows all the shortcuts to your home, he had spent a lot of time there over the past months you two had been doing whatever it was you were doing. He swerved past cars, ignoring his blinker signal as he raced through gaps in the lines of the road between vehicles, not being conscious of his well-being as the only thought on his mind was to get to you.

He pulled into your housing complex, parked his very expensive car on the side of the road, and didn't even bother locking it as he made a b-line for your front door. You were still crumpled on your bed and crying when you heard the frantic knock on your door, signaling to you that Toji's assistant had arrived. You pulled yourself off of your now tear stained sheets and wiped your wet cheeks before you started making your way for the front door.

The pounding continued, making you scrunch your eyebrows together in annoyance. You know she had no idea how to know if you heard her, but you were feet away from the door, have some patience. With a sigh, you turned the handle to your door and swung it open, stepping to the side to let her in, when you froze. Standing in front of you was none other than Toji himself, he was panting like he had just finished running a marathon, his hair was damp, his shirt was wrinkled, and he looked more of a mess than you did.

For some reason, Toji was the last person you were expecting to see, hearing about his disappearance from everyone and all. You registered his presence too late as he forced himself through the doorway and into your home. "Toji-" You started, feeling the anger start to rise, and the tears start to form in your sockets. "Let me talk." He said, quietly, shutting the door behind him as he took slow and careful steps toward you as you backed away.

You felt like the prey, and he was a predator the way he was stalking your movements. "Ill scream right now." You said as serious as you've ever said anything, keeping your eyes on him, unwavering. "It wasn't me-" He tried to speak. "Get the fuck out of my house!" You yelled, not wanting to hear him out. He called out your name softly, followed by a please. "Toji, get the fuck out!!" You repeated, pointing your hand angrily to the door behind him. Your sudden movements broke his stalking spell as he took long strides quickly up to you. "Stop!" you yelled again, louder this time.

You turned away from him to excape to another room, but you were too late. He grabbed your arm with a force that scared you, keeping your body in place as he wrapped the arm around your body, placing his other hand firmly over your mouth as he pressed you back against his chest, keeping you in place there. You tried yelling against his palm, curling your arms up to dig your nails into his forearms as you wiggled against his iron grip.

He knew this was absolutely the wrong way to go about this, but he had never done anything like this before, his emotions were too overwhelming. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He whispered, holding you against him, making sure his hand placement on your hip wasn't hurting you too bad as he brought you down on the floor to your knees, all the while his hand stayed over your mouth as tears flowed freely down your face, curing into his hand.

"It wasn't me, baby it wasn't me who posted that video." He said softly, keeping his hand over your mouth while he got his words out, making sure you were listening. "I would never do that to you." He continued, while you gripped his large forearm with a force he didn't even know was possible for you to exert, breathing heavily as your screams and attempts to excapre from his arms died down.

How were you supposed to believe him? A part of you really wanted to, Toji did not seem like the kind of man who would do this, so boldly if anything. Why would he post your sex tape on his main account unless he was batshit crazy? But you knew there were definitely secrets this man had under his belt, which made you skeptical as you tried to listen to his words, taking deep breaths in through your nose to get your emotions under control.

"My phone got hacked, that's the reason no one could reach me, the reason you couldn't reach me." he made a point to emphasize. "I clicked on some stupid fucking link because my ego felt bruised.." He paused, to which you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion at his explanation, but listened nonetheless. "And my phone shut down. I got a call from my manager cussing me out for posting that shit, but I explained everything to him." He said softly, keeping his iron grip on your body.

The tears still flowed over your cheeks, dampening his fingers as he spoke, "When I saw your messages I came over here as fast as I could, I'm sorry for not responding I-" He paused, swallowing a lump in his throat, "I couldn't let you think I would do this to you, I had to know you were okay." He said, feeling his face heat up at the words he was saying, the man had never been so vulnerable in his life.

He kept his hand around your mouth for a couple moments after, letting you absorb his words before his hand fell from your mouth, the arm around your body loosening in tandem. "Never grab me like that again." We're the first words that fell from your lips, making him wince at your harsh tone. "Where is your phone?" You asked next. "My house." He responded quickly, trying to gauge your reaction now that you had heard the truth.

You stood from his grasp, his body staying on the floor as he watched you get up and walk forward a couple steps, looking like you were wiping your eyes while you faced away from him before you turned around to look at him, and with a quivering lip you sighed, sliding your body down the wall adjacent from him, only a couple feet in front of him as you tipped your head back against the wall and let the hot tears roll down your flushed cheeks, "Fuck." Your voice came out cracked, "What am I going to do." You cried, covering your mouth as you kept your eyes shut, sobbing in front of him.

"The team is meeting at my house, we'll figure this out." He spoke, trying to reassure you, but his words only resulted in you snapping at him. "Easy for you to say! Everyone is in love with you! Do you have ANY idea how many people would kill to sleep with you?" You said, dropping your chin as you raised up from your spot on the floor, now standing in front of him.

He called your name, slowly standing from the floor as well as you continued yelling at him, "Those people are going to hunt me down for this Toji! Fuck! This is such a fucking mess, I should've never slept with you in the first place." Toji's breath caught in his throat as your words hit him harder than any punch he's ever received in the ring. You continued pacing in front of him, running your hands through your hair and cursing under your breath.

"You really mean that?" He said, making you stop your pacing. "You would really take all of that back?" He was trying and failing to keep the hurt out of his voice, but you were too overwhelmed to notice it anyway. "Well we wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't kissed me all those months ago would we?" You spat, looking him up and down. His eyebrows scrunched together as his eyes squinted at you, "This isn't my fault." He spoke, tilting his head at you.

"Who's fault is it then?" You challenged, walking up to him and placing your chest inches from his. "YOU hired me on the team, YOU kissed me first, YOU took the first video, YOU started this." You said, poking your nail into his chest with every point you made. "So were just going to skip over how YOU accepted this job, YOU kissed me back, YOU begged me to take the video, this is not my fault!" He yelled back, shaking his head at you.

"Well, It's sure as hell not mine!" You defended yourself, backing up from his body as you shook your head in disbelief. "I never fucking said it is!" He yelled your name, "This is not out fault!" He tried to keep his composure, but you were making it so fucking hard. "Then who's is it then, huh? Who's is it?" You challenged, tilting your head at him and squinting your eyes as you waited for a response that never came.

"That's what I thought If we just never fucking started this in the first place, we. wouldn't. be. here." You spat through your teeth, making the vein on his forehead pop out in annoyance as he felt his heart sink to the bottom of his feet. Maybe he was wrong about you, he really thought there might be something here but the way you were so willing to wish so easily that you never started this with him in the first place was making him rethink that. "Fuck!" You shoved his chest when he didn't answer, walking into your bedroom to excape this conversation, you felt like you were going to be sick again.

"Where are you going?" He yelled, walking after you as you made your way through the doorway into your personal space. "Anywhere if it means you're not there." You said back, biting your lip between your teeth as you tried to take deep breaths to calm your angry stomach. You weren't sure you were even mad at Toji for this, you just needed someone to blame. He was right after all, you took on this job, you chose to cross this line with him, you consented to everything, but the thought that you might even be a little responsible for this was driving you to deflect, deflect, deflect.

"That's it then? We're done talking?" He said, following closely behind you as you distanced yourself from him with the bet between you. "Toji I don't know what else you want me to say." You said, waving your arms out in front of you as you sighed, shaking your head at him. "Tell me you don't regret this." He said, the sadness returning to his voice. "Tell me you don't regret the last 12 fucking months we spent doing this just because of this." He said like the current situation was nothing.

You laughed incredulously, finding no humor in the situation, "This, could very well be the end of my career." You said, ignoring his first demand. "This might be nothing to some big hot shot celebrity like you, whos sitting on some fucking gold mine, but I'm a little different Toji, I'm not some famous celebrity who can just never work again after this and be fine." You said, your lip quivering as you spoke.

"That's not what I meant." He tried to interject, to no avail as you continued ranting. "Who is going to hire the slut who whored herself out for the number one MMA fighter in the world? No company wants that kind of baggage." You said, shaking your head. "Don't say that shit about yourself." He said, looking sternly into your eyes. "That's all they fucking see Toji, that's all everyone thinks I am." You said, huffing out a curt laugh once more.

"Who cares what a bunch of strangers think about you? They don't matter!" He tried to reason. "You don't fucking get it! You're not listening to me!" You responded, raising your voice. "No, You're not listening to me!" He yelled loudly, catching you off guard at the desperation in his voice. "It doesn't matter what they think because I know. I know what you are. Do you want me to spell it out for you? Huh?" He yelled, his voice cracking as your crying picked up again, hot tears running down your face.

"I love you, okay? I'm in love with you." He yelled, his chest heaving. "Do you see me talk to anyone the way I talk to you? I don't even fucking look at anyone besides you." He said, exasperated, watching the fat tears roll down your cheeks as you watched him with a slack jaw as he made his way to your side of the bed. "The first person I look at when I finish a match, it's always you. It will always be you." He said, grabbing your face in his hands as you stared up at him, silently sobbing, your hands coming to rest on the small of his wasit.

"So tell me you don't regret what we've built, tell me." He said, clenching his jaw under the weight of his teeth. Your red eyes gazed up at him, iris swirling with confusion, sadness, anger, reciprocation. You were thrown back to what started all this as you stood on your tippy toes and crashed your lips with his, hot tears flowing freely from your eyes.

Toji inhaled sharply, wiping the hot tears from your cheeks before dropping his hands to your waist he pressed you against his body, moving your lips together needily. You whined shortly into his mouth, smoothing your hands over to the front of his chest as you started pulling up his shirt, trying to get him naked. Toji understood fully, pulling away from the kiss, he yanked his shirt off of his body in one swift movement and placed his large hands back onto your hips, connecting your lips again.

Toji walked the both of you back a couple feet, bumping the back of your shins against the bottom of the bed frame. You wrapped your arms around his strong neck and let him pick up your body, his hands coming to grip under your thighs as he wrapped your legs around his torso and climbed onto your bed, laying your back down on the sheets.

The two of you gasped and panted into the other's mouth through the messy kiss, quiet moans could be heard from the both of you when Toji started humping his hips shallowly into your clothed cunt, to which you wrapped your legs tighter around his large frame, encouraging the feeling. "I don't-" kiss "regret this-" you whispered against his lips, opening your eyes that locked onto his darker ones, blurry from the proximity. "Yeah?" He breathed into your cavern, one of his hands coming down to pull your legs off of his waist so he could pull your night shorts off.

"Yeah~" You wined, running your hands over his toned chest while he leaned back on his heels and pulled your shorts and panties down your body in one swift movement, exposing your already-soaked cunt to his eyes. Toji wrapped his arms around your thighs and pushed you higher up on the bed, making room for himself as he slotted himself between your legs, gripping around the fat of your thighs, he let you sling them over his shoulders as he pressed soft but needy kisses to the insides of your thighs.

"Toji~" You whimpered, keeping your swollen eyes on his as he looked up at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He tightened his hold on your thighs, squeezing the fat in comfort, "It's just us baby, let me take care of you." his deep voice spoke softly. The rapidness in which you were experiencing all of your emotions at once was giving you whiplash, but Toji's comforting thumb rubbing your skin was helping you ground yourself.

You nodded, and with that, Toji vacuumed his lips to your clit and got to work. "Ffuuck~" You wined breathily, tipping your head back against your familiar sheets-- heavy eyes shutting in pleasure as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud, humming against it. He kept his eyes on you the entire time, soaking in each and every one of your reactions. He released your clit with a pop; sticking out his tongue he dragged it through your folds before bringing the wet appendage back up to your clit and drawing his name across it.

Toji started humping his hips into the mattress, not being able to handle your soft moans echoing into his ears and his alone. He felt like the two of you were the only people in the world, he hoped you were feeling the same. He knew he couldn't fix this situation with the snap of his fingers, and it was sure to come with some level of consequence for the both of you, but he didn't want you to think about any of that right now, he just wanted you to focus on his tongue, and the pleasure it was bringing you.

He wished he could make you feel like this all the time, you looked like you were experiencing complete bliss, the way your eyes were screwed shut and your head was thrashing, you looked like you were in another world mentally from his tongue. Toji felt extra sensitive at this moment; maybe a combination of the confession and your sweet moans, the way you were squeezing his head with your thighs, your taste, all of it was making him feel like a virgin.

The mattress was also working him over surprisingly well. The ache in his cock was so strong, so he appreciated any sort of relief, he just didn't expect humping the bed sheets like some pre-teen would feel so good-- once again he thinks he had you to thank for most of what he was feeling. He couldn't help but wonder if he could get off like this; losing himself in your cunt as his thoughts kept rolling, he rapidly flicked his tongue on your sensitive bud, keeping his eyes on your flushed face.

"Right there- Fuck- Toji-" You wined, thrashing your head back and forth against the mattress, you laced your hands with one of his on your thigh, the other threading itself through his hair, still damp from his shower, as you gripped onto the strands for support. He headed your words, rolling his warm tongue over your clit as he drew shapes and words onto the bud, loving the way your back arched and the muscles of your thighs tensed under his hands.

He groaned into your wetness when you started rolling your hips against his face, moaning 'mhm''s into your cunt at his approval. He knew you were getting close when you started holding your breath, your moans pausing for a period of time before a larger one echoed throughout the room, another telltale sign being the way your thighs started to shake. "B-baby I'm gonna cum- 'ur gonna make me cum-" You whimpered, squeezing his hand in yours as he rapidly brought you to your high.

The man between your legs pinched his eyebrows together while he watched you fall apart on his tongue. He Humped his hips against the bed he felt himself feel dizzy watching your eyes roll back in your head as you repeated his name like a mantra. He felt his own orgasm crash over him as well, right when you gripped your nails into his hair and started riding out your own.

He moaned loudly into your cunt, sending delicious vibrations through your pussy as he worked you through the shocks of your orgasm. Toji's eyes were rolling back in his head as he felt rope after rope be realized into his pants, firmly pressing his hips into the bed for as much relief as possible as he shook his head against your wetness, letting you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm out on his tongue. "Fuck-" You heaved, releasing your grip on his hair you pulled is back to push your own out of your face, blinking away the fuzziness your orgasm created in your eyes.

Toji left one more kiss against your oversensitive clit before pulling away and raising his body to sit back on his heels, your thighs now slung over his more muscular ones. Your half-lidded eyes dropped to his crotch, noticing the twitching from under his sweats as a dark grey spot had formed right where his cock was. "Toji, did you-" You started, raising your eyes back up to meet his and blushing at the sight.

Toji was breathing heavily, his jaw dropped in a small o as his eyes flicked between your own, and the mess he made between your thighs. That same mess was coating the entire bottom half of his face, some on his nose and upper cheeks from how sloppily he had been eating you out. "Didn't know you liked eating my pussy that much." You smiled at him, wrapping the naked bottom half of your body around his hips as he leaned into you, placing his strong forearms by the sides of your head.

He leaned down to the crook of your neck and started leaving slow, teasing kisses against the skin, making you gasp softly. "Has there ever been a time we fucked that I didn't eat you out first?" He asked, his hot breath tickling your neck as he used his hand to tip your chin toward the ceiling to give himself more room. "Even when we have five minutes to get our shit done," kiss "I still eat your cunt out first don't I?" His deep voice vibrates into your skin, making you moan at his words.

"Yes, you- you do-" You respond, letting him spoil you with his heavy neck kisses. "I love makin' you feel good. Makes me so fuckin' hard to see you squirmin' like that cos of me." He continues, shallowly humping his semi-hard on against your naked cunt as he speaks. "Every time I feel you cum on my fingers before I fuck you." A bite could be felt on your neck, pulling the skin towards him before he let it drop back into place, "Makes me feel like I'm goin' fuckin' crazy." You whimper, grinding your hips into his as you meet his slow thrusts.

"Love hearin' you too," You giggle when he kisses a ticklish spot. "Okay I get it, you're in love with me~" You tease, running your hands through his air as he sucks purple bruises into your neck. "It's just that though." He says, pulling his head away to look at you directly. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

You've never seen the expression that was currently lying across Toji Fushiguro's features right now, it didn't look wrong; just unusual, and you think you could get used to it. He looked so bashful, almost pouting as he blushed down at you; he looked so soft. He leaned down for a kiss slowly, the two of you looking between your lips and eyes before-

*ring ring ring* ..... *ring ring ring .....

Toji dropped his head back into your neck defeatedly with a sigh, he almost forgot what was happening right now, you had that effect on him. You laughed at his reaction, feeling him leave weak kisses against your shoulder as you reached over to the nightstand and grabbed your phone, sliding the green button across the screen as you held it up to your ear.

"Hello?" You spoke into the receiver, wincing when the grating voice of Toji's assistant screamed through the phone. "I'm here, tell me why Toji's car is outside your house right now?! Are you with him?! Why did you not tell anyone!!" She yelled, Even from Toji's place on the opposite side of your neck, he could still hear her words loud and clear. "He got here not too long ago, and wanted to explain everything to me." You answered, running your hands through his hair absentmindedly as you spoke.

"Explain?! Explain what?? Why he leaked a fucking sex tape on a major social media sight, ON HIS PUBLIC ACCOUNT??" She yelled. You had to admit, her rage on your behalf felt nice, you always did like her, but you couldn't help but giggle at her words. After a brief back-and-forth explaining the situation to her, she sighed, and you heard her car start up again in the background. "Next time Toji goes MIA and the entire team is going batshit trying to find him, please at least let someone know." She sighed, feeling a headache come on.

Toji snatched the phone from your hand and pressed it against his ear. "We were a little busy." He said, rendering her completely speechless for a couple beats. You made sure to smack him upside the head, wrangling the phone back from him you muttered out a quick 'sorry' before letting her process Toji's words some more. "I don't want to know what that means and don't tell me. I don't wanna be liable for any of this shit, I don't know anything." She deadpanned, making you laugh into the receiver.

"Oh, so this is funny to y-" Another loud sigh could be heard from miles away from the intensity of it leaving her lips, "The two of you meet the team at Toji's in ten, hanging up now." She said before the dial tone blared through your phone. You turned your phone off, your body going limp against the sheets as you were brutally forced back into reality. If you had it your way you would stay in this bed forever, embraced in Toji's arms as the two of you lived your whole life out in this one room.

With a groan, he begrudgingly rolled himself off of you, walking over to your desk he grabbed your purse and turned back around to watch you sling your legs off the side of the bed and start sliding on your pants; the expression on your face was distant. Toji placed your bag on the mattress before he slotted himself between your legs and held your hands in his face, making you look at him. "It's going to be okay." He said, nodding his head. You shut your eyes, feeling the nausea start to creep back over you, Toji's words aided in keeping most of it down.

"Fuck, I don't wanna go" You said, leaning your heavy head into the side of his palm. He wasn't used to seeing you so soft, but it pulled all the right strings in his heart. He knew this was an absolutely horrid situation, but he couldn't help but want to engrain this exact moment into his brain forever. "It'll be alright, well get through this together." He reassured. You cracked your eyes open and stared at him blankly, pouting your lip at him.

"I meant I didn't wanna be seen with you and that very obvious cum stain on your pants, but that part too--sure, we'll figure this out." You said, forcing back a smile. Toji licked his teeth before the warmth of his hands were gone, and he walked over to where you kept your pants in your closet, you laughed as his figure disapeared into the open walk in closet, his wet pants and boxers being comedically thrown out of the room as he found something suitable to put on instead.

He walked out in a pair of your plaid pajama pants, that were about a foot and a half too short on him. "You know what, I'm glad your sex tape got leaked." He said, placing his hands on his hips as he looked at you all too seriously for the silly outfit he was adorned in. You covered your mouth as you burst into a fit of laughter, the scene made Toji internally sigh in relief, he knew you were trying to play tough to protect yourself from all those scary emotions, so he was glad to see you genuinely smile tonight.

"Let's go big boy." You said, throwing your bad over your shoulder and swiping your phone from the desk as you headed for the entrance of your bedroom. Toji followed hot on your heels, bumping into you when you stopped in your tracks and turned your head over your shoulder. "I think I'm falling in love with you too." You spoke into the quiet air, welcoming the feeling of Toji's warm hand rubbing on your arm before you trekked forward and made your way out the door to Toji's penthouse to meet the team.

Bonus scene:

You and Toji walk into his main room, every member of Toji's team sitting in his living room already as the chatter bustles loudly, computer keyboard clicking resonating through the room, men yelling at poor representatives on phones mixing with the conversation.

The room goes completely silent as soon as one of them looks your way, the rest of their eyes following; you swear a pin dropping could be heard.

They took in your states, Toji, his hair slightly wavy, slightly straight, sticking in every direction. The pants he wore bursting at the seams of the thighs as the ankle of the pant rested bellow his knee. You, adorned in black leggings and some band T-shirt, two different colored and different length socks hugged your ankles, your entire body wrapped in a snug looking grey robe- and of course, the dark purple hickeys that scattered across the expanse of your neck.

Toji raised an eyebrow, his lip curling upwards as his deep voice spoke. "Somethin' on my face?"

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bluetimeombre · 9 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e

Deadpool and Wolverine but your lady pool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is a complete self insert with just everything I was thinking about during the movie and since then I’ve watched it three times. It gets better every time. Snippets of the movie, will probably do a part two. SPOILERS!]

part two

Warning/disclaimer: femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, sexual language, offensive language, just being a whore the man, cursing, repeat daddy issues, never proof-read.

After digging up Logan and expecting to find a shirtless and oiled-up Hugh Jackman, you were a little more than disappointed to find the bones and metal. 'Damn it! Shit! Fuck! They Les Mis'd him!'

Eventually, you settled down next to the remains, against the same log that had impaled him. 'That was weird,' you chuckled. 'I'm much calmer now. Look, I'm not a woman in stem but you seem incredibly dead to me. Oh, you sexy lump of bones and metal. I would have let you slide them into me any day.'

'But it's good to see you,' you pat his knee. 'I gotta be honest, I've always wanted to ride you, Logan. Oh, whoops, I meant with you. Ha! Who am I kidding, no I didn't. Just you and me, getting into it. And I mean into it. Every style. Doggy. Sixty-nine. On the kitchen counter to the bathroom. Till my back broke. Yea, we'd have been good together.' You ranted, fantasies flying across your mind too quick to focus on one.

With your red-gloved hand, you jerk the chin. 'G'day mate, there's nothing that'll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of Marvel cash. Ha- I hear you, Hugh. But no, no, no, no you had to go and get all noble and die for real. I could really use your help right now. And a massage. Your big manly hands just rubbing all over me-'

Just as you were about to go into further detail about what you want him to do to you, the sound of portals opening and heavy boots stomping closer alerted you.

Quickly, you pulled the skeleton down on top of you.

'There are two hundred and six bones in the body. Two hundred and seven if i'm watching Van Helsing.'

Que the fucking montage.

You have a mission. Find a Logan to take back with you. First up you end up in a bar, catching an axe as it was thrown at you. 'Logan! I'm gonna need you to come with me.'

The Logan sitting at the bar slowly turned to you. 'Who's asking? ' He slipped from the bar stool to reveal a 5'3 Logan.

You coo. 'Well, who's this little ankle biter. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes you did, comic-accurate short king. Such a cute little Wolvie.'

The little guy started stalking toward you.

'Que the fucking montage.'

You found a Wolverine for the seventies, or eighties, something close enough to that, one hand missing. 'Oh yea, sexy, you have anchor being written all over you.'

You found patch Logan. 'Oh hello, Patch. Should've worn my white suit.'

You found another old man Logan, sitting solemnly on his front porch. 'Howdy! Oh, I see, you're the daddy issues one. Good to see god has answered my prayers. So soldier, do I need to be a bad girl so you put me over your knee, daddy?'

Another was tied to a cross with red bloody skulls acting as a floor.

One was dressed in a tight yellow and brown suit, walking through the woods. 'Hubba hubba. Classic! Now, you fought the Hulk in this suit, right?' as he snicked his claws out, the green of the beast reflected from behind you. 'I am Marvel Jesus you dull creature and I will not be-'

One, your favourite, was working on a bike in a tight white vest and dark pants. You drooled. 'That's the whole goddamn package right there. You know from behind you look a bit- holy Shit!' he turned, and everything about him was Wolverine. Except for the fact he was Henry fucking Cavil. 'The Cavalry has arrived. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Can I say, sir, sorry, daddy- on behalf of all of humanity, this just feels right! We will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street!'

He took the cigar from his mouth, stalking to you. You had never been so aroused in your life. 'You were just leaving'

Giggling and twirling your hair, you hold a hand out, ghosting over his chest. 'Can I just, one- one touch. Oh my god! You're like Superman or something.'

He punched you right into the Logan you needed. Thank you Cavil.

'You two gonna fuck or fight?' asked the bartender. 'Both if i'm lucky,' you said.'

'Oh look at those sexy little jammies, that only took twenty fucking years!'

The trash heap was the last place you wanted to end up, but when you woke to Logan looming over you, a snarl on his face, you sighed in relief.

'Well, hello sexiest man alive, 2008. Wanna give me a hand? Or head?'

He sniked his claws out.

'Kinky! That's new for Disney!'

He dug his claws into your ribs and dragged you up with them. 'Where the fuck are we?'

'I dunno, but it looks a bit mad maxxy to me. But that would be IP infringement right?'

'Fucking jokes,' Logan uttered. He threw you over his leg, your back breaking.

'Till my back breaks, Wolvie!' you yelled out, quickly rolling yourself back up and shaking it off. 'Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a big fan. How about we strip off our suits, take a tumble in the sand, get to know one another you know. Personally, I'm more of a cowgirl fan but I'm willing to do whatever you want baby.'

'You're unbelievable,' he grumbled. It was still sexy. He turned his back to you.

'Oh, I see, is that what you did when your world went to shit!'

He paused, his head slowly turning to you. 'Say again, bub?'

'Oh, I am so horny right now.'

The two of you engaged in a fight, and not the sexy stradling fight that would happen later, but the guns firing, swords slashing kind of fight. that was only interrupted by a familiar voice.

The only other voice that could have you dropping your panties as quick as Wolverine. He was hooded, hidden, but you knew him from your sex dreams.

'Dear god almighty, it's him.'

'Who?' growled Logan.

'Don't be jealous baby, I have two holes for a reason. Don't worry gorgeous, you're gonna encounter some delicate language, a smidge of ass play but we've been prohibited from using cocaine, at least on page.'

He raised a hand. 'They're coming.'

'Who's they?'

The three of you watch cars and trucks drive through the waste, keeping you trapped. There were familiar faces, Pyro, Toad. And Sabertooth.

The mysterious figure jumped down and mastered the superhero landing that had you clapping your hands and jumping up and down.

'Oh my god! Oh my god!' you held onto Logan's shoulder as you jumped while he just glared at you.

'I've got this,' the man takes down his hood, showing the beautiful, hot, strong, handsome, hubba-hubba worthy, Chris Evans.

'Oh yes, you do sexiest man alive, 2022!' you cheer.

'Stay close,' Chris- or Steve- called back to you.

You stalk over to him. 'Aye aye, Captain.' you wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers trailing over his abs. He removes you and you groan, sulking. You walk back to Wolverine and jump onto the side of his hip.

Instinctively he holds your ass which makes you giddy before he realises his mistake and drops you.

'You're not gonna love what happens next,' shouted the captain.

Your jaw dropped from behind the mask. 'Holy shit, omg! No way, he's gonna say it! He's gonna say it!' you flick one of your swords that was still poking out of Wolverine's chest. 'Avengers-'

'Flame on!' Steve- no, Johnny- yelled and took to the skies in a ball of fire.

It was sort of stupid in hind sight as Pyro lifted a hand and extinguished him, causing him to fall from the skies and go crotch first into a billboard.

'No!' you screamed, rushing to him and rolling onto his back to get a look at him. 'No, no baby, stay with me. Let me take a look!' you tried to pull down his pants but Logan literally pulled you off him.

You were tied up with Wolverine on the front side of you and Johnny on the back. When you woke, you giggled. 'Woah, just like my dreams.'

Johnny woke to, lifting his head from your shoulder. 'How long was I out?'

You smirk under the mask, looking back to him. 'Not all of you was asleep, say Cap, is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

'Is that Chuck? Hey Chuck, over here! Hope it's you young, god, we got James Macovy in this?' you yelled as a wheelchair rolled out as you entered the thing that was apparently large Paul Rudd.

'Cassandra Nova. Charles's twin,' the villain introduced herself.

'Holy shit,' said Logan.

'How was anal birth?' you asked.

Cassandra smirked. 'You two are cute. I have a good feeling about this.'

'Right!' you cheered. 'Just wait till this ends, the smut is off the charts!'

She took the chain from around the two of you but you wrapped yourself around Logan's arm, he only grunted at you. He only pushed you off when you started to go off and off about what Johnny said about Cassandra. 'People think i'm a shit talker but this guy-' you chef's kiss. 'Next level!'

Cassandra, with a flick of her hand, shed the skin from him as he fell in a heap of bones and blood and skin,

You cried out, holding onto Logan for dear life. 'My favourite Chris!'

'You silly little bitch, you just got him fucking killed!' yelled Logan.

'Fine, spank me then! P.S. Do you know what he was doing to the budget!'

You were brought to Ultimatum with Cassadra, Oliath or the other British villain, but all you wanted was to save your world, bang Wolvy and go home.

'I didn't want it to come to this, either you help us or my boyfriend here is gonna perform the whole of Greatest Showman as a one-man show,' you warn.

'I'm not her boyfriend,' Logan grumbled.

Cassandra went on a trauma dump that had you groaning. 'Couldn't you just turn into accomplishment like the rest of us?'

But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together.'

'Sorry lady, he's taken!'

'Not for long,' Cassandra smirked and as Logan attacked, she sent him in the ground and away from you. You only whined at his disappearance, a whine that turned into a groan when Cassandra's fingers entered you in the worst way possible. Through your head.

'What can I see here?' she asked. Cassandra gasped. 'Oh, you are a whore.'

Oh yes, she saw the million filthy things you wanted to do to Logan.

The two of you made it out and to the diner where Logan was intent on finding food and taking rubbing alcohol shots. When he sat across from you, chucking a tin of spam at you, you pulled of your mask.

Logan stilled, looking at you with finally something a little different than anger.

'What?' you asked.

'I thought you'd be ugly under there.'

'No- no, that's the Deadpool. I'm better, and a self-insert.'

The two of you took to walking through the rather nicer side of the waste. You had his hand in yours, swinging it happily like you were a couple before he threatened to chop your hand off.

'You said Logan was a hero, what happened?' he asked.

'You died. Technically you were chest fucked by a tree, but really you just ran out of batteries trying to save this girl- a kid really. Always wanted a man who's good with kids. The shit heels who grew her in a lab called her x-23, but she was just a kid. A smaller, cute and mean version of you. Yep, you saved her, very hero, very demure.'

The two of you were interrupted when a bark sounded over the hill and the BEST DOG EVER ran out to you, ears flapping in the wind, tongue out as it always was. The little boots. The collar. It was Dogpool.

You threw off your mask and picked her up, cuddling her close. 'She's coming with us.'

'No she's not!' he argued.

'Yes, she is!'

'No!'

You pulled out your puppy dog eyes and lifted the dog to your face and slowly the resolve in his face slipped.

'Sorry!' another man ran out, chasing after the dog.

'Fucking shit bag!' you cursed.

It was another dead pool, a good-looking one with long hair.

'What's Ryan Reynolds actually doing here, I thought I replaced him?' you said.

'In here everyone calls me Nicepool.'

'Can we have your dog?' you asked immediately.

He laughed. 'over my dead body!'

You nod, thinking about it but Logan holds out his arm before you can even move.

Whatever Nicepool was saying was you didn't care as you cooed and hugged the dog closer and Logan watched.

Fuck, he was paying attention to you.

'Why are you so nice?' you asked eventually.

'It costs nothing to be kind,' he said.

'Shutting the fuck up is also free,' said Logan.

You bite your lip in his direction. 'God I am so attracted to you right now. This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he's let himself go since the divorce.'

Finally, the Nicepool took you to his ride to get you and Logan and the dog to the borderlands.

It was a honda fucking odyssey.

Logan wasn't willing to listen to your complaints. 'Get in the fucking car.'

'Make me, Daddy,' you said.

He took one step closer to you and you backed away with the dog. 'No, we're running away!'

Logan forced her from your arms and handed him back to the Nicepool.

'The corn was to dense girl!' you called after her, pouting.

Logan shoves you into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel.

You pull of your mask, hair falling around you like you were in an advert. 'So, what shall we do to pass the time...'

Honda Odyssey coming soon, that my friends, is called edging.

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #ladypool #dogpool #ryan reynolds #hugh jackman #wolverine #x men #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #chris evans #captain america

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monimccoythings · 4 months ago

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Dad Bod

I'm planning to write a few domestic short scenes of Old man Logan and his little family. Been craving for some domestic settings and head canons. I'm trying to make the reader as gender neutral and POC friendly as possible, so everyone can enjoy these little snippets.

Logan has put on a bit more weight in his later years. It's enough to be noticeable, domestic life fits him like a glove. A life without fighting and filled with homemade meals, has turned a lone wolf into a family man. And that kind of life always has some sort of side effects.

He would never admit it out loud, but he feels a bit of shame when he looks at himself in the mirror, his chiseled pecs and well defined abs have been replaced with a barrelled chest and a belly that strains against his belt. It was another reminder that he was way past his prime. And old useless man, too broken and too good for nothing.

If only he could get through his thick adamantium skull that you would love him in any form and shape. Doesn't matter what he looks like, he is still a Greek God to you, the hottest man you have ever met.

He drove you wild when he was buff, but now that he has a dad bod, he makes you straight up feral. Just feeling his weight and his body pressing against you when he pounds at you from behind, or just sitting on top to ride him were honestly a blessing from heaven.

You make sure to remind him every time, not with words, because you know he won't fully believe you, but with actions. The way you worship his body, kissing, sucking, caressing it with a reverence more fitting of a masterpiece. What could you say, he was a work of art.

You marvel in the softness of his body, how cushiony and warm he is; in the raw strength cursing through his big arms when he lifts you effortlessly like you weigh nothing.

He's gorgeous, he is beautiful, he is your Logan and you wouldn't have him any other way.

#wolverine x reader #old man logan x reader #james logan howlett x reader #james howlett x reader #logan howlett x reader

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stoopakoopa · 7 months ago

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Day 8 - Reunion

Drew out a little snippet from my partner's fic for @mesdelostrescaballeros2024!!

Part of a larger continuity being uploaded on ao3! Read it below ⬇️

Donald pulled up outside the apartment where Panchito was staying and took a deep, fortifying breath. Of course he was excited to see his friend again! Of course he was excited for The Three Caballeros to be once more reunited, even if only for a day. There was just that one catch—he felt bad even calling it a catch, like it was somehow a bad thing that he and Zé had finally professed their love for one another—but it would always be awkward telling Panchito. Surely, the duck thought with an internal groan, things would unavoidably change within the trio.

To make it all worse, José had been away on flight shifts when Panchito arrived in town, and Donald had agreed to only break the news when his new boyfriend had returned. He was a terrible liar about this kind of thing: his tongue got all tied up and his beak chattered when he spoke. How in the hell was he supposed to—?

The Donald Duck Pity Party was cut short as sharp, energetic chatter caught his ear from the street: Panchito was being seen off and heading straight for the car. Donald flung himself toward the back seat, toward the gift José had planned to hand over today, and hastily threw a spare blanket over it. The thick, scratchy wool did a decent job of concealing the obvious shape of a brand new guitar, at least if you didn't pay it mind. They'd give it to him when they were all together. That's how they were supposed to do things. Together.

Panchito appeared, waving goodbye to someone before bounding out of the apartment complex. His face lit up when he saw Donald, and before Donald could even get a word out, Panchito had leapt into the front seat, pulling him into a bear hug. His wide sombrero wobbled dangerously, but he didn't seem to care.

"¡Ay caramba, amigo! What took you so long to get here?" Panchito exclaimed, yanking Donald into his arms despite protest from his seatbelt, all to kiss Donald's cheek with his usual enthusiasm.

"'Ey, Pancho! How you doin' amigo?" The duck choked out, finding it a little easier to act natural amid the strangulation.

Panchito released Donald to pinch his cheek playfully. "Better with you here! I've been working on that new song I told you about last night! What about you? What have you been up to all day?"

"I'm doin' swell! And nothing much! Been taking 'er easy today." He lied, and not well—he was already talking too much. "Excited, though! Not every day I get to hang out with my two best pals!" Donald pulled away from Panchito's hold in order to return his attention to driving, feeling too awkward to linger in the warm hold, however much he usually would.

The charro clicked the seatbelt into place and leaned back in his seat, apparently unfazed by the duck's haste. "Ay güey, I'm just hyped that we are finally getting together again for a change. So, what are we doing this time? Are we gonna hit up the club so hard we get kicked out again? Or maybe reopen the Magical Mythical Monster Petting Zoo from Scrooge's secret vault? Or how about we raid the Anvilania embassy and get the ambassador drunk again? You know she still calls me."

Donald nodded, absolutely not absorbing anything the rooster was clucking about in favor of focusing on the road. He was happy, of course; his friend's exuberance was infectious to say the least. It had indeed been too long since they got to hang out like this as a group… but a part of him still felt tense. He chanced another glance at the vaquero—oblivious, humming merrily, a long leg resting against the door as he propped up his foot on his knee and took up what little space his seat offered. He wished he could feel so carefree.

When they arrived at the little airport, Panchito's excitement was hard to miss. Before the car could even finish pulling up to the 15-minute zone, he'd unbuckled and bolted out of the car window, running ahead towards the tarmac and calling out for Zé at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah, don't wait up or nothing!" Donald called after him with a roll of his eyes. Crazy bird, he hadn't even put the car into park yet! The lighthearted atmosphere Panchito had cultivated was at war with the impulse to complain bubbling inside him because he wanted see Zé first, to get a chance to hold his boyfriend first before they had to act respectably platonic in front of their none the wiser companion. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, just…

One hug, one second to let the weight of the week melt off was all he wanted. But that wasn't happening. Not yet. Instead, he'd have to wait and keep playing the part.

"Great," he muttered, jerking on the car's parking brake. "Just act natural. Simple."

The airport, while always abuzz with people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe, was relatively less hectic on a weekday like this, and José was all the more grateful for it. Deplaning the small jet from Panama was fairly routine and done quickly, leaving Zé with a little free time before he met up with his friends. He brought with him his single suitcase, loaded with more clothes than his usual amount, plus some souvenirs from Brazil and the several other countries he had stopped in during the work week. There were things for the kids back at the manor, plus a homemade gaúcho style poncho pala made by his vovó for Della (whom the old bird had assumed was still freezing from her time on the Moon). Strapped to the outside of the suitcase (because it could not fit) and wrapped in cloth was José's gift to Donald, a new hammock for his houseboat. He hoped he would like it.

Walking to the exit, Zé attempted to steal himself for the reunion to come. Not so much for seeing Donald, though his blood ran quick with excitement for him to be sure. But Panchito, whom he had not seen since they met for that ill-fated holiday to Bahia that never came to fruition. They had kept in constant contact even after their break up, though it caused pain on both sides. They had been determined to preserve their eternal friendship even in the face of romantic disappointment. And though it took some years for Zé to be able to look the rooster in the face without the unbearable ache in his chest urging him to take it all back and try again, he never wanted to lose sight of what drew him and the other two Caballeros together in the first place. They were his family, no matter what happened.

Even when I act like a stupid teenager and run crying to my ex-boyfriend about my hopeless crush, which turned out to be not so hopeless after all because we're together now and— Merda!

Zé closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. It was very good that he had this spare moment to compose himself as he entered the airport proper.

The distant sound of a familiar crow cut through the din of the crowd, stopping Zé in his tracks. That voice—there was no mistaking it. And like the call to sunrise, it made his heart want to leap into the sky. Spotting a tall flash of red, and a hat that he insisted was too big for his head, standing tall amongst the crowd, Zé dropped his suitcase and his umbrella and ran forward like his tail was on fire. Before he even had time to think about it, he was launching himself into Panchito's arms. The rooster caught him instantly, just like old times.

"¡¡AAAAAAJAJAJAJAJA!!" Panchito's triumphant grito echoed across the terminal. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his wide grin spoke volumes. Zé could feel the emotion radiating from him—Panchito had missed him more than words could ever say, that much was clear. His whole body seemed to hum with excitement.

"José!! Mi cielo!" Panchito crowed, his voice overflowing with affection as he slowly, reluctantly, released the green parrot.

Zé smiled warmly, returning the sentiment. "It is so good to see you, docinho!" His tone was as light and affectionate as ever. "It has been too long!"

"No manches, pendejo, it's only been a few months!" Panchito guffawed, his eyes sparkling with unfiltered happiness. His grin stretched wide as he shook his head in disbelief, the warmth in his expression unmistakable. The man was an open book, his emotions always worn on his sleeve.

The malandro chuckled softly, adjusting his hat. "Well, yes, but it has been twice as long since the three of us have been—" He stopped, scanning the area. "Espere, onde está o Donald?"

Panchito's expression shifted briefly—a flicker of realization, maybe impatience. He glanced back toward the car, where Zé knew Donald must still be catching up. The vaquero's elation had clearly driven him to rush ahead, leaving their other friend behind. Zé could almost feel the mixture of emotions brewing under Panchito's playful exterior, a familiar tug of longing buried in the joy of reunion.

But Zé knew better than to bring that up. He simply smiled again, his voice calm, teasing. "Always in a rush, eh mano?"

"Life is too short to sit still," the rooster replied assuredly, and his hand which still rested on his waist in a half hug pulled him in for just an instant, a punctuation to the point.

"Hey, ya found 'im! Over here, guys!!!!" a distinctive voice cut through the busy hum of the arrival hall and Zé immediately turned towards the sound, his heart immediately catapulting into the stratosphere.

"DONAL'!" he and Panchito shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the platform. The moment the malandro caught sight of Donald looking flustered and determined as ever as he weaved through the crowd, all the excitement, the nerves, the longing came rushing back to him. He broke from Panchito's hold to sprint to him with ever increasing urgency, his heart pounding not from exertion but from sheer jubilation.

Quickly he closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around the sailor and pulling him into a tight embrace. He fit into his arms perfectly, and for a moment he didn't want to let go. Donald absorbed the impact with ease and let Zé down safely, the rest of the world seeming to melt away in an instant. Zé quickly buried his face into Donald's shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his lover's arms around him. There was relief, adoration, and an overwhelming sense of peace. Even for just a fleeting moment, everything felt right—like he was where he belonged.

"Meu querido..." Zé whispered softly, just for Donald, though he didn't linger on the words. He knew this interlude was fleeting.

Sure enough, as if sensing their private moment was up, Donald's voice broke through their quiet intimacy. "Panchito...?" Donald called, one arm still wrapped around Zé as he extended the other towards their rambunctious rooster to include him.

Zé was too distracted with cuddling up to his sailor's side to register the gleam in Panchito's eye, at first. As it was, it was only the loud, triumphant yell that signaled their impending doom, and the parrot felt he had little choice but to make sure he didn't endure it alone, his arm holding his duck in place.

"No, wait—!" Donald started, but it was too late.

Panchito came down hard from where he had launched himself into the air like a luchador delivering his finishing move. Elbow extended, he crashed into the two of them with the energy of a firecracker bursting on impact. Donald let out a choked WAK! of surprise, his arms flailing as he was knocked clean off balance. Zé, caught in the middle of it all, simply accepted his fate with a laugh, not even trying to brace for the collision.

They tumbled down in a heap of feathers, beaks, and limbs, Zé wedged between his two best friends, both of them piled on top of Donald, who lay sprawled at the bottom. He could feel Donald wheezing beneath him, dazed from the sudden assault, while Panchito—of course—was perched victoriously at the top of the pile, leaning on one elbow like he owned the world.

"Órale! ¿Que te pasa? You were supposed to catch me!" Panchito chortled, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he flashed a wide, playful grin down at the both of them. "I could have gotten hurt!"

"God forbid…" Donald rasped weakly.

Zé couldn't help but chuckle, even as he lay squashed in the middle. Completely unconcerned by the chaos, he wiggled into a more comfortable position between them, his head resting against Donald's back. He could feel the frantic beat of his partner's heart beneath his cheek, could hear the shallow breaths as Donald tried to recover. There was no tension, no frustration. Just pure, unbridled affection. Even in moments like this—especially in moments like this—Zé felt nothing but love for the both of them.

This was how it had always been with the three of them. Chaos and laughter, roughhousing and tenderness, all tangled together in one messy, beautiful friendship.

"Well, caras," Zé sighed contentedly, "it is good to be back where I belong."

"Where, with all of ya on top of me?" the sailor beneath him groaned, barely able to get out a full breath with all the pressure bearing down on him.

Don't tempt me, the malandro thought before immediately shelving it for later.

#mesdelostrescaballeros2024 #donze #three gay caballeros #donald duck #ze carioca #panchito pistoles #omg it's so bonkers late

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gouraminnow · 5 months ago

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I love the way you write yandere Shanks! If it’s not too much trouble, could you please make more headcanons, a snippet, or whatever you feel like writing? The way you write Shanks is so captivating, I keep rereading everything you wrote about him! No pressure btw!! Even if you decide not to write anything, I still appreciate the good read! Thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you, this is really sweet! He's... not a character I typically go for, tbh but I'm glad I can write him okay. Previous writings with him were with a civillian reader, so here's an attempt at him scooping up a reader who isn't. :)

Reader is the first mate of an unnamed crew here. Details are vague.

Warnings: Injured reader(not by Shanks), drugging, imminent kidnapping

Damnit.

Damn it all.

You had faith in your captain, you truly did, but anyone could see it was often left to you to pick up his slack. But you were far from the only First Mate with that type of dynamic, so you tried not to let it get to you. Your captain, your friend- like most pirates, was ambitious and determined to make a name not only for himself, but for the rest of you as well.

And though he had the talent to back up his confidence, you all lacked the experience of older crews.

Your beloved Captain did not have what it took to fend off a Marine attack led by an admiral, and now here you were- alone, after dragging yourself into a beachfront cave. It was raining heavily, so any blood you'd left behind you had hopefully been washed away from the dark, rocky shore.

Ugh. Dragging yourself across the rocks did not help how you felt in the slightest. You knew your leg was broken, probably some ribs too. From the sound of your breathing- a raspy, rattling sound, punctuated by painful coughs that brought blood up with them, there was a good chance one of them had punctured one of your lungs. You tried not to think about it, instead focusing on the thunder echoing into the darkened cave, cool stone soothing your aching body. You just hope your diversion worked.

You try to steady your ragged breathing, eyes fluttering shut. You're utterly exhausted, and it's so cold... each wheezing inhale sends bolts of pain through you, arcing out from your chest, down your arms and to the tips of your fingers...

You feel the presence before you hear or see anything- the atmosphere growing heavier and heavier. You grit your teeth, dragging yourself back against the cave wall and into a sitting position with a long, scratchy whine. You think it might be a marine at first, bloodthirsty higher-ups determined to stamp out the small fry, but then a familiar caped silhouette steps in front of the cave entrance.

You suppress a groan. What the hell is Shanks doing here?

You'd met him a couple times before. The first time, it'd been nerve-wracking. None of you knew how the Emperor would react to the presence of your crew- you weren't bothering anyone, just drinking and screwing around on the beach while your chef roasted some sea king. But he'd been friendly, calling out jovially and asking if it was your crew that had the local marine patrol in such disarray. The caution melted from your captain, and he confirmed it to be so, clapping a hand on your shoulder and saying they had you to thank more than anyone else. You had just sighed and rolled your eyes. Partying with a Yonko crew was fun, but you preferred to remain sober. Someone had to keep their head on straight and unfortunately, that was usually you.

He happened to "cross paths" with your crew a couple more times. You'd thought it odd, but hadn't said anything.

His presence here confirmed something was up, to you at least. Despite not having a reason to believe he'd hurt you, your body still tensed as he approached, the slap of his sandals against stone echoing throughout the cave until he came to a stop before you. He crouches, and you hear a pop- probably one of his knees. It earns a snort from you, but the ounce of humor is short lived when that sends you into a coughing fit.

It's hard to make out the details of his expression in the low-light, but you can feel his eyes on you and you think you spot a crease in his brow. When your fit dies down into labored breathing, blood bubbling past your lips, he fishes something out of one of his pockets. Reaching toward your face, you're only just able to suppress your flinch when you feel a cloth gently wipe your face. "... You're a lot worse off than I thought," he murmurs, stuffing the bloodied handkerchief back into his pocket. You manage a scoff.

"... Didn't expect an Admiral," you rasp out truthfully. "M'not... crazy. I knew we weren't ready for that." He hums, quiet for a moment before reaching for something else.

"Your crew got away, because of you," he says, a strange warmth in his voice. There's something akin to a soft popping sound and he hands you something. "Here, this'll help." You reach up to close your fingers around... a flask? You raise it to your face, sniffing. Yeah, that's booze, alright. You raise it to the man before you as a gesture of thanks and take a swig, the pleasant burn cutting through the taste of blood. "Y'know, that's the first time you've accepted a drink from me," he quips as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

"Don't need to be the sensible one if I'm out of commission," you tell him, taking another drink. You feel pleasantly fuzzy already, leave it to Shanks to have the good stuff. "F-fuck. Wouldn't be bad to feel less, either," you confess, offering his flask back. He chuckles, shaking his head and pushing your hand back toward you. You raise a brow, but just shrug, deciding to drink freely.

"I thought as much," he says, watching you intently. It feels strange. You feel strange.

"Would think you'd be a bit stingier with this stuff," you rasp, "but you've tried to get me drinking every time you... 'happen across' us." You wheeze, slumping against the cave wall.

"Aw, is there something wrong with being friendly?" His voice is warm, lilting. You feel fuzzy. "I just like keeping an eye on promising rookies, is all." Your eye twitches. Sure, you're nowhere near his level, but you wouldn't consider yourself nor your crew rookies. "But enough about that. Can you tell me about the damage?"

You sigh, closing your eyes. The pain has faded, just a little. "Leg's broken. Ribs, too. Think one might've... p-punctured a lung." There's movement. You think he nodded, but the way your vision swims it's hard to tell.

"Well, I told Beck and Hongo to follow me if I took too long. Can't imagine tossing you over my shoulder would be very good for you right now, so we'll wait for them to bring a stretcher."

"Mmm." Your brows knit together. You... feel strange. A little warm, yes, but you've realized too late that you're far too hazy for the little you've had to drink. "Shanks," you mumble, flask clattering to the stone floor. A hand tentatively raises to rub your eyes. "W-what the hell, Shanks? What is this? You s-said it'd help..."

He hums, picking up the small vessel. "It will. It's gonna make moving you a lot less miserable. Didn't you just say it wouldn't be bad to feel less..?" You sputter, coughing weakly, the spasms wracking your slumped frame. "Careful now," he chides.

"Sh-shanks, seriously, what the fuck..? Why?" You choke out. He tilts his head. "Woulda just gone. So w-why..."

"You need the rest. Didn't know what condition you'd be in, but I wanted you out for a bit regardless, just in case. This is much kinder than haki, don't you think? I'm just being considerate, here." That playful tone of his is really pissing you off. "I do wish your first drink with me wasn't under these circumstances, but I'm glad you chose the gentle option."

Your eyes well up with frustrated tears, the man before you growing blurrier. "I d-don't under.... ssaand," you slur out pathetically. You cringe when you feel him touch you, his warm, calloused fingers gently wiping your tears away.

A soft sigh, the gentle, inviting sound almost aiding in the clouding of your head. "I'll do us both a favor and rip the bandaid off now," he says, voice firmer despite the gentle, careful way he's touching you. "You're coming with me," he says casually, like it's no big deal. "And this way, nothing has to happen to your crew. They're alive, yes, but they don't know that you are." His hand cups your face, thumb gently rubbing your cheek. You try to jerk away, but only manage a twitch.

No.

No!

You want to scream, to cuss him out, you want to struggle- but all you can manage is something between a choke and a whine. "Sh- sh-anks..." you rasp, tears streaming freely now. Your crew. Your Captain, your best friend..!

"There's no reason to cry, sweetheart," he chides, leaning forward as your eyes flutter shut. A soft kiss pressed against your forehead as everything fades. "You saved them."

#one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere shanks #shanks x reader #he's being kind (drugging them so they don't feel the pain and tellin em whats up immediately. except lying by omission abt the drugs lol)#but he's also being mean (EVERYTHING ELSE)#another one I'm iffy abt but whateverrrr

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babyarmywrites · 1 month ago

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lonely with our love - bang chan

Synopsys: As a rising music producer you land the opportunity of a lifetime, co-producing Stray Kids’ albums alongside Bang Chan. But as your relationship deepens beyond the studio, the harsh realities of fame, distance, and ambition threaten to pull you apart—until a viral song exposes the truth neither of you can ignore.

Genre: angst, with a fluffy end >.<

Song mentioned: Charlotte Cardin - Lonely with Our Love

Word count: 3.1k

Feedback, as always, is appreciated! 🤗

You knew what you signed up for.

You knew from the beginning when you signed your contract with JYP Entertainment and agreed to co-produce the three upcoming albums of Stray Kids. It was a big leap in your career, going from your home studio to a big corporation with the best equipment on the market, a team of ten people behind you, assisting with any of your needs, and 3RACHA, the creative masterminds behind most of SKZ's biggest hits spewing ideas, humming new beats left and right. Truly a dream come true for an underground producer like you. However, nothing could prepare you for what was to come.

Bang Chan walked into your life like any other person you've encountered, there were no fireworks, no sparkly eyes, no instant connection similar to the ways such scenarios are depicted in romance movies. He barged into the meeting room with tired eyes, comfy clothes, and a laptop in hand, knots of cables everywhere, pen drives and hard drives sticking out from every possible outlet, proof of the importance of the device now placed gently on the table surrounded by executives, managers and the newbie, aka you. An uncontrollable chuckle left your lips. You knew the setup all too well, a very similar junction of cables and outsourced storage sitting in front of you.

Brown eyes fell on you upon hearing the sound of your amused giggles, and then they traveled to the table and back to you, his plump lips curling into a kind smile, one that felt genuine and warm, even inviting per se.

"Hi, I'm Chris. It's very nice to meet you, I'm a huge fan," he says, offering his hand for you to shake. Your eyes widen, but you act on instinct, standing up and shaking his hand, returning the polite meeting. It was surprising to hear someone like him being familiar with your work. You've gotten lucky in the past couple of months and you were credited for producing some big hits for both Korean and international artists, but you still had a long way to go, you didn't even consider yourself known around your area, nonetheless by big corporations like JYPE or idols like Bang Chan. "I am looking forward to working with you. I listened to all of the samples you sent us, they are amazing." he gushes and you can't help but feel flustered. He is a smooth talker for sure, but he seems genuine and honest, not the type of person to compliment others just to come off as nice or friendly. You like that about him, even on your first meeting.

The meeting goes smoothly, it's mostly you and Chan talking, spewing ideas left and right about the sound and feel of the new album, the managers and staff present only intervene to settle some deadlines and key points that should be met by the upcoming project. As soon as the formal meeting is concluded, Chan takes you to their studio to show you around, after all, it's going to become your workplace for a while. You meet Changbin and Han there, the former being more polite and a little less talkative, the latter spewing jokes and bouncing around in excitement like a Duracell bunny. They let you take a seat and play around with the equipment in the studio, trying to get familiar with it in a short time, which doesn't prove to be too difficult with the help of the three boys.

The following weeks you are basically living in the studio space, working on perfecting samples, adding and removing elements, Stray Kids walking in and out to record adlibs and verses, Han and Changbin bombarding your phone with audio snippets and singing guides, you sending them nearly finished instrumentals, they come in for a few hours to add or change up things, but they never stay too long. The only one that's constantly there is Chris. As time passes, you get to know him more and more, he's slowly opening up to you, telling you stories from his trainee days, about his time with the kids, his family, and his beloved pet Berry. You quickly find out that the best conversations happen after a long day being cooped up in a small recording studio with dim lighting and over half-empty takeout containers. It's not hard to fall for Bang Chan. He's caring, attentive, funny, and genuine. His creative process is fascinating, his devotion to his work and the group he crafted and curated at merely 20 years old is respectable, something you've never seen in the people you've had the fortune to work with before. However, he's also unapproachable, somewhat closed off, and unaccepting of any kind of help. He often brings himself down, scrapping or deleting entire songs he worked on for days without a second thought, ones you were sure would become hits. After months of working together and spending most of your days with each other, he finally cracks, he opens up. He tells you about his trainee days, how he witnessed people coming into his life just to walk out the same way, him always being the one that's left behind. How that period in his youth scarred him for life. But he continues on with a smile, reminiscing how he met his bandmates, his current best friends, his brothers, and how he hoped they could stay. He explains how he had JYPE name their fanbase STAY hoping that the support they provide would remain with them forever so that he'll never feel alone again.

And to his surprise, your reaction is a huge smile. No pity, no empty promises that you'll stay and you'll be available for him anytime like others do when he talks about his deepest fears. "It wouldn't be worth it if it wasn't this hard, Chris, after all, there wouldn't be starlight if it didn't get dark, would it?" you say with a reassuring pat on his shoulder and for a lyricist like Chan, your words hit hard. He finds himself reciting them whenever he's feeling down or he gets overwhelmed. That makes him realize how deeply in love he is with you.

Your love blossoms along with the sakura. It's one beautiful spring day when Chan feels particularly drenched, exhausted, and sleep-deprived, but he finds the strength within himself to walk to the studio after a full day of dance rehearsal, his body aching and his mind fuzzy, but he is determined to see you. You're hunched up on the sofa, the only source of light coming from the screen of your computer, the sight causing a faint smile to appear on his lips. Your eyes light up upon seeing him enter, but they falter as soon as they land on his exhausted face.

"Why are you here Chan?! It's late and you're exhausted, just go home and rest, you definitely need it." you say, concern overtaking your previously calm and collected aura and you don't hesitate to throw your laptop on the couch, standing up to try and turn him around, sending him home by force. He just chuckles, there's an evident power difference between you two and he doesn't even move an inch despite your best effort. You don't quite catch it in the dim lighting of the studio, but his eyes sparkle with a kind of adoration that only shows for the most important people in his life, ones he keeps close to his heart. How could you not be one of them? He's never met someone so selfless as you, who prioritizes others' comfort and well-being over theirs without a second thought. Everything about you screams comfort and familiarity to Chris, there are no expectations, high standards, or crazy idol bullshit. Around you, he's the kid with big dreams who loves music, hanging around with his friends, goofing around the studio, and that lifts an enormous weight off his shoulders. The way you look out for him and ensure he stays hydrated, well-fed, and well-rested reminds him of the warmest of love. People tend to forget about his needs, he's the one to usually tend to others, and he always seems cool and collected, hence why his well-being is often overlooked. But never by you.

Up until this moment, he held back. He didn't make a move, he tried to dismiss the feelings that crept up on him as autumn turned to winter and winter to spring. However, as nature blossomed and boomed in fresh color, he got the inspiration he desperately needed to allow himself to fall for once, to pass control over him into someone else's hands. He stands in front of you, the barely-there distance suddenly more annoying than ever, both your hands on his shoulders as you try to turn him around and kick him out of the studio that has his name on it, and he acts out of instinct. He places both his hands on your hips, pulling you close to his body with ease and a surprised yelp leaves your lips as you basically collapse with his muscular chest. You look up into his eyes and you observe the mischief, the smile lines that multiply in the corners of his almond-shaped orbs. As the shock from his sudden action disappears from your face your expression molds into one of calmness and adoration, he leans in closer, without breaking eye contact until the last second before your lips meet.

Everything seems to fall into place at that moment. It feels liberating like a lingering tension has disappeared and the world around you settled into calmness, stopping time, leaving the two alone in your own little capsule. Nothing could beat the feeling of a kiss like that, one you're yearning for over months, without even realizing it.

From that point on, everything goes easily. Chan asks you out on multiple dates, which are magical, every single one of them, and he asks you officially to be his girlfriend one night when you're sitting outside on his balcony with a bottle of wine talking about everything and nothing. You gladly say yes, because in your mind nothing can beat the feeling of being with someone as amazing as Chris. He makes every effort to spend every spare moment he has with you, which is not hard while you work in the same building. The first few months of your relationship go without any issues, because they're constantly in Seoul, working on their next comeback. He has a little bit more free time, with fewer schedules and more opportunities to spend hours on end in the studio or at home hanging out with you. You can't sugarcoat this honeymoon.

You learn fairly quickly that his perfectionist tendencies are present not only in his professional life but his personal one as well. Christopher Bahng is not just the perfect leader, the perfect idol, but the perfect boyfriend as well. He goes out of his way to protect you, both physically and mentally, he remembers all the small things you ever mentioned to him, he knows how you take your coffee or what makes you uncomfortable, he ensures to have an extra jacket or hoodie for you because you tend to be cold, he treats you like his number one priority. It's hard not to forget what really comes to him first though: his job.

As soon as the weather turns grey and cold again, and comeback season rolls around while the leaves turn brown and nature goes to sleep, the gap between the two of you grows wide, which was bound to happen over time. You start living your life in parallel: you're at the JYP building during the day, while they run around from one interview to another, and by the time you go home to sleep Chan shows up at the studio to work on tracks for future projects. You start having different natures, different nights, you'll have yours and he'll have his.

On top of that, they start their new world tour, so he's even less available than before, and all your plans start going to hell, for the first time since the beginning of your relationship, Chris is not there to tell you that it's all good. Until it's not. And you're lonely with your love.

You both know that it's neither of your faults. Things like this were bound to happen, both you and Chan are very sought-after people in your industry, of course, his job is more demanding, but that doesn't help your relationship at all. You feel somewhat like you've been played like this is not what you signed up for when you've got into a relationship with the love of your life. At one point you get so used to being without Chris that you start thinking your relationship was all a made-up fantasy created by your exhausted brain. But you know it was true, it was the realest relationship you've ever been in. But what remains of it now? Postponed date nights, regretful glances, and 5-minute phone calls filled with rushed apologies and empty promises.

Are you even happy anymore?

Of course, Chan feels it too, and he's scared. He doesn't want to lose you. There are so many unspoken words between the two of you, but his career is blooming and it's high time for him to take care of the kids as their careers have skyrocketed with their last few comebacks. And he loves to believe that the insane success they're having has everything to do with your involvement. Not just your work on the album, but your sheer presence. The support you offer him and all his bandmates. The warmth that you bring, the smiles that you cause. He's reminded of you in everything they do: you're there in every song they play, in every lyric he sings. He's also lonely with your love.

However, there's one thing that keeps him going, your words of reassurance from before: it wouldn't be worth it if it wasn't this hard, there wouldn't be starlight if it didn't get dark.

Rushed hugs, short pecks on your lips, those damned 5-minute conversations that feel so suffocating also sparkle with hope over his pitch-black sky. It gives him reassurance that one day, when his schedule frees up just a little bit, everything will go back to normal, how it used to be. It keeps him going. You're also extremely reassuring. You keep telling him, that this is temporary, that it will pass and that you're alright, and your relationship can survive.

That hope shatters when he sits with his bandmates in a car on the way to the airport. The radio is playing a song that he's never heard before, but he recognizes the voice instantly. He heard it many times when you recorded guides for the boys, when you sang in the shower at his apartment or directly to him when he couldn't sleep, your voice alone lulling him into dreamland.

He listens to the lyrics carefully and the first few lines of the melancholic song make his stomach tighten and he pales and all the hope he was holding onto desperately shatters with his heart:

The gap between us growing wide Was bound to happen over time We live our lives in parallel So I really hope this finds you well

"Wow, this song is amazing, who's singing it? The voice sounds so familiar." Han exclaims and he asks the driver to turn up the volume so that he can hear it better.

"Oh, yeah, it went viral on TikTok. Some new artist, she goes by a pseudonym and this is her only song." Felix explains and goes into detail about all the theories online about the true identity of the artist. Chan knows it's you though, and as the song rolls into the chorus, he feels like throwing up.

That it's all good until it's not And I'm lonely with our love It's not mine, it's not your fault That I'm lonely with our love It wouldn't be worth it if it wasn't this hard There wouldn't be starlight if it didn't get dark But it's all good until we're lonely with our love

As soon as they touched down in Seoul Chris rushed through the crowded airport, his heart pounding with urgency as he fought against the wave of doubt that had been building ever since he heard the song in the cab hours ago. He knew what he had to do—he couldn't let you slip away, he couldn't let the doubts and the loneliness eat away at you like it had been for weeks now. The distance between you two had grown not just in miles, but in words left unsaid, in moments ignored. The obligations of your lives, but mainly his had woven a web that seemed impossible to escape, but he was determined to repair what was broken.

By the time he reached your door, he was breathless, not just from the rush but from the weight of everything he was carrying ever since this distance crept up between you. You open the door with weary, swollen eyes, reddened by sleepless nights and harsh computer screens. You're shocked to see him there, at your door, exhausted, panicked, yet hopeful. Full of love and adoration. You were waiting for him to say something. Anything to reassure you. And in that moment, Chan knew—he had to reassure the both of you.

Taking your hand, he spoke softly, but with all the sincerity in his voice. "We’ve lost sight of each other, I know," he said, his words trembling, "but we’re not broken. This, what we have—it’s worth fighting for. I’m here, and I promise we can make it through this. Together. I promise you, it's gonna be worth it because it's this hard. After all, you're the starlight when my life gets dark. I love you. I want to do this with you, and I can't promise you that we will not be lonely with our love ever again, but it will always get better, I can guarantee that. We don't always have to live our lives in parallel. Not all our plans will go to hell. And I'm always gonna be here to tell you, that it's all good, even if it's not perfect all the time."

For a long moment, you looked at him, a mix of doubt and hope flickering in your eyes. The eyes that he found himself falling for many times before. But then, slowly, you let out a breath you didn’t know you'd been holding, and the walls that had built up between the two of you began to crumble. The road ahead was uncertain, but in that moment, you both understood: love, when nurtured and protected, could withstand even the hardest of times. You didn’t need all the answers, only each other.

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