#I gotta fix him up a little here and there but oh well

[chocmoon-latte]

Anyways, here's a wip of a very stabby mayor 💗🔪

(Please ignore the unserious emojis skjdghskjdgh 😭)

[fatecantstopme]

Spell Bound

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus size!reader

Summary: It's sex pollen...I couldn't help myself.

Warnings: cursing, use of pet names. An excessive amount of heavy SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), rough sex, oral (F receiving), multiple cream pies

"I freaking hate witches," Dean mumbled as he picked the lock on the apartment door.

You chuckled softly, very used to hearing him grumble every time you were hunting a witch.

He slowly walked into the apartment and you followed in after him.

"So what exactly are we looking for?" you asked quietly.

"Big scary magic book. Sam said it's probably on or near some kind of altar."

"Big scary magic book," you muttered under your breath. "Makes perfect sense."

You sighed as you walked into the living room and noticed several bookcases lined with large books. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Dean shot you a weary smile. "Guess it might take a little longer than I thought."

"You think?"

You took one side of the room and Dean took the other. Sam had described the look of the book to the both of you, but there was really no way to be 100% certain if you found it.

About 15 minutes into your perusal, you spotted a large leather-bound book tucked under what appeared to be an altar cloth. You slowly removed the cloth, wary of what you might uncover. The book was almost exactly as Sam had described, so you had a feeling it was the right one.

"I think I found it," you said aloud.

At almost the same exact moment, a crash sounded from behind you and Dean let out a string of curses.

You spun around to see the hunter brushing off some sort of florescent pink dust from his face. "What the hell did you do?"

"I was moving some of the books and this box fell out and some powder just kinda...sprayed my face."

"Seriously?"

He looked sheepish. "I didn't even see it."

You sighed. "Great. God only knows what the hell that was."

He looked at the box carefully, but there was nothing written on it to identify the powdery substance he had inhaled. He gave you another sheepish look and shrugged. "Maybe it's not harmful."

You shot him a stony look. "Dean...it's a witch. It's not gonna be fairy dust."

He sighed, knowing you were right. He started shifting his shoulders a bit as if he was uncomfortable.

"Let's get out of here. I'll call Sam on the way back to the motel and see if he has any idea what it could be."

Dean nodded and followed you out the door. By the time you got outside the building and to the car, he was twitching like an addict in need of a fix.

"Dean?" you asked tentatively.

"My skin feels like it's on fire and--and it's like--itchy. And there's a weird feeling inside that I can't describe, but it doesn't feel nice."

"Okay...how 'bout I drive?"

He looked up at you with concerned eyes, but he handed you the keys and got into the passenger seat. You knew he must really be feeling terrible if he was letting you drive Baby.

You started the car up and pulled out of the parking spot while simultaneously calling Sam on your cell. He answered on the third ring.

"Dean got some sort of witchy powder on his face and now he's...itchy?" you said quickly in lieu of a greeting.

Sam sighed. "What are his symptoms?"

You put the phone on speaker. "Dean, what are your symptoms?"

Dean couldn't look at you and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a growl. "I feel like crawling out of my own skin, everything aches, and I'm having a hard time breathing right. Oh and I can literally smell (Y/N)'s skin, which is totally not normal!"

"You can smell my skin?"

He grumbled under his breath. "I can smell your skin and your shampoo and your goddamn body wash, and I want--fuck. What the hell is wrong with me, Sam?"

"Uh, I honestly don't know. Let me call Bobby and see if he has any ideas."

You set the phone down on the seat beside you. "Maybe you're turning into some kind of animal?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean...you can smell me...which is weird and kind of--animalistic."

"I don't think that's it," he said harshly. "My body is aching in a way I can't even begin to describe to you, but I don't think I'm morphing into anything."

You eyed him carefully, worry etched into your face. He was your closest friend and trusted hunting partner, and you hated seeing him like this. Witches scared the shit out of you...you knew what they were capable of.

"Maybe drive a little faster," he hissed.

You pressed harder on the gas and the Impala shot down the road. When your phone rang, you answered it immediately.

"So I think I might know what it is, but I have something I need to ask Dean first," Sam said.

"Okay." You looked at Dean. "Can you hold the phone? Sam wants to ask you something."

Dean took the phone from your hand, hissing as his skin made contact with yours. "What?" he grumbled.

"This is gonna be awkward, but I need to know, okay? Do you feel--umm--aroused at all?"

Dean was silent for a moment as he let his brother's question sink in. Ohhh fuuuuck, he thought to himself. He glanced down at his jeans and noticed the bulge straining against them. With the intense pain he was experiencing, he hadn't really noticed. "Son of a bitch," he mumbled. "Yeah."

"Okay, well the good news is, I know what it is. It's called sex pollen."

"It's called what?"

"Sex pollen. The name doesn't really matter, but you have all the symptoms. They're only going to get worse until--well until you die."

"Die? Is there a cure?"

You looked over at Dean in terror, your foot pressing down even further on the pedal. Dean's hand was shaking slightly as he put the phone on speaker so you could hear.

"You have to--uhh--well--shit. You have to umm...fuck it out."

"I have to what?"

"Dude, I know, okay? But you don't have a choice. If you don't you'll die a rather painful death."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said again. "Can I, umm, take care of it myself?"

"According to what Bobby read, the only option is actual intercourse with another person."

"How long do I have?"

You were acutely aware of Dean's close proximity to you, and now you understood the nature of his pain. Your own breathing was more labored, but you desperately tried to maintain control of yourself. Don't make it weird, (Y/N), you thought to yourself.

"30 minutes from the time of contact until...until death," Sam answered.

"30 minutes?" you gasped. You started doing the math in your head as Dean continued talking to his brother. "We have maybe 10 more minutes until we get back to the motel and that leaves about 10 until..."

Dean looked over at you, his normally green eyes dark with need. "I'm so fucked," he muttered.

"That doesn't really leave us time to find someone for you to--you know," you said worriedly.

"Shit."

"Might wanna make it fast," Sam said.

"Obviously," Dean snapped. "How long will it take to...get out of my system?"

"That depends," Sam began. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

"Another story?"

"It could take a lot longer."

"Great," you mumbled.

"Sam, don't be there when we get there," Dean growled at his brother before hanging up the phone.

"Dean?" you questioned softly.

"Just drive, (Y/N)."

You continued driving, but your focus was most definitely not on the road. You could hear the heavy breathing and the soft pained sounds coming from the man beside you and it made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. It certainly didn't help that you had wanted him for years and seeing him like this was making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't be feeling.

Dean flirted with you regularly, but he flirted with almost every person he came into contact with. It's just a part of his personality, so you never read into it. While Dean quite obviously adored you (and you him), you were not his type. You were a good fighter, sure, but where you really excelled was research. You were brilliant--almost as knowledgable as Bobby, though you still had plenty to learn. You were also significantly more--voluptuous than the women Dean gravitated to. Soft, chubby, more to love--whatever you wanna call it. As such, you'd never made any sort of move to announce your feelings for him. You didn't want to face his rejection.

"Sweetheart, if you don't speed up, I'm liable to die before we make it there," Dean hissed.

You shot him a look. "We're less than two minutes away, so don't die on me yet, Winchester."

He exhaled sharply and nodded. "I'm not gonna make it either way, (Y/N). Like you said, we don't have enough time to find a, uh--partner."

You took a deep breath. "I can't let you die."

He looked over at you and you felt his gaze boring right into your soul. "I can't do that to you."

"I really don't see how we have much of a choice here."

You pulled into the motel parking lot before he could respond.

"Let's go," you said quickly as you got out of the car and made your way to your room.

Dean was right behind you, so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. As soon as the door was unlocked, Dean was pushing you through it and locking it behind you.

"Shit," he muttered. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"It's okay, Dean," you said softly. "I'm not afraid."

His eyes widened and he grabbed your chin. "You should be...I'm going to lose control."

"It's alright...use me."

He let out a low growl and squeezed your chin tighter. "I--I won't be able to make this good for you."

You pressed yourself against his body, feeling the hard ridges against you. "It's not about me. You need this."

That was all it took for Dean to let go. His lips attacked yours with a hunger you were not expecting despite the intensity of the situation. He was not at all gentle as he tore your clothes from your body, ripping his own off with equal force.

He tossed you down on the bed with shocking ease. He had absolutely no difficulty manhandling you. You weren't sure if it was the sex pollen or just him.

His lips and hands were everywhere, touching every inch of your soft skin he could possibly reach. He needed to be inside of you so badly it was almost impossible to breathe. His skin burned with each touch and his instincts screamed at him to just break you.

He moves his way down your body and you're surprised as he stops just above your core. "Dean, what are you doing?" You knew he needed a release--and soon--or he wasn't gonna make it.

A voice in the back of his mind kept reminding him this was (Y/N), his (Y/N). Even in his current state, he wanted to avoid hurting you if he could. "Need to get you ready," he grunted.

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was devouring your pussy. The sounds he made were incredible, the feeling almost electrifying. He slid two fingers in and moved them in a scissoring motion to help loosen you up.

He was only down there for a 30 seconds before he came up and locked eyes with you. "I can't hold off anymore."

You nodded. "Just let go. I'll be okay."

He knew the moment he slid inside you, he'd be a goner. Whatever tiny amount of self control he'd managed to hang onto would disappear in an instant. But he could also feel the roaring agony inside him and he needed to feed it before it devoured him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against your ear a split second before he sheathed himself fully inside you.

You cried out--pain mixing with pleasure as his large member stretched you in ways you'd never before experienced.

Dean couldn't give you time to adjust--he was too far gone. His hips began to move and his sole focus was on his own pleasure--his own release.

His thrusts were powerful and fast, so much so that your body started to scoot farther up the bed. He grabbed your hips and held you in place, pace never faltering. The sensations were almost painful given his size, but you wouldn't have stopped him even if you could have.

"Fuck, baby--you feel so good," he grunted.

You were more than a little surprised when he spoke--you hadn't pegged him as a dirty talker. Then again, it could very well have been the pollen. The same could be said of the sounds coming from his mouth. You'd never heard such sinful noises and you loved them.

"So tight--squeezing me so good. Feels like heaven."

You squeezed his cock purposefully, making him groan each time you clenched down. He needed his release and you were gonna make sure he got it. Your own enjoyment was far from your mind--this was essentially a transaction--a lifesaving measure. You had to view it that way to protect your heart...at least that's what you told yourself.

"Baby," he moaned. "Imma fill you up--so close."

Despite the voice in your head telling you this wasn't real--that you shouldn't have any emotional attachments--you reached up and touched his face, caressing it lovingly. "Cum for me, Dean," you whispered.

His eyes locked on yours and he bit his lip--hearing you say his name in the heat of the moment was a bigger turn on than he'd ever imagined. It pushed him right over the edge and he spilled inside of you with a grunt.

You lay beneath him, panting despite the minimal exertion on your part. He'd had his orgasm, but he was still moving, much to your surprise. "You're not done--?"

He shook his head. "Need more."

He pulled out and quickly flipped you over with no warning. You instinctively lifted your hips to allow him access, which he took without hesitation. His cock was still throbbing and the need still burned in his veins. His mind remained singularly focused on his relief--his pleasure.

He slammed into your pussy and set a brutal pace, earning a cry of pain from your lips. This new angle allowed him better access, sending his cock deeper inside of you. His head brushed against your cervix with each thrust, a stinging pain accompanying the pleasure.

Dean's large palm came down on your ass with a hard smack, eliciting a gasp of surprise from your lips. Your pussy clamped down on his cock as he landed another slap to your round cheek.

"Fuck baby, you like that don't you?" Smack. "You like it when I slap this sexy ass?" Smack. "Fuck--squeezing me so tight, sweetheart." Smack.

He was right though, you loved it. You always had, but there was something extra enjoyable about having your ass smacked by Dean Fucking Winchester. Even if you couldn't verbally express your pleasure to him, your pussy made it well-known.

Dean's right hand gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush against him as he continued pumping. His left hand trailed up your back until he grabbed a fist full of hair at the base of your neck and pulled. Your head snapped back and you cried out, but you didn't fight him.

"Do you know how badly I've wanted to pull this hair, pretty girl? Fuck--I think about it all the time." His pace was relentless and his hand remained entangled in your hair.

You'd never really noticed him looking at your hair in any particular way, so you assumed once again the pollen was making him say such dirty little things.

After several more thrusts, Dean let go of your hair and pushed down on your upper back, forcing you to press your upper body into the mattress. Dean gripped your hips with both of his hands and slammed into you with an intensity that was unmatched by any of his previous actions.

You had a feeling he was close to another orgasm, at least if his grunts and curses were anything to go by. You clenched down around him again, intent on pushing him past the brink.

It worked like a charm. Dean came with a cry of your name, thrusts continuing as he emptied inside of you once again.

You were exhausted and you hadn't had a single orgasm. Part of you really hoped Dean had gotten it all out of his system, but another part of you didn't want this to end. Even if it wasn't real--even if he didn't actually want to be having sex with you, you liked pretending, if only for a little while.

Dean pulled out of you slowly and rolled you over with a surprising gentleness. You assumed that meant he was satiated and the pollen was out of his system.

When you met his eyes, you were surprised by how brilliantly green they were. You'd almost gotten used to the dark forest color that had taken over as a result of the pollen. He was looking at you with an odd expression you couldn't quite place, but for some reason it made you want to scurry away and hide.

"Better?" you whispered.

He cocked his head to the side and a small smirk played on his lips. "Not even close," he murmured.

His lips met yours in a fiery kiss before you had time to respond. Unlike the previous kisses, this one was more passionate, more intense. It made your body tingle all over and a warmth spread through your veins.

Dean's brain fog had finally cleared enough that he could actually slow down and focus on what was happening--on what he was doing, or rather who. He hated that he'd cum twice without even thinking about you, let alone making you orgasm. Dean prided himself on being an excellent lover and he wasn't about to let you leave this bed unsatisfied.

His cock brushed against your pussy as he shifted to hold you closer. You both inhaled sharply, enjoying the sensation. Dean's lips began to travel down your neck, leaving soft, wet kisses in his wake. He nipped at your pulse point, earning an excited moan from you. He liked hearing that sound, so he sucked on that spot until you were panting heavily beneath him.

His hands traveled over your soft curves, touching and squeezing all the parts of your body you were self-conscious about. Dean didn't seem to give a damn that your stomach wasn't flat, that your hips weren't narrow and your thighs weren't skinny--in fact, he seemed to be reveling in the feeling of softness.

His lips were so gentle as he continued his downward movements. He kissed and licked and sucked on each of your breasts, spending several minutes focusing on each one. "You have such perfect breasts," he murmured.

You were too surprised, and perhaps too lost in pleasure, to formulate any kind of response to his words. Luckily, he didn't seem to need one, and he refocused his attention on you.

Once he was satisfied your breasts had received enough love, he continued moving down your stomach, stopping to place soft kisses to every mark and scar he saw.

When he reached your sweet pussy, he spread your legs as wide as he could and settled down between them. You were surprised at his actions, especially since you knew he was still hard--that he still needed another release.

Dean was now singularly focused on one thing--and that was you. Now that his damn brain was working properly, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this--even if it was a one time thing because you didn't want him to die, he wasn't about to walk away from this without making you scream his name at least once.

He breathed in deeply, smelling your arousal mixed with his own spend, and he smirked. His eyes flicked up to yours and his mouth latched onto your clit, unleashing an overwhelming assault on your swollen mound.

You gasped as the sudden pleasure washed over you. You couldn't take your eyes off the man between your legs--nor did he take his eyes off you. Every time your hips bucked or you tried to move, his strong arms held you in place so he could continue to watch you.

You were writhing against the sheets in what felt like seconds--it was probably longer, but either way you felt embarrassed at how quickly you fell apart under his touch. Your orgasm tore through you like a hurricane, broken moans dripping from your lips.

To your shock, and perhaps concern, Dean didn't stop his assault on your pussy. Even as you tried to squirm away, he held you in place, desperate to give you another orgasm. You whimpered that it was too much, begged him to give you a break, but all of those words quickly morphed into pleas to keep going--don't stop.

"Dean," you gasped as your fingers slipped into his hair, grabbing hold of the short locks by the roots. Your nails scrapped lightly against his scalp and he let out a soft groan.

His tongue seemed to dance across your clit, creating beautiful designs and languages only he seemed to know. He paid attention to what motions made you quiver, which ones made you moan, and which ones had you tugging on his hair with an iron grip.

"Dean, please--I--so close," you moaned.

He smiled, enjoying the immense pleasure he was giving you just as much as you seemed to enjoy it. A few moments later, you were once again coming apart against his mouth and he eagerly lapped up everything you had to give him.

This time as you tugged on his hair and squirmed away, he obliged, lifting himself up from between your thighs. He licked his lips as he looked down at your blissed out face.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he murmured. "Wanna taste?"

Your pretty (y/e/c) eyes widened and you nodded hesitantly. He smiled wolfishly as he leaned down to kiss you, tongue invading your mouth almost instantly, allowing you to taste yourself.

You moaned into the kiss and he held you even more tightly, lips sealed to yours like he needed your air to breathe.

He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to control his urges long enough to coax two orgasms from you, but he could feel that control waning. "I need you, baby," he whispered against your lips. "I need you so badly."

You looked up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. You lifted your hips to brush against his cock and he groaned at the contact. You nipped at his jaw and pulled him back down to you. "Fuck me, Dean. Please."

He groaned. "Yes ma'am."

He didn't hesitate as he gripped his cock firmly and lined it up with your entrance. He slipped inside easily, having plenty of lubrication to assist him. Despite having been inside of you multiple times at this point, he was still taken aback by how fucking incredible you felt.

"God, I love this pussy," he murmured. "She was made for me."

You moaned softly at his words and the feeling of him inside you once again. As he started to move, he was much more gentle and you found yourself enjoying the sensations--perhaps more than you should.

"You're so good for me, (Y/N)," Dean mumbled, already lost in the feeling of you.

You would have given anything to hear him say that, but the words broke your heart a little. Had he had any other choice, he likely wouldn't be here right now--you wouldn't be the one he was fucking.

"Hey," he whispered, a rough, calloused hand running along your cheek as he looked at you. "Where's that pretty little head at?"

You smiled at him. "Right here, Dean."

Somewhere inside of him, he knew you were lying, but the damn pollen was still affecting his senses. He accepted your response and went back to his actions, focusing on the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock like a vise.

He wanted to feel you cum one more time...wanted to feel the way you'd squeeze his cock as you came. He wanted to watch you come undone beneath him, lost in pleasure he gave you.

He grabbed a pillow and gently lifted your hips, sliding the pillow under them. This provided him a new, improved angle, allowing him to cage you beneath him and hit that sweet spot inside you.

"Dean!" you gasped as the first thrust hit your g-spot.

He grinned and picked up his pace, slamming into it repeatedly. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge of an orgasm you knew would ruin you. Dean Winchester already made you feel things no other man ever had and his ability in bed was no exception. Damn him.

His thrusts were firm and measured, each one sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through your body. The familiar tightening in your gut was so intense you thought you might actually explode.

Dean's strong arms were on either side of your head and he was looking down at you with that same strange expression from earlier. "You're so damn beautiful, baby. I wanna watch this pretty face as you cum for me."

You gasped, unprepared for the way his words made you feel. You felt emboldened, so you asked for what you needed. "I need more, Dean."

His hand slipped between your bodies, a single finger gently massaging your clit as he continued to fuck you. "That better, baby?"

You nodded rapidly, earning a soft chuckle from his sweet lips.

"You gonna cum for me beautiful?"

You nodded again.

"Yeah? I want you to keep those pretty eyes open when you cum, okay? Wanna see you fall apart."

"Dean..." you whispered.

"I know, sweet girl. I've got you."

Your brain seemed to short-circuit in that moment. All you could feel was a blinding hot pressure immediately followed by an intense euphoria. You heard someone scream "Dean!" and you belatedly realized it had been your voice.

The intensity of your orgasm sent Dean spiraling over the edge of his own. He hadn't even been prepared for it--the mixture of you screaming his name and the sensations of you squeezing him so tightly and the gorgeous way your face contorted as you came was all he needed.

He emptied into you a third and final time, his cock finally beginning to soften as he helped you ride out your high.

He pulled out and flopped down beside you on the bed, his body aching from what had to be some of the best sex of his life--sex pollen or not.

You were just as sore as Dean--probably more so given you literally couldn't move. The two of you laid there in silence, slowly coming down from the electrical highs you'd experienced, both trying to catch your breath for the first time in what felt like hours.

Dean was the first to recover. "Did I hurt you?" he asked so softly you almost didn't hear him.

You turned your head to look at him and your heart clenched at the expression on his face. He was genuinely worried, brows furrowed in concern. You contemplated lying to him, but you knew he'd see right through you.

"A little," you said honestly.

He winced and his beautiful eyes closed. "I'm so sorry, (Y/N)--I would never hurt you on purpose--ever."

You offered him a small smile he couldn't see, until your hand touched his cheek and he opened his eyes again. "I know."

There were a thousand other things you wanted to say--a thousand words you wanted to string together into just the right sentences, but you couldn't. You wouldn't put yourself through it.

"Shower?" he asked softly.

"I honestly don't think I can stand."

A smirk played on his lips. "That should not make me feel so damn good."

You laughed lightly, glad to hear the teasing tone in his voice that you loved so much.

He managed to pull himself into a sitting position. "It's not ideal, but there is a bathtub..." he trailed off.

"I wouldn't mind a bath," you admitted.

He nodded and got to his feet. He was a little unsteady at first, but managed to make his way to the bathroom. You heard the water running as he filled up the tub.

You laid there thinking about everything that had just happened. This was a position you'd never imagined you'd be in--with anyone, let alone Dean Winchester.

You knew this wasn't something you were going to be able to forget about, but you hoped things would go back to normal between the two of you and eventually this would just be a funny story.

Suddenly, Sam's words from earlier snapped into your mind. "If it's meaningless, one and done. If it's someone you care about...that's another story."

One and done...one and done. This most definitely had not been a 'one and done' scenario. But didn't that mean...? No. No way. Impossible. Dean Winchester does NOT have feelings for you.

You began to rationalize your thought process. Maybe "care about" included a friendly relationship. Yeah...yeah that made the most sense. Of course Dean cares about you. You're his best friend. There couldn't possibly be anything more to it...right?

As if on cue, Dean stepped back into the room. "Bath's ready."

"Okay." You tried to pull yourself up, but you immediately fell back against the mattress, body too worn out to sustain any kind of movement.

Dean chuckled lightly and came up to the side of the bed. He pulled the pillow out from under your hips and slipped his arms under your body, hoisting you up bridal style.

"Jesus!" you yelled. "Put me down! I'm too heavy--you'll throw out your back."

Dean laughed. "Calm down, (Y/N). I just threw you around this bed repeatedly with zero issues. I promise I can carry you to the bathroom without dying."

"But--"

He glared at you and tightened his grip on you as if to prove his point. "Ain't a damn thing wrong with your body, so shut it."

Your mouth closed immediately. His words sent a jolt directly to your core and you were almost annoyed by it. As if three orgasms wasn't enough...

Dean very gently set you on your feet in the bathroom and slowly helped you into the tub. As soon as he got you into a seated position, he got into the tub as well, slipping in behind you.

"Umm...whatcha doing?"

"Taking a bath."

"Isn't the tub a bit small for both of us?"

You could feel him shrug behind you. "I think it's perfect size. Now come here." He grabbed your shoulders and gently pulled you back so you were laying against his chest. "That's better," he muttered.

Your mind began to race once again as you laid there, body tense and uncomfortable.

"Okay, (Y/N), I know you better than anyone, so don't you dare lie to me. Where's your head at?"

"I--" you sighed. "I'm not really sure how to feel."

He nodded. "I know you didn't want this--I feel like I had to literally force myself onto you and I hate that. I know you only agreed so I wouldn't die, but--"

"Woah--stop." You sat up and turned your head to face him. "That's not true at all. You didn't force me to do anything."

"Okay, maybe 'force' is the wrong word...but you did have sex with me to save my life. Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"I'm painfully aware," you muttered.

He ran his hand over his face. "I'm not saying any of this right."

"Then what are you trying to say?"

He bit his lip. "Remember what Sammy said? About...how long the effects would last?"

You nodded.

"Well in case you didn't notice, I had three orgasms."

"Both me and my very sore vagina noticed," you said lightly.

He sighed. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, (Y/N)?"

You turned a little more so you could see his face better. He had that same look he'd had when he was making you feel incredible. "I need to hear you say it..." you whispered.

He nodded and leaned forward so his face was mere inches from yours. "He didn't mean 'care' as in 'we're friends, so I care about you'...he meant 'care' as in 'love'."

Your lips parted and you inhaled sharply.

"So you see, I don't just care about you as a friend...and I don't just love you as a friend...I'm in love with you."

"You--you love me?"

"In love," he repeated. "For as long as I can remember."

"You're in love--with me?"

He chuckled softly. "Who else would I be talking to, baby? Yes, I'm in love with you."

"I--I don't know--" you stuttered.

"The only thing you need to know is how you feel. Do you know how you feel about me, (Y/N)?" he whispered.

You nodded slowly.

"And?"

"I'm in love with you too."

He grinned widely. "Yeah?"

You nodded, cheeks turning red.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you back against him. He looked down at you with that expression he'd been wearing and you suddenly realized what it was...it was love--real, true, beautiful, heart aching love.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your lips, which you returned in kind. He held you tightly, loving the feeling of your body in his arms.

"We better get cleaned up before this water gets cold," he said softly, lips pressing to your hair.

"Mhmm," you hummed.

He chuckled. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me, babe."

"But I'm comfortable," you whined.

He smiled against your cheek. "Give me five minutes to clean you up and then we can sleep, okay?"

You looked over at him and smiled. "Deal."

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[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Try Me

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: suggestive

"Lan, c'mon..please don't go." You whined tightening your grip on Lando's shirt. "Stay with me"

"Baby, I want to, believe me, I do, but I told you I promised your brother to go out with him tonight. Why don't you come along with us?" He asked holding your cheeks between his hands and leaving a kiss on the tip of your nose.

"Because I want to spend some time alone with you. Why can't he go out with Charles or anyone else?"

"Charles is not feeling well, and besides, it will be suspicious if I turn him down for the second time today." He explained trying to get some sense into you, but you just decided to be a brat today because, well, you just felt like it. You wanted his attention. You needed his attention.

"Fine. Go with him then. I don't care." You pouted crossing your arms and turning your gaze away from him.

"Y/n.." He sighed turning your chin with his finger making you look at him. "I'm trying my best to spend as much time as possible with you here. If Carlos knew I spent the whole day with his sister in her hotel room I'd probably be a dead man right now. So if you want me alive, you gotta let me go now okay?"

Everything Lando said made sense. It's true that Carlos would haunt Lando for the rest of his life if he knew that he had been seeing his 5 years younger sister for over 6 months now. It's also true that Lando is a bit torn between the two of you. He doesn't want any trouble with his best friend, but he also doesn't want to even think about having to stop seeing you.

Lando and you were not in a relationship, well, not officially, you didn't call it a relationship because you were forbidden to him. You had been seeing each other for half a year and both of you knew that there was something more between you, more than just sex although you never put a label on it. The more time passed the more you liked each other and wanted to spend more time together so it got harder to keep it a secret.

"Give me a kiss" He said leaning down to your lips. You hesitate for a second, but give in rolling your eyes which Lando doesn't take very well. "No, no, don't do that."

You ignore him and head towards the bathroom not wanting to wait until he leaves your room. You just wanted to show your dissatisfaction with all your might.

"I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Whatever" You muttered before slamming the bathroom door shut.

Later that night, Lando was texting you just to check up on you, to see what you're doing, to see how you're spending your time without him and you decided to continue being a brat for the rest of the night. Because you just felt like it today.

'Just took a shower. Think I'm gonna go check up on Charles since he's not feeling well'

You replied smirking knowing that you mentioning Charles would completely push his buttons with you tonight. Ever since Carlos introduced you to them, both Charles and Lando have been trying to flirt with you. Only Charles has been doing it directly and Lando was more subtle with it. Lando was always more mysterious about it, that's probably the reason why you were attracted to him and not Charles.

So ever since he got his eyes on you, he hated that Charles was trying to get your attention. He hated that he was still doing it and yet he couldn't do anything about it because you two were a well kept secret.

'Oh really? Carlos and I saw him. He's just fine so you don't have to do that.'

He was replying back to your messages within seconds. You knew he was going crazy about it.

'Well, I'm gonna go check anyway'

Of course you weren't gonna go. You were all ready for bed, but since you didn't get what you wanted tonight, you decided to play with his head a little.

'Y/n..You have nothing to look for in his room'

'I mean it's not like I have a boyfriend if you really think about it. So..I don't think it would be inappropriate, no? '

'I can hear the attitude through the text. Fix it, before I fuck it out of you.'

His text sent shivers through your body. You threw your head back against your pillow sighing and reminiscing the way this morning the bed was squeaking beneath you two.

'I don't think you're gonna do anything about it'

'Oh, try me then'

[samandcolbyownme]

Summary: anon request - "Can u make a colby one where him y/n Kat and Sam are live and y/n and Colby are drunk it can be fluff or smut Idc"

Warnings: strong language, alcohol consumption, heavy flirting, sexual innuendos, sexual tension between reader and Colby, drunk actions, fluff with a dash of filth containing fingering, handjob, sensual stuff but hottt

Word count: 4.9k | somewhat edited I don’t really know if I like this one all that much… I might rewrite it after I get more requests out.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

"I can't believe you talked me into doing this." You look at Kat in your mirror as you rummage through your clothes.

She laughs, "Oh come on. There will be alcohol so you can just relax, drink and hang out."

"You had me at alcohol." You laugh and hold your a top, "Hows this?" She tilts her head and purses her lips, "mm. It's cute, but I think you need something different."

"Is that what you're wearing?" You point to her outfit and she nods, "Yes." You hold your hand up, "Hang on."

You walk out to your living room, grabbing a box of clothes that you got sent, "There might be something.." you dump the box, ".. in here."

"Oh yeah. Most definitely." Kat nods with a laugh as she goes through the clothes, "Ooh, this. Definitely this."

Your eyes move over the black, lacey tank top that's in her hands, "A cute skirt or a pair of jeans will make this so much better." She adds and tosses it to you.

You catch it and nod, "I'll try it on."

"Well hurry up, we have to be at Sam and Colby's in the next hour." She lays back, scrolling on her phone as you change.

"Did you say Colby?" You walk out slowly and she smiles up at you, "I did.."

"He's doing this livestream with us?" You fix the tank top so it sits right, "Is this some sort of set up by you and Sam?"

She sits up with a sigh, "You got us." She raises her hands, "I think it'll be fun. Plus we'll be live, so it's not like anything crazy can happen.

You drop your hands and they slam on your thighs, "have you seen your livestreams?"

She holds her hands up, "it wasn't my idea. It was Sam's." You scoff, trying not to laugh, "But you went with it."

"If it makes you feel any better, it'll be just you and me at first. Sam offered for him and Colby to join us once they got back from meeting someone about a place they're going next week. Also. Speaking of. We're going with them."

You groan and turn to look in the mirror, "Fine." You smirk at her in the mirror, "But only because you're going."

"Whatever you say, y/n." She rolls her eyes and laughs, "Now come on. We gotta get going. I tweeted that we'll be on by six and it's almost five thirty."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

"Ready?" Kat looks over at you and you fix yourself in the screen of the computer, "Okay, yes now I'm ready."

You lean back in your chair and watch as she starts, waiting for people to join, "Hi guys! How are you?"

"Hey!" You smile and hold up your hand, reading the comments that are starting to flow in, "Oh thanks. Kat actually dressed me tonight. So tell her."

You laugh and look over at her. She smiles, "Yeah, I'll take credit for that because you look.." she licks the tip of her finger and lays it on your arm, "Tsss."

You laugh as she makes a sizzling sound, "I do. I do."

"Alright. So Sam and Colby will be joining us a little later, but for right now. I figured y/n and I could start off with a little game."

"Oh god." You mumble and watch as she puts a bottle of alcohol and two shot glasses on the stand in front of you two, "Oh no." You laugh and look over at her, "What game do you have planned?"

"Just a little.. do or drink." She smirks, "Nothing bad I promise." She pulls out a small box containing cards and opens it, "Alright. You want to go first?"

You sigh, "You know what? I will." You laugh and pull out a card, "Hmm. Okay." You turn to her in your chair and look up at her, "what is one thing.. you dislike about me?"

"Oh gosh." She blinks as she thinks for a moment, "Honestly, I hate the way that you can just roll out of bed and look good."

You smile and bat the air, "Stop it."

She laughs, "I'm serious. You're just that pretty."

"Well thank you." You laugh slightly and motion towards the box, "Pick your poison."

She reaches up, picking one of the cards, "Ooh my god." She giggles and lays the card over her lips. You lean forward, "Oh no. What is it?"

She smirks, "Send 'can't wait to see you' to the last person you texted or drink."

You pull your phone out, and go to your messages, looking at the threads, "The last person I texted was.." you laugh slightly, "Katrina."

"Who is it?" She wheels herself over and leans around to look at your phone, "Oh. You have to. You freaking have to, y/n."

You bite your lip as you tap on Colby's name, Can't wait to see you.

You lean forward after locking your phone and read the comments on the screen, "Sorry guys. That's a secret." You laugh and lean back, looking up at Kat when your phone goes off.

She motions for you to read it and you can't help but laugh, "They said, are you and Kat playing that stupid drinking game?" You shake your head as you type back, maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm excited to see you.

"Y/n. Damn. You're not even drunk yet." Kat looks at you shocked and you shrug, "Oops." You smile and reach up to pull a card, "Name a couple that you think should break up."

Without any hesitation she pours a shot, "I cant pick just one.." she laughs and takes the shot, instantly chasing it with her water, "Oh gross."

She grabs another card and smirks, "Y/n."

You tilt your head, "Kat."

"Out of.. let's say, me, Sam, and Colby, who is your favorite?" She smirks and you sigh, "I know I'm going to hurt feelings with this one.." you pause and look into the camera then back to Kat, "..pour me a shot."

"Are you not going to answer?" She laughs and you shake your head, "No because it'll hurt their feelings when I say you." You laugh and she throws her head back laughing, "Oh my god. That's great."

You read the comments and see that people are debating on whether it's Colby, even from the previous question.

"Oh god." You groan and take your shot, cringing at the taste, "That's so gross."

She leans in, whispering quietly, "We're you going to say Colby?" You smirk and lean back, looking at her as you nod.

"Ha. I know who her favorite is." She says in a sing song-y tone before she laughs, "It's still me."

You laugh and grab a card, "Katrina. Who was the last person that seen you cry?"

"Like, a sad cry or happy cry?" She asks and you shrug, "Just in general I think." She hums, "Probably... Sam, I think. Or you. I'm with you both so much."

"We might as well just live together at this point." You laugh and she nods, "Honestly. Okay.." she grabs a card and clears her throat, "Have you ever been to a strip club?"

"Like working or visiting?" You try to not smile but fail, "I'm joking you guys. Relax. No I haven't ever been to a strip club."

"I can see it." Kat laughs and you gasp, "Hey." She lays a hand on your knee, "If it makes you feel any better you'd definitely have a big client list, and I know who number one would be." She winks and tries not to laugh so she covers her mouth, "I'm sorry."

You laugh, "oh my god. I need more alcohol for this." You get up, "I'm going to get a white claw, do you-"

"Yes." She cuts you off and points, "Please."

You give her a thumbs up, "I'll be right back." You quickly make your way down the steps and into the kitchen. You open the fridge and grab as many white claws as you can carry.

Colby's voice makes you jump, "Thirsty or something?"

"Goddam it, Colby. I didn't hear you guys come in." You laugh slightly and he walks over, offering to help, "I'm heading up there now, I can take some of these for you."

"Okay." You hand him a couple and look up at him, "Thank you." He smirks, "So.. did you mean to text me earl-"

"I have to get back to Kat." You cut him off, "We can talk about this later." You smirk slightly as you walk away and Colby follows you, "Oh we definitely will be talking about a lot later I can guarantee that."

His words make your cheeks red and warm as you walk into the room Sam and Kat are in, "Out of my chair, Golbach."

You kick it and he spins around, "Excuse me?"

You smirk and hand him a drink, "Now move." He laughs and gets up, moving to sit behind Kat in the beanbag chair. Colby next to him, behind you.

You hand Kat her drink and you both crack one open, cheersing before you each take a sip.

"What the hell. You guys are like.. that was so in sync." Sam shakes his head looking between you and Kat.

You laugh, "That's what happens when you're best friends for this long." Kat tilts her drink towards you, "Correct. Okay. Now where were we?"

"My turn to ask you or one of the boys a question." You smirk as you pick up the card, "Ooh. Colby." You spin your chair towards him, hiding the card so he can't see it, "what's the last thing you googled?"

"Oh snap. Um. Can I look?" He asks pulling his phone out and you nod, "Yes, but you have to show us."

His mouth drops slightly before he sighs, "Fine, I have no shame around you guys anyway." He unlocks his phone and laughs, "oh my god. I totally forgot that I even searched this.." he turns his phone around, showing you and Kat, "I googled if dogs can understand me."

Sam laughs loudly, "Are you serious?" He grabs the phone and starts laughing again, "Oh my god, Colby!"

You and Kat are laughing in your chairs and Colby sighs, "It's a valid question, damn." He reaches up between you and Kat, kinda close to you.

You chew on the inside of your lip as you smell his cologne. It's the same one you got him for Christmas a few months ago.

He moves back and sighs, "Alright. Sam. This one is for you." He turns towards Sam, "What is the most embarrassing things you have ever done?"

Sam sighs, "twerking on that cruise."

You and Kat look at each other and laugh, "Oh my god." You look at Sam, "I forgot about that."

Sam chugs some of his drunk, "Yeah, I haven't." He laughs and leans forward, giving Kat a kiss on the cheek as he reaches for a card.

You glance up at the screen, looking at Colby through the camera, and he smiles at you, looking away, "who's it for?"

Sam laughs slightly, "y/n. What's the dirtiest text you ever sent to someone?"

Colby clears his throat, "Yeah, y/n. What's the dirtiest text you've ever sent to someone." He shrugs as he smirks and you lean up, pouring yourself a shot and taking it.

You wash it down with your drink and sigh, "That's for me to know and no one else to find out."

You grab a card, laughing slightly as you look at Kat, "Katrina. If you had to kiss someone who isn't your boyfriend, who would it be?"

She shrugs and laughs slightly, "That's easy."

Sam leans forward, "Oh is it?"

She looks at Sam, laughing as she points to you, "Y/n."

He raises his eyebrows, "Huh. Not where I thought that was going."

"Prove it. Prove it. Prove it." Colby chants quietly behind you guys and you look at him, "Maybe when I'm a little bit more drunk."

He chuckles, "Mhm."

Kat picks up a card, glancing at Sam before taking a deep breath, "y/n. What's your biggest turn off?"

You suck air between your teeth, "Probably insecurity. Like..for example.." you shift around in your seat, "..if I wanted to wear this out to a bar or something, who ever I'm with shouldn't get mad at me for it you know?"

Kat nods, "Oh hell yeah, girl. Like who ever you're with.." she glances to Colby and smirks, "They should know that you're only looking good for them. Not fight with you about it."

"Exactly. Yes." You can feel the alcohol settling in, along with Kat because you're both super giggly.

You pick up a card and read it. You can tell Colby is staring at you, you can feel it.

So you turn to him with a smile, "Colby."

"Y/n." He smiles and tilts his head as he brings his drink up to his lips.

"This is actually an easy one. Take three shots or quit playing." You watch as he nods, "Give me three shots."

One by one, you pour him shots into your shot glass and hand them to him.

"Still got it." He laughs and points, "Hand me a card please." You reach up, grabbing a card and handing it to him.

He leans back, "Kat. What is the biggest secret you kept from your parents growing up?"

She sighs, "oh no." You lean forward, "Oh Katrina. Do tell." You rest your elbow on your knee, chin in your palm and she sighs, "I was somewhere I wasn't supposed to be. I was to be at my friend Lauren's house but we were at a party in some persons basement.. drinking."

You bat the air, "Oh we've all done that."

"Really? You partied when you weren't supposed to?" Colby laughs, "I don't believe that." You roll your eyes and stand up, "Pause. I have to pee."

Kat laughs, "Enjoy your pee."

"You guys are drunk." Sam says, and you can tell he's moving to your chair.

You go to the bathroom, looking at yourself in the mirror. You take a deep breath, but you can't help but giggle as you think about Colby.

His hand around his drink when it really should be around your neck.

His rings pressing against your skin in all the right ways.

His lips, dragging up and down the skin or your neck.

You bite your lip, laughing slightly as you shake your head, pushing the thoughts out to do your business.

Once you're done, you make your way back to the room and take Sam's spot. You sit down, and they all look at you.

"What?" You ask pointing to your drink. Kat hands it to you and she shakes her head, "Nothing. We were just waiting for you." She laughs and hands you a card.

You read your card to yourself, smirking as you look at Colby, "What is your least favorite thing about me?"

Sam gives a low, "Oooh shit."

"Bold." Kat whispers and you can tell she's secretly cheering you on. She crosses her leg over the other, staring intently between you and Colby, "Well? Colby. Are you going to answer or.."

He smirks and shakes his head, "I'll say it. But I'm not saying it for everyone to hear."

Your heart rate picks up as you perk up, unsure if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"Where's the fun in that?" Sam groans, "Say it. Say it. Say it."

Colby reaches over, grabbing your arm to pull you over to him. You lean into him naturally and he rests his cheek against yours, whispering as quiet as possible, "The only thing I don't like about you, is the fact that you're not mine."

He slowly leans away, smirking at you as you look at him, "Really?"

He nods, "Yeah, it's real annoying, actually."

You look down as you try not to smile, but you fail so you cover it with taking a sip of your drink.

"What did he say?" Kat leans forward, almost falling off her chair but your laughing distracts everyone until Sam yells, "Colby!" He hands him a card, "your turn, brother."

Colby takes it, nodding as he laughs slightly, "this one is for both of the girls."

You and Kat look at each other, "Oh no."

"The girls must take three shots in a row, or quit playing." Colby tosses the card down and looks between you and Kat.

"Give me the glass." You hold your hand out and Colby gently places it in your hand, he still had it from when he took his three.

Sam pours both, you and Kat's shots and you clink the small glasses each time before taking the shots, laughing as you finish the third.

"They're about to be fucked up." Sam laughs and Colby shakes his head, "Yeah, yeah they are." He looks to you, winking as you lean back in the chair, "Kat, you can go."

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

At this point, you all are feeling pretty damn good. If you stood up, you feel like you could fall over, but you had no issue moving closer to Colby.

The drunker you got, the more you wanted to be with  him. Next to him. Anything.

Kat and Sam are talking, reading the comments and laughing together as you and Colby have a quiet conversation behind them.

"Did you mean what you texted me earlier?" He whispers leaning in and you nod, "yeah..yeah. I did actually." You look up at him with a smile, "if I'm be-"

"Y/n!" Kat yells your name and you look over at her, "What?!"

She laughs, "Tell them.. tell them about when we went to the mall and that lady who walked into us."

Your eyes go wide, "Oh my god." You start to laugh, "We were walking out of the one store and this lady ran into us, started bitching that we needed to watch where we were going and not even ten seconds later, fucking walks right into the one sign." You laugh with Kat, "Fucking smacks her face and spills her coffee all over her white dress. Ah. It was hilarious."

Colby stares at you, smiling as he admires how pretty you are when you laugh, "She sounds like she deserved it."

You look at him, leaning over as you nod, "Oh yeah. Totally deserved it."

Colby leans in, whispering in your ear, "You know you're so pretty when you laugh." He leans back and smiles at you.

You roll your eyes and lean over, laying a hand on his knee as you support your weight to put your lips next to his ear, "I'd look even prettier under you."

You were way past feeling bold.

He laughs slightly, taken aback by what you said, "Really?"

He spoke loud enough to catch Sam and Kat's attention and he looks up at them. You look up at them and start laughing, "Oh my god."

"Wanna share with the rest of the class?" Sam laughs and you shake your head, "No not really."

Colby leans over, resting his head on your shoulder, "We're just having our own little convo back here so mind ya biz." He laughs and you laugh, resting a hand on his head as you lean into him more.

Colby moves his head up to kiss your neck and you giggle, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Whoooaaaa colbyyyyy!" Sam drags out his yell, "Whoa whoa whoa."

Kat's mouth is open, staring as Colby leans up, "Oh stop it. How can you not look at her."

"Colby." You lean over, "You're drunk."

He leans in, close to your face, "So are you."

"So are we." Kat laughs as she leans forward, resting her head on Sam's leg, "This is so much fun though." She sits up, "We should play a game. Just one more game."

"Ooh, I'm down for another game." You bite your lip and nod, "Whatcha got in mind?"

"Most likely? The person that everyone votes. Drinks." Kat smirks, "Please."

"Only because you're so pretty." Sam reaches over squeezing her chin and she smiles, "Alright. Sam you start."

He chuckles, "Alright.. uhh.. let's see.." he snaps, "who's most likely to accidentally find a portal to another dimension?"

Instantly everyone points to Sam, laughing.

"Wh- oh come on." He groans, "Why me?"

"Because you're always going off on your own when we're doing investigations, Sam." Colby laughs and Sam sighs, taking the shot from Kat, "I walked into that one."

"Yeah, just like you will a portal." You mumble and fall over onto Colby's lap as you laugh.

Sam glares at you and Kat pats his leg, "She said what we're all thinking." She sighs, "Okay. I'll go." She leans back in her chair, "Who's most likely to get a random tattoo on a night out?"

Colby points to you while the rest of you point to him and he scoffs, "What the hell?"

"I honestly think I would, so I'll take a shot with you." You smile and take the glass, holding it up for Kat to pour you and Colby a shot.

He smiles, "Aw how sweet of you."

"You have no idea." You mumble as you cheers him, taking the shot like nothing, "Alright. I'll go." You set your glass down, biting your lip as you think.

You laugh slightly as you sigh, "Who's most likely to have handcuffs in the bedroom." You raise your eyebrows and smirk, "one.. two.. three."

You and Sam point to Colby and Kat and Colby point to Sam.

Sam and Colby look at each other and start laughing. Kat turns to you, "They have matching ones." You look at Colby, "Do you?"

He shrugs, "Maybe." His eyes move to you as his bottom lip pulls between his teeth. You raise an eyebrow, "Mm."

Colby leans back, "Who's most likely to lose their clothes on a night out?" His eyes move to you and everyone is pointing to you.

"Huh!? Why me?" You point to yourself, "I don't lo-"

"Yes you do. Last weekend you lost your coat and one of your shoes." Kat laughs, "I'm not judging but it would be you."

You laugh, "Okay. Okay. That- it was a coat and a shoe." You argue, "But fine. I'll take it."

"When you lose it here at least you'll know where to find it." Sam mumbles and you about spit out your shot, "Shut it, Golbach."

He laughs and shrugs, nodding to Colby, "I'm just saying."

Kat looks at the screen and taps Sam, "They want to know what you said."

"No." You say quickly, "It's fine." You laugh and rest your head back, "who's most likely to have a new ghost up their ass each week." You lift your head and look at Sam, "Hmm?"

"That is so.. that's so not true." He huffs, trying not to laugh. You tilt your head, "Oh yeah? Then why does everyone you do an investigation with say you're the one they'll go for?"

"You know what?" Sam sets his drink down on the desk and turns, staring at you while Colby and Kat are dying with laughter over you and Sam arguing, "Who's most likely to.." he pauses, trying to think of something, but just sighs, "I got nothing."

"Ha! Suck it." You laugh and sigh, "I need to lay down. Those shots are kicking my ass." You stand up, holding onto the back of Kat's chair, "Goodnight party people, y/n is tapping out."

"Night!" Kat yells before yawning, "Yeah I might.. I might be done too."

You walk out, hoping Colby follows you, but you can still hear him talking to Sam and Kat.

You bite your lip, making your way into his room, shutting the door quickly behind you. You turn, eyes scanning over his room as you walk over to his bed, unbuttoning your jeans.

You walk over to his dresser, grabbing one of his shirts and walking over to the bed. You toss it down, stripping down to just your panties before sliding his shirt over your head.

You move the blankets, sitting down and swinging your legs onto the bed before covering up. You move around, getting comfy before you take a selfie and send it to Colby.

You lay your phone down, turning away from the door as you hear footsteps coming closer. His door opens quietly and you bite your lip, not moving.

You feel the bed dip down next to you and you feel a hand lay on your waist, "Whatcha doin' in here, pretty girl?"

You slowly roll over onto your back, "Your bed is comfier than the one in the guest room."

"Is that so?" He brushes hair from your face, "You can sleep here anytime you want."

"I plan on it." You smile as you giggle and he tilts his head, "Yeah?"

You nod, "Oh yeah." You lay a hand on his, slowly dragging it up and down his arm, "So you really weren't the last person I texted.."

He furrows his brows, "Huh?"

"Kat was the last person I texted, but I wanted to text you so I just said you were." You look up at him and he smirks, "you're so pretty."

His thumb brushes against your cheek, "What made you change your mind?"

You let out a sigh, "I'm happy when I think about you. When I'm with you. Talking about you." You shrug, "You make me happy. I was just too stu-"

He cuts you off with his lips on yours.

He leans back slightly, "You're not stupid."

You laugh slightly, "If I wasn't we would have been to-"

"Don't. You had your reasons and now we're here." He turns your head to look at him, "Drunk in my bed.." he kisses your cheek, "Speaking those sober thoughts."

You laugh slightly, laying a hand on his cheek, "Mhm."

He turns his head, kissing the palm of your hand, "You have no idea how many times I've wanted to just come pick you up and bring you to my bed."

You bite your lip, "really?"

"Not even for sex or anything.. I mean, yeah.." he laughs slightly, "I've thought about you in so many ways, but mainly just to be with you. Holding you." His hand slides down your body, slipping under the covers, "Tell me to stop and I will."

"Don't." You say quickly and spread your legs, "Please don't."

He leans in, kissing down your neck, "Tell me what you want, babe."

"You." You whisper and look up at him, "I want you."

He slips his hand into the band of your panties, "I've dreamed of hearing those words."

You whimper slightly as his fingers press down to your clit, "Colby.." you moan quietly as he draws small circles.

"You're all I think about." He gently bites down on your jaw, "I swear, you've taken over my life but in the best way."

You turn your head, crashing your lips onto his, making out slow as he slowly slides his fingers down, dipping them inside of you

You dig your nails into his arm, arching your back as you pull yourself closer to him. You slip your hand down and slip them into his sweats.

He groans lowly as you stroke him, “That feel good?” His voice is low against your lips, “Tell me.”

“So, so good, Colby.” You squeeze his fingers, whimpering as you feel yourself growing closer to the edge, “Fuck..”

“Your sounds are so beautiful.” He leans back, moaning as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, watching as your face scrunches and your eyes flutter shut.

“I-I need you..” you whimper, squeezing your hand around his cock, “Please.”

“Let’s just take it slow, babe. We’ll get to that.” He kisses your lips, “I promise.”

You nod, tilting your head back as you moan, “Fuck, fuck.”

“Cum for me, pretty girl.” Colby rests his forehead against your temple, “You’re so close.”

You turn your head, looking over at him. He presses his lips to yours, moaning against them as you continue to slowly stroke his cock, “C-Colby.”

“All about you baby. I’m okay.” He speeds the thrusts of his fingers up, watching as you squirm under him, “Come on, pretty girl. You can do it.”

His words egged you to cum more, “Fuck.” You whimper and the knot that’s been working in your belly snaps.

You gasp, arching your back as your thighs squeeze his arm, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“That’s it, baby girl. That’s it.” Colby whispers as he peppers your face with kisses, slowly pulling his fingers out.

He brings them up to his lips, licking them off with a groan while you watch in awe. He reaches down, slipping your hand from his sweats and lays next to you, pulling you into him.

Your body fit perfectly into his, like you were made for him.

“I just want to lay with you.” He whispers as he twirls your hair, “We can get to that other stuff later.”

You weren’t going to argue with him. You’re just glad you’re there.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Hi hello sorry for the late update. I’ve been super sick lately. I hope you enjoy this!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[loulovingho]

“Tommy!” Eddie cheered, lifting his drink toward the sky as he spotted his friend walking toward him. “Whatcha doin' here, Man?”

“Figured I'd stop by and see how you were doing, Bud,” Tommy replied. He gave Eddie a pat on the back as he sat down in the empty seat next to him. “You come here alone?”

“Mhm. Needed ta get out. House's too quiet.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Too long,” the bartender interrupted as he walked by. “Was about to cut him off. I already took his keys.”

Eddie's eyebrows furrowed, looking around the bar counter. “Hey! You took my keys.”

“I got him,” Tommy said, giving the bartender a nod. “I gotta say, at least you're talking better than you're texting. I was worried.”

Eddie's face scrunched up in confusion. “Huh? I never did texted you.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Tommy fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and went to his messages. “'Buuuuuuuck, lezz drink, Buddy.' Then five minutes later, 'Bruck, why rn't you at bar? I waiting.' A good two minutes after that you sent me your location with an angry emoji. Then, and this is my personal favorite, 'Loser too busy kissy kissy with Tummy to be a friendship.'”

"Huh. Thought I was textin' Buck.”

“Yeah, I pieced that together.”

“So where's Buck if you're not kissy kissy?” Eddie asked, his final drink sloshing over his fingers as he attempted to bring it to his lips.

Tommy took the drink from Eddie and set it back on the counter. “Evan is watching Jee overnight so Howie and Maddie can have a night away. So, you wanna talk about whatever's bothering you? I mean, I could take a guess, but...”

“Nah. No, no, nope. I wanna,” Eddie pulled at the collar of his shirt. “Lessgo karaoke, Tomboy-”

“We're not calling me that.”

“I wanna sing to the rooftops,” Eddie continued, his words slurring more and more with each sentence. “I wanna. I wanna be, you know, be free, Tommy. I don't have a rea-,” he hiccuped, “reason to get back home.”

“Really? Seems like that's exactly where you need to be right now.”

Eddie's eyes widened, like he'd thought of the best idea in the entire world. “Let's go to Peeping Tom! That's your name!”

“Peeping Tom is a gay bar, Eddie.”

“I don judge.”

“A very kinky, fully nude gay bar,” Tommy clarified.

Eddie squinted, deep in thought. “No karaoke?”

“No karaoke.”

“Well, then were we go? Don't say home!”

“Home.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groaned, allowing Tommy to wrap an arm around his back and help him up. “You're like a no- no fun dad. Wish I'd texted fun dad.”

Tommy gripped onto Eddie tighter as he stumbled while taking a step. He sighed. “Maybe next time.”

*****

When Eddie woke up the next morning it was to a pounding headache and blinding sunlight coming through his window. He was nauseous and his mouth tasted like a mixture of gasoline and mouthwash.

He laid there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what happened that made him feel so unbelievably ill.

After a few failed attempts, he finally rolled out of bed and made his way into the kitchen to fix himself some coffee.

He froze when he walked through the door to see Tommy sitting there, reading the newspaper.

“Good... morning?” Eddie started, confused.

Tommy set the paper down. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“I- I think so, I guess. It's a little blurry.”

Tommy hummed. “Not surprising. Coffee just finished, if you want some. Your couch is not comfortable, by the way.”

“Buck's never complained.”

“Yeah, well, he's easier to please than I am.”

Eddie was too hungover for this. He had so many questions, but for some reason the first one out of his mouth was: “Where'd you put my shoes?”

“In your closet.”

He grabbed himself a cup for some coffee. “My keys?”

“We have to go pick them up at the bar today, along with your car, obviously.”

“You didn't close my curtains last night. Woke up thinking I was being interrogated by Ice T.”

Tommy sighed, leaning back in his seat. “'Thank you so much for getting me home safely, Tommy. Did it hurt your back having to drag me into the house while I belted out Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of my lungs?'” He stood, walking over to Eddie and taking the coffee out of his hand, drinking a big sip. “Thank you for asking, Eddie. I think my back will be okay, but my ears will never recover.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, turning to fix himself another cup. “Thank you for getting me home safely, Tommy. I appreciate it.”

“Mhm. No problem.” Tommy returned to his seat and Eddie joined him at the table. They sat in silence for a couple minutes, taking small sips of their drinks.

Eventually, Tommy set his cup down a little harder than normal, getting Eddie's attention with the clinking sound. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About what? How your coffee tastes like cigarette sludge?”

“I'll take that as a no then.” Tommy checked his watch. “The bar doesn't open until three. Want me to stop by and pick you up then?”

Eddie shook his head. “I can just get an Uber, Man, thanks though.”

“Of course. I'll, uh, let you recover.” Tommy stood and went to leave, checking his pocket for his keys and phone.

As he neared the door, Eddie spoke. “Wait,” he said. Tommy turned back to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you sleep on my couch?”

“You're my friend,” he answered simply. “You drank a lot. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” He took a step back toward the table. “Are you okay?”

Eddie cradled the mug in his hands, watching the steam rise from the cup. “You don't... How long has it been? Since you talked to your dad?”

Okay, so Tommy wasn't leaving then.

He came to the table and sat down, taking a moment to think about Eddie's question. “About six years, I think.”

“What did he do?” He looked over at Tommy. “To make you stop talking to him, I mean. Unless you don't wanna get into it. In fact, forget it, I shouldn't-”

“Eddie, it's fine,” Tommy assured him. “I don't mind.”

“Okay,” Eddie nodded, sitting up straighter. “So? What happened?”

“It wasn't just one thing,” Tommy explained. “It was a lifetime of things. He's... He's not a good man. I think the catalyst was about a year after I came out. I hadn't been home in awhile, so I decided to drive to his place one weekend. When he answered the door he said, 'What the hell are you doing here?' I told him I was coming to see him and he said, 'What's the damn point in that?' I thought about it for a second and realized that was a good question, so I turned around, got in my car, and left. Never looked back.” Eddie seemed to be contemplating his words, and Tommy could tell where this was going. “It's not the same thing, Eddie,” he said, beating Eddie to it.

“What if he doesn't come back? What I did, Tommy, it wasn't... It was bad.”

“You made a mistake.”

“I cheated on my girlfriend with a doppelganger of his mom, Tommy, and he caught me.”

“Granted, it was a big mistake,” Tommy deadpanned. “But, still a mistake. He'll come around. You gotta give him time.”

“People keep telling me that,” Eddie replied with an eye roll. “That he'll come around. But it's been months of nothing. And it seems like no matter what I do, it's not enough.”

“You're trying.”

Eddie huffed. “I'm not sure getting drunk alone at a bar is trying.”

“I think it shows you care, Eddie. And, yeah, that shouldn't become a habit, but you're allowed to be upset. You're allowed to hurt. You made a mistake, but you're a good dad and Christopher knows that. He will come around.”

“And if he doesn't?” Eddie asked, staring over at Tommy.

“Then you keep trying,” Tommy replied. “You never stop trying. Keep being there, keep sending him letters and getting him on Facetime. Go for a visit. Send him texts. I'm not saying you gotta smother him, but never let him forget that you're there. That's the biggest mistake you could ever make.”

“Yeah,” Eddie took a deep breath. “Yeah, you're right. I just... I gotta keep it up. Let him know I'm here, whenever he's ready.”

“Exactly.”

Eddie looked over at the clock on his stove, 11:32 staring back at him. He had no idea he'd slept so long. “Why don't you call Buck, see if he wants to come over and watch a game? Then you can drive me to my car.”

“Oh, you want me to call Evan? Don't you mean fun dad?” Tommy asked, eying Eddie.

It took him a minute, but the memory came back to him. “I did say that, didn't I?”

“You did,” Tommy confirmed. “Which I'm very offended by, by the way. I'm fun!”

Eddie sighed, his head drooping down. “I know you are.”

“I introduced you to karaoke trivia. I've flown you to Vegas.”

“I remember.”

“I never tried to seriously injure you in the name of love.”

“Which I'm very grateful for.”

“I don't have control issues when I have a clipboard in my hand.”

“Are you just gonna keep listing reasons why you're fun?”

“I once shoved three cupcakes in my mouth at once! Nearly choked to death, but Evan whacked me on the back and everything went down just fine.”

Eddie stood with his mug in hand, pointing toward the living room, “I'm gonna go to the couch. Get more comfortable.”

Tommy followed behind, pulling out his phone to call Buck. “I'll let Evan tell you who bowled a 230 last week. Hint: it was me!”

[shotmrmiller]

Ghost knew that declining any type of work in this industry wasn't ideal. He can do as he likes because Ghost is a name everyone knows, a porn actor no one forgets.

Unlike you, the newcomer. Still so green behind the ears.

So, with a downturn of your alluring lips, you inform him that the meeting to go over the upcoming threesome with Price would have to wait.

"My manager sent me an email this morning, very last minute, about a video I'm gonna shoot with Gaz."

The fingers that were tugging your hair still. "Oh yeah? Know wha' kinda scene your doin'?"

You softly hum. "He's to be my handyman neighbor. Gotta bat my eyes at him as I ask if he can come fix my kitchen sink."

Kyle's a decent bloke, a looker for sure.

He's an up-and-coming entertainer. The pretty boy next door, the brother's best friend type.

Face as if sculpted from marble, a smile to die for.

Beautiful, really. Not particularly Ghost's type though, he likes a little more meat on his bottoms. Not that what he thinks matters, of course.

"Tha's alrigh', love. We'll postpone it to after then, yeah?"

Ghost quietly sits behind Price with his arms crossed, never taking his sharp eyes off the small screen. Even though Kyle is there too, all he can see is you. Your rosy tongue tantalizingly licks your bottom lip as you give Kyle a once-over.

Smart fingers undoing the button on his trousers, hooking into the waistband, carefully pulling them down until they puddle at his ankles.

The way you gaze up at him through your lashes, with his cock in your pert mouth, taking him in until the tip of your nose grazes his trimmed pubic hair.

How your neck cranes back so beautifully, eyes fluttering closed as Kyle slides his expert tongue through your slick folds. Your soft thighs trembling as you buck into his mouth, the heels of your feet digging into his back. Ghost's ears catch the sound of your breath hitching, while his eyes feast on the delectable sight of your back arching off the kitchen counter as you reach your peak.

His fingers sink into his thick bicep when Kyle doesn't relent after; continues to lap away at your sodden cunt, pressing tiny kisses on your sensitive clit. Ghost's spine straightens instantly when he hears your pained whimper.

It's too much, Kyle needs to back off before he forcibly gets him off of you—

It takes less than a minute for you to reach another peak, squealing as you come.

Your airy laugh dissolves the tension in his shoulders and leans back into his chair.

Good.

He drinks in the euphoric expression on your face when Kyle slowly sinks into your wet heat— your sweet moan forever music to his ears. Ghost watches you jolt back on the counter with every sharp snap of Kyle's slim hips. He hears the breath punched out of you with each thrust. He can see your white, creamy release around the base of Kyle's thick length, strings of slick connecting you two.

Your hands curl around Kyle's forearms, your shaky legs wrapping around his waist.

Ghost's eyes narrow when Kyle leans forward to whisper something into your ear, and you mewl loudly. Ghost clenches his jaw so tightly that he hears a pop.

Kyle's got stamina, Ghost'll give him that. He fucked you through three orgasms until he finally pulled out and spurted thick cum over your mons.

Price calls it a wrap, and the crew begins to take down the lights and such.

Ghost doesn't move from the chair he's in, knowing that you'll come to him, even on unsteady legs.

And walk over you do, slowly but surely. "Hi, Ghost." He pats his thigh invitingly, gesturing you to sit.

"Hey, love. You did so well," he praises. "Looked a dream."

As you glance down in embarrassment, his dark eyes lock onto Kyle's, who stands with a cold water bottle in hand across the room. "Flatterer."

He holds Kyle's gaze a couple more seconds before flicking them to you. "Only tellin' the truth, pet. Alrigh', let's get outta here. Ya hungry?"

He places an arm around your lower back, the other under your knees, and lifts you off his lap.

"Don't even try to pull tha' dietin' bullshit on me either," he chides.

He huffs in amusement when you sputter.

[everand1r]

Yeah he’s my boyfriend, he just doesn’t know it yet

I do not know how to summarize this, it’s more crack than anything 💀

A/n: Reader is of a diva. And delusional. Chowder reference in Ace’s part lol

Warnings: I love using commas, reader has no gender or physical traits but is very feminine

Characters: Ace, Idia, Silver, Deuce, Jack, Sebek

Ace

Ace blankly stares ahead, ignoring you once again as you rant about how he just HAS to hold your hand.

He’s flattered really, such a pretty thing like you has taken such a liking to him, but you seem to be lost in your own little world sometimes.

“As my boyfriend it’s only natural-“ “we’re not dating,” pouting, you throw on your best puppy dog eyes.

Ace playfully rolled his eyes, “Oh cmon prefect that’s not gonna work on me.”

Hmph well that didn’t work

Alright then time for plan b

“Hold my hand, NOW!” You shout.

Startled, Ace shakily reaches his hand for yours, before you snatch it and squeeze.

“Gah! It burns!” He whines, gripping onto his arm. Ignoring his protest, you happily wave your interlocked hands, a satisfied smile adorning your face.

“Look everybody! We’re holding hands!” You shout, dragging Ace behind you in the courtyard as onlookers watch you with gazes of confusion and fear.

Idia

“Idiiiaaaaa~” you sang, banging on his door at an ungodly hour in the night. At first you wondered if coming at this time of the night was a good idea, but then you remembered Idia doesn’t really have a solid sleep schedule.

But it’s so quiet, is he ignoring you….? Nah you just gotta bang louder. Said man was currently hiding under his covers, silently begging for the gods to have mercy and hope someone will kick you out. Unfortunately for him, Ignihyde is scared of you.

Eventually he caves and opens his door, and your face practically lights up. “Idia! Oh finally I thought you were going to leave me out here!”

“…what do you want?”

You thrust an object in his hands, “here I need your help with this.” Idia glances down at his hands to see a broken glittery watch. Unimpressed, he glances back up to meet your eyes. “Seriously?” “One hundred percent!” You salute. “You couldn’t have waited till the morning?” “Well I thought about that…” You start, glancing off to the side as you play with your fingers,

“But I just missed you so much! Playing online with you is fun and all but I needed to see you again!”

Feeling his hair heat up, idia looks away. “W-Well you could’ve just asked, no need to bring an excuse,” he mumbled glancing at the watch. “Anyways come on in I’ll fix it for you”

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod you’re gonna hang out with Idia…. In his room! You’re practically foaming at the mouth as you walk in the room and sit down on his bed.

You couldn’t contain the giggles coming out of your mouth as Idia worriedly glances at you from the corner of his eye.

Sighing dreamily, you wonder how this night is going to go. You’re lost in thought, wondering how to get Idia into joining you on the bed before he shoves your newly fixed watch in your hands and throws you out. “Here’s your watch prefect, I’ve fixed it up for you. Goodnight.” He says before the closing the door on you.

Even hermits value their sleep.

You’re left standing there mouth agape before you slowly walk back to ramshackle, a new plan already brewing in your mind.

Mission failed, but don’t worry you’ll get him next time.

Silver

You tap your perfectly manicured nails on your chin as you sit in the courtyard, watching the man who has stolen your heart. Everything about him is perfect. His gorgeous eyes and hair, his smile, that chivalrous personality and those forearms! Ugh he’s perfect.

Groaning you bury your face in your knees. “How am I supposed to go talk to him!?!”

Malleus sits next you, amusedly watching your inner turmoil. “Why not go talk to him child of man? You have expressed your desire to do so to me mutiple times and yet you have not followed through, I am starting to think you’re chickening out as you humans like to say.”

Gasping, you snap your head up. “Chicken??? Oh hornton I am many things but I am no chicken!” You stand up and dust yourself off. “fine I’ll go talk to him.”

Malleus chuckles, “I see no reason to be nervous child of man, silver seems to have taken a liking to you as well.”

The cogs turn in your head as you process his words. Silver likes you? He likes you?! Well uhhh- I mean of course he does! Who doesn’t like you??

With your ego rising to dangerous levels you march over to silver conversing with a few birds near the well.

Clearing your throat to gain his attention, he looks up and gives you a pleasant smile.

“Hello there prefect, did you need something?”

“Yes actually I need you to go on a date with me.” You state matter of factly.

His eyes widen. “A date..?” Nodding you respond, “Yes, with me, at that new cafe in Sage island.”

Clearing his throat he responds “I-I would love to.” You watch as a faint blush dusts his face.

You had that affect on him! Your ego once again shoots through the roof.

“Great! I already made the reservations a while ago so let’s meet up on Friday at 7!”

“When did you do that-“ “Don’t be late!” You hastily interrupt, not wanting to answer that question. Rushing back to malleus you practically scream “He said yes! Ohmygosh malleus you have to help me pick out my outfit! I need something that’ll make him say Oh wow!” “Of course my dear, shall we go now?”

Going on a date with the most dreamy boy at NRC…Oh you hope this isn’t a dream!

Deuce

Vdc practice was more stressful today, with epel lashing out and storming off, deuce following after him.

It’s been awhile since they left. You hoped everything was ok with deuce. Oh and epel too.

Argh I should’ve given vil a piece of mind! Then deuce would’ve fallen for my fearless charm! Your hands slap onto your cheeks while your thoughts spiral.

As time goes on and deuce and epel return, you’re overjoyed! Although that joy doesn’t last long when you find out where they had gone.

“WHYY??” You shout, falling to the ground in despair.

He went on a date with epel? He went on a date with someone that wasn’t you?!

The poor boy was awkwardly watching you spiral right in front of him. He glances towards his group mates behind you for help. Only for them to turn around, seemingly finding the wall so interesting.

Damn

Deuce scratches behind his head, wondering how to console the sobbing mess on the floor (you). “We just uh went to the beach? Nothing happened, we just shouted at the waves..”

That seemed to do the trick

“Oh I knew it!” You spring up. “My plans for our first date aren’t ruined!” “First date? What do you mean by that!?” He sputters.

You ignore him, lost in thought about what date you should go on. Although a Blast cycle date is off the list!

Hmph epel is lucky nothing happened between those two, or he would’ve gone straight into your burn book.

Jack

Recently you’ve been daydreaming,

Daydreaming about jack carrying you in his arms specifically. You sigh once again as you realize he’s never once lifted you up in his arms. He has no reason to

But this shall remain a dream no longer! You were determined to make this a reality, and with you and him both going to Vargas camp, you had your chance.

The day before vargas camp, you relay your plan once again to grim. He does not care.

It’s for the tuna it’s for the tuna it’s for the tuna- grim probably

.

.

Now here you two were, alone, in the woods looking for grim. You had roped that poor little beast into your plan, having him get “lost” while you asked jack to help you look for him.

You had to buy him premium tuna and do his homework for a week but it was so worth it. You think to yourself as you walk alongside jack

Seeing a tree stump ahead, you figured now was the time to put your plan into action.

“Ouch!” You hissed. Jack looked back, only to see you dramatically fall to ground with the worst acting he had ever seen in his life.

“Oooh my ankle, I think I broke it.” you whined.

“I don’t think you could break it by-“ “OOOH THE PAIN!” You interrupt. “I don’t think I can walk any further, I’ll need somebody to carry me.”

“I think you can-“

“Only a strong 6’3, wolf beast man will be able to help me out of this crisis!”

Jack playfully sighed, knowing you’d only continue to cry on the floor until you got what you wanted.

He walks over and lifts you up in his arms. “You’re lucky I like you prefect.” He states, glancing down at you.

Wait what you bluesceeen.

“What’s the matter prefect? You got what you wanted didn’t you?” He smirks.

Averting your gaze you mumble, “I-uh let’s just keep looking for grim.”

You weren’t expecting him to fluster you!

Sebek

All week you’ve been trying to get sebek to spend more time with you. From studying together, to accidentally bumping into him in the halls.

But you didn’t want to ask to spend more time together! You wanted him to come to you! Although nothing has worked so far… ugh how unfair. Who wouldn’t want to spend time with you!

Fine it seems you have to resort to EXTREME measures you internally groan, walking up to him after class.

“Sebek you aren’t busy after school today right? I was hoping you could teach me how to fight using a sword today,” you start, clasping your hands behind your back and rocking on your feet. You hoped you didn’t look too desperate

“Hmph, you’re lucky I don’t have any training today, I’ll meet you in Diasmonia later.”

Oh look how easy that was

.

.

.

You’ve been practicing outside for quite a bit. Spending time with the knight is always a treat. Getting to stare at his sharp eyes as he focuses on honing his skills, his muscles bulging with each swing- Oh look you fell into the grass and ate shit

“Prefect!” He snapped. “Why ask me to practice sword fighting if you’re not going to pay attention!”

To be honest you didn’t really care for sword training, you could defend yourself just fine, but getting to spend time with Sebek was worth the blood sweat and tears…. Kind of

“Oh I just hate to get my face dirty!” You groan, pouting on the floor. With a heavy sigh, sebek reaches a hand out to you, “Well you’ll get even more dirty sitting on the floor.” with a fast beating heart and warm face you take his hands as he helps you up.

“Come on let’s get you cleaned up-“ He offers, looking back at you only to be met with you staring with a lovesick smile.

Whipping his head back, “Don’t look like that!” He yells. To anyone else he may look mad, but that flushed face tells you otherwise. Smiling, you skip up to him and carefully link your pinky with his. The knight glances at you as you bat your eyelashes at him. Sighing once again, he grabs your hand as you both walk towards Ramshackle. A lovely shade of red coating his cheeks.

Hope you guys had as much fun reading as I did writing this lol

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[minus-plus-zer0]

Sunshine Vs Grumpy

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

When you first met Bakugou, he always wore a grumpy expression.

You didn’t understand how someone could look so darn upset all the time. You felt a burning desire to fix that, for the sake of his pretty face.

“Bakugouuuu!” 

You called out to Bakugou in a quiet hallway, and Bakugou nearly jumped out of his skin due to your voice. Your voice alone always seemed to startle him, for whatever reason. But he still retained his grumpy expression as he turned to you.

“What?!" Bakugou snapped. "What the hell was that for?”

You pouted. “Oh you’re doing it again!” 

“Doing WHAT?”

“That! That right there! You’re frowning all the time! You’re such a grumpy pants you know that?”

“HAH?! Where the hell do you get off telling me that to my face?”

“Well I just thought you would feel so much better if you weren’t so unhappy all the time, so I wanted to point it out and cheer you up! Here, let me try.”

“WHAT ARE YOU–”

You patted his arm like a salesman would pat a fine car. Bakugou wrinkled his nose and scrutinized your gesture. 

“You don’t gotta fucking pat me to calm me down dammit! I’m not weak to your damn petting! I’m not–”

You stroked his arm. “There, there… There, there…”

“I can calm down just fine on my own,” Bakugou said, his voice slowly getting less heated. “There’s nothing wrong with my anger. Or my frowns.

You hugged his arm lightly, swinging it a little. “It’s okay! No worries, it’s gonna be alright!”

Bakugou exhaled through his nose, staring down at you. Bakugou lost most of the anger in him. His expression looked much more relaxed as he gazed at you.

“See?” you said, pointing at his face. “Isn’t this better?”

“You gonna steal my arm every time I frown?” Bakugou asked, with a leveled voice.

“Every time! As much as it takes!”

Bakugou clicked his tongue. “I got places to go. C’mon.”

Bakugou practically dragged you around school for the rest of the day because you wouldn't let go. He never told you to let go either. Bakugou would stand and wait for you to cling back on if you ever accidentally fell off. And true to your word, you continued to cling to him long after in the following days and weeks. The boy would not stop getting into fights and you had to be there to calm him down.

Eventually, Bakugou did calm down quite a bit, and you stopped accompanying him everywhere. Then, Bakugou started knocking on your dorm door to figure out where the hell you went.

"Why'd you leave?" Bakugou asked.

"I thought you were doing well on your own," you said. "So I assumed you wouldn't need me anymore..."

"Wouldn't need you...?"

Bakugou spelled out the words like they were foreign to him. Even now, he still didn't look angry. Just confused.

"Ya can't just dump me all of a sudden..." Bakugou said. "That's too damn much... Ya know, I've gotta hit the convenience store soon and there's an asshole cashier that gets on my nerves. You coming or what? Snacks are on me."

"Hm... snacks? Maybe... I don't know..."

Bakugou sighed. "...Can you please come with me?"

This was not the first time you saw a more vulnerable side of Bakugou, but it was one of your favorites. The boy looked genuinely concerned.

"Sure, okay!" you said. "Since you asked soooo nicely."

Bakugou's expression lit up just like yours did and his good mood only continued throughout the night. After spending enough time with you, you eventually considered Bakugou to be well rehabilitated from his chronic grumpy face disease.

(Clingy goofy dorky needy loser Bakugou strikes again!)

[throneofsmut]

Kinktober Day 2: Stalker / Somnophilia

Azriel x Reader || WC: 1.8k

You threw your head back in a rehearsed laugh, it was too perfect, too well-timed, like it had been used a hundred times before. And it had been, ever since you started working at Rita’s a couple months ago. 

You got along well with everyone you worked with, Rita herself was a good boss, the patrons aren’t awful, but the males can be annoying. 

It’s usually about ten males and females that flirt with you. Trying to convince you to sleep with them, using the same sleazy pick-up lines. The males almost always reeking of alcohol while giving you fuck me eyes as they order another drink, and that’s on a slow nights. 

The females are usually more charming, at least. 

On busier nights, it's anywhere between twenty to fifty males or females, trying to convince you, and tonight is no different. At least they tip well. 

The male sitting in the bar stool in front of you is no different. You couldn’t really hear his pick-up line over the music, the dancing patrons, or the fae seated at the gambling table to your left, but you laugh anyway. He does too.

You reach for a new clean glass, and with a practiced hand you pour the drink from the tumbler, the amber liquid cascading in a steady stream. Then place it in front of the blond haired male with the same practiced smile you give almost all the patrons. 

His hand wraps around your wrist before you can pull it back–which is what you wanted–he smirks, “Here you go, beautiful.” He places two gold marks in your palm. 

You force your smile a bit more, making your dimples show, “Thank you.”

His eyes fall to your lips and his hands linger on yours. “What time are you off?”

Blowing out a soft breath, “Not for hours,” you frown. 

“I’m a patient male, I can wait.” He replies, his words slurring slightly. 

Feeling like someones watching you, you look away from him, eyes scanning the pleasure hall, but don’t see anyone watching you. Hmm, weird. 

Looking back at the male in front of you, giving him a small smile, “Maybe another night. It looks like I’ll be here till the sun rises.”

He nods. “Another night, then.” Then he rejoins his friends at one of the gambling tables. 

You pocket the gold marks, in one of the pockets of the apron tied around your waist when Rita comes up next to you, smirking. Her warm brown eyes follow your hand amusedly. A manicured brow arching. 

“What,” you chuckle. “Girl’s gotta eat.”

She shakes her head laughing, “You say it as if I don’t pay you enough.”

“Oh you do,” you grin. And she does, very well actually. “But, a little extra never hurts.”

Rita grins back, “No, it does not.” You reach for a clean rag to wipe down the counter when Rita speaks again. “Y/n, do you mind going to table 7 and taking their order?” 

You glance at her, “Yeah, no problem.”

“Thank you,” she beams, already walking to the other end of the bar. 

You finish wiping down the counter and start walking backwards, towards the hinged section of the counter. “Hey Kai,” you call your coworker who’s also bartending tonight. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to take a table order!” 

He nods. You lift the hinged section of the counter, slipping through, and let it fall back into place with a quiet thud. 

Weaving through drunk and dancing patrons, heading straight for Table 7, declining their invitations to dance. 

Finally, getting through the crowd, you spot long familiar golden blonde hair and curves dressed in red. 

As soon as you get to the table, Mor squeals, “Y/n!” Pulling you in for a hug. “I missed you!”

You laugh. “Mor, I saw you yesterday.”

She pulls back, still gripping your shoulders, “So what, I can’t miss you?” 

You laugh again, and the same feeling of being watched washes over you. Your eyes flit around the table and find hazel eyes already fixed on you. 

And you don’t know why, but you smile at him. A real genuine smile for Azriel, the spymaster of the Night Court. He tips his chin down. 

Looking back at Mor, “You can do whatever you want.”

She grins, “I always do.” Then sits back down.

With a small tentative smile, you greet everyone at the table. The High Lord and Lady of Night and their inner circle. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

Nodding every time one of them says an order and then going back to the bar to make them. Five minutes later you go back to their table, all their orders balanced on a tray.

You hand out their drinks, eyes lingering on Azriel a little longer than necessary, he does the same. 

Taking a step back with the tray tucked under your arm, “Enjoy your drinks,” you say politely. They all thank you and you turn on your heel and head back behind the bar. 

You continue working for the next few hours. Mor comes up to the bar a couple times for a few more rounds throughout the night. Her and the inner circle call it a night two hours before closing time. 

It’s an hour left before the sun rises and you’re finally on your way home. Kai wraps an arm around your shoulders as he walks you back to your apartment. 

You two have been friends for centuries. His boyfriend is actually your cousin, distantly, but still. And they live around the corner from

you.

“Make good tips tonight?” He asks.

“Yeah, not too bad.” You got really good tips tonight actually. Thank you Mor. “It was a busy night.”

“Yeah, it was,” Kai agrees.

You’re a few minutes from your apartment when you stop abruptly. Looking around. 

“What?” Kai asks, looking at you. 

Shrugging, “I don’t know. . . I just feel like someone’s watching us.” Watching you. A pair of hazel eyes comes to mind.

He looks around. “I don’t see anyone.” Neither do you. 

You let out a soft sigh, “I think I'm just tired.” 

He nods, “let’s get you home.” 

The rest of the walk to your apartment is in comfortable silence. Kai walks you all the way up to your door and waits until you step inside before leaving. 

Entering your apartment, you walk past the kitchen and head straight towards your bedroom. 

Trudging into the en-suite bathroom, your moments slow and heavy as you turn the knobs of your shower. The shower head sputtered before a steady stream of water began to flow. 

You lazily undress and step into the shower. The warm water cascading over your aching body. You stand there for a moment letting the exhaustion wash away before reaching for the soap. Showering quickly and efficiently before shutting the shower off. 

You dry off and climb into bed naked, too tired to change into your night clothes. 

Hazel eyes belonging to a certain Illyrian are the last thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep. 

You dream of him. Of Azriel. His face is clear, his deep voice like silk, and his hands are touching you. Exploring you. His leathers feel cold against your bare skin. 

“Azriel,” you whisper breathlessly as he kisses and nibbles on your neck, chest, and tummy. 

One of his hands roaming over your tits, and they harden into peaks beneath his touch, his other hand teases the skin on your lower tummy. Right above where you actually want him. 

His touch is light, faint like a shadow, making your hips buck. Trying to get him to touch you where you want. Need. 

“I’m here, angel.” Azriel murmurs, his voice is like dark silk. 

“Touch me,” you pant lightly. “I want you to touch me.” 

You feel him smile against your skin, then his hand lowers and you spread your soft thighs apart, one thick scarred finger pushing into you. 

Moaning when he starts to curl it. His thumb tracing tight little circles on your clit. 

Azriel groans deep in his chest at the sound his finger draws from your wetness. “Is this what you wanted, angel?” 

“Mhm,” you moan. “But I want more.” 

“You want another finger? You want me to fuck your sweet little cunt with my fingers?”

Your breath hitches at his words, but you shake your head, gently. “I want you to fuck me, Az.”

He makes a tortured sound, low in his throat, “Are you sure, angel?”

“Please,” you nod eagerly, your hand moving to cup his hardening length that’s pressing against your thigh. And you feel it twitch beneath your touch. “Please fuck me.” 

Azriel doesn’t say anything. He just pulls his finger out of you and you feel him move, settling between your spread legs. 

The sound of his leathers coming undone fills your ears next. 

A large scarred hand settles on the back on your thigh, holding you in place, and then he pushes in slowly. 

He sucks in a sharp pushing in, inch by inch, his thick hard length stretching you. 

When he’s fully seated you clench around him, earning a low moan from him, but he doesn’t move. Not yet. He waits, letting you get used to his size.

“Move,” you breathe. 

He leans back, rocking back into you slowly. Tenderly. Sensually. 

“Az,” you whine, and he pushes in deeper, the head of his cock massaging that sweet spot inside of you. 

A gasp escapes your lips, eye’s snapping open at the feel and bright hazel eyes meet yours. 

You gasp again and Azriel grins at you darkly. His hazel eyes nearly glowing in the darkness of your moonlit bedroom. “I told you, I was here, angel.”

His shadows leave him to play with you instead, some push your hair back and caress your face, others explore and trace every part of your body. Those shadows seem to favor your hard nipples and swollen clit. 

You open your mouth to speak, but a loud moan comes out instead, “Oh, gods!” 

A deep coiling tension starts to build deep inside you. Walls fluttering around his cock. 

Azriel grunts, hips never faltering as he pushes into you somehow deeper. Chasing both of your climaxes. 

“You’re mine,” he growls. “You’ve been mine since I first saw you four months ago, your first night at Rita’s.”

“I-I never,” you huff between breathes, “saw—“

“Saw me that night?” His thrusts start to get more frantic. “I know, but I saw you.” His breathing gets heavier. “I’ve been keeping an eye on what’s mine ever since,” he admits.

“That was you!” Your shock comes out as more of a whimper. But the tension in your body tightens at his admission. 

Azriel answering smirk is feral. “Say you’re mine,” he growls. And you know he can feel you cunt gripping him. 

“Say it!”

“I’m yours!” You cry out and it’s enough to snap the tension. 

Both of you coming undone together, with one word on your lips, “Yours!”  It pours out of your lips in a pleasurable chant. 

“Mine,” pours out of Azriel’s in a vow.

Time slows as you both shatter, splintering, as the world seems to stutter on its axis. Azriel nearly collapses on top of you from the force of his orgasm and you claw at his back, the only thing tethering you to your body as your vision blurs.

Your knuckles accidentally rubbing against his wing making his entire body shudder as his cock pulses inside you. Your cunt clenching around him in response.

****

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Main Masterlist

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[dilfl0v3rss]

smart mouth

"you know better, but still choose to end up like this" with the last word of his sentence ony made sure to feed each and every inch of him down your throat, spit trickling down your chin as you gagged around his wide dick. your panties were soaked with your arousal, big brown eyes filled with hot, wet tears as you kept your sights on him alone. "gotta smart ass mouth on you, but daddy gon fix that real quick, aint he mama?" he said, his deep voice causing his chest to rumble as he continued moving your head back and forth onto him. he gave you a couple more strokes before pulling your mouth off of him completely, smirking as he watched you intake as much air as you could before exhaling over and over again, your lungs in a hurry to get familiar with the air its been denied.

you nodded at his previous question, giving him a mindless 'mhm' before moving hungrily towards is dick in efforts to reconnect the two of you, but ony was quick to stop you. he wrapped an inked hand into your hair, pulling your head back as he stared down at you condescendingly. "such a greedy girl, i got sum for you tho c'mere" his other hand found your throat, pulling your face up towards his until you were standing right in front of him before he pushed you flat on the bed. each of your thighs grabbed by dark, tatted hands as he pushed your legs towards your chest. the fabric of your panties began to tighten the closer your knees got to your face, giving ony the perfect view of your pussy through your bright pink thong.

he freed one of your thighs, lightly teasing your clit through your underwear with his thumb to draw those pretty moans he loved so much from your lips. "sound so sexy, makes me forget how dirty y'mouth could be." you ignored his words, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your body fought with ony's other hand to arch off of the bed. of course you were of no success, bottom half practically glued to the bed by the strength of ony's one hand on your thigh. just the thought of it made you want him even more, your hands moving towards his abdomen to caress the inked skin. "unt uh mama no hands today, you been bad remember?" oh yea, this is a punishment. you're not sure how the thought slipped you or even what you did to end up here, but it was far too late to try to plead with him now.

you obediently moved your hand away, putting each of them over your head where they claimed a tight grip on the sheets. ony nodded at your compliance, seeing it as progress. his hand reclaimed its spot on your other thigh, pushing it down towards your chest as well before he slowly moved his dick towards your clothed heat, lightly rubbing his length up and down your center. you moaned at the contact, your grip on the sheets tightening as you chanted his name over and over. "i know ma." he continued his movements, moving a little rougher at times to keep you on edge, you were losing your mind under him. "p-papa please" you whined, his firm grip on your thighs still giving you no way to move to get any more than what he's giving you.

ony could tell what you wanted just by the look in your eyes, a devilish smirk spreading towards his lips as he played dumb. he tilted his head up towards you with a deep 'hmm'. "w-want you inside" you were in no position to make demands right now given that he was upset with you and literally had you pressed down into the mattress, but you thought it'd be worth a try. "want me in your tummy?" his voice was full of faux sympathy and you knew it, but your desperation outweighed your common sense, so you begged. "yes please please please daddy. want you t'fuck me now" ony chuckled at your neediness, rubbing even harder into you before bringing his lips down towards your neck. he completely ignored what you said as he sloppily kissed down your body, leaving small bites in some places until he were face to face with your clothed pussy. "m'not fuckin you t'night princess"

the whine you let out was less than a second before ony gave you a sharp tap to your heat, the wet patch in the fabric only growing as he left small kisses on your clit right after, stroking himself slowly as he teased you. the difference in affection made your head spin as you watching him slowly outstretch his tongue towards where he knew your entrance was, dark brown eyes staying trained on yours as he slowly dragged the muscle up up your center before sloppily eating you out through your panties. his tongue moved skillfully over the fabric, still licking and sucking you to the point where your legs shook. "fuck baby" you moaned into the air, back arching off the bed as you tried to grind your pussy onto his tongue. ony didn't give you the chance to, moving back just enough so you were met with nothing but air. a chuckle escaped his lips as he watched you huff and puff above him.

ony abruptly stood up in front of you, his hand still wrapped firmly around his dick as he stroked himself slowly above you. each of his groans only made you wetter as you watching him pleasure himself to the sight of you. "you so pretty ma, jus need you t'act right" your eyes followed his hand, his pace slow and steady. you were so desperate for him, but you knew not to move again since it was likely that he'll cuff you this time. "i-i will daddy, promise" his groans made you want him more and more, his broad chest rising and falling steadily as he looked at you needily. "gon stop talking back t'me n start being the good girl you know i want you to be?" he stroked himself faster, moving his thumb down towards your clit where he began to rub in quick, small circles. you moaned into the air, legs acquiring a slight shake as you nodded along to his words. "y-yes! whatever you want pa, p-promise t'be better" your release was approaching quickly and he knew that, moving his thumb faster to push you closer to the edge. you could tell he was close as well, his hand moving at a quick pace as his hips bucked every so often. at this rate he was going to make the both of you come at the same time, his hands working wonders for the both of you as he pushed you to the brink of your release. "okay, i hear you baby" a relieved sigh left your lips but that relief didn't last long. at the same time you noticed that ony was no longer pleasuring you. his other had was by his side as he alone met his release.

"but when i actually start seeing that attitude change then ill touch you how i know you want me to."

[limethefirst]

PART 2 OF VOID RUNNERS PLEASEE😭🙏

Void Runners Pt.2

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, crude humor, Deadpool

summary: After escaping Cassandra's lair you find yourself tagging along with Deadpool and Wolverine in hopes of saving their universe as well as getting out of the void

Part 1 / Part 3

a/n: Ask and you shall receive! This is a continuation of Void Runners since people seemed to really enjoy it! I hope it lives up to what you guys were expecting, I was thinking of ways to involve the reader a bit more! Request are open

You had no idea what was happening. One moment you were watching as Cassandra was about to let the giant monster known as Alioth eat you, the next you were being squished by Deadpool on some type of rocket soaring through the sky escaping the close clutches of death itself.

There wasn't much time to process anything because you were already about to crash, and were flung straight into the hard, dusty ground you've come to know as the Void.

A groan escaped you lips as you sat up, looking towards your new companion's, Deadpool and Wolverine; noticing how Deadpool was on top of him, your brows raised a bit.

"What cha' thinking 'bout?" Deadpool asked him, his voice laced with an innocent tone.

Logan wasn't fond of this at all, "Get the fuck off of me," he said, almost growling at the man.

"Shh shh, almost done"

"Almost done what?!" he look up at Deadpool, concerned about what he meant by that.

Deadpool now changed his tone to a more annoyed one, "Getting my knife out of your buttock, you pervert! Get your bind out of my pants!" Both men were now getting up, "I'm telling Blake!"

Deadpool looked over to you and grabbed your arm pulling you up next to him. Then he gave you a silly thumbs up, which you didn't understand why but just gave him a smile in return as a thank you for the gesture.

"New rule!" Logan began again, "I talk now" this time he looked at you as well.

"I haven't even said anything?!" You looked at him confused. Throwing your arms up a bit, and looking at Deadpool as well.

"Hush little one, Papa is talking right now" Deadpool looked over to you, holding up one finger to signal you to be quiet as he talked to Logan. You threw your arms up again now looking at Logan as he groaned at whatever was going on, obviously exhausted.

"Shut the fuck up!" Logan had now turned around, "Let me fucking think, we gotta get back to paradox right? Right?"

"Am I allowed to speak now?" Deadpool asked him sarcastically, you could tell he was smiling.

"Just nod asshole" Logan was fed up at this point.

Deadpool gave in and gave Logan a slight up and down, letting his buddy say what he needed to. Logan then looked at you as if something in his brain clicked.

"Johnny said something about others before you got him killed!"

"Poor kid? He was like fifty!" Deadpool shoots back, insulted by the comment.

Logan looked back at you, "You've been here longer then any of us have, do you know where we can find these guys?"

You hesitated before speaking to him, "I have an idea," you said, Logan looked back at Deadpool and nodded.

"You're gonna help us find them and get us out of here," Logan told you. He wasn't willing to listen to any protest, but you didn't care to argue, this was your chance at escape and by God you were gonna take it.

"Alright, I'll do my best then." You nodded at him, jumping on the bandwagon of opportunity.

"Oh I knew it was a good idea to bring you along sugar sprinkles!" Deadpool said as he patted your back, which honestly felt more like a hard slap, that lightly pushed you forward.

"You better fix my shit like you fucking promised," Logan pointed his finger at Deadpool's chest as you stepped to the side, look straight ahead noticing something in the distance.

"I smell a quest!"

"I smell food,"

This caused both men to look at what you were looking at.

A little restaurant not to far from here.

Logan was turning the place upside, you were unsure what he was looking for as he'd already found you guys some unopened spam to eat.

Deadpool finally had his mask off and you noticed what he looked like without it, you couldn't help but feel bad for him, even with the way he is, something tragic must have happened for his face to be all scarred the way it was.

"So what made you finally wear an honest to God costume?" He asked in between bites, "Mines red so they can't see me bleed." This time he turned to you and gave you a strange smile as he took yet another bite. "I can see how yellow can be useful too!"

Logan turned around and stared him down, "Have you been checked for ADHD?"

"Nu uh," Deadpool answered, mouth full with a big smile.

"You should," This time you answered as you finally tried the spam, it wasn't too bad for God knows how old it could've been.

You could hear a chuckle come from Logan as he continued his search.

"Though I've had several STD's, probably caused by ADHD" Deadpool told you guys.

You just rolled your eyes at him, wondering where he gets these ideas from. You guys both sat there longer watching Logan. Deadpool sat on one side of the booth, you sat on the edge of the table a bit, and Logan was still searching.

"What are you even looking for?" You asked the bigger man, curious what was making him more frustrated then the red masked fellow next to you.

All you heard was a mumble before you saw him grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"No no no no no, that's rubbing alcohol, you don't want to-" Before he could even finish his sentence Logan had already chugged most of it down, you turned a bit to him and sat yourself next to Deadpool watching Logan come towards the table, "Oh yup there you go, there you go, fuck that liver."

"Don't come to me when you need a liver transplant," Deadpool gave an amused snuff at your comment and turned back to the big fellow.

"What the fuck are those?" Logan was looking at, staples in Deadpool's head? You turned to look at it and you stared a little too hard that you could see the little strands of most likely fake hair pinched in between it.

"Oh, back in civilian life I wore a toupee, but nobody knows," Deadpool gave a little smile as he looked at you guys, touching his phantom hair.

Both you and Logan began to laugh a little at this, "They fucking know" you told him.

Logan joined in on the teasing, "Everybody knows," Logan gave you a smile, being glad someone else is there to help him tease the annoying red suited vigilante.

"Wanna talk about what's haunting you, or are we gonna wait for a third act flashback?"

"Ughh go fuck yourself," this was all it took for Logan to go back to the bar stools as he sat there, drinking his rubbing alcohol.

You gave Deadpool and annoyed look at elbowed him a bit, trying to get him to lay off the man a bit; it seemed to get through to him, as he rolled his eyes and began to talk again, "In my world, you're uh, well regarded."

"Not in mine," Logan didn't look back, he just took another sip.

"Well they don't like me much in my world," Deadpool said trying to lighten the mood.

"We couldn't tell.." You told him, as you stood up and threw away your empty spam cup.

"I wanted to be something, you know? Shit, I wanted to be an Avenger!"

"Fuck the Avengers,"

"I didn't make the cut though, same with the X-men," Deadpool paused, picking his next words wisely. "My girlfriend left me,"

"You had a girlfriend?" Logan asked, with genuine curiosity.

"Yea, Vanessa, when we met she was a dancer, made a whole life, it was good, but oh boy I just, uh"

You stood by the trash, leaning against the wall, not wanting to intrude on their moment.

"But fuck, you were an X-men, fuck that you were the X-man. You, uh the Wolverine, you were a hero in my world."

"Yea well, he ain't shit in mine." Logan finished his drink, if that's what you could even call it.

Deadpool turned to you, as if asking you to say something too. You let out a bit of a sigh before speaking.

"You saved me in my world."

Logan turned his head a little bit, and Deadpool gave you a somber look, unlike his normal self.

"I was in an accident, but I saw this man with metal claws, he helped me, he got me out." You closed your eyes and breathed.

"It inspired me to become who I am today, every Wolverine, is a hero in every universe, no matter what." You looked up at the both of them, "Well it's what I think at least. I didn't recognize you at first, but when I heard your name, I knew who you were, even if you aren't from my universe."

Logan looked back down at his empty hands, he began to think. The silence was killing you. Deadpool could tell and so he went back to his normal demeanor. "Alright sugar tits," Deadpool looks at Logan, "Time to go!"

It was time to continue your adventure in finding the people who would help you escape this place.

[onetoomanyfandomfixations]

Helluva Boss Characters Reacting to You Asking for a Hug

Tbh this series is just for my own enjoyment at this point lmao

I’m so normal about them, I swear.

BLITZØ

Honestly, it depends on what type of relationship you have with him

Familial relationship? Best BELIEVE he’s coddling the shit outta you rn

^ def a cheek pincher

“Hey sweetie? Do you need me ta fuck someone up for ya?”

But if y’all are platonic, or SATAN FORBID

R O M A N T I C ?

Ur not getting Shit

Well, until you start crying

“You’re a fuckin’ baby, you know that?”

Very casual hugs

Always sits his chin on you

Will complain the entire time

But you both know he loves you

LOONA

“Oh shit, you good?”

She’s blunt, not heartless

Honestly pretty touched that you asked for a hug instead of just going for one

Like her adoptive dad, very casual hugs

Usually just slings an arm over your shoulders

Won’t talk to you about it

Y’all just sit in comforting silence

Don’t let anyone point out that she’s letting you touch her

Will get v flustered

Depending on how you both feel - may let you play with her hair to self regulate

MILLIE

“Sure thing, hun!”

Doesn’t matter who you are, or why you need a hug, she’ll take it

Physical affection is her top love language idc

Squeezes super super tight

Like, you can barely breathe

Gushes over how sweet you are

Will probs pepper your face in kisses too (doesn’t matter what ur relationship with her is)

((Millie is a strong believer in non-romantic kisses, she told me herself))

Will probs ask Moxxie to bring y’all a drink

MOXXIE

“Uhh, you sure you want a hug from me?”

Yes babe I’m sure

Doesn’t think he’s the best one to be comforting you - will palm you off to Millie if he can

But will be offended if anyone else says he can’t look after you

^^ Gets all huffy about it

Distraction is his new best friend

Will tell you a mixture of stories and fun facts to try and make you feel better

Will also make you a hot drink

If you want to, will talk out your feelings with you

STOLAS

Babes just blinks for a hot minute as your words register with him

Has the softest smile

“Of course, dearest. Come here.”

A hug isn’t enough for him, you’re in for a full blown cuddle sesh now

Likes the feeling of having you fully wrapped up in his arms

Forehead kisses. Forehead Kisses.

Will sometimes swaddle you in blankets like a literal baby

Hums softly for you

Tries to ask what’s wrong, will def push the subject

He just wants to fix it, okay?

Will just,,, smother you in affection until you’re okay

And then some

OCTAVIA

Judgemental eyebrow raise.

Judgy, judgy girl

Y’all gotta be CLOSE for her to hug

((But not really, she’s so touch starved its not funny, but we don’t talk about that-))

Long, comforting hugs

If u end up crying, will fix your makeup for you

Don’t mention it though

Like, literally don’t mention it or it won’t happen again

She probs just breathes a sigh of relief when y’all hugs

Holds on a little too tight, for a little too long

If you ask first, she’ll start coming to you for hugs now too

FIZZAROLLI

Baby. Baby, baby man.

Will wrap his arms around you several times over

Another really tight hugger

You had shit to do?

Sike, not anymore

Now you’re spending all day with Fizz

Your fault, you started it by asking for a hug

Is super worried about you, but tries to play it down

Will do stupid shit just to see you laugh

Will ALSO flirt with you until you can’t stand it anymore

ASMODEUS

Immediately concerned, does not try to hide it

Much like his bf, cancels all plans for today

Y’all are gonna be chilling in bed and cuddling now

Just kinda,,, scoops you up?

Definitely plays with your hair

Gives a SOLID head massage

So so gentle and sweet

Just lays you on his chest

Draws pictures on your back and makes you guess what he’s drawing

^^ he does this to help ground you

Tbh he’ll probably drag Fizz to bed too, so know they’re both looking after you

Mans isn’t gonna let anyone get left out

[kiwiikato]

mommy’s here // ken sato x reader

Chapter Eight

note! thank u for everyone's patience! i'm sorry for the late update and rushed chapter but i hope this makes up for the wait! u all are so silly and i've been enjoying all your comments <3 thank u so much for the love and support!

masterlist

kenji stood on the base plate, calling for the baby kaiju's attention as she chirped. you stood near by him with mina hovering beside you as well. the atmosphere of the warmly colored park held a sweetness to the air.

"okay, just like this." he fixed his stance by separating his legs shoulder length. lifting the wooden bat in his hands, he showed a slow back and forth swinging motion. the baby kaiju chirped more as she raised the cute, but comedically, giant blue bat.

you didn't know where ken pulled it out from but it sure was handy to have it stored. pulling yourself out of your thoughts you focused on the both of them. "elbows up." they both raised their elbows up.

the baby kaiju was absolutely adorable to look at, her arms a perfect chunkiness, making her look rounder as she help the bat upright. kenji put his bat down, making a sound of contempt at her.

"uhuh, get ready." he waved the baseball that he now had, showing it to her. "okay, here it comes." kenji crouched down slightly, with a swift but soft motion, he threw the ball from below, heading towards the baby kaiju.

the ball hit her face, making her let out a cry from the impact as her face jolted. her once happy expression turned sad as she looked at kenji and you in pain. her fins that laid on the side of her head, frilled down in sadness, as tears welled in her eyes.

giant droplets poured out from her as kenji and you looked at each other in worry. "no no no no it's okay." the both of you ran up to her, trying to sooth her tears. she began to cry out, slightly jumping back and forth on her feet.

"oh baby, come here." you said as you reached out to her. she looked down at you, slowly leaning her head to you. you grabbed her forehead, pulling her to you as you placed a small kiss on the spot she got hit on. "see, all better!" you said smiling, making her feel better at the comfort.

you stepped back as her tears dried up, letting ken step up to her next. she looked at ken as she sniffled. he gave her a small smile. "hey, it's okay, it's okay. it happens sometimes, you just got to work at it." his voice was gentle with care, trying to keep her calm and happy.

ken took some steps back to the base he was at originally, now that she seemed calmer. "now get ready, keep your eyes on the ball." he raised a peace sign to his eyes, moving it back and forth between his eyes and the ball. you stared at him as he gently talked towards the baby. he held a soft but handsome smile on his face. you never really took notice of his features.

his eyes were sharp, but full of warmth. his nose was perfect in its own way, it was hooked nose, the arch of it reminded you a greek god in a sense. there was a small black piercings on his ears as well. it almost felt like you were staring at him for the first time all over again.

a blush rose to your face as you continued watching them. "ichi, ni, san, ball!" he yelled out as he threw the ball. it happened so quickly as you watched the baby have her bat smack against the ball, sending it flying across the sky. "woooo! yes! whoo!!" kenji yelled out in joy as he jumped. you and mina shouted out in joy as mina span around cutely with her little robot arms out.

kenji ran up to the baby kaiju, grabbing her loving by here hands. "come on girl, we gotta run the bases!" it was clear as day of his excitement. baseball was his passion, it was his sanctuary. and for the baby he's raising under his care, enjoy the one things he grew up living, it made him feel joy.

he pulled her gently, as she began to follow him. he let go of her, waving you and mina to join him in running and the baby kaiju ran behind him, copying his trail. you all laughing in joy, a special memory being created.

the baby cooed as kenji jumped back on the base, making a home run, as she stopped and leaped to it. a cloud of dust and dirt came from her feet with the force as you all celebrated.

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

after the events of the day in the park, you and kenji sat in the living room as mina took care of the baby kaiju. he told you of his plans to go out in a couple of hours for a scheduled interview with ms. ami wakita. you smiled and told him to not worry as you and mina would take care of the baby in that time.

now you both sat comfortably on the sofa as he played random videos online for the both of you to watch. the your frog plushie from the night before sat on your lap, rubbing its head affectionately.

kenji eyed you from the side of his eye, admiring the way you innocently stared ahead of you. there was a soft smile on your lips, enjoying every second of what life had to bring you. it was almost funny how life had brought the two of you together because of the baby kaiju, and he was grateful.

and so were you. you were grateful to have been able to take care of the baby as you grew closer with kenji. he smiled to himself as he scooted closer to you, your body turned to look at him, to which he gave you a awkward smile. you smiled back, in a way saying he could get closer.

and so he did. he closed the gap that once existed as the two of you watched the tv. it was a comforting feeling, to feel his warmth pressed against you. it wasn't long before kenji reached for the remote, slightly lowering the audio. he turned to you, you copying his actions with curiousity.

"hey, i know i say it a lot but thank you again for all the help with the baby kaiju. the extra help has been so nice to have." his voice was soft, but loud enough for you to hear. you smiled back at him, "of course, she's like family at this point, i honestly enjoy being near the both of you."

kenji looked up happy. he reminded you of a dog wagging its tail, like those 'golden retriever boyfriends' you've heard about online. "yeah me too, i like being with you too." he said smiling wide.

"do you mean the 'both of you'?" you asked, referring to the baby and you. he shook his head. "no no, well yes, but no. i meant you. i've been really enjoying my time with you. it's been really nice to get closer to you throughout the process." his voice was almost hypnotizing, it was undeniably alluring.

"oh well- i've been enjoying getting closer with you as well." you said, slightly caught off guard by his sweet words. kenji turned more towards you, he gently reached for your hands that rested on your lap, pulling them a little more to him. your face turned red at the action, but let him continue.

kenji felt his heart swell seeing you smile softly at him. the two of you have been working together to take care of the baby kaiju, and he couldn't deny the fuzzy feeling he felt everytime he felt when he looked at you.

there was just something so alluring about you that he couldn't deny himself of. the life you both had right now felt domestic, it felt sweet. it was then that he realized that domesticity didn't sound that bad. the idea of sleeping and waking up to you, making food together, watching movies and shows.

even just the idea of cleaning together sounded sweet. he could imagine dancing and singing with you as you both cleaned with music in the background. he knew what he felt. he wasn't oblivious to what he felt, but he didn't know. he didn't know if you felt the same.

he's seen you blush but whose to say it's not a reaction from being nervous instead of being interested. the idea of you maybe feeling the same lingered, holding onto the fact that the two of you have begun to get closer, physically and emotionally.

his eyes moved towards your face, watching as you gently stared towards him. your eyes were full of love and maybe, just maybe, that love was for him and only him. taking a breath, he began to talk. "y/n, i've been enjoying our time together, like a lot. this might sound weird but i have been loving waking up to you and taking care of the baby with you. it's something new for me but i'm happy to be doing this with you all. my point is that i'm happy to have you so close to me and for us to keep getting closer and-"

a soft and gentle hand cupped kenji's cheeks, distracting him from his rambling. his eyes snapped up to yours, nervous of what you would say. "i've loved every moment with you as well, the feeling is reciprocated." you said as your thumb softly caressed his cheek.

that was all the confirmation he needed. the way you stared at him so lovingly as you gently held him, almost like you didn't want to hurt him, brought him over the edge. kenji's arms reached over to you, pulling you closer into an embrace. the distance between you lessened as he stared at your eyes.

you watched as he stared at you, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips. a pale red dusted his cheeks. your eyes trailed to his lips, not going unnoticed by him.

kenji leaned forward, the gap closing as he leaned slightly to your height. the feeling of his lips molding with your own sent you chills as he kissed you with love. you kissed him back, almost urgently as kenji leaned into you, making you fall back into the couch as his body now hovered over you.

one hand near your face help him stay up as his other hand rested at your waist, softy rubbing the skin under your shirt. his fingers were cold, making you shiver into the kiss. kenji was kissing you and you enjoyed it.

your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. kenji groaned softly into the kiss as his hands glided up and down at your waist.

you felt his tongue prod at your mouth, making you slightly open your mouth for him. you hummed in delight as he explored your mouth with his own. the kiss felt like it went on for a while till he pulled away, gasping for air.

you stayed laying down, flushed from what had happen as kenji stared at you, who was still under him. it was then that everything that happened set into you. you had just kissed kenji. you didn't know if it was too soon but a part of you was jumping with joy.

kenji smiled at you, leaning down an placing a small peck at your lip, to your nose, to your cheeks, and forehead. he smother your face with kisses and you felt yourself turn gooey.

he pulled away, sitting up as he helped you get up. pulling you into his arms as he rested your back against his chest. his body wrapped around yours as he rested his head onto your shoulder.

"that was nice." he said softly. you knew he meant more with that, it was a sweet feeling that you both unconsciously had growing inside of you both.

he held you close, enjoying the time he had with you before his interview later. "y/n, i like you. it may come off as straightforward but i would really like to get to know you better." he softy spoke, it was different than his usual bold and prideful attitude.

you could tell he was nervous, with the way his body slightly shook from his nerves. you reached for his hand that laid at your side and grabbed it. "i like you too kenji, and i would really like that." kenji hugged you from behind, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

it was quiet for a while till you heard kenji talk. you almost didn’t hear him, thankfully being able to make out what he was saying. and gosh, did his words make you feel like putty in his hands. " we can finally say we're a little family of our own now."

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[carmenized-onions]

Two Steps Back. | Advanced Payment

logline; it's time to retrace your steps. both of you.

[!!!] series history, this is the thirteenth; nothing distresses me more than when i see people read this out of order PLEASE BABY PLEASE

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. constant headache was actually in season 3? my brain. my power.

Or, maybe you'd like a playlist made especially for this chapter? Consider this my Fishes special.

portion; 17k new record again, please god tell me it gets shorter from here on i'm so. tired..

possible allergies; you will know exactly what trigger warnings you need upon reading seeing the first line. Also! I watched Season 3, and injected some lines from it into this, including the finale. I don't consider it full spoilers, because it's an entirely new context, but you might wanna catch up before you read this one!

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader so excessively gendered, in this chapter. my bad.

it's my birthday so if you typically lurk legally you have to tell me your thoughts on this one! Also it's once again the new longest, so like. cmon.

“What are you, Amish?”

You blink, craning your head back to look up at this annoying giant. You’re too tired for this shit. This is your one day off this week and you’re spending it fixing faulty lights with your dad, at some shit diner. Why did you agree to start coming on jobs? Why’s this guy gotta bother you on your lunch break? What’s wrong with you not wanting to smoke? Pardon you for not wanting to kill yourself with tobacco—

“Ah, no, I’m just uhm—” You gesture your hand to your head. “I get migraines, kinda easy, so I can’t, uh— Can’t indulge.”

He nods, he opts to stand next to you, while you’re sitting on the curb. At least the smoke will blow over your head, this way. You try to eat your lunch in peace. He does not let you have this moment of peace.

“Jack, right?” He nudges your foot with his. “That’s what your pop’s calls you, at least?”

“Yeah. Everyone calls me Jack.” You nod. Guess this is a conversation now, whether you want it or not. “You’re Mikey? The owner?”

“The Original Chicago Beef, in the flesh.” He nods, and he says it like he’s proud but he doesn’t look it. He leers at your partially consumed tin foil wrapped sandwich. “You bring your own lunch?”

You shrug. “Uh, yeah, grilled cheese with pork—” 

“Why would you—”  The door to the kitchen swings open, as Mikey grimaces. You both turn your heads to see another guy come out— Oh it’s that one, the one that cannot stop talking about his divorce— Mikey consults him. “Yo, Rich, do I look like some jamoke, to you? Just wonderin’.”

Rich, tilts his head, and his legs follow after him, “No, cousin, whatssup?” He takes the cigarette from Mikey, when it’s offered up.

“Well, our little fixer friend here—” Mikey nudges you, again. “—seems to think me a fuckin’ ass.”

Now when did you say anything like that? “Wha—”

“Stop making lunches, I’ve been watching you come in here with your little lunch pail the past few jobs, you eat free ‘ere, aright? You’re workin’.” Doesn’t matter what you said. Mikey sees you. Mikey’s always seen you. 

‘workin’’ is a bit generous. The most you do is hand your dad tools, hold a flashlight, and ask too many questions. You definitely could do more, but he knows you're too tired. He really just wants to spend time with you. You pretend to not know his ulterior motives.

“We’re gentlemen here, sweetheart.” Rich bends down, so you can see him past Mikey’s frame, at your level. He reaches a hand out for you to shake. “Richie. Jerimovich.”

You’re not gonna remember that. You take his hand and shake it. “Jack. It’s— I’m just Jack.”

You’ve only got one hand on your sandwich, to shake Richie’s hand. So, like a school bully, Michael takes your loosened grip as his opportunity to grab it from you. “Yoink—!”

You whine, “C’mon—” “Let me make you a real fuckin’ sandwich, sweetheart—” “I’d just like my sandwich, alright?” “Oh, it’ll be your sandwich, alright? You think I don’t make good sandwiches? Richie, she doesn’t think I make good sandwiches.”

“Fuckin’ insane, cousin.”

You attempt to defend yourself from the peanut gallery of one guy. “Not what I said!”

“Why do you keep bringing lunch, then?”

Because it’s easy? Because it’s orderly? Because you’ve been in a full state of autopilot for the last threeish years and every day you’ve eaten the same breakfast and made the same lunch and then you go on your shift and then someone nearly dies and sobs in your arms and then you sit on the edge of the ambulance and you eat your grilled cheese and pork? Because if you break the routine it’s all gonna hit?

“I just like making my own lunch.”

“Well, stop. You’re breaking my heart.” Michael takes a bite of your sandwich. You click your teeth. Germs. You’re going to chastise him, but he doesn’t let you. “You like pork more than beef?”

“I think beef is fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

You take too long to respond, meaning the lie won’t be believable, so you have to tell the truth. You have to tell The Original Chicago Beef that— “I… I like pork more.”

“How dare you—” Barks Richie, the guard dog, apparently. Mikey stops him, putting a hand up.

“No, no, I asked the lady a question. She’s wrong but I asked. Fair’s fair. We express our fury like gentlemen, Cousin.” He nods, to himself. Thinking. About what is beyond you. God, so much for a lunch break. You point to your sandwich in his hand.

“Can I have that back—” “No. I’m makin’ you a goddamn real sandwich.”

You all but growl, really. You start to stand up. God, this guy is pushy. “I just said, I prefer—”

Mikey’s already making his way back into the kitchen, with the last half of your lunch as hostage. “Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ pork sandwich, aright?”

Mikey’s guard dog stamps out the butt of the shared cigarette, walking backwards into the kitchen, following Mikey but watching you. “He’s gonna make you fuckin’ pork, aright?”

“Aright!” Is all you can yell back, at your wits with the two dumbest most stubborn middle-aged geezers you’ve ever met.

Richie holds the door open for you, so you don’t get locked out. Alright, maybe he is a gentleman. You hear Mikey’s voice ring, from inside the kitchen. “And if you’re not doin’ nothin’ for your dad, try to fix the fuckin’ coffee machine, would you?”

This fucking guy. 

You have waved at him a couple times, here and there, while helping out your dad. But now, you’ve officially had Michael Bear Berzatto in your life for a solid ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it.

Carmen Anthony Bear Berzatto has officially not had you in his life for ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like you’ve been gone for years. But you’re probably still just outside, talking to Richie and Syd. How is it still Friday? What time is it? Almost six? They’ve still got four fucking hours of service to go? No, that’s a good thing. This is a good thing. Doesn’t give him time to think. Everyone needs to stop staring at him. 

What a fucking monster. What did he even say? He can’t remember anymore. He remembered ten minutes ago, and now it’s gone. Completely walled off in his memory. What did he say? Why did you make that face? What did he say to Richie, again? Why did you step in front of him? What did you say, again? What did Richie say? What happened? He can’t remember. He knows he did something fucked up but Carmen cannot remember what happened twenty minutes ago. That’s bad, right?

“I need hands!” Carmen does not recognize the fact that he’s working until he hears his own voice.

Right. He’s on expo. He’s doing expo. That’s what was happening twenty minutes ago, he thinks. That’s what was happening, right? Doesn’t matter. This is what he’s doing now. Fak comes back in and takes the tray to run. He looks around for a moment, confused. 

“Where’s Tony?”

“She’s gone.”

Fak pauses. You don’t leave, that doesn’t match up in his brain. It doesn’t really match up in Carmen’s either, but this is what’s happening now. “What’d’you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she’s fucking gone, Fak.” Carmen barks back, practically. Such a fucking monster. Could Fak tell him what he said? Doesn’t matter. Carmen nods to the plate. “Table twenty-five, go.”

“...Where’d she go—” “Fucking go, Fak!”

There is a loud, thrumming buzz. The type that goes off after a game. Or maybe after a wrong answer. Expo clock. Since when did it have a sound setting? The kitchen flinches, including Carmen, including a meek-made Neil, and look to the clock behind them. 

Time has stopped. 0ERR is all it displays now. The sign ‘EVERY SECOND COUNTS’ is real ironic, now. What the fuck happened? You would know. You’re still outside, Carmen could get you. Carmen could get you and say he’s sorry for whatever happened. The back of his head feels like it’s hemorrhaging. He needs to go to a doctor. Maybe a paramedic. Carmen could get you, ask you what he said, and also ask if he is actively dying, right now.

“Fak.” 

“Carm?”

“Table twenty-five.” Carmen points at the plate again, with his sharpie. Then points behind him, to the broken clock. “Then fix that.” 

“Why not call To—” “Do you want a fucking job here or not?” “I—I do—” “Then do your fucking job, Fak.”

Carmen doesn’t need you. The Bear doesn’t need you. They can function just fine. Everything’s fine, without you. Everything’s normal. Everything is the way that it should be. He is shaking so much— When did he eat? Has he eaten? What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened twenty minutes ago? Or was it twenty-five? No. That’s table twenty-five, he’s mixing up his numbers. What time is it? He doesn’t know. The whole kitchen doesn’t know what time it is, anymore. You are gone and so are the minutes. 

Fak leaves, with the plate. Shrunken. Following orders. Carmen just turns everyone into himself, doesn’t he? What a fucking monster. He knows how bad it is to be him, and yet he still does it. Look at the orders, Carmen. Run fucking expo. So fucking slow, Carmen. Look at the orders. 

The crumpled piece of paper you handed him twenty minutes— Thirty? Fuck. The fucking note you handed him some amount of time ago. It sits on his table, next to all the actual orders. He rereads it, instead of the five cavatellis he’s supposed to be yelling about, right now.

Walk-In Hotfix, $80

Plumbing Repair (Service + 4 Hours), $250

Oven Wiring Fix (House call), $70

Oven Hotfix + Replacement Thermocouple, $120

Non-Gratis: Pinot Grigio, -$20

Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. -$2,500

You forgot the booths. And taxes. And you should probably get paid a half day, for serving for the past half hour. You also forgot all the times he called you, texted you, came over, the bookshelf you brought him, the basil, the rosemary water, cleaning up his trash, every time you tried food for him, every time you told him everything was going to be okay, every time you made everyone breath in here like it was going to be okay— You forgot everything you do. Priceless. Easily, you are owed millions, from Carmen. 

He flips over the note. He reads Sweeps’ quick scribings from David, the fucking asshole out front, the fucking asshole in his head. 

Cherry + Lamb, good flavour. A lot of elements. Fresh, Unique. Overall good? Ig? Weird tone.

Said he’d like to speak to ‘Wine Girl’ (ick), mentioned Michelin connect? Number = Connect? (Ick)

You didn’t eat the cherry and lamb dish. That just connected, in his head. You didn’t get to eat it. Not only did you not get to eat it, the motherfucker outside did. Fuck. You were trying to be nice, but you’ve fucked him. Unique is practically a slur to his Exec. Carmen has fun when he makes things for you— He plays— That’s not what his Exec wants. He wants two elements, max. The fact that David actually liked the flavour is nothing short of a fucking miracle. Carmen could throw up. He’s definitely getting an ulcer, again. Where’s your Tums? Fuck, you took it with you, didn’t you? 

It’s embarrassing how many rules he forgets to implement, when he cooks for you. Boundless, unrestricted— When he cooks for you. Doesn't cut a single concept. It’s mortifying that someone other than you ate it, let alone David fucking Fields.

Carmen’s eyes feather, almost closing, but not completely. He scratches his fingers through his hair, destroying the cast of gel it’s been stuck in. His curls are desperately trying and failing to reform. It doesn’t matter how much he runs his hands through it, he cannot get it to smell like you again. He cannot find you in himself, he cannot find you in his kitchen. That’s what annoyed him, earlier, wasn’t it? That you were everywhere? That you were carved in, everywhere? He thought he didn’t want that?

His knees bounce where he stands, he bumps into his jacket under the table. Right. You left it. Are you cold? Turtleneck was thin. You looked so good. You always look good. Better, in his clothes, but you always look good. Did he remember to tell you that? Probably not.

“Where—” Fuck, he really is going to throw up. “Where we at on Booth Twelve’s dessert tray, Chef?”

You said it was okay for Carmen to give your number out. You gave your dish out. You shelled yourself out, for Carmen. It feels like a cave is being hollowed out, in his throat. He is so angry and he doesn’t know who it’s for. He doesn’t know where to put it. Is that what happened twenty-three— twenty-four minutes ago? Did he give it to you? No, he gave it to Richie, right? That’s how it started. Marcus hands off the dessert paddle to expo, silently. No one wants to talk to Carmen. That’s probably fair. What did he say? Probably bad. It’s already huge they haven’t walked out on him, yet. Has anyone walked out, yet?

Marcus is here, Syd is still out back— Well, actually, she might’ve left with you, she should if she can. Are you still out there? Tina wipes her eyes, working at the oven you fixed thirty— No, forty— Fuck— Earlier. It’s probably the onions from the broth making her tear up. No, it definitely is. Fak is out front, Sweeps is out front, Richie is still out back.

What did he say to Richie? Something about kids? There are no servers to hand off dessert to stupid fucking booth twelve. Carmen cannot keep looking at the family he’s ruined, in whatever way he managed to ruin it. He grabs the dessert tray. He’ll deliver it himself. He can do it all himself. He’s good by himself.

You’ve been out of Carmen’s life for 0ERR minutes. Yeah. That’s exactly how long it feels like.

“Try it try it try it.” You mumble, hurriedly, excitedly, to Marcus. The bread guy. He’s the nicest of the bunch, so far. You hand him the mug. He takes a sip of the coffee you’ve been perfecting for the last six jobs here, give or take. You’ve been in The Beef’s life for two months or so.

“Holy shit.” He nods, digesting it— Actually digesting it, which means— “It’s edible.”

“I know!” You all but shout, too excited to hide it. You’ve finally figured out how to make this thing produce what it’s supposed to— Instead of what is essentially arsenic with coffee flavouring.

Your excitement makes a line cook behind you grimace. The one you’ve still got yet to win over. “My ears, kid.”

“Sorry.” You reply lightly. Your back is turned to her, so she can’t see you cringe to Marcus, crying for help, practically. He’s sympathetic. He kept saying you just need to prove yourself, but it’s been taking forever, what else can you prove?

He decides to fast track you. “Yo, T.” She nods. She respects Marcus. But you’re just some girl that’s been in her walkway for the past seven weeks. “Try it.” He hands her your edible coffee.

She rolls her eyes, already nonplussed, but she takes the coffee. She is genuinely impressed, for a split second, before it turns into a coy sarcasm. “Wow— You’ve made not poison, great job, baby.”

“I’m gonna get better.” You respond instantly. That’s something you noticed Tina likes. Quickness. “I’m gonna make you a good coffee.” Determination, too.

“Bold.”

“Thank you—”

“No.” She pushes the coffee to your chest; you grab it before it spills. “I like it bold.”

God, she’s so scary. “Heard.” She’s so cool. 

She watches you, for a second; wants to see if you crack. You don’t, thankfully. She folds. She finally kinda likes you— Or rather, is willing to admit it, in some small way. “You can come tonight.”

You can come to family, tonight. It takes everything in you not to cheer. You should mix them drinks. Or is that too try hard? No, it’s the perfect amount of try— Right? It was your old party trick in college, you should use it. Prove yourself.

“Cool.” Is all you can say, without seeming like a desperate nerd. 

You've been slowly cutting away at every relationship in your life, par for your family— And even that hangs by a thread— And you thought you were fine with that. You thought you were good like that, but once you got used to The Weirdos of The Beef, you cannot help but desperately want friends, again.

Every moment you get outside of your twelve to twenty-four hour EMS shifts, you spend it here. You’re tired, but it might actually be worth it; to talk to people instead of rotting in your apartment for half a week every week.

What month is it? March? When's Squid's birthday again? Did you miss it? It's the one time a year you get to talk without the underlying pressure that you have to hang out now.

Happy Birthday, what have you been up to? Oh, same thing as last year? You're irrevocably a different person now but you're also still the same? Nothing much? Same here. We should see each other soon. We won't. I won't say I love you because I don't want to be weird. Even though we used to say it every day. I will never know you like I used to, and so I won't even try. Same time next year?

Working in The Beef reminds you of her. Reminds you of the other stubborn cook in your life. Was in your life? Don’t think about that. Sometimes you hear her dad's voice out front, buying himself a half-hot half-sweet braised beef sandwich. Sometimes you think about going out there and saying hi. Sometimes you think about asking about Syd. Sometimes you think about asking how the catering gig is going. Sometimes you think about asking if she needs you anymore.

You never do.

“Aye.” Mikey claps your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. You didn't even realize he was behind you. He digs his hands in, a sudden and always painful massage. His preferred way of saying stop fucking tweaking. He leans over your shoulder, looking at the coffee cup that doesn't look as pitiful as it usually does. “Good job, kid.”

“Thank you—” “Now figure out how to make it worth drinking.”

You scoff, rolling your shoulders to push him off you. “I'm fuckin’ trying!” 

His hands stay in place, but his massage does become gentle, and actually decent. Per usual. You’re not sure how he always manages to get the knots. “T say you can come to family?” 

You had to get all yeses that you are now in fact family to join for family. You look over your shoulder to face him. “Mhm.” 

“Good.” He looks around. “Your dad here?” 

You nod. “In the basement, something about your furnace? It's fucking beyond my skill set, so I'm up here until he needs me.” As much as your dad started doing this to hang out with you, heads got too hot with you fucking up which tools to hand him one too many times; repeatedly yelling same team in a more and more distressed tone did not seem to be helping either. Whatever. Gave you more time with the coffee machine. You’re going to make this thing your bitch, one day. One day this thing is going to sing for you.

“Oh, good.” And with that, he's already pulling you to his station. “You can help me with family brisket, then.” 

“Nooooo—” “If you want family you gotta be family, Jack.” 

You whine, but you don't mind this at all. Mikey sees you. Mikey knows you; probably better than he should. He knows you always need something to do.

“Pork?” “Pork.” “Fine.” It's your recipe, so you must oblige.

He's good. Mikey is good. Mikey pays attention. Mikey's made the cycle break in a way that doesn't hurt.

Carmen needs to apologize to Richie, for never taking his stress over running front of house seriously.

Carmen hates being out front already and he’s only just stepped out. Why is everyone looking at him out here, too? He should also apologize for whatever he said forty minutes ago. Thirty-five? Doesn’t matter. What’s important is handing this dessert tray to the fucking jagoff. The man who Carmen dreamed of becoming, the man who he’s now scared he’s become. David Fields. Former Executive Chef. Too many accolades to list. 

“Dessert is served, hope you enjoy, Chef.” Carmen manages to bite his tongue for this guy, so why can’t he do it for the people he actually gives a fuck about? He’s a fucking coward. He swallows, setting the dessert paddle down in front of the stupid five fucking guests. Far too big a party, for a fucking walk in. And all they got for dessert was the fucking tasting paddle? Why are they skimping now? Assholes. All of them. Carmen knows all of these people. Well. Knows their faces. Remembers working with them, but never really talked to any of them. Why would he? He was focused. He was good.

“Thank you, Chef.” Says David. It feels like lightning, to hear those words. But not in a good way. It should feel like an accomplishment, to hear this guy say anything remotely positive, to Carmen, but it doesn’t. It feels the opposite, honestly. Feels like something’s wrong. Getting this guy’s approval is wrong.

This is the part where Carmen is supposed to leave. This is the part where the server goes back to the kitchen and continues their job. But he can’t. He’s stuck in place. He’s back in front of the fire, and he’s not putting it out. Carmen swallows hard and his spit feels like glass all the way down his throat. His Exec stares at him, nearly coy— Like he knows. Like he can see the invisible snake coiling around Carmen. Like he knows that Carmen desperately has something to say. 

“Let’s have it, Chef.” David goads.

Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck it. Not like the night can get worse. “Can we step out, for a second, Chef?”

“Lookit this.” Mikey pivots his phone to you, for you to see a photo he's just been sent.

It's of… “What the fuck is that?” You've got no clue. Some weird spiralling array of colours. 

“I've no fucking clue. Food? Apparently?”

It's April, and Mikey has let you in. You will not realize how big a deal this is until it's too late. But right now, you're just happy to be hanging out with him before open. Without your dad, too.

Their most frequent regular’s favourite chair broke, one of the legs just fully gave out underneath him. It's an easy fix. Mikey could probably do it himself. Fak or whatever the fuck his name is could absolutely do it himself. Mikey called you, instead. Called you. Not your dad. You think this'll be your first and last solo job. Naive.

“Carmy?” You assume, he's the only person that's on that rich people shit. Michelin Star Chef, baby boy with big dreams.

“Yessir. He’s still killin’ it.” Is all Mikey says, tucking his phone away. You frown at him, screwing the chair leg in, sitting on the floor. He groans. “Don't gimme those eyes, Jack.”

“You should reply!”

“He doesn't need a fuckin' reply.” 

You tilt your head, the look you give him translates to ‘Are you forreal?’

He just sighs, exasperated. “You don't get brothers, Jack.”

“I literally have brothers, Michael.”

“Yeah but it's—” He gestures to the general air, attempting to explain nothing. “It's different. We communicate different.”

“Sure.” You can admit that. “I'm sure the dynamic is very different brother to brother, brother to sister. But like—” You jiggle the chair leg, alright maybe it's not that easy of a fix. “It sucks bein’ the baby, I know that much.”

“You're the baby?”

“Yeah, why?” You lift your head from the chair back to him. “I got middle child energy? I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” 

“No, no— Oldest.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Thought you were one of me, Jack. My own blood.”

You scoff. But it’s not something you haven’t heard before. You’ve got the blood of people who’ve had to take care of people. “Well, being the only sister kinda made me the oldest sister.”

You pad your hand around the floor, searching, before looking up to Michael, again. “You see the fuckin—?”

He tosses you the chair leg cap, before you can finish asking for it. “You’d like Nat. Similar ideologies.”

“I would love to know how your younger sister fuckin’ survived you, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, at that. “She’s a trooper. Surrounded by some of the worst men Chicago has to offer.” He looks at the coffee that you painstakingly crafted for him, this morning. “This is actually kinda fuckin’ good, Jack.”

“Do you have to add actually and kinda?”

He rolls his head back, neck straining. “For what you had, it’s fuckin’ perfection, alright? Happy?”

“Fuckin’ delighted.” You throw the chair up onto its legs, and it stands. “You?”

He gets up from his seat to try out the chair. He takes the coffee with him. There’s a split second where you’re scared that actually this was too hard a job for you and Mikey is going to fall and the hot coffee is going to careen everywhere and fucking scald him and you told him he needed to get a first-aid kit in here but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet—

Mikey sits, and the chair works. He takes another sip of your chai coffee blend, like a vote of his confidence. He never had any doubt you could get the coffee machine to work, never had any doubt you could make a good coffee, never had any doubt you could get the chair to stand strong. Mikey has always always believed in your capabilities, even when you haven’t, and has always been happy to prove yourself to yourself. Mikey is really good at being an older brother, you think. And forget that he never texted back the real baby of his real family.

“Fuckin’ delighted, Jackie.”

“Never fuckin’ call me Jackie.”

“Heard.”

Two executive chefs stand in front of a restaurant, there’s probably a joke in here somewhere. Carmen doesn’t care to find it. He watches your car drive out onto the road, out of the corner of his eye. That’s it, then. You’re gone. He fishes a pack of cigarettes out from the chest pocket of his chef’s uniform. 

“You should quit.” Says David, so high and fucking mighty. As if he doesn’t house a bottle of wine daily.

“I’m aware.” Carmen lights it anyways. You don’t smoke. Did his mouth taste bad, every time he’d kiss you? Probably. You probably just bore it for his sake. Maybe that’s why you so rarely went for his lips. He takes a puff, it doesn’t calm him down. 

“Your hair is fucked.” 

“And the food?”

“Busy. You can lose the basil and eggplant. You’ll re-learn.” David tilts his head, thinking, smarmy. “Someone got in your head.”

“Someone other than you, yeah.”

“Awe.” David smiles, something he so rarely did in the kitchen, but perfected in public. His tone is so perfectly pouty, like it’s disappointing he’s not the only one living rent free in Carmen’s brain anymore.

Carmen steadies his eyes forward, to the street. He cannot look his own personal nightmare in the eyes, but he can say what he’s always wanted to say. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

“How am I an asshole?” “Can you stay ‘til after close?” “You’re welcome.”

Carmen turns his head to face him now, eyes wide like plates. “I— I’m welcome? For—For-for what?”

“You were an okay chef, when you started with me.” David doesn’t fear eye contact. David’s probably never had a bad day in his fucking life. “And you left an excellent chef, so you’re welcome.”

Carmen’s never even heard the fucking word excellent come out of this man’s mouth. Let alone to describe him. It doesn’t feel good, for some reason. It still doesn’t feel good to receive praise from him, despite the fact that he’s everything. 

“You…” Carmen needs a second, to catch his breath. He probably should quit smoking. “You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and— and nightmares— You— You know that? You understand that?”

“Yeah.” David’s entirely unfazed. All he’s heard is a list of benefits, in his head. “I gave you confidence and leadership and ability— It fucking worked.”

Is this what it working is supposed to feel like? Is this what it feels like to function? Is this what it means, to make it? If it is, then what the fuck does not making it feel like?

“I’m— I’m, I’m— I’m actually fuckin’ stunned, right now, I—” Carmen rubs his hands over his eyes. “My life stopped.”

“That’s the point.”

“That’s the point?”

“You wanted to be excellent. You got rid of all the bullshit, you concentrated, you focused— And you got excellent. And it worked. You’re here.”

You’re not bullshit. You’re not bullshit and he shouldn’t have done whatever he did to make you leave. Carmen is anything but excellent, without the people behind him, and he’s realizing that now. He’s an idiot, because you told him this, the second day of knowing him you told him this. He has a wonderful team— A family— A family he now considers you a part of. And he tanked all of it, everyone— Why? Because he had a bad fucking day? Because a dish got sent back? Because he fucked up tremendously? Boo-fucking-hoo, Carmen. It takes an idiot like David, who thinks he’s a genius, for Carmen to realize they look exactly the fucking same— And that is the actual thing that’s mortifying, tonight.

The real mortifying thing, isn’t that you were so fucking sweet and considerate of his stupid fucking brain and his stupid insane aspirations— It isn’t your dish. The mortifying thing is he prioritized the man in front of him, in any regard. It’s mortifying that Carmen made you feel like you had to prioritize the man in front of him.

“I just— I just made the—The only fuckin’ good thing in my life leave because— Because you got in my fucking head.”

David just raises his brows, like Carmen’s fucking stupid. Like there’s not a problem here. Because to him, there isn’t. And once again, the stupid fucking Exec repeats. “You’re welcome?”

“I’m—” The door opens, and for a moment, despite the fact that he watched your car disappear minutes ago, Carmen still thinks there’s a chance it’s gonna be you; begs a higher power that it’s going to be you. It’s not. It’s Richie. 

“Hey asshole—” Richie stops, when he sees David. “Ah. You’re needed, Chef Carmen.”

“Cousin— You’re needed, pronto.” 

“Not your Cousin.”

“Heard and resented.”

Richie’s had a habit of calling you cousin, lately. You pull your head out of the back of the Ball-Breaker arcade machine. Its controls are allegedly on the fritz, but you’re pretty sure Chi-Chi just sucks at this game. “Whaddya need? Do I have to run front a-fucking-gain?”

That was a fun out of nowhere three hour shift with zero restaurant experience— Par for bar. It will not be the last.

“Nono— Just a cuppa coffee? More like six.” 

You kiss your teeth, tutting him. “You know how the fuckin’ machine works—”

“Want your coffee?” He corrects, like stroking your ego will make you fold. It does. You stand up, stretching your legs.  

“Fine. Just get me a list of everyone’s—” He slaps a folded note against your forehead. “Orders.” 

“Fucker.” You take it off your head to read. “Whatta ‘bout Mikey’s?” He’s missing from the list.

Richie shrugs. “Surprise him, he’s out back— In one of his moods.”

You don’t know how uncommon it is for Mikey to be so out of it. You’re meeting Mikey during his slow but certain downward spiral, but you don’t know that. No. How could you? No, so you think it’s normal for Mikey to occasionally leave rooms and turn inward. 

“Aye aye, Rich.”

He kisses your temple as you pass him, making an all too aggressive ‘muah’ noise, because that’s what fake Italians do, as a form of thanks, and lets you go work your magic on the coffee machine. 

You’re pretty integrated into The Beef, at this point. How long has it been? You don’t really need this list of orders, but it’s good to visually ingrain in your brain. You’re thankful to Mikey for investing in a bunch of Torani’s syrups for your coffee dreams. You’re here enough for it to be worth it, anyways. 

You’re probably gonna start being here a lot more, soon. Well, maybe.

You haven’t told anyone yet, about what your dad told you this morning. That he’s gotta retire, soon. Like soon, soon. Now, you’re faced with a decision— Keep going with this EMS thing until your body fails and you need to be wheeled out by your own coworkers, or take on ownership of a small family business directly after the fucking pandemic. Really good options, here.

You’re leaning towards the latter, at the moment. You’re leaning towards being called here, for half your jobs. It’d be hard to make ends meet on just whatever crack change Mikey is able to pay you— But you used to bartend in college— You could work dailies whenever you’re short. Probably. It probably won’t be that hard. Could it be harder than what you’re doing now? Could it be harder than watching someone flat line? Probably not.

Ebra, watered down black coffee. T, two sugars, one milk, cinnamon and chocolate syrup. Marcus, spiced coffee. Sweeps, water in a deli cup— A delicacy. Richie, two sugars, cinnamon syrup, ideally boiling hot. 

But to be fair, people need someone like you. People need paramedics. Is it selfish for you to decide you can’t handle it anymore? Should you let your body break before you let yourself go on one? Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Mikey? You’re feeling the knots build up again. 

Out back. Richie said he’s out back. You pick up your coffee, and Mikey’s— cinnamon and caramel, this time— And head out back. 

And you see a sight that you’ve actually seen plenty of times.

You’ve just never seen it in the back alley of The Beef. You’ve just never seen it happen to a friend. You’ve just never seen it happen to Mikey. You don’t drop your coffee cups in some sort of dramatic shock, or anything like that. Because that would take time. It’d take too much time to be shocked. You just turn around, immediately, partially crashing into the door as you run back in, breaking the mugs and spilling scalding hot coffee over your hands and chest— You don’t feel it, you don’t give a fuck. 

“Cousin!” 

You’re a mom friend. That’s what Syd used to say. You carry Tums, painkillers, cough drops, pepto— All in your purse or pockets. You keep a lighter on hand. You keep safety pins— All ranging in size, just in case of a clothing mishap. You keep kid’s band-aids in your wallet. You’re a mom friend. Everyone used to find you also carrying a naloxone kit a bit dramatic, like you were overdoing it. You always hoped they were right; that it would never be used. Regardless, you'd always replace it when it expired.

“Cousin get my fucking bag, now!”

“Right.” Carmen’s honestly kind of surprised, to be needed. But it’s probably just cover, to talk. People don’t typically need people like him, especially not Richie. He nods to David. “Chef.”

“Chef.” David nods back. He looks at Richie. “Where’d your translator go?”

The fuck? Richie does not look phased, at all. He also looks like he’s been crying— So it might just be that nothing phases him, right now— But at the very least, Carmen would expect some surprise. So this disrespect must not be new. Why didn’t he tell him?

Maybe he did, actually. Maybe that’s what happened forty minutes ago? How’d that lead to you leaving? 

“My what?” Richie knows exactly what David’s getting at, but he asks anyways, to embarrass the fucker.

But David doesn’t feel embarrassment, it’s just not in him. “Your somme.”

“She had to leave early.”

“Ah,” He nods, “You’ve got her number, by chance?”

A deep and sharp exhale, through Richie’s nose, as he desperately tries to be a good host. Tries to be star material. But he runs his tongue across his top teeth and he just can’t bring himself to bite it. Richie hates both of the men in front of him right now. “I do, I do, actually— I’ve had her number for three years, memorized, y’know why?”

David shrugs, delighted to upset someone. “She your wife or something?”

A sharp, terrifying chuckle, honestly— One that hides any sign of a smile. Rich steps forward. “Oh, I should be so lucky. I would be so fucking lucky, if a woman like that—” And he pivots his head, to speak very deliberately, to Carmen. “Decided for some Godforsaken fuckin’ reason, that I was worth an ounce of her precious time— Let alone her hand.”

“If only, truly, David.” Still looking at Carmen, squarely in his face. “If fuckin’ only. If I had someone like that— I’d be on hand and fucking knee, for her.”

“Chef.” Carmen’s talking to David but looking at Richie, but that might also be because he can’t look anywhere else. 

“Chef.” David shrugs, whatever fight here is beyond him. He doesn’t fucking care. Carmen knows the Michelin thing was bullshit—Certainly David can put in a good word, but inspectors are anonymous, that’s the whole point. But his stupid fucking Exec wanted to see if Carmen would stoop so low as to take the bait. It also wouldn’t hurt to get your number, you’re perfect. Carmen doesn’t think he’d have taken the bait, but the fact that he’s not sure speaks volumes.

David steps back into The Bear, and an Executive Chef and his dead brother’s best friend stand outside their restaurant. There’s a joke in here somewhere, and it’s probably Carmen.

“I’d fucking kill him.” You shake your head, when Mikey tries to brush off the end of his story like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe no one fuckin’ said anything.”

“They might’ve.” He sniffs, arms crossed— Guarding himself. He sits opposite of you, both sitting on the floor of his office, backs against either wall. “But I couldn’t fuckin’ hear anything but him— And then the fucking car, obviously.”

You can tell he’s trying to move on. He wants you to ask if his mom was okay. You don’t honestly care, and you don’t care if that makes you a bad person, either. 

“You’re not nothing, Mikey.”

It’s close to midnight, a humid but cool August midnight. A week or so, since Mikey’s overdose. You’re finally christening your jumpsuit with a patch from The Beef, on the left shoulder. You do keep stabbing yourself with the sewing needle— If you were sleeping beauty you’d be fucking dead. 

“I know.”

“Mikey, you’re not.”

“Don’t fucking Good Will Hunting me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You both laugh, but you’re still stuck with him, at that dining table, in your head. You’re still hearing Uncle Lee screaming, despite never actually hearing it. “They should’ve said something.”

“It’s different when you’re there.” He shrugs, again. “Hard to speak in those rooms.” 

Your lips stay tight, for a moment. There’s a long silence of just staring at each other, because you want him to know that you’re completely serious when you say— “I would’ve said something.”

“Sug tried to say somethin—” “She told you to stop, that’s bullshit.” “She was mediating—”

“And why the fuck were you the one that needed to calm down, exactly?” You frown, deeply. You don’t have anything against Sug, but this story just rubs you the wrong way. The way no one was on his side verbally. “Just cause you’re the guy, means you can’t stick up for yourself? I hate that shit.”

He thinks on that, for a moment; because no one has ever said the thing out loud, never acknowledged it. He nods, tucking one knee up to rest an arm on it. “It sucks, being the guy.”

“It fucking sucks to be the guy!” You shout back, emphatic, practically jumping to agree— You jab yourself again. “Fuck, ow— Yes, it sucks.”

“And—” You’ve really opened a faucet for him. “And no one wants you to acknowledge that you’re the guy— Like you can take the compliment, but you can never say ‘I know, I’m doing it on purpose.’”

You poke at the tip of your nose with one hand and then to Mikey with the other, bang on. “No one wants the guy to know they’re the guy!”

“We always know!” “We always fucking know!” “We’re the guy on purpose!”

It’s rare for people like you two to talk and actually get along. The typical stereotype is that two sweethearts will always end up butting heads, too intimidated— But instead, you’re both just able to honestly commiserate over being who you are. The Guy. The Dependable One. The Head.

“You shouldn’t have to always be good and—and like, understanding of every single fucking person— Especially when they’re a dick!” You yell, exasperated. “You are allowed to fucking stick up for yourself!”

He tightens his lips in a line, because he agrees, but he has been so trained to lay down and take it. To take the teeth; it’s one of the many many jobs of being the guy. You know it just as well. He sighs, “I know.”

“You’re worth standing up for, Mikey.” You emphasize. They should’ve said something. It shouldn’t have been on you. You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself. They should’ve protected you, like you did for them. Like you always do for them. 

His eyes flicker, a bit. He clears his throat and punches his chest, shaking his head out of it, because if he doesn’t, he might actually fucking cry, and that’s not what the guy does. “Okay.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He kicks your foot with his. “Now tell me some fucked up thing that happened to you, Jack.”

You laugh, and it quickly turns into a groan as you try to come up with something. “I uh… Oh! I fuckin’ hate the nickname ‘Jack’, that’s something.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, teasingly intrigued— You’ve thrown him a bone, because you’re the guy, too. He’s able to focus on this in lieu of himself.

You nod and continue. “My dad gave it to me, when I was really really little, like five or six— And it was ‘cause I like— For a kid, I was really into uhm, like— Like everything?”

“Like a nerd?” “Like a nerd.”

You chuckle. “I liked helping him go on jobs, and barely being able to hold flashlights. And I liked learning what all the wires and the pipes do— I liked doing chores and like— Making shit for people, or doing shit for people, if it made ‘em happy.” You’re a little too zoned in, on your sewing. The motion helps keep you grounded. “And so he would go like Awe, my helpful little Jack of all Trades, you can do it all.”

You pull the string up and out of the fabric, taught, dramatically high. “Which like, of course he was trying to be like, a good dad and hype me up— But my kid brain just garbled it and translated ‘you can do it all’ to ‘you have to do it all.’”

“Damn.” He cringes but laughs, sympathizing. “You got ‘guy’d’ at fuckin’ five?”

“Well, when did you get ‘guy’d?!” You snap back, he takes a moment to think about it, sighing.

He shrugs. “Probably five.” “Exactly!”

You both laugh, a bit too aggressively, honestly; compensating for the sting. Mikey sniffs, adding. “So that’s why you hate it? ‘Cause of the weight?”

“‘Cause of the weight.” You nod. “Like a constant reminder, that I need to be like— constantly at service.”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes looking down. Thinking about far too much, and though you have become his closest confidant, there are still parts of him that he won’t show. “Drinking helped?”

“Drinking helped.” You close the last stitch on the patch. “Which is funny, because that whole thing started from wanting to be helpful.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“There was uhm—” You can’t help but laugh a little, at the ridiculousness of it. “There was this girl, and she was my best friend, and she fucking loved— Or I guess still loves— Cooking. And even as a dinky little highschooler, she’d have me try shit, and it’d be like— So luxe.”

“Right.” Mikey smiles, thinking of all the dishes that have been foisted on him by the precocious cook in his life.

“And I wanted to be like… equally impressive. So I started doing research on wine pairings and shit, so I could have something to talk to her about, have somethin’ to say other than wow great job— Because I could tell she always wanted more.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “I haven’t gotten there yet!” “Well stop burying the lead!” “Oh don’t you point a finger when it comes to burying a fucking lead.” “Oh, fuck you.”

“Anyways!” You clap a hand on your knee, casting aside the completed sew job. “I’d give her pairings based on research— still teens, so we couldn’t drink yet, but she appreciated the thought. And then I went to college and she went to CIA and we were talking and then we graduated and suddenly we weren’t…” You knock your fist against your hand a couple times. “We weren’t talking, anymore.” 

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “Kinda.” “Oh. I was being sarcastic.” “Yeah, dontchu feel guilty as fuck now?” “What happened?”

“It was easy.” You shrug. “I started working at pubs in college, I was getting free drinks all the time, I was trying more wines for her— I didn’t really see it as a problem, because like, I didn’t do it to function, I never reached for anything like ‘oh I fucking need this.’”

“That’s how it starts.”

“That’s how it fuckin’ starts.” You nod. “Then suddenly we weren’t talking and I became an E-M-T, and then suddenly I was watching people y’know, live through the worst moment of their lives or die, and I— Suddenly I did need that drink.” You should’ve just called her. She would’ve done a lot more for you than a bottle could. But you were stupid and tired, and still are.

“Who coulda thunk it?” “I know! Ridiculous.”

“How long you been stable, again?” 

“Six months, four days… But who’s counting?” You laugh, and so does he.

You’re both very literally counting. And the buzzer of a timer going off on your phone reminds you of that. You both stare at it, in a daze, as it officially hits Twelve in the morning. Once you silence it, you look to Mikey. 

“Michael The Bear Berzatto, you have officially been sober for twenty-four hours.”

He smiles, no teeth, but he smiles. “Gimme.”

“Be patient!” “I am being the most patient a person can be.” “Yeah that’s fair.”

You opt to go for the cupcake first, a big One candle sticking out of it. “This is stupid.” Says Mikey. “Have some fucking whimsy in the face of adversity.” Says you, pulling out your disposable camera. 

“Do we need photos?” “What the fuck else are we gonna put in my folder?” “I dunno, write me sonnets.” 

“Do you want sonnets?” You ask, and the worst part is Michael can tell you’re being sincere. You would write him sonnets, if he only asked. You would do anything, if he only asked. You quit being an EMT, immediately after seeing the state he was in, last week. You are here for Michael, and he only has to ask.

He shakes his head and blows out the candle when you lift the cupcake to his face, and he makes a wish to whatever higher power exists, that he won’t drag you down with him. 

You thread a 24 Hours in Recovery chip onto the embroidery thread you were using and tie it off. When you present it to him, he bends his head down. “Chip me.”

“That’s not what chip me means.” “It means something?” “I’m pretty sure chipping someone means shooting someone—” “Well Google it, Chip.” “Well, fuck, ok— Chip?”

He shrugs, “Better than Jack, no?”

You throw the necklace over his neck, like you’re knighting him. You grow a great degree softer. Even when he’s deliberately not supposed to be The Guy, when he’s supposed to be working on himself, he’s still your guy. Still looking out for you just as much as you look out for him. He will never realize that you consider the exchange equal.

“Yeah, better than Jack.”

“This sobriety thing is going to be easy.” “ —Okay, so— The thing is, everyone kinda says that after twenty-four hours and then a week or two in, it actually hits—” “It’s gonna be so easy.” “I love that you think that and I want you to keep that hope up, I also think maybe let’s just be easy on ourselves if it gets hard—” “It’s not gonna get hard.” “That’s what she said—” “Fucking gross!”

He throws his arm over your shoulder, a loving noogie, but a noogie nonetheless. You try to hit him from below, it’s a failed flailing. You both start laughing and he stops, opting to just hold you there. You hold his forearm with your hands, and sigh.

“...Even when it’s not easy, we’re on the same team, okay? Don’t forget that. That we’re on the same team and I love you.”

He squeezes you a little, bicep curling. In fifteen seconds you will complain that he’s choking you, but right now, he says, “I’m not gonna forget you love me, Chip.” and neither of you know this is a lie, yet.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen sniffs, is he actually going to cry? Holy shit, he might cry. “I don’t know what I said—”

“You don’t know what you said?” Richie scoffs, he can’t help but laugh. “You don’t know what you fuckin’ said? Ah— It’s— It’s all good, man. You don’t know what you said, so it’s all good—”

“I’m apologizing—” “Nonono— No— It’s all good, I don’t need a fuckin’ apology. I know how you feel now, so it’s all fuckin’ good.”

“I love you—” “You love me? You love me? Oh, that would’ve been nice to hear half a fucking hour ago.”

Has it really only been thirty minutes?

“No— No, you know what?” Richie takes a choked breath, pressing his index finger over his nose and mouth, then points it to Carmen. “If that’s what your fuckin’ love is— I don’t fuckin’ want it. And I don’t want that shit for Chip, either— So leave her the fuck out of your fuckin’ love or whatever the fuck you think that is, too.”

That one hurts, because it’s true. Carmen can’t say anything to that; the silence just eggs Richie on more. “Oh, was that a low blow, to you? Cause I’d say saying it was her fault was a pretty low fucking blow— Kinda below the belt shit, if you ask me—”

“What?”

A silence louder than anything either of them have ever heard hangs in the air.

“Fuck you mean what?”

“I said what?” Carmen’s spit still feels like glass, he is destroying his throat. “What—What did I say?”

Stunned, Richie is stunned. And he can’t tell if Carm’s lack of cognizance in the situation makes him more or less angry. He’s pretty sure it’s more. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Cousin, what the fuck did I say to her?”

“You said she failed him.”

Yeah, Carmen’s gonna cry. Carmen is absolutely going to cry. Not weeping, but a tear. Just the one. Just the one, and the dry heaving. The dry heaving and just short of falling over, managing at the last minute to fall onto his rear. He slides his back against the full length window of The Bear. All the guests will get to witness his full blown meltdown. Who fucking cares. He cards through his semi-matted hair, again— It’s not fucking working. It’s not working and he might as well tear his hair out because there’s no reason for it anymore if you're not in it.

“I am a monster.” Not said like a question, not said with emphasis, not choked. Completely monotone. Zero pulse. Said as a fact as simple as the sky is blue. And it is. Because now that he remembers that one thread, he can follow it back. “I am bullshit.”

It’s hard to kick someone, when they’re down. It’s hard to say all the things you want to say to a person, when they’re just saying it about themselves. Richie just stares, debating his options. He could so easily choose to destroy what’s left of Carmen. Frankly, Carm’s sitting at the perfect angle to kick his fucking teeth in. Richie came out here with full intent of throwing Carmen through the window. Came out here with the full intent of proving he’s a fucking problem.

“...I don’t know how to fix it.” But Carmen looks up at him, with a never before seen level of humility. “How do I fix it?”

His best friend loved this guy, and unfortunately you also seem to be on the verge of loving this guy. And even more regrettably, Richie loves this guy. He shrugs, and to any onlookers, his response would seem to be lacking any level of empathy. 

“Stop being you.”

“You don’t love me!”

“Of course we fuckin’ love you!”

“You don’t fucking love me!”

Like tidal waves, Richie and Mikey crash against either side of the walk-in freezer door. Mikey desperately trying to escape the freezer; you and Richie desperately trying to keep him in. 

Your phone rings, in the middle of this. “Ah, shit, she’s calling back, hold on—” You slide your back off the door slowly, giving Richie time to place extra weight where your body was to keep it closed as Mikey relentlessly slams. He’s pivoted to screaming like— Well, a bear, now. 

You move just a few feet away— Enough to fog up the yelling, but not enough that you couldn’t run back to Richie if his arms start to numb. 

“Yo, T.” You answer, thankful that somebody has finally returned your fucking calls. To be fair, it’s painfully early— But how is no one awake an hour before they have to clock in? C’mon.

“We’re doing this because we love you, fuckin’ numb nuts!” 

“Don’t be fuckin’ mean when he’s in a vulnerable state!” You kiss your teeth, yelling to Richie behind you, just as Tina tries to say hi. 

“I am not a fucking patient, Chip!” Another slam, another violent jiggling of the door handle. You’re pretty sure that shit is going to break off one day, if he keeps doing that. You don’t know how right you are now, but you will in a year or so. “Open the fucking door!”

You only remember you’re on the phone with Tina when she pipes up, vaguely hearing the yelling on her end. “...Two week milestone going well?”

“Just fucking peachy, T.” You grimace, rubbing the space between your brows. “You think it’s healthy to lock him in the freezer? I feel like we are fucking this up.”

“Why’s he in the freezer?”

“Guess who was—” You turn your head to Richie, when you speak into the phone. “So fucking stupid— And left his fucking xanax just out in the open with his unfinished breakfast?”

“I apologized—” “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, Cousin! Now open the fucking door!”

“Yeah, I think freezer is the right call.” Says Tina; you’re both not sure if that’s true, but at the very least when he’s in there he can’t hurt himself or either of you. But fuck, he must be cold. Maybe that’s good for his nervous system? Every yell just mounts with guilt— But you’re his sponsor now. You are not his friend right now, you’re his mentor and you’re meant to do this. This is definitely— slam— the right thing—scream—to do.

“Yeah, probably.” You nod, to no one. “Well, basically, if you can let everyone know to just— Not fucking come in, today, or at the very least not come in for like— At least three hours. Maybe six. It’s not like you can work anyways, the freezer’s off limits until further notice.”

“You sure you don’t need us to come in?”

“Ah, T, that’s a nice thought but—” You wince, as you hear a crash from inside the walk-in. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse, for more people to witness this.”

Richie can tell what the crash is, because he himself has dropped shit an innumerable number of times in that walk-in before. “—Did you just knock over the fuckin’ stock—” “Fuck yourself! Fuck yourself! This is my fucking restaurant! Let me the fuck out, Richard!”

“Let’s just say call me back in three hours.” Is what you settle on. You don’t want to see this, and you don’t want anyone else to have to see this. And when Mikey eventually comes out of his rage state, he will be glad that the only two people that actually saw him like this, are his two closest friends. “Can you let everyone else know?”

“Yeah baby, I’ll let ‘em know.” First time Tina’s called you baby with sincerity instead of sarcasm, you wish you could savour it, but you’re so distracted with everything else that you really don’t even notice it. “Keep yourself safe too, alright?”

“Okay, Mama.” You reply with what is really only half sarcasm, and let her go. You sidle up to Richie, back on holding the door closed duty. Backs against the walk-in door, holding Mikey in, despite punch after punch after punch. He’ll wear himself out, eventually, but you’re terrified about how long that’s going to take. So is Richie.

He nods to your phone. “How long?”

You don’t need to check to know. “In six hours, he’ll be at two weeks.” You wince as one of Mikey’s hits against the door very directly targets your back, putting it in knots. “But it’s not like he’s suddenly going to go, oh well it’s been two weeks so I’m normal now, though.”

Richie just nods, pensive. “M’sorry.” 

You shake your head. “I was just bein’ a bitch, we’re all getting used to it, I gettit, just try to be safer.”

He nods again, looking down at you as the beating seems to slow down. Richie tries to imagine a world where you two aren’t here right now; for some reason, he finds that universe more miserable. “We’re so fucked.” Because here it’s you two. You’re so fucked but it’s you two. It will take more than a year for you to figure out that’s how Richie feels.

“I know.” You punch back against the door, alerting Mikey— Not that he wasn’t already alert, and speak to both of them. “Same team, though!”

One last resounding body slam into the door, with everything Mikey has— It moves, just a bit, but not at all enough to open it. And then, a long silence. To the point where you and Richie look at each other, worried if Michael has somehow just died in there. But then a quiet voice speaks, like a white flag being raised. 

“Same team.”

You look to Richie for permission, he’s just as clueless as you are here, as to what the right call is. With the most trepidation one could have, you put your hand on the handle and just start to pull on it, not even close to opening it. But Mikey notices the way the hinge moves by a hair, on the other side. 

“Don’t open it.” You know he’s up to the door, just opposite of you. Not capable of looking at you; not capable of looking at him. “Six hours. It’s just six hours.”

But you can hear each other. And maybe that’s all you really ever needed. To be able to hear each other, even when he’s not here. 

“Six hours. Same team.”

“I don’t know how.” Carmen’s nose twitches. “I don’t know how to stop being fucking—Garbage— I’ve tried—” “Have you?”

It’s a bit knife twisting, from Richie, but necessary. “Have you done the work? Cause it’s— I don’t think you have, Carm.”

“...What the fuck kinda work can I do, to fix me—?” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen, interrupting him. “That— That is the exact fuckin’ problem with you, Cousin.”

Carmen almost rolls his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “What, that I’m self-aware?”

“That you just fuckin’ give up.” “I don’t just give up—” “You do! You give up and you go wah, I’m a Chef with issues and I’m gonna make it everyone else’s fucking problem—” “I am asking for help—” “Are you? Because the last person that helped you just ran out crying.”

Richie exhales, eyes closed. There’s a long forced silence, as a few tables full of patrons exit The Bear, awkwardly shuffling past what is clearly a crisis between the people that have been serving them tonight.

“That was below the belt, I’ll admit.” Says Rich, once they’re out of earshot. 

Carmen just shakes his head, though he cannot look at Richie, though he can’t refute anything. 

Richie steps next to where Carmen sits, and like an olive branch, Carmen lifts up his arm to offer his cigarette. Richie accepts, thank God— Thank you, for softening him up, because if you hadn’t, again, Carmen would be going headfirst through the fucking window right now.

“Don’t yell ‘t me—” That honestly hurts more than getting thrown through a window. “But I don’t think you got Andrea, at all.”

Andrea? Oh. “Chef Terry?” The Ever’s owner, Richie means. 

“Andrea.” Richie nods, taking a puff. “Every second counts— I don’t think you got it.”

Carmen just shrugs, shaking his head, sure, he worked there for years and Richie worked there for days, but sure, he’s the one that didn’t get it. “Yeah? What’d I miss?”

“It’s not meant to make you fuckin—” He gestures to the general form of Carmen. “Tweak. It’s not about speed or— or— like firin’ off on all fuckin’ cylinders.” 

“Then what is it?”

“It counts because it counts.” Richie hands the cig back to Carmen. “It’s— The fucking—” He kisses his teeth, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “When you took like, a million goddamn years to make that fuckin’ mont— Mont— What was it?”

“Montmorency.” Your cherry sauce. Carmen spent too fucking long reducing it, yesterday. He redid it like five times. He’d redone it so many times the autopilot in his brain fucked up that fucking plate yesterday, and it threw his entire life into a spiral. No. That's not what happened. He threw his life into a spiral.

“That was worth it, cause it— Cause it took time. Does that— Am I making any fuckin’ sense? Terry did this shit better, fuck.” Richie rubs a hand over his face, you’d probably be able to explain this better too. “It’s not the thing you’re doing that makes it count, it counts because you’re doing it.”

The value is in the time, not what is delivered. It does not need to be the most special, hyper condensed, hyper focused, upper echelon second to count. It will count because it counts. Time spent is worth it, no matter what was bought. Every second you spend, will always count. All the work and the not work and the love and the not love— It all counts. It counts because it counts. You care therefore you care. Any effort made is good effort. 

Why does Carmen keep taking eons to learn what you are always trying to tell him?

The door opens, again. Instead of more patrons, Syd steps out— Wondering where the fuck her Exec and Host have gone. “Are we good?” 

“No.” Says her Exec and Host. She nods, that’s good, cause she’s not good either. 

“Who’s runnin’ house?”

“No one.” Lies Syd, Tina’s running the back, Sweeps is running the front, but she wants to freak Carmen out a little. She grabs the cigarette from Richie. “Burn the money, I say.”

“So, what you’re asking me to do— If I’m understanding, correctly, which— I might not be— You want me to take all my money, okay, and place it in a fucking furnace? Is that right?”

“So I’m sensing—” You curl your hand in the air. “A touch of hostility, which is fair.”

Bargaining with Uncle Jimmy isn’t the easiest thing in the world— Especially when this is your first time meeting him— And you’re begging him for money. Well, helping Mikey beg him for money. 

“Listen, Uncle, please.” Mikey swallows, leaning in, elbows on the table. It’s nearly the end of January. New year, fresh start. No better time to pitch a half-baked pipe dream in the middle of The Beef’s dining room. “It’s not like I’m brand new to the restaurant gig— We turn profit, here, we can fuckin’ pay people.”

“Can you pay me?” “We will—” “Or you could just let me cut my losses—” “I wanna do something real, Uncle.”

“Why’s she here, again?” You shrink, when Cicero points at you. You swallow. 

“I’m here as… Proof… That he wants to do something real.” You have to stop yourself from doing jazz hands, doubling down on the awkwardness will not make it go away, that is sadly not how that works.

Jimmy stares, for a moment, the cogs in his brain almost audibly whirring, as he stares at the space between you and Mikey, where you sit, at the other side of the booth. “Are you having a fuckin’ baby or somethin?”

The visceral reaction from your side of the booth is immediate. The worst part is he’s not even the first one to ask something like this— No, the manager at Wells Fargo was.

“What the fuck!” “Come on, Uncle…” “Do I— Do I look like a Milf, what the fuck is going on—” “She could be my daughter!” “Alright— So that is a little far, but the sentiment—”

“Alright, shut the fuck up, what is so fucking real that I’m suddenly going to hack up—”

Mikey tosses his necklace onto the table. It shouldn’t be physically possible, because it’s on a string, but it still manages to roll for a comically long time, like a coin, over to Jimmy. To thine own self be true. One Month.

“You will not be giving your money to some fucking junkie, Uncle—”

You wave a hand, interrupting Mikey. “Verbiage.” 

He swallows and nods, taking the note. A hard lesson to learn. “You will not be giving your money to— To— You— You’re gonna give your money to someone who is trying, alright?”

Uncle Jimmy hasn’t looked up from the chip since it landed; Mikey continues. “And— And I’m gonna bring Carmy on, and we’re gonna do like—Like high level shit. Like a real fuckin’ Michelin level—”

“How many times have you gotten to a month?”

“First time.”

Jimmy frowns, crossing his arms. “How many times have you tried getting to a month?”

“Five.” Michael says, “Six.” you correct. Christmas was hard. Christmas was extremely fucking hard. You weren’t with the Berzattos, upon Mikey’s request— And neither was Carmen, upon Mikey’s ignoring him completely. And that made things a little fucking hard. 

Jimmy just nods, arms still crossed. He’s forming some sort of plan, in his head, you’re just not sure what it is yet. He looks to you. “So you’re his sponsor, then?”

“Yessir.” “Do you feel qualified to do that?” “No-sir.”

Mikey kicks you under the table, your proclivity for honesty is not doing a great job selling this whole restaurant idea. You kick him back. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel qualified.”

“You sober?” “Not really.” “Well that’s kind of a key factor, I’ve heard.”

You sigh and lean forward, putting your hands in your lap. This is Mikey’s Uncle— Well, is he, actually? Unsure. But he gives as much of a fuck as you do, so you spill your guts, because you know he’s poking because he’s worried that some kid is taking care of Mikey and it’s the blind leading the fucking blind. 

“I’m stable. I drink, sometimes— But never more than one glass, and never multiple days in a row. I’m coming up on a year, I still attend A-A— Though not as often as I’m told I should— And I’ve told Mikey that turbulent month long benders and a full blown decade long opioid addiction are not the same thing and I really shouldn’t be his sponsor.”

Mikey leans forward as well, then, meeting your level. “And I told Chip— And our coord— That I won’t do the program without her.”

After a long moment of silence, taking his time to digest every bit of information, Jimmy nods to the folder on the table. “N’ this?”

“It’s like a… Proposal?” You look to Mikey for help, he shrugs. This motherfucker— You’re not even a stakeholder in this, why are you talking? You turn back to Jimmy. “It’s like a promise.”

You open the folder, there’s loose sketches you’ve put together of The Bear’s signage, plus Carmen’s original piece— It was fun and weird, to work off of an artist you’ve never met before. There’s also cut outs from the New York Time’s and Food and Wine magazine showing off his award winning talents. 

“We make money now.” Mikey finally chimes in, crossing his arms. “Imagine what we could do with him.”

“It would be cool!” You wingman. A little too excited for someone who’s never even breathed in a Michelin restaurant. “It’d be cool to have, like, a fine-dining establishment on North Orleans.”

“Or you’d completely cut out the audience that already likes The Beef.”

Mikey defends, “The people don’t know what they like, yet.” while you spread out some more papers across the table, showing off screenshots of food Carmen’s texted, that Mikey has never replied to. “They will like this shit— It’s— It’s art, Uncle. When they see this, they won’t give a shit about sandwiches.”

“They’ll give a shit about the price.”

“Uncle, I’m the guy.” Mikey uncrosses his arms, straightening up his posture, because now it’s serious. “I can— We can do this.”

As you continue to spread out papers, Uncle Jimmy stops you, seeing a peculiar page in the pile. He points to it, so you fish it out and hand it to him. He squints. “Joint bank account?”

You nod. “It’s so I can keep an eye on his spending and withdrawals.” Mikey tries not to wince at the fact a kid is in charge of managing his finances. You try not to wince at the fact that despite managing his finances, he's still reset six times.

“Y’know banks are a fuckin’ scam, right?”

You do not entertain Jimmy for a second, finally losing your whimsy. Your leg is shaking underneath the table— Thank God these tables are bolted. “I know that this is the first time in twenty years that my best friend is keeping savings.” 

Not just living paycheck to paycheck, anymore. Not spending every penny on painkillers, anymore. Mikey is saving up because now there is a future to spend it on. Cicero swallows, nodding, eyes looking down, thinking deeply. 

When he speaks again, it’s to say the most insane thing you’ve ever heard. “Ten grand a week.”

Your reply is in sync with Mikey, both jumping forward in your seats. “What?”

“Every week.” Jimmy pushes the chip back to your side of the table. “Every week that you keep going, that’s ten grand.”

You flail your hand under the table, grabbing for Mikey’s— He does the same, and it’s like a contest for who’s going to break who’s hand first, with how hard you’re holding each other. 

Mikey’s first to ask the question, “Is that… Starting now or starting since I—”

“I’m so glad you asked, fuck no, that’s starting now.” He points to you, now. You flinch. “You’re gonna piss test him every fuckin’ week. I’m not fucking around about this.”

“Right. Heard.” You can only nod, because if you express anything else, it might just be screaming forever and ever. He pivots back to Mikey.

“And it’s gonna be cash— It’s not going in that fuckin’ joint, aright?” “Heard.”

“...Alright. Deal.” Cicero comes forward in his seat, and shakes Mikey’s hand. And despite not being a stakeholder, he reaches for yours, too; you shake it, and after a moment, he ruins this excitement stirring in the room, moving out of the booth. “I gotta piss, now.”

When he leaves for the bathroom, Mikey leans his head to you, putting his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Art of the deal.”

You push his face away immediately, laughing. “Shut the fuck up! Why did you make me lead that shit!?”

Tomorrow Mikey will relapse again, and you’ll reset his necklace for the seventh time, but you don’t know that yet. Carmen’s gonna be so excited, when he finally comes back to Chicago and gets a sober brother and his dream restaurant. You’re excited to meet the guy, one day. Fingers crossed he likes you. 

“That was fucking nuts.” Sydney decides that’s the best way to surmise it. “Like more than usual.”

“I’m aware.” Carmen can only nod, and despite the fact that he’s just going to lie down and take this, it does not remove the bitter feeling in her heart at all. Syd’s fucking mad, and she wants him to know. 

“I’ve— I’ve literally only ever seen her cry like, like during Pixar movies or when we graduated. Like she just— That’s not a thing she does. I, I’m so— I literally don’t know what the fuck to do, right now.” For a second, she thinks her vision is flickering. “Oh my god, am I finally having a stroke?”

The three restaurateurs look up to see their neon white logo of a bear’s head, flickering and occasionally buzzing out. Richie’s the first to speak, as they all blankly stare at it. “Who are we gonna call, f’this?”

If this was yesterday, or maybe even if this was an hour ago, it wouldn’t be a question as to who they’d call. Carmen scratches the back of his head, the flaking hair gel is getting itchy. “Ted?”

“Who’s Ted?” Asks Syd; that’s not Tony, Terry or Tommy.

“Ted Fak.” Richie and Carmen answer at once, she almost gasps. 

“They’re multiplying?”

Richie rolls back into his memory. “There’s eight— No, fuck, nine of them— I always forget Avery.”

Sydney just nods and hugs her shoulders for warmth. They all keep staring at the flickering bear, like moths.

“I don’t—I don’t have anyone, except her, y’know?” Syd sniffs. “Like after my dad, it’s— it’s literally just her. She’s my best and only friend.”

Carmen presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, “Heard.” 

“I don’t want to choose between her and my career.” Carmen thinks she’s pausing, so he waits, but she’s not talking. That was the end of the sentence.

“Heard.”

“If that’s what getting a star takes, I don’t want it.” That’s huge. That’s a big statement, from Syd of all people. That gets the men to turn their heads from the light to her.

Syd continues to stare at the flickering bear, which lights up the two single straight streams of tears perfectly. It’s silent. She’s not snivelling or anything, she just shakes her head in tight swivels, biting her inner cheek. “It’s just— it’s just not worth that.”

“How can I fix it?” Maybe Syd will have a better answer than Richie did, something a little more actionable. She finally flits her gaze from the light down to Carmen, where he sits. 

“Can you stay after close?”

“—Nobody in this motherfucking city knows transit etiquette— Why does everyone get on and go ‘wow I love standing in the walkway’— I’m so— There was so much seating just ahead of the blockage, Mikey, I’m so pressed, I’m literally—” You massage your brows, finishing up your rant from this morning’s commute. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“If you weren’t a little passenger princess, this wouldn’t be a problem, Chippy.” “I have my fucking license! I just don’t have a car!” “Then buy one!” “With who’s money!?” “Mine?”

A terrible running joke, from Mikey, is telling you to spend his money— The money he gets from staying sober. The money he’s saving for The Bear. The reason why he thinks this is funny, is because you have no fucking idea where he’s been putting it. But you know he hasn’t spent it, so that’s all that really matters.

You just huff, leaning back against the wall of his office as you watch him work, arms crossed and cringing as he futzes with the wiring. “You’re going to light us up like a Roman fucking candle.”

“It’s Jewish lightning—” “Top twenty-thousand reasons we do not say that— Number One—” “It’s gonna work! Just trust me!”

Mikey’s office looks a lot more lively, lately. He never cleans up the mugs of coffee you give him, every morning. He says it’s his way of tracking which flavour is his favourite, since you’re always switching up. It will never change from the chai spiced blend, and you both know that. It’d be more accurate of him to say he likes the sticky notes you tack on to each mug, saying you love him and saying he needs to keep going.

“I could fix it, y’know.” At that, Mikey turns away from his distressing handiwork to look at you. 

“I know. But I wanna prove I can, too.” 

That hits you right in the chest. You want to tell Mikey that he never has to prove anything, with you; never has to lift a goddamn finger. But he would hate to hear that. “Okay.”

You hear from outside the office, the back door opening. “Child incoming, no expletives please!”

“What the fuck is an expletive?” Mikey asks you, whispering.

You whisper back, leaning forward off the wall to close in on him. “It’s what you just did.”

Eva runs in, the way that kids do— The way they kinda waddle. Immediately up to you and Mikey. Uncle Mike and Aunty Chip, she calls you both. Sometimes Uncle Jack— Because she hasn’t completely grasped the concept of gender yet— Good, no one should.

“Watch!” You have yet to even say hi, before she immediately attempts to do a cartwheel in the middle of this very small office. 

“Good job, Evie!” You clap, after she just barely lands safely on her shins.

She nods, “Can you do that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think I can.” You look up from her to Mikey. “Can you?”

“Can I cartwheel?” He stumbles back, slapping his hand over his chest. Gutted. “Can I cartwheel? Eve— She doesn’t think I can cartwheel.”

“Insane, Uncle.”

“Not what I said!” You can’t hold back your laughter, what a shining this kid has taken to her dad. “I’d love to see it, I really would!”

Mikey just shakes his head, kissing his teeth. How dare you offend his honour, in this way? This forty-two year old man can absolutely cartwheel with the best of them. In five minutes he definitely isn’t gonna eat shit in the dining room of his restaurant. He pats Eva on the shoulder. “You go with your dad and clear out some tables out front, I’m gonna need space.” 

“You’re gonna break your neck, Mike.” Richie chimes in, standing in the doorway now, waiting for Eva to return to him. “I don’t wanna plan your funeral.”

“Please, you would plan a terrible funeral.” “That’s bull—”

“Expletive!” You cover Eva’s ears. She just laughs, looking up at you with that cute and bizarre blank kid stare. What a little patoot. 

Richie looks to you, forgetting the bit for a moment, “Y'need a grocery run, tonight?”

You nod, removing your hands from Eva, but then she holds them there. Goddamnit, kids are an awful idea but she's fucking cute. “Pay you gas money in the form of Wendy's?”

“Marone!” Richie exclaims, poorly, grabbing your face by the chin and top of your head to kiss your cheek just short of a million times. “The perfect woman—”

“Not Italian!” is the synchronous reply from you and Mikey.

Richie rolls his eyes, “Not Italian— Fu—”

Eva interrupts him, taking as much as a shining to you as she does her father. “Exp—Expultive!” She looks at you for approval and you nod in delight.

“Just go set up front, would ‘ya?” Mikey brushes Rich off, the man just rolls his eyes, picking up his daughter from you to fly her off like an airplane. 

“Let's set the stage for your Uncle’s neck injury, sweets. Bwwwwrrr—” Richie makes good airplane noises. Richie’s a good dad. You will never find a good time to tell him this. You watch Mikey’s back flex, as he cracks back into the hole of wires in the wall. He's been working hard on a lot of little things lately. 

You will not realize he is trying to make things clean and square, until it is too late. Right now, you’re just happy, because, “You’re already at three weeks again, and you haven’t even noticed.”

“Oh, I fucking noticed.” He doesn’t face you, when he says it, but it’s with a hearty chuckle. He’s noticed it violently, he’s just getting very good at the first month, now— Well acquainted with the burn out. “But now there’s money on the line, I can’t lose.” 

It’s not that money’s on the line. It’s that his brother is on the line now. And Mikey couldn’t do this for himself— but the guy could do it for his brother. So he’ll just be the guy, that’s what the guy’s do. Six hours, same team. Nine weeks, Mikey, come on.

“Well you’re doing good, I’m proud of you.” 

“You believe in me?” He says it like he doubts your conviction. You nearly punch him in the back of the head.

“Of course I believe in you.”

Mikey bites his inner cheek, though you can’t see his face. “...Why are we keeping the candles?”

Ah. You’ve still got the one and two candles in his drawer with a lighter, ready for the next cupcake. They’re slowly but surely melting with each reset, eventually they’ll be incomprehensible. Do you believe in me? If you do, why are you saving them? Do you think we’ll need them? That’s what Mikey’s asking. You scoff. 

“You’re so stupid.” “What the— I confide in you and I get this—”

You interrupt him, arms crossed. “One day, one week, one month, one year, fuckin— When we get to double digits? Ten months? One decade?”

He’s mum, at that. You add. “We’re getting our fucking mileage out of these candles, Mikey. I believe in you.” You think Mikey has a future, still. Mikey knows he doesn’t. He changes the subject because if he doesn’t, he’ll tell you everything and you will stop it.

“I want you to start talking to Carmen, when he comes back.” You should’ve asked Mikey why he was so certain Carmen would be coming back. But you weren’t smart enough. 

“What the fuck?” You snort. “Okay, out of literally nowhere—” “You’d like him.”

“He sounds very nice.” “He’s not. He’s a—” “Ball buster, yes, you’ve told me.” “He’d like you.” “Why?” “Cause you’re you.”

“Wow, pretty inarguable there.” You can only smile, unable to see the wheels turn in Michael’s head. “Guess we’ll be besties.”

“I meant talk like talk—” “Are you trying to hook me up right now?” “He’s a virgin, so it’s definitely not a good deal for you—” “And— And why are we talking about your brother's sex life— Did we already explode and this is hell?” “I just want you to be prepared for what you’re getting into, he gets performance anxiety so—” “Mikey!”

“You’ll talk to him?” Mikey turns away from the wall, wanting you to look him in the eyes and promise him.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but stick a hand out for the Berzatto to shake. “Yes, Bear, I’ll talk to your virgin Michelin star ranked brother.”

“Thank you! I ask for so little.”

After close, after everyone but Carmen, Sydney, and Richie leave, the three make plans to meet in Michael’s office. Carmen will go in ahead to hide your folder because he doesn’t want to see it himself and he absolutely doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Even if one of them could very well explain it, because he’s fucking in them. It’s fine. He looks at your wrapped up painting in the corner of his office. Carmen considers for what feels like a decade, whether or not he should open it. But he hasn’t earned a gift from you, so he doesn’t— Not for now, at least. He hasn’t earned your art right now. 

Underneath your ICE folder is his notepad— The one he was scribbling recipes for his Exec into, the one he scribbled your recipe into, and underneath all that torn up paper— His list, from this morning. The non-negotiable rules he wanted— Wants? To add to The Bear. There’s twenty-seven. Half of them are spelt wrong as he wrote them while absolutely losing his shit, this morning. This list did not go over well, when it was proposed during family, at two in the afternoon. Some of these could still work though, right? At least the technique and the boxes and the—

Richie comes in, not knocking, and immediately spots the list. “Oh good.” He grabs the notepad and rips off the twenty seven points. Leaving only the title, NON-NEGOTIABLES. 

“Come the fuck on—” Says Carmen. Richie rolls his eyes, tossing the list onto the desk. Richie can tear him and his stupid fucking list a new one another time— Richie and Carmen can sort out their own part of the fight in a week, when they take a twelve hour road trip. Right now though, they are both completely focused on you. 

Sydney comes in with two labelled deli containers of coke. Time codes and everything, she can't turn it off. She hands one to Rich, the other one is for herself. That’s fine, soda on Carmen’s shredded throat really wouldn’t be great right now anyways. She takes a sip, looking over Carm's shoulder. “Oh, we’re doing a real list, now?”

Carmen just sighs, letting the dig go, because he deserves it. He clicks his pen, sitting down, ready to write, without hesitation. “Go.”

Richie leads, “You need to fucking relax.”

“Lay off her,” Sydney waves her hand over her neck. “Leave her the fuck alone, for like a week, minimum.” 

“No— What? No— You should call her like now—” “Absolutely not the right move—” “Solve it hard and fast—” “Why hard—?”

“I’m just gonna wait.” Carmen decides, typically Syd is the right one, anyways. Plus if he hears your voice right now he might throw up and he doesn’t have your tums, anymore. “Next?”

“An exorcism.” Richie doesn’t laugh, when he says it. “Also read fuckin’ Runnin’ on Empty— By Doctor Webb.”

The two cooks just look at him, like Richie’s grown five thousand heads. He groans before they even say anything. “I’m fuckin’ well read, shut the fuck up— It’s—” He snaps his fingers, pointing to Carmen’s list, “It’s an audiobook, too, on fuckin’ Spotify— Listen to that shit on your commute you have no excuse.”

“Yes, Chef.” Carmen writes it down, he also writes down under things to look into, catastrophizing, while he’s at it. Richie watches over his shoulder, and adds, “Look into sublimation and behavourial dysfunction.” 

Syd’s still reeling over the sudden character growth. “You need to relax with the self-help books.”

“Yeah, well you need to read Mark Wolynn’s ‘It Didn’t Start With You.’” Richie’s got lists of books now, instead of zingers. They somehow hit harder.

She’s got no come back for that other than a surprised pout and nod, taking her own phone out to write it down. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmen pipes in, not looking up from his list of to dos “Should I also read that one—” “Yes.” “Heard, Chef. Next?”

“It cannot be on Tony to be your fucking punching bag. If you’re tweaking— Keep that shit between you and your therapist—” Syd switches from her notes app to search, “We’re finding you a fuckin’ therapist.”

“Is that covered in our contract?” Didn’t he write it? Carmen doesn’t know.

“Doesn’t matter. Also I don’t know, but doesn’t matter.” Syd hasn’t read it yet. She also doesn’t know.

You are worth a couple out of pocket fees. Well, more importantly, Carmen is worth a couple out of pocket fees— Well, alright, he’ll discuss his weaknesses of self-prioritization with the therapist. 

Before Carmen can even say next, Richie adds. “Also you smell like shit.” The hair gel is pungent in a bad way.

And before he can defend himself, Sydney adds, not looking up from her phone, “We’re going to fuckin’ Kohl’s after this and we’re getting you a skincare— And haircare— routine. You’re seconds away from breaking out, I bet you use fuckin’ Palmolive dish soap.”

“Well— I’ve been using Tony’s, actually—” “We know.” It’s a completely synchronized interruption. 

“It’s been her signature scent, since highschool.” “Who do you think took her grocery shopping when she didn’t have a car?” “I thought I was having a flashback everytime you walked by in the kitchen, this past week.” “You should go back to it.”

“I know. I will.” He’s got every intention of re-upping on your shampoo and conditioner, when he’s taken on a shopping spree to get his shit together. Hopefully you won’t mind him copying you. “No more Five in One.”

“You’ve been using fucking five in one!?”

Carmen thought, yesterday, naively, that he would do right by you on Friday. He didn’t, he did the very opposite— But even if he did, that’s weak shit. Carmen’s not gonna do right by you for just one single fucking day. Carmen’s gonna do right by you, for the rest of his life. The three get to well over twenty seven points, and he has every intention of showing up to it. He’s gonna be your man, and he’s going to fucking earn that title. He’s going to prove it.

“Okay. So can you tell me what happened on February 22nd?” She’s a shit therapist. You’re imagining both you and her dead in your head. You’ve been imagining a lot of people dead in your head, for the last two weeks. Every time your dad comes to check on you, you imagine that he’s a ghost. 

You imagine having a passing conversation with someone, maybe catching up with Syd, one day. And she’ll ask you ‘Meet any interesting people?’ and you’ll say ‘Yeah. But he killed himself.’ That’s gonna suck. You didn’t prepare for that one. So you need to prepare now. Look at all of your friends and family, and imagine they are dead— And introduce them as such. ‘That’s my friend Richie, he died.’ Make it hurt now, so it doesn’t hurt then. 

You didn’t prepare enough. Didn’t do enough. Countless little mistakes and moments you missed. The therapist is looking at you, oh right, it’s your turn to talk again. You’ve told her all these cute little stories but now she wants to hear how the sad shit went. Or maybe it was all sad shit. Maybe it’s all coated in a film of grief, now. 

You’ll tell her that Mikey was very thorough, with his plan that you didn’t know about. He waited until he thought you were out of the city— When he knew you’d be out of the city. When your sister in law delivered your nephew and you went to Oak Park to visit. 

Just days before, you celebrated three months of sobriety with him and Richie— You’ll tell the therapist, excitedly, that this was his longest streak so far, it took him a year to reach three months— It was a big fucking deal. You were beaming all day. You didn’t realize, however, that days after Uncle Jimmy had made his deal with you two, that Mikey did the math. Figured out exactly how many weeks he’d have to be sober, to get three-hundred grand. 

Thirty weeks. Roughly seven months and two weeks. He did it. Not in sequence, but he did it. You’re still not sure where that money is. Uncle isn’t either. Maybe Carmen will figure it out. It’s meant for him anyways. You’ll say that Carmen will figure it out in such a way that she asks— “And do you hold animosity? Towards his younger brother?”

You look at her like she’s a psycho, because she is. Replying incredulously, “I don’t fucking know him.”

‘My best friend Michael is dead.’ ‘My best friend, Mikey, is dead.’ Doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. 

“Do you wish you did?”

“I really couldn’t say I give a shit, ma’am. Can I tell you about the guy I did know, though?”

She nods, you roll the fuck on. You tell her that the morning after you got to your brother’s place— February 22nd, you all decided instead of staying for the week, as you’d planned, as Mikey planned, you’d instead go home early. Because as much as you wanted to be helpful, having more people in the house was stressing the new mom the fuck out. Understandable. So you took a train back to Chicago early. 

You got home, and you found that you’d gotten some mail, waiting for you on the floor, shoved through the mail slot of your door. Bill, bill, invoice, spam, coupons, handwritten envelope— Ah. Mikey’s handwriting. A deep unsettling feeling burrowed its way into you. It just says For Chip. There’s no letter inside. No. There’s a debit card, his, of your joint bank account, there’s a key, yours, a copy of your key to this apartment, and a necklace, his— With his three month sobriety chip hanging off of it. 

You call him, immediately. He doesn’t answer the first time. You call him again. He answers on the last possible ring. 

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call with an old friend.

“Yo, Ice-y!” A classic nickname, reserved purely for phone calls with Mikey. Because in his phone, you’re 0ICEChip, so you’ll show up at the top of his contact list, if he’s ever found unresponsive. Typically a pro-tip reserved for those in hospice care.

You don’t entertain him. “Where are you?”

“I’m just out for a walk, sweetheart.” “Shut the fuck up out for a walk— Where the fuck are you?”

He hums at your snarky tone. “Nephew didn’t take a liking to you?” “I came home early.”

The silence is long, and you can hear the heavy wind coming through his phone. He’s outside. He’s somewhere outside. It’s a cold night. It’s usually not this cold at the end of February, but it really fucking came down, this morning. 

“Oh.”

“Why did you leave this shit at my door? Where are you?” You thought of 0ICE but you didn’t think to have him turn his location on? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot. You didn’t do enough. ‘My friend, Bear, is dead.’ You didn’t prepare enough. “Bear, c’mon, what’s going on? I told you, if we need to reset, it’s two steps forward, one step back, it’s okay—”

“It’s not.” “It is! We will get there!” “I’m not. You’re gonna get there, I’m not.” “That’s not true!” “I love you but we both know this was a pipe dream.”

“Mikey—”

“Chip, I’m not going anywhere. You’re— You’re fucking going somewhere. I can’t— I can’t let— We both know where I’m going and it’s nowhere you should begin to be.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me. You don’t get to make that call. I decide what I bet on— Mikey, where are you?” You’re walking out of your place, you hadn’t even closed the door before leaving again.

Fucking idiot, you should’ve bought a car. How are you supposed to get to him on foot and train? Fucking idiot. The snow is beating down, the wind is cutting into your face. ‘My best friend died on February 22nd. On the State Street Bridge.’— Why didn’t you get a fucking car? You didn’t do enough. You can’t remember any of your training, right now. What are you supposed to say? “Are you using?”

“No. No. I’m— This is me, Chip.” “No it’s fucking not, Mikey! Shut the fuck up, where are you!?”

“I love you, I didn’t want this to be— I-I—I’m not killing myself, Chip.”

“You’re not?”

You shouldn’t have believed him. You should’ve just kept walking. You would’ve figured out where he was, eventually. You should’ve called the coast guard, or some shit. Should’ve just figured it out.

“I’m not. I’m— I’m okay, I’m really just going for a walk— I-I just— I had a… I— I don’t want you to be my sponsor anymore. That’s it.” It made sense. He didn't want you to feel hurt, so he was hesitant. It made sense.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re a kid, and I can’t make you responsible for what I do.”

“I’m not a kid.” “To me, you are.” “Then we’ll find you someone else.” “Yeah, okay.”

You pause, for a good bit, listening to the shakiness of his breath. “You’re cold, Mikey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re just cold.” That’s all that’s wrong. He’s just cold and he doesn't want you to be his sponsor anymore. “Go inside, soon. Come home.”

“I will.”

Mikey always had that way of making you think everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t. “Okay.”

“I want you to start treating our joint like an advanced payment, by the way. A million things are always fucking breaking at The Beef, there’s no point in wiring all the time.”

Mikey wants this to be clean and square, too. Because he couldn’t figure out the wiring by himself— He needs to make sure his baby brother is taken care of, he needs to make sure his restaurant is taken care of, he needs to make sure that you have something to do because Michael fucking saw you. 

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nod to no one. “I think your toilets fucked, speaking of.” You laugh, everything’s okay. There’s a long silence, and you think he’s hung up. 

“Good. Okay— You should— You should come fix it, sometime soon… Love you, Chip.”

“Love you, Bear.”

You will tell your therapist that after that phone call, you went back inside, cleaned yourself up, unpacked unused toiletries, changed out of your borrowed brother’s sweats into your nice pajamas, because Mikey said he would come home. He said he would come home and you believed him because he never lied to you before. You set up the things he left for you in your handmade clay dish tray; so he can take them back. Just because you’re not his sponsor, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his chips. 

You will tell your therapist that you fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Michael. You will tell her you woke up to a phone call from Richie, and all he said, wavering, was, “You should come over.” Richie doesn’t ask things. Richie will always say, come over. You don’t know why that’s the signal you get, since you seemingly must have missed so many other obvious signs, but you know then that your— Your— Your best— Fuck, the knots are fucking debilitating, fuck fuck fuck. 

You will not come over. You will walk, in the cold, to your dad’s place. You will not bring anything with you. You will stay there and rot for two weeks, as will everything in your apartment. He will force you to go to this several hour long therapy appointment because he can’t keep watching you do this, and you will resent the woman you are telling all this. 

You will continue to see her, for five more sessions, because the first six are covered under your insurance. She will help in a lot of ways, she will hurt in others.

Wells-Fargo will ask if you want to close your account. You don’t want to, but it’ll accrue monthly banking fees, so you take the money out and close it. You buy a shitty maroon 2004 Dodge Intrepid off Facebook Marketplace with the two and a half grand. It barely functions as a car. But it will drive. The next time someone needs you. You can drive. Next time you’ll think of everything, next time you won’t fail.

You stop paying the phone bill, for your business line. It goes defunct. You just don’t think you should be trusted to be helpful, for the next little while. You will blame your father for this, when people ask about it.

On the day of his funeral, you will go. You will go, and you will sit on the curb across from the church, and you will not go inside. It's just not possible. You will buy a pork chop-cheese sandwich from a bodega nearby and you will eat it on that curb and it’s only then, after shoving it down for so long, that you will scream and cry.

You will leave before anyone sees you, and you will go to State Street Bridge, and you will set up a small vigil. You will finnick with the candles and the flowers until you feel they are perfect. They will never get perfect. You just don’t want to leave. You have a tendency to do that. 

You will stare at the little stuffed bear, the roses, the picture frame of him, and you will finally say it aloud. 

“My best friend, Mikey, died.”

When Carmen shows up, two hours later, not honestly that long after you finally left, he will add a bouquet and a prayer candle. He will readjust all of your work, to his preference, and then readjust it again and again and again— and he will finally say it aloud. 

“My brother, Mikey, shot himself.”

No matter how you say it, it won’t roll off the tongue.

And about thirty-nine weeks from that day, you will be in New York, at a wedding, talking with the virgin Michelin star ranked brother, as you promised.

You will have abandoned your bar after making confessions under the counter, and have instead co-opted the single stall gender-neutral bathroom to have ample time and space to tell each other everything you’ve told your therapists. Even now, neither of you can get the words to roll off the tongue. 

But Carmen manages to make “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry— I will never be able to surmise, how sorry—” roll off well enough. Alas, he’s interrupted, by a knock on the gender-neutral bathroom door, made by the only fuckers that knows you two are in here. 

“Guys I— Guys I don’t know how to run bar, and I don’t think I should’ve been trusted, with this.”

Carmen will not look away from your bleary-eyed face, he will not break his focus even when you laugh at the sudden tension break. He will just tell the Faks to fuck off and figure it out.

“I’m gonna fix it.” Carmen will tell you, and you will nod and say, “I will too.”

Because it’s not just on one of you, anymore. It can be both. The shared burden. The shared grief. No more fucking shoes, because it's all out now.

It’s not negotiable.

I love when tumblr drafts fully start to lag and my macbook lights on fire because the post is too fucking long. I have so much to say about this chapter but I think I will just make a separate post entirely about this. Because I’m. I’m really proud tbh not to toot my own horn but I think I kind of maybe a little bit ate with this one. 

Fun fact, that you may or may not believe: The Carmen scenes? Not planned. Fully did not plan to do any of that. This was going to be entirely Mikey flashbacks, originally— There might’ve ended up being more honestly, if I didn’t add Carmen, but after Something to Do when I started writing I was like,,, these cats aren’t cooking, Carmen’s side is missing a second beat before the third. And so, here it is. 

I know everyone was expecting a depression week for Carmen— And to be fair, I also kind of was. But I then thought, nah. They’d done too much work, and I don’t think Rich/Syd would allow him to wallow. Like get your shit together, not for you, for her. Ugh. 

Speaking of Rich and Syd— FUCK man my heart. The way their scenes from the past and present meshed together in such a deeply painful way I’m sooo SICK WITH IT!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!! Just fuckin— The way Tony was too scared to reach out to Syd but it’s SO FUCKING OBVIOUS that Syd was on the other side of Chicago thinking the exact same shit i’m SO SICK!!!!! I’M HACKING UP A LUNG HERE!!

Anyways it’s my birthday send me well wishes and an essay on what you thought I’d love to hear it. I know this was a tough one. Thank you for getting through it with me lmao. Tag list! Hope I didn’t forget anyone, pwease note i ownwee add pweople who swend theiw twoughts— It also may or may not hurt my feelings when people don’t read this text at the bottom. It might. It might a lot.

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

Next Part

[exhaslo]

CAN YOU MAKE LIKE A SUB SHY READER X NERD DOM MIGUEL? LIKE READER IS LIKE QUEEN BEE BUT LIKE IS THE SHY AND QUIET POPULAR GIRL AND MIGUEL IS THE HOT NERD AND LIKE THEY ARE HANGING OUT AND THEY START TO GET ALL TOUCHY AND READER HETS ALL SHY AND FLUSTERED AND STARTS GRINDING HER PRINCESS PART ON HIS THIGHS AND LIKE SHE IS A SQUIRTER NOT LIKE CUMMING AND SHE GETS EMBARRASSED BY THAT AND MIGUEL BABIES HER AND STARTS FUCKING HER ROUGH BUT NOT TELLING HER DEGRADING NAMES LIKE SLUT OR NONE OF THAT, HE CALLS HER HIS BABY AND ALL THOSE CUTE NAMES AND HE STARTS GIVING HER AFTERCARE AND BEING ALL FLUFFY AND SFW AND SHE REVEALS TO HIM THAT SHE IS A LITTLE<333?

Sorry I took so long! I was in New Orleans for the weekend! I'm all fueled up for writing now! Haha!

Summary: Your casual study group turns into something a little out of hand~

Warning: Minors DNI, fluff, smut, dry humping, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya'll), aftercare, squirting

----------------

You were the life of the party. Everyone loved you and everyone wanted you to come to their party, gathering, anything. As long as you were there, there was life. You were practically the Queen Bee of the campus. Your beauty and personality shined bright. Everyone wanted to be you and everyone wanted to be with you.

Including Miguel.

Miguel was not shy himself from being popular. He was a hunk at the college and the smartest person there. Everyone wanted a chance with him. Everyone wanted him to help with their homework. The sexiest nerd whom everyone wanted a taste of.

Including you.

So, when word got out that a neutral friend had the two of you coming to their study group, everyone wanted in. This was no longer a study group, this had turned into a full fledge party. You could feel the sweat roll down your neck as you smiled towards your friends and strangers alike. Everyone trying to talk to you. Everyone trying to get your attention.

"Oh! Of course, um...Would you excuse me?" You laughed softly before escaping through the back door, "Jeez,"

"Escaped?" Miguel said with a soft chuckle. You jumped slightly,

"Y-Yes. I got cornered the moment I blinked."

"Awe, poor baby," Miguel teased as he drew closer to you, "Don't like being hovered over?"

You felt your cheeks burn as Miguel stood beside you. He was a freaking giant. You tried to say something, but only a stutter came out. Miguel smelled so good. Whatever cologne he was wearing was making you get closer to him. You squeaked lowly as Miguel fixed your hair, his fingers grazing your cheek,

"Hm? What's this? The most popular girl on campus is shy around men?" Miguel said almost cruelly.

"S-So...So what if I am?"

"Well, can't have that. Those vultures will eat you alive,"

"T-Then...Then help me practice," You muttered ever so lowly, believing that he could not hear you. Miguel's ears perked up as a casual smirk formed against his lips,

"How bold."

You gasped lowly as Miguel pulled your by the wrist. He looked around and took you inside the shed that was in the backyard. You could only feel your heart race as he cleared a space and sat down, patting his lap so casually. You were nervous, but excited. Miguel was the man of your dreams and he here was hiding with you.

"C'mon, can't be shy now." He hummed. You followed his order, sitting on his lap, "Good girl."

A shiver ran down your spine as he complemented you. You weren't sure if it was the liquor in your hand, but you drew closer to him. Miguel took notice and placed his finger against your lip,

"If my baby girl wants a kiss, you gotta earn it."

"E-Earn it?" You stuttered. Miguel played with the rim of your skirt,

"It's okay, baby. We're finally alone." Miguel stroked your cheek, watching you tremble from his touch, "I've been wanting this as much as you have. Who would have thought that you would be this shy?"

"I-It's not a...problem, right?" You asked.

"Course not, baby."

You couldn't help but smile. You wanted to kiss him, but he repeated once more about earning that kiss. You gave a small pout, wondering what he wanted. You bit your lower lip as Miguel started to rub circles around your waist. Subconsciously, you started to grind your hips against his thigh. Miguel's smirk only grew as you started to get into it,

"That's my baby girl," He cooed softly, "Keep going."

You whimpered low moans as the fabric of your panties and his jeans kept rubbing against your clit. Miguel hummed lowly as he finally kissed you, his fingers aiding your efforts. You gasped into the kiss, moaning lowly as he laid you down. You skirt was lifted upwards as his fingers rubbed circles around your clit.

"M-Mig-Miguel~!" You cried out.

Miguel licked his lips as you squirted against his hand and your panties. His eyes sparkled as you kept apologizing. You tried to cover your face from embarrassment, but Miguel moved your hands. He captured your lips again as he undid his pants,

"How cute. Don't be sorry, baby," He groaned as he removed your panties, "This just means that your body wants me."

"Mig-"

"Shhh, it's going to be okay, bunny. You just lemme know when to stop and I'll stop. Can't have my sweet girl cry on me,"

You felt your hear flutter towards his words. Agreeing, you spread your legs for him, awaiting for him to sweep you away. Miguel kissed your neck as he pressed his tip against your entrance. He whispered sweet nothingness in your ear,

"I'll take good care of you, baby."

--------

"How does my dick feel inside your tight hole? Does my little shy girl like being fucked like a bunny in heat?"

Miguel had you on your knees, face pressed against the floorboards of the shed as he pounded your pussy roughly. He had been ravishing your throbbing hole for only five minutes and you were on the verge of losing your mind. You were a moaning mess as Miguel slapped your ass while his thick cock bruised your cervix with each thrust.

"What happened to my shy little bunny? You're being so loud now, everyone is going to hear you. Want them to know that this pussy belongs to me, baby? Huh? Is that what you want?" Miguel asked.

"Mhm~ Y-Yes!" You cried out, gasping as he slapped himself inside you rougher, "M-Miguel!"

"That's right, cum for me, baby."

Miguel groaned lowly as your pussy sucked him in more as you squirted around his cock. That beautiful white ring that formed around his dick was a sight to see. Not giving you a chance to rest, Miguel went to chase his own high. With a low, rumbling grunt, Miguel shoved himself deep, filling your womb.

You whimpered, shaking from the feeling. Miguel took a moment to catch his breathe before pulling out and fixing his clothes. He grabbed your panties, stuffing them in his pocket before fixing your skirt and picking you up. He checked outside the side, sighing in relief since everyone was still inside.

"Let me take you home. Can't leave my girl like this, can I?" He hummed.

You nuzzled your head against his chest, quietly agreeing with him. Once Miguel arrived at his apartment, he took you into the shower with him. He made sure to carefully wash each part of your body, enjoying your reaction and expressions. You were putty in the palm of his hands.

"Miguel?" You hummed lowly as he dried you.

"Yes?"

"I think we should have more...private lessons together...Y-You know...T-To help me..." You stuttered, ignoring his smirk. Miguel pecked your lips, moving your hands away,

"You didn't have to ask."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Waaaaaaaa, I hope you liked it! Sorry I was so late with this response again!!!

[sanguineterrain]

THE PT2 OF REPORTER! READER AND JASON OH.MY.GOD I LOVEEEED IT could you pleaaase do a pt3? 🙏 i need them to kiss already 😩 maybe someone from the batfam or even roy go to jason's house and be like ??????who are you????? to reader please💕 i love your writing, i hope you have a nice day💖

here it is! hope y'all enjoy :) part 1 | part 2

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: gunshot wounds, injured jason, nightwing cameo, patching up, kissing. almost 2.2k

****

You're being a snoop.

In your defense, you're a reporter with too much time on your hands in the Red Hood's apartment. It's impossible not to snoop.

It's also been four days since you moved in. You kind of feel like a crazy ex, hunting for proof that Hood's cheating on you.

So far, you've found nothing except for a worrying amount of hidden firearms. There's a handgun in the toaster. What the hell.

You've been trying to work on the case, but it's hard to investigate when you're in witness protection. Hood is out right now chasing a lead. He had said not to worry about it, but how can you not? How can you not worry about him?

You glance at the clock. 9:24. Hood was supposed to be home half an hour ago. He said he was chasing a lead. You didn't want him to go alone, but you're also pretty shit at avoiding assassins, so.

You've ordered Chinese food from the select list of restaurants Hood said you can order from. He left a wad of cash for you to use. When you paid, you had a moment's pause.

Is the Red Hood your sugar vigilante?

Hm. Not something you're willing to explore right now.

You chew a nail and pick at a crab rangoon. Hood miraculously (or, maybe not so much, considering his stalker tendencies) chose your favorite Chinese restaurant. Usually, you'd have gobbled up your dinner by now. But you can't stop looking at the clock.

The floorboards in the hall creak. You're up instantly, and you go to the door. You wait for Hood's confirmation text that it's him outside. It doesn't come.

There's hushed voices. You run back to the toaster and grab the gun. You have no idea how to use it, but it can't be that hard, right? Point and shoot?

The door opens. You aim the gun. Right in Nightwing's face.

"Whoa," he says, lifting his free arm. His other holds up Hood, who's bleeding from his shoulder and thigh. Holy fuck.

"Safety's on, smarty," Hood slurs, more than a little out of it. "We gotta fix y'posture."

"Oh my God," you say, dropping the gun and racing to help Hood.

Nightwing takes a step back. Hood grunts as he's dragged along.

"Uh, who are you?" Nightwing asks.

"Gotham Gazette," you say on instinct.

"They're w'me," Hood mumbles. "Pu' me down, Wing."

"Why do you have a civilian in your apartment?" Nightwing asks, helping Hood onto the couch.

You run into your bedroom and return with two pillows to support Hood's head.

"You got shot?" you ask, voice going high. "What the actual fuck, Red?!"

"Hood, why do you have a civilian in your apartment?"

Hood groans. "Can we save questions for th'end?"

"Jesus," Nightwing says. "You're ridiculous."

"That's what I said," you grumble, removing Hood's equipment.

"Great. There's two 'f ya. This is why I didn't wanna come here," Hood says. "My reporter gets nervous, Dickface."

"You coming home shot would make any reasonable person nervous, you jerk," you say, scowling.

"Oh my God," you whisper. "God, Red, what did you—"

You peel back Hood's jacket. His undershirt is sticky with blood and singed skin. Your first real, live gunshot wound.

"Wing's got it, sweet," Hood says. "Go on, y'don't gotta see this. 'S gross, I know."

"I'm not going anywhere," you say firmly. You look at Nightwing. "Do you have a problem with me being here?"

"Well, a civilian shouldn't—"

"Good. What do you need from me?"

"Go have a cup'a tea," Hood says.

You glare. "I wasn't talking to you, Helmet Boy."

"Ever hear'a bedside manner?"

"No. Hence why I'm a reporter."

Hood slumps against the couch. That worries you more—if he doesn't have the energy to fight back, his injuries must be bad.

Anxiously, you look at Nightwing. He presses his lips together and then makes a decision.

"Okay. I need hot water and the first aid kit under the microwave."

You nod. "Got it."

You fetch his requests and return. Nightwing gets to work on Hood's thigh first. You hover, finally settling near Hood's head. He's in his undershirt, his tactical pants, and his boots. You touch the side of his helmet. He turns his head to you.

"Didn't I tell ya t'beat it?" he asks.

"Can't get rid of me that easily." You look at Nightwing. "Is it bad?"

"His thigh isn't bad. Bullet missed anything major and went clean through. I'm just patching him up. Gave him some painkillers. Gonna be a bit before they kick in."

You watch Nightwing pull a needle through Hood's skin for half a second before you turn away. Hood grunts.

"Don't gotta stay," he says quietly. "Lotta blood."

"You're hurt," you say. You don't know what else to say, how to put your urgency into words. Physically, you can't leave Hood's side.

"'M tough," he mumbles. "Toughest guy on the block."

"Dumbest too," Nightwing says, cutting the thread.

"Look who's talkin'."

Their dynamic is odd. Not what you expected, considering how empty the outside of Hood's fridge is. You couldn't find any other photos of friends or family.

"Alright." Nightwing sighs and shifts over. "Now the shoulder. Hood, did it go through?"

"'Fraid not, Blue. Gonna hafta deep dive."

You make a weak noise in your throat. Nightwing pinches Hood's side. Hood winces.

"No, no. I was jokin'. Stupid joke. Sorry."

"I should've never let you go out alone," you say.

"Let me? 'M a stubborn man. Even the Bat can't make me do shit."

"Understatement of the century," Nightwing says, studying the wounds. "You're gonna need to take off your helmet for this one."

They both look at you. You puff up.

"I'm not—"

"Look," Nightwing says gently. "I know you're—"

"Blindfold! You can blindfold me." You get up and look around. "What can we use for a..."

"I think I have a black tie in the top middle drawer," Hood says.

You race to his room and race back with the tie. It smells like the same lavender detergent as your sheets. Nightwing and Hood are whispering when you return; they stop talking as soon as you enter. You pretend not to notice.

"'Kay. Nightwing?" You hand him the tie. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Weirdest patching up I've ever done," Nightwing says.

"I've had weirder," Hood says.

Nightwing ties the tie around your head. "Okay?"

You nod. "Good."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Hood asks.

You roll your eyes. "I don't know, Red."

"Don' roll ya eyes a'me."

You raise your brows. "How did you—"

"Magic. Do it, Wing."

There's some rustling, a click, and then you can hear Hood's breathing, just like you did a few nights ago.

"This is gonna hurt," Nightwing warns.

Hood hums. "Nothing I can't handle."

The sound of a bullet being dug out of flesh is one you never want to hear again. Hood's strangled groan is a million times worse.

"Almost done, Little Wing," Nightwing whispers. "I'm sorry. Almost done."

"Red?" You inch forward, searching for his hand. He takes it and squeezes.

"'M fi–ine," he says, sounding very much not fine. "Ah, shit. Ha-hate shoulder wounds."

You move closer, cradling his whole arm. Hood grunts. He strokes your knuckles with his thumb.

"'S okay," he says. "'M okay."

His breathing returns to normal after several minutes. You hold his hand the entire time. There's some rustling, and you hear Nightwing stand.

"He'll be okay. He just needs to rest."

"What can I do?" you ask, blindfold still on.

"Well—"

"Nothin'," Hood says. "I'm peachy. Just needa sleep it off."

You whip your head around. "You got shot!"

"Not my first bullet and won't be my last. Here, lemme put on my helmet—"

"Hood, no! My God, you're insane."

"You're realizing this now?" he asks. "'S fine, I can do it—"

"Okay!" Nightwing says loudly. "I'm gonna go. It was nice to meet you. I'm glad Hood has a..."

"Reporter," Hood finishes.

"...Right. A reporter who... cares so much about him. Uh-huh."

It's quiet for a moment. You know they're having a conversation, but you can't see them.

"Don't tell B," Hood says.

Nightwing laughs. "Oh, you're in the shit. A reporter in your apartment and two bullet wounds? You owe me big."

"We're working a case together, and I'm not trying to expose Hood," you say. "I don't even care who you two are."

That is a lie, but whatever. Vigilantes are a paranoid breed. You can relate.

Nightwing sighs. "Alright, okay. I won't say anything. Make sure he doesn't bleed out. If anything changes, call me on his phone."

"I will. Thank you for helping him."

"What I'm here for," Nightwing says, and he sounds like he means it. "Hood?"

"'M fine, Wing. Go home to your girl."

"Ahem. Right. Good night."

The window creaks and then it's just you and Hood. You make yourself comfortable on the floor next to the couch, blindfold still on. You don't mind the dark. Touching Hood, you feel safe.

"Red?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh. Thought you were asleep."

"No, but Wing's lecture had me gettin' there." He squeezes your hand. "Y'okay?"

"Yes."

You lace your fingers together. Hood's hand is cold. You hold it close and try to warm it up.

"Take that off," he says. "I'll put the helmet on."

"Don't be an idiot. You'll jostle your stitches."

"Bossy, bossy..."

You sigh. "Red, whatever you did tonight—"

"Y'know I won't let anything happen to you, right?" he says. "Right?"

"What if you'd died tonight, Hood?"

You eyes are damp. He squeezes your hand again.

"I wouldn't. Not goin' anywhere."

"You have no control over that, and making such promises is outrageous. Why wouldn't you get proper medical attention?" you ask.

"'Cause that requires Batman, and he and I had a tiff."

"A tiff."

"Mmhm."

It sounds like more than that, but you drop it.

"Red, I was so worried."

"Smarty, th' others would take care of ya if anything hap—"

"I was worried about you! I was worried you weren't coming back, Red."

Silence.

"I... I care about you. I mean, yeah, I care about the case, and I wanna bring in the bad guys, but shit, Red. Not at your expense."

He lets go of your hand. Then, a finger dances across your cheek. You gasp.

"Y'really trust me, huh?" he asks quietly.

"Of course." You swallow. "Hood, of course I trust you."

"Shit." A thumb on your lip. "Shit, smarty pie. Why y'trust me so easy?"

His accent is thick with exhaustion. You love it.

"You have a nice voice," you say unthinkingly.

"Goddamnit." He huffs. "You gotta go t'bed, sweetheart."

Your heart pounds. "Why?"

"'Cause otherwise I'm gonna kiss ya. And this whole thing is gonna go t'shit. And you're my favorite reporter."

You lean in. "Red—"

"No." He catches your cheek with his hand. "Bad reporter. Breach a' ethics."

"I'll let you," you say. "Do it, I won't stop you."

"This is the adrenaline talkin'. You were scared, that's why."

You shake your head. You've never been more sure of anything. But you have to make sure that he's sure.

You grab his wrist. "Are you thinking clearly? Are you high?"

"Wing gave me one painkiller, sweet. Takes at least three t'knock me out."

And that weighs you down for a moment, remembering that Hood isn't what you thought he was. He isn't a villain. He's a man who's known unfathomable amounts of pain. He's a man who's killed men. Who'd kill for you.

A man made of flesh and blood and scars and dark curls and a warm, warm neck and... and...

"Shit," Hood says.

And then he kisses you. For a second. Then he pulls back.

"Sorry," he whispers against your mouth. "Sorry, I—"

"No."

You pull him back, cupping the back of his neck. He makes a tiny noise. You start to speak, to worry, but Hood keeps you still with a hand on your arm.

His mouth is hot, a little uncoordinated, but sweet all the same. You're careful to follow his lead. His lips are chapped. He has a little scruff; you stroke his face. It suits him. Anything would.

You cannot turn away from this. From him. That is certain.

You pull away for breath and so you don't undo Nightwing's hard work. You listen to Hood's harsh breathing, pleased that you're the reason for it.

"Wait," he says. "Wait, l-lemme—"

Hood starts to pull off your blindfold. You grab it instantly.

"Red, no. Don't show me just because we kissed."

"But y'don't-don't even know what I look like. How d'you know I'm somebody y'wanna kiss?"

"Because I do. And I will kiss you in the dark for as long as you want me to. Don't do it just because you're afraid of losing me otherwise."

He draws circles on your cheek with his thumb. "Trusting me like that 's crazier than anything I've done, smarty."

"Well, don't we make quite the pair?"

"What, crazy?"

You smile. "I was thinking brave. But it is a fine line."