#YOU ARE CAUSING JOY BESTIE

[lailuhhh]

Okay okay so I had this AU idea but it’s not something I could pull off so I’m here going to yell about it because I can’t stop thinking about it. And maybe because I think you’d write it so well

What if Mac didn’t want to join the army? What if Harry or James forced him too? And he’s been banned from coming home(for a specific period of time). Is it because Harry’s sick and dying and doesn’t want his grandson to see him like this? Is it James for a more sinister specific reason?

So Mac doesn’t want to be there. He wants to go home. He’s had basically bad experiences with most of the people he’s interacted with(I’m a sucker for Mac’s previous overwatches being awful to him) and Peña was the exception but he’s gone and now he’s stuck with Dalton and he’s got so much time left here still and Dalton gets to go home soon.

They still don’t get along but Mac still saves Jack and he’s shocked when Jack stays because he gets to go home and choose to stay. Ahh it would be so interesting.

✨✨✨✨✨✨BESTIE✨✨✨✨✨✨

Okay what if Mac’s considered a troubled child? He has a record of everything that he’s done and really the only big thing was exploding the football field. He’s the weird kid but is still the Mac we know and love

Assuming everything is still pretty much the same, Harry and James still talk and James gets updates on everything Mac does and that was like the decision of him going to the army. Harry opposes it because he knows the horrors of it but doesn’t really have the final say in anything because while he’s technically Mac’s guardian, James is— unfortunately— still his father

Let’s assume Mac got a scholarship, but it’s really James setting his plan into place and through the magic of television, through signing all the paperwork and everything and getting the scholarship settled, Mac said he’d join the army when he turned 18

So Mac more or less gets literally escorted out of his dorm and shoved onto an army bus and taken away to basic, all while calling Harry trying to figure out what’s happening but Harry just tells him he signed a contract. Mac even calls the Bozers to try to help out because they actually care and don’t want him sent into a battlefield

Training and everything passes, old overwatches come and go, Peña is the only person who says the whole situation is fucked up and tells Mac he’ll look into it because legally the contract Mac signed was null and void because he signed as a minor without his guardian present so he really shouldn’t be there. James gets word of it because that’s just a big problem so he had a plan to keen him from finding anything out, but Peña ends up dying from the Ghost’s bomb and James doesn’t have to Deal With Him™️

At that point, Mac is pretty much cut off from everyone because he didn’t want to be there and the only person that seemed to care and believe him died. Then he gets transferred and the whole interaction with Jack happens and the scene where we see Mac disarm the IED with a battery and gum, how they’re kinda warming up to each other, Mac is still completely closed off because he just hates it there so much, even though Jack is trying to be a decent guy

And then when Mac goes off on his own—

“Now, we need to get on the same page, kid, and I mean right now. That is, if you want to keep breathing. Next time you wait for me to take my position before you go scampering off like that, you hear me?”

“Whatever. Not like it would’ve mattered.”

Which leads to a blowout of Mac yelling how much he hates it there and that he was basically kidnapped from college because he knew that, while he didn’t read the full contract, any agreements would’ve been void like Peña said because he was a minor and he didn’t have the power to consent to actually joining the army

When Mac saves Jack, it’s more of a if it was just me I wouldn’t really care but I’m not going to let you die just because my life sucks and Jack can see Mac going in a downward spiral and knows that if he doesn’t stay then Mac won’t make it out of the sandbox

The last few days is basically how they first met, but Jack’s making an effort to actually be the guy we know and love but Mac doesn’t want anything to do with it because Jack’s leaving and what’s the point of trying to be friends with someone you’ll never see again

So when Jack actually pops into the side of the humvee

“Why’d you come back? You had the opportunity to go home.”

“My home will still be there. I told ya before that I get all my bomb nerds home and yer no exception. You were dealt a real shitty hand and it’s fucked that no one will help ya get to the bottom of it. So I’m gonna stay here, make sure ya get home so you can stick it to those that fucked ya over”

So Mac’s tour gets finished, and since Jack actually holds power, they leave and Jack gets on contact with his buddies up the ladder to help get to the bottom of it and it takes a while but they eventually get the documents Mac signed and then consent forms signed by James and that just starts a whole whirlwind of the true James Hate we deserved

**Bonus points for if Harry died while Mac was deployed but they didn’t let him go home because James knew he would go AWOL so all his free days and leave had to be on base, also Mac assumed that Harry was the one that consented to him joining so he pretty much hated him until he found out the truth

All assuming Mac signed the scholarship forms when he was like 16 because you can legally sign up for the army when you’re 17

[petrichoraline]

[kayvsworld]

i know that a webcomic cannot in general simply be vibes based storytelling however plot is the enemy and the cause of all evil

[astralazuli]

So there's that D&D class quiz going around, & I took it & was so deeply offended I got Paladin.

& so I have had conversations with both Bestie & Birdfriend about this grave insult & they both were like, "Well... They have a point?" & informed me that my desire to absorb hits meant for others & deep drive to help whenever I actually can & strong convictions make me a bit Paladin-coded.

& I am just so... Idk. It's just interesting to get glimpses of yourself from other people's POVs. To be told that my defining characteristics are protecting & healing others & being incredibly fighty about the things I care about... Especially as someone whose brain specifically fixates on whether I care enough, do enough, give enough... Yeah. It's just kinda wild.

Anyway, I'm now adjusting my self-perception to include the fact that if I were a D&D character, I would be an Oath of the Ancients Paladin & not a wizard & that actually that's okay.

[vulpinesaint]

FORGOT I LOVE FRENCH. HELLO AGAIN BABYGIRL

[arolesbianism]

I still find it so funny remembering first being bought dst after years of not being up to date on new stuff and just seeing the character selection and being like who the Fuck are these ppl and then immediately falling in love with Walter after my sibling picked him in our first world and hearing his voice for the first time

[evilminji]

You think the Zone has its version of Comic Con?

Like? Think about it. You have literally all of time to work on it, your Magnum Opus, your life's work. That DREAM comic. All the supplies you could ever wish for. Endless paper. Endless ink. You can practice and practice for CENTURIES until it's JUST right.

Wouldn't you want to share it?

There are definitely Ghosts who have Obsessions that make them collect.

And two people meeting would lead to a group. Lead to a bigger group. Lead to a large group. A gathering. A crowd even. Eventually you need a Lair to meet IN. It becomes An Event.

People hear about it.

Want to bring other art mediums. Food stalls. Report on it. It grows. Shoot offs start happening. Niche meet ups.

But like?

Unlike comic con? It's all FREE. Sure, you might have fork over the ecto to make your copy. And yeah, weaker ghosts can only do that so many times. Will have to prioritize. But? They can come back after leaving for a nap. Ask a buddy to come with. There ARE work arounds.

Just? Imagine the unbelievable HIPE? Danny would feel? But be unable to TELL anyone about? Zone Con happens several times a year! Cause so many people wanna come. The Zone being infinite, after all.

Problem 1? They're using THEIR standard of a "year". Which is actual 5 earth years. So it's only happens every year and a half for him. And Problem 2? He can't even TALK about how excited he is about Z Con with anyone (outside his friends and family) because they haven't heard of it and might Ask Questions.

It's ALSO held in a part of the Zone that's like? Three days of flying away from the portal. And no amount of begging is gonna get any of his loved ones to camp in the Speeder for around six-ish days just to go to a Con.

So you can imagine his DELIGHT. His utter JOY and *Target Spotted* "!!!" Noise, when? In the crowd? He spots A HUMAN! Hi fellow human!!! Omg, wanna be Con Besties? *doesn't even wait for an answer*

So now? This sad, blonde, deeply lost and kinda alarmed, trench coat dude? Is Danny's new Z Con Going Bestie! You got a map yet, bestie? No? That's cool, he has one. By the way, he has human food in the Speeder if you nee-

YES!

Cause, see, here's the THING. John? Lost to the Realms Infinte. Or Infinte Realms. Translation was iffy... and on fire... like the rest of the building. It was him or the kids those psychos had kidnapped, for what fucked "ritual" the voices in their heads, that THEY thought were demons but frankly he's pretty sure was just feedback from-

Look, doesn't matter, he had to choose. He always knew someday he'd have too. That even twisting Luck and talking fast wouldn't quite be enough. And he had to decide, in that moment, which outcome mattered more to him. They get out safe, or he does.

Wasn't much of a question, was it?

So, there he is. Staring down oblivion and all those debts unpaid. 'Bout to see who's gonna come for him this time, and take what left of wretched soul. When? He bleeds on the FUCKIN two-bit crap circle they squiggled in God only knows what. Remembers that "oh YEAH, set dressings!" Sometimes when you focus too hard on insuring a Good Outcome?

You weird weird as shit byproducts happening on the side to balance it all out.

Or BAD ones.

He wakes up someone fucking green and crowded. For the life of him can't tell you which one it is. And THAT was of course, bout two days ago.

Biggest and most immediate problem? He... does NOT recognize what flavor of magical fuckery this is. Doesn't seem Fae. And doesn't smell like Hell. There are... there are honest to God BOOTH BABES hanging around. Hunks too. The view is LOVELY.

And nerdy.

Very, very nerdy.

But he isn't THAT out of touch. So he should recognize SOMETHING. Or at least the languages. But nope! It's like aliens and magic had a nerd baby and dipped it in GREEN. And the worst thing? Is there is food everywhere, but it all glows and John's not stupid enough to eat it.

Then? Sweet merciful fuck. Salvation! Some teeny bopper Barely No Longer Teen fresh faced INFANT of a Hero kid. With a SHIP. Who has FOOD and a clear idea of where they are. Hello~ John's new BEST FRIEND. Yes. Absolutely. Con Buddies, whatever.

Just feed me, kid.

Only? Once he inhales like 5 "Fenton rations"? He only gets half way through introducing himself before getting interrupted. Kid hears "magic" and "occult Detective" and just? Goes "oh! So you wanna check out the magic Ally with me? Sam wanted me to pick up some witchy stuff!"

..............how magic?

(In Which? Constantine becomes Danny's interdimensional Con buddy)

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

[shomatoriashi]

11/08/24; 02:33pm

yandere!sung.jinwoo x fem.reader

me: (imagine) a hot man offers you a drink at this korean bbq place, and you don’t want to look uncool and take a shot, only to realize it’s just lemon lime soda

you end up getting starry eyed for this devastatingly handsome man, enjoying the rest of what you thought would be a solo dinner with this charming man-

but little do you know, he’s been lovesick for you and stalking you for quite some time now -

lmao convince me not to do this bestie

@nyashykyunnie: convince me to convince you not to

warnings: stalking; obsessive thoughts and behavior.

work had been a stressful event for you, causing your once steady walking pace to slow down to a complete crawl. exhaustion was felt reaching down into your very bones, and it felt as though your body was being dragged down by weights itself.

lately, work had gotten so exhausting, with your boss forcing you to pick up extra shifts while you struggled to stay afloat. yet despite it all, you were able to survive and make it towards your day off.

currently, you were basking in the freedom that came with a friday night after a long shift work. the fact that it was also your weekend off added an extra layer of sweetness to it all-

and you were going to celebrate this joyous occasion with some much needed korean barbecue. walking across the streets of the city, you head towards your favorite restaurant with a bounce in your step. the exhaustion was quickly replaced with excitement and joy at eating all of your favorite cuts of meat and sides.

entering the establishment, you eagerly tell the host that you’d like a single table, grinning widely when he takes you to a table settled in the middle of the restaurant. looking through the menu, you had to swallow the excess moisture that floods your mouth from all the delicious scents that fills at the air.

after what felt like hours of waiting, your waitress greets you and asks what you’d like to have. when you tell her your order, she smiles and writes everything down, promising to bring out your food shortly so you could start grilling it. so caught up in your eagerness to destress and enjoy a delicious meal, you didn’t notice how a tall man kept his eyes on you.

you were about to unlock your phone and scroll through the various apps when the sight of a large glass bottle being slammed against your table makes you jump in your seat.

trailing your eyes upwards, you were taken aback upon seeing a handsome man with deep, grey eyes staring down at you. locks of wavy, ebony hair was seen falling across his forehead as he pours the liquid into the shot glass.

“a pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to dine all alone, so how about i keep you company?” he flashes you a kind smile, offering the shot glass filled with a clear liquid to you. by now, your heart was pounding in your chest, becoming flustered while beneath this devastating man’s amused gaze.

despite how you didn’t enjoy drinking, something about this perfect stranger’s alluring charm made you want to appear poised and cool enough to handle your alcohol. with a determined nod, you take the shot glass from his hand and down the whole thing with one gulp-

the burn was immediate, and you nearly choked until the familiar flavor of lemon-lime fills at your tastebuds. your eyes widen with realization, meeting kind grey eyes once more as he sits across from you. “no need to panic, i’m not big on drinking either, so let’s enjoy some of this crisp soda instead.”

“y-yes. that would be nice.” you admit to him with a bit of a dreamy expression on your face. now that you were completely relaxed, you were able to see just how gorgeous he was-

and you were dumbfounded at how he came to you.

he feels your gaze and smiles at you, “my name is sung jinwoo.”

you nod and eagerly tell him your name, knowing your heart was steadily melting for him. when your food finally arrived, jinwoo was the one who helped with grilling your favorite cuts of meat, all while serving it to you with a bowl of rice and all of your favorite sides.

throughout dinner, you basked in jinwoo’s presence, enjoying the night with him as you told him all about your interests and the things that brought you joy-

but little did you know, jinwoo had already known all of these things about you.

his meeting with you had not been a serendipitous one, oh no.

when jinwoo first caught sight of you, it was when he saw you walking out of your apartment and ran some errands. where you had gone, he had long forgotten by now, but all he knew was that the moment he saw your face-

all he wanted to do was protect you; to shield you from the world while taking you in his embrace.

it was crazy that he could feel so strongly about another human being at first sight. it’s just… something about you pulled him to you-

like it wasn’t gravity that was keeping him grounded to the earth, but you.

and jinwoo never wanted this feeling to disappear.

he takes advantage of his powers as the shadow monarch, placing only the best of his soldiers within your shadow while watching your every move. and when merely watching you through a haze of darkness wasn’t enough, then he’d resort to physically following your every move.

jinwoo was proud to say that he has stalked you for close to a year now, memorizing your schedule and the places that you frequented. of course he knew that you weren’t big on drinking alcohol-

or how you cried during your favorite dramas-

and the way you fell asleep while clinging to your favorite plushies.

he documents all of these nuances pertaining to you, keeping several journals on him, documenting your likes and dislikes with his own musings, all while praying for the day he can meet you naturally-

a day like today.

he had stood outside your workplace, hiding his face beneath the hood of his hoodie while watching your movements through his soldiers’ eyes. anger coursed through him each time your coworker and supervisor piled on the work for you, further exhausting you.

when you finally stepped out of the building, jinwoo could see the relief in your eyes all while allowing his gaze to soften for you. wishing to make his first meeting with you as picture perfect as possible, he shadow exchanges himself toward your favorite restaurant before getting a table.

now it was just a waiting game-

and you were perfectly ensnared within his trap.

jinwoo notices the way your eyes kept sneaking glances at him, with you eating your meal without truly tasting anything. he could hear the slight hitch of your breathing and was delighted to hear the way the blood seemed to rush through your veins as your heart raced for him-

you were finally his.

wishing to further cement your growing affections for him, jinwoo pays for your meal before offering to drive you home, not once daring to leave your side the moment you step out of the restaurant together with him.

as jinwoo drove you home, he felt saddened at the fact that he would need to leave you so soon, not wishing to make you uncomfortable while pushing the boundaries you may not be ready to break-

however, he was certain that the disappearance of your boss and coworkers would spark some concern within you, and that you’ll run into his arms soon enough-

it was only a matter of time.

end notes: lmao don’t mind me, i just miss sung jinwoo so much (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[queers-gambit]

History of Clocks

prompt: Carmy asks you out, Carmy thinks it's platonic. Carmy and Claire go on a date, Carmy forgets to cancel. how strong - or brittle - is your friendship?

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!bestie!reader

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Nights Like This

word count: 10.8k+

note: strap in, this is a doozy. a masterpiece, but i digress.

warnings: humiliation / being stood up in public, i guess miscommunication trope, Carmy's a dumb fucking boy (and a lil bit of a dick), emotions are hard, angst, this Barbie copes through writing, girls being girls over fashion, love confessions, unrequited love, drawing boundaries, depiction of anxiety, nicknamed!reader has a dog, Cicero's niece reader 'cause why not! alcohol consumption (reader's a wine girlie)! and brief depiction of smoking! use of literary devices*, hurt no comfort!

*literary device warnings: a lot of repetition and too many idioms - some flow, others are kinda forced. please roll with it.

If someone asked Carmen Berzatto who his best friend was, he'd have zero hesitation to list your name. If someone asked who understood him the best, he'd say you did. If someone asked who supports him most outside his family, he'd shout your name first, declare your love as unconditional. If someone asked who or what inspired him, he'd insist it was you. But if you asked Carmy who he took romantic interest in, he'd answer Claire.

If anyone asked you ANY of the aforementioned questions, each response would be the same: Carmen Anthony Berzatto.

The two of you had been friends well over a decade by now, enduring his tenancy in Copenhagen and his residency in New York; plus anywhere in between. Sure, of course, it was frustrating having him gone, you missed him in abundance - but your pride outweighed everything. To see him chase and achieve such dreams brought you unparalleled joy; so much so, it didn't matter your pain of missing him. In turn, Carmy genuinely contributed much of his success to you, claiming your friendship is the central pillar that kept him upright; your blind encouragement what propelled him forward; and how a single phone call, hearing your voice, was like audible Xanax that quelled anxiety and self-doubt.

You had a tailored way of speaking to him; a way that never pressured him, but tried to show a different perspective to soothe his overactive thoughts. He describes you as optimistic, which, in his mind, was refreshing because of his violent pessimism. So, he attributed you as someone who kept him in balance.

A partner in crime. Another pea in his pod. Each other's missing half. A best friend.

For a while, this was enough.

You knew Claire was back around, but didn't put much stock in it because Carmy never did. Foolishly, you thought it was because of you - that maybe he harbored some feelings for you as you did him, and that's why he was uninterested in Claire. Through his transition being back home, Carmy had relied on you heavily, especially in the wake of Mikey; sharing intimate moments of emotional turmoil, doubts, fears, hopes, worries, dreams. Something in you both shifted; thinking perhaps you had aged past petty, fleeting flings and could focus on farming meaningful, real, lasting, supportive relationships. You foolishly thought you and Carmy were seeing one another through rose tinted glasses at the same time; that his were finally on.

You had been in the back office, wrapping up necessary paperwork for The Bear's operation when Carmy suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Hey, Honey, you got a sec?" He asked, wiping his hands on a dish towel; broad shoulder supporting his weight on the doorframe.

"Sure, whatcha need, Bear?" You glanced away from your paperwork to smile at him.

"What're you doing Friday night?"

"Uh, probably laundry? Why?"

Carmy chuckled and asked, "Wanna go out with me to this new marketplace? They have this place that does a fusion menu I've been wanting to try."

"Oh, I don't know, babes, I'm kinda out of clean underwear," you joked, both snorting identically.

"C'mon, pretty girl, go out with me. I'll even pay."

Apparently, in Carmy's mind, the phrasing 'go out with me' was purely platonic whereas to your ears, it was being asked out on an actual date. A miscommunication - or misunderstanding - that would position you both towards pain and difficulties.

"Oh, then I guess I can make it work. Where and what time do you wanna meet, Bear?"

"There's my girl," he smiled so prettily.

Carmy set the time. Carmy set the location. Carmy sought you out. Carmy asked you to go out with him. So, you didn't think to specifically clarify this meant Carmy was seriously committing because it sounded like a secure plan.

You should have.

Apparently, after parting ways with you, Claire contacted Carmy later in the night and made arrangements for their own date - on the same night, at the same time as his date with you. Carmy was so over the moon about going out with Claire, though, that he completely "forgot" to cancel on you, let alone tell you. Which felt very deliberate, considering the pair of you were so close, you were in the room post his appendix surgery - and if you've ever been there when someone's coming out of anesthesia, you know it can get kinda... intimate. So the fact that he never "thought" to tell you about Claire was a malicious blow - even if he did it unknowingly by being hyperfocused on where he'd take his lifelong crush, what he'd wear, even practicing certain topics of interest that would help him keep conversations flowing. The determination to make this date with Claire prove himself worthy of being loved, of being a priority in someone's life, mirrored your own desire - but specifically with Carmy.

You're not even sure how long you've harbored these feelings. Was it since high school? Maybe after? Was it before he left Chicago? Or when he was in Copenhagen, calling you when he got off work to chat on his walk 'home'? Maybe it was after he came back stateside and gifted you a leather-bound parchment journal where each page had a different dried, pressed, preserved floral. He labeled each bloom, dated the pages, and detailed where he was when he found each flower in silky ink from a fountain pen. The script truly looked poetic on the 'aged' pages.

"Oh, my God, Carmy - oh, wow! Look at this!" You gasped when presented the gift, gingerly leafing through the journal. "This is so - who thinks of something like this, wow, oh, look! Carm, I-I-I don't have the words, babes, this is just so beautiful, I'm blown away right now."

He shrugged sheepishly, hands in his pockets, "I picked any flower that reminded me of you." You'd come to read later that each page had an inked explanation of why these flowers made him think of you.

You beamed, clutching the journal to your chest, "Thank you so much, Carmy, I-I love it. No, really, I do!" You insisted when you saw his expression morph, "It's honestly the most thoughtful gift I've ever gotten, thank you so much."

"It's nothing," he eased, but the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks were glowing bright. "I just didn't want to bring you home some novelty bullshit, like a 'I heart Copenhagen' mug; you deserved something better, more personal. You're a huge part of why I even went... Even bigger reason why I came back."

It was arduous to keep a level, pessimistic attitude; to gaslight yourself into believing your best friend didn't have feelings for you, that he was just being nice. Soon, it felt like wherever you turned, you had reason to suspect his feelings had changed; so upon being asked out, you abandoned logic and allowed yourself to flood with optimistic euphoria.

On Friday, you showed up at the agreed upon location; excited to take your taste buds on a culinary world tour without ever leaving Chicago with a real worldly chef. You thought you looked nice; carefully selected fashionable clothes (that ensured didn't look like you tried 'too hard') with chunky heels; your hair styled, make-up so perfect it could've been the featured look of a YouTube tutorial. Not wanting to wait on the sidewalk for safety reasons, you stepped into the fusion restaurant. After checking in with the hostess and earning a compliment from her on your fit, you were lead to a two-person table draped in navy linen with a contemporary floating candle centerpiece.

"Are you expecting company this evening?" She asked kindly, handing you a menu.

"Yeah, I'm just a little early. We're - yeah, no, I guess it's a date? He, um, he should be here soon," you rushed, flushing when you mentally scolded yourself that she didn't care and you needed to stop oversharing.

"Oh, no wonder you look so stylish!" She gushed. "He's gonna love it, you look beautiful - but not as much as I love your purse. I've always wanted one like it, but maybe in burgundy." You told her the store you got yours at, explaining it was a discount-department store buy, but the designer was sold at other easily accessible stores. It was nice to have a friendly, normal conversation; just two girlies, exchanging fashion tips which helped you feel all the calmer. The hostess who's badge read Laura nodded with a smile, "Is it okay to leave his menu here, then? I can take it back with me, if you wanna share?"

"No, no, you can leave it - I didn't bring my reading glasses," you tried to joke, wincing at the awkwardness.

"No problem," she set it down. "Can I get you anything in the meantime, honey?"

You almost laughed, instead smiling, "Oh, uh, water would be great, thank you."

The dining hall was relatively moderately full; several tables empty, waitstaff in matching navy uniforms dotted around, the lighting low to create a warm (or romantic) ambiance. You nervously checked the gold bracelet-watch inherited from your grandmother, clocking the time as 6:24.

There was no need to stress yet, so you studied the menu and made mental notes of what sounded good, what dish paired with what. A person could only look over menu options so many times, however, so you answered a few emails and texts before mindlessly scrolling through social medias to kill awkward time.

Around 7:05, your chest felt warm with something that made your intuition catch flame.

You texted Carmy: hey are you running late? you haven't texted me you're on the way yet 🤨

While to some, saying 'you haven't texted me yet' might sound a little overbearing, crazy, or pushy - maybe even spoiled - you did so because you knew how scatter brained Carmy was. He had an incredibly unpredictable, stressful, and chaotic job, which meant he sometimes lost track of time and needed reminders of other responsibilities / obligations outside The Beef, soon-to-be The Bear. You two had a friendship built on trust, fully able (and encouraged) to be yourselves and send borderline crazy messages to each other. You said it in person, why not over text?

The sweating glass of water was refilled, invisible timer ticking inconspicuously in the background, bread basket missing several sticks, the dining room now about 75% full.

Glancing around, you felt nauseated when you noted several couples enjoying romantic dinners; others with easy smiles and jovial laughter, happy to partake in the good tidings of loved ones. All around you, there was a smorgasbord of buzzing conversation you couldn't decipher. You had nothing else to do but focus on random moments of clarity, deducing some patrons were meeting for business; others were on dates, one table was celebrating their friend's new promotion, another, a birthday.

Yet here you sat, alone in the middle of a popular, high-trafficked restaurant; silent, isolated, feeling as if you were some zoo exhibit. Your plaque would read: Behold! The Stood-Up Single Woman!

While irrational, you felt other patron's beady eyes glazing over you - as if everyone could just tell what was happening. Their eyes made you sweat, feeling perceptive and heated, heavy and hateful. They watched you in your exhibit as if to affirm their situations could never be so bad because at least they weren't like you: stood-up, outcast, and humiliated. Their pity reeked. Their muttered words of prediction filled the stuffy space.

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

Tapping your phone screen set on the table, the time now glared as 7:33. So, you sent another text: uh, hello? Carmen! i thought we agreed to meet at 6:30? what's wrong?

Your message delivered, but there was no response.

Anxiety filled your heart, mind, and soul; being pumped through your veins to absorb in your bones - which created a sort of ripple effect within your chest and abdomen. Hair stood on the back of your neck. Stomach torqued in fear. Lungs deflated. Esophagus twisted. Chest hollowed and sunk. Right leg bounced at Olympic speed. Fingers twitched nervously, picking at cuticle, teeth chewing the skin off raw lips; eyes drawn to the entrance just in case Carmy showed up... In case anyone showed up. Skin burned and sizzled under the long, pitiful stares of patrons and employees alike. Heat flushed your body with embarrassment as if under Broadway stage lights; making you feel clammy and uncomfortable.

At 7:36, you double texted: Carmy?

Why wouldn't he answer you? Why wasn't his location updating? You worried something happened, he always messaged you when running late - so why not this time? Was something wrong? Did something happen? Wouldn't Sugar or Richie or one of the nine fucking Faks have called you?

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

At 7:45, Laura returned to your table, asking, "Would you like to see our drinks menu again?"

"Oh, uh, no, thank you, it's not necessary. Could I do another glass of Moscato, please?"

"Of course. Could I interest you in the bottle, you think?"

"At this point, yes ma'am," you chuckled at yourself.

"Any appetizers? Or more bread?" Laura asked sweetly.

You ordered multiple somethings to keep appearances, feeling bad you had sat there without ordering for so long; but also figuring if you were here, might as well enjoy trying something new, right? As the pretty young thing with a slicked back bun walked away, you were left to stare at the other undisturbed menu across from you, the candle wax dribbling into the water it floated on. Snatching your phone in hand, you glared at your message thread with Carmy, sending another: what the FUCK, Carm? answer your phone!

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

By 8:24, you had called him a total of 15 times.

The dining room was packed and poppin' by now, making shame cloud your shoulders from taking up precious optimal space on a popular date night. In truth, you didn't notice just how busy the dining room had gotten, but you know what they say? "Time flies when you're having fun," but it fucking trudges by in a mocking, lazy taunt when being actively humiliated.

At 8:32, your bottle of wine was polished off and you finally texted Richie: hey Cousin, is Carmy with you?

He answered within a fucking minute: no he left over a while ago for a date with Claire Bear

A record scratched in your brain, rapidly typing: what??? what does that mean???

Richie replied: damn, Cuzzo, you should know what a date is or has it been that long? 😂

Your throat swelled shut, nodding sadly and locking your phone; rolling your lips between your teeth to prevent yourself from having a very public, very emotional breakdown.

The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.

With a sharp sniffle, you flagged Laura down, pointed at the menu, asking for your meal to-go and the check. She could hear the warble in your voice, so when she returned with your to-go order and check, Laura had snuck a couple extra things in your bag without charging you. And she only charged you for a glass of wine, not the bottle.

Laura earned herself a generous gratuitous tip as well as all the cash in your wallet, being a little over $150.

Returning home around 9:03, you could identify the dreadful feelings of rejection; how forgotten, taken for granted, disappointed, abandoned, replaced you felt. Unloading the food on the counter, you made yourself a plate and looked at your phone one last time. There was still nothing from Carmy, but Richie had texted you again: you good, Cuzzo? what you need Carmy for?

Changed into a set of cozy clothes, you curled up on the couch with your food and another glass of wine; faithful, loyal, loving dog(go) hopping up beside you. Switching something on the TV, you answered Richie with one hand while fending off the pup: nothing important anymore, Cuzzo. we can talk tomorrow!

It was a strange sensation; that blatant sting of betrayal and rejection from someone who was never supposed to hurt you. If Carmy didn't return your affection, that was okay! That was perfectly fine! That was ideal, even, because you never wanted to jeopardize losing him from your life so even if you couldn't be with him, you'd rather be his friend than nothing at all. But what isn't okay, is standing you up. Forgetting you. Neglecting you. Unjustly shaming you. Publicly humiliate you. Disrespecting you. After over a decade of friendship, didn't you deserve better than that? Of course, you did - so why did Carmy subject you to such degradation? Was Claire so hypnotizing, enchanting, bewitching, she successfully managed to block all your Carmy sensors? Or were you just that forgettable?

There were too many overwhelming emotions pinballing around your heart, mind, and soul to even begin processing. So, you cuddle your most loyal companion who would never betray or abandon you, ate what you could, polished off any wine, set several alarms on your phone, and laid down on your couch to be lulled into restlessness by the sounds of whatever comfort show was left on.

After getting up early to shower off the previous night, you got ready for work and made the trek through the city. While your couch was comfortable, you didn't sleep well; eyes heavy from their sting, second cup of coffee already in your travel mug, movements sluggish. You would've called out, but today was one of those days you had to go over some legal and logistical shit with your Uncle Cicero.

So here you were.

"Yo, Cuzzo! Hey-hey, good mornin', sweetheart!"

With a tired sigh, you spied Richie outside The Beef, smoking, watching you with a smirk. "Mornin', Richie-Rich," you tried to sound as if you hadn't been awake all night.

"Well, don't you look fuckin' peachy?"

"Fuck off, I'm not in the mood."

He held a hand out to prevent you from passing him, asking, "Yo... Hold on, what's good with you? And don't feed me no bullshit, I know something's wrong. You look like shit - but I mean that in concern, Cuzzo."

You decided not to comment, answering instead, "I just didn't sleep last night."

"Uh-huh... And?"

"And what?"

"That's it?"

You shrugged, "Nothing else worth dwelling over."

Richie cocked his head, "The fuck does that mean? Here," he offered his cigarette, which you accepted.

"Nothing's wrong, can we just - "

"Fuck all the way off," he scoffed, "you know the sooner you tell me, the sooner I stop askin'."

"It's... It's really stupid, Cousin."

"Don't make no difference to me; if it's bothering you, tell me."

You dropped the butt of the cigarette to the sidewalk, squashing it under your heel before leaning back into the wall with a long sigh. "I should preface this all by admitting, I might have feelings for Carmy - "

"Yeah, no fucking shit," Richie laughed, seeing your deadpanned expression. "Dude, holy shit, everyone can see it except you two idiots, it was high time someone admitted it. Tina and Mikey used to have a bet going about y'all ending up together."

Your frown deepened. "Right, well, glad everyone's so entertained and well-versed on my doomed love life," your eyes rolled.

"'Doomed'?" Richie chuckled, stopping when your expression turned crestfallen, rushing, "Woah, hey, I'm just teasin' you. C'mon, Honey, tell me how you're doomed?"

You were quiet, staring at your sneakers as you tried to build the courage to verbalize the situation. See, once you said it out loud (and to anyone), it becomes tangible, public, and undeniably real. You didn't want this to be real.

Just as Richie was opening his mouth to question (or nag) you, you admitted, "Carmy and I had plans to go to dinner last night..."

Richie paused, then asked, "But he was with Claire?"

"Exactly."

"I... Don't think I follow, Cuzzo?"

You huffed, "Cousin, Carm asked me to dinner, right?" Richie nodded. "He picked the time and place, then apparently, made plans with Claire but didn't tell the other. So, I got there last night, right? I waited for two hours, Cousin, but Carmy never showed, never answered my messages. He stood me up. He chose Claire."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Unfortunately."

"Wait, lemme get this straight. So, he asked you out?"

"Yes."

"And made a legit plan? To link up? Time, place, whole thing?"

"Yeah."

Richie readjusted his stance, his anger flaring - reminding you of the diagram Lilo drew for Stitch to show how full of 'bad' he was. "And you're saying, you got there, waited for him for hours - fuckin' plural - and he didn't show up? No text, no call, no nothing?"

"Correct. I called and texted plenty, though. No answer."

"Right, but he didn't cancel your date when Claire came in the picture? Or vice versa, what-the-fuck-ever?"

"Nah."

"Just left you there? Alone?"

"Yep."

"Hold up, hold up. Homie made a date with Claire Bear before or after he made one with you?"

"Now that, I don't know. But does it matter which date came first, he still stood me up for someone else."

Richie blinked a few times, nodding silently with pursed lips. Then he snarled and tried to surge past you for the door, "Oh, I'll fuckin' kill him - "

"Yo, yo, yo, hang on! Wait, hold up! Leave it be, Cousin, it's not worth the hassle - "

"Nah, nah, nah! He doesn't get off scot-free! Nobody puts Baby in a corner and nobody fucks with Honey!" The two of you tussled on the sidewalk, you refusing to let him pass but him being stronger. It was quite the sight.

"No more Dirty Dancing references!"

"Hater! Lemme go, Honey!"

"Listen to me! Please, for fuck's sake! I don't want this to be anything bigger than it already is! Listen to me, I just want to get some work done with Cicero and go home. Okay? Okay? Goddamnit, Richie! It's not the time for this! Leave it alone for today! I just want peace!"

Richie eventually calmed down enough to let you push him back a couple feet. It took two more cigarettes, but you managed to pacify Richie enough for you to enter The-under-construction-Beef together, discovering most employees already present. Yet, in a rare and odd occurrence, Carmy wasn't; which would've normally confused or worried you, but now, only relieved you. As project manager, you worked intimately with Carmy on a daily basis - which poses as an obstacle if you were trying to avoid him - but without him, you could focus on getting work done and not dodging him.

"Behave," you reminded Richie in a lower register. He swatted at you, picking at a donut Marcus created.

"Mornin', Miss Mamas," Tina greeted, glancing over her shoulder to flash you a warm smile - requiring a double take. "Oh, baby, you look exhausted."

"I feel exhausted," you cleared your throat, greeting her with a quick peck to her cheek.

"Oh! So she can say it and it's fine? But when I do it, it's an issue? This is hypocrisy! Double standard bullshit!" Richie barked with laughter, shuffling past with a swift peck to your temple. Tina pushed at his belly as he passed, making him grunt and flinch dramatically.

You asked Tina, "Is Cicero here yet?"

"In the back with Sugar, baby."

"Thank you, Chef."

Richie watched you walk away from Tina only for Marcus to stop you, then Ibrahim needed something and it looked like everyone was gearing up to bring some kind of problem to your plate. Like a good cousin, Richie swooped in to place a donut in your hand, "All right, all right, back off, you jagoffs, let the lady breathe." He shooed you onward, feeling protective enough to intercept anyone to give you the space you needed after last night. You told him you wanted to work and go home, so he was going to do what he could to give that to you. The moment you disappeared into the office, Richie hissed to any surrounding employees, "Get the fuck over here!"

"The fuck, Richie?" Tina snipped, "We got work t'do, baby."

"I know," he rushed, glancing over his shoulder, then back at the others, "but I want everyone to go. Fuckin'. Easy. On Y/N today. Okay? Got it? She's got some shit to do with Cicero and then she's gonna go home - so, let's make sure that happens, no exceptions."

"What happened? What's wrong? Is she okay?" Marcus asked in concern, his frown deep enough to lower his brows.

"Yeah, Richie, you can't say that and then not explain," Syd tacked on. "I'll talk to her. -"

With grit teeth, Richie scooted in front of Syd and warned, "Hey. She's my fuckin' family, right? I'll protect her from anything - including you jagoffs, so leave her alone today. Okay? That's all I'm asking - Leave. Her. Alone." He glanced around and lowered his voice as the others all dipped inward to hear him, "Fuckin' Carmy asked her onna date last night then stood her up and went out with Claire instead."

This caused an angry ripple to emit from the huddle. You were none the wiser; in the office, sat at the desk to go over what Sugar had prepared for your review. Cicero leaned on the desk beside your chair, arms crossed, just watching you as if a bug under a magnifying glass. He pushed his glasses up by one finger to the noseband, glancing at Sugar and asking, "You all right, doll?" There was a pause, then a hand nudged your shoulder, "Honey? You hear me?"

"Hmm?" You looked up, "Oh, wait, sorry, were you talkin' to me, Unc?"

"Yeah, darling. I mean, you look pretty tired, just asking if you're all right?"

"Wow, I come into work as my most beautiful, natural self and all anyone can say is I look tired?" You laughed, trying to lighten the mood, "Maybe I do need make-up."

"You're also in joggers."

"I didn't feel like putting jeans on this morning, sue me."

"And you're quiet as hell."

"So? Usually you're telling me to shut up."

"You have a college degree in yapping," Cicero chuckled, "so when you go silent, I know something's wrong."

"I'd have multiple PhD's if yapping was a real major," you joked. "But I promise, Unc, I'm all right. I didn't sleep last night, so, after we get this shit done, I'm gonna head out."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Unc. Tell you what, you can even drive me home when we're done."

Cicero nodded, "Good deal. Then, let's get crackin'."

It was the worst timing in the History of Clocks.

Pete called Sugar several times, so she finally answered when Cicero needed to run to the restroom; leaving you alone and defenseless in the office as Richie was out back for a smoke break. Carmen apparently arrived just in time, all but bolting into the office when he didn't immediately clock you in the kitchen.

The invisible timer began to tick.

"There you are!" Carmy gasped, startling you enough for your knees to bang up into the desk. "Ohhh, shit," he blinked when you grunted and rubbed your legs, "I'm so sorry, Honey, that was my fault, I should've called or something as I came in."

"It's fine, Carmen. Look, uh," you gestured to the paperwork before you, "we're almost done here, do you need something or can it wait? Kinda your restaurant on the clock..."

"I mean, it can wait, but are you busy, like, right now-right now? 'Cause, lookit, I gotta tell you, I had the best fucking night. I'm so serious, Honey. I went out with Claire - you remember Claire, right? - and it was, wow, just wow - I mean, this girl is the whole package, you know?" You bristled when he took a seat on the edge of your workspace and realized he was carefully avoiding usual pet names. He continued to ramble on about his incredible date with the incredible Claire, missing your lips pursed in patient annoyance as you listened to him without reaction; staring emotionlessly at the laptop screen. "Hey," Carmy waved a hand in front of you, causing you to flinch and automatically look towards him - albeit in annoyance. "Where are you right now? You're not here, in the present with me. You all right?"

You couldn't help but bite, "Mhm. Where's your phone?"

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

"What?"

"Your phone, Carmy, the thing you pay a monthly bill for so people can get in touch with you, or you with them. Ring any bells? Where's your phone, it'll play bells for you."

"Woah, hey," his hands went up in defense, "what's with the hostility? I left my phone somewhere here last night, Honey."

"Oh, sure. How convenient - "

"No, look, I'm serious - look, look around the fuckin' desk!"

You glared at him before shuffling the few papers and files, ready to snarl at him when you found his phone. "Why's it here?" You asked stiffly, handing over the shut-off device.

"I forgot it, I was in a bit of a rush."

"There a reason for your rushing?"

"Yeah, to get to my date with Claire - see, you weren't even listening to me, were you?" He let a twinge of frustration taint his tone, "You wanna bite my fuckin' head off about my fuckin' phone that I forgot at work, fine; but you're so mad about it that you didn't even listen to me? Jesus, fuck, who are you, my mother?"

You swear you heard 'oooohs' coming from outside the office.

"Oh, fuck you, Carmen! How about you check your messages before trying to come at me, you fuckin' bitch," you snapped, slapping your laptop closed and starting to pack up the desk.

"What the fuck are you so pissed off for? 'Cause I didn't text you 'goodnight' or 'good morning'? Grow the fuck up - "

"Hey!" Cicero charged into the office, interrupting the argument. "I don't know what the fuck is happening, but we're busy in here, Carmy - "

"No, actually... Actually, we're done for the day, Unc, I can do everything else at home."

"No, Honey, hang on - "

You stood abruptly to gather the last files from the desk, "No, it's fine, I'm exhausted anyway. I got stood up last night waiting for this jackass, so as you can imagine, I just want to go home, away from any and all others right now."

"Woah, hang on," Carmy pleaded, checking his repeatedly dinging phone he managed to turn on, "wait, what the fuck is this? Why did you call me - holy shit, seventeen times?!"

"Could you drop me at home, Uncle?" You pleaded softly.

"Of course, princess, but what the fuck is going on?"

You could only manage a fake, sad smile, "Carmy's the jackass who stood me up last night."

"No fuckin' shit!" Cicero gasped, looking between you. "Uh, yeah, yeah, Honey, sure, I can take you home, c'mon, let's go."

"I left these for Sugar, they're all filled out if she can just file them - the rest I can do from home," you tapped the files left behind, leading the way out of the office; Carmy stood to the side in shock as he caught up on his messages. "Think we could grab something to eat on the way?" You asked, desperate for distraction.

"Whatever you want, doll, of course," Cicero agreed easily, following you at a close range. The others scattered like roaches, pretending they weren't listening, but... C'mon... You know?

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

"Wait! Wait, Honey! Please, hang on," Carmy called after you, repeatedly shouting your name. "Wait, please, wait, wait, wait, hang on!" He pleaded in a race against time to clear the kitchen and reach you before you could walk away from him for good. His hand wrapped around your upper arm in a desperate attempt to stop you, but it only made you flinch.

"Carmen," Cicero spat in warning.

"It's okay, Unc. It's okay, we should probably hash this out, you know? I can - I'll meet you out front," you promised softly, patting his arm raised to protect you from Carmy's grab.

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

Cicero gave a 'harrumph' and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, glaring at Carm before taking his leave. You huffed and crossed your arms, turning to face your best friend, sneering, "What could you possibly have to say to me? You said enough last night."

"The fuck does that mean, we didn't even talk!"

You snapped, "Your silence was really fucking informative, Carmen!"

"That's what you're not fucking explaining to me! I don't even know what you're mad about!"

There was satirical amusement donning your expression as you gave a gruff chortle of disbelief. So, you broke it down, "By you not canceling the second you and Claire made plans or remembered you made plans with her first, by not answering me all night and humiliating me, leaving me there, alone, so you could go out with Claire said all I needed to hear. It was all you had to say. You were so fucking loud, it's a miracle I haven't burst an eardrum!"

"Honey," he sighed like you were a child throwing a tantrum, "it was an honest mistake. I don't get why you're blowing this up? We've literally forgotten about plans before, just help me understand why this one is so different? I want to fix this, tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Speaking of bursting an eardrum, the invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

Tears broke your waterline, "You've always been my best friend, Carm."

"You're mine, too - "

"But at some point, things changed for me. I get it's a personal problem, so I kept quiet because I loved being your friend, being in your life - I tried not to be greedy, but now I see we were just racing this inevitable clock. When you and I went through everything with Mikey, I thought it made us closer, stronger - "

"It did!"

" - but I also thought that maybe you weren't seeing me as before, as some kid, but as I am now - a woman."

"Honey..."

"Let me finish," you bit off, tears dripping down both your cheeks. "I still never said anything, I never wanted to pressure you, and truthfully, I always knew you had a thing for Claire, I knew one day someone would come around and replace me, but I still loved you. Despite everything with my family, with yours, I loved you. Despite any of my own reservations, my own fear about ruining what we have because it's better than losing you completely, I loved you. Despite the physical distance and all of your emotional distance, I loved you. And then, you come up to me, out of nowhere, and you asked me to go out with you. Twice, you phrased it that way, Carm."

"Honey, baby, please - "

"You asked me to go out with you, you set the time and place, I agreed. I showed up... I sat there as people came and went through the night, Carmen. It was humiliating an-and degrading and mortifying. Only to find out within seconds from Richie that you had left for a date with Claire - when there I was, alone, waiting for you, too. Like I said, I always knew you had a thing for her, and I knew one day someone would replace me, but holy fucking shit, Carm, I thought you had a little more decency, more respect than that after years of friendship - "

"How could you say that to me?" Carmy snapped with tears racing down both your cheeks, mindful of the distance as to not crowd you. "Knowing you're my best friend, the only person - "

"How could you leave me there, Carmen!?" You cried, making him freeze. "That was downright cruel and so fucking hurtful. So much so, in fact... I-It makes me feel we shouldn't talk for a while."

"What?"

"I'm so sorry, Carm, but I just - I don't think it's fair to anyone involved, nor those around us, to remain friends right now. So, we just... Need a break, or something. Being your friend is too fucking hard and so exhausting, it's been at my expense... We just need a break."

"No, hey, h-h-hang on a second, baby, wait, please," he halted you from turning away. "Listen to me, please, I'm so sorry. I really am, sweetheart, I'm so fucking sorry. Okay? I-I'm so sorry I forgot my phone and didn't see your calls or texts - "

You let your hand wave as if to physically pause the conversation, breathing, "That's what you think I'm upset about?"

"Well, yeah, and I'm sorry I couldn't call you, but you saw, you found it - I forgot my phone!"

"No... No, you didn't forget your phone, Carmen. Jesus Christ, you forgot me," you whispered, taking two steps back so he couldn't touch you even if he tried. "I really don't think we should talk anymore, okay? What you did was really fucked up, what you made me feel was even worse. I'll still help with the restaurant, I promised I would, and unlike you, I can be taken for my word because it means something. But I don't think you and I should work together, you make me so fucking uncomfortable - "

"No, hey, wait, baby, please, listen, listen, listen - I made one mistake," he pleaded, trying to step towards you but you reared back another three. "W-Why're you punishing me - punishing us - for one mistake? Please, Honey, I know I fucked up, but let me fix this!"

"Well, a stitch in time saves nine."

"The fuck?" Carmy chided, eyes narrowed.

"It means by doing proper the first time, you avoid problem later - but you don't have a lick of accountability, do you? No forethought, no comprehension to how your actions will affect others! It's not just 'one mistake', it's not just you standing me up, Carmy! Jesus, fuck, it's everything! I just poured my fucking heart out and you can't even say you love me back, can you?" You gave no time to answer, "No, of course not, because it's Claire - it's always gonna be Claire! It's always gonna be someone! So, I-I can't play second fiddle anymore, I won't - I can't be in love with you while you're in love with someone else, Carm. You've kept me on your back burner for too long, you forgot me, so you're not allowed to be surprised the kettle still whistles. I just can't do this, Carm, it's complicated and it hurts, it's not fair to either of us. So, I'll remove myself, no problem and work from home, but if I have to be here, please, limit our interactions best you can. For my sake, I'm begging you, give me fucking space."

"You're just gonna throw us away? I fuck up once, and that's it? Just like that?" Carmy begged, sounding earnestly confused. He looked like a kicked puppy. It broke your heart in a way last night couldn't. "I made one mistake, Honey, okay, yes, I take full responsibility! Please, let me try to fix this, okay? Please? I'm so sorry, I know that doesn't cover it, but lemme try to make all of this up to you. C'mon, baby, please, don't let me be the reason we both lose - just - okay, just let me fix this, please!"

"No, you know what? I'm not throwing anything away, I never did, Carm, you did when you chose Claire over me," you shrugged, tears strangling you once more. "Now, I need space... Can you give that to me or is that too much to ask for?"

"Why're you talkin' t'me like that? I-I'll give you whatever you ask for, Honey, you know that," Carmen sniffled, eyes reddening by the minute; hands going from hips to hair to forehead and back, unsure what to do.

You managed to get out, "I don't even know you anymore, it seems," before fleeing the kitchen, lungs choking on nothing. You couldn't get air in. You couldn't push any out, it was all so choppy and violent. With a hollow chest, you escaped out the front door; hating that you had to ignore Sugar and Richie calling after you, stumbling on the sidewalk and into Cicero's idling car.

"All right, let it out, you're all right, Honey. You're safe with Uncle Cicero," he soothed, rubbing your back as he pulled into traffic. "I know, I know... We all know, I'm so sorry this happened. What a fuckin' jagoff - you want me to pull my money from this restaurant? I'll do it - I'll do whatever - "

"No, no, no," you whimpered, sniffling and wiping your cheeks. "While I appreciate your ready and willingness to defend me, I don't want it at Carm's expense. I'll just work from home, it's not a big deal, and then... Maybe if I have to come in, I know Richie will be there to be a buffer, but maybe you could - "

"I'll be there whenever you ask, princess, you know that."

"Thank you," you squeaked as he drove past your usual street. "Oh, uh, I'm down South - "

"I thought we could make a run to the store, make sure you have all your comfort snacks so you don't have to go back out. Or do you wanna go straight home? You tell me, princess."

You gave a watery smile, a new wave of emotion choking your words, "Snacks would be really nice, thank you."

"You have dinner?"

"I don't know - "

"We'll get you some," he comforted, patting your knee as you just needed a safe space to cry. And for now, that was the front seat of your Uncle Cicero's 6-figure car.

You knew it was a formal invitation the moment you caught sight of it at your doorstep, indicating it was hand-delivered and not sent through the mail. It sent a flurry of unknown emotion through your veins; angry by its arrival, yet excited by what it meant. With a glance up and down the hall of your apartment landing, you found yourself alone; bending to pluck up the envelope and enter your home. Keys to the bowl, shoes left at the door in the foyer, coat hung up, purse deposited to the available end table; phone being pocketed as you turned for the kitchen to drop all mail on the counter.

You didn't open anything.

Instead, you got on with your evening after working your usual 9-5. After a steaming-hot shower, you smeared on a facemask to hydrate your tired skin; then shimmied into soft loungewear and fixed your hair for the night. In the living room, you turned on Netflix for background noise before scouring your kitchen for an appropriate dinner that would hopefully nourish you after such a busy day. You debated a glass of wine, thinking you didn't need it, but then pouring one as the glittering envelope taunted you from where you left it. You drank, glaring at the little piece of stationary as you cooked a simple stir fry concoction. Carmy taught you to clean while you cook, so, once your meal was dished up and whatever could've been stored in the dishwasher was, you poured yet another glass of wine, snatched the invitation, then nestled in the living room with your meal.

You still didn't open it.

The coffee table was larger than others; big enough to double as a work desk; the perfect height for you to still access while lounged back on the sofa. You had all kinds of documents spread, most pertaining to The Bear - which was finally set to open in about a week. It would've been an exhilarating time of celebration... Should you have been able to feel anything other than outright heartache.

For weeks now, you hadn't spoken to Carmy, the longest you've gone in your lives. You simply weren't ready to face the other side of rejection; spending this time building yourself up as an independent woman who didn't need no man, even if that man was your best friend. The idea that there was no place for you in Carmy's life or room for him in yours felt farfetched and illegal in some manner, as if it were taboo. You had a lot of navigating to do, and much farther to go, but for now, you were still in the adjustment phase. Never had you been without each other, it was weird to think this was it, there wasn't any going back; at least, not from you, yet, after such a putrid display of disrespect.

While you were stood up in just one restaurant, you avoided the entire marketplace as a whole out of sheer embarrassment. Granted, it wasn't a place you frequented, but it was still a hotspot some other friends had discovered and wanted to meet at for your weekly hang-outs. You couldn't tell them how triggered you felt because you didn't want to limit places to go, so, you figured bailing on them was the better option. It's not like you lied when you said you couldn't see them because of work - which was typically really crazy - but you could still make time if you wanted to; you had before. That's how much Carmy's hurt debilitated you, though.

Your plate was left to the side, dog sniffing around in the hopes of licking up whatever scraps you might've dropped; one hand holding the glass of wine, the other pinching the envelope by the corner. Deciding it was now or never, you ripped open the seal and retrieved the contents with delicate fingers, as if it would burn you.

The invisible timer started to tick.

You ignored the use of parchment paper. You ignored the perfume slightly wafting from it. You ignored the familiar script in silky ink. You ignored the certain choices you remember picking out, now used officially on the friends and family opening night invite.

You smiled sadly, letting the parchment card fall to the envelope left on the coffee table's corner. You took a long breath in, jaw wriggling; tears slowly forming, but not falling. For weeks, you had avoided any direct reminder of what happened; knowing you still worked as project manager, but able to sort of schedule your emotions around deadlines and necessary interactions. This particular piece of mail was impending, but unexpected today; where being invited to see the completed restaurant you helped design and erect was all but expected - just not today, per se. While every fiber of your being wanted to attend, nothing felt right about accepting when you knew you'd more than likely run into Claire and would have to interact with the others.

It felt too soon.

You had no right to go around any of them anymore.

What would you say?

Sniffling your emotion with a deep sigh, you leaned back to your back couch cushion with the last of your wine tipping to your mouth. While petting your pooch fondly, you wrestled mentally pros and cons, different logistics, like: who did you message your rejection or acceptance to? Did you bring a date? Did you go with Cicero? Were you supposed to wait after the crowd cleared to mingle with your friends? Were they still your friends? What did you wear? Should you make legit plans with other people so you had plenty of distraction that evening? So you had a solid alibi? Would anyone even question your absence?

Your dog whined when your phone vibrated violently in a phone call from another cushion. With a sigh, you leaned forward to set your wine glass down and snatch the offending object, answering, "Hey, Unc."

"Hey, princess. You busy? This a bad time?"

"No, no, I just finished dinner and am trying to will myself to finish the dishes. What're you up to?"

"Gettin' ready for bed - just wanted to check in on you..."

"Ohhh, I get it - so, you got a pretty little invite in the mail, too, huh?"

"I got something, yeah. I think it looks pretty nice, don't you think? Definitely Sugar's design."

You held back your sarcastic quip about how you had all but designed the invites, so, you answered instead, "Yeah, real nice, Unc, yeah, she's got real talent. You goin'?"

"Uh-huh, no beating 'round the bush with you, is there?" He sighed, making you smirk broadly, "I am, I'm goin', gotta visit my money, you know? Well, I was wonderin' if you wanted to go with me?"

"Oh, Unc - "

"I know, I know, but it could be nice. Just us! Or we could double date? My treat - I'm paying - "

"I don't know if I can go yet, I haven't checked my schedule. I got home, made dinner, ate, answered your call."

"Oh, shit," he laughed. "Well, you think about it and let me know, Honey, okay? Okay, seriously, it'll be nice, we can go together, or separate - you know, don't let me cramp your style."

You laughed, "Nah, you kinda up my game."

"As I should. All right, pumpkin, well, I should run - but you think about it, let me know what you think, okay?"

"Okay, Unc, sounds good. We'll talk soon, I love you. Goodnight."

"Love you, too, doll, goodnight."

The invisible timer ticked louder.

The invitation was the only thing clipped to the front of your fridge. It taunted you at every passing moment. For days, it demanded your attention - succeeding only because you knew you had to RSVP to someone. Friday loomed closer and closer, Cicero had sent you two reminder texts, and try as you might, the fracture to your heart wasn't easily plastered.

There was nothing but heavy pain each time you thought about attending, so, on Wednesday night, you texted Sugar: hey babe! love that F&F is happening! sadly i have some work shit to do so i can't be there ☹️💔 but the invites are gorgeous! congrats on everything, i can't wait to see it! thanks for thinking of me for the guest list! good luck on Friday! 😘

Then you texted Cicero you couldn't make it, and while he understood, Sugar replied: Thank you, my love. Fak was so proud to show us how to work Canva for those invites 😂 Sure there isn't anything I can do to change your mind? We'd all love to see you there!

You answered: no way, this looks like real handwriting! technology's going too far. and yeah babes, i'm sure, i got work shit so unless you yell at my boss, i'm kinda stuck 😂

Curiously, Sugar requested a photo of your invite; but without curiosity, she also requested your boss' phone number. After you sent the image, she replied: Oh wow! I guess Carmy went rogue and gave you a fancy handwritten invite. What a jerk. Is he still a jerk? I can't remember, we haven't talked about what happened! 🥲

You promised: nothing to talk about now, Sugar Mama. all good! i gotta run but i love you congrats again, gooooooooodnight! ❤️

You hated avoidance; the dejection, festering unworthiness, self-imposed punishment and isolation. Yet it was all you had now, rationalizing you were protecting yourself and this was a necessary defense for your newly instated peace. Sometimes, you had to do things like miss events because you're healing - and that should always take precedence because you were nobody's priority but your own.

You put a red line on your calendar through the words 'THE BEAR', nodding as if in assurance of your decision, then yanked the invitation from your fridge. Yet you hovered over the trash can, fingering the lettering and remembering Sugar's text: Carmy went rogue and gave you a fancy handwritten invite.

The trash can lid slammed shut.

The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.

In your bedroom, you pulled a handheld trunk from your closet and knelt to the floor. Inside the trunk, you had placed all triggering Carmy centric mementos and memorabilia; dropping the invite to the towering piles. You carefully pushed some letters out of the way to pick up the journal he gifted from Denmark; flipping it open to any random page for study. Then you compared it to your invite and let a small, fond smile tug on yours lips; confirming it was Carmy's script, that he had, indeed, gone rogue.

When the trunk shut, so did the lid of your feelings.

Opening night had been something of a disaster, but the staff was ready to handle whatever obstacle. Granted, the head chef getting locked in the walk-in freezer wasn't on anyone's bingo card, Sydney was still a fucking superstar and commanded the kitchen in a gorgeously fluid and respectful manner. Richie stepped up and proved he was a newly-appointed expert in hospitality. Fak could take... some... direction. All in all, while not ideal or what was expected, it was an incredibly successful opening night! The staff was all rightfully proud of themselves, riding euphoric adrenaline highs.

The invisible timer began ticking.

Despite knowing Carmy had been freed from the freezer, nobody could locate him. Some theorized he went home to blow off steam, others teased maybe he went home with Claire - missing the way she left in tears earlier. However, when Tina, Fak, Syd, and Richie left the kitchen, they paused and let their proud smiles drop upon discovery of Carmy sitting, alone, in a back booth of his restaurant.

A dim, yet unmistakable comparison to what he did to you months ago.

There was temptation to leave him there; the entirety of the staff pissed off to the point they were giving Carm the cold shoulder for what he did to you. They credited you with damn near everything "The Bear" was, because while not your idea, not your dream, you gave it life and brought this place into fruition. Not to mention, you had taken on work as project manager for free - paid in the value of knowing you were helping such a good cause. A good family. It was a repeating fact; your everlasting endearment and compulsive support for anything and everything 'Berzatto'.

Yet despite their own simpering feelings, it was all dwarfed on examination of Carmy's decidedly pathetic statue. Syd felt a level of guilt the entire night, feeling it increase on sight of her technical boss; but to Fak, Richie, and Tina, who took Carm's slight against you personally, this was a heart-melting sight. There was a strange, mutual desire where the group went from wanting to kick Carmy's ass to just wanting to give him a hug and help the poor emotionally-inept dumbass.

"Go," Tina snarled quietly, pinching Richie's under arm.

"Me!?" He spat in shock, "Man, hell nah, fuck that guy!"

"Fuck you, too, Richie, c'mon," Sydney chided, pushing past them to lead the way up to Carmy. "Uh... Heeey, Chef?" She greeted in an unsure, sing-song voice.

"Chefs," he nodded meekly, immediately looking back to his anxiously twiddling fingers.

"Hey, Carm," Fak smiled warmly. "Whatcha doin' here, bud? Why're you all alone? In the dark? That's kinda creepy, dude."

"Nah, nothin'. Just, uh... Just waitin'."

"For what?" Fak asked, Richie smacking his arm. The tattooed man with a mustache flinched and cried, "What!? Now I can't ask my friends questions!? He's the one sitting in the dark like the Undertaker! Jesus!"

"Dude, just pause, be quiet," Richie scolded, shaking his head to silence the confused Fak. At Carmy, Richie directed, "Yo, Cousin, c'mon, let's just - let's all go home. C'mon, man, let's go. It's closing time."

"Yeah, yeah, uh," Carmy sniffled, "you guys go 'head, I'm gonna wait up for a bit."

"Carmy, it's late," Syd tried, "we aren't just gonna leave you here. So, come with us."

"Yeah, baby, c'mon," Tina tacked on in sympathy, "it's been a helluva night, we should all get some rest."

Fak and Syd and Tina all tried to encourage him with them, but Richie remained silent; just surveying the Chef. When a natural lull came after Carmy insisted again they go on without him, Richie scoffed, "Dude, c'mon... You know she's not comin'."

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

"Richie," Tina hissed.

"What?" He barked with his hand raised, glaring at Carm. "C'mon, man, it's late, she knew what time this was - and she told Sugar she couldn't make it 'cause of work. That's pretty definite. So... So, c'mon, let's go, dude, she's not comin'."

Before anyone could intervene again, Carmy snapped, "You don't know her like I do, Cousin."

"Know what? Fine," Richie laughed sardonically, "fucking fine, rot here for all I care, man - "

"No, c'mon, Richie! Hey! Don't be like that!" Tina called after him, sighing in defeat. "Sorry, Chef, I gotta run - " She leaned into the booth to peck Carmy's cheek before rushing her farewells to the others, then running out the door, calling, "Richie! Wait, baby, hold on!"

Sydney and Fak awkwardly stood around, not knowing what to do or say, so Carmy insisted they go home, too; he was gonna wait just a little longer for you then head out. They believed him, or at least, enough to listen to their bodies and go home for some form of rest. Carmy twisted the locks on all doors after them, leaving only the front undone with his seat facing directly forward.

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

He waited with his elbows on bouncing knees. He waited and devised his nonnegotiable list. He waited with his feet in the booth. He waited while rearranging his ideal table setting. He waited and redid the tape in the walk-in. He waited on the sidewalk, chain smoking. He waited while scrubbing the kitchen, top-to-bottom. He waited and took liquor inventory.

He waited, replaying the events of your fight in his mind. He hated what he said, how he behaved, the expression on your face; praying you'd accept his olive branch - thinking a handwritten invitation was enough. Carmy just assumed you'd remember he was better at talking rather than writing or texting - hoping his script was enough for you to know he wanted to see you in person, not just send messages of apology. He wanted you to have space, he thought a couple of months was enough; so, hopefully you were still fluent in the words he never spoke or wrote.

This inspired Carmy to call Richie's phone to leave a voicemail of apology and love after reminiscing their own fight. It also made him want to call you, too - but this urge was resisted when the image of your heartbroken expression shot to mind.

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

Eventually, Carmy settled in the corner booth; arms crossed, feet up, still watching the door. He noted the sun was rising and the city waking up; cars buzzing by, commuters starting to crowd the sidewalk. His eyes burned with the yearn for sleep, yet his mind would not quell; unable to forget your tears, the devastation you showed, how he was the sole cause of it all.

Carmy repeated he was a failure, he let you down and betrayed any and all trust the pair of you had in one another. He should've told you the truth; that he could see himself loving you romantically, he just never thought it was an option, so it purely wasn't on his radar. In Carmy's mind, even trying to cross such an important friendzone could make you feel unsafe if you didn't feel the same way; so it was something he wrote off long ago. It was part of why Claire was so tempting to him, but he needed you - like a fish needed water.

He was able to comprehend (now) that his actions weighed on more than himself, but you, too; that given proximity, you were forever doomed - or destined - to be his collateral damage. Carmy also understood this wasn't a lease you could continue to cosign for any longer when he desecrated the house and home your friendship lived in. So, it was his job to prove he could be the man you fell in love with, that he could deserve you; all he needed was a chance, and it was better late than never.

Understandably, Carmy felt pitiful, purely ridiculous that this is what it took for him to realize nobody mattered to him more than you; nobody could ever compare, there would never be a competition. That he didn't care for Claire's thoughts, opinions, nor ideas like yours; how he found himself wanting to impress you, not her; hating when his phone rang with her ID and not yours. You had given Carmen exactly what he wanted, and yet, it was everything he hated and nothing he needed. Carmy prayed to an unspecified deity that your decade+ friendship was strong enough to withstand - or recover from - his insolence.

Yet when the front door opened, it revealed only Richie; a delight unto itself, but not the ray of sunshine the mournful Chef desired.

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

Carmy deflated with definitive defeat into the booth, tears falling in rapid finality. His lips parted just a fraction to let his breath escape in easier huffs, a buzzing whine filling his ears as icy realization washed over him: your friendship was truly well and over.

"Cooked," as the kids say. Your friendship was cooked.

Richie paused in the walkway, sighing deeply before slowly moseying over. He silently placed a twin cup of coffee to the table and dropped to the booth across from Carmy, both silent and stewing. Richie peaked up first, finding Carmen's attention locked on the door like a golden retriever; but the flooding tears halted any derisive comment he instinctively wanted to hurl. Richie asked before taking a sip of coffee, "She didn't show, did she?"

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

"Nah, she didn't," Carmy whispered, the tears flowing faster, "'cause I really fucked up this time, Cousin. She's really fuckin' done with me. Not that I blame her, but... But holy shit..." Carmy dissolved into lung-stuttering tears, bowing his head in shame as he obviously attempted to get a handle on his emotions; only ever used to having them freely around you.

Richie sighed and leaned over the table to clap his hand to Carm's shoulder, muttering, "Hey, hey... For what it's worth, I'm really fuckin' sorry, Carmen... I am, I know you love her." His lips rolled between his teeth, letting Carm have his (several, long) moments before trying to sound lighter, "Look, of course, Honey didn't show up to open, but she doesn't have a malicious bone in her body. You haven't shown her you're sorry! She's still pissed off and worse, she's hurt, Cousin! Know what I mean?

"I know," Carmy whispered in despair.

The invisible timer ticked louder, faster.

"So, cut the fuckin' shit, man, time is of the essence! Maybe if you, like, stopped fuckin' cryin' and actually try fuckin' apologizin', Honey'll soften up - you know, like, feel safe enough to come around sometimes. Maybe be a li'l more receptive to you not being so much of a dickhead?"

This made Carmen perk up slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, questioning, "The fuck are you talkin' 'bout?"

"The fuck did I just say? Get off your ass and apologize to that girl who's so sweet, she's literally called Honey. She's human, she just wants your remorse, dude, you owe it to her; so apologize and leave her be, and when she's ready, she'll let us know, maybe even come back 'round."

The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.

After a pause, Carmy asked, "Think she'll come back?"

"Only time will tell. Apologize first, you inconsiderate jagoff."

"Way to kick a man."

"We're in this 'cause of you, you fuckin' pussy!"

"Oh, real nice, fuckin' jackass," Carm scoffed, wiping his cheeks and finally accepting the coffee.

"Now you sound like her," Richie smirked, sharing a secret snicker. The pair fell into contented silence, just mulling over each other's nights; either displaying signs of anxiety; where Richie bounced his leg, Carm picked at his fingers wrapped around the cup of coffee.

The invisible timer ticked slower, quieter.

After several too-long minutes, Richie started snickering.

"What're you laughing at?" Carm mumbled.

Richie had to control his giggles, wiping a finger in the corner of his eye, "Something that can only be explained later."

"What's that?"

"...Mikey would've owed Tina about $6k right now."

"The fuck - ?"

"I said later!"

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

-> no part two planned!

[berryblu-soda]

Agsidgdjdgd right??? *sniff* They grow up so fast 🤧!!(<- sentence for both art level and Jasons hehehe)

^^!!!!!

Glad to hear you're good :D <3<3<3<3!!!

(tumblr did a thing) HELLO??? ART PROGRESSION :O !!!

older one was already amazing!! but now it´s giving:

dsjkfhdsjfkghdfkj

also hiiiiii long time no chat <3<3<3<3 hru :)

CRYINGGG <3 <333 omg it looks like i ended up drawing a grown up version of the older one 😭😭 him but stronger so true LMAOOOO art progression real???? 🤯

hiii hiiiiiii zeo i knoww!!!!! <33333 im good!!!! hr U !!!! :D

[tikosblogg]

Okay but like….Best friend Noah, becoming all possessive over you, when a random dude stares at you a little too hard 😩❤️

Part Two Here

I was sat up on the kitchen counter, resting my head against the cabinets behind me, tucked into the corner. Noah stood to the side of me, leaning back against the counter top as a handful of friends stood in a relaxed half-circle around us, talking and sharing jokes. It felt intimate and safe, a little bubble of joy amidst the crowd of twirling bodies and laughter drifting through the open windows.

Jesse, with his animated expressions and hand gestures, had snagged everyone's attention with a story from an old touring mishap—something about a raccoon and a dumpster fire.

A gaze was fixed on me, unsettling in its intensity. At first, I glanced around, thinking it was just my imagination, but a quick sweep of the room brought my eyes to a guy I barely knew, standing awkwardly at the edge of the group. His attention was locked on my thighs, an unsettling hunger in his gaze, and my heart thudded with discomfort. I instinctively glanced down and realized my dress had ridden up more than I intended, revealing more skin than it was supposed to.

While keeping my composure, I shifted to adjust the fabric, tugging it down, but my mind began racing. Jesse’s story faded into a murmur as the weight of that stare pressed down on me. My pulse quickened, and in a moment of anxious fidgeting, I considered climbing off the counter entirely, but I didn't want to cause a scene or draw more attention.

I looked over to Noah to give some lame made up excuse to leave the group, until my words died in my throat. I noticed his eyes set in a hard stare to my left. The look on his face was serious, his stare cold. I slowly turned my head in the direction he was staring, to see him eyeing the guy, that was still currently, burning holes through my thighs. Noah suddenly stepping into the guys line of vision.

He moved in front of me, positioning himself between my thighs, his back facing me like a shield. The warmth of his body radiated towards me, and I felt an immediate sense of relief washing over me.

Noah leaned back, slightly into me my chest softly grazing his back, and turned to shoot the guy another cold, piercing stare that spoke volumes. My body shuddered at the sudden possessiveness Noah displayed toward me. His voice suddenly filled the air, making everyone around go silent. “Got a problem?” His voice was calm, but held an eerie edge to it.

Without a word, the guy took a step back, eyes wide, and then another step, shaking his head quickly retreating from the kitchen entirely. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding, my shoulders finally relaxing as I leaned my forehead against Noah’s back in whispering a “thanks.” The tension slowly slipping away.

He turned his head slightly over his shoulder, revealing a small, reassuring smile. "No problem, sweetheart." he said, his voice steady and low. It sent a jolt of warmth through me, weaving a complicated mix of emotions in my chest. I knew Noah had my back, always—yet this was different. There was a possessiveness in that simple act, a reminder that I wasn't just a friend to him; I was treasured.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, glancing up at him with a sheepish grin, feeling the rush of camaraderie morphing into something deeper. As Jesse resumed his tale, I found myself fully in the moment again, but with a newfound warmth that lingered just a little stronger than before..

Instead of moving back to his spot next to me, Noah relaxed deeper into me, his back completely pressing against my chest. A delightful heat spread through me, igniting each nerve ending with that rush of adrenaline. I couldn’t help but feel a tingle of excitement at having him so close.

I knew it was wrong. To think of my best friend this way, the one I sought solace in during rough patches, the one who many people saw as just a bestie and nothing more. I shouldn’t be feeling this way about him. But as he laughed with the others, my heart raced at the thought that maybe I wasn’t the only one who felt the tension between us.

My thighs unconsciously tensed around his hips as I tried to ground myself against this newfound sensation—the thrill of intimacy wrapped up in friendship. He must have felt it too, because his laughter stuttered for a split second as his hand reached back. Slowly, reverently, his large hand slid down the side of my thigh, making me shiver from the touch. His fingers were warm, gentle, but there was an underlying strength in his hold, like he could both protect and consume me if he chose.

I swallowed hard, my breath hitching in my throat as his hand traveled further, down my calf, until his fingers lightly but deliberately wrapped around my ankle. It was an entirely innocent gesture, maybe, but it sent fireworks through me. I could feel his heartbeat against my chest, steady and alive, matching the rapid beat of my own heart in a chorus of tension.

Noah turned slightly, just enough that I could see the smirk gracing his lips, that perfect smile deepening. "What's the matter?" he teased, his voice low and playful, not quite matching the serious tension in the air around us.

My pulse quickened further. Did he notice the way I was feeling? Was he teasing, or was there an underlying truth to his words? “N-nothing,” I replied, trying to maintain a facade of calm while my insides twisted with a mixture of desire and uncertainty.

His fingers tightened slightly around my ankle, and in that moment, the laughter of our friends faded away until it was just the two of us—the space around us pulsing with unspoken words and hidden truths. The air felt charged, electric with what lay between us, each heartbeat echoing a question that had lingered unspoken for far too long.

I finally said fuck it, and leaned in slightly closer, pressing my lips to the edge of his shoulder, feeling him stiffen just slightly at the unexpected contact. The initial shock was quickly replaced by more tension, and I could almost feel the struggle within him as I watched the playful spark in his eyes change into something deeper. Something more.

“You should be reeaal careful,” he murmured, barely above a whisper, his eyes locking onto mine with fierce intensity. All I could see or focus on was him.

I felt a rush of confidence, emboldened by the heat of our connection. “Or what?.”

[puck-luck]

the open secret | seth jarvis

warnings: oral (m!receiving), allusions to free use after the fact, cockwarming pairing: seth jarvis x fem!reader summary: bestie!jarvy head as inspired by this request: "i'm a simple girl with simple wants (blurb abt giving bestie!jarvy head and he's like goofy and silly and guiding the reader's head) (OR, on the other hand, post-loss head to make him feel better cause that's stinkabutt and he deserves it for his game this post-season)". I combined the two <3 wc: 2568

You weren’t ashamed of your oral fixation. It was like an open secret between your friends– you always had a pen, or some gum, or a nail in your mouth. You were constantly chewing on something and you weren’t exactly coy about how much you loved to go down on your partners. 

You spoke about it often enough that your best friend Seth had taken to finding a new way to shut you up, as if you were the talker between the two of you. Over the past few months, he would trace over the line of your cheek and press his fingers onto your tongue while you were mid-word. 

The first time it happened, you were stunned silent, looking up at him with doe eyes until he withdrew his hand and apologized in a sheepish voice. 

“I don’t know what came over me,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied, uncertain but aching to move past the awkward moment. 

The second time, you had watched him think it over. You had seen the look in his eyes change. His eyes had been fixed on your lips for nearly an eternity (it felt), and you saw him cock his head from one side to the other. He licked his lips and blinked, his gaze cloudy and far away. You watched his fingers rise up and how his thumb stroked over your chin before he slid the digit into your mouth. 

The moment was so heavy. It felt like all of Seth’s weight was pressing against you with just his one finger in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue while his pointer finger rested underneath your chin. It pushed into the submental space, creating an unnaturally satisfying pressure. Almost mindlessly, your lips closed around his thumb and you sucked.

Seth snatched his hand away in an instant, his eyes wide and full of shock. 

“Oh my God,” he said.

“Jarvy, it’s okay,” you replied, shaken by his reaction.

“I have to go,” he announced and booked it. He was out of your presence in a split second, and if it had been a cartoon, you could have seen the cloud of dust he had kicked up in his wake.

It hadn’t happened since, but Seth had thought about it. You knew because he continued to get that far away look in his eyes when you spoke for too long, his gaze trained on your lips. You thought once that you saw his fingers twitch at his sides and it drew your gaze, which snapped him out of his. You had watched him shake himself out of it multiple times, even when there was already something in your mouth– the straw of your coffee, most notably. 

You had seen him flush a little, his cheeks red, when the two of you went on a little lunch date and you applied lip gloss right before sipping your iced drink. Then, a bit of chocolate had dripped onto your finger from your croissant and you licked it off. You were filled with a sick sense of joy when you watched Seth shift in his seat and not-so subtly look down at his lap.

You hadn’t considered Seth in that way before you noticed his fixation on your mouth– he was just your best friend, a man who you could joke around with an tease and have a good time. He was unnecessarily mean at times, although you knew by now that it was how he expressed affection. He was cuddly because he was energetic and loved to touch his friends. Now, you were thinking that maybe he was touchy with you for another reason and that he was being mean because he was flirting with you. 

Your other friends agreed and slowly, over the course of the first two rounds of the playoffs, you realized that you weren’t just friends with Seth either. That was why, when the Canes lost in the second round to the Rangers, you weren’t terribly upset. 

It meant that Seth was coming home and staying home, at least for a little while, and you could make your move. 

You and Seth made plans to see each other the day following the loss. He spent the night alone at home, mourning the end of his season and resting after battling through injury for so long. He hadn’t even told you about it, just occasionally acting miserable about some soreness in his joints. You were angry about that, sure, but you knew a way that he could make it up to you.

But all of that hinged on getting Seth to put his fingers in your mouth again. 

He came over to your apartment under the guise of watching a movie– a low-risk activity, because you were still punishing him for not telling you about his injury. He knew that if he had told you about it, you would have told him not to play. You would have convinced him that it was dangerous and that he would just hurt himself more and the worst part is, he would have listened. He would’ve prioritized you over hockey, which is much more dangerous to him than any injury could be, considering you’re not even together.

You let Seth pick the film, because you obviously weren’t planning to watch it. He chose to watch Wolf of Wall Street, like a typical man, and as much as the success story and subsequent downfall of Jordan Belfort interested you, you didn’t care. You talked. You talked and talked through the movie, something you knew Seth hated. 

He was reverent when it came to films he enjoyed, and you knew that each time you opened your mouth, he clenched his jaw just a little bit harder. He was holding himself together well, but when the elevator scene comes on, you know you have to make your move.

“Jealous,” you mumbled under your breath, quieter than most of the things you had said during the film, but loud enough for Seth to hear. 

“What?” Seth asked, looking to confirm that he heard you right. 

“I’m jealous, Jarvy.” You threw your head back on the couch cushions in exasperation and tilted to look at him. “It’s been so long since I had something in my mouth.”

Seth paled at your words. The color drained from his face in the way that it does when a man thinks something dirty, but is ashamed of it. You almost wanted to laugh at him, but you held yourself together. 

“You, uh, haven’t been with anyone lately?” Seth asked, feigning nonchalance by clearing his throat. He wiped his hands on his shorts, shifting in his seat.

You threw yourself over his lap, draping yourself dramatically. This wasn’t uncommon for you to do, but Seth stiffened. He was tense beneath you, no doubt trying to keep you from wiggling over his cock and causing him to grow hard. He’s already a little stiff just from the thought of your lips wrapped around something and the bliss that he imagines would cover your features.

“No,” you whined, complaining with a miserable pout on your lips. “Every guy I’ve met is just so boring.”

“Boring,” Seth repeated, already looking a little far away… your pout had served its purpose. It had drawn his eyes to your mouth and now he was transfixed, his mind still racing with the image of your lips around a cock– his cock.

You sighed in satisfaction when you felt his cock twitch in his shorts, growing harder near your head. It would be so easy to just reach over and take him out of his shorts, fit him in your hand, and suckle at his tip. You covered up the satisfaction by pretending like you’re sighing in frustration.

“What should I do, J?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

He’s quiet, still watching your mouth. His hand found your arm, rubbing it softly. His other hand toyed with the ends of your hair. 

“Seth?” You pressed.

“I could…” He trailed off, bringing his thumb down from your hair to caress your cheek.

You stared up at him, hoping to look helpless, hoping to look like you needed him to guide you. You wanted him to think that it was his idea, that he made the jump from friends to more. You just led him there.

“Do you want something to suck on?” He asked.

“Mm-hmm.” You nodded, hoping your hum came out like a whine.

He brought his thumb to your lip, tracing the bottom edge of it. “I could give you my finger,” he offered.

You nodded again, opening your mouth to take it.

“Or,” he wondered, then hesitated.

You pulled back, eyes shining. “Or what?”

“You could suck my cock.”

The idea sent a shiver up your spine. Seth said it like he’s nonchalant, like he’s just throwing it out there, but there’s a hint of desire in his eyes. He needs this, you can tell. He wants this.

You licked the pad of his thumb, fitting your tongue around the digit. You bobbed your head just a little bit, never tearing your eyes away from Seth’s. While his pupils were still transfixed on your plush lips around him, you trailed your hand up his thigh to palm his bulge. 

His lips parted at the contact, giving you a good view of his tongue sweeping over his chapped lip, then biting it. 

“I want to,” you said, sliding his hand from your mouth to intertwine your fingers. You maneuvered so that you were between his thighs and he was laying longways on the couch, the Wolf of Wall Street still playing on in the background. You bit your lip and pulled the waistband of his shorts down, achingly slow. You brought his underwear with them, inching them down to reveal his cock, which sprung back toward his stomach once your freed it. You paused, then admitted shyly, “Been thinking about it.”

Seth moaned at that, taking your hand again and holding it against his chest. You pushed his shirt up so that you could splay the fingers on your other hand over his abdomen, thumbing over his happy trail. You looked up at him from between his legs, your mouth open near the base of his cock.

You leaned forward, drawing one of his balls into your mouth. You lathered your tongue over the skin, groaning softly at the feeling of having something in your mouth, at the taste of Seth. You held him in your mouth for a moment, savoring the slightly salty, very musky taste that enveloped the buds on your tongue. You drew your mouth away reluctantly, licking up his shaft until you reached his tip.

His cock kicked against your lips, but you followed it with your jaw wide. You took the head into your mouth, closing your lips around it. You sucked in soothing, gentle beats, closing your eyes with the satisfaction that came with having something in your mouth again– something you had plotted so diligently to acquire.

You let out a quiet moan, content with where you were. You sucked on him the way you sometimes, shyly, always alone, sucked on your own thumb when you were feeling particularly needy. It was slow and deliberate and comforting.

And absolutely miserable for Seth. 

It felt good– God, of course it felt good– but it wasn’t enough. You were teasing him, your lips tight around the most sensitive part of his cock, your tongue occasionally flicking over his slit to gather his precum. When it wasn’t tasting him, your tongue was pressed against the underside of his tip, flexing with each suck.

And the way you looked up at him, fuck. Your eyes were wide and full of love and Seth could barely handle it.

He gasped and brought a hand to your hair.

“More,” Seth breathed out, pushing your head down, but not hard enough to actually move you. He didn’t want to make you gag.

You gagged yourself anyway, sinking lower and lower until you had taken all of him in your mouth. Even then, even after gagging, you looked up at him and the only thing that could describe the light in your eyes was this: you were filled with glee. 

Seth’s chest felt tight, like he couldn’t take in a full breath. He was stuttering, no longer paying attention to the movie. He couldn’t form words– for someone who talked so much, you were proud of yourself for rendering him speechless. 

You bobbed your head, drawing Seth closer to orgasm with each stroke. You let your eyes shift in and out of focus, looking up at Seth at times so he could see the tears building along your waterline. You took in the hair on his body– the dark line of his happy trail, the tickle of his trimmed pubes against the tip of your nose on particularly deep swallows. 

Seth’s hand squeezed yours, his grip tight. “Fuck, Y/N.” He thrust his hips up, causing your throat to constrict around him. You moaned at the reverent call of your name, bringing your other hand down to trace the skin of Seth’s balls, cupping them gently in your palm.

You could feel them tense beneath your fingers, a laugh building in your throat. Seth wasn’t far from orgasm now. You pulled your mouth off for just a second to say, “You should come, Jarvy.”

His jaw dropped open, hand tightening in your hair. He convulsed under you, twitches that pushed his cock further down your throat until his tip was brushing the back of it. His spongy head was bumping against your oropharynx and it sent shock waves up his spine with each touch.

He chased the sensation, curses tumbling from his lips as he started to let go. He filled your mouth with his tangy seed, and whined at the moan you released, wanton as if you were drinking the nectar of the gods. You swallowed eagerly, your muscles working around the length of him.

Seth came for what seemed like forever, the aftershocks keeping him tense. His hand stayed on your head, keeping you there. His hand stayed on your hair to ensure that you were still real, because if he looked down at you again, he’d come for a second time. If he looked down at you, holding his softening cock in his mouth, still so happy to be sucking on something, he might pass out. 

You could fit his cock in your mouth much better now that he was soft. You readjusted, laying with your cheek on the inside of his thigh. You burrowed into him, filling yourself with him, and closed your eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Seth groaned out, confused.

“Finish your movie,” you told him, words jumbled as you spoke around his length. “Wanna hold you a while longer.”

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, the sounds of The Wolf of Wall Street filling your ears. Seth’s hand pet through your hair and lulled you to sleep, a bit of drool leaking out of your relaxed mouth and onto his thigh.

When you woke, you brought him to orgasm again. When you came over to his the following day, you kneeled beneath him again. Like you said– your oral fixation was an open secret. Seth just used that to his advantage.

notes: guys i need some fingers in my mouth SOOO bad. i'm also a slut for hickeys and for giving head so i fear i just need something in my mouth... i am y/n fr

[talaok]

The world needs more daddy Pedro with a baby/toddler

pairing: dad!Pedro Pascal x reader

a/n: I wrote this for the sole purpose to stop crying cause like get a grip girl and it didn't even work so yup... enjoy. (Also, I 100% agree bestie)

You woke up gasping for air, your baby's cries sounding through the baby monitor doing a damn good job at interrupting your sleep for the third time tonight.

You let out a breathy grunt as you turned to your side.

Pedro was looking at you, for some god-forsaken reason, with a smile pulling at his lips.

Of course he would find the silver lining in all this.

"I'll go" you whispered

"no, don't worry"

"Baby you already went twice" you protested

"It's fine, really" 

again, another smile.

"u sure?" you asked, secretly praying to whoever was listening that he was, in fact, sure.

"I'm sure mama" he nodded, kissing your forehead "You stay here and rest"

"alright" you sniffled, not even trying to fight the yawn climbing your throat "Thank you baby"

He got up from the bed, glancing at you one more time before quietly walking out of the room.

...

He didn't need to turn on the lights, he would have known how to get to his daughter's room with his eyes closed by now.

He was the one who got up to check on her most of the times, and there were two main reasons why:

The first one was that he had never been much of a sleeper, so anytime she started crying, chances were, he had already been awake.

But the second, and perhaps most important one, was that he didn't mind, hell, actually, he loved it. He treasured that moment, the feeling of holding his own child (yes it still felt weird to say), of hearing her breathe, sensing her tiny heartbeat, watching as the eyes she had inherited from her mother struggled to remain open... it filled his chest with something so powerful he had no idea how to describe it, it was just- it was pure joy, pure love.

And this time was no different.

He gently picked the tiny creature screaming at the top of her lungs up and out of the crib, holding her in his arms as if she were a lost treasure.

"hey angel" he cooed, softly bouncing her to try and soothe her 

"what's wrong?" he murmured, tenderly stroking her head "Tell daddy what's wrong"

"Are you hungry?" he asked mostly himself "No you can't be hungry, now I fed you an hour ago"

"nope you don't even need to change your diaper" he concluded after examining her

"what is it then sweetpea?" he murmured, drowning in her big beautiful eyes.

God, he had the most perfect baby ever

"you had a bad dream, is that it?"

"I'll tell you what, how 'bout we sit here," he said, as he took a seat on the armchair next to the crib "and I sing you a song huh? You liked that last time"

"yeah?" he smiled, watching her studying his face as if she was waiting for him to start.

She was already starting to calm down.

He had that effect on her.

"then get ready pumpkin"

...

"what are you doing?" you murmured, watching your husband holding your sleeping daughter.

You had come looking for him when you realized his side of the bed was empty.

"I don't want to wake her up" he explained

You smiled as you took in the image.

He was watching her as if she was gonna disappear any second now.

Without a second thought, you pulled the other arm-chair in the room right beside the one Pedro was sitting on.

"What are you doing?"

"There's no way I'm letting you sleep here alone" 

He beamed as he watched you sit down next to him.

You rested your head on his shoulder, his scent wrapping around you ever so quickly, as you both looked down at your daughter.

Tiny breaths were fleeing her tiny lips as she slept soundly.

"she's perfect" you smiled

"she is" he agreed, resting his own head on top of yours.

"I love you y'know?" he murmured, after a moment of silence "I love you two more than anything in this world"

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt and your heart threatened to burst.

"Me too honey" you promised "more than anything in this world"

[stxrshxpxd]

his precious

pairing: jim halpert x reader

word count: 1k

warning: none

prompt: reader is nervous about a sales meeting and her flirty office bestie jim helps her out

I couldn’t stop the sigh that ripped from my chest as I sat down in my chair and dropped my bag on the floor all in one heavy movement. I had dreaded this day for about a week. Jim’s eyes were on me instantly from my left.

“Morning,” he said cautiously, almost in a question.

“Goodnight,” I replied and laid my head on my forearm, enjoying a moment of pitch black behind my closed eyelids. Jim laughed weakly and it brought a little joy to my dark core.

“What’s up?”

When I peeked back up I saw he had lowered his head too, peering at me from under his soft fringe and with his chin pressing into his own forearm. It felt strangely intimate and the whole thing made my belly flutter shortly.

“Sleep bad?” he asked again.

“I guess.”

Sitting up straight, I sighed again and watched him mirror my action. His eyes were big and sweet and seemed to have no interest in abandoning me for his computer screen.

“I have that sales pitch with the library today, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m the worst salesman this office has ever seen.”

I truly couldn’t remember the last sale I had closed and the last time my salary was anything above bare minimum. Knowing that in about an hour I would have to sit in that meeting and fail once again made my stomach twist with anxiety.

“Wait, you’re going with...” Jim started and his face contorted with some amusement as he knew the answer but wouldn’t say it.

“Dwight,” I finished his thought with a firm nod and Jim tried to contain his playful smirk at my misery.

“By all means, bask in my pain.”

“I’m sorry,” he laughed and leaned forward, petting my arm swiftly with his hand. His warm fingers sent tingles through my body and another type of anxiety settled in my abdomen. I definitely thought Jim had begun touching me a lot more in the last few weeks. He always seemed to stand closer than normal and went out of his way to whisper inside jokes during meetings. It all made me terribly hopeful that he might be feeling what I’m feeling.

“Dwight’ll close it though, you just-“

“No, cause I’m supposed to lead the whole thing. So that I learn or whatever,” I cut him off and sank down in my seat. “Besides, I don’t think Dwight possesses enough empathy to step in and save me from failing.”

“He definitely doesn’t,” Jim agreed and I sighed once again, readying myself to lay my head down against my desk and close my eyes for another few minutes. But then Dwight came back from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand, and, more interestingly, Jim fully grabbed my wrist. It made my heart jump and I stumbled after him, allowing him to lead me away with a mischievous smirk.

Pulling me into the kitchen, Jim let go of me but stayed close as he fished his cell phone out of his pant pocket. Hushing me, he leaned in even closer and pointed at Dwight’s back in the distance while he held the ringing phone between our ears. I had caught on to what he was doing, but I couldn’t focus at all with his nose an inch away from mine. For three dial tones everything was still and quiet and I swore I could feel his soft breaths. Then Dwight picked up.

“Hello.”

“Hey, uhh,” Jim began in a deep, contorted voice. “Is this Mr. Scoot?”

I had to cover my mouth to keep from giggling at Jim’s indecipherable accent and he silently hushed me and then bit down on his lip, his smile slightly slanted and so pretty.

“It’s Mr. Schrute.” Dwight corrected and I glanced at him shifting in his seat.

“Right, right. My bad, sir. Well. I have a truck full of hay here at your door and there ain’t nobody here to sign for it. Now, I could-”

“It wasn’t supposed to come until next Thursday!” Dwight cut off and I smiled at Jim’s animated sigh of relief. His plan had worked.

“I will be there as soon as I can,” Dwight blurted in our ears and I watched him slam the phone, already heading in our direction. Jim was quick to hide his phone in his pocket again and swiveled around to act occupied, scanning the insides of the nearest cupboard.

“Jim! I have to go. Hay emergency. You’re taking my place on the library sales pitch with your precious Y/N,” Dwight exclaimed with some disdain and was out of there as quickly as he had entered, leaving me alone again with Jim and his now violently blushing cheeks. My heart had dropped and then jumped up to my throat. It took a moment before he looked at me again and either of us spoke. His precious Y/N. Had he been talking about me with Dwight? That didn’t sound right. Were we that obviously flirty?

“Thank you,” I laughed emptily and Jim looked at me for a second before gazing down at his shoes.

“Yep, no problem,” he laughed back and rubbed his neck.

Yet another long moment passed of quiet and discomfort. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at Jim’s golden brown hair and down his tall body, dressed in his usual black and white. He looked so good.

At last I tried to steer us back to our normal repertoire.

“Man, I can’t wait to see Dwight’s face when he gets back here.”

“Oh, he’ll kill me,” Jim nodded, his cheeks having lost some of their red tint and the tension easing again. “Luckily I’m bigger than him.”

“He’s stronger,” I teased and began heading out of the kitchen.

“Hey, I just helped you out majorly. Watch it, Y/L/N!” Jim joked and followed me out to our desks. I caught a big glimmer in his eyes as he smiled and laughed with me, and my belly flipped again.

“Okay, let’s go over this pitch.”

[sthavoc]

Hi bestie!! Can I please request this It’s Enzo’s birthday party at a club and you’re friends but not like besties and of course you have a huge crush so during the party he tries to spend a lot of time with you and you’re like is this real? but a lot of friends and girls are congratulating him so he steps away.

So when he comes back to you he says “I know what I want as my present” and you’re nervous like ok ? and he goes “I want a kiss” so you smirk playfully and say “oh sure close your eyes” and you kiss his forehead and he looks at you like stop messing with me and you go “oh is this not what your looking for ? Maybe you want this ?” And you kiss idk his cheek and you get closer and closer to his mouth until he says “don’t tease me you’re gonna regret it “ and you’re like “prove it “

And bam. Sparks fly. 🎆🎇

My inspiration was this video honestly he looks so good ! Thank youuuuu

https://x.com/enzovarchive/status/1767580921610268732?s=46&t=RPVpXPGkWnVvjZR8AmB-Qw

🎉꡴ 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 | ENZO VOGRINCIC

·˚ ༘ pairing: enzo x fem!reader

·˚ ༘ summary: for enzo’s birthday there is only one thing he asks and wishes for, a kiss from you.

·˚ ༘ warnings: teasing.

·˚ ༘ note: guys I’m so lateeee but I still can’t believe enzo turned 31. he looks so good in that videooo. where I live it’s still enzo’s birthday so I decided to still post something. I’m so sorry if I have any grammar mistakes, I didn’t have time to proofread.

Today was Enzo’s birthday. You couldn’t help but feel the excitement pump through your veins as you stood in front of the man, your heart fluttering with joy as well. The devoted attention only made your heart go faster and the thoughts that were rambling all over your brain couldn’t be controlled.

You couldn’t believe that Enzo instead of spending his birthday dancing and hanging out with the rest of his friend group was spending it with you, out of all people. It was surprising because the both of you were not that close as much as the rest of the cast, and even if you weren’t you still couldn’t help but gain the feelings you accumulated.

“espérame tantito chiquita, ya regreso.” Enzo walked away quickly to be able to greet the people who were arriving at the club for his birthday.

He had been going back and forth in greeting, but he would always come back to you. Tons of girls were trying to flirt with him and being touchy but he would find a way to shut them out and come back to you.

You waited stirring your drink patiently with your hand resting above your chin. “No me imagine que fuera a venir demasiada gente.” His voice crashes your thoughts but immediately makes a smile appear on your lips.

“Pues te lo mereces.” The soft smile continues on your lips as you watch him, he as well smiling at you. “¿Te la estás pasando bien?”

“De masiado.” He drinks. “Pero te aseguro que to tan bien como ellos.” He points to the guys.

They were all gathered in a huge circle causing a riot. Their screams of enjoyment filled the area and the voices of singing did as well. They were for sure drunk.

“Hmm. ¿Y que te dieron?” You make a motion with your chin towards the birthday bag that he had placed over the bar table.

“Un perfume, o algo así.” He shrugged squinting his eye for a split second. His next sentence followed after a sip of his drink, something that made you think. “¿Te acordas que me preguntaste algunas veces que quería para mi cumpleaños?”

“¿Ah huh?” You nod not thinking so much about it.

His eyes stared into nothing else but your eyes. “ Ya se lo que quiero”

His look made you a tad nervous, swallowing you replied. “¿Y que es?” but his answer was the cherry on top for your nervousness.

“Un beso tuyo.” He smirked as he noticed your reaction, but you thought, two can play that game. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol.

“¿Un beso?” Your lips reflected his smirk as you stared at him. Was he getting closer? or was it the tension that was growing?

“Sí.” He passes his tongue through his lips wetting them.

You had thought about wanting to kiss Enzo, there was no denying it. But for it to ever happen was never in your thoughts, for you guys never spoke on the daily or for hours.

The bit of alcohol you had in you was giving you the confidence you needed.

“Dale.” You nod followed by a smirk, but thought of something. “Cierra los ojos.”

He did as follows, and obviously what he didn’t see coming was that you got closer to his forehead instead of his lips. This action made his eyes instantly open and made you giggle.

Enzo let out a small sigh as he smiled again, his eyes talked more than his mouth. A look that told you he didn’t want to be messed around with anymore.

“¿Oh eso no es lo que quieres? Quizás, ¿es esto?” You let out with a hint of tease in your voice.

Your lips met his cheek but they slowly began to move towards his lips, staying close to his but not moving.

“Ya no juegues chiquita, lo vas a lamentar.” He whispered with his hot breath hitting you making you swallow.

He was challenging, and that’s what you liked about Enzo. He would prove what he was capable of doing.

“Pruébalo.” You say.

And you didn’t need to tell the man twice. His hand went towards the back of your neck pulling you towards him to cut the space that was left between the both of you. Kissing Enzo felt like a craving you were finally able to eat, a problem you were finally able to solve, and the satisfaction that came after that felt amazing.

He would constantly bite your lip but you didn’t stay behind, as so would you.

But the two of you remembered where the both of you were so you cut the kiss. Your lips couldn’t help to form a soft dumb smile, the plumpness of them was noticeable to Enzo as he passed his finger through your bottom lip, this made him bring you back for another kiss that caught you by surprise.

“Otro regalito que quería.” He whispers making the two of you chuckle.

“Feliz cumpleaños Enzo.” You looked him in the eyes as both of your hands rested on his shoulders.

To Enzo, this was the best gift he had received through the whole night because it came from you and it was you.

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

still fucked up? here's a pick a pile reading.

pile 1. pile 2. pile 3.

a pick a pile reading inspired on sundays being the longest and most tedious day of the week. i never know what to do on a sunday other than overthinking and feeling sort of gloomy.

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· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 1 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Honestly, I really dig this combination of cards. I feel like this Page of Wands is asking you to take a different approach when thinking of success. It's clear that you value material and spiritual achievements equally, but you see them as something that's too far away from your reality. I think that it is very important to recognize that you are guarded by energies that match your ambitions, and you are doing things right to become the person you wish to be. 

Other than that, it is also relevant to think of the dissonances and miscommunications that can cause you trouble when trying to face any obstacles in your journey. The Emperor and The High Priestess are both equally strong in their own ways. Both of these energies are present in your life, and they happen to be complete polar opposites, the peak of male energy and the peak of female energy. Balancing both with every step you take is difficult, therefore it's understandable if you choose to focus on one or another depending on the moment. Ideally, these two should be able to communicate with one another, so you don't betray the nature of one taking actions more suitable to the other. 

In order to do this, I'd say that it's a great moment to look at the world with child-like eyes; allow yourself to be amused and ruled by curiosity, enrich your life with first time experiences and find joy in spaces where your creativity is nurtured. Don't assume that your learning years are over. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 2 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Okay, this is a tough one. Stay strong bestie. So… Clearly that Ten of Swords is about something in your head that has caused major negative impacts on your life. I wouldn't say it's mostly about emotional distress by itself, but instead I think it's more about the prevalence of dysfunctional thought processing patterns that are being ignored or mishandled in the social and emotional parts of your life. It seems that a deep understanding of your own sensitivity hasn't been enough to cope with this. 

But, it's not all bad, as the presence of both Kings, Wands and Cups, show me that the maturity and strength is there, what's lacking tho, is a more solid sense of trust on the logic presented by sources outside your own head. Feeling trapped and buried by your own thoughts, it's common enough that you can share them with trusted ones surrounding you in order to appease feelings of doubt and desperation. 

This combination of cards shows me that you have the capacity to move from this thought provoked stagnation, to move from a mental eco chamber of negativity. To accomplish this you should aim to build more solid relations based on nurturing each other's potential and emotional strength. Don't be doubtful when taking the first steps towards what you already know you can do for bettering yourself and others. Stop being confident in negative thoughts and begin being confident in positive ones, even if you need help beginning to do so. 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · Pile 3 · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Well, one is not bad but it’s not that good either. I think the main topic of this spread is to remain cautious when material success is achieved, in order to not cause yourself emotional and spiritual harm. Sometimes our material achievements can be directly related to spiritual growth, yet, we can not deny that the energy we spend on creating success for ourselves is just as valuable as the energy we spend on our spiritual journeys. In this case, the Seven of Pentacles shows me that your sense of purpose, in resonance with patience and determination, will bring great satisfaction as long as you take time to reflect and rest from the hard work. 

Nonetheless, be careful with who you choose to be generous with. There’s nothing wrong with providing a helping hand, but make sure that those who receive it understand the value of your hard work and are not there to deceit you by playing victims. Keep an eye on anything that is causing you doubts on your enterprises, and do not fool yourself with ideas and proposals that come from unrealistic perspectives. This is a great moment to reflect on the ways your energy is being received by others. The main priority should be your well being and your stability first. You can’t give to others if you can’t provide for yourself.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ – • · FIN · • – ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

hey there, im gigi i did this tarot thing, hii. hope this was at least fun to read i guess? im just chilling with the cards and writing. thinking about making a introduction post but then idk... like i love this blog and i love tumblr so im like ayyy i get to practice my english and get back into tarot? slay. like i swear

im kinda rusty with tarot's rn but hopefully eventually I'll get back on it like i used to so i guess that if someone wants to follow me in case i open my questions inbox to answer questions with the cards and stuff that could be nice.

ugh and im also putting together a nicer space for the readings, my desk is full of paint stains (my normal job is art related lol) and there's always a university thing peaking from the side of my desk, it's like my notes are watching me while i kinda ignore them...

anyways i got like 40 notes on my first post, soooo thaaaanks omg i was so like nervous about it i hate that im this kinda shy to post tarot content anynomously like wtf how can i be like that when im posting nasty thirst traps on my personal instagram with no context?? the duality of women i guess. okay this is too much venting

bye thanks for reading, stay bad, stay focused, might post a card of the week PAC reading later seee yaaaa love yaaa

｡ ﾟ ꒰ঌ ✦MASTERPOST & PAID SERVICES ໒꒱ ༘*.ﾟ