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nyimasu · 1 year

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───── 𝑃𝐴𝐼𝑁𝑇 𝐼𝑇 𝐵𝐿𝐴𝐶𝐾

PAIRING — yoshida hirofumi x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS — it just so happens that you and yoshida have been crushing on each other for some time and now it's time to take it up a notch.

CW — reader is a civilian, aki is really salty here y'all but deep down he's a cinnamon roll <3, canon universe (slight differences), mutual pining, wet dreams, blindfolds, multiple orgasms, creampie, monsterfucking at the end but nothing serious yet

WC — 4.9k ;; cross-posted on ao3

ANYA'S CORNER — all characters are aged up here and well, this might as well be the first of other fics about yoshida *sighs* time will tell but i hope you enjoy this in the meantime!

"Oh, God. What the fuck did you do to your hair now?"

"And good morning to you too, Aki. Today you are bitchier than usual. Did the Fox Devil pee in your bed this morning?"

He gives you the finger, then unties your hair just to let out a frustrated grunt two seconds later. Despite what everyone thinks, you and the boy by your side are just best friends. Actually, more like platonic soulmates. Sometimes you wonder where you end and he begins and vice versa.

What led most of them to think so is Aki's antics. He's quite physical with you: kisses on the cheek, hugs, casual ass honking, you name it.

No matter the circumstance, you are always within reach for him to tease.

But this time around he does so much more than that.

"I get it: you wanted a fresh start after what that bastard did to you. You should’ve let me beat some sense into them, as I suggested to you when you were sobbing in my lap, and save your scalp from a mental breakdown at 3 AM in our bathroom. I would've never imagined it was this bad.

Just- do you smell it? Ugh. The chemicals are burning my nose.

I’m about to barf."

"Come on, don’t be such a baby. It’s not that bad."

Aki catches a strand of your hair between his fingers and tugs at it, annoyed. Its white-silvery hue is glossy, and unbeknownst to you both, the texture isn't so frizzy, either. But the stink of bleach is still here, haunting your best friend’s nostrils.

"After the shift you better go home and wash your hair again. I won’t come near you a minute longer if you ignore me."

"Will you stop patronising me if I say yes, you Karen?"

He eyes you, expression blank. He gives nothing away as he deadpans, "Probably."

"Still better than hearing you ramble like a grumpy old man, anyway." you walk past him hiding your smile before he can reply and go in the back, getting ready to start another day.

You both work as bartenders/waiters in a cute cafeteria nearby the college you and him go to. The paycheck is good and combined, you and the boy are able to make ends meet smoothly.

The only downside is the total lack of spare time: the moment your shift ends, Hayakawa has to hurry up and start his. Most of the time, you two have to work side by side during the busiest hours of the day, all due to your boss’ laziness in scheduling decent shifts.

The only moments you can talk a bit without worries are the ones outside the flat, college and in front of the lockers in the back of the cafeteria.

However, that day you feel good.Really good. You haven’t felt that way since your partner — now ex-partner — dumped you right in front of your family’s house three months earlier.

“My family doesn’t think you’re the one for me. You know what they say about those who don’t meet their standards, don't you? And you're so... weird. Yeah, you'll never be good enough for them.

We should stop our relationship before it gets any further.”

The idiot had the audacity to use their own relatives to cover their ass behind such blame excuses to justify cowardice. They didn’t want to commit, you could see that in those eyes you once found difficult to look away from.

When you did, it was too late. Your heart had already been broken.

On top of that, you are going to see them for the rest of the year; they are two years ahead of you and Aki, but they still attend some of your classes, as well. Moreover, you always see each other at the entrance every morning.

It's torture, looking at them living their best life whereas yours is still drowning in nostalgic waters.

Your hand closes around the uniform you have in the locker. The thin fabric of the plain black shirt cracks as you wear it, soon after joined by a tight pair of white jeans.

Then your eyes fixates on the shoes you're supposed to wear and let scoff, "Hell no, I won’t wear these infernal devices today."

The polished high-heels in the cabinet stare right back at you as you finish to dress up, even as you close the locker and head back to the counter. No need for them today.

Aki is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, waiting. The moment you brush past him, his big hand takes one of yours to place them on his heart.

His pretty eyes scanned your figure once more, searching for any sign of distress as he breathes, "Are you really okay?"

Your gaze softened. "I’m more than okay, Aki. Stop worrying about me."

"How can I? It’s what best friends do: looking out for each other."

"And your best friend is telling you that she’s fine." you yank at the ends of his topknot with your free hand and smile, "Besides, today is a new day. From now on, I want to be a better version of myself.

They won’t have anything of mine anymore."

You both walk back but before any of you can do another step, the boy corners your body with his. Your back collides with the cold surface of the counter, yet the warmth in the eyes of your best friend makes up for it. His height engulfs yours by a lot, so it's no big deal for him to tower - no, hover - over you.

He stretches out a hand, fingers lightly grazing your cheeks. "Promise?"

"Yes, I promise. Let's get to work, now."

Your hand covers his for a split second and he finally nods, planting a kiss on your forehead as he lets you circle him to take position by his side.

There is no way he would give up so easily. He's up to something.

You want to investigate some more but it's not the right moment for it. Being it is almost opening time, and there are a lot of people already behind the glassy doors, students, mostly, you decide to postpone. If he's going behind your back-

The doors open right at that moment, and the momentum cuts off your thoughts. For now.

You are smiling a lot that morning and it doesn't go unnoticed.

The rings on your hands don't, either.

Some regular customers even dare to slip their phone numbers in the cash they hand you over to pay, grazing your slender fingers to catch a glimpse of the shiny bands wrapped around them, but you always turn them down with a shy smile.

The stares you can handle, but nothing more.

You make small chats with everyone passing by the register and at some point you must’ve gone to tie your hair into the usual bun because Aki’s slaps on your thigh stops you halfway.

Turning, you look at him, puzzled. "What?"

The boy looks at you up and down twice before replying, "That colour looks gorgeous on you. Keep your hair down."

"You should do the same, Pineapple Head." you reply, genuinely confused because to be honest, he is prettier than you with his hair that way.

The look your best friend gives you is murderous before nodding at the next client who walks to you you. And with that, the conversation hangs over your heads again.

That day, lots of students and teachers come to grab something to eat before rushing back to classes. But what surprises you the most is to see a familiar face among the group who just walked in, settling in a table not far from the bar counter.

Aaand goodbye good vibes.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Aki, don’t." you hiss, hand already reaching for the boy's. His knuckles turn white as his eyes melts your ex's chair, the idiot looking up right then. Seeing you and Aki, however, has them immediately bend their head forward and avoid your gaze. Pathetic.

Already feeling what's about to happen, you grab Aki by his bare arm and hiss, "Don’t do anything stupid."

"I won’t," his blue eyes pierce right through you and clarifies with a short, "Not in public, anyway. The same goes for you.»

"As much as I hate to admit it, they're a client. They must be respected even if they’re in the wrong.

But that won't stop me from being salty."

You leave without looking back, heading towards the rather noisy group. As soon as they see you coming their way, everyone stops whatever they're doing and stare at your silhouette. The one who doesn’t even flinch is the one who should’ve hidden behind the table, on their knees.

Their eyes lock with yours while one of their hands strokes a girl’s thigh right beside them.

So they were already with someone else, uh? Judging by looks alone, she's a far more “normal” fit than you've ever ever been.

Do they really think something like that would hurt you, after everything they said to you?

"Hello, eveyone. Are you ready to order?"

The friends who snap out of their minds first order straightway, while the person you thought you loved till some months before take their time, talking with the short brunette whose hand is now an inch away from their thigh. Then, acting as if you just arrived there, your ex turn to tell you what they both want.

You write it down quickly, adding ‘spit in their hamburger ♡’ right next to the order.

"I see you dyed your hair and got a new tattoo. Seems like I dodged a fucking oddball, after all."

You put down the digital pen and shoot your ex a customer smile. Finally the other shoe has dropped.

"You know what’s funny about oddballs? You never know where they’ll hit next. Next time it might be your face, how about that?"

You feel one of their friends trying to trip you. The reason why they do it? No idea… until you step on the foot that almost have you face-first on the floor, pushing on it with your whole weight.

"Hey, you stepped on my foot!"

You pin the boy next to your ex with your gaze, "I could do so much worse than this, but I won’t. You know why?» you lean closer and sigh. "You’re a client. I can’t do anything tangible now, but wait until my shift is over. I’ll shove my leg so far down your throat you’ll suff-"

"I’m taking it from here.

Go."

Aki’s chest crashing against your back cuts you off. Turning, you see him looking at the group with a customer smile. A real one.

Then his fingers take a hold of the tablet still in your hands with one, smooth move. You go to snap back at him, but you know better than being too petty.

If he hadn’t stepped in, you would’ve ended up picking a fight that would cost you the job and a demerit note.

The implications in his tone snap you out of it. Your eyes set on him as you smile, just as you apply more pressure on the boy's foor.

"Of course. I’ll be at the bar if you need me."

The blonde-haired stranger curses you out but does nothing else to stop you again. You don't look back, not even when you hear the chick next to your ex speak ill of you. It should’ve hurt your feelings, but that girl looks so naive that you actually feel bad for her. She's too caught up in your ex's spell to understand that they are just using her for sex.

What a disappointment your ex turned out to be.

The moment your best friend comes back to the counter, any sense of anger and annoyance has left you.

Clients keep you busy until you manage to push your ex’s presence in the darkest corner of your mind. Saying you are grateful to them is an understatement.

Time goes by pretty quickly and before you know it, it's almost lunch time. Meaning you are about to end your shift.

Despite this, once you have some time to talk, the tall boy next to you turns on his heels so abruptly you swear you hear his bones crack.

Aki is speaking through his teeth when he whispers, "What the hell was that? Are you trying to get fired or what?"

Your hand reaches Aki’s to press it against your chest. "I could never leave you and your pretty face all alone in a place like this, Hayakawa. But that bastard still has the power to push my buttons all at once and I just can’t stand the sight of them. And that poor girl… I feel sorry for her."

"Your ex is not your problem any longer, remember? You finally get to live your life away from that shithead."

All of a sudden, Aki isn't looking at you anymore. His attention shifts on a group of people that is walking in now, and you look at them too from above your shoulder. The five of them are so beautiful that the people still in the cafeteria turn to stare at them.

But most importantly, they are deadly.

You recognise their uniforms, how could you not? Devil Hunters are a big deal, especially around colleges and other crowded places. Most of the devils’ attacks affect those ones, so at least a couple of them are always around to patrol the area and call the police in case of need.

Something in your best friend’s gaze set off all your alarms and you push him away. "You know them."

"Oh, we both do." he deadpans, fingers itching to grab the cigarette pack in his pocket. He still have three hours left before he can go on break, so he can't really sit out this one.

You snap your fingers in front of him to get his attention and when you do, he raises an eyebrow, unfazed. The one who's boiling is you and you alone, and you implode with an esasperate sigh.

"So this is what you’ve been up to, uhm?"

Aki cracks his fingers. "I don’t like the accusations you’re trying to make."

"Oh, bite me. Don’t tell me I wouldn’t notice you looking at the door like a teenager in love waiting for their sweetheart to show up.

Come on, what is it?"

Aki leans against the counter, bringing you closer to him. "If I promise to tell you this, will you do something for me in return?"

Oh-oh. Every time he asks you to do him a favour, you end up tangled in things bigger than you.

As if he reads your mind, Aki rolls his eyes. "Nothing complicated, I promise."

You fold with a scoff, arms crossed on the chest. "Fine. What do you want?"

He tries to fight back a smile. Unusual, for Aki Hayakawa rarely holds back on his happiness. Not anymore.

When he first met you, five years ago, his perception of life turned upside down. Including his view on showing emotions.

"I have this friend… hey, listen to me before saying anything, okay?" his thumb draws little doodles on the counter's space close to you.

"Like I was saying, I have this friend who’s always been kinda into you. I wouldn’t mingle if I wasn’t sure he might be a good influence in your life.

You know how protective I am of you."

This time you're the one to raise an eyebrow, suddenly feeling self-aware. "So you want me to go on a date with him or something?"

His eyes widens in shock. You fear he might have a heart attack if he keeps staring at you like a lunatic on stereoids.

"Woah. You’re the one who suggested it, not me. I was going to ask you if you could do me the courtesy of grabbing a coffee with him, just to chat, but you went all in by yourself. I won’t be the one to change your mind, now."

You say nothing for a while. Rather, you glance at the table the Devil Hunters are at to see what all the fuss is about.

Three girls and two boys are chatting, and the closest to the counter are a boy with sandy hair and a girl with strawberry locks. Her horns look so cute but on a second glance, their pointed edges look very sharp. A Fiend, you correct yourself.

Another young woman with pitch-black locks that descend on her face like silk curtains sits across them, right next to the tallest girl out of the three. She wears her long, blonde hair in a ponytail and out of the bunch, she seems to be the most stoic one. An eye patch covers her right eye, but that doesn't mean she has her guard down.

As for the rest, you can tell they are quite unique: the boy with red hair is stunning, achingly so. He looks like an angel- Wait.

"No-"

Aki nods, suddenly serious. "Yes. They are part of the same division I was in a few years ago. The one you convinced me to step back from when we got into college.

If you look closely, I’m sure you’ll recognise some."

Aside from Chainsaw Man — you got the chills just thinking about his true devil form — the Blood Fiend, Quanxi, the Angel and War Devil there is another person in the group. One you came across many times when you went to Public Safety’s Headquarters to hang out with Aki.

His dark eyes land on you just as you smack away your best friend's hand. By the time you regain your posture and finish staring at Aki, you turn and a scream build up in your throat.

The woman with the eye patch is now sitting at the bar counter, legs crossed and her gorgeous face resting on a hand.

She's fast.

Shitty human reflexes.

Her voice tone is quiet yet adamatine as she says, "Hello there. So you’re the one who convinced Aki to quit Public Safety."

You gulp and wonder if she hears it. Probably yes.

"H-hello, Lady Quanxi. I never thought I’d have the pleasure to make your acquaintance. And well, I wouldn’t say I forced him or something.

I just gave him a little push, that’s all."

She waves a hand in your direction, then looks at the tall boy next to you. "She’s cute, Hayakawa. Too cute for this world, I might say. Are you sure that she is your best friend? You seem too grumpy to have someone this cheerful around that can suck up with your dry sense of humour."

Your best friend exhales sharply, staring back at The First Devil Hunter without blinking. You don't dare to laugh, but a small snicker escapes you nonetheless.

It's as if you are watching an older sister scold her younger brother.

"Of course she is. And she's too cute for you, Quanxi. Hands off her, please."

The woman raises her hands, then returns to the table at human speed. After she does so, your eyes almost escape your skull when Aki pinches you. Out of surprise, you slap him across the face.

"Oh! What the fuck was that for?!"

"You startled me, you idiot. Were you trying to set me up with her? With Quanxi?" you start to sweat profusely. "Man, I don't know if I’m in for that type of thing. I mean, she’s the embodiment of ride or die — literally. I don't think I'm ready for that kind of carousel yet-"

Aki stops your rambling by shaking his head. Then he takes his hand into yours once more and points a finger towards the table.

"Look closer."

Dark, lush hair frame a slim face now turned in your direction, his beauty mark under the lips unforgettable. His eyes, despite being so piercing, carry the same warmth his smile radiates.

Yoshida Hirofumi.

Pretty sure the chemical burning Aki warned you about is eating your brain, you stare at the Devil Hunter in awe. "Nah, that can’t be. I must be dreaming. Pinch me."

Hayakawa does so again. Harder this time.

You punch his arm in retaliation and he simply huffs at your little tantrum. However, he drags you in a bone-crushing hug shortly after. Accepting it amidst laughs, you laugh in the crook of his neck and wait for your nerves to calm on their own.

So the person you had a crush on for the longest time ever feels the same about you. The fear of being rejected by him is what kept you from acting upon your feelings. Rather, you locked them away in a corner of your heart.

After all that time, after every heartbreak you went through, he's still there waiting for you?

An idiot. That's what you are.

Still looking at Yoshida, you dare to smile and your heart is filled with joy when he does the same. You whip your head towards Aki to look at him through the corner of the eye.

"Okay, I’ll go on a date with him. Let’s see how it goes."

The one to take the group's orders and bring them everything is your best friend. You prefer to watch the scene unfolding from afar. Hayakawa stays behind for a while, chatting with your crush.

Right before coming back he leans closer to Yoshida, whispering something along the lines of 'hey man, she wants to go on a date with you or whatever', but the group overhears it all the same and Hell breaks loose.

Not literally, but you fear for the well-being of the cafè for a good second.

Denji and Power are still howling, feet on the table and head thrown back in amusement, when Aki heads back to the counter with a satisfied grin; Quanxi and Yoru looked at one another for a moment, then each of them grab the kids by the legs and they facepalm on the table.

Angel is having none of it, and keep eating his ice cream as if nothing happened.

You and Yoshida seem to have the same thought because when you turn to look at him again, the dark-haired Devil Hunter is doing the same from above his shoulder. His smile reaches his pierced ears and something in your stomach stirs. Probably butterflies. Or hunger.

"He’s literally breaking his neck to get a better view of you. Goddammit, come here. Why am I doing all of this by myself?

Listen: now that we're settled, go and ask him when you two can go on a date."

Your heart drops at your feet. "Uhm excuse me, where you not there talking to him a minute ago? Hell no. You go."

Blood escapes Aki’s body, leaving him staring at you dead in the eye.

He acts as if you just said you killed his cat.

"I wouldn’t go on a date with Yoshida Hirofumi even if he was the last person on Earth. He’s your boo, not mine."

You stomp a foot, pointing a finger at him. "Stop it. I hate when you say “boo”. It's cringe.

Also, you were the one to set me up with him in the first place. Take the fall for it."

If looks could kill, you'd be burning amidst the flames of Hell by now. "No, I won't. And guess what? You're two adults perfectly able of talking to each other but neither of you was bold enough to confess, so I had to step in and set you two up. He never stopped asking about you, even after I left. And you talk in your sleep, don't you?"

His tone is steady, but there is a hint of amusement in his voice when he whispers:

"I’m tired of hearing you calling out his name in the middle of the night while you squeeze a pillow between your thighs. Fuck him and get over with it."

A shocked gasp falls past your lips and when you look back at the table, fearing the Devil Hunter heard you. They haven't, except one.

The man of the hour is gone. Oh, no. No.

NO.

Horrified, your gaze lands in front of you. More specifically, on the chair Quanxi was previosuly sitting on. Now Yoshida is sitting there for God knows how long, and a sly smirk is painted all over his face.

Aki follows your gaze, pinching your arm again. But you have no will or strength left in you to strike back.

Damn it. Your crush had just heard your best friend say out loud you have been dreaming about him for years. Wet dreams, at that.

Every night.

Hirofumi perches himself on the wooden surface, leaning so close to you that breath gets stuck in your throat.

"Have you now? Care to walk me through some of them over a coffee? Or dinner, maybe?"

Actually, you did more acting than talking. In fact, you showed Yoshida pretty soon some of the best bits of your wet dreams with him. Date after date, week after week.

Now six months had gone by since Aki set you two up and that night, right after you came home from a dinner out with the Special Division, you both had gone insane.

It all started as a joke: you under him on the bed, riled up because of all the teasing at the table, with the blue scarf around his neck dangling between your faces with every kiss Yoshida left on your cheeks, your neck.

Then one thing have led to another, and you eventually started the fire with a simple smile. Hirofumi have come to know you pretty well over time.

He was damn sure it wasn’t an innocent one. “Time for another round, isn't it? Come here.”

Yoshida had giggled in your ear and just like that, you relaxed and returned to the present.

His hands graze your trembling ones for a split-second. The soft fabric of the scarf he used to cover your eyes smells like him and you take in the scent as he continues to worship your body, so tensed and ready to snap under his.

Even after you have come three times, once while your lips are wrapped around his cock with a hand shoved in your drenched panties and twice under the relentless attack of his mouth and fingers, sensory overload still hasn't overcome your body. Stamina is one of your strongest suits, and so is Yoshida's.

He wraps a hand around his dick, coating it in your release to pump it two, three times as his words reaches you.

"Think you got another one for me? Uhm?"

"Y-yes."

Your ragged breath fans over his face as he leaned down to kiss you again. His tongue came out to play with yours as you sense the head of his cock breaching past the entrance of your pussy — he is huge. You barely have time to moan and arch against him before Yoshida straightens his back and placs your hands on his waist.

"Hiro', you feel so good- Fuck."»"

His fingernails bury themselves in the tender flesh of your thighs as he bottoms out inside you, cock pulsing and twitching against your walls. Another desperate whimper leave you right after, because he isn't moving.

Is he really throwing a gauntlet? When he's balls-deep inside you?

Fire begins to boil in your veins and it feel amazing. Pouting, you brace yourself on your elbows. Even blindfolded, you can almost see his eyes transfixed on your boobs. But when you pout again, his gaze shifts to your lips.

Yoshida always make sure to reward you when you beg for his cock.

"Please, baby. I can’t take it any longer. Please, move.

I need you." your voice is feeble, tears already pooling in your eyes. You are at your limit.

He tries to control himself, yet another shiver runs across your skin when he suddenly pulls you flush against his chest. With the new position, his cock goes even deeper and you writhe in ectasy. He is dangerously close to hit your cervix.

Again.

"Of course. You asked me so nicely, princess."

His hips start to move against yours slowly and you sigh, relieved.

But now, his pace changes. You should’ve expected it, but nonetheless you find yourself resting your forehead on his collarbone as he fucks you stupid.

The bed creaked under his movements and Yoshida urges you to lay on your back once more; when you comply, he slips out of your pussy just to slam back in. His eyes fall onto your face.

"Come on. Cum for me one last time."

You let yourself go with a strangled moan, breathing heavily against Yoshida as he draws a fourth orgasm out of you, fucking you through it as his own has him curse under his breath.

You milk him dry, but he still thrusted a few times more to pump his cum back into you. Only when you twitch in overstimulation does he stop and as soon as the softness of his scarf leave your eyes, the dim light shed by the moonlight help you see Hirofumi’s proud grin.

"You did so well." he whispers in the dark, caressing your hair as you both calm down. His heartbeat follows yours for a while but once you are stable enough to speak again, your fingernails trace his cheekbones and he tilts his head.

"Box checked for 'Wet dream n° 52'. You're even crazier than me for following through with them." you chuckle.

"Oh, shush. How many are there again?"

"Roughly around a hundred but who's counting?"

His gaze darkens but doesn't move a muscle. Tonight, you've done enough exercise for a week.

"Poor Aki. He’s not going to be happy about it."

"He’s a big boy, he’ll manage. It’s not like we never had sex while he’s in another room, remember?"

His hips snap against yours, teasing you, and a whimper builds up in your lower abdomen. "Yoshida."

He whispers against your lips, unbothered, "I didn't do it."

"I did."

You try to scream, you really do, but your partner is holding you so tightly against him that you eventually muster up enough courage to train your attention towards the place where the voice came from. To your shock, it did come from Yoshida.

No, from behind him.

And a gush of lust escapes down your thighs, excitement dripping down the already ruined sheets.

It's really happening.

All you do is watch and whimper in anticipation as a tentacle climbs up your leg, its head reaching the strings of your and Yoshida’s mixed releases. Hesitating at first, the tentacle then lapped up the juices and poked at your clit. Your hips buck into its touch and after you do, it vanishes again.

It only lasted a moment but it left you craving for more and Hirofumi's lust-blown gaze shows he has enjoyed it, too.

"Well, it looks like the Octopus Devil likes you enough to come out and play."

"I figured. Let it be from now on. I want to try something out."

The dark-haired boy’s grin now reflects yours. "Is this a spoiler for the next wet dream we're going to reenact?"

You kiss his beauty mark, beaming with mischief. "Oh, yes. Wet dream n° 53: 'Paint it, black'.

Fitting, right?"

#voice of cassandra #yoshida smut #yoshida x reader #yoshida x you #csm smut #csm x reader #csm x you #chainsaw man smut

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blingblong55 · 10 months

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Science- 141 + Los Vaqueros

This is based on a request:

Im sorry if this is such a downer but im in a really bad place rn andi need something to cope but can I have Los Vaqueros + 141 seeing their best nurse crying because their parents called them a failure for dropping out a doctor and wasting money and now their nurse thinks she's useless. The extent of their sadness is to the point of a seriously bad mental breakdown

Angst?, some fluff, platonic relationship, F!Reader

It's just science Don't let it break you down

You had become the favourite nurse for all of the 141 and Los Vaqueros men. So much so that in any mission where they had to go to a new country, you'd have to go as well. They trusted you with anything and everything, no doctor or other medical staff could get through them like you did. The one man that trusted you the most was Ghost, before he took his mask off back in Mexico, you had already seen that face, hundreds of times.

141 and Los Vaqueros, are working together in a new assignment, you of course were told to go with them. But after the last mission, you found it hard to concentrate on much. Things were becoming more difficult, and best believe there was a reason for this.

You have been a nurse in the military for about 5 years now, the things you've learned in you field, the memories you have created and people you've met are something you thank you job for. But about a year into you working as a nurse, you started to look into becoming a doctor. Something you always dreamed of becoming, and to be honest, it was a job position your family saw you in. Once you go into medical school, the worst stress you had gone through, it took a year and a half of your life to quit that dream.

You only had told your family you were pursuing that dream and of course Laswell, who moved your schedule around so you could attend school. On a great day, well at the beginning, your family called you.

They had received the news you had quit med school, and best believe they kept yelling at you. The text messages were also no good,

Mum: how dare you!!!!

Mum: we worked hard to give you a good life and education and the only thing we asked was for you to become a doctor and you failed us!

Dad: You are such a disappointment

Dad: a literal disgrace to my family

For days on end, the calls and messages kept coming through. Every day you'd start with a headache, reading through their shit messages, crying before breakfast and acting as if you only slept so little. It was getting out of hand, you started to get more and more tired.

You questioned your role in the military, asking yourself if you were even good enough to help people. But, you could cope with all that, it was easy to do it. It had become so usual to feel these things and ask all of these questions to yourself, it no longer fazed you. You'd jog or run to get this energy out of you.

Until tonight.

Echo team had been sent to a mission, a terrible one. Everyone came back with at least one injury. Blood on the floor as a few soldiers were dragged into beds. Everyone was woken up, Delta and Charlie team were sent to finish the mission. But as you and the other medical personnel ran through the med-bay, helping anyone that required assistance, you had found yourself crying in some supply closet.

Soap and Rudy had heard about the hectic night all of the medical teams were going through and the first person they thought of was you. So, naturally for the two men, they wanted to show you how much they appreciated the job you were doing. They made you some rather warm coffee and your favourite, carrot cake, well more like fairy cake/cupcake.

For about 30 minutes, they went around med-bay, calling and asking for you. Most shrugged and jogged back to some other rooms, others pointed in different directions. And thats when they heard your cry. They knew the stressed you put into tonight, but they didn't quite understand it, so they called for backup.

The rest of 141 and Alejandro were all waiting for the right time to open that door. One single knock and they couldn't hear you, "Hey kid, its us...can we come in?"

You unlock the door, the second you see Price, your arms wrapped around him as you hugged him. You sobbed and mumbled some words he couldn't quite make out. His hands patting and rubbing your back. Your sobs becoming louder as he whispers, "It's okay, kiddo. Let it out, we're here."

The other men just stayed quiet and stared. Mental breakdowns were normal in the military, the stress and pressure you are put through is beyond what civilians can go through. So, in some sad way, they all understood. Slowly, priced took you by the hand and guided you out of the closet in which you had spent at least an hour crying and laughing at yourself at.

Once they reached their part of base and into the common room, you stay there, arms crossed, a pillow being held.

"Lass," Soap said in a soft and gentle voice as he was the first to break the silence, "can I ask, what caused this?" He always cared so much for you, after all, you had become his best girl, and the only person to tolerate his banter.

"I....I think...no, I know I don't belong here."

"Belong where?" Alejandro asks.

"Here."

Ghost chuckles, he sits down and pats your leg, "I don't belong here, Soap, Gaz, and sure as hell Rudy doesn't either," he sighs and pauses, his finger at your chin as he makes you look at him, his other hand caressing your cheek and wiping your tears, "and my beloved, I know you don't belong here too." His voice carrying sincerity.

"Price and I, we may have our years of experience, but," Alejandro sits next to you, "sometimes things get hard, it happens."

"We can only take so much before we break, my dear." Gaz sits across from you.

"What caused this?" Rudy asked,

You sigh and look at the pillow, playing with the edges of it before answering, "a...a while ago I decided to become doctor," you paused before feeling like you were disappointing them, "I only lasted a year and a half in med school."

Price understood, in a way, why you had that mental breakdown.

"Y'know, I didn't become captain so easily."

"I failed a test and re took it well over 13 times before they made me colonel." Alejandro confesses

"And he made me the subject of that frustration." Rudy laughed a little.

"It was yer parents, wasn't it, lass" Soap spoke up, he and Gaz knew the story.

You, overworking yourself to make them proud, although that never came around. The word "proud", was never said to you, thats why you over accomplish things and thats why you are here in a couch, crying and being comforted by the men you have grown to call a family.

You look at soap, ghost's hand still rubbing your cheek as he wipes the tears away. "Yes."

Soap gets up and goes to you, kneeling in front of you as he looked you in the eyes, "You were born into a family that doesn't always appreciate you. But one day things are going to be very different."

He stood up, held your hand and gestured for the others to follow his lead, "c'mere, my bonnie." He kissed your forehead and hugged you, the other men doing the same.

At least 30 seconds after they gave into this group hug, gaz spoke first, "I don't mean to say this in a bad way, but...I think she gets it, hug over."

You chuckled and they pulled away, Price and soap stayed though.

"We love you kiddo, your place in this team is the most valuable." Price kissed your cheek and pulled away, not Soap, this was his excuse to show you his appreciation for you.

"We love ya so so much, but I do love ya more," he kissed your forehead once more before looking into your eyes, "my very best gal." He winks and wink back, something you two have been doing after each moment like this, although this time, the other witnessed it.

it's just science Don't let it scare you now

-----

A/N: Yes, I did use that Matilda quote...shut it..anyways..love ya<3

Tags: @anonymuslydumb (love ya, pookie bear<33333)

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iveta777 · 12 days

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March,2021

This week I’ve been dealing with a serious mental breakdown. I was so overwhelmed in the beginning of the week and I couldn’t resist anymore. I was so disappointed by myself because I had so much stuff to be done; I tried so hard, man, I really tried so hard but I just couldn’t keep up with my schedule; I had slept less than 8 hours in total for the past 3 days; I didn’t feel well because I had a killing headache which wasn’t good because I wasn’t able to do my work. The result as you already know was the only one possible: mental breakdown. I cried for hours… I cried because of my own high expectations for me. I cried because as a perfectionist I wanted everything to be done on time. I cried because I tried and I was doing stuff these three days but the result… Well, there was no result. I had a list of tasks and nothing was marked as done which made me feel like I did nothing that past days. I cried because I was so tired, so overwhelmed, so exhausted. I cried because my soul cried. I wanted a break but I couldn’t get one because I had no time for that. I needed some free time, me time. I wanted to watch a movie, or watch a YouTube video, or paint, or write( I love writing…), or go out, or… just sleep. My body was tired, my soul was tired, I was tired…

After two or more hours of crying I felt like a new person. I was great. I was calm, empty, free. I was me again. And after that everything was great, too. I did everything I had planned for the past three days in less than five hours. I was happy. This day turned out to be my day because some really great things happened…

To be honest, this mental breakdown turned out to be something I needed because after that I realized some things.

To begin with, I have the best mother ever. I mean it’s not something I didn’t know but after that I have no doubt that it’s true. I tried to hide from her what was going on with me but as a parent at the moment she saw me she knew something was wrong. I tried to hide it from her but she made me tell her. Then she told me that I could and I would deal with everything, that she was proud of me, that everything was going to be alright. She asked no unnecessary questions, she just hugged me and stayed with me. She asked my father to buy me a chocolate bar and stayed with me for hours till she was sure that I was fine. She wanted to do so much more and I saw the pain in her eyes when she realized that there was nothing else she could help me with. But that was fine because she gave me more than I needed. I only needed support and a shoulder to cry on and she gave me peace and love. There was nothing else I could ask for.

Second, I realized that when I have hard time I don’t have do deal with it alone. I am used to hiding my emotions and keep my problems for me. I never talk about myself or the issues I have. But gosh it felt really nice when I shared my problems with her. She showed me that I am not alone (which is my greatest fear- to remain alone).

Third, I realized that everyone has hard times and I should not be afraid of it. I realized that keeping everything in me is not good for my health on first place. I realized that crying is okay. I realized that crying can free you from your problems, to make some space for you to see the world from different perspective, to help you find the solutions you are looking for and you are struggling to find.

Last one, I realized that putting yourself first doesn’t make you selfish and egoistic. To put yourself first means to make priority the most important person in your life-YOU. I’ve always been told that but I never believed it. I always tried to make my parents proud. I always tried to please everyone. But for 20 years I never asked myself what I REALLY want, what I need, I don’t even know what makes me happy, or sad, or what is my favorite color and do I even have a favorite color. I know so much about the other people and at the same time I know nothing about myself. But now I know… I know that I should put myself first and that there is nothing wrong about that. I know that first I should make sure that I feel great and then to try to help others because if I can’t help myself and I don’t take care of myself, how would I do that for the others???

To sum up, I realized that this mental breakdown was actually a good thing. It was something I needed. It made me realize some important stuff and to realize that if I take care of myself and I am fine, everything will be alright. Also, I realized that I am not alone and I have never been- I just made myself feel alone which is much worse than actually being alone…

I.A.A.

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 7 months

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Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 22 Teaser

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC

A/N: Good morning/afternoon my lovelies! How are we all doing after that last chapter? Does the support group need to schedule a meeting? No? Maybe? Anywho, I thought today would be a good teaser day for Chapter 22. The chapter is done and currently with my wonderful beta @for-a-longlongtime. Is it bad if she's already asking me about scheduling a therapy session? I'm going to end up traumatizing you all before this experience is over. I still maintain we have to work for that happy ending. It will make it so much sweeter. Now, on to the teaser... So, this chapter is mostly going to be focused on Talia and how she is dealing with things while constantly being in Dieter's shadow. Seriously, she can't get away from his presence, even when he isn't there.

Dieter is still away doing Dieter things. We do get some glimpses of what he is up to though. I haven't decided if I will do a Deconstructing Dieter Bravo post for this chapter or not since we don't see a lot of him. I worry it may give too much away. I might save the next one for the following chapter.

Talia is going to learn about something she has been wondering about for a while now and it's going to have a big impact on her emotionally. There is a lot of symbolism that is talked about in this chapter and references to the past, as if your feels really needed all that.

I will have the chapter posted as soon as final edits are done. Hopefully @for-a-longlongtime will successfully make it through without having an emotional breakdown. Keep your fingers crossed for her y'all. 👀😬

Now, I'm going to get started on Chapter 23 while listening to this one fucking song on repeat...it's Lauren's fault. You'll probably find out why in Chapter 23 (Edit: Lies, it may be 24. Yes, I just updated the number of planned chapters on the master list.)

As usual, you know I love hearing your thoughts and predictions. Lay them on me. Your theories might get more tidbits out of me, you never know. 😉

Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @weho2kcmo @missladym1981 @maried01

Let me know in the comments below if you would like to be added to the tag list.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo fanfiction #destiny & deliverance teaser #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #pedro pascal smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x ofc #destiny & deliverance series #destiny & deliverance extras

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master-sass-blast · 4 months

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Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies–materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…”

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says.

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

#sass writes #sevika x reader #fueled by the author's desire to be built like a mountain #but alas i am a twig #also i know jackshit about arm wrestling #don't use this as a guide on how to win at arm wrestling #smut will be coming in part two

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sugdenlovesdingle · 4 months

Text

This is so so SO late but @chicgeekgirl89 here is your @tarlos-santa gift!

I absolutely loved all three of your prompts but in the end I went with: They lose power on Christmas Eve and Carlos freaks out about dinner but they make the most of it and still celebrate together.

And after several rewrites, mental breakdowns, existential crises, exasperation over the English language, and wondering if it's even real... this is the result and I hope you like it! Merry Christmas!!

---

Perfectly unperfect (AO3)

“What are your plans for the holidays, cap?” TK asked, making conversation as they headed back to the firehouse after a call on their last shift before Christmas.

“Oh, nothing much. I’m just going to enjoy the downtime with the girls. Staying in our pyjamas all day, eating junk food, and watching Christmas movies.��

“What about you and Carlos?” Nancy asked. “Let me guess, not leaving the bed unless absolutely necessary?” she teased.

TK snorted.

“I wish. Carlos has been planning the dinner for weeks. We’ve been all over the city to get ingredients and I thought he was going to cry when his schedule changed and he had to work Christmas Eve.”

“Are you hosting the family Christmas dinner then?”

“No, that’s the worst of it.” TK sighed. “Dad invited us over and so did his parents but we decided to stay home. So it’s just going to be the two of us. And he’s still bought enough food as if both our entire families are coming over.”

“Oh that sucks dude. Your husband cooking you a fancy holiday dinner? Damn that’s rough.” Nancy said sarcastically. “I’m glad nobody is going to do that for me this year. That would just suck.”

“Shut up.” TK rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate him cooking us dinner, it’s that he’s stressing out over it when I would be happy with a frozen pizza and watching Home Alone in bed.”

“Have you tried telling him that?” Tommy asked. “Communication is the key to a long and happy marriage.”

“I have, but he just gives me the Carlos Cow Eyes and tells me he wants to make it special for us. And I can resist anything but that. Those soulful brown eyes will be the death of me.”

Tommy laughed.

“I remember those days well. Charles’ laugh made me melt when we first got married. And then when the girls were born, seeing him with them…” she sighed. “I was a goner.”

“Yeah, I’m still working on Carlos making friends with Lou. He’ll make him his salad and sometimes even feeds him crickets or meal worms but he still won’t touch him with more than just a finger.”

Nancy looked at him.

“How do you go from babies to lizards? Your mind is such a strange place sometimes.”

“Lou is our baby!” TK said as he turned the ambulance onto the street the firehouse was on. “What are your plans for the holidays anyway? Are you going to LA to meet up with Mateo and meet the family?”

“No, me and Marj are just going to hang out and spend it together. We’re getting Chinese food and I’m making her watch the Lord of the Rings movies because she’s never seen them.”

“Really? Do you have room for two more? We’ll bring snacks.” TK jokingly asked.

“No way dude, I need a break from seeing your face every day.”

“You see Marjan’s face every day too.”

“That’s different. I’m not stuck in an ambulance for hours with her every day. And she has a nicer face than you.” Nancy teased and jumped out of the ambulance after TK had parked it in its usual spot in the firehouse. “Oh look, if it isn’t mister soulful eyes. Hey Carlos.”

Carlos gave her a confused look but returned the greeting.

“Hey babe, Nancy doesn’t like my face.” TK mock pouted and kissed Carlos hello. “She says she needs a break from me.”

“Does she? Well then it’s her lucky day, because I’m here to take you home. And I do like your face. And the rest of you.”

“That’s good to hear. But my shift doesn’t end for another hour. And yours not until seven.”

“I pulled in a few favours. The guy who transferred here from New Jersey a few months ago agreed to cover for me if I introduce him to your dad sometime. He nearly fainted when I told him who my father in law is. Apparently Owen Strand is a legend over there.”

“Not just over there. He’s a legend over here too.” Owen walked up to them. “Did you know local news wants to interview me? They’re doing a local heroes feel good thing for the holidays. Exciting isn’t it?”

“Yeah, definitely. We should give you pictures to sign. You could hand them out to your fans on calls.” TK teased.

“Very funny. See if I mention my ungrateful gremlin of a son in my interview now. I’ll just mention my always friendly and nice son in law who is just the kind of person to stop by after his shift to wish everyone happy holidays.” Owen patted Carlos’ shoulder. “And happy holidays to you too, Carlos.”

They hung around the firehouse until the end of TK’s shift and then went home together after wishing everyone a happy Christmas. Only when they stepped outside the weather had changed for the worse. It had started raining and the wind had picked up.

“Good thing I picked up the last supplies for our Christmas dinner before I came here.” Carlos commented, looking at the dark clouds through the windshield of his car after they got in.

“Was there anything left in the store you hadn’t bought then?” TK said, only half joking. “We have enough food to last until Christmas next year.”

“I just… wanted us to have options. You didn’t want the turkey dinner…”

“So you just bought everything else?” TK asked and leaned over the gear stick to kiss Carlos’ cheek. “I love you but when I said I didn’t want the whole turkey dinner, I meant I didn’t want you spending the whole day in the kitchen cooking some 10 course meal. We could just get a burger or tacos on the way home.”

“We can’t get tacos at Christmas, TK.” Carlos insisted. “And I don’t want to drive halfway across the city in this weather anyway.”

By the time they made it home, the rain had gotten even worse and unfortunately Carlos’ usual parking space was taken, which meant they had to park further down the street and run to the front door.

They were both soaking wet in seconds and causing a mini flood when they walked into their loft a few minutes later.

TK dumped his keys in the bowl by the door and the bag he was carrying on the kitchen counter.

“This can wait.” He decided, and turned to Carlos. “You, me, shower, now.”

“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute. Just let me put this stuff away.” Carlos replied, opening the freezer and putting a tub of TK’s favourite ice cream in.

“Babe. I need to get out of these wet clothes… and I could use some help.” TK said, grabbing Carlos’ hand and dragging him to the bathroom. “Like I said… you, me, shower, now.”

In the end, Carlos didn’t need much convincing and TK decided that this was easily the best Christmas eve he’d ever had.

Especially since he spent the rest of the night making out on the sofa with his husband like a couple of teenagers, instead of watching some cheesy Christmas movie they’d put on as background noise.

When he woke up the next morning, he reached out for Carlos, hoping to convince him to sleep in or possibly even stay in bed the whole day, but found his side of the bed empty and cold.

He listened for clues on what Carlos was doing, and most importantly where, but didn’t hear much except the storm still raging outside their loft.

“Babe?” he called out, sitting up in bed. “Carlos?”

“I’m here.” Carlos appeared in the doorway carrying a tray filled with food and fresh juice. “I was making breakfast.” He put the tray on the nightstand and leaned down to kiss TK. “Good morning. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” TK replied and then did a double take. “Wait… you made me breakfast in bed? Who are you and what have you done to my husband?”

Carlos chuckled and got into bed.

“I wanted to do something nice for you. For us. We’ll just change the sheets when we’re done.”

“I could get used to this.” TK commented and bit into a chocolate covered strawberry. “Though we could’ve just gotten coffee and pastries from that place on fifth.”

“Not in this weather. The storm from last night has only gotten worse. My mom texted me earlier and told us not to drive out to the ranch because it’s too dangerous.”

“We weren’t going to…”

“I know. But now we’re officially excused. They have Ana and Diego and the kids staying with them anyway, they won’t miss us.”

After breakfast, TK managed to convince Carlos to stay in bed and watch a movie with him, even though he knew the other man was itching to get started on the Christmas lunch and dinner he’d planned.

The storm was still raging outside but snuggled up together under the covers in their bed, neither man really cared.

TK facetimed his mom and they watched Jonah tear open the presents they’d sent over.

“You two spoil him.” Gwyn said, sounding mildly exasperated but smiling. “Enzo and I agreed to keep it simple and then you two buy him everything from his list.”

“It’s for his birthday too.” TK argued. “And I just want him to know he has a cool big brother in Austin who will buy him cool presents.”

“He fought two soccer moms for that robot dog.” Carlos told Gwyn. “It got ugly.”

“It’s ok. There wasn’t any blood.” TK joked and they all laughed.

“Did you get our presents?” Gwyn asked.

“You mean the plane tickets in our names? As a not so subtle way of telling us to come visit?”

“I don’t do subtle. It just complicates things.” Gwyn argued. “And I haven’t seen you two since the wedding! It’s been way too long. I’ve almost forgotten what you look like.”

“You’re seeing us now.”

“I just see your face.”

“I’ve been told it’s a very nice face.”

“It is a nice face, I made that face. But I’d like to see the rest of you again too. And you too Carlos.”

“We’ll do our best to come visit as soon as we can in the new year.” Carlos promised and got out of bed. “I’ll leave you two to talk, I’ll get started on dinner.” He said and pulled one of TK’s hoodies over his head.

Only before he’d even made it out of the bedroom, there was a loud clash of thunder and the loft went dark.

“What the hell?”

Carlos tried the light switch next to the bedroom door but nothing happened.

“Is it just us?” TK asked, getting out of bed after quickly saying goodbye to his mom. “We didn’t have that many appliances running that we’d blow a fuse, did we?”

“I don’t know.” Carlos said, frustrated. “I’ll go check the fuse box downstairs. Do we still have that flashlight?”

“Kitchen drawer I think. Do we have any new fuses?”

“I don’t know. I thought I bought some when we moved in. When I moved in…”

“That was ages ago.”

“I know that, TK.” Carlos snapped but regretted it immediately. “It might not be the fuse anyway. I’ll just go have a look downstairs and we’ll take it from there.” He slipped on his work boots and grabbed his keys, and all but slammed into their neighbour when he opened the door.

“Oh, hi. Did your power just go out too?” she asked, looking past him into the loft. “I was talking to my sister in Ohio and suddenly everything went poof. I think it’s the storm.”

“Yeah, everything went black for us too.” Carlos told her and noticed more neighbours coming out of their apartments to see what was going on. “It looks like it’s the whole building.”

“Actually, it’s the whole city. Or parts of the city.” TK joined them in the doorway and showed Carlos his phone. “I still have that 911 scanner on my phone. There are calls coming in from all over the city. The storm knocked some power lines down and they can’t fix them until it’s over.”

“Fantastic.” Carlos felt a tension headache building behind his eyes.

“Do you boys have candles? I have plenty, you can have some. I like to light some for dinner this time of year. It gets dark so early.”

“Thanks, but we’re ok Mrs Evans.” TK said and quickly closed the door. “What do we do now?” He asked Carlos.

“I don’t know. We have all this food that’s going to go bad if we don’t eat it, but we can’t prepare it because our stove is electric. And the ice cream in the freezer is going to melt and I bought it especially for our Christmas dinner because it’s your favourite.”

“Hey, hey, calm down.” TK put his hands on Carlos’ shoulders to stop him from spiralling. “The food will keep for a while. It’s only been 10 minutes and if we keep the fridge closed, it’ll stay cool. And we’ll just eat the ice cream now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Why not? Our Christmas, our ice cream, our rules. Grab a spoon.”

They sat down at their dining table with the ice cream, even though neither of them really felt like it, and TK could tell Carlos was distracted.

“Babe, what are you thinking about?” he pushed.

“What are we going to do for food? We can’t even have leftovers because we can’t heat anything up.”

“We could go get tacos after all.”

“Are they even open on Christmas day?” Carlos asked and pulled out his phone to look it up, but put it back down again right away. “We need to preserve the batteries of our devices.” He explained.

TK wanted to argue that they probably wouldn’t last for the entire time the power was likely to be out, but then his phone started ringing in his hand.

“Dad, hi, not a good time right now.”

“Did you just lose power too? It looked like your area got hit too but the map I saw wasn’t too clear.”

“Yeah, everything is dark here.” TK sighed and looked at Carlos who had started pacing up and down the loft. “We’re kind of screwed because the stove is electric too.”

“Come to me.” Owen suggested. “Not me, me… but the firehouse. It has a generator so there is power and heat. And a working stove.”

“I don’t know dad, we wanted to just do our own thing this Christmas.”

“In an apartment without power? Don’t be ridiculous TK. Just pack up and come over here.”

After a few minutes back and forth and Carlos getting pulled into the conversation, they promised Owen they were on their way, and a little over an hour later, they walked into the firehouse.

“And there was me thinking I wouldn’t have to see this place for a week.” TK sighed.

They greeted his dad and the crew from B-shift and TK got Lou set up in Owen’s office while Carlos put the food away.

They joined the crew in the lounge area where everyone was gathered around the TV and keeping a close eye on the weather report. Carlos sat down in his usual spot next to TK but barely said a word to anyone.

When Tommy and the twins came in some time later, he got up to greet them and wish them a merry Christmas, but for Nancy, Marjan, Paul, and Asha, he barely managed more than a smile and a quick “Hey.”.

TK was starting to worry and enlisted Paul’s help to pull him out of his funk.

“Carlos my man.” Paul started, patting Carlos’ shoulder. “We need to feed these people. We don’t want Marjan getting hungry. I still wake up in a cold sweat remembering those first few days of Ramadan last year.”

“I heard that!” Marjan yelled.

“Good! You were hangry and we all suffered!”

Carlos laughed a little and agreed to help Paul cook.

“Do we have enough to feed all of these people?”

“Yeah I think so. Asha and I brought our food and I saw the mountain of food that was already in the fridge when I put ours in there. We’re alright. Come on, let’s figure out what to make.”

Carlos joined Paul in the kitchen and soon there were multiple pots on the stove and the firehouse was starting to smell amazing.

TK was put on chopping duty, while the Vega twins helped Owen set up extra tables and chairs for everyone, and Nancy and Marjan attempted to fold the paper napkins they found in fancy shapes following a YouTube tutorial.

“Babe, come taste this.” Carlos held out a spoon for TK. “Good?”

“Yeah, it’s amazing. Is this what you were planning on making for us at home?”

“No, but with the stuff that was in the fridge here, and the stuff Paul and Asha brought we were able to experiment a little.”

“We should let you experiment more often.” TK said and stole another bite of the sauce. “This is really good.”

“Yeah? Not too spicy?”

“No, it’s perfect. Just like you.”

Carlos blushed and ducked his head but still let TK kiss his cheek and returned the “I love you” he murmured in his ear.

“If you two are going to be like this all night, we’re going back to Nance’s apartment.” Marjan announced and everyone laughed.

“Yeah, have some mercy on us single people.” Owen said, joining in on the teasing and stealing a quick taste of the food.

Dinner was somewhat chaotic and a little cramped since the firehouse kitchen wasn’t built to seat this many people at once, but everyone enjoyed their meal, and each other’s company.

Even though B-shift got called out and Owen had to join them on their call and leave their makeshift Christmas party.

“I vote we put on LOTR.” Nancy told the rest when they’d all settled down in the lounge after dinner. “Marj has never seen them and I said I’d educate her this Christmas.”

“We were planning on watching The Holiday.” Tommy said. “You can’t go wrong with a romcom at Christmas.”

“I haven’t seen The Holiday either.” Marjan admitted. “I’m not a big movie person ok? I get bored.” She defended herself when Nancy asked how she’d managed that and the Vega twins started shooting movie titles at her to check which ones she had seen.

“I guess it’s Jude Law first, and Orlando Bloom second then.” Asha settled the debate. “It’s not like any of us are going anywhere any time soon.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” Paul started. “If any of you guys snore, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

“You’ve shared a bunk room with most of us for years!” Marjan reminded him. “You know we don’t snore. Judd does. And Mateo sometimes.”

“And my dad.” TK grinned. “It used to wake me up when I was little. I thought it was the train going past our apartment but it was just him.” He said and everyone laughed.

They spent the rest of the night watching movies, and TK let Evie feed Lou and walk him around the firehouse on the leash and harness he’d bought a while ago.

Carlos had gone quiet again, but TK figured he was just tired and let him be.

By the time Owen returned with the B-shift, everyone was starting to get tired and Tommy took charge in working out the sleeping arrangements.

The twins wanted to sleep in the bunk room with the crew but Tommy insisted they slept in her captain’s quarters with her, while Owen gave up his to TK and Carlos.

“I know it’s nothing like your bed at home but it’s better than separate bunks with the rest of them right beside you.”

“We’re fine to sleep in the bunk room.” Carlos assured him. “We don’t want to put you out.”

“It’s fine. I insist.” Owen said and with TK’s help got Carlos to give in and accept the bed.

It was a small double bed barely big enough for the two of them, but they made it work.

“I’m sorry.” Carlos sighed, trying to get comfortable in the small bed after TK had turned off the lights and gotten into bed with him.

“Sorry for what?”

“For ruining our first Christmas as a married couple.”

“What? What are you talking about? Unless you caused this storm and the power cut, you didn’t ruin anything.” TK insisted. “And even if you did cause it, I’ve had a great night. I have you, Lou, my dad, our friends… That’s all I need.”

“I just… I had all these plans. I wanted to cook you something nice and exchange gifts by our tree and just… make our own traditions.” Carlos explained, avoiding looking at TK. “Especially after I made you deal with all of the crazy Reyes family traditions last year.”

“I had a great time last year too.” TK promised. “Especially when your abuela started talking about what Christmas was like when you were little. I loved that little look into how you grew up.”

“She was just happy to have someone to talk to that hadn’t heard all of her stories about 500 times before.”

“Well it’s a good thing I was a willing audience then.” TK laughed a little. “She even went out of her way to speak English with me the whole night, and she was so excited when I told her I was learning Spanish.”

“Yeah she told me to hold onto you when we left because you were a good boy with a good heart.” Carlos told him, smiling at the memory. “The whole Reyes family loves you.”

TK smiled and wrapped his arms around Carlos a little tighter.

“That’s good, but I’m only really interested in one of them loving me. Though technically his name is Reyes-Strand now.”

Carlos sighed and rolled onto his back.

“That’s why I wanted this Christmas to be special. The start of our life together.”

“Technically our life together started a long time ago.”

“You know what I mean.” Carlos sighed again. “Everything is official now. We’re married, the name change has gone through… I wanted things to be special. Perfect. Not… whatever this disaster was.”

“Baby, look at me.” TK said and waited for Carlos to do so. “I don’t care about presents or the perfect dinner… All I want for Christmas is you.” He said and kissed him for emphasis.

“Did you just quote Mariah Carey at me?”

TK shrugged.

“She made a pretty good point with that song.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #tarlossanta23 #carlos reyes #tarlossanta #tk strand #my writing #Why yes I am the absolute worst with deadlines #And yes I did write the ending first #and then couldn't figure out how to make the rest of it fit #which is probably obvious

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the-masked-ram · 10 days

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Falling for Frogs- Chapter Two

CW: NSFW, Slow burn, chubby!reader, fem reader, original female character (paired with Haley), side ships, mental illness, anxiety attacks, smoking, bdsm, loss of virginity, online bullying (not in anyway involving seb) A/N: I write Seb a little more confident but he is still brusque and anti-social. Also there will be something that really puts a hold on some of the development in the next chap... let's call it a misunderstanding so if that's not your jam well *shrugs* --- Chapter Two: Whiskey and Water

The bus was steady under your feet. The soft drone of the engine soothed the butterflies in your stomach. You never did this, you never visited other places for extended periods. There was reasons for that though. It disrupted your schedule; you needed a steady schedule to get things done. Usually. That hadn’t been working lately.

The breakdown at the convention last week had been a massive red flag that something needed to change. You’d been pushing yourself to the limits the last few months to try and get everything up to snuff on your game. Yet was it worth it? Was it worth destroying your mental state even more?

Your friend, Etta, or Henrietta to people who didn’t pass her vibe check, obviously thought so too. Since when you were trying to work up the courage to ask if you could visit— and honestly talking yourself out of it at the same time— she made the decision for you.

“Just come here. Stardew, will set you right,” she said with an irritated sigh.

She’d heard the same lines too many times. She’s heard you try and talk circles around this issue too many times.

“I don’t know, Etta,” you murmured into the phone.

“No. We aren’t doing this again just so you can call me again and sob in my ear. I’m tired of it,” Etta said.

You could practically see her pinching her nose in exasperation as she paced her house.

“Just get your ass here. You have a week before I come drag you here myself,” she said, worry lacing the threat.

You laughed, you couldn’t help it, and it was wet from the recent crying. You nodded even though she could see as you looked out of your window at the busy streets below your apartment.

“Do you have internet?” you asked.

The thoughts faded to the back of your mind as your stop began to approach. Your fingers twitched and you puffed out a breath between your lips, tapping your toes as you waited for the bus to slow. Butterflies gathered in your stomach until they grew into a near whirlwind. You schooled your expression though.

“Your stop miss,” the bus driver said, as the vehicle idled.

Your smile was painted on, frozen and awkward. The mask of someone who passed for normal when inside they were failing to tread water. It was only for a few months. You would be fine; Etta would make sure of that.

You stood and made your way down the steps. Your façade cracked a bit as you saw her familiar dark red waves pulled back into a ponytail, somehow pulling off a pair of dirtied overalls with perfection. Her soft features were harshened by a quirked eyebrow and crossed arms. Her blue eyes ripped apart every emotional defense you had, just like they always did, and you forced yourself not to release the grip that you had on your expression. You just pushed your smile to grow, and she pursed her perfectly shaped lips.

“Really?” she sighed, and her hand immediately snatched your wrist. “C’mon.”

“Wait my bags,” you said glancing back.

“Don’t worry about it, miss,” the bus driver waved you off. “It’s part of my job.”

You blinked and felt thrown off until an insistent tug on your arm reminded you that Etta was still there, and demanding you follow her. You shook your head and sighed, yet did as her impatience required.

“You could pretend to be a little more civil,” you hissed.

“Pretend to be nice to someone I may see like twice a month and never talk to? Why? That would waste so much fucking energy and I already expend enough on the town’s people,” she rolled her eyes.

You followed behind with a huff unable to fight the riptide that was Henrietta in all her glory.

“You need to get somewhere private anyway,” she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear. “You look like you are about to start crying.”

Your heart squeezed, knowing that she was protecting you from exposing parts of yourself you so carefully hid from others. Love, affection, and gratitude swirled through you, batting away the anxiety with ease. Yoba, you’d missed her.

You shifted until you were walking in time with her quick strides and as her grip loosened on your hand, your hand slipped into hers, clasping it tightly. She shot you a soft smile, something secretive and curated just for you.

“You should have visited much sooner,” she said as you passed through the gate of her farm.

You froze in your spot, “I really should have.”

Your lungs stopped working for a moment as you took in all the work she’d been doing. The crops that were carefully and lovingly planted. The barn and the coop were filled with animal sounds. Then a black lab came bounding across the yard to greet the two of you.

“This is Atila,” she said, sweeping her hand at the dog.

You smiled, a real one this time and for the first time in a long time you felt that persistent knot of tension in your chest loosen. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here.

---

Sebastian pulled his lower lip in between his teeth, flipping his tongue over the hoop on his lip. The pool cue was a welcome weight in his hand as he tried to find his next plan of attack. Sam stood across the table from him, practically vibrating. It was distracting tonight.

That wasn’t normally an issue for Sebastian. He usually could ignore Sam’s inability to sit still. Despite how it never stopped, ever. Yet tonight he wanted to slam his own head into the cue just to stop his eyes from tracking the movement of his friend pacing. Was he moving more than usual tonight? No… it was something wrong with Sebastian.

Maybe it was that he hadn’t heard anything new from his favorite game dev. No updates, no answers about why he hadn’t been at the con when people asked. The game was so close to being finished. It may have been a small indie team but the name, Perish, had grown large enough he could have easily gotten a booth. People had been excited; Sebastian was one of those people.

That game had been keeping him sane lately. He felt like he was still scraping his way toward his future in the city. His savings were only halfway there, especially with how much inflation was rising there. It was oddly inspiring to see such a small indie developer chipping away at a highly anticipated game. It gave him hope, something that was rare for him.

He groaned and stepped back.

“I need a drink,” he glared down at the cue ball that was giving him no answers, he really couldn’t let Sam win.

Sam pursed his lips, “You’re just stalling because I have you on ropes.”

Sebastian snorted out a laugh and waved over his shoulder as he walked out from the game room, “Sure whatever you want to think.”

He made his way to the bar, waiting for Emily to notice, yet she was currently helping two other customers. He narrowed his eyes at them. Henrietta, he recognized, even though it was rare for her to come to the Stardrop. The woman sitting next to her looked familiar but… he couldn’t remember why. The muted colors, the soft curves, and it was just on the tip of his tongue.

Where had he seen you before? He didn’t recognize you from around town. Had it been in Zuzu at some point? From what he could see of you, you were cute. It would be easy for him to remember you on that alone. Especially since your aesthetic wasn’t usually the type he often was drawn to.

He kept rifling through his memories and then you tilted your head, and your face became more visible. He swore his throat closed up and his heart skipped a beat. It was you! The one from the con. You had run and he’d never gotten a chance to get your name let alone your number. He didn’t know exactly why you’d panicked so badly, but he recognized the moment for what it was, sheer terror and anxiety.

You were the one from the café, the one he ran into again, and the one who’d slipped through his fingers twice. How? Why? Why were you here? His body was nearly shaking. He exhaled deeply and schooled his expression, he needed to chill out. He was staring like a creep.

Then your head turned more, and your gaze caught his and Sebastion swallowed when he saw the recognition flash in your pupils. His fingers found his thumb ring, immediately spinning it in the hope of controlling his nerves. He should just go say hi. No, that wasn’t what he did. That would be weird.

You blinked, seeming just as surprised as him. He closed his eyes for a beat, rolled his jaw and then stood. You seemed even more shocked as Sebastian made his way toward you. You weren’t alone, because honestly, he didn’t know why the fuck he was doing this other than he refused to let you disappear again.

His eyes flicked over your face, memorizing the features, the shy smile you gave him. He thought he might have stopped breathing at some point.

“Sebastian?” Henrietta asked. “Need something?”

His attention moved over to her, he didn’t necessarily not get along with her, but he didn’t seek her out. She was brash and sharp and a little too blunt for him to talk to regularly. Yet you seemed close to her. He took in the way you leaned closer to her, your pinky brushed hers as if seeking reassurance, were the two of you together? He hated how his stomach sank at the thought.

“Just coming to get a drink,” he sighed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Emily gasped. “We got caught up in talking about our visitor!”

Emily motioned to you and smiled genuinely.

You ducked your head shyly, “Sebastian, hm?”

The way you said his name, soft and uncertain, had the hairs on his nape prickling. He cleared his throat and nodded to you.

“Good to see you again. I didn’t catch your name last time,” his gaze darted to the side, and he willed himself not to blush.

Your smile curled a little more, became a bit warmer as you introduced yourself, holding out your hand.

“Of all the places to visit, you choose Pelican Town?” he shook his head with a scoff and took your hand.

It was so small in his. No callouses, soft skin, and his mind tried to lead him somewhere it shouldn’t go on the first meeting.

“Well, Etta lives here, and I needed to get out of the city for a bit… clear my head,” you mumbled so quietly he almost didn’t hear you.

But he was so in tune to your answer he managed to pick up the gist. He frowned, so you lived in the city. Why would need to get out of there? What did you mean by clearing your head? There was a hidden meaning to it that you didn’t offer an explanation.

His hand left yours slowly, dragging his fingers down your palm and you shuddered. A slow, languid smirk rippled across his features. His eyes darted between you and Henrietta.

“Be nice to her Sebastian,” Henrietta said warningly. “She’s my best friend.”

Friend. That word echoed in his head, and he pressed his tongue piercing against the roof of his mouth in hopes to control his runaway thoughts.

“Of course,” he said coolly, his gaze dragging over you again.

You squirmed.

Emily looked between you and Sebastian a couple times before she finally said, “What will you have?”

“Whiskey and water. Still gotta beat Sam,” Sebastian shrugged.

He looked at you out of the corner of his eyes. You’d turned back to Henrietta and were chatting much more animatedly. Once the glass was set in front of him, he turned to leave before saying.

“Oh, hey, it was interesting seeing you again,” he said with a smirk before turning.

He’d never met someone who flustered easier than him, and it made something unfurl within him. Something dark and feral that wanted him to see just what he could do to pull out more reactions from you. See more of that bashfulness, see other sides, like the way you looked so comfortable with Henrietta.

His mom would be proud, he’d actually initiated a conversation and he’d said a halfway decent good-bye. ---Taglist--- @queenmimis

#sebastian sdv #stardew valley #sebastian x reader #sebastian x fem reader #fanfiction

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