#and for two fucking days it was doing my morning alarm as normal with NO WAY to turn it off because the screen doesn't work LOL
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Heylo my maggotsies... I'm sorry to do this but I have a thing that I really, really need to do (thank you Ash for helping me realise that) but I'm terrified to. so well. I'm going to make one of the posts (Neil reblogged me a couple of days ago so I feel pretty safe making one now since he only lurks by once in two weeks so this is as good a time as it gets to make a post and not expect many notes, yes I'm an overthinker and I'm actually scared of this getting notes).
Sigh. Here goes.
...I'm scared of even typing it.
Nope okay I can do this let's go.
If this post gets 1k notes, I'll look up jobs in design and film making that don't need a college degree.
2k notes, I'll sign up for an Alliance Francaise course so I can have another language on my CV, and I'll find a course that teaches me how to use design software.
5k, I'll look up distance learning alternatives, because just talking about physical college yesterday made me spend the whole morning and afternoon today in and out of nightmares screaming. Fuck.
10k, I'll tell my mum that I can't do the offline college. She's been talking to me about it, but I've been dodging because I'm not well-off and I really need to be earning and idk how to do that without college and I feel so guilty.
15k, I'll officially back out from the college (does that count as dropping out, if it hasn't begun? maybe half. i am a college and a half dropout, my 11th grade self would hate me and my 10th grade self would refuse to believe it).
I don't know what I'll do then. I don't know how to live as trans here in India, I don't know how to earn enough to be able to help my family, I don't know what I'm good at and I'm so fucking terrified. But. I spoke to @random-doctor-on-the-internet last night (I love you Ash you're such a fucking amazing human) and they made me realise that well maybe landing in a hospital with steroids to relieve an allergy attack because of exam stress isn't normal and so.
Well. Here I am. I know I can't do it, but I'm scared to risk everything, it's just not something people do here, dropping out. But also (TW s**cide statistics mentioned below the cut)... And so I've just. Got to do it, got to save myself and say no to college (cue say no to school, kids joke). Somehow be brave enough. And yeah.
To quote a financial express article: "In an alarming situation, a total of 7,62,648 suicides were reported in India between 2018 to 2022, Of this student suicides account for 7.6% at 59,239". Maybe if more people did say fuck you to the system here, that wouldn't be the case. That number could have been 59,240 (aside from everyone who wasn't counted and hushed up), that could have been me, and I don't want to put myself in that situation again. You know? Yeah.
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Mine
Logan Howlett/Wolverine x female!reader
Tags/Warnings: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Rough Sex, Dom/sub, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Logan (X-Men), Feral Behavior, Rut Sex, mention of frank castle, Explicit Sexual Content, Breeding, Impregnation, Marking, Blow Jobs, Logan has a big cock, and hes very hairy yes, Reader-Insert Authors note: originally posted this on my ao3, but decided to just upload the full one-shot here as well. link. Not beta'ed and no description of reader Summary: Logan unexpectedly goes into rut and you're there to help him through it.
You had no idea what you were anticipating when Logan came home from work. Before he left in the morning, he was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasnât himself. His scent was also stronger than normal. It didnât take you long to realize something was wrong, the bond felt stronger between you two like it was during the war and before you even began to make lunch, you received a text from your Logan.
Logan: I donât want you to be alarmed, but I think Iâm in rut.
This caught you by surprise. Most alphas these days didnât get ruts and omegas didnât get heats either. Just like theyâre becoming rarer as time goes by. itâs sad really, back before the war, before Hydra - you were able to go into heat. You always spent it alone back in the 30s, you even got time off from your part-time job as a nurse when you were temporarily staying in Ireland. Logan could go into ruts too before Project X. during the war you both would help each other out, which led to you both bonding until the train mission fucked all of that up.
But now itâs 2021, over 70 years have gone by and 3 years since The Snap. You are forever thankful that both you and Logan survived it. You donât know what you would have done if your beloved alpha was taken away from you once again. Since then you both decided to get a nice cabin in the mountains to get away from everything. You both were done fighting, tired of constantly losing people you loved.Â
Logan got a job in construction in town about an hour away. So he didnât usually come home until around 6 pm. You were thankful when you got the news that Frank Castle and his pack of alphas were moving a few miles away from your cabin a few months ago. You know it can get isolated in this area, so to have friends that you consider family to come and visit was nice.
There was no time to think about the next course of action though, it was clear what you had to do and something you thought you wouldnât ever do again. Logan would be back in about half an hour, which gave you time to set up the room and go for a nice shower.Â
You immediately went into one of the cupboards in your walk-in wardrobe for blankets. Logan didnât necessarily like making nests, he always said and his quote: âyaâ donât need to make those things no more lady, you use your alpha.â in his deep gruff tone. So you resorted to cuddling at least 2 times a day instead and he would fuck you into the mattress just how like it every time.Â
Once you got a mattress onto the floor with a ton of blankets and pillows littered onto it, you went into the bathroom and stripped down. You cleaned up and once you were done, you slipped on a white silky nightie that reached down to your thighs. After that you got some nice cold water bottles to put beside the nest. As you were done you heard the door click open.
Logan could smell you before he even got out of his truck. His heightened senses were even more sensitive and he could smell just how wet you already were. All he could think about was knot, breed, mate- over and over as he got closer to the door.
It was rather embarrassing when he started to sweat and get a hard-on on his lunch break. He didnât understand at first, but then recognized the symptoms to be a rut. Thankfully Frank was there to get him to leave, but damn did that hurt his ego a little.
Once he entered he was hit again with your strong scent. It was so sweet, sweeter than usual that he was beginning to think that maybe his rut could trigger your heat. He sure hoped so. Your scent was a mixture of roses and strawberries, he used to hate strawberries before he met you, but now itâs one of his favourite fruits.
You looked up from your iPad as Logan walked in and put down his backpack. âHey,â you said as you got up, but were cut off by a squeak when he immediately jumped you. He picked you up by your thighs, making his way to your bedroom, his lips never leaving your neck. He nipped and sucked little bruises into your soft flesh. He put you down gently onto the mattress and started groping your breasts.Â
âFuck, Iâve been thinkinâ about this all day, Darlinââ. Logan growls as he starts kissing down the valley between your breasts. He pulled back and slipped off your nightie, revealing your breasts and wet cunt. You blushed and looked away, but your alpha immediately notices. âHey, no looking away from your alpha now,â Logan says as he grips your jaw to look back at him.Â
âSorry, Alphaâ you shyly say. Logan only grunts back in reply as he stares down at you. You grip at his clothes, âoff, pleaseâ you whine at him. Logan immediately starts to strip down, you stare at his glorious beefy body as he takes off his pleated shirt and jeans. Your eyes traveled the trail of hair down to his already hard cock. You lick your lips wanting to taste so badly.Â
Logan notices as smirks, he leans back down to press his lips against yours, just as a whimper escapes through your lips, giving you a smoldering kiss which leaves you breathless within seconds, distracting you as he continues to run his hand up and down the curves of your body, getting closer to your sensitive parts.
You are gasping for breath when he pulls away, and in your complete haze, you watch him as he slowly climbs down your body, his lips never leaving your skin as he trails his hot kisses on you all the way down. He parts your legs further so he could get more comfortable between them, then when he presses a kiss at your nether lips, his fingers parting your folds so he could find your slick entrance and give a long, hungry lick right at where your desire is centered until you cry out. âTaste so fucking sweet âmegaâ. Logan growls as he licks your clit. You hear him moan and you open your eyes to look down at him, to see that his eyes are closed, totally blissed out as he sucks on your cunt, licking your entrance. You feel the hard tips of Loganâs fingers right at your opening, you moan when you feel two fingers parting your hot pussy, your walls instantly begin spasming around them, sucking them inside your depth.
âSo hot, baby,â Logan growls, his warm breath falling on your sensitive folds as he whispers between the kisses he is giving you right at your heated core. âIâve wanted to taste you since I could smell your sweet scent before I even got outta my car.â
You canât think straight, youâre totally blissed out and your mind is filled with alphalphabreedmatealphabreed constantly, you reckon he has triggered your heat, but you donât even realize and neither does he. His cock is stiff and swollen, you notice the center of his length has a bulge, showing that his knot is starting to form. Your cheeks begin to heat up realizing that youâre doing this to your alpha.Â
You go deeper and deeper into submission, surrendering yourself to your alpha, letting him know he can use you however he wants. Logan feels everything you feel, your bond is so strong that itâs overwhelming for the both of you.Â
He continues to tease you with his fingers for a few more seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sends a series of shivers trembling through your body. He licks across your sensitive bud leisurely, biding his time with his eyes on you to take in every single reaction you are giving him through every lick, every swirl of his tongue. He has never seen anything so beautiful. He flicks his tongue from around your clit, down to your slit, moving back and forth as he continues to plunge his fingers into you. You begin to shake as you are nearing the edge.
He must have felt it, because he continues to lick at your cunt, slick pouring out as he slurps it all up, growls deeply against your pussy. âCome for me, little mate.â
You let out a whimper at his command but feel helpless to resist him. You canât hold it in anymore as you come to your release. âAlpha!â. You moan out as you arch your back, Logan continues to milk through your orgasm and makes sure to gather every drop of cum.
Once you come down from your high, Logan pulls back and climbs up the bed kneeling right beside your head. Keeping one hand at your chin, he raises your head up as he uses the other hand to pump his cock, aiming the crown tip on your swollen lips. âGo and put your pretty mouth to use, Darlinâ,â Logan says. A drop of pre-cum leaks from the slit, making you drool at the taste, while the heady scent of his cock fills your senses as you breathe him in.
You eagerly nod, barely catching a breath from your strong orgasm, he slips his cock through your open mouth, wanting to satisfy your alpha.
Groaning, Logan reaches down and squeezes your nipple as he thrust in and out of your mouth with almost the same force he would use if he is deep inside your pussy.Â
âLove these tits of yours baby, love to see them jiggle when I fuck your tight cuntâ Logan continues to grope your tits as he dirty talks. He thrusts into your mouth hard and you moan at his words, cheeks reddened at how dirty heâs making you feel.
You suck the entire length of him each time, loving the feel of the head of his cock at the back of your throat. Using his other hand, Logan grabs onto your hair, keeping you steady as he plunges deeper inside your mouth, pummelling deep into your throat each time he reaches to the brim.
His heavy balls filled with seed, slaps against your chin, loving the sensation and feeling dirty all at the same time. You dig your nails into his thigh with one hand and into the sheets with the other, holding on tightly as your lover uses your mouth for his pleasure. âSo fucking good, baby. Always taking my fat cock so well. Look at you choking on itâ Logan rambles as he thrusts into your mouth. He groans as you suck hard. You continue to choke as his knot is forming.Â
Loganâs cock falls out of your mouth with a pop. The spasms of your climax remain. You close your eyes trying to catch your breath. You feel movement and blankets being moved on the mattress. After a few minutes, you feel a hand caress your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ears. You open your eyes to see Logan, his pupils are dilated to the point you only almost only see black. âYou okay, Honey?â Logan asked. He leans down to press soft kisses to your cheeks and down to your neck. You hum as you lean into his touch, âWant you now Loâ. you said, âplease knot me, need it so badâ.Â
Youâre a whimpering mess now, grinding your clit against Loganâs muscular thigh. Logan growls as he pulls back, he grabs a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent, and the knees with your ass and pussy on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.
His long fingers trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened cock into you and knot you full of his seed.
Loganâs eyes screwed shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste â so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.
Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Logan out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. âPlease Alpha, breed me, Iâm ready,â you say to him.Â
Logan is always less talkative during sex and now that heâs in his rut and possibly gone feral, his mind is screaming to him to knot and breed your tight cunt, to the point he canât form words.
His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow, even with your fast healing. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. Itâs fiery and red, inflamed and veins popping out alongside his length from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coat your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.
One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, feeling the familiar sensation you felt back during the war. His size is bigger, so much thicker and longer than his normal length when he is not in rut. Itâs a lot to take in at once, and heâs trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size.Â
âYou can move,â you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.
With your fists grasping for the sheets, Logan begins thrusting his hips slowly into youâ holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, barely giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.
Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit.
âCanât hold back much longer,â he bares his teeth, âneed to breed you now.â
You moan out loud âplease, please alpha, need you to fill me up with your pupsâ you continue to beg him.Â
Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his thick muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to again, even though Logan tried to avoid knotting you back then because you both didnât have enough time, there were times when he would sneak into your sleeping quarters to knot you in the middle of the night, his hand pressed against your mouth to reduce your loud moans as he thrusts his large cock into you; but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.
Logan thrusts in and out of your pussy effortlessly, your slick coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust, he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.
Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls and hitting your cervix to make a sound. A loud moan leaves your lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His sweaty hairy chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his teeth.
âTaking me so well.â
He says in his deep voice. The praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know heâs not ready to let up just yet, but youâre too on edge to hold on.
âLogan I-Iâm gonnaââ
âI can smell it,â he groans, mouth meeting your bond mark as he sucks harshly on it.Â
A string of cuss words falls from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements donât slow either â his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.
Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full-blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. âSmells so sweet, gonna breed you, Baby, have you pumped up with my pups. Gonna look so sexy with your tits filled with milk and your pregnant belly.â he rambles, the more he talks dirty the closer you get to the edge.Â
And you knew what this meant. You both finally have a chance to have children. Something you have always wanted when you first got together with Logan. Before meeting him, you never had high hopes to find a man and have a child or two. You were insecure and no one wanted a 26-year-old virgin omega. Especially since omegas were looked down upon back then.
But that time is over now, you're with the love of your life 70+ years into the future and everything you have ever wanted is here right now.
âGod, do it, Logan, please knot me,â the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, âBreed me.â
So he does.
His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his sharp teeth sink into your skin, reclaiming you once again. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, loving and hating the sensation all at once. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.
âThatâs it âmega. Doing so good for me. So perfect.â
Your heart flutters at his claim, have never felt as close to him as you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Logan binding stronger than ever and you couldnât be happier. It felt like you were floating in thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, youâre too blissed out from the shock of him reclaiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.
Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands, your body doing the job itâs supposed to; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.
âLogan,â you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, âLogan it kinda hurts.â
âShhh Itâs almost over, baby,â he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine let you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon-sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.
Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.
âWhat are you doing?â you frown slightly.
âCleaning you up,â he answers calmly, his even more heightened senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. Youâre too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his alpha side was telling him to do then so be it.
As Loganâs knot begins to subdue he doesnât let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, all red, but could see the bond mark more visible than it was before.Â
âDo you really think this will work?â you ask Logan. You donât know what you will do with yourself if you arenât able to get pregnant by this. âIt will trust me, Darlinâ. And if it doesnât, weâll try again and again until it does,â he says as he kisses your shoulder.
âYouâre so beautiful, Iâm so happy youâre mine after all these years.â
Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks handsome as ever. He welcomes your kiss like heâs been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.
It's the first time heâs seen your eyes since youâve gotten home, and even then he couldnât appreciate them as he could now. There's a different glow that he didnât notice before. Maybe it's because heâs reclaimed you and knotted you after all these years, but he is willing to do anything and everything for you.
âI love you,â you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the blackness in his eyes now faded back to the hazel color you love so much. All the years and pain heâs been through, disappeared.Â
âAnd I love that youâre mine.â
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A COLLISION OF FATE - CEO!BUCKY X ASSISTANT READER (one-shot)
warnings; swearing, minors dni
2.4k words
summary; As an assistant to the powerful CEO Bucky Barnes, youâve always kept things strictly professionalâmaybe even a little distant. But when a chaotic morning commute turns your world upside down, you find yourself relying on your boss in unexpected ways.
authors note; this is my first fic in a while so please let me know what you think!
Fuck.
You couldnât help but pull the bed sheets over your head as your alarm sounded. Youâd slept terribly, anticipation stewing in your chest all night long. A huge day at work loomed ahead. Your boss trusted you with organising a client meeting for a massive company project, and despite your meticulous preparations, anxiety gnawed at you relentlessly.
This marks your fourth month as an assistant to Mr Barnes, CEO of Barnes Industries. Your boss embodies power and leadership, standing well over six feet. He has a presence thatâs impossible to ignore, although you often find yourself trying to; avoiding his piercing gaze, shrinking away from his broad figure. He intimidated you.
Youâd learned to anticipate his needs, not just to impress him but perhaps as an attempt to keep your conversations to a minimum. Although you had managed to settle into your role, growing accustomed to your bossâ high standards, you often felt a sense of apprehension. You were overwhelmed by how important he was. Mr Barnes wasnât just your boss - he was a force of nature.
The two of you maintained a strictly professional relationship, even lingering towards slightly cold sometimes. You liked to do what he needed you to do, and then get out of his way. However, every now and then, youâd catch him watching you with a look that lingered a moment too long. Youâd always assume there was something on your face, or a smudge on your shirt, anything that might explain why he was staring. But when you checked, there was never anything there.
For Bucky, it started with the little things. He noticed how you always made sure his coffee was exactly how he liked it, down to the last detail, even on the most hectic mornings. You remembered the smallest preferences he had, the things he rarely even thought about himselfâlike the way you would quietly replace the pens in his office with the specific brand he preferred, or how you always ensured there was a bottle of his favorite water in the conference room before every meeting. These werenât just the actions of a diligent assistant; they were gestures that spoke of someone who genuinely cared, someone who paid attention to him in a way that no one else ever had.
Your snoozed alarm began to sound again, piercing your thoughts like a violent shriek. Just get through the meeting, you told yourself, before ultimately deciding to drag yourself out of bed. The thought repeated like a mantra. Is it normal to feel this worried about disappointing your boss? You thought, before swatting away the idea. You didnât need to focus on that for now.
A hot shower did little to wash away the anxiety that clinged to you. Your movements were robotic as you went through your morning routine, driven by the pressure of the meeting.
With a sigh, you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with a soft glow. 7:45 AM. It felt as though the numbers were taunting you. You ran a hand down your face, bracing yourself for the day.
Time to go.
After locking the door to your small, cozy apartment, you made your way down the narrow, communal staircase. The morning air hitting you with a welcomed bite as you stepped outside into the car park.
You slid into the drivers seat of your aging Mini, the familiar creak of the door and worn leather seat beneath you provided a familiar comfort. It wasn't much, but it was yours, the car you'd had since you were 17. You shifted into gear and gripped the steering wheel, the hum of the engine almost grounding you.
Just get through the meeting, you repeated, merging into the flow of morning traffic. You let your mind drift to the day's plans, mentally rehearsing the things you had to organise when you arrived at the office⌠calling the clients to confirm their attendance, setting up the meeting room, dropping the itinerary off at Mr Barnesâ desk.
As you approached a red light just a few blocks from the office, you felt a fleeting sense of calm. Your heartbeat, which had been a relentless drumbeat of anxiety, finally began to settle into a more regular rhythm. The office was so close, the meeting so imminent. All you had to do now was make it through the last stretch of traffic and face the day.
Without warning, a loud, violent crashing noise shattered the calm. The force of the impact threw you forward, your seatbelt straining against your body painfully. The contents of your bag spilling into the passenger seat footwell alongside the sound of crunching metal. Your mind was blank, struggling to catch up with what had just happened.
What the -?
Your heart raced, your breaths leaving in shallow and quick successions. The realisation hit you like a second wave of impact - youâd been rear-ended.
You gripped the steering wheel like a vice, catching sight of your pale face as movement caught your attention in the rear view mirror. the driver of the car behind you was already out of his vehicle, storming towards you.
Rather than waiting for you to get out the car, he began shouting at you through the closed window. âAre you fucking kidding me?â He shouted, his voice echoing violently.
He looked to be in his mid thirties, dressed in a wrinkled suit, face red with anger and eyes practically bulging out his head.
You took a deep breath, adrenaline surging through your veins. Stay calm, donât escalate. You unbuckle your seatbelt, ignoring the dull pain of where it had dug into you, stepping out your beloved car.
âDo you even know how to fucking drive?â He yelled, arms flailing. âIâm going to be late for work because of you, stupid bitchâ
You were taken aback by his blatant profanity. Humiliation rising in your body as bystanders gawked at the interaction.
You blinked, your nerves fraying under his aggression. âI was stopped at the light. You hit me,â you said, voice trembling.
âBullshit!â He spat, inching towards your face. âYou stopped like a fucking moron and now look at my fucking car!â, he pointed in the direction of his vehicle, a sleek black BMW, barely scratched.
The sight of your car, however, made your stomach turn. The bumper was shrewd across the concrete, the metal contorted dramatically. Youâd come off much worse than him. You could feel tears burning at the corners of your eyes.
âThis is all your fault!â, he spat, voice dripping with venom. âYouâre going to pay every cent for the damage youâve caused.â
Before you could respond, he lunged closer, jabbing a finger in your face. âDo you even realise how fucking pathetic you look right now? Crying because youâve ruined my car-â
The man was interrupted. A firm, authoritative voice cutting through his ramblings like steel.
âIs there a problem here?â
You looked up, your heart pounding, and there he was - Bucky Barnes. The sight of him hit you like a tidal wave. For a split second, you were frozen, breath catching in your throat.
Buckyâs sharp blue eyes were fixed on the angry driver, his expression a mask of controlled authority. Your eyes shifted between the two, noticing how Bucky towered over the man.
The manâs voice was quieter than before, his composure tense. âWho the hell are you?â
Bucky stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. âIâm her boss,â he said, his tone calm but edged with a warning. âAnd I suggest you step back before you make this any worse.â
The anger in the manâs stance faltered, replaced by a grudging recognition that he was outmatched. With a final glare towards you, he stormed back to his car.
You exhaled, realising youâd been holding your breath. âThank you,â you murmured, voice shaky from adrenaline.
Buckyâs gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening a fraction. âAre you okay?â He asked, his voice low and filled with a warmth which contrasted the icy authority he had shown moments before.
You watched the way his eyes trailed down your shaking body for any obvious signs of injury.
You nodded in response. âY-yes, Iâm okay. Just a bit shakenâ, a forced smile pursing against your lips.
He leaned down slightly, lowering himself to your height, his face inches from yours. Placing a hand on each of your shoulders. âYou donât have to put a brave face on with me. Are you really okay?â
The depth of his concern was more than you expected, combined with the gentleness of his touch, you felt like your head was spinning.
âThank you, Mr Barnesâ, your voice barely more than a whisper, âIâm okay, I promiseâ.
Buckyâs expression softened even more. âLet me take you to the office. Iâll sort you out and make sure everythingâs taken care of.â Bucky said, his voice low and earnest.
His words soothed you. He placed a firm but gentle hand on your mid-back, guiding you towards his car. The warmth of his touch was a comforting contrast to the cold air. You found solace in the protective way he guided you.
When you reached his car, Bucky opened the passenger door for you with a quiet, practiced grace. His movements were deliberate and careful, as if he wanted to ensure you felt as secure as possible.
Bucky closed the door gently and walked around to the driverâs side. As he settled into the driverâs seat, he adjusted the rear view mirror, his gaze flicking over to you. âYou donât have to call me Mr. Barnes, when itâs just us two. James will do.â
You met his gaze in the mirror, feeling a sudden rush of warmth. You faltered for a split second under the heat of his stare. âOkay, Jamesâ, you said quietly.
He gave a small, approving smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. âThatâs better,â he said, his voice low. âLetâs get you to the office.â
Your boss wouldnât let you know, but the way you trembled when that man was yelling at you, the way his words reduced you to feeling small and insignificant, made Buckyâs blood boil. His usual calm and composed demeanor was barely holding back the fury simmering beneath the surface. The sight of you being treated so harshly, so unfairly, sparked something primal in himâsomething protective and fierce.
Arriving at the office, Bucky parked with a practised ease and opened your door, offering a supportive hand as you stepped out. Eyes glazing over you again to see if you were moving with any discomfort.
As you walked into the building, you were met with a flurry of activity. Bucky led you to your room, settling you into your office chair with a soft, reassuring hand on your back.
âTake a moment to breathe,â he instructed, his voice a mix of warmth and authority. âIâll handle the meeting for now, okay? Youâve had a rough morning.â
You nodded gratefully, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Bucky made a few quick phone calls and sent some emails, managing the meeting logistics with the efficiency and competence that defined him.
Throughout the morning, Bucky periodically checked in on you. Each time, his concern was evident, his questions simple but genuine. âHow are you feeling? Do you need anything?â he would ask, always with that soft, protective tone.
By lunchtime, Bucky made sure you had something to eat. He watched with a mixture of satisfaction and relief as you ate, noting the gradual return of color to your cheeks.
As the workday wound down, you wrapped up your tasks and prepared to head home. Bucky had been a steadfast support throughout the day, ensuring that you felt taken care of and that everything went smoothly despite the morningâs chaos.
As you gathered your things, Bucky approached with a rare, genuine smile. âHow are you holding up?â
âMuch better, thanks to you,â you said, returning his smile. âI really appreciate everything today.â
âWell I would love to drive you home, but I still have a few more things to wrap up. One of my drivers will take you, okay?â, your boss said, leaning against the door frame of your office.
You opened your mouth to politely decline, feeling that he had already done enough for you today. However, you faltered when he raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his expression, you knew there was no point in arguing.
âAlright,â you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. âThank you.â
âGood,â he said, satisfied, a part of him wanted to grin at your obedience as he circled back to his office.
The ride home was quiet, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You were exhausted, but there was also a strange sense of anticipation that you couldnât quite explain.
When the car pulled up outside your apartment, you thanked the driver and stepped out. The cool evening air was refreshing after the long day, and you were eager to wash the day away with a hot shower and a bottle of wine.
But as you approached your apartment building, something caught your eye. Parked in your usual spot was a familiar-looking Mini, only this one was brand new. The gleaming paint, the spotless interiorâit was unmistakably the same make and model as your beloved old car, but this one was perfect in every way.
Thereâs no way, you thought.
Your heart pounded as you took a hesitant step closer, your mind racing to process what you were seeing. There was no mistaking itâthis was a gift, one that had been carefully chosen to replace what you had lost earlier today.
A note was tucked under the windshield wiper. With trembling hands, you pulled it free and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was unmistakable.
Youâve had a rough day. I hope this makes it a little easier. â James
A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You never expected something like this. Bucky hadnât just replaced your carâheâd chosen something that he knew would mean something to you, something that was a perfect reflection of who you were.
As you stood there, staring at the car that now felt like a symbol of so much more, you couldnât help but feel that the boundaries between you and Bucky had shifted in a way that couldnât be undone.
A collision of fate.
ââââââââââââââââââââ-
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#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#mob bucky au#bucky x assistant!reader#sebastian stan#ceo!bucky barnes#bucky fic
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đŁđŽđŹđ đĽđ˘đ¤đ đđĄđđ â đđđ˛ đđ¨đŽđŤ
gif by: @richardgrimes
pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader
summary: when you do the unthinkable, joel takes it upon himself to let out all of his anger and frustration onto you. the punishments that follow are ones that officially tear you apart and turn you into an unrecognizable girl.
warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], joel is VERY VERY VERY mean in this chapter, face slapping, hair pulling, hella manipulation, finger sucking, spanking as punishment [with his hand and belt], TW: isolation as punishment, TW: emotional abuse, joel spits on your face, oral [m receiving], TW: forced asphyxiation, joel has a very big dick ok, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia, kinda angsty ??
wc: 7.3k
notes: i felt kinda blah about this series cause i feel like i'm not making joel mean enough compared to how some writers write dark!joel (´â˘ď¸ľâ˘`) so i got really sad and put all my emotions into this chapter as a coping mechanism and made joel REALLY fucking mean and just... a horrible and nasty man. trauma ?? i think so. ENJOY. ( ËśËáËËľ )
edit: i posted this later than expected UGH. expect two updates in one day.
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By the time you awoke, the space beside you in bed was vacant. You have no recollection of drifting off in Joel's embrace. As you rise, the fluffy blanket cascades down, gathering around your hips. Joel must have draped it over you once you had succumbed to sleep. The absence of his clothes on the floor and the chill of his side of the bed leave you questioning whether he stayed the night at all, stirring a sense of unease within you. He had done something new, something that made you feel good, and he wasn't here when you woke up. Why? Why wasn't he here? Why do you feel so cold all of a sudden? Was this something normal that men do? Embarrassed by the series of events from last night, you pull on your discarded panties and shorts.
The sunrise had not yet begun. Looking out the window, the sky displayed an almost purplish tint with the sun barely cresting the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, yet the faint chirping of morning birds could be heard from their respective trees. Unsure of the time, as Joel had confiscated your phone and you lacked an alarm clock, the day's start remained ambiguous.
As you tiptoe out of your room, you notice the house is completely quiet. Joel usually wakes up before dawn, but today, a faint snore drifts from his and your mom's bedroom. Moving down the hall, you gently push the slightly open door further. In the dim blue light filtering in from outside, you can just make out Joel's form. He's sprawled on his stomach in the center of the bed, clutching his pillow while your mom's lies abandoned on the floor. Shirtless, the sheets are drawn just below the dimples of his back. The bedside clock shows 5:22 AM.
"Daddy?" you whisper faintly into the darkness, pausing for an answer. Only his soft snores, muffled by the pillow, meet your ears. Drawing nearer, you notice Joel is lying on his good ear, the other affected by partial hearing loss. The urge to rouse him is strong, yet you hesitate, knowing these moments of peaceful rest are few for him.
The rumbling of your stomach makes you whimper. Joel usually prepares meals for you when asked. Your mother, however, rarely agrees, often reminding you that you're old enough to cook for yourself. But Joel always protests, saying, "I don't want your pretty little hands to get all cut up and burned." Perhaps he wouldn't mind if you made breakfast just this once. It would be a sweet gesture to surprise him with breakfast in bed. You wonder if your mom ever did something like that for him.
"I'm going to make breakfast for us, okay, Daddy?" you whisper, a bit louder this time, your hand hovering just above his broad back. You can feel the warmth radiating onto your palm. When he doesn't respond, only emitting another snore, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, cringing when it makes a loud noise at the last moment.
Descending the stairs, a sense of unease weighs heavily in your stomach. Alone, with dark blue hues filling patches of the vacant house and shadows stretching across the walls, you almost feel an invisible presence. You find yourself wishing Joel were awake to fend off the lurking shadows. Rushing to the kitchen, you flip on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness until your eyes adjust.
Opening the fridge revealed a lackluster array of dinner leftovers, several half-empty condiment bottles, an empty milk carton, and a bag of grapes beginning to rot. It was disappointing to find nothing inspiring to cook with. A glance at the stovetop clock showed it was 5:30. The local market would open at 6, and it was only a half-hour walk away. However, the prospect of walking that distance didn't appeal to you, dramatic as it might seem. Your eyes then fell upon Joel's truck keys and wallet in the bowl on the kitchen countertop. Surely, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed them for a quick shopping trip.
Right?
By the time you returned home, it was nearly 8 o'clock. The neighborhood had fully come to life. The groceries in the truck's backseat jostled with every gentle turn. A sinking feeling emerged at the thought of Joel's anger over you borrowing his truck without asking and taking some of his twenty-dollar bills. Yet, it stemmed from a desire to do something kind for him in gratitude for his good care during your mother's absence. An excitement bubbled within you, eager to burst.
You hadn't planned to be out this long, but losing track of time and procrastinating on your tasks is a frequent issue. Joel often chides you for this, playfully urging you to get your head out of the clouds and to come back down to earth. Your only hope is that Joel remains asleep, unaware of your absence. However, the missing money from his wallet, the extra miles on his truck, and the depleted gas are sure to give you away.
As you park the truck in the driveway, you notice the porch screen is wide open, though you remember closing it before sneaking out. Your heart sinks at the sight of Joel's daunting figure in the doorway, his gaze piercing through the windshield. It's a wonder the glass doesn't crack under the weight of his stare. Your pulse quickens, a flurry of nervous butterflies takes flight in your stomach, and your palms dampen with sweat as you clutch the steering wheel tightly.
Joel points at you and then to the ground at his feet, silently mouthing, "Now." He then vanishes back into the house, clearly pissed off. Fear grips you, making it daunting to leave the truck's safety. After six agonizing minutes, you gather enough bravery to step out, your breath hitching in your throat and almost making it difficult to breathe.
After hoisting the grocery bags into your arms and nudging the back passenger door closed with your foot, likely leaving a mark on the polished metal, you make your way to the porch with unsteady steps. The door stands slightly open, and you gently push it wider. As you spin around to close it, a hand reaches over your shoulder and slams it with such force that the house seems to shake. Startled, you yelp loudly as Joel grabs your arm firmly and pulls you into the kitchen, his long strides causing you to stumble over your feet.
"Sit your fuckin' ass down," he practically barks, pulling out a kitchen chair and slams it down. He pushes you toward the chair so forcefully that the grocery bags tumble down around you. As you land on the wooden chair, the impact from Joel's shove nearly expels all the air from your lungs.
He stands over you from your seated position, towering and nearly trembling with fury. Joel's hands are clenched into tight fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He scratches his jaw and paces, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest as the intensity in his eyes burns fiercer. You close your eyes, sitting motionless, bracing yourself.
"Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND?!" He bends down to scream in your face, his face contorted in a way that makes him look scary and so different from the usual angry Joel you normally see. This Joel was drowning in rage. His eyes were nearly black and the lines on his face deepened as he snarled in your face. "You fucking ANSWER ME!" One hand grabs the back of your hair and yanks your head back so fast that your nerve spasms, a shrieking cry escaping your lips. His other hand grabs your face and squeezes your jaw so tightly that pain blossoms throughout your gums.
"Stop, stop, stop, please, stop!" You're babbling in his face, thick tears sliding down your cheeks from the intense pain in your scalp, neck, and jaw. You could barely catch a breath from how hard you're crying. "Da-Daddy, p-please!" You're grabbing on both of his forearms, nails digging deep through his long shirt, no doubt leaving indentations.
Joel only grunts lowly, his breath heavy and fast. His hands squeeze tighter, and he roughly shakes your head, loving the way your face scrunches up at the pain he's causing. Then, he forcibly pushes your head away, releasing his hands from your knotted hair and your already bruising jaw. Tears streaming down your face, you draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and hesitantly reach for the back of your head, while your other hand softly caresses your jaw. Your eyes are wide, reflecting a state of shock and fear. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his frown growing more pronounced as you quiver uncontrollably.
He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flings it towards you. It strikes your knees and tumbles to the floor, unfolding just enough to reveal its barren interior.
"You take my fuckin' truck," Joel says in a low voice, trembling with anger. He steps back, his boots thudding on the floorboards. "You take my fuckin' money." At this point, you're nearly hyperventilating, silently cursing yourself for such a foolish act and expecting him to accept it. He goes on, his tone grave, "And you sneak out without telling me, huh? What, you want more freedom than what I'm giving you here?"
The anger that Joel feels is indescribable. It's coursing through his veins like heroin, poisoning his blood and gradually taking over his body. He doesn't know what to do, or even think. All that he can do is react. How stupid of you to think this was okay. How mind-numbingly idiotic it was of him to expect you to follow his rules and obey him like a good girl. As he looks down at you like smeared shit at the bottom of his shoe, there seems to be only one option left.
Before you can react, Joel has seized your arm and pulled you up from the chair, nearly dislocating your shoulder. His footsteps are long, resounding, and forceful. Tears continue to flow as he hauls you up the stairs. You stumble on each step, crying and sobbing, while you try to keep pace with him. Your knees are banging against every edge as Joel practically drags you up the steps.
"Da-Dad-dy!" Choking on your tears, you can barely see anything. Your vision is blurry, and your hearing is muffled. Every nerve in your body is on fire. "Pl-Please, Jo-el!"
"Get up, girl! C'mon. Get your fuckin' ass up!" He grunts through labored breaths, jaw clenching tightly as he drags your body by the arm up the last step. "I've had 'nough of you."
Suddenly, he kicks your bedroom door open, your heartbreaking cries falling on deaf ears. Your body is shoved into your room with enough force to make you collapse onto the ground. You're gasping for air, your fingers slick with sweat as they frantically claw at the rug, desperate to find something to hold onto.
Joel stands motionless in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you without a trace of emotion. Thoughts flood his mind, overwhelming him like a tsunami. Make her hurt. Make her cry. Make her beg for mercy. He retrieves a key from his front pocket and observes as you pathetically curl into a ball on the floor, your shoulders shaking violently while you cry into the carpet. His hand rests on the doorknob. Before leaving, he speaks in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "Until I believe you've learned your lesson, you're going to stay here, and you're going to think about what you did."
Then, he departs and forcefully closes your door. Amidst your heavy sobs, the sound of the bedroom door lock engaging is audible. Glancing over your shoulder weakly, you notice the doorknob has been altered from before. Gone is the twist lock, replaced now by a keyed lock mechanism.
The epiphany strikes with overwhelming force. Enclosed by a door that's locked and windows sealed shut, you find yourself imprisoned with no means of escape.
Unaware of how much time has passed, you stay on the ground, curled up, emotionless. The tears have stopped, leaving behind an empty stare. The night has already set in, shrouding your room in darkness from top to bottom. Joel's footsteps are audible everywhere, hardly silent. Whenever he approaches your door, there's a halt, a moment of stillness, and then the sound of his steps resumes. Undoubtedly, he was listening with his ear against the door. Each approach brought a heaviness to your heart and a sinking sensation in your stomach.
The aroma of garlic sizzling in oil drifted from the kitchen, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to knot with hunger. You hadn't eaten since the night before. The clatter of pots and pans, either being used or stored away, brought tears to your eyes. "Stupid, stupid girl," you chide yourself. It was foolish to attempt a kind gesture for Joel, only to have it go horribly wrong. It was a rash and impetuous move. Now, he'll never forgive you for this. This realization has you weeping once more into the spit-soaked, tear-stained rug.
Engrossed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the door has come unlocked and now stands ajar, the hallway light spilling in and illuminating your huddled form. Joel pauses in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, and tuts softly at the pathetic sight before him.
"Sit up," he commands, making his way deeper into the dimly lit room. The sound of his rough voice had your entire body tensing and your quiet cries immediately halting. When you remain still, Joel becomes irritated and prods your hip forward with his muddy boot, leaving a mark on the pristine white dress you wore especially to surprise him. "I said, get your fuckin' ass up, little girl. Don't make me tell you again."
With trembling limbs, you gradually unfold yourself, grimacing as your muscles burn. Your scalp, jaw, neck, knees, and arms feel as though they are on fire. After hours of immobility and neglecting your aching body, the pain strikes you with overwhelming force.
Joel squats before you, emitting a soft grunt as his knees pop and his lower back tightens. In silence, he extends the plate of food between you both: parmesan garlic chicken, green beans, and red roasted baby potatoes. The aroma and appearance make your eyes widen, your mouth water, and your stomach rumble.
The moment your fingertips graze the plate's underside, Joel pulls it away and sets it on the ground. Your faint smile vanishes, replaced by a frown as you meet his stern gaze. He remains silent, his stare unwavering. Looking down at the plate, it dawns on you that there's not a fork, knife, or even a spoon in sight.
"Eat," he commands, his voice a quiet murmur. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes unblinking, his facial expression shifting subtly. The softness and tenderness that were once reserved for you have vanished. He never used to look at your mom the way he looked at you. But now, his gaze is identical. It leaves you feeling sorrowful and heartbroken.
Confused and very much embarrassed at not knowing what to do, you hesitantly reach out to grab the chicken with your bare hand. Joel's hand roughly clamping around your wrist and shoving it away prevents you from doing so. There was a surge of panic that shot through you like a shotgun blast.
"No," he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his scowl deepening. It's clear he's losing patience. Joel has no time for games. "Bend down⌠and eat," he commands.
There's a tense, heavy moment of silence as you thoroughly think about what he's telling you to do. Warmth spreads throughout your neck and rises to your cheeks before settling on the tips of your ears. Your heart plummets to your stomach. So, like an obedient little dog, you lower your head down to the plate on the ground and begin eating.
Joel smiles at your obedience, one hand gently petting your head and tenderly massaging the tendrils of hair connected to your scalp that he viscously yanked. He softly quiets you when you flinch and unintentionally whimper. He maintains the gentle, affectionate strokes of his hand through your hair, even gathering it into a ponytail to help you eat more comfortably.
"That's a good girl," he softly praises, settling onto his knees in front of you and using his other hand to gently stroke your jaw. "See how easy it is to obey Daddy? You just needed some of Daddy's tough lovin', huh?"
Is this what it was? Some tough love? You've never encountered that before, much less experienced it. Since you were never a problem child, discipline was seldom necessary. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to be a good girl for Joel. Maybe this tough love is what will help you do better and learn from your stupid mistakes.
As you continue eating, Joel finds himself slowly loving the sight of you eating like a fucking mutt in front of him. Knowing that he can push you so far as to do something like this excites him. His hand tightens in the makeshift ponytail he has your hair in, and his eyes darken. Letting out a whimper that was muffled from your food, you make sure to not complain about it to Joel. He was already upset with you from earlier and you really don't want to push it further.
"That's enough," he declares, his hand in your hair stopping your movements while his other hand takes your plate away, leaving half of the food untouched and uneaten. His hand pops you on the cheek when he hears you protesting, a pained yelp escaping your slobbered lips. He forces your head up to be eye level with his. "Listen to me, little girl. From this moment forward, Daddy will decide what you eat, when you eat it, and how much you can eat. Have I made myself clear?" His voice's tone is so authoritative that it holds no room for argument, not that you could muster one even if you wished to.
Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding within his grasp. Choosing not to protest was wise. Should this behavior be part of your punishment or his version of tough love, you certainly wouldn't want to witness him at full strength. Merely the thought was enough to make you shudder with fear once more. Joel was an incredibly strong man, often unaware of his own strength. He could break your jaw with one squeeze--he almost fucking did it this morning.
Joel mocks your nod. "Good," he hums, offering you a pleased smile as he lovingly strokes the apple of your cheeks. "Now, come to the bathroom so Daddy can brush your teeth."
Leaving your half-finished plate behind, you follow Joel into the hallway. You trail behind him aimlessly, your steps shaky and limping. He notices but chooses not to comment. It's for the best, a silent reminder that such consequences will recur if you act carelessly again.
Joel opens the door to the main bathroom and guides you inside with care. He lifts you with ease under your arms and sets you down on the countertop. A small squeak escapes from your chest, a sound that Joel finds adorable. He flashes a subtle grin and begins to wet your toothbrush, dabbing on the toothpaste. He shuffles between your thighs and thumbs your mouth open to start brushing your teeth. His actions brought you comfort, making you feel cherished and cared for. Even though you could have done it yourself, witnessing Joel display his nurturing side was touching. You longed to see more of this aspect of him, silently promising to be well-behaved with every passing minute.
"Alright, babydoll," he says as pats your thighs lovingly and rinses off your toothbrush after instructing you to lean over the sink and spit out the minty froth. "Now, get your butt back to your room and lean over the bed, panties off."
Joel notices the confusion spark in your eyes before it manifests in the furrowing of your brows. Your lips part to question him, but the words become stuck in your throat as his eyes darken and he gives a subtle shake of his head, tutting softly to himself.
"And here I thought you were goin' to start listening to me," he lets out a dark chuckle before invading your space with his strong chest pressing against yours. The force of the action causes your back to crash against the mirror, your head striking the glass while the sink spout presses into your lower back, causing discomfort and pain.
He bares his teeth just barely as he gets in your face, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowing, the storm brewing wildly in his eyes. Joel laughs gruffly as your eyes widen and you put your hands up in front of your body against his chest to protect yourself from his unpredictability. Oh, how cute. You were shaking under his hold like a frightened little bunny. Joel presses you harder against the mirror, no doubt forcing the sink spout deeper into your back. He grumbles pleasantly under his breath. He was causing this terrible fear clear as day on your face. The blooming bruises on your body are caused by his hands. The finger shaped bruises looked like a work of art on your delicate skin.
"Oh, babydoll," his breath fans across your face. He gives you a mocking pout, hushing you softly when the tears spill. "You're makin' it real hard not to paint that ass black and blue, you know that?"
Your bottom lip trembles and your body quivers, eyes shutting tightly as you mentally prepare yourself for Joel's next action. Tears spill and disappear underneath your aching jaw. He wipes them away at first, but when they keep sliding down, he wipes a tear-stained thumb across your lips before pushing the appendage deeper into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.
"D'you taste that?" He asks you so quietly that you almost missed it. He's looking at his thumb between your lips and bites down on his own. Joel gazes into your wide eyes, which stare back at him as if he were the boogeyman. In a way, he is. "That's the taste of fear, sweetheart. Don't it taste fuckin' delicious?" The laugh he lets out is depraved, deranged, and delirious. With his thumb still in your mouth, he uses the other fingers to wrap under your chin before using that grip to force your head to move up and down roughly. "That's what I thought. Now, I ain't going to ask you again, babydoll. Take your ass back to your room and take off your fuckin' panties. When I get back, you better be leaning over the edge or so fuckin' help me God."
The mere threat was sufficient to send you scuttling down the hallway, pushing past Joel in a rush to get to your room. He watches you do so with a sadistic smile on his face. To see you react in such a way has him so fucking hard in his jeans. He cups a hand over the thickness and squeezes. There was a brief warmth pooling in his groin, and he let out a husky moan before his hand falls away. In due time, he silently tells himself.
Shaking, stuttering breaths were muffled in the bedding. You did exactly as you were told. The tips of your toes just barely skimming the rug, you were leant over the edge of the bed with your panties pooled at your ankles. One of your hands had blindly reached across the bed to grab onto your stuffed animal to curl an arm around it and press it against your side. The only comforting thing you can have at this moment that can hopefully ease the unsettling anxiety that won't go away.
Uncertain of how much time has passed, it might have been five minutes, ten, or perhaps even an hour. You caught a fleeting sound of Joel entering the room to retrieve your plate, then he left, securing the door with a lock behind him.
Long stretches of silence enveloped you, allowing the sound of your own heartbeat to echo mercilessly in your ears. It was a fleeting moment of tranquility before Joel determined his next move. In this stillness, sleep nearly overtook you, the exhaustion from hours of weeping creeping up silently. Then, the door unlocks, knob slowly turning. The ominous creaking of your door opening has you tensing as you hold your breath.
The steady stomp of Joel's footsteps enters your room before the door is shut behind him. The sight of you in a position that he demanded from you was driving him fucking wild. Panties at your ankles and your cute ass on display, the hem of your dress stopping just at the middle of your cheeks. He can see your pussy nearly calling out for him to play with her. But he can't, not at this moment. He needs you to understand that your actions, done behind his back, were unacceptable. They were reckless and dangerousâjust the thought of it is enough to make Joel feel like punching a wall over and over.
"Now, what am I goin' to do with you, babydoll?" The question is rhetorical. He knows what he's going to do to you, but you don't. Leaving you in the dark of where his mind runs wild, keeping you pure from his deranged, perverted thoughts was for your own good. He intends to maintain a safe distance to prevent any critical harm, beyond what has already been inflicted.
The sound of Joel's voice has your hips shifting, your pussy lips just barely parted to give him a show of your exposed clit poking out from the hood that protects the exposed nerve. As he gets closer, he can see your stuffed animal in a headlock under your arm. How cute and pathetic.
"I gotta say, honey," he starts talking, his voice humorless and no longer holding that warm tone he previously had when he walked in. "It was adorable you thought I was done with you tonight. I mean, you really thought Daddy locking you up here was all that he was goin' to do?"
Unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, you still answered in a breathy voice, "Y-Yes, Daddy."
A smile makes its way onto Joel's face. "Yes, Daddy," he mocks your high pitched, breathy voice. The act of him doing so caused an embarrassed flush to warm your cheeks and ears. To be mocked made you feel so small. But that's what you are to Joel; this tiny, little thing that is so easy to crush in his big hand.
His groin rests against your ass cheeks, both of his hands lifting your dress higher until it pools around your upper back, further exposing your naked body to his eager eyes. The rough denim of his jeans and the cold metal of his zipper pressing into your backside made you hiss under your breath. Joel's hands hold onto your hips, forcing your body further onto the bed until your toes are no longer skimming above the rug, your feet now only dangling a few inches up.
"That's more like it," he grunts quietly, biting down on the plump flesh of his body limp when he sees goosebumps erupt on your soft skin. So, so fucking soft and untainted. As one hand pins you down at your lower back, his other hand gently rubs across your left ass cheek. Barely glancing at you to make sure you're prepared for what's to come, Joel mutters, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."
Then, he thwacks his palm across your skin. The force and strength of the smack made you cry out in surprise and pain. He smacks your other cheek with the same force. He does it again and again, back and forth, back and forth. Your legs kick behind you as fiery warmth blossoms along your backside. Your arm squeezes tighter around your stuffed bunny as you blindly reach a hand behind you to cover your bottom. Joel was quick to grab your wrist to pin it at your lower back.
He doesn't fucking stop spanking you. Not even when his own handprint is starting to show on your skin. He grunts with every thwack of his hand across your sensitive flesh. The cries that are forced out of you were music to his ears. Your backside feels like it's on fire underneath his wide palm; he doesn't know when to stop or ease up. The frustration and irritation from earlier were slowly making their way into Joel's mind.
"Bad." Smack. "Bad." Smack. "Fuckin'." Smack. "Girl."
Joel grunts like an animal as the smacks happen in quick succession. You're wailing into the covers, feet kicking weakly as you try so desperately to wiggle away from him. He won't stop. The pain is indescribable. It burns so badly, throbbing non-stop and feeling like a million needles are being stabbed into your skin. Your throat hurts from your pain-filled wails that are muffled into your bedding.
He's panting heavily and sweating. Wiping a forearm across his forehead, Joel removes his hands from your body, tilting one hand to the side to observe your marked ass. His handprints are on your skin, clear as day. He can feel the blazing heat radiating from your backside. But again, he's not done with you yet. And he tells you just that.
"Quit your fuckin' whinin'," he orders, both hands lowering to his thick leather belt to undo it from the hoops of his jeans. "We're not done until I say we're done." He folds the leather and snaps it together, the resounding sound causing you to cry harder in the sheets.
You learned your lesson. You know that you've been a bad girl. You know this. But the words fail to emerge, your voice and mouth unable to coordinate effectively enough to communicate with Joel. A tumult of emotions rages through your violently trembling body: fear, confusion, intense pain, and fatigue.
Folded, thick leather smacking against tender, angry skin is what forces a scream to erupt from your throat. With your bunny discarded, both hands desperately grab at your bedsheets to pull you away from Joel and his offending belt. You can faintly hear him sucking his teeth before one of his hands roughly yanks you back down by the back collar of your dress.
"Cry as much as you want to, babydoll!" he shouts through your pained wails. Then, the belt strikes across your ass repeatedly. Joel was barely giving you time to breathe through your tears and dribbling snot and drool that slides down your chin. "Kick all you want! Daddy ain't stopping!"
He lowers the position of the belt so that he can strike the back of your thighs as well. You're sure that after tonight, you won't be able to sit or speak for a very long time, for your vocal cords are nearly shattered from how hard and loud you were screaming, and Joel's hands and belt are bruising your backside. You're wishing that this torture will end. You're wishing that Joel will stop and hold you while you cry in his arms like a blubbering baby. Stop. Stop. Stop.
"Stop!" You screamed and screamed, both hands desperately reaching back to cover your backside. Everything burns. Everything feels like it's on fire. The pain only intensified when Joel tossed his belt aside and resorted to the palm of his hand again. "Please, please, stop, p-please!" Your speech now slurred and unrecognizable from thick tears, your hands claw at Joel's wrist, his hand wrapped around both of your own wrists to pin at your lower back again.
Only then does Joel snap out of it.
He's breathing so heavy that an innocent bystander would think that he was having a panic attack. Joel looks down at his creation and finally pulls his hand off of your wrists. Your arms go limp at your sides; you don't even bother trying to cover yourself. He looks at your backside, his thumb gently wiping away some blood that dotted around broken skin that was caused by his belt. He hums thoughtfully, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking your blood from the tip. In a day or two, your ass was going to be badly bruised and marked, all thanks to him.
"Such a sweet girl," he whispers, leaning down to press his nose behind your ear and inhaling deeply. Your body violently shakes underneath his chest. His groin is crushed against your horribly bruised ass, the pressure of it making you cry weakly, all the energy suddenly drained from you once he stopped abusing your ass.
Glancing down at his hard cock, now thick and pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, Joel decided now would be a good time for you to make him feel good. Though he knows you're not up for it, he doesn't fucking care. A darkness lurks within his mind, akin to an alter ego that commandeers his body, a monster in its purest form. This other facet of him is sadistic, vicious, and relentless. With you, it's so easy to fall into this second body. It's addicting. He can't stop, even if he knows this is wrong.
With a hoarse grunt, Joel grabs the back of your arms and yanks you off the bed to drop you down onto your knees. With a hand under your chin to keep your face pointed up to him, his other hand unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, along with his underwear. He pushes both offending fabrics mid-thigh, sighing with satiated relief when his cock slaps up, nearly poking you in the eye.
You could hardly pay attention. Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, swollen lips parted to inhale and exhale shakily. You were so deep in another world that Joel had to roughly shake your head to bring you back down the earth. Unsure of why you feel so dizzy, you tried focusing on the pain in your backside that was still throbbing relentlessly, the burning fire now sizzling into a numb sensation.
"Tongue out," Joel demands roughly as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand as the other holds the base of his cock to tap his leaking tip against your lips.
Hearing his order, you look up at him with tear-filled eyes and do as you're told. You don't even know what exactly you're doing, but all you can hear in your mind is be a good girl and listen to him. Your eyes almost cross as you get a better look of his cock, and they widen comically. God, Joel was really long and thick. You wondered if all men were this size. It was intimidating to look at. You don't know if even less than half could fit in your mouth, let alone inside of you. Joel observes the revelation in your eyes and drops his left into a wink.
"Careful with your teeth, baby," his voice was gruff and strained, his mushroomed tip throbbing against your lips as his heavy balls tighten from the warmth pooling intensely in his groin. "Yeah, just like that."
His praise was something that you desperately needed tonight. Forgetting about the unrelenting abuse you endured on your backside, you can make it up to him by showing you that yes, you really are a good girl, and you will listen to him and do what you're told.
When you take too long to give Joel what he wants, he decides to take charge in one way that he knows how. Both hands grab either side of your head, forcing it to stay still as he shoves half of his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sputtered sloppily around his dick, your hands frantically fisting his jeans at his thighs. He grunts and groans, sweat pooling behind his neck and sliding down the line of his back.
"Goddamn," he hissed under his breath, moving his hips forward and back to start fucking your mouth with a brutal pace that has his balls slapping against your wet chin. "Born natural, ain't ya?"
Coughing and choking around his cock, you gagged and dry heaved as his thickness fills your mouth repeatedly. Spit dribbles down your chin and slides down your chest as you bite back the bile pooling in the back of your throat. Joel's breathing stutters for a split second at the sight below him. Your lips were obscenely stretched around his girth, eyes wide and glassy with thick tears just waiting to spill over. The sloppy, wet noises coming from your mouth nearly made him bust right in your mouth.
"Let me try somethin'," Joel mumbles to himself before roughly grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head all the way down until your nose and lips were crushed against his dark public hair. The contractions of your throat squeezing around his cock has him moaning gruffly at the ceiling, his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing in time with each moan that comes out.
Taking advantage of Joel's lax state, your nails dig into the thick meat of his thighs to push yourself off of him. His cock slips from your lips, strings of spit connecting from the enlarged tip to your puffy lips. You're coughing and dry heaving, your throat burning terribly. Joel looks down and grins wolfishly.
His hand languidly strokes his soaking cock. The sight of you struggling from his size was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind so he can watch it over and over again. He liked seeing you struggle. Hell, he fucking craves to see it again. Without giving you any time to prepare, he grabs the back of your head to force you down onto his cock once more.
The sopping wet choking sounds that are emitting from your throat are driving him insane. He wonders what would happen if he just...
Both hands roughly grab your head to yank you down until his cock goes down your throat again. This time, he keeps you there for a few, long, grueling seconds. You're sputtering wildly, eyes wide with terror as tears spill over your waterline. Your fists are weakly punching at his thighs, and you try to pull your head back, but Joel only crushes your head harder into his pelvis until your nose is pressed so deep into his pubic hair.
Joel grunts like a wild beast. "Just like that. Fuckin' choke on it." He sees your lashes flutter weakly, your eyes half-lidded and rolling into the back of your head. The lack of oxygen to your brain has your heart slowing dramatically. This is your death. Yeah, this is definitely how you're going to die: choking on Joel Miller's dick, also your mom's husband.
Suddenly, your head is pulled off and you're gasping for air like it's the last thing on earth. Your head is spinning and you're doubling over until your forehead is almost touching Joel's boots. Your throat burns and you can barely feel your tongue. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This is all your fault. You deserve this punishment. Bad girl. Bad, bad, bad girl. Slowly rocking yourself back and forth, you sniffle softly and take a weak glance up at him. A shadow almost casts over your face from where you kneeled, his long cock perfectly aligned below the ceiling light.
Joel bends down to lift you higher on your knees. His big hands gently hold your cheeks, and your eyes shut as this is the first tender touch you've felt in hours. You savor this moment, sniffling again and licking your bottom lip. Joel smiles sweetly, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, nose, and then your lips. A sweet little whimper reverberates against his lips. When he pulls away, he quietly instructs you to open your eyes, babydoll.
When you do, you're met with sweet, nice, tender Joel again. Have you really made it to the end of your punishment? Are you his good girl again? Is this really it? The moment doesn't last long. The smile on Joel's face vanishes gradually slowly. There's a sick feeling that returns back inside your stomach. This is going to be never-ending. This is your well-deserved punishment. Pain, pain, pain.
When Joel purses his lips, you flinch when a wad of spit lands on across the bridge of your nose and slides down your cheeks prettily. Your eyes open and your mouth drops. This was the most demeaning thing for him to do. Spitting on your face is a clear indication that you're nothing more than a personal toy for Joel to use. This whole entire night was of him showing you what you mean to him. The thought added a crack to your heart. All you ever wanted was to be good.
Joel's fingers filthily rub his spit all over your face, a crude smile on his face as he does so. His middle and index fingers are shoved into your mouth, the pads of his fingertips covered in his slick and are now laying against your wiggly tongue. "There we go," he breathes out, gently prodding his fingers further down your throat until they brush against your uvula, causing you to gag and sputter.
You barely have enough time to react before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and landing a smack to your cheek. It almost sends you flying to the side if it weren't for his hand holding onto the other side of your face. Joel hushes you quietly when your eyes shut tightly, fire spreading across your face.
"This is for your own good, babydoll," he whispers against your forehead, pulling away to pop your cheek again, and then landing another smack to your other cheek. He shushes your pained cries again, giving you a messy, tongue-filled kiss. You can't stop crying against his mouth, snot, spit, and tears all over your face. The anguish won't diminish. It gets stronger and stronger the more Joel breaks you apart little by little.
His hands curl into your hair, tightening into fists and yanking your head back a few inches from his face. His eyes darken as he sees the fear in your beautifully broken eyes. He spits on your face once more, trailing his eyes over the artistic splatter across your nose and cheeks. His cock, still rock hard and soaking wet, hangs out of his jeans.
Joel is a patient man. In due time, you and he will finally become one. Whether you liked it or not, you were his--his to use, his to play with, his to destroy. You don't have a voice anymore. Joel Miller broke you apart with his bare hands and left you scrabbling to pick up the pieces.
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what lies beneath us. - c. san (m)
âź genre; fluff, smut, slight angst for the first half but i make it better quickly promise âź pairing; san x afab!reader âź au; established relationship, college au âź warnings; explicit smut âź rating; m/18+ âź wc; 6.4k
one busy semester is all it took for you and san to find yourselves struggling to find footing in the storm that is your relationship, yet rather than let go, he asked for one more week, one more day, one last chance to help get you back to shore
part of the ...and it's snowing collab.
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âź smut warnings; unprotected sex, oral: m, vaginal fingering, praise, body worship, service-top san, san has some slightly submissive tendencies, coming inside
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You normally wouldnât find yourself in Wooyoungâs apartment on a Tuesday morning, sitting at the bar counter beside his roommate with two mugs of coffee sitting on the granite between you, but you also havenât had any leisure time to waste lately. Itâs a miracle that Wooyoung is even up before ten oâclock, though that might be in part due to you pleading desperately over the phone to come over.
âOh, you make her coffee but not me? The fuck is up with that, Hwa?â Speak of the devil, Wooyoung comes into the kitchen still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
âSheâs a guest, you live here. And I had to wake you up because you slept through three alarms so my sympathy levels are close to zero right now.â Seonghwa flashes a faux shrug despite the heated glare heâs sent. Wooyoung lets out a huff but lets it go in favor of redirecting his attention to you.
âRight, well, what did you need to talk about so badly that it couldnât wait until the afternoon?â
âSan is coming over tonight, I couldn't do the afternoon,â you mumble.
âIs it about him then? Did somethingââ he waves a hand through the air like thatâll explain his thoughts, and when confusion shows on both your face and Seonghwaâs, he gives up ââdid something happen between you guys?â
âIt feels a bit awkward,â you admit over the rim of your coffee mug. Wooyoung scoffs at that, but Seonghwa is far more forgiving than your best friend in that he sends you a sympathetic grin.Â
âAwkward?â he prompts, toying with his own drink. Wooyoung pushes away from the counter and turns to the coffee maker.
âI don't know. Yeah, awkward, a bit. I guess. Like we don't know what we're doing or how to be in a relationship anymore.â
The brutal semester you both just suffered has been the main factor in the wedge in your relationship. Weekends full of studying, ones that you spent together at the start of the semester when he would come to your place or vice versa so that you could be together even while working. Then, San started picking up more shifts at his part-time job, and you had to redirect your focus to a particularly important internship that required you to forgo those weekends in the blink of an eye. You did have two weekends free of school and work, but San had to rush home during one of those on account of his mother falling ill. The other one was shot by you falling ill with the worst cold youâve known in all your years of living. San came by that Friday with your favorite chicken and beer, but you couldnât bring yourself to risk getting him sick when you knew how important the semester was to him too. It didnât keep him from coming by again Saturday and Sunday both, soup was delivered to your front door along with voice messages wishing you well throughout the night. Even your text conversations were fizzling into oblivion by the time finals rolled around, which only served to amplify your feelings of dread.Â
âHas he been acting differently?â Wooyoung tunes back into the conversation, this time more serious with his tone. âLike, he's pulling away or something?â Wooyoung stands on a different footing in this conversation and knows things Seonghwa doesn't in terms of your relationship with San. He's been there for you since well before you started dating San, and you're certain that he'll be there for you if it were to end tomorrow, the next day, or years down the line.Â
âIt's gonna sound so childish and stupid but he hasn't been calling me nicknames since the semester ended.â You tuck your hands into your lap and shrink into yourself a little, feeling the hot burn of shame well up inside.
âThat's not stupid at all, y/n,â Seonghwa reassures barely a second after you finish your train of thought. âThat's not.â
âHe's right. That's totally unlike San.â
âNot! Helping!â
âI'm just being honest?!â
âLook, y/n, I don't want you to start having doom thoughts or thinking the worst â that doesn't mean his feelings for you have changed.â Youâre starting to think that you shouldâve asked Seonghwa for advice from the start instead of Wooyoung. âMaybe he's feeling that awkwardness you are too, or maybe he's feeling insecure. The only way to know is to ask. Have an open and honest conversation about it.â
âButâŚâ You glance past Seonghwa to look at Wooyoung's back. Without even needing to look back, he seems to feel the weight of your stare.
âYou're scared that if you bring it up, the worst will happen and y'all will break up.â
âWe've been dating for so long that I don't know what I would do if that happened. I don't know how to be single, no offense to either of you, but it's just that we've been together for so long now. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if it ended.â
âIfâŚâ Wooyoung bites his words back as though he's unsure of how they will come out. âI don't want this to sound harsh, but if all it takes for him to lose his feelings for you is one busy semester, then that's not someone I would want you to have a future with. I know it's not up to me and it's not my business, but I want you to value yourself more than you value your relationship with San.â
âI truly don't think he's lost his feelings for you, y/n,â Seonghwa cuts in again, hand darting out across the counter in your direction. âWoo is right; you should value yourself more than the relationship you're in, but that doesn't mean you can only have one of those things. They can coexist.â
âWhat if Iâm fighting for something he doesnât want any longer?â you inquire softly and under your breath.
âThe spark isnât gone, y/n, Iâm certain of that much. Maybe you just⌠need to find a way to reignite it!â The coffee maker dings loudly behind Wooyoung. And like itâs turning on a lightbulb in Wooyoungâs head, his expression turns suddenly bright. âWhy not do just that? Itâs been half a decade, to be fair, so really you canât be blamed if things feel a little stale. If you went and did things that made you fall for each other in the first place, wouldnât that help a bit?â
âI hate to say itâŚâ
âYou always say that when Iâm right!â
âIgnoring him, that does sound like a good plan, y/n.â
Despite the reassurance from both your best friend and someone you consider to be far more mature and wiser, it doesnât fully quell the concerns settling in your gut.
Itâs only been six days since you last saw San, though you would argue that it feels a lot more like six months given how absent you both have been from each otherâs lives of late. While that isnât particularly your fault or his wholly â itâs definitely a joint effort thatâs kept you apart â it does make your skin itch with anxiety every time you think about seeing him again.
Itâs all culminated into this moment right now, where you sit on the edge of your couch waiting for the doorbell to ring and announce his arrival. You want to see him, desperately so, youâve missed him so incredibly much that you can hardly stand it. And yet â youâre rooted to the cushions riddled by anxieties. You tried to rid yourself of the lingering stress after leaving Wooyoungâs apartment by doing chores properly for the first time in months, going so far as to run to the grocery and restock some necessities as well. You hate to be the type of partner who cannot do anything alone without associating it with your partner, but San was on your mind throughout the day.
Will he feel the same as you even though the flame keeping your relationship alive has been inching closer and closer to nothingness? The two of you donât fight, in fact, your friends like to say that things go a little too smoothly between you two, and while thatâs true, they arenât aware of what it looks like when you and San arenât getting along. It looks the way this semester has, slow conversations that lead nowhere and less time spent in each otherâs presence. You arenât fighting right now, but you certainly arenât all sunshine and rainbows. The weather mirrors your emotions â dim greys shrouded by white flurries of snow that have been falling since early afternoon.
You clench your fingers around the seam of the couch cushion. No part of you wants to play the part of the overbearing partner: if youâre too eager to see him, wouldnât he find it off-putting?Â
The doorbell rings.
It takes a moment for you to brace yourself for impact, standing and walking over to the door as slowly as you can manage without it seeming like a deliberate delay. The second you open the door, however, your worries melt away for a moment.Â
San smiles so brightly like youâve not gone a second without reveling in each otherâs presence. The weather is clinging to his coat still even though he had to climb three flights of stairs to reach your door. The little snowflakes are beginning to melt into the fabric.
âMay I come in?â The facade cracks a bit. Itâs not like him to ask such things, but you choose not to hold it against him now.
âYeah, yeah, I finally had time to clean the other day so everythingâs â nice.âÂ
If your smile is strained, he says nothing about it, stepping over the threshold and into your apartment like itâs the first time heâs ever done so. Heâs polite all the time, but now it makes those seeds of doubt sprout further because youâve been together for five years now, what reason does he have to act like a stranger in your home? A home heâs been in time and time again, one heâs slept in, fucked youâÂ
âDo you want ramen or pizza?â You force the thoughts to come to a halt before your expression turns bitter.
âLetâs do ramen, Iâll cut up the vegetables for you.â
Thereâs an elephant in the room that it seems neither of you wants to address, and so you keep your mouth shut just the same as San with the thought of âmaybe this awkwardness will pass after tonightâ. You watch him remove his coat and hang it up on the door while still picking at your nails. He extends a hand to you, one you take eagerly, and you lace your fingers through the gaps between his. A bit like a well-oiled machine, you think, something that Wooyoung had noted about the two of you as far back as freshman year of college. San presses his lips to the top of your head. You lean into the touch ever so slightly.Â
You share in a quiet synergy that carries you through the motions of preparing food, with no conversation exchanged aside from a âwatch for the knifeâ and âcareful, behind youâ on occasion. Youâre still trying to psyche yourself up to bring up whatâs truly on your mind, so you arenât sure that youâd be able to get any conversation out without it spiraling into insanity right off the bat. For the moment, for now, you want to simply drink in Sanâs presence.Â
He hums as he opens a cabinet in search of bowls, but they arenât there.Â
âOh, IâI moved the bowls to the other side.â Three months ago, your mind adds. It would do nothing but add salt to a blossoming wound. San stops dead in his tracks too. He seems to suffer the same crisis that you do right then. After a few seconds of mental buffering, he resumes his humming and shifts to the adjacent cabinet like the moment didnât happen at all.Â
You sit beside each other at the bar counter, atop the uncomfortable stools youâve had for well over two years now, but it offers a weird comfort because itâs familiar, itâs something San knows, itâs something you share and have shared for years.Â
âThanks for the meal,â San says, still wearing a bitten-back smile.Â
âOf course. Thank you for helping.â But the detrimental reality of not speaking to someone properly for a long while is that part of you forgets how to make conversation with them. There is nothing for you and San to âcatch up onâ seeing as youâve been keeping each other updated on your lives through dry text conversations. âUmâŚâ Heâs eyeing you carefully now, and you could pass off the watering in your eyes as the spice of the food, but he would call your bluff in an instant. The funny thing about doubt is that once itâs taken root, itâll keep growing back no matter how many times you chop at the stem.
âWhatâs wrong, y/n?â
âItâs just â I donât â are we breaking up?â
San freezes halfway over his ramen, chopsticks nearly falling from his fingers as he rushes to put his noodles back down. Your shoulders start shaking before you can stop it. He doesnât stop you from turning away from him, but San has always been endlessly patient and gentle with you so you donât expect him to ask you to look at him anyway. He does rest a hand atop your forearm though, and his thumb drags small, comforting circles over your skin.Â
âTalk to me, y/n, what do you mean by that? Why would we be breaking up?â The words themselves sound calm. Thereâs a slight quiver to his tone, however, that makes you want to crawl inside yourself and disappear. âA-Are you wanting that?â Your continued lack of response makes San more urgent than ever, and he shifts his hand to your leg, spinning you to face him. You canât be certain of the expression on your face (though youâd wager there is some degree of hurt); whatever San sees makes him let out a distressed noise from the back of his throat. âCome here, duck, talk to me.â
Standing on somewhat shaky legs, you push yourself closer to San, and he instinctually moves his knees apart to let you tuck yourself into the space there.
âDonât cry, baby, Iâm here, you can talk to me,â he murmurs, hands cupping your face in his hands. You reach down to cling to his shirt like itâs a lifeline.Â
âThatâs the first time youâve called me that in weeks. This is the first time weâve spent time together in six days. Weâve barely spoken or spent time together all semester, and I know why â I know we agreed that school and work have to come first. I know that.â Your voice drops to a whisper as you lose the confidence to speak. âI didnât think it would mean losing you though.â
âYou havenât lost me, y/n. Iâm still here, with you, loving you just as much as ever.â San smiles a little as you push your cheek further into his palm. âMy feelings have not changed. I thought about you every day, wondered how you were doing, and if you responded to my texts late, I hoped you were eating well and getting enough rest. I listened to your voice memos rooting for me every night. Your face was always the first thing I saw in the morning because I still keep that slideshow of you as my lockscreen.â Reaching around to the back of your neck, he gives you a little tug, and your foreheads bump together. âThe thought of you helped get me through the semester because I knew that it was you who was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel.â
âSannieâŚâ
âHow long have you been worried over this, baby? You shouldâve come to me the moment you started having doubts. I wouldnât have let this go on if I had known.â
âI thought I felt you pulling away so I was scared to bring it up. You werenât calling me nicknames anymore, and I started reading into it too much and freaked myself out.â
âIâm so sorry, y/n. Donât put the blame on yourself, itâs not a crime to have anxieties. I didnât even realize I stopped using them. I suppose I just got swept up in my own feelings and wanted to call you by your name as much as possible.â He nudges you with his head again. âBecause I missed you so dearly.â Your lips turn up at the corners, a gesture that doesnât go unnoticed by your boyfriend. âAnd because I adore you so so much, my y/n.â
âStop that.â You hope he doesnât, truly.
âBut Iâm so mushy and full of love for you, y/n.â
âYouâre gonna make me blush.â
âOh, I can think of other ways to do that, baby.â San stands, subsequently pushing his body into yours, but your hands are still on each other, his moving down to caress the back of your thigh before he hooks his fingers around the bend of your knee and hoists your leg up over his hip. âI havenât been good to you, my sweet,â he murmurs close to your lips. âWhat kind of boyfriend am I if I let you feel unwanted?â Your heart skips a beat as he grips tight at your other leg, then youâre suddenly weightless for a second as he hoists you up to his waist.
âWe just ateââ
âI donât plan on letting that stop me.â You let out a gasp as San traces the line of your jaw with his lips, hot breath spilling across your skin as he carries you from the kitchen. âUnless you want it to?â This damned man knows what heâs doing, he knows the hold he has over you â your brain is already turning into a foggy mess of want, and even the prospect of waiting two minutes for him to lay his hands on you is too much to bear. Your nails drag across his shoulders, tugging at the thin material. He misses the doorknob to your bedroom thanks to your antics, sending you against the wood a little harshly and forcing the air out of your lungs. âSorry, sorry.â
âStill on the pill.â
âHm?â he echoes, managing to turn it right on the second try and popping it open properly.
âIâm still on the pill,â you repeat. San freezes in place to stare at your face. You bring a hand around to toy at his parted lips with your thumb. âSo you can fuck me raw.â
San becomes so dumbstruck that his jaw moves up and down over and over without any semblance of noise coming out.
âFuck, youâre gonna make me come in my pants like a horny teenager,â he says under his breath. You drop your head back and laugh. Sanâs hold on you feels so blissfully warm. You didnât even have time for this during the semester, sometimes thanks to your workloads but more often thanks to sheer exhaustion. A few solo jaunts before bed are hardly enough to please you the way San does. Based on how tightly heâs gripping your ass, he seems to feel exactly the same.
âIt wouldnât be the first time.â
He manages to get you both to the bed without further incident, laying you down on the mattress with a sort of reverence that makes your chest swell with emotion. Even through the barrier of clothing, his fingers are hot and sear a path from your hips up your waist then right back down again as San wastes no time in stripping you of your pants.Â
âI missed you so fucking much itâs insane.â You want to respond, but the sight of your lover dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed stops you in your tracks. All you can do is lie there and watch him tug your pants off, lips moving to kiss each bit of exposed skin along the way. Goosebumps rise across your body when he kisses his way up higher. His broad frame cages you in the closer he gets to your face, and despite his hands being on the somewhat small side, they feel all-encompassing when theyâre sneaking under your shirt and exploring the skin beneath.
âI missed you more,â you murmur, catching his chin between your fingers and angling his face upwards so you can properly look at him. âI love you so so much, San. More than I can put into words.â
âYeah?â You make no effort to pull him higher although he moves as though you do and climbs all the way up to be right over your face. He hums before dipping down to kiss the corner of your mouth. âI think Iâve missed you more still thoughââ another kiss, this time to the opposite side of your mouth ââbut youâre welcome to challenge me on that.â
âSan,â you whine. He pulls back and sits back on his knees. Your brain goes totally blank watching him take his shirt off. Itâs something youâve seen time and time again, truly nothing new or foreign to you, but something about it now makes your gut twist in on itself. Heâs lost a bit of the muscle youâve grown accustomed to seeing on him, now softer around the edges, at the waist and across his stomach. It doesnât curb your desire for him in the slightest; if anything it makes you want him more, to cling to him tighter and feel him firmer against you.
He throws the shirt down to the floor and drags a hand through his dark hair. His legs are splayed around yours, putting the prominent bulge in his pants on full display before you.
âI want you to use me, y/n.â He grabs your hand from where itâs resting against the bed and brings it to his chest. You dig your nail into his flesh like itâs second nature to do so. âTonight, for your pleasure.â His eyes trail after your every moment, watching as you sit up and pull your legs out from under him. You graze the underside of his dick ever so slightly yet itâs still enough to make his lashes flutter.Â
âThenâŚâ San is like putty in your hands, conforming to every move you make while still maintaining that unbreaking eye contact. He turns with you, and you climb off the bed to stand despite feeling seconds away from toppling over. All it takes is the slightest push against his chest for him to lie flat on his back. âWill you be good for me?âÂ
His response comes in the form of a bitten-back whine thanks to you cupping the bulge of his cock as you withdraw your hand. Itâs intoxicating to strip him of his jeans and feel every inch of his pretty tapered waist. You urge him to move further up on the bed, making room for you between his legs once youâve tossed his pants down beside yours on the floor. The tip of his cock peeks out the top of his underwear, already stiff and leaking precum onto the elastic band. Saucy nudes here and there donât do him nearly enough justice, you think. You tease just the bit of him that's exposed with your tongue, licking at the sensitive and swollen head, and he twitches beneath the fabric. Humming to yourself, you inch his underwear down just far enough to put his whole member on display, along with his balls, but you donât go any further than that. Itâs enough for you to get your mouth around him, after all, and thatâs exactly what you do without giving San any time to brace himself for the touch.
He lets out a desperate moan the moment your wet heat envelopes his length, fingers curling into his palms around the comforter. His hips twitch with the desire to thrust upwards, but he keeps himself firmly planted on the bed, fulfilling his end of the bargain for you and being so delightfully good. The weight of him on your tongue isnât nearly enough; you want him buried deep inside you as soon as possible, and youâd go on and do it now if you didnât think it would hurt like a bitch given how long itâs been since youâve taken him. San isnât distracted enough to miss the way you retract a hand to touch yourself, and he fights to speak through broken moans.
âI w-wanna touch you, pretty.â You lift yourself off his cock until just the tip sits on your lower lip.
âIâll let you later when I ask you to fold me in half and fuck me into the mattress.â You sink two fingers into your hole, taking San back into your mouth to revel in that full feeling again. Youâre just as needy as he is, in reality, because your walls are already coated with arousal and it pools around the base of your fingers in such a way that it makes your cheeks flush. Sanâs noises arenât helping in the slightest â for as quiet as he is in day-to-day life, he is ever so vocal when it comes to sex, especially when his cock is buried in your mouth. Heâs just long enough to push right into the back of your throat, making it far easier for you to take him fully.Â
âYour mouth feels so â fuck, fucking good, baby.â If you werenât preoccupied, you would love to return his words with your own, so you settle for tugging at his balls a little. It earns you a delightful little yelp, and his hips buck up to drive his dick further into your throat than expected. âHngh, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â
âI wantââ you donât finish your train of thought, too rushed to bother with it as you scramble to rid yourself of your underwear. San greets you with his hands when you climb back onto the bed and grabs hold of your waist. He tugs and pulls at your shirt until itâs gone too, leaving you with nothing more than your plain black bra. However, even that San seems to find issue with, because he toys with the clasp until it comes loose and throws that aside too.
âBeautiful,â he murmurs, settling back against the mattress. Heâs always told you this is his favorite position, to see you straddling his hips and bouncing on his cock, though he favors missionary quite a bit as well because it lets him see your body and face while heâs fucking you (despite how much he loves your ass). His cock is trapped between your pussy and his stomach now, hard and throbbing for the same kind of stimulation you so desperately crave. You drag your folds along his length a few times just to tease San, but he grips your hip in warning. In hindsight, you should have let him finger you open more before because the stretch is far more than you remember â not enough to hurt, but enough for you to really feel every inch of him entering your body. It makes you writhe atop him, your spine arches, and you drop your head back. San holds you like you're a precious gem, thick arms circling around your waist as you rest your hands on his chest. The position gives you some much-needed stability, but San's fingers have begun to get severely distracting. He rolls his thumbs into your skin, pausing only to squeeze and pinch at the more sensitive parts of your sides.Â
âIâm gonna start moving,â you whisper like being too loud will break some sort of seal. San nods and unwraps his arms enough to simply hold your hips. Despite the decrease in definition of his muscles, his strength doesnât seem to have gone anywhere, because he lifts you with such ease that itâs a bit dizzying. Still, he lets the control rest in your hands. You sink down slowly on his cock, letting your walls get used to the drag, before doing the same motion two, three more times. The first whimper to fall from your lips is what snaps your resolve. Sanâs hold on you remains firm but only to ease the strain on your thighs as you begin to pick up your pace.Â
âBeautiful, beautiful, youâre so beautiful, my sweet.â San rolls his hips up in time with your movements, driving his cock up into your cunt as you drop yourself onto him, and it reaches so deep inside you that you see stars behind your eyelids. âMissed you so much, missed this, seeing your body through photos wasnât enough â fuck, it wasnât enough.â
âHow many, ah, times did you come to those photos, hm?â You crack one eye open to watch Sanâs face. Heâs already flushed with want, but the red in his cheeks deepens more upon hearing your question. You lean your weight further into your hands. âI fingered myself so many times thinking of you, Sannie. B-But, hngh, it wasnât good enough. Not as good as your cock. Nothing⌠n-nothing feels as good!â
San thrusts up with more vigor now, all but taking over for you to go slack above him as he drives your hips down with his hands and pushes his length into you from the opposite direction. Then, suddenly, his movements falter and stutter to a halt, and he looks just as shocked as you are when his cock twitches against your walls. A blooming of warmth fills you right after, along with the realization that San has just come inside you without warning.
âI-Iâm sorry, I â I didnât mean to, ah, I thought I would last longer.â He slings an arm up over his eyes, and the red in his face deepens in hue. âIâm sorry, I shouldâve let you come first.â You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Leaning down over him, you peel his arm away from his face so that you can see his shamed expression better.
âYour dick is far from the only thing that can make me come, babe. Right?âÂ
He nods a few times, but thereâs still a pout on his lips. You kiss it away.Â
âThenââ you detach yourself from his body, bringing about an unwelcome emptiness as his spent cock slips out of you, and roll onto your back beside him. He watches with rapt attention as you spread your legs and open your pussy to him. âWhy donât you?â
San moves with surprising haste for a man who has just come, rolling into the space between your legs, and while you expected him to just use his fingers to get you off, he hooks his hands around your thighs and shoves his face into your used cunt instead. It yanks a startled moan out of you, and itâs only amplified when he closes his lips around your clit. Heâs lucky you donât give him a concussion with how quickly you slam your thighs around his head. You donât notice that heâs moved a hand until fingers are prodding at your leaking entrance and urging the come he just pumped into you back into your hole.
âO-Oh, San.âÂ
Normally, he takes his sweet time eating you out, bringing you to the precipice of orgasm before sending you right back down time and time again without release. Though, either out of lingering shame at coming early or simply out of a desire to make you unravel, San laps at your clit so eagerly that it sends shudders through you. You can feel your blood rushing lower as he urges you to come, walls clenching around his fingers. It only takes another second more for the first wave to hit you, and it makes you scramble to grab hold of Sanâs hair as he keeps curling his fingers over your sweet spot. He does so throughout each wave of your orgasm until tears burn the corners of your eyes and youâre all but pleading for him to grant you some mercy.
âYou â you had nothing to prove, you know,â you say between desperate attempts to catch your breath. San giggles and looks up at you from his lewd position. âUgh!â You shove his head away from you half-heartedly just to spare yourself more embarrassment.
âOh, come on, donât be like that, duck!â
You only go as far as the pillows, turning back to him immediately and opening your arms to welcome him into them.Â
âI came too early, of course I had something to prove,â he adds once heâs snugly placed against your chest. You slot together like two pieces of a puzzle, his head under your chin and your breath stirring the messy strands of hair in your path. âIâve fallen out of practice. When was the last time I did that? Itâs embarrassingâŚâ
You canât contain your laughter.
âYou always come a little early when I ride you.â
âThatâs not fair!â
All you can do to soothe him is pat his head. You feel a tad sticky and gross all over, but Sanâs warmth more than makes up for it, and if youâre not careful, youâre certain youâll fall asleep within minutes. A small sniffle coming from the man atop you chases thoughts of rest away in the blink of an eye though.
âSan?â
ââm okay, promise.â
âYouâre crying, baby, thatâs not âokayâ.â
âI just,â he inhales and licks over his lips, skating across your sternum in the process. âI wasnât sure I was gonna stay afloat without you.â You comb your fingers through his hair.
âTell me when you need me and Iâll be there. Always.â
âI didnât want to disrupt your schedule and get in the way.â
âYou have to trust that Iâll take care of myself and my responsibilities even if I help you too. You always tell me that when I worry over the same things. It goes both ways, San, okay?â
âOkay.â He nods against you. âOkay, Iâll try to remember that. As long as you donât lock yourself away when things get tough. Rely on me if you need strength. And talk to me when something is on your mind.â
âAlright, we have an agreement.â Out of nowhere, you remember Wooyoungâs suggestion from this morning. Picking at a stray piece of Sanâs hair, you mull over your thoughts some more. You could let things settle as they are now since things seem to be back to a pleasant state of balance. But even so, would it do any harm to try anyway? âIâd like to go on a first date again. With you. I want us to go on a first date again.â
âHm?â
âLike⌠I want us to go out like itâs the first time all over again. And feel that excitement and giddiness we had back then. We donât have to, itâs just a thought. I donât know. Maybe itâd be a good thing after this semester.â
Silence overtakes the room. Sanâs breathing is so steady that you think heâs fallen asleep, but the second you try to shift and see his face, he tilts his head up and looks into your eyes.
âAlright. Letâs go on a first date again.â
��
âI figured weâd go to that little Thai place by the grocery before heading over to the Christmas light show?â
âOh!â Your thoughts rearrange themselves around his words. âThat sounds really nice, yeah.â
âThe guys wanna meet up at Wooyoungâs after for chicken and beer, but I told them Iâd leave the decision up to you.â He tilts his chin a bit to the side as he speaks, lips quirked up at the corners, and you find yourself so incredibly fond of him all over again.
âLetâs see how we feel after walking around.â
You offer to drive tonight, but he denies you quickly, whining about how he filled his tank full of gas just for tonight so you donât push the matter any further than that (though, you still tease him a bit once he opens the passenger door for you). When he turns the car on, music starts blasting through the speakers, a song you recognize well, and the dash shows that heâs been listening to the playlist you made for him at the start of the last school year.Â
âSorry, forgot the volume was up so high.â He scrambles to twist the dial down, but you stop him with your hand, gripping his wrist lightly and giving a firm shake of your head.
âI didnât realize you still listened to it. Normally you just have the radio going.â
âAh, well,â Sanâs cheeks are a bit flush under the low lights of the car, âI suppose Iâve been feeling a bit sentimental these days.â His next move is a bit hesitant; he reaches across the console and lays his hand atop your thigh. You reassure him by putting your hand over his, fingers curling around his once again. It feels normal and familiar, though you canât count on two hands the last time youâve done something as menial as holding hands with San.Â
âSan?â He makes a noise of acknowledgment while watching the road. âIâve missed you.â His nails dig into your flesh a little, and the pressure makes your heart clench in your chest.
âIâve missed you more.â You can only see his side profile, but itâs enough for you to catch the upturn of his lips.Â
âIâve missed you most then.â The statement slips out through a pout.Â
âAnd I love you more than the moon loves the ocean.â
The weight of his hand is comfort enough for you to be at ease for the rest of the drive.
ââââââââââââ
please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!
this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.
#ateez smut#ateez x reader#san smut#san x reader#choi san smut#choi san x reader#ateez fic#ateez fanfic#ateez imagine#ateez imagines#ateez ff#san imagine#san imagines#caly.writes#fic; and it's snowing#winter fic fest 2023#fic; what lies beneath us
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We are meant to be. | b.e
summary: the truth, this comforts or scares you? perhaps sheâs not the only one with dark secrets.
warnings: soft smut, suspense, plot, !toxic billie, !dom billie, !sub reader, graphic scenes, a lot of violence in general.
read part one here!
â 3:32am, in your shared apartament, LA.
âunknown number, 2 new messagesâ
what the actual fuck? you thought to yourself.. who could be texting you at 3 am?? as soon as you open the messages, your heart start beating fast.
she knew damn well what she was doing to you, but you decided to not give in so easily. you couldnât just handle yourself to her after all that you did⌠it wouldnt be fair with all the sacrifices you did just for her. she wanted to play that game, but she didnât even expected you to be ahead of her. you turned your phone off and tried to sleep, but how could you sleep if shes on your mind? her touch, her kisses, her gasps for air⌠god that was still pretty fresh in your memory.
she always been on your fucking mind.
but your blood was still boiling⌠and the reason had an name, Julie. she was that desperate to get attention that she almost jumped on billie knowing damn well that you had a crush on her? that was just too fucked up, and youâd make sure she knew that.
â the next day, 12am, LA.
You started hearing some noises coming from the kitchen, and a good smell of fresh breakfast.. you woke up in an baggy tee and just panties, going to check if julie was doing anything for the both of you.
As youâre going down the stairs, you start to notice there a few things are off⌠you can hear julie giggling uncontrollably, perhaps she invited some guy she was fucking to our apartment? you didnât knew. As you peeked to look at the kitchen, you saw billie standing there, absolutely nonchalant while your friend was almost begging for her to gave her attention, to fuck her, or anything that the basic shallow girl wanted.
âbillie? wtf are you doing here?â you say almost smirking.. you knew damn well what she was up to, you knew all this time. they both look at you, billie opening an side smirk a the moment she saw you only in a tee. julie was clearly getting pissed at this, she was trying so hard, and you got billieâs attention without even trying to.
âgood morning princessâŚâ she says playing dumb and ignoring the question as her smirk turns into an smile as she looked at you up and down.
âi asked you something, and how do you know where i live?â you said forcing an confused face as she smirked more at you.
âjulie texted me, and i asked for your address, so she gave it to me.â she says, in a teasing tone. she was clearly trying to mess with you.
âwhy would you do that?â you say as julie just stay sitting in the balcony chair and stares at the both of you clearly uncomfortable for not being the center of attention.
âyou didnât replied to me properly when i asked you to come over to my place, remember? so i had to take another way honeyâŚâ she says getting closer to you, as you both forgot julies existence.. she start speaking.
âdid you invite her to come over to your placeâŚ? you clearly forgot to tell me that.â she feels excluded and used as she takes her purse, walking towards the door, slamming it as she gets out of the apartment.
you were about to talk something, as you both hear an alarm coming from the tv, it was breaking news from LA.
âthere was two bodies found in los angeles this morning.â until that part it was ânormalâ for LA⌠but as the presenter continues to speak, you two were left with your mouths wide open.
âone of them known as frank enastacio, a 67 old famous actor, recently envolved with multiples scandals evolving the s.aâs of minors. and the other was an young girl, mostly known by âdrewâ or just the ex best friend of the world famous popstar billie eilish.â
we were both staring at the news, thinking about drew and that random guy. until a picture of him appears on the screen, and you quickly recognized him.
âcome on, do you know who i am, darling? i could make all your wishes come true.â
you could remember vividly her gross and suggestive tone, trying to get his hands all over you, trying to manipulate you, but he couldnât do that. billie stopped him, she protected you, âyouâd still wonder how she knew the exact moment that he would try somethingâŚâ that was an fucking lie, you knew damn well how she knew that.
you thought of it.
you smirked.
as billie stared at the screen not believing that her childhood best friend was actually dead.. you wrapped your arms around her as she cried on your shoulder. burying her face on your chest⌠they werenât close anymore, but sheâd still in shock. the presenter continuesâŚ
âtheres been an alarming increase in the violent homicide rate, the police states that it couldnât be just one serial killer, but two of them. the circumstances and particularities of the murders are different.â billie start staring at the tv, watching it carefully to not miss anything.
âtheres the most violent one, weâve been speculating that this one only murdered young girls.. the list goes on odessa zion, found last week buried on the woods, quenlin blackwell found on the same grave as odessa, amelia dimoldenberg, found on a lake.. and lastly, drew starkley, found on a shallow grave a few cities away of the big los angeles.â
That broke her down, everyone knew that odessa and queen were billieâs best friends⌠odessa was more, she was the girl that billie thought she would marry. they never dated, but everyone knew that billie fucking loved her.
âthe most âchillâ one murders murders only men, usually older and unknown men. the list of nameâs wasnt published because mostly this men werenât public figures, just one of them was known, frank enastacio.â
that was getting fucking interesting.
â 2 weeks later, 8pm, in billieâs bedroom.
âbabe i donât have anything to wear today.. i canât go meet ur friends looking like im homeless.â you said with a pount face as she grabbed your chin giggling and giving a little kiss on your mouth.
âlook at the closet babe..â she says smirking as she put on her tie.
You just rushed into her big closet finding an big black dress with an little bag on the side.. you opened the bag and found a lacy black lingerie, hearing her voice behind you.
âyouâre going to use this tonight.â she says as she clicks on a little bottom on her phone and the underwear start vibrating. âjust to let you know.â she smirked looking at you up and down.
âyouâre evil..â you strip in front of her, putting only the lingerie on, after that you turn around and get closer to her.. âturn it on.â you say in a demanding tone as she smirks back at you.
âas you wish.â she turns it on, putting it on the max. you squirm so hard that you automatically close your legs, almost falling on the ground, but billie doesnt let you fall and carries you to her bed. ânot that tough right now, huh?â she spoke mocking you
âi want you to hurt me. fucking hurt me.â you said between moans and squirms.. as she hear that, her smirk grows wider.
âoh yeah? you want me to ruin you babe? youâre such a greedy whore. hands behind your back.â she says as she stops the vibrations, making you gasp, you quickly turn around and obey her. she took her tie and tied your wrists together, and suddenly you knew that she wasnât playing.
â 10pm, same day, at billieâs friends house, LA.
you were drinking and enjoying the party, but you looked really tired⌠it was billies fault for bending you over and fucking you brainless before this.
but she wasnât chill at all, she looked almost.. you know, paranoid. it was unusual, and you did nothing about it⌠you just watched her as she walked, whispering things for herself as she dragged you into the car to go back home without saying a word. you were getting pissed.. because this time, you didnt knew what it was.
â 10:50pm, at billieâs place, LA.
she didnât say a word to you since you two got home, you decided to take a shower and after that you would sleep. after the shower, billie was already on the bed, with an sleepy look, you lay beside her, getting cozy on her arms as usual. you slept like an angel.
until you woke up in the middle of the night, and she wasnât by your side anymore⌠you heard a sobbing noise coming from one of billieâs rooms, as you got up and started slowly walking to see where it was.. you saw the only room that was locked by a key with the door wide open
You walked like a feather, trying not to make any noise. As you got almost in front of the door, you tried to see what was going on there⌠billie was on her knees on the floor, as the room was full of wallets, ids and even desmembered body parts of everyone you ever datedâŚ
âhow could i do that do her..? her friends know it i could see in their faces!â she was crying, sobbingâŚ
âbillie? whats this? whats happening?â you say as you try to understand her, backing off a bit when you saw she had a knife in her hands.
âi killed drew, odessa⌠even fucking amelia! i shouldntâve done that⌠i only do it for you.. to protect you, im a fucking monster.. go away i know you want to⌠you dont deserve you even a little bit⌠im so fucking sickâŚâ she says as she starts crying and sobbing.. you gently took the knife off her hands, throwing it somewhere.
âwe are soulmates, billie.â
âw-what did you just say?â she says finally looking at you, at your soft smile, it felt like you were comforting her for a bad grade⌠not for murdering people.
âyou didnât kill odessa, drew.. or amelia, i did⌠darling i know everything about you too, isnât that crazy? i always saw you on the screens⌠i always knew we were meant to be.â
âwe are meant to be, billie.â
âforever.â
SORRY FOR THE WAITT, i was trying to write smut but as you can see⌠it didnt worked outt, HOPE YA ENJOY ITT (ofc the plot is inspired by you
#billie eilish#billie eilish blurb#billie eilish oneshot#billie eilish smut#wlw#billie eilish concert#billie eilish fic#billie eilish x reader#billie eilish fanart#billie eilish fanfiction#billie eilish art#stalker billie#billie elish icons#billie ellish lyrics#billie eilish imagine#hit me hard and soft#billie eilish hmhas#hmhas billie eilish#hmhas tour#fic#fanfic#imagine#series
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Something More [than burns]
Katsuki Bakugo x gn reader
MDNI + eventual smut/afab
Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers.
Warnings, etc: series contains eventual smut, slight angst, light violence/injuries but it's bnha soooo, drinking/intoxication, swearing.
This is part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8
Earlier today, you would never have dreamed youâd be stuffed in a closet with your rival, Katsuki Bakugo. Nor would you ever have imagined youâd enjoy that. But being here, pressed against his chest with his arm wrapped around you - it could be a lot worse.Â
Yesterday Morning
It felt like nothing could go right. You overslept, waking up groggy and angry at the world. Your shoelace broke, you dripped toothpaste down your shirt, your phone died on the charger (hence the lack of alarm to wake you), and the weak coffee you chugged on the way out of the dorms did absolutely nothing to improve your mood.Â
Thatâs all before walking into the classroom.
Earlier in the week, you were assigned a term-long project detailing your partnerâs quirk. Pros, cons, good/bad match-ups, how your quirks work together, what you could learn from them to improve your own progress. You hoped for Izuku Midoriya, with his notebook full of information already, but you were paired with Katsuki Bakugo.Â
Aizawa must hate you.
The two of you had never gotten along. Sure, he was warmer towards his friends, who he'd known for years, but never with you. Thatâs fair though, you also hated everything about him. You hated how cocky he would act. His stupid face when he thinks heâs right. How he always got away with his bullshit. You hated the way he treated the girls who swooned over him (all because he defeated some nerfed villain a while ago.) Then, you hated him even more when you saw the constant stream of faceless fangirls being shuttled in and out of his room in the middle of the night like no one noticed. Most of all, you hated the lack of respect he always had for you.
Unfortunately for you both, the assignment would involve a lot of back and forth, questions, explanations, etc. Considering the relationship you had with your partner, the two of you opted to work on your pieces alone, exchanging in the mornings. And, well, itâs the morning. Time to interact.
âHey, Backfire. Ya get that work done?â (heâd always chosen to call you this, over your hero name âEcho.â)
âYeah,â you handed him the paper detailing what youâve observed about his quirk in practice.
He barely looks over it before adding his critique, âthis is garbage. That partâs bad too. Are you trying to make me sound weak? Not like your shitty quirk is that great. Redo it.â
Not happening.
âIf you have a problem, why donât you do it then? Hereâs a pen, thereâs the paper. Be my fucking guest. Tell me alllll about how amazing the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite is,â your biting words saccharine sweet as you pretended to fawn over him, âor should I just ask the girls lining up to crawl into your bed every night to write it?â
âWhat, jealous? God, you need to get laid. Itâs a shame no one pities you enough to help out with that,â he responded with fake sympathy.
This wasnât too far from a normal conversation between the two of you. Any other day, you thought. Any other time and maybe you could put up with his shit.Â
But absolutely not today.
Before you could think, you smacked him. Hard.
A hush fell over the class as everyone watched for his reaction. Your next move.
To be honest, you surprised yourself with that one too.
You were always the âgood kid.â Maybe standoffish and mouthy but you got good grades, always turned your homework in on time, and, mostly, tended to follow rules when it mattered.
But the bigger elephant in the room: no one actually fucks with Bakugo. Sure youâd all throw his words back at him and argue but physically? Between his strength, personality, and explosive quirk, no one touches him.
His face reddened in anger, hiding the puffy pink outline your hand left. âDo you wanna die??â he yelled before Aizawa shuffled to his desk in his yellow sleeping bag to start class.
Class went by as usual, despite the lingering tension in the air. Before you knew it, it was over. The teacher said something about randomly assigned partners for sparing in the morning then set you free.Â
âDo it better,â Bakugo asserted, shoving the paper back at you. The imprint of your fingertips still dotted his face.Â
âFine, as long as you fix your half too. I am not getting a bad grade because of you,â you spit the words out like they would burn your tongue if you held in thoughts of him any longer.Â
The rest of the afternoon, you stared at a blank sheet of paper. No matter how hard you tried, the words just wouldnât show up. At seven, you gave up and went to Jiroâs room to hang out and watch music videos while discussing what youâd wear to Minaâs friendâs party the next day.
This Morning
Aizawaâs monotone voice carried through the training area. âWeâll be sparing today, as mentioned yesterday the matches are already set - the list is posted on the door. If you have an issue with it, donât bother me. Otherwise, find your partner and make a plan.â
âThe fuck,â you exclaim upon seeing your name next to Minoru Minetaâs with a match against Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki.
The team pairings were randomly drawn from a hat but the matches were chosen. Aizawa must still be set on making your life hard when he made the list.
It would have been hard anyways, itâs not a fair fight. Theyâre the two strongest in the class and you were paired up with the weakest. Theyâre also both assholes when it comes to things like this so you know they wonât go easy on you. Not that they should. Your rebound quirk sends their attacks back at them, making you a difficult match for anyone who relies on their quirk. Generally, most of the class you are sparring against are resilient to their own powers to an extent so they arenât at risk of being massively injured but that doesnât make it any easier for them to take you down to win. You typically just have to stay out of the way. However, using your ability takes focus. With years of practice, you still werenât sure if youâll be able to go up against them both at once. And Mineta wouldn't be much help.Â
In spite of the difficulty, youâd still have to give it your all. Youâre lucky you even got into the hero course, honestly. Getting the points in the UA University entry exam wasnât easy. Interfering with other potential students to bounce their quirks at the fake villains allowed you to scrape by.Â
âMatch one, get in place,â Present Micâs voice rings through the building.Â
Preparing on the other side of the room, your rivals didnât look happy being paired with each other either.Â
âWe just have to get the flags off their belts,â you mumble down to Mineta, âthrow your balls to trap them and Iâll walk up and take them. Oh, and donât-â you pause, thinking of the last time you worked with Mineta on anything, âdonât do anything weird.âÂ
âAnd go!â
Immediately, Minetta covers the hall behind you in sticky purple balls. You rush to the other side, taunting them to chase you.Â
âHey, Todoroki, whatâs this I hear about Endeavor in the news? You must be so proud, right? Come over so I can congratulate you!âÂ
The air cools around you, got him. Gliding with his ice, he rushes towards you before getting stuck on the trap youâd set. He immediately shoots a stream of ice, pinning your sparring partner to the wall.
Youâre on your own now. Thatâs fine. Itâll be 1v1.
You turn to take Todorokiâs flag but only find his shoes. Heâs in his socks, taking Minetaâs instead. You can still win this, you think. Youâll just have to be smart.Â
Seeing a corner, you decide to duck into it. This will allow you to bounce back any attacks head on until they tire out.Â
Red and white hair blurred towards you before the room froze. By focusing your quirk, you were able to shove his ice back ten while he attacked. You noticed his feet slide slightly back as well from the recoil. What you didnât notice was Bakugo dropping behind your back and blasting you point blank into a wall of ice.
This Afternoon
âItâs because he hates me,â you groan.Â
Recovery Girl had revived you, after mending quite a few broken bones and burns. She was still baffled by how beat up you came in from a âfriendlyâ class match. A broken arm, two fractured ribs, burns on both wrists, and the entire back of your hero outfit had been blasted off, leading to even more burns.
âHate is a strong word, heâs your classmate. I donât think he hates you,â she continued while bandaging your arms.
âDefinitely feels like it,â you mumbled looking down at your wrapped up limbs.
Once she finished patching you up, she told you to stay here for the day to rest then take it easy the next few days. She was leaving to visit family over the weekend but your condition is stable enough. You slept through the rest of the afternoon.
Earlier Tonight
9:05pm, the numbers on your phone illuminate the dark room.
Your hero costume had been sent in for repairs. Fortunately, your best friend has an extra key to your room. Jiro dropped off one of your hoodies and a pair of pants while you slept. She texted that she didnât want to wake you but sheâd see you at the party later tonight if youâre up for it. You pull the clothes out of the bag and get dressed, carefully avoiding your sore arms.
Feeling rested enough, you texted her back that youâd be there before throwing your boots on and heading out.Â
In the dim waiting area, a black clothed figure was slumped over the chair. He begins to stir and rubs his blonde hair out of his eyes as you pass before he jumps up to follow you.
âLet me guess, is apologizing and walking me home your punishment?â you ask.
âYep,â Bakugo responds.
âGot it,â you say walking out the door. The cold winter air burns your face.
After a long pause, he began to apologize. âI really am sorry though, I didnât mean to actually hurt you. I should have known better and thatâs on me,â his words puff out in clouds.
âI just figured it was because I slapped you yesterday.â
âIt wasnât out of retaliation,â he pauses before continuing, âIâm really not that mad about you hitting me. I mean, I was mad, but more shocked than anything. No one in our class ever treats me like that.â
âWell, someone has to. Itâs one of the things I hate the most about you - people just let you get away with anything. Itâs infuriating.â
âHey, that is not true.â he side eyes you, âalso, the thing you hate the most about me is how other people treat me? Really? Thatâs not even about me.â
âNo, the thing I hate the most about you is how you treat me.â
âWell, someone has to,â your words felt icier thrown back at you.
As the conversation slipped to silence, you realized this was the first time youâd ever spoken to him alone. He almost seemed sincere, but you still weren't friendly. The rest of the walk continued like this. The dead air between you grew in tension until you reached the building.Â
âHey, youâre friends with Raccoon Eyes too. So youâre heading to that party off campus, right?â he asks, while you walk to the stairs.
âMinaâs friendâs party? Yeah Iâm going.â
âIâll walk you there. We can talk about our project on the way. Besides, everyone else has already left.â
You nodded, not having any excuse.
âMeet you here in twenty.âÂ
Fixing your makeup and hair took no time and you even added a little extra eyeliner. Clothes were another story.
Hereâs the issue: all of the cute outfits youâd discussed wearing earlier in the week didnât work unless you wanted to show off your massively bandaged arms. Out of time, you panicked throwing on a baggy long sleeve shirt with the skinny jeans and boots you were already wearing. Grabbing your sweatshirt to throw over the top, you ran out the door. Frumpy but at least no one would ask questions.
âWow, itâs like you didnât even try,â his voice calls out from the lobby.
âOh, fuck you Bakugo! Half my body is covered in gauze because of the burns you gave me. Nothing looked cute.â
âYouâre talking to someone who is covered in scars. No one cares. Besides, if anyone does say shit about it, Iâll kill âem. I owe you that much.â
"You covered the scars on your arm with tattoos though, doesn't count."
Ignoring this, Bakugoâs red eyes looked you up and down once more before running up the stairs past you.
âNow come on, Backfire, Iâm not walking into a party with you if you look like that. Letâs pick something else.â
âOh, treating me like one of your arm candy girls now? So fucking sweet of you,â you rolled your eyes but still followed him back up the stairs.
âIf you were 'one of my arm candy girls', I wouldnât have to drag you back to your dorm to change. Have to say, this is a first.â
âUghh speaking of which, itâs ten - shouldnât you be hooking up with someone by now?â
âPretty hung up on that, huh?â
âOn the way you treat women? Yeah, youâre disgusting.â
âAm not. Iâm not leading anyone on or making anyone do anything.âÂ
âWhat if they end up wanting more?â you asked while pulling out your keys.
âThen I ditch âem, like I said Iâm not leading anyone on.â
âWow, youâre such a gentleman. Bet thatâll never come back to bite you.â
As you flipped the light on in your room, you were glad itâs relatively clean. Except for the pile of clothes youâd created on the bed but itâs not like you were trying to impress him of all people.Â
Not missing much time, he practically dove into the discarded items youâd tried earlier. âThis is cute,â he said holding up a tiny tank top, âand this one. I didnât even know you owned stuff like this,â he said before handing you a stack to try.Â
You almost commented about not wanting to take fashion advice from him before you realized actually looked good. He was wearing a grey jacket, tight black v-neck, and pants that fit really well. Fuck him.
Carefully, you put on the first shirt before looking up at the mirror. Itâs a strappy black crop top. You bought it online over the summer but so far you hadnât had the occasion (or the confidence) to wear it anywhere. The outfit, as a whole, looked cute but it really contrasted with the white cloth wrapped around your arms.Â
âI look like a mummy,â you said as you walked out of the bathroom to show him.
Saying nothing, his eyes analyzed you. âNo, thatâs the outfit,â he said, continuing to stare critically, âdo you have a sweater or something?â
âYeah,â you said while picking a thick oversized grey cardigan, âyou sure I donât look like a little kid on halloween?â Why are you even asking his opinion, heâs probably just fucking with you.Â
âNo, you donât,â he laughed.
The walk off-campus wasnât the worst. He seemed to genuinely feel bad for hurting you so he got every door for you (which felt uncharacteristically nice but you decided not to get used to it.) You brought up the project from class and after a quick discussion, you both agreed it would be good to work together on it. Phone numbers were exchanged and you decided to meet tomorrow on âneutral territoryâ, the library. It wasnât until you walked in the door of the house, that you realized the two of you were accidentally matching.Â
Not wanting to look like Bakugoâs date of the night, you split off fairly quickly and found Jiro and Mina outside.Â
âHey, [y/n]! How are you feeling?â Jiro yelled before hugging you.
âIâm okay - thanks for dropping off clothes, that was a lifesaver!â you turned to give Mina a hug as well, âthanks for the invite! This party is awesome.â
âOf course! You should grab a drink and catch up to us!â Mina slurred back. You turned when Jiro grabbed your shoulder.Â
âOh. And as a heads up, Minetaâs been looking for you,â Jiro mumbled under her breath.
âThanks for the warning!â
He probably just wanted to recap after what happened in class today. That could wait until Monday - he could be tolerable in moderation when he was sober, but dealing with Mineta after a few drinks? Absolutely not. You made it three steps through the door when a glint of purple entered your peripheral vision and you booked it. Rushing between people, you ran down a hallway.
Now
Seeing a door to your left, you take a chance. You reach for the handle when it flies open and you collide with Bakugo, who is also cramming himself in what youâre now realizing is a closet. His arm wraps around you, pulling you against him to shut the door.
âOuch, fuck,â you grumble after he grabbed the still raw burn on your back. Shifting back slightly, you hit a bunch of coats, leaving you pressed into his chest.
âWhat the fuck are you doing in here??â his hushed voice interrogates you.
âHiding, obviously!â you respond in a whisper.
âHiding from what?âÂ
âMineta. I think he wants to talk about today but.. Ugh I canât deal with that little creep right now.â
Upon further thought, being in a closet with Bakugo isnât ideal either.
âYou know what, I think Iâll take my chances,â you begin to press the door open when he grabs your hand.
âNo, you donât. If you open this she might see me.â
âShe? Who's âsheâ??âÂ
âA girl in the support course. Itâs so fucking stupid. I hooked up with her last week, now she thinks weâre dating.â
âSo youâre hiding in a closet? So much for being direct and not leading anyone on.â
âOh, I forgot. Youâre just sooo much better than me. Iâm not in the mood for a lecture,â he shifts against you, âyou know what, fuck it. Iâm going out there.â
âWait!â you whisper yell at him, fighting the urge to say you told him so, âfine. Iâll drop it. Now wait a few minutes, if you open this door, Iâm sure Mineta will still be lurking around.âÂ
âFine.â
Taking a deep breath, for the first time since entering the closet, you become acutely aware of how good he smells. He smells clean, like laundry and shampoo, but thereâs another smell. Something more subtle that really draws you to him. Not that you could be drawn much closer. In this tiny space you feel the warmth of his body, the movement of his breathing. His arm still wrapped around you. This isnât so bad. What the fuck are you thinking?
Bakugo breaks the long silence.
âThis is the worst game of seven minutes in heaven,â he jokes, in an attempt to break the tension.
âNo, it could be worse. Last year I got shoved in a closet with Denki. He was wasted and pretty handsy.â
âReally? I canât picture you playing that game, you seem-â
You laugh, âI seem what?â
âI dunno, like youâd be too good for that or something.â
âToo good for that?â
âYeah, like. You donât even date,â he responds.
âYou donât date either.â
âYou know what I mean. Youâre basically asexual.â
âOh my god, I am not,â you reply, â Iâm just busy, thatâs all. Iâd love to have more fun but it takes a lot of work to keep up in school. My quirkâs not all flashy like yours.â
He pauses.Â
âNone of this is easy,â you almost feel like youâre imagining things when his thumb subtly rubs your shoulder. âIf it makes you feel any better, Iâm hard on you because I didnât think Iâd beat you otherwise.â
âIâll tell that to Recovery Girl next time.â
âI promise there wonât be a next time. I went too far. And I got lucky. If youâd directed your quirk at me, I would have slammed into the wall and been in there with you. It was a risky move anyways and I shouldnâ have done it.â He squeezes your shoulder, âIâll make it up to you. Come on.â
Pressing out of the closet door, you really hope no one notices you stepping out of the small space with Katsuki Bakugo. He takes your hand, pulling you down the hallway.
âWhere are we going?â you ask.
âKitchen. That little runtâs afraid of me so youâre fine as long as you stay close.â
Approaching a counter of liquor, he opens a bottle of tequila, pouring both of you a shot. He slides it to you.
You pitch an eyebrow up at him, âyou think Iâm taking a drink from you?â
âOh come on, Iâm not a perv. You said you wanted to have more fun and I owe you.âÂ
Skeptically you agree. âOkay, but I am not going home with you.â
He laughs, âwho said Iâd wanna go home with you? Besides, Iâm still not convinced youâd ever relax enough to fuck anyone.â
âOh fuck off, Bakugo. Clearly you donât know me at all,â you say before downing the shot. It burns but you donât let yourself react.
âClearly,â he responds slightly smirking before drinking his own.
A few hours after you first started drinking with Bakugo, the two of you are sitting on the kitchen floor with the bottle between you. Youâd started shot for shot but at some point managed to lose the shot glasses and switched to passing the bottle back and forth. Your sweater and his jacket piled in a ball between you.
âOkay. So,â you slur, gesturing vaguely at him, âyou want to be a hero because of All Might?â
âWhen I was a kid, yeah.â He puts a hand on your shoulder to steady you, âbut now I have more reasons, not just him. You didnât answer my question though! Whoâs yours?â
âWho made me want to be a hero?â youâd slightly dodged the question because, even in your inebriated state, the answer is a bit embarrassing. âOkay, Iâll answer but you canât make fun of me for it.â
âThatâs no fun, I already answered and youâre definitely gonna make fun of me.â
âIf I was going to make fun of you, I already would have. Youâre wearing All Might socks,â you lightly kick his ankle, the blue and red socks showing where his pant legs slid up. He glances down before his head lolls back towards you, staring expectantly.
âOkay, fine. Mineâs Eraserhead.â
âEraser? Like our teacher?â he laughs, âno, that makes a lot of sense. You totally have a crush on our teacher!â
âI do not!â you lightly shove his shoulder. Unfocused, your eyes rake over him. Youâd never noticed how pretty he is until now, heâs beautiful. He bumps back into you.
âIs that why you try so hard in class? You should tell him!â he picks up your phone from the floor.
âNo! But also kind of?â your hand reaches towards your phone, missing his entirely, âI donât have a crush on him but I want him to like me.â he raises his eyebrows at you, âNOT LIKE THAT!â you pause before continuing, âhow would you feel if All Might didnât like you?â
âHe doesnât dislike you.â
âHe made me work with you,â you blurt out without thinking.
Bakugo flinches slightly at the honesty, but he seems to get it. âHeâs not stupid, Backfire. Heâs had almost two years to see that we fight all the time and he just wants us to get along or something.âÂ
âIf only he could see us now,â you laugh. To a stranger, you probably look quite close right now. Your leg over his, his arm over your shoulder, leaning in towards each other.
Wait, fuck.
His glossy crimson eyes light up, âwait! Iâve got it, thatâs what you should send him!â he says while sloppily swiping the camera open on your phone and flipping the screen to a selfie. Pulling you in closer, your head falls onto his shoulder. The screen of your phone flashes lightly and he drops the arm in front of you, but you canât be bothered to move. Tipping your face into him, your eyes closing. He really does smell so good.
 âAww itâs like weâre friends, heâll love it,â he says, nudging your phone into your hands.
Prying yourself up, your eyes adjust to the screen. As your doubled vision merges with itself, you notice the notifications in your group chat with Jiro and Mina.
Jiro [whereâd you go??] Mina [we miss you!1!] Mina [okay, weâre looking for yuo] Jiro [re3alyy where r u?]
âOh shit,â you say, âmy friends must have texted when we were in the closet.â
You [omggg just saw tghhese] You [not dead]
Tipping your phone away from Bakugo, you add
You [hes so hott6t] You [shuold i kiss himn?] Mina [oooooooo] Jiro [who.?] You [image] Jiro [no] Jiro [defnitly not] Mina [đŠđŠđŠ] Mina [babe, ur SLOPPY] Jiro [is that a kitchen?? weâre otw!] Jiro [dotn do anythng!!]
Abandoning your phone on the floor, your head droops back into his shoulder. He leans into you, pressing his cheek into your forehead. Taking the bottle from his hand, you sip idly - unable to feel the burn anymore. You wonder what it would be like to kiss him, gazing longingly at his lips that are now only inches away.Â
âBlasty, youâve been hiding [y/n] from us!â Minaâs voice fills the kitchen as your friends pile to the floor next to you, Kirishima in tow.
Jiro takes the bottle before grasping your hands and pulling you upright. âHey, you alright?â she asks soothingly.Â
âTheyâre fine,â Bakugo asserts, âand I didnât hide shit. Weâve been here most of the night,â he yanks the tequila back from Jiro, polishing the bottle off in a final gulp. âAll of you just suck at looking for people.â
âCome on man, get off the floor.â Kirishima urges, âletâs go kick everyoneâs asses at beer pong!â
âWe need to get up and go too,â Jiro adds as she and Mina collect your belongings.Â
Staggering slightly, you follow your group out to the living room before everyone begins to part ways.Â
âIâm gonna stay with them!â Mina whispers to you, âEijiro will walk me home later,â she adds with a wink.
âBye, have fun!â you hug her before turning to Jiro.
âDon't forget about tomorrow!â Bakugo yells over his shoulder, following his friends.
âOne o'clock, I'll be there, â you yell back, your words still slurring together.
âWhatâs tomorrow?â Jiro asks while guiding you out the door.
âSchool project we have to do,â you respond.Â
âThat makes more sense, but still. Maybe next time we go to a party you can find a boy to sit on the floor with who didnât try to kill you earlier.âÂ
part 2
m.list
#Tsundere x tsundere#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#bnha smut#bakugou katsuki#bakugo katsuki#katsuki x you#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#my hero academia imagine#my hero academia fluff#bakugo fluff#katsuki bakugo x y/n#katsuki bakugo fluff#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you#mha x you#mha smut#mha x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#bakugou x fem!reader#bakugou fluff
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24 Hours with You (Satoru Ver.) - Ep. 1
Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: The first episode of a mini-series where youâll live through the hours you spend together with your husband, Gojo Satoru. Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader Genre: Domestic AU, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Humor Word Count: 8K Warnings: whipped, clingy husband!Satoru, sassy!Y/N, shoujo manga inspired backstory, endless sex jokes, and overall cavity-inducing fluff with a little bit of smut at the end (no actual sex scenes...yet)
Episode 1: Morning
06.02 AM
Your very much-needed sleep abruptly comes to an end the moment your husbandâs alarmânot yoursâbegins to ring, his phone vibrating on the nightstand next to his side. You try to ignore it. You really do. After all, he just let you go to sleep three hours ago.
Granted, yesterday was Valentineâs Day and there was no way someone as insatiable as Gojo Satoru was going to end it with just one or two rounds of normal sex, especially not after he went out of his way, spending hundreds of bucks to buy you a set of lingerie that heâd been dying to see. He made sure to dress you up (youâre his favorite doll after all), his grin plastered ever so cheekily on his face. He held his phone steady in one hand, recording the way you not-so-gracefully stepped outside the bathroom in your new lingerie, dying out of shame becauseââWhat the hell did you buy me?!â Which he casually replied with, âA bunny suit. Now turn around and let me see your tail.â To be honest, that wasnât even the worst part.
(The worst part was when he said, âNow is my little bunny hungry for some carrots? âCause I got a real nice and big carrot for you right over heââ He didnât get to finish his line. You punched him.)
The alarm continues to ring, playing a song that you grow to hate more and more each day. âUgh, turn it off.âÂ
Satoru doesnât even stir in his sleep, which comes as no surprise. Heâs still lying flat on his stomach, facing you with his cheek drowning in the comfort of his pillow. He looks peaceful. Innocent. Even when his parted lips are still somewhat smeared with the color of your lipstick. And heâs droolingâin an adorable way, of course.
âSatoru.â You nudge his shoulder. âSa. To. Ru.â
No reaction. Itâs like talking to a dead cow. You groan, your upper body pressing against his backside as you reach out to snatch his phone from the nightstand. With bleary eyes, you turn off his alarm before returning it to the table. You fall back to the side of your bed, flinching as your body still feels sore from last night.Â
A smile forms on your face. Finally, itâs quiet again.Â
You still have two more hours before you have to leave for work. I can still sleep for one houâ
The alarm starts again, playing the same damn song.Â
Of course. How could you forget? Satoruâs the type who sets his alarm every ten minutes just because heâll totally ignore the first fifteen times. Are you really this tired to not remember this? Yeah, probably.
You pull your blanket over your head. Maybe you can just pay no attention to it like your husband.
Just ignore it, ignore it, ignore it.
Yeah, you canât.
You toss away your blanket, frustrated. âSatoru, turn it off!â
Finally, the devil wakes up. He moans, his voice husky and heavy with sleep, sounding so effortlessly sexy but youâre just too irritated to acknowledge it that way. âWhatâs up with the loud noise..?â Sinking back into his pillow and tugging his bedcover up until it reaches his ear, he mumbles, âHoney, Iâm still sleepy⌠Letâs fuck some other timeâŚâ
âOh, weâll fuck never if you donât wake up and turn that damn thing off.â
âItâs your alarm.â
âNo, itâs not.â
âYes.â
âToru, itâs literally Hatsune Miku playing.â
He giggles, still with his eyes closed. âI love Hatsune Miku.â
âOh, for Godâs sake.â You repeat your motions, basically throwing yourself over him so you can reach his nightstand. Satoru lets out a little oof under your weight, groaning. âBabe, whatââ You turn a deaf ear to him, making sure to sink your elbow into his back because he deserves it. Once you get his phone in your hand, you switch it offâthe phone, not the alarm. âThere. Done.â You slap back his device to the table. âNow letâs go back to sleep.â
Youâre about to jump back to your side when a pair of strong arms tangle themselves around your waist, pulling you down until you land face-first on his bare chest. âI donât think so, pumpkin,â he simpers, nuzzling the tip of his nose against the crook of your neck. Suddenly, heâs as bright as daylight. âI canât believe youâre being so aggressive this morning. Did we not do it enough last night?â He puckers his lips, baby-talking you when he says, âIs my little baby bunny still hungry for her carrot?â
âSatoru, Iâll say this as nicely as I can. Release me now or there will be blood.â
âHow is that nice?â He pouts, jutting out his lower lip. Heâs hitting thirty and he still thinks heâs adorable when he does that (he is, actually, but letâs not tell him that).Â
Now, boyfriend Satoru would have insisted on holding you close, but husband Satoru? Oh, husband Satoru has gone through some pain. He knows better not to test you. He releases you with a sigh, his eyes drooping like a sad puppy as he watches you crawl back to your spot. âYouâre so mean.â
âYou love me that way.â
The corners of his lips twitch up again. âThat I do.âÂ
Satoru turns around to his side, gazing at you with the bottom half of his face concealed by the blanket he shared with you. He doesnât really tell this often, but he loves seeing you in the morning like this. That silky nightgown. Those kiss marks on your neck and shoulders. The way your hair is so messy from all the tugging and pulling he did last night. Youâre his masterpiece.
âWhat?â You ask, unable to sleep with how he glues his eyes on you.
âNothing,â he smiles to himself. âYouâre so pretty.â
At this hour? âThatâs bullshit.â
âItâs true!â
âWell, thank you for the praise, my dear husband, but complimenting me isnât going to make me give you a blow job at six in the morning, so can you stop staring and let me sleep? I have work in two hours. One hour and a half now âcause you keep on yapping at me.â
To anyone else, you would sound vicious, but like you said so yourself, this is why he loves you. To Satoru, you look the prettiest when youâre annoyed, especially when youâre annoyed because of him. It makes him feel special in such a weird way. Having spent all his life being objectified by womenâand menâfor his looks, and treated with endless flattery because he came from a prestigious family, you, with your feisty attitude, appeared in his world like a breath of fresh air.Â
(Or maybe heâs just a masochist.)
With lips curving in joy, he pokes your cheek. âBabe, babe.â
âGo to sleep, damn it.â
âI will after you answer my question.â
âJust one?â
âJust one. Promise.â
âFine. What?â
âDo you remember when we first met?â
You open your lids, staring flatly at the ceiling above you. This dumbass is really trying to play his nostalgia card at six in the morning. You take a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He has stars in his eyes. Great. You know heâs expecting a long answer but itâs too fucking early for this. âYes.â
âYou do?â He props himself up on his elbows, his voice a pitch higher. Heâs basically sparkling, giddy with excitement. âWhat was it like for you? What did you think about me? Did you like me from the very first start? Did the world freeze when your eyes met mine? Hehe, I bet you had a massive crush on me~ I see youâre not saying anything so is it true? You totally did, didnât you? Oh my God, baby, thatâs so cute!â
You just lie there on the bed, half-dead, half-deaf, zero energy and he keeps prattling in your ear. âYouâre really not gonna let me go back to sleep, huh?â
âNope,â Satoru replies, making sure to smack his lips in case he wasnât irritating enough. âHey, hey, answer me, answer me.â
Somebody kill me, please. âOkay, fine, you wanna know the truth? I used to hate your guts.â
âEeeeeeeeh?âÂ
âDonât eeeeeeh me.â You pinch his cheek, ruining his pretty pout. âWe couldnât stand each other during high school, remember?â
âI never hated you, though?â Heâs sliding his arms under his pillow, hugging it close as he peers at you with a twinkle in his eyes. âIâve always found you cute,â he confesses, followed by a girly squeal. Satoru buries his face in the pillow, his legs flapping against the bed. âAaaaah~ Saying it out loud like that is so embarrassing~â
âIâm gonna punch you.â
âNo, seriously. Youâve never heard me saying I hated you, have you? And you know me. I hold my grudges. If I hated you, I wouldâve made your life a living hell. But I didnât, right?â He takes your hand, his thumb gliding across your knuckles before he replaces it with his lips. âI made you the happiest woman in the world instead.â
âWith your money.â
âWith my love,â he corrects you, flicking your nose. âDo me a favor and try to remember the first time we met. Didnât I show you enough how much I liked you?â
The first time we met?
Okay, a little flashback.The first time you met him, it felt like you were living the life of a shoujo manga protagonist. Remember all those corny stories you read back in middle school? When character Aâa female lead who was so clumsy, it was a wonder she survived the whole trip to schoolâmet character Bâthe handsome male lead who seemed aloof and mysterious but turned out to be nothing but a warmhearted kid with a traumatizing backstoryâin front of the schoolâs gate where they exchanged long stares filled with yearning and affection even though they just met? It always happened in the spring, for some reason, at the beginning of a new term. There were cherry blossom petals fluttering in the background, the words thump thump and syalala~ scattered all over the page among her inner monologue that went something like, âWhat a handsome boy⌠He looks like Prince Charming⌠And he has such long eyelashes too⌠Oh no, what is this feeling? Calm down, my heart! At this rate, heâs going to hear it!â Remember those corny lines? Yeah, well, your story went down just about the same.
âWhat are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.â
âI canât climbâIâm wearing a skirt!â
âYouâre worried that Iâll see your panties? Honey, please, Iâm a gentleman. I wonât stare. Plus, polka-dot panties arenât my thing.â
âHOW DO YOU KNOW IâM WEARING POLKA-DOT PANTIES?!â
Okay, maybe your story didnât go exactly the same. But itâs true that you first met him in the spring, at the beginning of the schoolâs term. There were no cherry blossom trees swaying in the background because God hated you and He wasnât that fond of adding pretty things into your life. Gojo Satoru was pretty, sure, but only until he started yapping. And knowing Satoru, heâs always yapping.
You had promised yourself earlier that day that youâd do better. Be better. No more running late to school, no more procrastinating on your homework, and maybe even try to socialize more with people (you shuddered at the thought). You didnât wake up late that morning, and you went to school just on time but there was a car accident on your way there, forcing you to take a detour, soâ
âI hate my life,â you grumbled to yourself, staring tiredly at your high schoolâs gate in your fresh uniform that was no longer as crisp and tidy as it was from all the running you did. The huge wrought iron gate was closed and locked. The students were already sitting in rows inside the hall, sleeping through your principalâs morning greeting. You had your bag slinging on one shoulder, your short, pleated skirt swaying as it was kissed by the wind. Your hair was sticking uncomfortably to your skin, glued by your sweat. So much for wanting to keep perfect attendance, you thought. This is the worst.
Little did you know that God in heaven was like, âWorst? Oh, honey, Iâm just getting started.â
Because there he was, a devil sent from the deepest pit of hell. Your âPrince Charmingâ, walking out of a fancy black car and kicking the door closed without even thanking the poor driver. Gorgeous silver hair. Electric blue eyes. Piercing in his right ear and a bubblegum lollipop in his mouth.Â
Gojo Satoru.
He was a second-year student just like you but that was all you had in common. He was popular, so popular, and you didnât have to think long to figure out why. He was a prodigy, excelling in both sports and academics, never failing to rank first in every exam, and it was so exasperating because he never seemed to pay attention to any of his classes. He was just born smart. And rich. Always carrying the new iPhone, never wearing the same outfit when he traveled outside. His Instagram was filled with photos of him taking trips to Greece and outer space (not true). His socks were made of rare breed silkwormâs saliva and his shirts were ironed by a dozen crying maidens (also not true). Apparently, his father was this big CEO who worked really closely with the government so you often heard his family name mentioned on TV. And, to top it all, he was handsome. Like unbelievably handsome. Even you had to admit that. Ridiculously tall, naughty smirk, pretty voice. He was the boy that Taylor Swift would make a whole album about.
Lucky bitch.
âI know,â Satoru said, noticing the way you were staring at him as he walked closer to your spot. He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, gazing down at you (because, again, he was as tall as a tree) with one corner of his lips raised higher than the other. âIâm handsome.â
You werenât exactly staring at him because he was handsomeâokay, yeah, maybe you did. A little. âYouâre late too?â
You had never interacted with him before and you were 99.9% sure he didnât know your name, so maybe you shouldâve started by introducing yourself to him. Or telling him not to be so cocky âcause who the hell started a conversation like that?
âYep.â He plopped his lollipop back into his mouth, coloring his tongue blue. âBut unlike you, I chose to be late. Needed my beauty sleep, you see, but you get that.â He stretched out both hands in the air, cracking his neck. A little strip of perfect fair skin was shown above his belt but you looked away, clearing your throat.Â
âSo,â he yawned. âAre you going to climb first or should I?â
âWhat?â
âThe gate, genius.â
âYou want me to climb up the gate?âÂ
âHow else are you planning to go inside?â
âWell, true, butâŚâ You looked around. Your usual school guard was nowhere in sight. Yes, the gate was quite high and you could hurt yourself making your way down but he could lend you a hand, right? It would be easy. You could stealthily slip yourself into the studentâs hall after that. No one would notice. There would be no problem.
Well, aside from one thing.
âWhat are you panicking about? Just climb up and jump.â
âI canât climbâIâm wearing a skirt.â
Satoru arched an eyebrow before he chuckled. âYouâre worried that Iâll see your panties? Honey, please, Iâm a gentleman. I wonât stare. Plus, polka-dot panties arenât my thing.â
You blanched. âHow do you know Iâm wearing polka-dot panties?!â
âOh, I got it right?â He rolled his lollipop to the side of his mouth for the sake of putting his annoying smile on display. âI must be a psychic or something. On top of my good-looking face? God really does have His favorite, huh?â
âProbably 'cause He feels sorry for giving you such a shitty personality.â
His jaw dropped. He knew he had a shitty personality but he thought girls loved that about him. âWell, arenât you feisty,â he muttered, and you were worried for a split second that you might have upset himânot that you cared about his feelings specifically, you just didnât want to jeopardize your connection with him (He was rich, okay? It would be great for your future career if you were friends with someone like him). But then, Satoru stuck his hands inside the pockets of his pants, leaning close with his lips pulled back in a cheeky grin. âYouâre unlike anyone Iâve ever met. Wanna go on a date?â
Oh, that did it. Those little chances of you having a crush on him? Gone. âGross.â
âOuch, okay, that actually hurts,â he pouted, rubbing the center of his chest where you just shoved him. After taking a moment to examine your faceâyou really did look like you wanted to kill himâSatoru gave up with a sigh, shrugging. âWell, whatever. Iâm going in.â He pivoted on his heels, making his way toward the gate. âIâll see you never, Polky.â
âWait!âÂ
He clicked on his tongue, turning around to say, âYell louder, will ya? Our schoolâs guard is practically deaf but Iâm sure people in China would love to hear what you have to say.â
âYouâre annoyingly talkative.â
âPart of my charm,â he replied. âI feel bad for you for not seeing it, honestly. Now, what is it? First periodâs about to start.â
You thought about it, your eyes flying back toward the double-door gate that was attached to the compound wall. It looked sturdy enough to maintain both of your weights. If you made the jump, youâd still have the chance of being the perfect student for the rest of the semester. But did you really want to ask for his help? He was definitely not going to let it go if that was the case. Oh, you knew he was going to be so annoying about it.
âAny day now, cupcake.â
Yeah, Iâm not doing it. You werenât the type who was so against swallowing your pride if the circumstances demanded you to, but if it involved him? Youâd rather die. âYou know what, itâs fine. Iâll just go home.â
âWhat?â He knitted his eyebrows, watching you spin around on your heels. You were truly a piece of work, huh? So stubborn to admit that you needed his help. Throwing back his head and groaning dramatically, he exclaimed, âUgh, fine. Just give me your bag.â
âWhatâHey!âÂ
With nimble hands, Satoru managed to snatch it away before you could let the thought sink through. He carried it with one hand, not stopping under your command. You chased after him, and you were so close to getting it back before he flung your bag to the other side of the gateâand so carelessly, mind you.Â
You watched it land on the ground in horror. âAre you crazy?! I got my iPad in there!â
âWhoops,â he grinned, clearly didnât feel sorry in the slightest. âOkay, your turn, Princess. Come on, Iâll give you a lift.âÂ
Ugh, why is this happening to me? Left with no choice, you made your way to him. âDonât call me that.â
âOh, Iâm sorry.â He bent his body forward, exaggerating a bow. âI meant, it is now your turn, oh her Royal Highness of the Democratic Republic of Polkalandââ
You pushed him down by the shoulders. âShut up and get down on your knees.â
âOooh, so demanding~â he cooed, but his flirty tone vanished instantly the moment he felt your foot stepping on his shoulder. âWhoa, waitâdude, your shoes!âÂ
Okay, that was your bad. Shouldâve taken them off before you did that. Now his black blazer was painted with soil. âSorry,â you winced. âIâll help you clean later.â
âYeah, yeah. You weigh like a ton, by the way.â Oh, you know what? He deserved it. Actually, he deserved more dirt. âAre you rubbing your soles on me?â He gasped.
âYou wanted clean shoes, right?â
âNot by using me!â
You ignore him, curling your fingers around the iron bars. âIâm going up. Promise me you wonât look.â
Satoru sighed. âLike I said, Iâm not interested in seeing yourâaw, aw, aw, aw!â Tears emerged in his eyes. Not only were you stepping on him, you were also using his head to maintain your balance, gripping his strands a little too tightly when you felt that you were seconds away from slipping. âFuckâStop pulling on my hair!â
âIâm trying not to fall!â You regained your balance. Feeling a bit sorry, you placed both hands on the bars, gripping them firmly as you stood on his shoulders. You stretched out one arm, fingers clawing against the iron as you tried to reach the top. You got it. Now, all you needed to do was pull yourself up.Â
On the count of three. One⌠Two⌠Three⌠Pull!
Eh?
âWhat now?â Gojo asked, his patience wearing thin. His shoulders were throbbing in pain. You werenât actually that heavy for him. It was the way you were stepping on him, treating him like mud thatâs the issue.
You felt your cheeks growing hot, your voice reduced to whispers when you answered, âI canât do it.â
âWhat?â
âI canât pull myself up, okay?!â You yelled in shame. You had calculated everything except for the part where you barely had any muscles in your arms to carry your own weight. âIâm too weak!â
âAnd you couldnât have thought about that before you used me as your doormat?!â
âSee, this is why I told you I was going home!â
âBut your bag is over thereââ
âWHOSE FAULT DO YOU THINK THAT IS?!â
Oh, both of you were giving each other headaches for sure. âOkay, letâs try another plan,â Satoru said. âIâll go first and Iâll pull you up.â
âCan you? Youâre built like a twig and you said I weighed a ton.â
âIt was a joke, Polky, lighten up. And excuse me, I have muscles, all right? You just canât tell underneath all these clothes Iâm wearing.â
âIt was a joke, Twiggy, lighten up.â
âOh, you littleââ
âEnough, we donât have much time.â You climbed down his shoulders, exhaling in relief once you were back on the ground. âWant me to give you a push?â
âAs much as I would loveto use you as my doormat, I got this.â He brushed the dirt off his shoulder and tossed his lollipop to the nearest bin. âYou just stand there and look pretty,â he winked. âAnd try not to fall in love with me too fast.âÂ
Before you could land a kick to his shin, Satoru made his leap, making it look so easy that it almost convinced you to give it another go. He sat down on the top railâthank God, this gate didnât have any finialsâwith his legs settled on both sides to maintain his balance. He took a quick scan of his surroundings to make sure you were alone before he tossed his own bag to the ground. âOkay, I think weâre safe.â
Satoru returned his attention to you, and for a moment, you exchanged stares. âWhat?â You narrowed your eyes, suspicious. He just grinned, flashing his teeth and you knew he was up to something again. âNo,â you mumbled out as realization dawned on you. âYouâre going to leave me here?!â
âAbandoning my princess? Of course not.â His eyes glinted with mischief. âSay that youâll go on a date with me and Iâll pull you up.â
âYouâre kidding.â
âAm not.â
âI donât even know you.â
âWell, this is your chance to get to know me,â he smirked. âCome on, just one date. Iâll take you somewhere fancy.â
âNot interested.â
His smile slowly began to fade the more you rejected him. âYouâre seriously saying no?â
âWant to hear it in German? Nee.â
âThatâs Dutch.â
âWhatever.â
Satoru took a moment to himself, both confused and baffled (and a bit amused, actually). But surely, no one would reject the Gojo Satoru, right? Yet, there you were, glaring at him as you said so. âHuh,â he poked his tongue against his cheek. You werenât sure whether he found you vexing or even more⌠interesting. He accepted his defeat with a heavy exhale, just for now. âFine. Call me Your Majesty then. If you do it cutely, maybe Iâll pull you up.â
âOh my God, why are you suchan ass, Satoru?â
âOh, the princess knows my name!â He claimed in delight, already forgetting the shame from your rejection. âItâs about time you tell me yours.â
âYes, itâs Miss Fuck Off from Class B. Now, give me your hand and pull me up!â
âSay the magic word then.â
Oh, this isnât worth it. This is so not worth it. âFine,â you said, and to his surprise, you whirled around and walked away.
âWait, youâre leaving?â His smirk faltered. âWhat about your bag, Sweetheart?â
You didnât bother to look back. âI donât care. Iâll get it tomorrow.â
âThatâs stupid!â
âIâd feel stupider if I had to kiss your ass.â
âWould you prefer to kiss my lips instead?â
âGoodbye!âÂ
You stomped away. For a couple of seconds, there was silence, and you thought, oh, I actually managed to shut him up. You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back. You might not have your bag with you. Or your wallet. Or your phone. And if you were really planning to go home like this then youâd have to walk for five blocks, but! At least you got to leave him speechless. That was quite an achievement, wasnât it?
âIf you come with me Iâll pay for your iPad!â
Youâre back at the gate. âWould you be so kind as to lend me a hand, your majesty?â
Satoru laughed. A genuine laugh actually came out from the devilâs mouth. It almost felt strange. Somewhere deep down, you imagined that heâd have a creepy laugh, or maybe even maniacal. But no. His laugh was so, so adorable. So boyish. SoâŚheartwarming. It was the kind of laughter that would make you smile even when you were clueless of what he was laughing about.
âYouâre funny, I like you,â he said, sending tingles to your cheeks which turned you completely into the typical shoujo manga protagonist.Â
Eew, what the fuck, did my heart just skip a beat? Gross.
Congratulations. You just had your first shoujo manga-worthy inner monologue.
Satoru extended his hand. âYou better hold tight, Princess.â
âIf you let go, Iâll kill you.â
âIâll keep you safe, I promise.â Another smile, and there it was again. Your heart doing things inside your chest. You tried to find some excuse, blaming all of this on his looks.
Satoru pulled you up, holding you securely yet so gently by the waist once you reached the top rail. He held you close, noticing how you were shaking a little bit when you felt the fence rattle underneath your weight. This is strong enough to hold us both, right? You couldnât help but worry. When you were finally sure you were fine, you began to notice the pleasant, intoxicating smell lingering on the little space between you. His scent⌠It was wonderfulâsumptuous and warm, and you figured, that described him perfectly as a person. A mix of cedar woods and cypress, with a bit of sweetness to it. It almost reminded you ofâ
âThe Last Day of Summer.â
You blinked twice. âHuh?âÂ
âMy perfume,â he smirked. âThe Last Day of Summer by Gucci. You like it?â
âWhatâno,â you scoffed. âI didnât even notice it. You smell like sweat.â
âIs that so?â He was definitely not buying your bluff, but he played along, just for a moment. Satoru leaned in, his right hand moving from the dip of your waist to your wrist, his fingers covering yours. You could feel the tips of his strands tickling your cheek, your body freezing up the moment his breath grazed your neck. You found yourself holding your own, your eyes closing shut when he took a sniff at you.
Wait. Sniff?
Satoru pulled away, scrunching up his nose. âI think thatâs you, Polky. Did you miss your shower this morning or what?â
âI will push you.â
âAaw, but then whoâll help you get back down?â He tugged you toward him, his face hovering just a few inches above yours. He tapped his finger against your nose, matching the words he said, âNot. So. Smart. Are you, baby?â
âYouââ
âHEY! YOU TWO!âÂ
The thundering voice of a man caused you both to flinch. Your gym teacherâYaga Masamichiâwas there, probably glaring from behind his sunglasses and fuming in his sweaty track pants. âWhat are you doing?! Itâs your first day and youâre sneaking out already?!â
âInteresting point,â Satoru answered, unbothered. âWeâre actually planning to sneak in.â
âTeacherâs office. Now.â He didnât have the patienceâor maybe the time?âto stay and lecture you both. He walked away, grousing under his breath.
You let out a heavy sigh. It was only ten in the morning and you already felt so tired. Unlike you, Satoru was still brimming with energy. If anything, he seemed even cheerier than before. âWell, it sucks that we got caught but we had fun, right?â
âLetâs just get this over with.â
âOkay, Miss Grumpy.â He so casually ruffled your hair as if you had been friends for years. âIâll go first.â He hopped off the fence, landing back on earth almost as gracefully as a cat. You wished you could follow his lead but from that height? You werenât so confident. âItâs all right, Princess,â he said, noticing your worry. âIâll be here to catch you.âÂ
That was actually one of your concerns. Not because he didnât seem like heâd be capable of doing so, but more of what would come after he caught you.Â
Youâd be⌠in his arms, right? And then what?
Fuck, itâs just Satoru. You didnât even care about him until now. Just jump.
So, you did. Without thinking too much about it, you removed your hands from the railing, but you didnât jump toward him as you were too stubbornâand embarrassedâto do so. The chance of killing yourself over this was close to zero, right? Youâd be fine.
You could feel your feet touching the ground. You were okay. Or at least, you thought you were. Your shoes, unfortunately, werenât made to do such a reckless stunt. Your soles were too slippery, and like stepping on ice, you lost your footing, your eyes burned by the blazing sunlight as you felt gravity pull you down.
Until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your waist.
âFor Godâs sake,â Satoru said, and you felt his words reverberating from his chest since you had your face pressed against it. He sighed, removing one hand from your hips to cup the back of your head. âYou shouldâve jumped towards me, you idiot.â You could feel his long fingers slipping between your locks, forgetting to breathe air into your lungs when he pulled away, gazing at you solemnly. âLook, itâs cute to be stubborn and not want to ask for my help, but what would you do if you got hurt?â
Itâs corny to say this (actually, everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes was corny. You werenât sure why your lifeâand yourselfâhad turned into this state. You were doing okay before he showed up in your life.) but you were lost in his gaze. The sky above you was brilliant blue, so breathtaking as it was painted by God Himself, and yet⌠When you compared that to his eyes...Â
Theyâre so pretty⌠He has such long eyelashes tooâŚ
(You have got to stop reading shoujo manga. Seriously. Maybe head over to shounen. Blood, death, and eternal sufferingâthat would stop you from thinking about his lashes.)
Satoru was close. So, so close, that a butterfly awakened in your chest.And was it just your imagination or was he leaning even closer to you?
âHuhâŚâ he mumbled out. Locking your eyes together, he gazed deep into yours, not romanticallyâthough you were too consumed by his stare to tell the difference. It was more like⌠He was in awe.Â
You fidgeted. âW-what?â
âYour eye color changes a little under the sun,â he smiled, sweet and youthful. âPretty.â
Mush. There was only mush in your head. And Satoru. âYouâYouâre too close! Get off me!â
He giggled, easily catching your hand before you could shove him away. âYouâre blushing? So cute~â
âWhy are you two still here?!â Yaga, the same teacher from before, returned with a volleyball in hand. Apparently, he left earlier to get his equipment. âDidnât I tell you to go already?!â
âWeâre going!â Satoru released you, clicking his tongue in annoyanceâmaybe a habit? âI swear to God, that man needs to get laid.â
âI heard that, Satoru!â
âI wanted you to hear that, Sensei!â
âAre you crazy?!â You slapped his chest. âThatâs a teacher youâre talking to!â
âRelax, my grandpa owns this school. He canât touch me.â
Why am I not surprised? Biting back your sigh, you took a step back, only to realize, great, I bruised my ankle.
He noticed, even when you were trying your best to hide it. âWhat is it?â
âNothing,â you said, doing as best as you could to walk without limping. âThanks for the help. Iâll see you never.â
He matched your steps. âDid you sprain your ankle?â
âJust a bruise.â
âWe should visit the infirmary first, just in case.â
âWe?â
âI canât possibly let you go alone.â He sounded like you were asking a dumb question. âHalf of this was my fault anyway.â
âYeah, âcause you threw my bagââ
âBecause Iâm so handsome that you felt too shy to just jump into my arms,â he spoke over you. His lips curving. âWouldnât have injured yourself if you just did what I said. But donât worry. Iâm sure there will be another chance.â
I hope not, you shuddered.
âSeems like youâre in pain, Sweetheart.â
âIâm fine.âÂ
âWant me to carry you?â He beamed at you. âPiggyback ride? I can do it bridal style too, if you want. It will be so cute, we can head toward the sunset together after school.â
âIâd rather die. And stop following me. Iâm heading to the restroom.â
âRunning away from me? Coward.â
âYou want me to pee on you? âCause Iâll do it.â
âKinky, but maybe some other time.â
Thankfully though, he listened to you this time, returning back the privacy youâd been craving since the moment he opened his mouth. He watched you walk away, his lips slowly curving back up as a new sense of excitement and joy filled his chest. âHey, Princess!â He shouted, making sure that youâd hear his next words even with the distance between you. âIâll see you on Sunday!â
âFor what?!â
âOur date!â
âOh, fuck off!â
And that was it. That was how you met your husband. To sum up, he had no sense of delicacy, he talked too much, had no respect for your personal space, and the way he snickered every time he saw you? Ugh. Yes, he was pretty. Yes, he made your heart race. But youâre not that shallow of a woman to be with someone just because of their looks so nothing ever happened. Not right away, at least.
These childish banters and unfortunate meetings kept occurring during your years in high school. And as if that wasnât enough, God reunited you once again in college. You thought you were cursed. He thought it was destiny. You still remember how you used to hold yourself back from ripping out his hair whenever he walked up to you, grinning from ear to ear while singingânot callingâout your name. But then you had this one class with him during your final year and your professor put you two on the same project together. You started getting to know him better, and you found out that Satoru had more sides to him, more complex than just a little brat who craved your attention. You got closer. You stopped rejecting his calls. You missed his cheeky grins when he wasnât around. And when he kissed you when you were crying because your dog just died? It wasnât that bad. It was comforting. It was warm. And sweet. It was wonderful.
(Yes, out of all the times he couldâve picked, he kissed you after you buried the precious family member whoâd wiggled his tail for you for seven years)
And before you know it, he asked you to be his forever and you said yes. Immediately. Undoubtedly. Wholeheartedly.Â
âEarth to wifey~â Your husband Satoru pops his head back into your vision. The ceiling that youâve been staring at for the last few minutes turns blurry behind him. You blink, placing your focus back on him. âYou suddenly turned quiet. Is it really that hard to answer my question? Babe, if you tell me you forgot about our first meeting, Iâm actually going to shed some real manly tears.â
You heaved out a sigh. âActually, itâs the opposite. I remember it all too well.â
âAaaw, baby~â He reaches over to kiss you, only to have you slap a palm over his face.
âNow that I think about it,â you say. âYou were so annoying when we first met. And disrespectful.â
He blinks, sweating. âB-babe?â
âNot to mention narcissistic, selfish, impoliteââ
âWait, hold upâWhatâs going on?!â
âYou called me Polky. You called me fatââ
âWait, this is not the reaction I wantedâYouâre supposed to fall deeper in love with me!â
âYou threw my bag without permission. You never paid back for what you did to my iPad. You kissed me on my dogâs funeralâoh wow, you were a little piece ofââ
âOkay, forget the past, forget the past! Remember that you love me!â
âI think you should go back to your side of the bed.â
âBabeeeeeeee, Iâm sorryyyyyyyyy!â He whines, tackling you in a hug, and rubbing his face on your stomach. âYou can have my credit card for today. Buy anything you want, okay? No limit.â
âOkay, deal.â
You shake his hand, and the deal is done. Mission accomplished.
âWhy do I feel like I just got tricked?â Satoru pouts.
You gently pat his cheek, smiling. âRemember that you love me, honey.â
You canât help but think that if cupids were real, your cupid must have worked overtime cause damn, what tough work it was to make you fall in love with his insufferable ass.Â
âAh! You just thought Iâm insufferable, didnât you?â Satoru asks, squinting his eyes.
You plant a brief kiss on his lips. âI think about you that way every day, my love.â
âYou are so in love with me,â he giggles, snuggling closer to you. âBaby, baby, Iâm cold.â He circles his arms around your waist again, landing a cute kiss on your shoulder. You can tell heâs smiling like a child, hugging you like a child, and as much as you want to go back to sleep, you can never find the strength to push him away when heâs like this.
âFine, we can cuddle. But keep your mouth shut. Iâm going to sleep.â
âOkay~â
âIâm serious.â
He pretends to zip up his mouth.
âOkay, good. Stay like that.â
Satoru nods. He holds onto his promise. He keeps his mouth shut.
Canât say the same about his other body parts though.Â
Because your husband is now grinding his hips against your behind, not too much, not too hard, just enough to make you notice that yup, heâs hard. His hands slip underneath your nightgown, skimming over your thighs before they press flat against your stomach. Heâs so warmâheâs always warmâand every touch he paints on your skin is both comforting and provoking.Â
âSatoru,â you warn him.Â
He makes humming noises in response, basically telling you, âIâm keeping my mouth shut, just like you asked.â Heâs bratty that way.
You sigh. You decide to let him be. It will take more energy to push him away anyway. Besides, even if heâs insatiable when it comes to sex, Satoru will never force you to do anything you donât want to. You just have to ignore him.
Which is not an easy feat, unfortunately, because before long, his hands find their way to your breasts, cupping each one fully with his palms. He makes another noise, which you easily translate to âGood morning, girls~â (You know this because he said that almost every other morning). Giddy, Satoru finds himself giggling again, squeezing them from behind but in a way that is so not sexy. Itâs like a kid trying out his new squeeze toy in Toys-R-Us.Â
You roll your eyes. âReally?â
âMm-hmm.â He starts playing with your nipples this time. Again, in a totally not sexy way. Heâs tweaking, pinching, poking your buds inside with his point fingers, and watching them pop back out again. Heâs tittering near your ear and you should really find him annoying but you canât help but giggle too. Heâs so dumb for even finding this entertaining.
âYou are unbelievable,â you say, turning your head around just enough to kiss him. You hope for dear God, you donât smell like your usual morning breath, but seeing how he doesnât smell like one and still tastes like the whipped cream he had eaten (off your body) three hours ago, you figure youâll be okay.
You donât plan to take this further than a playful kiss but when you feel your husband groan against your mouth, pleased by the way you close your lips around his so perfectly, you know youâre losing your battle, and you donât care. Who cares if you only had three hours of sleep and eight hours of stressful work ahead of you? Satoru tastes so sweet on your tongue. He always does. And youâre addicted to him.
With a little push, you have him lying back on the bed. He has one hand resting on your nape, holding your head firmly as he kisses you deeper. âSatoru,â you sigh against his mouth, his tongue rubbing against yours before he moves down to pepper kisses down your neck. He stays mute, but only because you told him to before (though if you knew it would lead to this, you wouldnât have said so). Your husband may have the habit of spouting out stupid jokes one after another in his wake, but he always says the right thing during sex. The things you want to hear. The things you love to hear.
You can feel him smiling against your ear, your body shivering at the sensation of his breath caressing your skin. You canât help but expect him to whisper something, something that you know will make you curl your toes in excitement. Last night he had you begging to turn every filthy word he spoke into action. Today, he just takes your earlobe between his lips, his breathing steady but heavy. The sound of his lips parting⌠The little mmm when he sucks on the sensitive spot⌠You're losing your mind.
His touch no longer feels light on your skin, drawing out hushed moans from your lips when he kneads your breasts, his thumb gliding against your nipple from over your gown. A soft chuckle brushes your ear. He knows how much you want to hear his voice. It doesnât feel right to you, feels like somethingâs missing. But he wonât do that. Not until you start pleading.
But two can play at this game.
You sit down on his lap, the strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder just enough to tease. The sight of the purple bruises he left on your cleavage the night before entices him. Youâre so pretty. So pretty when youâre marked and bruised.Â
With both hands on his chest, you nibble on your lower lip, rubbing your against his hardness. âI need you inside me.â
âFuck,â he groans, losing his battle. He starts whining when he sees you giggling. âBaby, thatâs not fair. You never said that to me before.âÂ
âReally?â You roll your hips, rubbing him at the right spot, the right pace. The way you move is obscene. The thin fabrics separating your body from his only add more excitement to your already burning skin. âAnd does Daddy like it?â
His face nearly explodes. âOh my God, stop. Youâre torturing me.â He sits up only to grab you by the waist before he throws you back to bed with one arm.Â
You find yourself laughing when he blows against your stomach, treating you like a child. âStop, that tickles!â
âI asked you to call me Daddy in the last three years weâve been married and you always kicked me in the face, and now youâre saying it just like that?â
âWhat, did you want it to be special? Should I go make you a bath filled with roses, put Hatsune Miku on speakersââ
âOh, thatâs it, come here!â
Youâre laughing until you canât breathe, your leg pulled and your arm pinned behind your back. He tickles your sides, his smile playful and bright, filled with mirth. This joy you both have, youâve never shared it with anyone else. And maybe he feels that too. Because when he flips you around, pressing your bodies together, Satoruâs gaze turns soft. He leans close, gathering your face in his hand. Thereâs no laughter, no giggle, no mischief in his eyes, only honesty. His voice sounds deep yet gentle when he speaks, âI love you.â
No matter how often heâs said it in the past, how much heâs said it yesterday, it always feels like itâs the first time you hear the words. And itâs rare for you to say it back to him, but he doesnât mind. He understands that you often struggle to portray your feelings with words, too shy to say it under his overwhelming gaze, and if you ask him, itâs one of the reasons why he cherishes you so dearly. Because he knows whenever those words do come out of your mouth, you truly mean them.
Like now.
Cupping the back of his hand, you press your cheek further against his palm. âI love you more,â you whisper. âEvery part of you.â And thereâs so much more you wish you could say, but will your words ever be enough to describe them all? It wasnât obvious to his eyes before as you were good at masking your emotions with sarcastic remarks and mean retorts, but reminiscing those old days you shared with him⌠It really made you realize just how much youâre in love with the man youâve shared the last seven years with. Youâve grown so attached that even the thought of spending some days alone without him scares you to your bones. And with the way heâs gazing at you right now, ocean eyes filled with the same amount of passion and affection as they were on the day he confessed his feelings to you for the first time, itâs only right for you to be overwhelmed by your emotions.
Sometimes it scares me because I never thought Iâd feel this way about someone.
Even the simplest thought of losing you, of not having you wake up beside me in the morning, is enough to haunt me for days.
Stay with me. Donât ever leave me.
I love you.
Satoru.
âI just⌠I love you so muchâŚâ And you hate that itâs all you could say.Â
But itâs enough. Itâs more than enough. Because Satoru is blushing, his eyes turning round, his lips parted but no words can be found. He just looks at you, astonished by the vulnerability you display on your face. The honesty. The purity of each gesture. How beautiful you areâŚ
âSatoru?â
He pulls you into his embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Hugging you so tightly, he barely gives you a chance to breathe and yet, you only wish for him to hold you tighter. You canât tell just how much your words paint vibrant colors to his worldâand bold red to his cheeks. âAre you planning to give me a heart attack?â He murmurs near your ear, a hint of shiver in his voice. âWhat the hell was that?âÂ
You canât help but chuckle. Embarrassed Satoru is the best kind of Satoru. âSorry.â
âYou kidding me? Say it again.â He returns the space between you, but only for an inch or two because thatâs all he can bear. He strokes your face, his heart beating hard enough that you can almost feel it on your skin. âI think this is the cutest youâve ever been.âÂ
âIâm maxed out for today, though,â you say, wincing. âYouâre gonna have to wait another ten years before I say that again.â
âIâll wait forever if thatâs what it takes,â he smiles, gliding his thumb across your cheekbone before he kisses you. âMy sweet, sweet wife. Iâm so happy I kissed you that day. Sorry your dog died, though.â
You chortle. âHonestly, you couldnât have picked some other time?â
âYou looked super cute when you cried, okay? Sue me.â
âYouâre so ridiculous.â But you press his lips against his anyway, both of you smiling into the kiss.
âBabe.â
âHmm?â
âCan I have your tits back in my mouth?â
âSure, why not.â
âCan I⌠also bring my carrot back to my bunnyâs mouth?â
âAaaaand weâre done.â With a little shove to his chest, you send him back to the bed.Â
âWhaââ He sputters, mouth opening and closing like fish out of water. âBabeââ
âIâm gonna go make some coffee.â
âNo, wait!â He shuffles quickly to his knees, holding onto your wrist. âHoney, I was kidding!â
âMomentâs gone, Toru.â
âBut Iâm still haaaard,â he cries, and whines, pleading at you with his pretty eyes. âBaby, Iâm sorry. I promise Iâll behave so come back to me? Please?â
You already have one foot off the bed, tossing him a look over your shoulder. âYou have hands.â Tying up your hair in a messy bun, you step down, smirking. âUse them.â
âBabeeeeee~â
You lean in to kiss him on the nose, patting his cheek when you say, âTake your time.âÂ
As you walk away, you hear him mumble sadly behind you, âBut your carrotâŚâ
Yeah, your husband is insufferable.
And thatâs why you love him.
***
Next Chapter
Shoutout to @justasketch and @princess-okkotsu for being my first readers and for not throwing up from the excessive amount of cringe in this fic. Love you, babes â¤ď¸
#gojo fluff#gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#satoru smut#satoru fluff#jjk x reader#jjk fics#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen#fics.24HourswithYou
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Our Photographer
Pairings: Beta Beth Mead/Reader, Delta Viv/Reader, Beta Katie McCabe/Reader, Alpha Leah Williamson/Reader
Tags: Omegaverse, Established Relationship, Polyamory, Minor Injury, Talks of Panic attack
Summary: Reader is a photographer for Arsenal and a player from the opposing team accidentally runs into her.
Wordcount: 1.4K
When you got the job photographing the arsenal team you were ecstatic it was the chance of a lifetime. The more time you spend around the team, the more people notice you, which leads to your mates discovering you right under their noses. Now Life is complete you spend your days at work doing what you are passionate about and your days off with your mates relaxing. But back to today Arsenal is playing Chelsea and tensions are at an all-time high. Your normally peaceful morning routine was disrupted by your mates fluttering around in a panic then your also normally peaceful drive was full of team planning. By the time you got to the arena, you were so ready to be done with this game. You split off from your mates and make your way to your station hopefully it's a cut-and-dry game but knowing these girls it probably wonât be.
Around Halfway through the game, Katie gets a yellow card which isnât surprising but it does lead to some good shots of her yelling at the ref. As you're looking down at your camera to peak at these pictures of Katie you donât notice the whistle being blown or the ball coming towards you at an alarming rate. That is until a body crashes into you at full speed crushing both you and your camera. You let out a pained sound as the player pushes off you in a hurry in the process pushing her cleat straight into your stomach. âGet away from her.â Katie comes from god knows where shoving the player you now recognize as Lauren James to the ground. This is surprising considering Lauren is an extremely proud alpha who is kind of stuck up. âYou fucking hurt her you bitchâ Katie stomps over as Lauren tries to scrabble away. Before she can get her hands on Lauren again the ref pulls a red card and starts to half-drag her from the pitch.Â
âCome on love let's get you off the pitchâ You startle as Beth helps you sit up her hands gently resting on your back.â âDo you think you can stand up?â She asks her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. âProbably I donât think she hit me that hardâ You push yourself off the ground with minimal pain. âLeah will take you to medical and I'll be there as soon as I can. âLove youâ She hands you off to Leah wraps an arm around you and helps you start to limp to the tunnel. Her purr starts up and between that and her scent you can stay pretty calm. âYou better win this Loveâ You shout back as Beth runs back onto the pitch. âI will just for you darling,â Beth shouts over her shoulder. âKatie is going to have such a fitâ Leah jokes as you hobble down the tunnel. âI think sheâs already had her fit. Did you see the way she shoved Lauren?â She pushes the door the the medical room open as you both walk in. âNo, but it must have been bad for her to get a red card. Sheâll be out for the next two games at least so I hope it was worth it to her.â Leah Helps you hop up onto the exam table. âYou know it was she loves to fightâ Leah moves away slightly causing a bolt of panic to shoot through your body at the thought of your alpha leaving you. âYou going to stay rightâ You ask grabbing her hand. âOf course, I'll be here the whole time.â Leah comforts sitting in a chair close to the exam table.
It takes ten minutes for a doctor to arrive, and at that time the pain starts to catch up with you mostly in your back and stomach. He has a bad attitude as if it's your fault this all happened. He starts with a concussion exam asking you basic questions until he decides you arenât concussed. âWhere are you feeling the most intense pain.â â on my stomach and my lower backâ You lift your shirt just enough for the now purple bruise in the distinct mark of a cleat to start showing. âOk that's going to bruise off pretty nicely but I donât think you have a broken rib,â The Doctor says gently pressing over the bruise. â I would recommend a hot bath, ibuprofen, and lots of rest.â He pulls his gloves off and exits the room without another word. Which is rather rude considering the situation. âHe could have at least given us some pain meds fuckin arseholeâ Leah growls before calming herself and helping you down from the table. âCome on baby let's get you out to the carâ Leah holds your hand as you both head out to the parking lot. This whole experience has only solidified your hatred of doctors.Â
The walk to the car feels as though it drags on forever but soon enough you can make out the shapes of Viv and Beth leaning against the car having a chat while an annoyed Katie is inside playing on her phone. âBeffy, Vivâ You push off of Leah to hobble towards them. âLoveâ You laugh as they wrap you in a gentle hug their scent is so comforting but itâs still not enough to help you calm down from the panic residing in your body. âHow about we get home and have some dinnerâ Viv suggests looking right into your eyes as if waiting for some kind of reaction from them.â that sounds good what were you guys thinkingâ You ask as everyone begins to load into the car. âThai?â Viv asks sliding into the driver's seat. âThat sounds good to meâ You slide into the spot between Katie and Beth. âLook at thisâ Katie says showing her phone to you. It's a video of her shoving this Lauren James with a voiceover about how crazy it is that Lauren would do that to someone. âI feel badâ
âWhy should you feel bad she stepped on you after she bodyslammed yaâ Katie has this agast look on your face that makes you want to roll your eyes but you restrain yourself. âI donât think she meant toâ You try to justify because there is no way she would try to hurt you like this on purpose. âI going to stop you there baby I've seen the bruise there is no way she wasnât aware of the damage she was doing to you.â Leah pipes up from the front seat. âYou canât know thatâ You argue back raising your voice slightly. âI'm not going to fight with you about this how about we talk about something else?â Leah pops the radio on and turns it up slightly. âOkay, whatever did you guys hear Charli XCXâs song guess,â You ask pulling your phone out of your bag. âYa, the one you sent me about a million videos onâ Beth pipes up from where she was ordering Thai on her phone.âThat one!!! Billie Eilishâs Verse was so good.â You fangirl a little.âOkay, I will admit it was pretty good but the videos of her in concertâ Katie smirks âNo because literally she is gorgeousâ The rest of the car ride goes in a blur after that conversation becomes much easier once the fight is forgotten.
Once food has been acquired and you are back home the panic in your chest finally begins to recede. You have some Pain medication and grab a hot compress for your stomach before heading into the living room. you get comfortable between Beth and Viv on the couch. âWanna Watch Mamma Miaâ Leah asks joining yaâll on the couch. âAre you guys going to hate me if I say yesâ âNo we would never hate you, especially over something so stupidâ Viv comforted as you stretched out over their laps. You Leah open the film and you let out a sigh of relief as the film starts up. âARE WE WATCHING MAMMA MIA AGAINâ Katie complains throwing a blanket over you guys on the couch. âYa, you know you love it.âYou pipe up gesturing for her to come and join you. âWhere am I supposed to sit youâll are taking up the whole couch.â Katie pouts.â just put the cushion on the floor and come sit with usâ Beth gestures aggressively towards the cushions on the other couch. This isnât all bad in fact life is pretty good.
#woso x reader#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso soccer#woso one shot#woso#katie mccabe#katie mccabe x reader#leah williamson#leah williamson x reader#vivianne miedema#vivianne miedema x reader#beth mead#beth mead x reader
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Learn To Share
Teacher!Joel Miller x Teacher!Reader
Summary: Your new coworker is a thorn in your side, until he isn't. This is my entry into @auteurdelabre Trope Off 2024! The tropes I chose were: Only One Bed, Stuck In An Elevator, Office Romance (kinda?), and Love At First Sight IF YOU SQUINT.
Pairing: Gym Teacher!Joel Miller x History Teacher!Reader
Warnings: No-no words, unprotected piv(but not to completion!), facial, cum eating, big on the pet names (doll, baby), reader is a grump, Sarah is mentioned because she is alive and I won't have it any other way. In true Vee fashion, I've read this so much that if I proofread it again I'll get too embarrassed to publish it, so sorry for any mistakes, they're my fault.
Word Count: 6.2k
Your week starts much like any other - arriving at work early on Monday morning to hog the copy machine closest to your classroom.
You were a creature of habit. Each Monday you'd set your alarm a half hour early and skimp on your morning routine in order to get to work at an ungodly hour. You were always one of the first people on your school's campus, and that's how you liked it. You had a system, a schedule: check mailbox, make copies, make and drink your first cup of coffee. This routine was what set you up for success for your week, and you wouldn't let anything get in the way of your rituals.
Until this Monday. This Monday, the new gym teacher gets in the way.
It's 6:15 when you saunter into the teacher's lounge, reams of paper tucked under your arm. Your headphones blare the newest episode of your favorite podcast; if you hadn't been listening, you'd have heard the copy machine's telltale whirring from down the hall, but mercifully, the story keeps you oblivious.
Until you turn the corner into the teacher's lounge and walk right into the broadest man you'd ever met. You shriek, tugging one ear bud out and craning your neck to stare up at the face of whoever is encroaching on your morning.
Fuck, he's handsome.
But fuck, he's using your copy machine.
The mystery man smiles down at you warmly, extending a warm hand for you to shake. "Mornin' miss. Joel Miller, teachin' gym and coachin' the wrestlin' team!" You shake his hand (it is Texas, and you were raised right) and give him your name. You're sympathetic to Joel's plight, you really are - showing up to a new school right after Christmas is hard, you knew that as well as anyone. But he was also throwing off your Monday ritual. It was all you could think about. So instead of a normal, polite response, the next words that left your mouth were less than welcoming:
"I use that copy machine on Monday mornings."
Joel's polite smile falters and he drops your hand. The energy of the entire room changes. "My apologies, miss. Didn't realize there was a schedule."
"Oh, no, there isn't a schedule. It's just⌠what I do. Part of my Monday routine, y'know. So, how many more copies do you have before I can cut in? This is really throwing off my morning."
"'Bout a hundred? You know, you're the first colleague I've met besides the principal who hired me?"
You're not sure why he's mentioning this, or why he didn't use the copy machine closer to his classroom. "Oh, ok? Hey, in case nobody's told you, there's a copier much closer to your office, it's rightâŚ"
"Listen, miss," Joel cuts in, gently grabbing the hand you were using to point down the hall and placing it, palm down, in between his two giant hands, "it's my first day at a new job. My daughter spent the holiday with her mother and I haven't seen her in 3 weeks. I'm nervous, I'm sad, and I showed up here early for some quiet time to get ready for the week, same as you. And honestly - and I'm sorry if I'm bein' too forward here - but honestly, you're being an asshole."
You rip your hand away from his grip, scowling. "Fuck you, dude." You turn on your heel, sarcastically telling your new colleague to "have a nice semester" as you stalk out of the copy room.
You go home that afternoon determined not to let Joel Miller ruin the rest of your school year. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you melt into your couch in front of the TV, determined to reset your week in the morning.
Tuesday gets worse before it gets better.
Tuesday you tweak an old back injury getting out of bed and it takes ages just to get dressed. You gingerly slide your backpack over your shoulders and in the car, you resign yourself to the fact that you're going to have to use the elevator to get to your classroom.
Your school's elevator is rickety, unreliable, and you're claustrophobic; you avoid it at all costs. But there's no way your lower back will allow you to get up the stairs this morning.
Unfortunately when you cross the courtyard to the elevator door, Joel Miller has beat you there, already having pressed the button. When he sees you, he smiles on instinct (because it is Texas, and he was raised right), though you see it falter when he realizes it's you he's about to be stuck in the elevator with.
"Havin' a better mornin' today, miss? Or did someone ruin this one for you, too?"
You roll your eyes and scoff. "Not in the mood today, Miller. Hurt my back, and honestly, after yesterday, you're not really the person I want to share an elevator with."
It's Joel's turn to scoff. "Don't worry, doll, the feelin's mutual."
You cringe at the pet name, and mercifully the elevator door groans open, inviting you in. Joel puts his arm out to hold it open, ushering you in ahead of him. You retreat to the far corner, making yourself as small as possible, foolishly wishing you could manifest yourself out of this awkward situation.
The door closes and you push the button for the 3rd floor.
Nothing happens.
You push again. And again. And ten more times in rapid succession.
Still nothing.
Except the lights in the elevator turn off, leaving you and your new arch enemy stuck together.
This is worse than yesterday morning.
Joel, much more level headed than you, pulls out his phone to call someone for help. You hear the principals voice, tinny through the speakerphone. "Hey, Miller. What's up?"
"Mornin' sir. Look, myself and one of your History teachers are stuck in the elevator. We were trying to get to class and the whole thing shit the bed. We're in here, no lights, buttons ain't workin'. How deep is the shit we're in, boss?"
The principal asks which history teacher Joel's stuck with, and you let him know it's you through gritted teeth. "I'm, uh, not doing too well in here, sir," you admit, trying not to hyperventilate.
The principal sighs on the other end of the call, which is not a good sign, "sorry to hear that, but we've gotta call someone from downtown to come fix it, and that could take⌠an hour at least?"
You tense up, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "Well, that sucks, sir," you admit, voice shaking. The principal chuckles, agreeing. He promises to call downtown right when he hangs up, and tells you and Joel to hang tight in the meantime. He also lets you know that he'll send subs to both of your classes, which does little to alleviate your anxiety - your morning classes are feral.
Joel thanks the principal and hangs up, groaning as he wipes a hand across his face. "Might as well get comfortable, doll. Sounds like we'll be stuck here a while."
You gingerly peel your backpack off and maneuver your way onto the floor, sitting with your back against the wall. You wince as you try to stretch your tweaked muscles and breathe deeply, trying not to panic.
"You gonna be ok, miss?" Joel asks, a tone of genuine concern in his voice as he follows your lead, lowering himself into the corner opposite you.
"Just⌠don't talk to me, please. My back hurts, I'm claustrophobic, this is the second morning in a row that hasn't gone my wayâŚ" Joel rolls his eyes, but shushes you gently.
"It'll be fine, doll. Just breathe. Want me to distract you?"
"Stop calling me 'doll,' Miller. And absolutely not; don't get any ideas."
Joel barked out a laugh. "Come on, doll, we're stuck in an elevator on a high school campus. What ideas do you think I'd have? What's your problem, anyway? You've been nothing but shitty to me since we met."
"Look, if you haven't noticed, I'm really Type A. I have certain things I need to do in order for my days and weeks to go smoothly, and you threw off my groove yesterday. I use that copy machine every Monday morning, everyone knows that."
"And how exactly was I supposed to know that? It was my first day! Did you ever stop to think that you threw off my groove yesterday? My first day at a new school and the first person I see treats me like shit - that was fucked up, doll."
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You hated that he was right. " Look, Joel, I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean to ruin your day. I should've been nicer to you. Can we start over?"
"Of course. Good morning, miss, name's Joel Miller. This is my second day of school. I teach phys ed, coach wrestling, and I'm a single dad to a freshman named Sarah who goes to school in the next town over," Joel rattles off. You can see his hand reach out for you to shake in the dark. You take it, shaking firmly with a smile. The first smile Joel's seen cross your face.
You tell Joel your name like it was the first time. "I teach United States history, sponsor the creative writing club, and I have two cats at home who will actually eat my toes if I'm stuck in here past dismissal and they don't get their dinner on time."
Joel guffaws as he releases your hand and your smile widens. It feels good to start over. "Well it's good to meet you, doll. And forgive me if this is too forward, but you said you hurt your back?"
You nod. "I tweaked an old injury this morning and it hurts like a bitch."
"So, I know how this is gonna sound, and I'm not tryin' to be weird, but my degree is in sports medicine. While we're stuck, d'ya wanna see if I can fix it?" Joel lifts his hands, palms facing you, in an attempt at innocence. "No weird shit, I promise. But I know back pain can be a real bitch."
You feel your face flush, happy for the darkness and hoping that Joel won't notice. "What⌠how would youâŚ" your mouth goes dry and the elevator suddenly feels warmer.
Joel extends his hand out to you again, inviting you to make your way to his corner of the floor, situating you between his outstretched legs. His incredibly long outstretched legs, covered in a pair of gray sweatpants. You'd always silently judged gym teachers for their ability to dress comfortably while you were expected to look a little more put together, but you weren't mad at Joel today. You crossed your own legs and put your palms flat on your knees, hopefully sitting far enough away from Joel that he doesn't feel the heat radiating off you - this is the closest you'd been to a good looking man since⌠a long time ago.
"So, I'm gonna have to put my hands on you, doll, but I can do it over your shirt, no funny shit. Just tell me where it hurts."
"So it's like, lower? On the right side?" You struggle to explain, flustered at the close proximity. You move a hand from your knee to gesture in the general direction of your back pain, accidentally brushing Joel's knee with your fingers. You push your fingers into where your back aches, rubbing a slow circle before Joel swats your hand away.
"I gotchu, doll. Now, I'm gonna start tryin' to get this knot out of your muscle. If it hurts, let me know. If you want me to stop, say so." You nod and feel the prod of Joel's fingers at your back. The pain is awful and you hiss, trying to take a deep breath but finding it difficult. "'Salright, miss. 'M gonna fix it, just bear with me. In the mean time, what are your cat's names?"
You answer, Joel laughing at how ridiculous the names are. You ask if he has any pets and he says no. "Sarah's more than enough for me to handle. She just turned 15 and is⌠a handful. I love her, but my god. Teenage girls are somethin' else. Do you have any siblings?"
You tell Joel about your sister who lives in the Midwest, and you hear all about his brother Tommy and the antics Joel always has to help get him out of.
You and Joel spend the next hour and a half learning all there is to know about each other. He continues to knead at the knotted muscle in your back as you chat, learning all about each other's lives, childhoods, failed relationships. You learn that Joel isn't much older than you, but had his daughter young. You tell him about your ex-boyfriend and why his number is now blocked from your phone. All the while the principal is in constant contact with you both, keeping you updated on when the repairman will be on campus (as soon as they can), how your classes are going (poorly), and profusely apologizing for the two of you bring stuck. It's actually not so bad, though, which is not something you'd have anticipated when the morning started.
It's so not bad that when the elevator door opens and you're free, you're actually a bit disappointed. You both stand, thanking the repairman and gathering your backpack. You notice that your back doesn't hurt anymore. You turn to Joel and thank him for his help, and for his company. "Look, I know I said that you weren't someone I wanted to share an elevator with this morning, but all things considered, this wasn't the worst way to spend the morning. I'm glad we were able to start over."
Joel smiles as you both step out into the sunlight of the courtyard. "Feelin's mutual, doll. Hey, give me your phone?" You raise an eyebrow but hand it over anyway after tapping out your passcode. You watch as Joel puts his number into your contacts. "Don't go blockin' this number, now," he quips as he hands you the phone back. You can't help but roll your eyes, but you smile and promise him you won't, giving a short wave as you turned in the direction of your classroom.
During lunch you decide to text Joel while waiting for your leftovers to microwave.
11:05: Hey! It's your new BFF - not sure I thanked you for un-fucking my back. I really appreciate it. Didn't think I'd be able to sleep tonight with that pain. You really saved me :)
11:08: Hey, doll! No big deal - glad I could help you out. Hope you'll be able to get your beauty sleep tonight. Not that you need it.
11:08: Oh shit. Was that too much? Was that weird?
11:08: I made it weird, right?
You snort out a laugh that reverberates through your empty classroom, and decide to make Joel squirm a little. You wait far too long to respond.
11:15: Stop overthinking and eat your lunch, weirdo :p
The next few days go better than the beginning of your week. You're not usually one to make friends at work, but you start to eat lunch with Joel; you'd deny it if asked, but hearing him knock on your door makes your day better. You can't believe that just a few days ago, you thought Joel had ruined your day. He's the nicest coworker you've ever had, and he goes out of his way to prove that. He's also the hottest coworker you've ever had, but you're not ready to go there.
Joel gets a perfect opportunity to be that perfect colleague on Friday. He finds you standing at your car in the parking lot after school, crying and angrily hanging up your phone.
"Doll? What's wrong?"
You watch Joel's face fall as you swipe tears from your cheeks. "It's not a big deal Joel. There was something going on this weekend that I was really excited for, and I was about to head there now to beat the traffic and my car won't start," you sniffle, kicking your tire gently.
Joel places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close to him. He wraps an arm around your middle and uses his other hand to nestle your face into the crook of his shoulder. "Where ya headed, baby? I'll take ya wherever you need to go," he promises in a whisper close to your ear. You know how this looks, two colleagues hugging in the parking lot of their job, and you know it'll start people talking. But you're not sure if you care.
"It's silly. But an author I really like is giving a talk about his new book at this store in the city tomorrow, so I was headed there to see him. I booked a hotel for the night and everything," you explain, another pitiful sob catching in your throat.
"Hey, it's OK, doll. We'll getcha there. Let me make a phone call real quick, but meantime, grab what you need from your car and get in my truck." You begin to protest but Joel peels you away from him, holding you by the shoulders at arms length. "Let me handle this for you," he says, voice even, no room for argument. You nod and sniffle once more, turning to grab your overnight bag from the back seat.
As you get comfortable in Joel's truck, you watch him on the phone. He has his free hand on his hip and one knee juts out to the side as he explains your dilemma to whoever is on the other end. After a few minutes he hangs up and joins you in the truck. "Alright, doll. My brother knows a guy with a tow truck, and a mechanic. Coincidentally, they both owe Tommy a favor. I got him to cash those favors in for you. Let's get you to the city, and by the time you're back, your car should be good as new."
Fresh tears threaten to fall. "Joel, that's too much, at least -" Joel puts a hand up in front of your face, silencing you.
"Nothing is too much for you, alright? Nothing. If you wanna thank Tommy later, he accepts payment in beer. But I don't want to hear anything right now except the address of the hotel I'm bringin' ya to."
That shuts you up quick, and you reach for Joel's phone to type the address into his gps.
Luckily the hotel isn't too far away, because being in Joel's truck, coupled with the kindness he's just shown you have stirred something in you that you haven't felt in a long time. The conversation flows effortlessly, and whatever sadness and disappointment you had felt before Joel had stepped in to save your weekend were long forgotten.
"Alright, doll, this is your stop. Grab your things and get outta here. Text me when your talk is over tomorrow and I can come getcha. Sarah's still with her mom so I'm free all weekend," Joel explains. If he were being honest with himself, he didn't want to see you go. If he were being honest with himself, he's been in love with you since that Monday - as rude as you were to him, he couldn't help his feelings for you. But he resigned himself to the fact that you didn't feel the same as he pulled into a parking spot and pushed the gear shift all the way up.
"Joel?" Your voice is quieter than you wanted it to be, a little more whiny than you meant it, and you see a vein in Joel's neck start to bulge as he turns to you. "I know how this is gonna sound, and I don't mean to be⌠forward? But if you're just going to come get me tomorrow, why not just stay here for the night? With⌠with me?"
Joel starts to sputter an excuse, but you interrupt: "I booked a room with two queen beds! I like to have one to keep my bags and stuff on, but honestly, let me save you the gas," you put your hands up, palms facing him like he had done in the elevator, "no weird shit. I promise."
Joel sighs, hands gripping and kneading at the steering wheel. He seems⌠conflicted? But after a few seconds he pulls the keys out of the ignition. "Fuck it, yeah, that's not a bad idea, doll. Thank you."
"It's really not a big deal, Joel. We can head in, get dinner, and go to sleep facing different directions in our own beds. Totally normal."
"Alright, alright, but I'm payin' for dinner," Joel relents as you both walk through the hotel doors towards the check in desk. You give the woman behind the desk your information, sliding over your credit card and license, but she will not tear her eyes away from Joel, and it's making you⌠jealous? Which is a weird emotion to feel about someone staring lustily at your friend. You push the feeling down and try to focus on what the woman is telling you about check out, amenities, and then she tells you that you've been upgraded to a nicer room, free of charge. She winks at you knowingly, but you're confused. You're only here for a night, why would you need an upgrade? And why is this lady winking at you?
You find out the answer to these questions when you open the door. You and Joel stand in the doorway of the hotel room, neither of you sure what to say. Not only does it look like your view has been upgraded - your floor-to-ceiling window and balcony overlook the city skyline and adjacent water - but in place of your two queen beds stands⌠just one king sized bed.
Joel senses you tense up and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "'salright, doll. I'll head out and come back and get you tomorrow like I'd planned."
"No! I mean⌠that's silly, Joel. Don't go all the way home just to come all the way back. You can go, but let me get an Uber home," you put your palm against Joel's chest reassuringly.
"No way, that's way too far a ride.
'S gonna be so expensive. Tell ya what, doll: I'll stay, I'll buy you dinner, and I'll call the front desk askin' for more pillows. We'll make a wall between us to sleep. No weird shit."
You nod, agreeing, "no weird shit."
"Great," Joel sighs, that vein popping out of his neck again. "Put your stuff down and let's find some food."
When you and Joel return from dinner, there are five extra pillows sitting on the king bed. You chuckle at the sheer volume of them.
"Think they sent up enough for us to make an impenetrable weird shit forcefield?" you joke. This whole day has turned ridiculous, you might as well have a good sense of humor about it. Though, if you were honest with yourself, you wouldn't mind a little weird shit; it was hard to admit, especially since you'd been so mean to Joel when you first met, but you were maybe starting to fall for him. But his whole commitment to "no weird shit" let you know those feelings were one-sided.
"I think we'll be fine, doll," Joel chuckles as he walks to the bed, pulls the covers down, and lines the pillows up the middle of the bed. He fluffs each one before he pulls the covers back up, "see?"
You step around the bed to lay on your side, head propped against the headboard and remote in your hand, "this'll definitely work. Now, for everyone's favorite hotel pastime: trashy reality tv!"
Joel groans, but smiles gently as he lays on his own side of the bed. You watch as he gets comfortable, crossing his legs at the ankle and lacing his hands behind his head. "Tell me about this book you're hearin' about tomorrow, doll," Joel asks, pulling you away from whatever mindless show you've put on for background noise.
"Ooh! I'm so excited, let me tell you everything!"
As you drone on excitedly about your favorite author and his new book, you can't help but notice the way Joel looks at you. He's a really good active listener, but there's more to it; he's actually interested in what you're saying. He reacts to your words, asks questions, and his eyes seem to light up watching how excited you get.
"I'm glad you're so excited for tomorrow, doll. But it's late; maybe we should get some shut-eye," Joel suggests when he senses you've hyped yourself up to the point of exhaustion. His face softens and his stomach flips when you yawn, rubbing your eyes tiredly and covering yourself with the blankets. He can't help but swoon internally as he watches you huddle into your pillow, fidgeting until you're fully comfortable. Joel turns over to shut the bedside lamp off, freezing when he hears you call out to him softly.
"Joel?"
He turns his head in your direction, muttering a short "hmm?"
"Before you find out the hard way, I have a hard time falling asleep. I get real fidgety. I never know what to do with my hands."
Joel turns the light off and turns his body toward you, peering comically over the weird shit barrier. "What do you need from me, doll?"
"Can I⌠does holding hands fall under weird shit?" You punctuate your question with an outstretched palm resting over the pillow wall.
Joel makes himself comfortable before reaching for your hand in between two of the pillows, lacing his fingers with your own. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your palm, "how's this? Helpful?"
You nod, closing your eyes and sighing deeply, thanking Joel with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.
You're not sure when you fall asleep, but for once, it doesn't take forever. You wake in the middle of the night, though, startled by the TV you'd left on switching from reality trash to a loud infomercial. You look around frantically for the remote, clicking the power button forcefully. Your heart still racing from waking up so fast, you make your way to the bathroom for a drink of water.
When you walk back to the bed, you can't help but stand on Joel's side and stare down at his sleeping form. His face is angelic, so calm, and his body is curled in on itself, hands pulled under his chin. At some point while you slept he had taken his shirt off, and you made a note to memorize the smattering of freckles on his shoulder. His pants, those fucking gray sweats, hang dangerously low on his hips. You resist the urge to touch him, to run your thumb across his plush lower lip, and try your best to tear yourself away.
You almost succeed.
"Like whatcha see, doll?" Joel's groggy voice breaks the silence, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.
"Shit, I'm sorry, Joel. Would you believe it if I told you I was sleepwalking?"
Joel's eyes finally open as he chuckles, "I wouldn't believe that, no. But you didn't answer my question."
You roll your eyes, "if I didn't like what I see, would I be standing here gawking at you?"
Joel holds his hand out to you, and when you take it he pulls you closer to the bed, "whatcha gawkin' at, baby?" His gentle smile had turned teasing, almost feral, and his brown eyes grow somehow darker. "These?" Joel brings your hand to his lips, kissing the pad of your thumb gently. "This?" His hand drags yours down the column of his impossibly thick neck, fingertips brushing over his bobbing Adam's apple. He's stretched out to his full height now, laying on his back, watching your eyes intently as he continues to pull your hand lower and lower. "Gawkin' at these, doll?" Your fingers are trailing down Joel's abs, dipping into the valleys between each muscle.
You're mesmerized. You can't break the spell of Joel's gaze on you, of his gravelly voice, of his touch. "JoelâŚ"
"'S ok, baby. Want you to look. Been waiting for you to see me," Joel drags your hand to the waistband of his sweats, stopping to gauge your reaction.
Your fingers twitch, wanting so badly to dip below that waistband, but confused by Joel's words. "I do see you, Joel."
"Not like I see you. You see me as a colleague, a friend. Someone you eat lunch with. You don't see how I feel about you. If you did, this wouldn't be a surprise to you."
"Joel, do you think I'd have asked you to stay if I didn't feel the same way? Think I'd be standing here if I didn't? Do you think I'dâŚ" you trail off, letting your actions speak. You take the lead, slipping your hand, still entwined with Joel's, past the waistband of his sweats to palm at him through his boxers. Joel groans quietly, bucking up into your hands. You feel him grow harder beneath you as you let him guide your hand around him through the thin fabric of his boxers. He unlaces your fingers and places his hand on top of yours, curling it gently against his length. His hips buck again and your hands twist together on the upstroke, your thumb catching right beneath the head of Joel's cock. He hisses, removing his hand from his pants and grabbing both your hips, maneuvering you on top of him, grinding you down against him. Your hands grip his shoulders as you lean down to kiss him, frenzied, messy. You move to trace your tongue across the freckles that had so mesmerized you a minute ago as Joel brings a hand from your hip up to the back of your neck.
"Shit, doll. Need to see you," Joel breathes into your ear as he toys with the neckline of your shirt before he pulls it off over your head; the world seems to stop spinning as he watches your tits spring free. Joel dips his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, palming at the other, pinching gently. You moan softly, and the sound goes straight to Joel's cock, growing impossibly harder.
"Joel," you whisper, his response coming as a quick bite to the nipple in his mouth. "More, need more⌠need you."
Joel unlatches from your tits and grabs at your shoulders, rolling you both over and right into the wall of pillows. As you both maneuver yourselves around them, you giggle "these didn't really work, did they?"
Joel chuckles before he grabs two of the pillows, giving you one to place under your head. He wraps one arm under your waist, pulling your entire bottom half off the bed as he places the other pillow under your lower back. "Guess not, doll, but we'll put 'em to good use. Tell me whatcha need."
You shimmy out of your bottoms, tossing them somewhere to find later. You hear Joel's breath hitch as he drags his eyes down your whole body. He places his hands gently on your bent knees, giving a slight push and encouraging you to open yourself to his gaze. You don't resist, your legs falling open. You take one of Joel's hands, dragging it from your knee and up your inner thigh. You feel his fingers flex as they slide up your thigh, feel them try and stall when you drag them through your glistening arousal. "Need you here, Joel," you whimper, pushing his fingers against your clit and encouraging him to circle it agonizing slowly.
Joel is entranced. His eyes can't look away from your dripping core, mouth going dry as he sees how you flutter at even his most gentle touch. He uses his free hand to swat yours away, and he continues his slow strumming against your clit. "Lemme hear you, baby," he grunts, "who makes you feel good?"
"You, Joel. Fuck, feels so good," you writhe on the mattress, hips rolling, aching for more of Joel. "Inside, please, need you inside," you whine, grabbing for the waistband of Joel's sweats to pull them down, his heavy cock springing free. You can't help but stare, needing to touch him without the confines of any fabric. You try to fit your hand around him, but can't get your fingers all the way around; you give an experimental stroke, reveling in the way Joel's fingers slow to a stop on your clit, in the way he finally pulls his eyes away from your cunt to gaze at your hand struggling to fit around him. He watches as you swirl your thumb across his leaking tip, muttering a soft, "goddamn." He watches as you line him up with your entrance and he notches the tip in, holding a hand firm on your lower stomach to hold you still.
"Gotta see you come first, doll. Gotta hear you," Joel whispers, dropping his head so his ear rests close to your mouth. His fingers resume their firm circles on your clit, resisting the urge to thrust his length into you. He listens to you moan softly, revels in the steady stream of warm breath that fans against his face. He whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, when you deliver a gentle nibble to his earlobe.
The whimper is what does it. That fucking whimper sends you over the edge. Your vision whites out, your upper body lifts off the mattress, and you sob into Joel's ear, "I, fuck, Joel, I'mâŚ"
"I know, baby, I know you are," Joel coos as he rocks his hips harshly into yours, sheathing his full length inside you in one quick thrust. You grab a discarded pillow, putting it over your face to muffle the loud moan that escapes you. "That's it, baby, shit, you're takin' me so well."
The praise makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.
Joel sets an unforgiving pace, heavy balls slamming into your ass, his hands under your thighs, pressing your knees up to your chest.
You're so full of Joel, so fucked out already, you start to babble. "So - so sorry I was mean to you, Joel. Don't deserve - shit, so fucking good - don't deserve this."
"Know how you can make it up to me, doll?" Joel asks through gritted teeth. You stare up at him, searching his face for an answer. "Gimme another one, baby. Come all over my cock again and I'll forgive ya. You can do it, come on," Joel continues his encouraging monologue as he pounds impossibly harder and faster into you. He pushes two of his fingers into your mouth and you diligently suck. Joel removes his fingers with a wet pop and pushes them right back onto your clit. He doesn't move them until you beg. "Where ya gonna want me, baby?"
You blush. "My face, Joel."
That fucking whimper again.
You see stars. The pillow is back against your face as you shriek in ecstasy, going rigid before going completely limp against the pillows under you. Before your orgasm had a chance to subside, you feel empty, pussy fluttering around nothing as Joel shimmies up your body, cock in hand. He grabs the pillow from over your mouth and throws it away from you.
"Open up, baby, gonna come on that pretty face."
You moan, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, keeping your eyes on Joel until you feel the first warm splash hit your tongue. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel Joel poke your cheek with the head of his cock, stroking as it spurts wave after wave of hot spend against your skin. His voice is gruff, whispering "oh my God, doll," and "so fucking pretty covered in my cum."
After what feels like an eternity, Joel moves from on top of you. You feel him drag two fingers through the mess on your cheek, then place the fingers onto your tongue, groaning quietly as you lick and suck his fingers clean. He chases the taste of himself, leaning down to kiss you, his tongue invading your mouth, battling yours for dominance. When he pulls away, you whimper; Joel chuckles. "You're a mess, baby. I'll be right back."
You hear the sink running in the bathroom, then feel Joel swipe the remaining mess off your face with a damp washcloth. When he's finished, you open your eyes, committing his post-fuck face to memory. He's flushed, tired, but wears a goofy, lopsided smile. His eyes are back to their everyday deep brown, big and warm, but crinkled at the edges from his grin.
You're too tired to look for your clothes, pulling the blankets over you, reaching for Joel as you feel him lay down beside you. He lays on his back, pulling you against his side.
"I meant what I said, Joel. I am sorry for how I acted when we first met."
"Doll," Joel chuckles, "'m gonna need you to keep being that mean to me, if this is how you apologize."
#fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#joel miller x reader#tlou smut#tropeoff2024#dividers by kodaswrld
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Two becomes three -George clarkey
words: 2.4k+
warnings: unplanned pregnancy, sickness, worrying, birth.
summary: you and your husband Georgeâs journey to unexpectedly becoming parents along with your social media posts during your pregnancy.
notes: hello my loves! Hereâs the request. I love writing fluffy fics like thisđĽš. I hope you all enjoy this extra long one shot!!đ§¸đđ¤ (please lmk what you think!)
Liked by wroetoshaw, mollymae and 934,125 others
y/username: baby has entered the chat @georgeclarkeey
-comments-
chrismd10: congratulations guysâ¤ď¸
faithloisak: how cute!! So happy for you twođĽšâ¨
max_balegdae: ahhhhhhhhh
y/nfanpage21: there's no fucking way!!đ
user27549810: the random George jump-scare at the end lol
user60286430: didn't they just get married like five seconds ago?đ
I met my now husband George four years ago. He followed me on instagram, I followed him back and not long after that we were dating. Last year he proposed and just under a month ago we had our wedding, which was beautiful and only had our closet friends and family.
An hour ago I took a pregnancy test. I was only a day late on my period but I took it just in case. I could hardly believe it when I saw two lines and it was so faint that I convinced myself I was seeing things so I decided to sleep on it and then tell George when I knew for sure.
But I just couldn't keep it a secret. I blurted out, "George, I think pregnant." As soon as he walked through the front door after his shoot with Arthur tv. He was baffled. "You- woah- you think?" I nodded. He took a moment to process what I just said. "And you took a test?" He finally asked. "Yeah, the lines were really faint though. I was gonna wait until tomorrow to tell you but- it just came out."
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I let out a soft sigh of relief. "If you are then I'll be so happy," he whispered into my hair. I smiled, though he couldn't see me. "I'm so overwhelmed," I mumbled. His hand made its way up to my hair and he gently ran it over my scalp, silently reassuring me.
That night everything felt so strange. You're supposed to take the tests in the morning anyway for the most accurate results so we were just waiting and trying not to get our hopes up in case it wasn't positive.
The next morning I woke to an empty bed. I reached for my phone and then read the text George had sent me just ten minutes ago; "gone to buy more tests, hopefully I'll be back before you're awake x" I sighed softly then got up.
As I was brushing my teeth the front door clicked open and soon George was walking into the ensuite. He smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, looking at me through the mirror. "Ready, love?"
"You look. I can't." I quickly passed the upside down test to George as we sat on the end of our bed. Just seconds before, the alarm on my phone rung but I couldn't bring myself to look at the test.
He took it and flipped it over. A wide smile spread across his face as an excited chuckle escaped his mouth. "Seriously?" I asked, shocked. "Y- yeah, you're pregnant!" He shot up of the bed. I giggled. "I'm gonna be a dad!" He pulled me up and into a bone crushing hug.
The next two months weren't very fun. At the beginning we were both so ecstatic. Then the morning sickness hit. I could barely eat, sleep and it was becoming impossible to make up excuses for why I couldn't go out.
George was like my rock through the entire ordeal. He was by my side every time I had to run to the bathroom, he held me and gently stroked my back as I tried to get some sleep, he pleaded with the doctor when we went for my first appointment hoping there was something, anything they could do and he let me ramble on about how I just wanted to feel normal again.
Slowly our friends figured it out and offered their help. The girls put together a basket and Faith made sure to include everything that helped her through her first trimester, Chris came round to keep me company while George had to go and film something for a brand deal and George's sister sat with me as we online shopped since I couldn't really go out.
When the sickness slowly started to ease off everyone was so relieved, George especially because he hated seeing me constantly upset. I was finally able to enjoy pregnancy, announce it on instagram and suddenly the last few months were erased from my mind.
Liked by faithloisak, arthurtv and 513,290 others
y/username: love, hate relationship with the heat
-comments-
taliamar: you're glowing babe!!đ
-> y/username: đŤśđźđŤśđźđŤśđź
georgeclarkeey: đ
y/nfanpage21: the puppyđĽš
user85299106: this is adorable
At twenty two weeks we went on our little baby moon. I spent twelve days relaxing in the sun while George fussed about suncream and making sure I was in the shade. Since becoming pregnant he's been much more protective, which I don't mind since it's never overbearing. He's just trying to help in anyway possible.
"Good morning sleepy head." George greeted me quietly, sitting on the side of the bed next to my sleepy form and gently pushing the messy hair from my face. "Mornin'" I mumbled, shuffling slightly. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to my forehead before asking if I wanted some breakfast, to which I immediately nodded.
We left our little apartment after getting ready and walked hand in hand down the street towards the cute little outdoor cafĂŠ we'd spent quite a few mornings in the past week and a half.
"Thank you." I smiled at the young girl handing me my pancakes. "Will that be all?" She asked politely after placing George's breakfast in front of him. I nodded and she walked away.
"Mmm, I'm so glad I can actually enjoy food again," I said after swallowing a mouthful of food. George just stared at me. "What?" "I just love watching you." I chuckled. "That sounds a bit creepy babe."
When the day came that our baby moon was over I was sad to be leaving such a beautiful place that I'd made life long memories in but I was secretly very excited to be going home and getting back into normal life.
Liked by chrismd10, taliamar and 623,309 others
y/username: clearing out my camera rollâ¨
-comments-
arthurtv: fifth slide?đ
-> georgeclarkeey:đŤđźđ¤°
faithloisak: stunning!!!
y/nfanpage21: you, the bump, the flowers, all so cuteđ
user10479624: you're both going to be the best parents
The next few months were spent relaxing and preparing for the arrival of our baby, who we found out the sex of just after our baby moon. We had a little gender reveal at our apartment with our families and a few special friends. We decided on a cake, classic, cute and delicious.
"I can't tell!" George announced. I stood next to him, my hand holding the knife that was cutting through the cake. Both of us were trying to peek at the sponge but it wasn't until I pulled the slice out that we spotted the pink.
Immediately the room erupted into cheers. I placed it down on a plate along with the knife and I turned to my husband. Tears welled in my eyes and when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body off of the ground the commotion around us seemed to disappear and all I could focus on was us.
"We're having a girl," I whispered, as though I was trying to convince myself that this was actually real. He gently placed me down, his hands landing on my hips. "I knew it. Dad intuition goes crazy." I giggled before pushing onto my tip toes and placing a loving kiss to his lips.
After that day I was suddenly obsessed with buying baby clothes, what the nursery was going to look like and the realisation hit me that I was actually going to have to push a human being out of my body, though George was quick to reassure me about that.
"Baby's the size of a small pineapple this week," I informed George as we sat on the couch, my feet resting on his lap as he slowly massaged them through my socks. I turned my phone around so he could see the app that keeps track of the baby.
"That's huge." He muttered, eyes widening slightly. I chuckled. "When she's done cooking she'll be the size of a pumpkin." "Oh god, I'm sorry." My brows furrowed, an amused look on my face. "What are you apologising for?"
"You're gonna have to lug around a pumpkin sized baby," he replied, deadly serious. I just laughed, though I wasn't particularly looking forward to that.
The months flew by and suddenly I was actually carrying a pumpkin sized baby in my stomach. At thirty seven weeks my back constantly ached, I needed to pee every five minutes, I wasn't sleeping properly since I had a future gymnast kicking around in my stomach and all in all I was just uncomfortable.
Since I could now go into labour at any second George was watching me like a hawk. Every grimace when I felt an extra strong kick, every sigh and every time my hand touched my stomach he would sit upright and just wait for me to say something.
"I'm fine, George," I'd say. "Just checking," he'd reply and that interaction would repeat itself another one hundred times before the day ended.
"I won't go if you don't want me to, Chris can find someone else last minute," George whispered as we lay in bed, my back pressed against his chest as he gently drew circles on the side of my bump. "No, I'll be okay. It's only a few hours," I mumbled back, half asleep. "Okay, just promise you'll call me if anything happens?" "Promise."
He left early the next morning to film the football video for Chris' channel, meaning I woke up alone. I went about my routine like normal though it felt like it was taking me longer to do my usual things, like I was moving at snail pace, which was slightly strange but I brushed it off.
An hour later I lay on the couch scrolling through instagram when I felt a twinge in my lower stomach. My brows furrowed slightly. "That was weird," I thought but I continued to scroll.
Until I felt it again. This time I decided to keep my promise to George and phone him. It ring a few times before he picked up. "Everything okay? Is it the baby?" He said immediately in a rushed tone. "I'm not sure, I just feel... weird."
He took in a shaky breath. "I knew I shouldn't have come today! I'm coming home." "It's fine, I'm- we're fine. Calm down-" "no no, I'll be there in twenty minutes, love you." And with that he ended the call. I sighed, feeling slightly bad that he'd had to leave the shoot but also a little relieved.
Just under twenty minutes later he burst through our apartment door. I stood in the kitchen, hands on the countertop as I took a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut. I heard his bags drop then the sound of his feet racing towards me.
"You said you just felt weird!" He placed his hand on the small of my back. I looked up at him as the pain subsided. "I did! It started getting worse after I called you."
George collected himself. "Okay okay, you're having contractions?" "Mhm, think so," I responded quietly. "How far apart?" "Like five minutes." He thought back to the birthing class we'd gone to last month. "I think we've got some time and the woman said the first kid always takes a while so let's not stress," he tried to reassure me and himself.
"I'll go get the bag, you just- uh... breathe." I chuckled softly, already calmer now that he was here. He emerged from our bedroom minutes later with the small suitcase in hand.
It took half a hour to get out of the door, drive to the hospital and get checked into a room. After that we could both relax.
The contractions weren't unbearable but I wanted the epidural as soon as possible. "Hmf-" I squeezed George's hand. "Another one?" He asked softly. All I could do was nod. "You're doing amazing sweetheart, so so good. I'm so proud of you."
Once I got the injection I felt like a million bucks. I couldn't feel the contractions, just a little bit of pressure. I sat in the bed happily as I ate my ice chips. Before I knew it, it was time to push.
Liked by sidemen, prettylittlething and 1,004,586 others
y/username: we've been in our little baby bubble this week but I wanted to officially introduce you to Maddie Clarkeđ¤đźđźđŤ
-comments-
georgeclarkeey: my girlsâ¤ď¸
max_balegdae: yasss mother
taliamar: congratulationsđĽşđ
y/nfanpage21: I'M CRYING
user02781643: they're literally living the dream life omg!!
"She looks just like you," I said as I watched George's eyes fill with tears, his arms secured around his daughter, just ten minutes after she'd entered the world. He glanced down at me. "I love you so much, this is officially the best day of my life," he whispered. I smiled fondly and somehow I fell in love with George all over again, in a completely different way.
We spent a day and a half in the hospital before being discharged. It had been just me, George and the baby in a little room so it felt amazing to go home. I waddled after my husband as I watched him carry our newborn -who slept soundly in her car seat- out and toward the car. He strapped her in then helped me into the backseat.
"I get what people were taking about now," I said as he stared the engine. "Huh?" "I saw a video about the 'hot dad walk' out of the hospital and I totally get them." He chuckled, though he was cautious of the sleeping baby.
After a few days and once we were in somewhat of a routine his family came over to visit. His slightly younger sister was so excited and could barely keep quiet. "She's adorable. Oh my goodness, look at her little feet!" "Okay everyone, no touching until you've washed your hands!" He announced, pointing towards the kitchen sink.
I watched with a smile on my face as he fussed over whether Maddie's head was supported, it was extremely sweet how much he cared for and loved our daughter. I couldn't wait to watch as he became the best dad ever.
#george clarke#george clarkey#george clarkeey#georgeclarkeey#george clarke x reader#george clarkey x reader#george clarkey x y/n#youtuber x reader#tiktoker x reader#fanfic#imagine#oneshot#x fem!reader#x female reader#x y/n#x you#x reader#pregnancy#unplanned pregnancy#fluff#instagram au#instagram
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Loosen Your Grip. | R & D
logline; even when it seems counter-intuitive.
[!!!] series history; so many parts, so many words.
Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettinâ added to. 8 hour mark officially! Lets go!
portion; 15k knowing the next chapters, this trend isn't going to change. they have started to line up with the chapter number, to my chagrin.
possible allergies; i think this one is relatively harmless? Stress though. Everyone's stressed. Idk what to tell you man, it's the bear. oh but more things were yoinked from Season 3!! Think that's just gonna be ongoing tbh. also if this is bad don't tell me. tell me it's really good, actually. i've never doubted a chapter more than I do this one.
pairing; Carmen âCarmyâ Berzatto & Fem Reader it's so fem. it's so she/her'd it's so girl'd i'm so sorry
kofi; if youâve enjoyed the series, perhaps you wanna tip!
i'm so sorry for the delays beloveds, can you say 'most high stress but high reward month and a half of my life'? i can!!!
The Monday morning after New Yorkâ The first morning waking up in your own bed in a day or twoâ Comes rudely. Well, not immediately. First you have to roll over and grab aimlessly at your nightstand, searching for your phone to turn off your alarm. Through blurred vision you slide it to snooze, and as you debate going back to bed, your eyes glaze over some texts youâve received in your sleep, from numbers you never bothered to put in your contacts. It takes a minute to absorb the information and register it as real, but once you doâ
â...Are you fucking kidding me?!âÂ
âYouâre definitely not gonna be heading back to bed anymore. Youâre wide-eyed and wiredâ You can probably skip coffee this morning. Maybe every morning forever.
âOhâ I fucking hate this fucking city, I fucking hate Chicagoâ Fuck this!âÂ
In lieu of coming to terms with your world shattering news, perhaps this is an important moment to express gratitude, for the things that have gone well in the past few days.Â
The rest of the weekend in New York was as lovely as a last-minute trip in a cramped car full of kitchen equipment and four neurotics can be.
Gratitude. Highlight reel?
Thereâs a bag M and Ms monogrammed with Sydâs, Richieâs, Carmyâs, and your faces in your pantry now. Eva shouldnât be the only one allowed to have fun. Though snacking on all your cute little faces does make you feel like a slight monster.
Managed to get a good gift for Richie. Thank you Tiffanys. It was certainly an interesting moment when everyone tried to come up with lame excuses as to why they had to split up from the group to definitely totally not go get Christmas presents.
 Carmenâs knife guy wasnât able to do engravings on such short notice, and youâre not the type to settle for less, especially not with Syd, so thatâll be a next year gift, it seems. You came up with a serviceable back-up while strolling through the METâ Which was a mostly fun field trip, it was very inspiring. You all could've done without Richie's pretentious prattling about postmodern absurdist dadaism. Mostly because you're pretty sure half of it was wrong; but still a good trip, all told.
Still lost on what to get Carmen⌠Youâve got a week, itâs fine. Youâve done more with less before. How do you subtly ask a guy, âhey, what the hell else do you like besides your job?â Youâll figure it out. Figure it out like you figure out everything else, like you always do. Hopefully.
It's Monday. You've got a week. It's fine. Stop looking at your phone. This is such bad timing. This is awful fucking timing. Youâll figure it out. Stop looking at your phone, stop looking at the texts. Do the Connections, send it to Carmy, he already sent his, be normal⌠Just such bad timingâ
At the very least if you can't bear to look away from the life ruining texts, just shut your phone off. Youâve got to stop ruminating or youâll rot in bed forever. And you really have to get out on time, today.Â
âGod wants me to kill myselfââ Gratitude. Express gratitude.
The drive back went âwellâ. Everyone had their licenses so the squad took shifts either driving or sitting on the uncomfortable console. Or, in your case specifically, sitting half on Carmenâs lap in shotgun on occasion despite the many complaints from Syd and Richie. You had a good excuse! Neither of you slept for the entire trip just to work on the cocktail and coffee menu. It was practically a sacrifice! It was just easier to sit up front together, okay!? You had to be close, you were scribbling ratios and drawings of glasses into a stolen notepad from the Holiday Inn with pencil crayons bought from FAO Schwarzâ
Oh, hey, put that on the gratitude scoreboard, that was another thing that went well. Pretty cool to go to the oldest toy store in America. Might not have gotten the chef in your life anything yet, but the kids in your life are coveredâ Youâre winning best Aunt for sure.
Oh, huge highlightâ Didnât say love you, like some idiot. Got away with that by the skin of your teeth, honestly. Hard to stare up at the Rockefeller Christmas Tree next to the guy and not blurt out something fucking stupid. Thank God for Syd, who stomped on your foot when you seemed a little too doe eyed.
With great pain and bemoaning, you finish expressing gratitude, which hasnât helped much. You slam your phone screen down on your nightstand and roll out of bed.Â
Todayâs Monday. Todayâs your first day at The Bear. Today that is the priority and there is nothing else to worry about.
You signed your contract last night. Talked to Syd for hours about it, planning next steps and goals and classes and budgets and a million other things. Youâre both a little easily excitable, when it comes to lists and plans. Watching you sign yours gave her the âconfidenceâ to sign hers, if you can call it that. Not like you knew she needed the help, though.
âI love my life, I love my life, I love my lifeâŚâ If you keep saying it while washing your face in the bathroom, itâll become true, right? âŚWhereâs Saraâs card again?
The Bear doesnât run service on Mondays, so itâs a good day to do onboardingâ Good day to do R and D. âŚWhat does one wear to R and D? Donât need the serving uniform. Donât need to dress up. Donât need the jumpsuit⌠This is the first time you donât need a uniform and that is bizarre.
Youâll wear your dadâs flannel, at least. Feels illegal to not wear the patch worked flannel. But besides that, youâre just a normal⌠restaurateur⌠part of the teamâŚ
Your hand hovers over where your necklace sits, in the small jewellery box on your vanity. âMikey, if you want me to keep wearing it, make my ceiling cave in or some shit.â
You give it ten seconds and nothing falls. With a curt nod to no one, you pick up your book bag filled with loose tools and the menu filled notepad. Leave your bedroom, put your shoes on, grab your keys out of your clay dish tray on the way out.
Itâs snowing.
Thatâs a lot of stuff falling, so to speak.
Thatâs basically a sign. Thatâs basically what you asked for.
You head back in, grab the necklace, hook it over your neck, and tuck it under your shirt. Baby steps. You head back out.
âŚAnd then soon after, head back inâ Forgetting one of the most important things you need today. âThe fucking glass, goddamn it!â
Thereâs a chance that today might be a little bit of an off day for you. No oneâs gonna notice that, though.
âMikey, why didnât you tell me? You want me to look stupid on my start day, don't you? Fucker.â
Youâre good. Youâre you. You figure shit out. Youâre compartmentalising perfectly and no oneâs gonna be able to tell that youâre internally scrambling to figure out where you're gonna live once your lease gets terminated.
â âSup with you?â Okay, so Tina did immediately notice upon opening the back door for you. She tries to help you with the huge sheet of plexiglass youâre carrying, but you wave her off, stumbling further inside The Bear. Thankfully itâs a slow start to the morning, so the walk way is clear for your fumbled steps.
âI got it, T, just spot meââ
âWoahwoahwoahââ But alas, immediately Carmen is rushing over, making a big deal over nothing, âFuck are you doin?â And grabs the thick sheet of glass from you. âWait by your car next time, why do I gotta keep tellinâ you?â
âI am very capableââ You grunt, but youâre relieved when he takes the weight off you. You nod to the table in front of expo. âPut it on the island.â
âWhatâs it for?â Carmy asks but he follows direction without hesitation.
âSydâs idea.â You walk with him, sidling up to Syd whoâs already stationed up on the island with what looks like way too much paperwork for Chefs. You bump her shoulder as a greeting, she bumps you back. She lifts up the stack of papers and you pick up her deli container of Coke and ice, letting Carmen slide the glass onto the table.
âUnless itâs badââ You correct, putting the cup down and digging through the tool bag on your shoulder for the right parts. âIf you hate it, then itâs my idea.â
Syd snorts next to you, putting the papers back down on top of the glass. âNice save.â
âWhatâs your idea, Chef?â Carmen taps his fingers against the glass, bemused.
You finally fish out two lock hinges from your bag, gesturing to them with a little flair like youâre Vanna White as Sydney explains. âFor R and D. Thought since weâre likeâ Constantly changing shit and needing to review, itâd be like, useful to have a whiteboardâ But those are huge and inconvenient for a restaurantâ Duhâ Soââ
âGlass!â You come in with the assist as she rambles on. âOn hingesâ These oneâs lock so you can have the glass sort of tilted up like an easel, or on the stationâ And then when you start service you can just flip it down off the counter for the night. Easy!â
âAndâAndââ Like a TV ad, Syd points out, âWe can put paper under it and still be able to seeâ So itâll make editing clearerâ I-I think.â
Carmen always takes a nerve-wracking amount of time to think through otherâs ideas, but once he nods, you both breathe easy. âSmart idea. Thank you, Chefs.â
You just smile, and this seems to bother Carm. Or at the very least, something is bothering him, as he frowns. âYou got a second?â
Your brows furrow, for a moment, worried. You nod, putting your tools down. Glass can wait. âAlways.â
Carmen comes around the counter, before he pulls you aside, Syd whispers over your shoulder, âTrouble in paradise.â Making you snort. When has it ever been paradise?
The two of you lean across from each other in the doorway of Carmenâs office, not quite in, not quite out. He looks worried, and his worrying is making you worry. Heâs first to say something, concerned hand on your shoulder.
âAre you good?â
Fuck, he caught you too? âHmm? Yeah, Iâm good, do I notââ
Youâre halfway through your response when he interrupts, he seems even more panicked by your words. His hand abandons your shoulder. âRightâ Stupid, stupid fucking questionâ I justâ Sorryââ
âWoahââ You grip both his shoulders, rubbing down his sleeves lightly. âAre you good, Carmy? Youâre right, sweets. You caught me. Iâm a lilâ off today. What gave me away?â
âRight, yesâ Youâre nice.â Heâs saying it more to himself than you, like he needs to remind himself. Even so, it still hitches your heartbeat. âIâ Iâm good, I was justâYou didnât text me back this morning.â
âOh.â You say it so breathlessly, with relief. Itâs cute that thatâs whatâs got him freaking. âSorry, yeah, Iâve been trying to not look at my phone, I just got someâŚâ You shake your hand in the air for effect. âBleh news. Put a wrench in some things for me, thatâs all.â
âYeah? Whatâs up?â
âAhââ You shake your head, waving it off, âToo much to get into. Later, though?â
âYeah, yeah. Whenever you want.â He nods. âAh, I wanna get into uhmââ Carmen snaps his fingers a few times, finding the words. âGet into drinks, today. I made all the concentrates and syrups ahead of timeâBut Uncles gonna come in first with The Computer to go over some numbers shitâ Should be here in thirty?â
You nod, squinting. âIs it like⌠A special computer or something?â
âComputer is a guy.â Carmen says, while Syd yells the same in tandem with him, âWhy wouldnât he be!?â Walking past you both as she carries produce out of the walk-in.
âWhy wouldnât he be?â You grin, reiterating. Your smile soon sobers though, as you finally notice a giant silver blob of machinery behind Carmen. âBaby, what the fuck is that?âÂ
Youâre already walking past him, quickly winding up all over again. Itâs a gorgeous espresso machineâ âItâs an Ascaso.â Explains Carmen. âItâs the best.â And itâs sitting exactly where your beautiful beat up mistake of a heavily-stained coffee machine used to be.Â
âBaby, baby, babyââ youâre looking above and below the station for your rusted companion, hushed and panicked. âDonât tell me you threw away the old oneââÂ
âYou want the old one?â
Richieâs timing is perfect, as he walks in from front of house, and even from just hearing the last sentence, âFuckinâ told you, Carm.â He knows the context. He keeps walkingâ On a mission, seemingly.
âIâm gratefulâ I- I am.â You kneel down and shove some mixing bowls aside to see if it was tucked in the back of some shelfâ Itâs not here. Sheâs not here. âNew is goodâ New is niceâ Iâll learn how to use the new oneâ I willâ Butâ Iâ I need the old oneâ You didnât throw it away, did you?âÂ
When he stays silent, you turn and look up to Carmen from where youâre crouched on the ground, pleading. âTell me you didnât.â
âIâ Iââ The Chef is nearly sweating from this line of questioning alone. âItâ It barely workedââ
âI know it didnât! Thatâs the point!â
He blinks. You just seem to be saying all his trigger phrases, today, huh? âThatâs the point?â
âI knew how she worked.â You push yourself back up onto your feet. âItâs got an espresso function that doesnât work, if you tamp the basket the basket literally breaks off so you have to hold it and burn your hand a littleâ You have to hold the hot water button at the same time as the grind button for some reason or it wonât dispenseâ Itâs literally a fucking nightmareâ I covered it in like ten sticky notes of instructions at one point and they became pointless because no one but me was willing to use it. Andâ And Iâve got it memorized.â
â...And you want that?â
âNo oneâs gonna know how to take care of her, sheâs my baby!â You gesture, albeit a bit too dramatically, speaking with your hands. âIf you throw her away or donate her, no oneâs gonna take the time to figure it outâ Theyâre just gonna think sheâs broken but sheâs not, she works! She just needs the right hand!â
A dull silence falls between you, as Carmen purses his lips, squinting. Thereâs an ever slight chance your âIâm totally fineâ facade is cracking. â...Are you sure you donât want to talk about your thing rightââÂ
âIâm good!â â...Okay.â âDid you get rid of her?â
âRelax, Handy!â Carmen does not say this.Â
You grimace, looking behind Carmen to see Chi-Chi yelling from around the bend, in The Beefâs corner territory. Looking over him with the blue apron calling you your least favourite nickname by farâ Well, second least favourite, only toâ âSheâs over here, Jack-Off. More our speed than rich boyâs ack - queso bullshitâŚâ Itâs nostalgic. Bad nostalgic but nostalgic.Â
He slaps the top of the machine, you and Carmen both wince as a random spigot falls off it. Chi-Chi clicks his tongue, staring at it in silence. â...Refresher would be good, though.â
Youâre already walking back to your damaged darling, patting Carmen on the shoulder as a form of goodbye, he pats your hand back. You donât get to see him smile, as he watches you get to work. âDonât fuckinâ call me Jack-Off and donât touch her, Iâll show you, Iâll break your hand Cheech, I swearââ
The man in question shrugs, a devilish and terrible smirk on his stupid face. âEy, love a woman in charge. Show me the ways.âÂ
Even on your most off days, working with The Beef will always be second nature for you. Even when the space is significantly more cramped than it used to be.Â
You rewrite directions on how to use the coffee machine while showing them to Ebra and Chi-Chi. Ebra tends not to learn new tricks, so he stops listening by the time you get to syrups. Thatâs fine. No one ordered syrups in their coffee at The Beef back in the day all that often either.
Mikey really shouldnât have invested in all those syrups back then. He really only did it for you and the staff. To be fair, when he did convince regulars to try your coffee they always changed their tune. The people donât know what they like yet. They will like this. You were his proof that that idea was true.
âYou gotta toss these, Boss. Slows you down.â You overhear Cheech saying behind you. You turn to see his arm on Ebraâs shoulder, holding the small blue baskets for sandwiches in his other hand. âJust the wrapping is fine. These people are gonna throw this shit out anyways, waste of plastic.â
Cheech turns his head to you, âRight, Handy?â
â...Donât call me Handy.â Donât freak out about throwing the old stuff away. Donât freak out about throwing his old stuff away. You shrug, looking at Ebra over your shoulder. âMaybe just offer them, if they ask for one?â
âYâknow what the people are asking for, babe?â Cheech sucks his teeth, pulling Ebra closer, who looks nonplussed. âTheyâre asking where the nearest brick is to throw through our window. This rich people shit is getting on their nerves.â
You sigh, eyes flitting to Ebra for confirmation. âYeah?â
He shrugs, nodding. âNinety-eight percent, Jack-Off.â Cheech and the gang have been a terrible influence. How are you going to undo this?
âCâmon, EâŚâ You scoff, but nod as you turn around, arms crossed. Gesturing with the frother as you do. âWell, Iâll make note of that. Now back to the fuckinâ hand frother, Cheech?â
âI know how to crank it, Handyââ âI swear to fucking Godââ
âEy!â Tina comes up to your corner, smacking the back of Chi-Chiâs head with a hand towel when she does. âDonât talk to the baby like that, clean your mouth.â
He puts one hand on the back of his head, hissing, and another up in front of him, in defense. âEy, T, itâs all love, aright? Playing!â
âYeah well, youâre not gonna wanna play witâ this one. âSpecially not nowââ She nudges you, smiling that coy âIâm about to blow up your spotâ smile.
You grimace, attempting to interrupt her. âT, donâtââ âThat sheâs Jeffâs.â ââGoddamnit.â
âOh! Oh shit!â Cheech laughs, delightfully shocked. âYou finally closed on Charminâ? Congratsââ Itâs a blessing and a curse that Carmen, the guy you only ever saw in photos and heard in stories that you had a very minor and not vocal crush on, is now your⌠boyfriend? Undetermined.
You wave a hand in his face, âShut the fuck upââ
âSo where should I send flowers?â
You hate this family. âFor the record, I have not closed shit.â
âWhatâs closing?â Tina takes a half step back, surveying your face, it doesnât reveal anything. âWhatâs that? Gramps?â She turns her question on Ebra, who shrugs, equally as old and unknowing.Â
âWell Jack-Offâs a little Mother Mary for my tasteââ
You scoff, âSo not true, for the recordââ but Chi-Chi continues his tirade. âSo I suspect she just means they haven't had the âare we datey-wating carmy baby?â talk.â
You all but growl, crossing your arms as you wait for the second tutorial coffee to finish dispensing from the beloved whirring machine behind you. You can get the fuck out of here as soon as itâs done, and youâre praying thatâs soon, because this interrogation is about to turn terrible. âWe are currently unlabelled, if thatâs what youâre trying to say.â
Tina kisses her teeth, poking at your shoulder. âRichie told me you spent the whole wedding together and you come back with no label?â
You sigh, composure falling apart. You are not ready for a motherâs disappointment. âWe talked out a lot of important stuffââ âMija, that is important stuff!â
âI justâ Weâll talk eventuallyââÂ
Chi-Chi conveniently interrupts you when it looks like Tinaâs about to go off into a full rant on the downfall of romance in modern relationships. âSo youâre still on the market, Handy?â
âFor you?â You smile, then drop it. Pushing your hand against his forehead. âNever. Now froth the fucking milk.â
He mumbles an endless series of expletives, but gets to work. You give him a quick tutorial on the hand frotherâ You fought hard for the old machine, but you are overjoyed to see an automated steamer and frother on that Ascaso. That part is gonna be a dream. You can make so many new drinks for Carmâ The menu.Â
When you finish, you take the latte from Cheech to hand to Tina; and when you do, you catch her looking⌠off. Sheâs staring at the piled up diner baskets, next to the unused napkin dispensers.Â
You put your hand on her shoulder, massaging it lightly. âYou good, T?â
Your hand shocks her back into reality, âYeah, yeah, Iâm good, baby.â It takes her a second to remember where she is. She takes the latte, nodding. âIâm good. You good?â
âIâve got my complaints.â You shrug. âBut nothing I wonât survive.â Probably.
Tina takes a sip of her coffee, continuing to nod. She wants to dig deeper into your thing, you want to dig deeper into hers, but the painful groaning from the front of the kitchen, âAnd when did I fuckinâ greenlight this?â interrupts both your trains of thought. Uncle Jimmy tends to have that effect.
With a knowing nod, you walk together to the front, leaving Ebra and Cheech to continue experimenting with the coffee machine before they open their side of the restaurant.Â
You watch from the sidelines as Carmen defends his choices, âThe old one was shit, she was burning her hands on it. Sheâll need the three groups to keep up.â and youâre able to quickly glean theyâre talking about the new espresso machine.
âOkay, I hear that,â Jimmy nods, âbut why the fuck did it need to be ten grand?â
âTen?!â You canât help but shout, you slap your hand over your mouth. Budget is none of your business. But fucking ten? You part your fingers to mumble through your hand, âSorry, continue.â
Carmen cares too much about your drink menu. Berzattos tend to invest too much into your special interests. Though this time, instead of syrups, and in addition to a 10k coffee machine, you see on the stainless steel table your shared sketches laid out alongside all the ingredients neededâ Including the concentrates, whips, and other compounds Carmen made ahead of time for you. Heâs so sweet. God, you love him. God, thatâs disgusting. They have all, of course, been haphazardly shoved aside though, to make room for The Computerâsâ Computer. Carmyâs nonplussed by that fact, it seems.
Jimmy gestures to you, deadpanning to Carm. âSee, Chip understands the power of the dollar.â
âIâm not involved.â You add, waving your hand, itâs a terrible moment for your favouritism to shine through. Though you do enter the radius of this trainwreck of a quarterly review, kneeling down by the kitchen island to finish what you started with the plexiglass and hinges. âIgnore me, continue.â
The men stand on either side of you, as you bolt down the hinges. Carmen brushes off the dollar comment with a simple, âItâs the best.â
Why do you need the best? You think; Jimmy concurs with your brain, speaking for both of you. âWhy do you need the best?â
The question seems to make no sense to Carmen. He freezes, blue-screening. âCauseââ
You duck your head under the counter at just the right momentâ Or just the wrong moment? Because you donât get to see Carmen looking down at you, then back up at his uncle. âBecause.âÂ
You donât see Uncle Jimmy practically roll not just his eyes but his entire body back into himself, witnessing the puppy love that is going to ruin his credit score. âChipâŚâ
When you slide yourself out from under the counter, Carmen puts his hand on the edge of the counter to make sure you donât hit your headâ Because you have an awful tendency to do so. Youâre too focused on the way Uncle Jimmy says your name like youâre in trouble to notice though. âWhatâd I do?âÂ
âYouâre you.â Jimmy grimaces, shaking his head. Itâs not your fault. Not completely. âF-Y-Iâ Your boss just cut your bar budget by ten grand.â
âHm.â You squint, lips in a line. âAnd what do I do if the budget I was planning was just ten grand?â
âWell respect yourself more than that.â Cicero scoffs, arms crossed. âTake twenty, now youâre back to ten. Youâre welcome.â
âGenerosity knows no bounds.â You shake your head, laughing him off as you duck your head back under the counter. âThank you, Unc.â
âSorry, who exactly are we giving twenty thousand?âÂ
âOh fuckââ Despite Carmenâs best efforts, you still manage to bump your head on the roof of the counter, alarmed by the new voiceâ The Computer, you assume. âFuckinâOwâ Sorry! Yâknow what, holâ on, let me just finish up hereââ
âItâs the drink budget. Tonyâs the new mixologist.â Natalie answers for you. âAnd sommelier.â
âAh,â hums The Computer. âSheâs the one weâre paying Quarter-Master for?â
âNah, thatâs me.â Gary strolls by, calling out to wherever his manager has gone, âRichie, you find that book yet?!â
âIâm taking them too!â You finally pop your head out from underneath the counter, finished bolting in the hinges. âApparently I need actual W-S-E-T certification and a bunch of memorized google searches, youtube videos, and wine review blogs do not legally make you a sommelier.â
âI think itâs impressive you made it this far on basically nothing.â Syd taps the top of your head, sheâs the one who made the call on schooling. She looks to her co-owner. âClasses are coming out of the advanced.â
âSo is this.â You tap the plexiglass, nodding up to Carmen as well. âYouâre workinâ with like⌠A thousand left for pre-paid work?â
âHm.â Carmen nods, looking at The Computer, and you turn your head to him too. âDid you account for that?â
âDid I account for a thousand dollars?â
Carmen shakes his head like a white flag immediately, hearing the sarcastic tone, âAlright, you donâtââ
âA thousand dollars does not take you out of the hole, man.â Heâs right, but you donât love the tone. He tilts his head, reading something off his screen. âPayroll is a little high, for a somme.â
âI donât disagreeââ You try to say, because yeah, your contract does have a weirdly high salary.
But Jimmy, Nat, and Carm all speak over you. âItâs not.â
âThatâs not pay for a somme, thatâs a pay for Chip, you donât need to enhance on that.â Jimmy deads the topic then and there. âYouâll see. Just trust me. You were sayinâ somethin about tiny plants?â
âMicrogreens.â Says Syd.Â
âYes. Do less of that.â
And you just watch, from the sidelines, as this crew flows into a bit of a repetitive weâre doing this, which gains the response, well stop. Do less, charge more, figure it out, duh, donât duhâ Whatâs that youâre hearing about a daily changing menu? Carmen seems to be the only one campaigning for it. At a point he just starts pacing, pointing at numbers on The Computerâs screen that he doesnât understand but pretends he does.
Youâve got a million ideas, but itâs none of your business. It very literally isnât your business, until Jimmy turns his head just so, grimacing at the non stop debate, to see you standing aside, arms crossed.
He sighs, beckoning you to the table, like itâs a witness stand. âWhatâs that fuckinâ face on your face, kid?â Oh, for the love of God, why are you so easy to read?
You pfft, shrugging. âIâm not makinâ a faceâ!â But you come forward nonetheless as he boldly speaks over you.Â
âYouâre makinâ a face,â â âThis is just what I look like,â â âYâknow how I know youâre makinâ a face?â â âEnlighten me.â â âCause itâs the same fuckinâ faceââ
He takes this moment to point at the face on your face. âThat your dad makes.â A man that gambles as well as Cicero is a man that knows your dadâs tells. And a man that knows your dadâs tells is a man that knows your tells.Â
You bite down on your inner cheek, poorly pretending to be confused, shrugging again, âI dunno what youâre talking about.â
âCome off it.â âIâm not on anything, Uncââ âYouâve got a problem, say it.âÂ
âI donât have a problem!â You have a lot of problems, but they canât know that. That makes you judgy and pushyâ You donât know enough about the business to have an opinion. âIâm just observing, thatâs all.â
Uncle looks up, to Heaven, to Mikey, and sighs the worldâs heaviest sigh. It sounds painful. When he finally tilts his head back down to you, itâs to say, âC-K.â
âCicero.â
âYâknow why Iâm able to pour mas queso into this fuckinâ kid?â He loosely gestures in the direction of Carmen, who in response seems to bite down a lot of venom. Itâs bad to think heâs pretty when heâs annoyed, isnât it?
You tilt your head, âHonestly, I always assumed some sort of mob association.â
Jimmy holds back his laughter, it comes out as a disgruntled cough. He shrugs. âItâs because when I saw your dad at the table, makinââ âHe gestures to youâ âThat fuckinâ face, I knew to pull back.â
âYou donât need to pull back.â Your reply is a touch too panicked and instant for anyoneâs liking, makes it a little less believable. But Cicero smirks, and you know that face as well as he knows yours. Check. Heâs got you.Â
âThen speak on it.â And he pushes you forward, just slightly, like a slap of support on your back. You grimace, looking to Carm and Syd for permission to have opinions, and they both nod, like itâs obvious. With great hesitation, lips pressed together, you finally allow yourself to come off as judgy, opinionated, a fixer.Â
âI think the chargers are kinda stupid.â
A plate no one eats off of, that they still have to clean, thatâs on top of another plate? Definitely super necessary. Definitely not some rich people NOMA bullshit.
You look to Syd, apologetic. She shrugs, open mouthed, head tilted, âIâ I mean, I didnât invent them.âÂ
âItâs presentation.â Carmen nods, to himself. He doesnât like to budge. âThat first look at the table affects everything.â
âYes.â You nod, directly across the counter from him. âI agree, I just think the plates are stupid.âÂ
âYou got somethinâ better?â
âThink so.â You hum, tilting your body back to yell to the back of the restaurant. âAy, Cheech! Pass me a fuckinâ basket!âÂ
Itâs without hesitation that you hear, âHut!â before even seeing the man. You see the blue basket being hurled towards you before you see the man. You catch it, albeit a bit clumsy, but you catch it.Â
You toss the basket on the table. Everyone stares. You defend yourself before anyone even criticizes it, âEasier to clean than plates, because you just need to rinse the plastic. Ties together a colour scheme, costs nothing, theyâre gonna be tossed anyways.â
âIt looks cheap.â Carmen tuts, but he really does seem to be trying to hear out the idea, despite his reservations.Â
âIt looks purposeful.â You double down, leaning on the counter just so, âIt carries a story, that we didnât forget where we started.â
âOoh.â Marcus, clocking in just in time, hums behind you. âKind of a bar, Chef.â
âThank you, Chef. Morning, Chef.â You fist bump him over your shoulder, not looking. Too focused on convincing the man before you, you let him think in silence for some time before asking. âThink on it?â
âNo.â Carmen shakes his head, and youâre a little crestfallen, for a second. âItâs good. Letâs do the baskets, yeahââ He then remembers to ask for permission, he turns his head to Syd, âYeah?â
âYeah? Oh, uh. Yeah. Yeah. Baskets are good.â Syd nods to Nat. âCan you look into, uhââ
âReturning the expensive as fuck earthenware shit? Happily.â Nat is far too cheery upon receiving a paperwork rabbit hole of a mission. She brushes past you, excitedly whispering, âPlease keep going.â
âOh, uhââ Are you some sort of thought leader now? âWell, uhm, I think I heard you sayinââ âYou snap your fingers at The Computer, âThat R and D cost is a little high?â
âA lot high.â He corrects.
âKid with crayons.â Jimmy tuts, âNeed to pull back a little.â
Carmenâs screwing and unscrewing the cap of a mason jarâ Marmalade, itâs for Sydâs drink. He made it this morning, itâs labelled down to the minute. Just let him work on his fucking drinks menu, please God. Heâs been dying for this moment and itâs being thrown off by this bullshit.Â
He canât keep biting his tongue, âHey, uh, why donât you just tell us to do everything a little bit less so we can skip this and get back to work, huh?â
You hear Uncle Jimmy inhale as preparation to verbally beat Carmenâs ass. You put one hand up in front of the old manâs face, the other hand grabs a dry-erase marker. âHe didnât mean it like that and he apologizes, Unc.â
âDoes he now?â
âHe does.â You drop your hand, focusing on lifting the glass panel, clicking the locks in place to keep it up. You nod to Carmen through the pane. âRight, Carmy?â
Poor Carmen nearly deflates, â...Iâm tryna be the guy.âÂ
âNot what the guy does, baby boy.â You hum, uncapping the marker with your teeth. You turn your head to Cicero. âGuy had a lapse, he forgot you were his boss and just thought of you as family, so he spoke to you like family, cause he loves you, Unc.â
Cicero nods, tilting his head just so at Carmen. âSâthat right?â
Carm manages to shake his head and nod all at the same time, âSâa facet.âÂ
â....Well, just donât do it again.â A crisis is averted and an uncle is softened.Â
âI love to see a family come together.â You hum, nonchalant, writing on the glass, âR & D - Cost: Badâ
âBring it from bad to good.â The Computer notes very helpfully. âYou can cutââ
âHolâ on.â You put your index finger up, effectively shushing him, âJust think about it first. We donât have to go straight to cutting. Letâs look at our options.â
âYour options are fucked.â
âJustââ You tut, rubbing the bridge of your nose, man, you really are becoming your dad right now. Loosen your grip, Jack. âWiden the scope. We cut costs through returning those chargersâ How else can we âreturnâ shit? Carmy?â
Thank God youâre the guy, because Carm canât hack it. âHeard? Yes?â And frankly, he doesnât want to.
âWhatâs the main cost on R and D?â
âSupplies. Foodâ Yâknow, lot of trial and error.â He nods to a bus tub filled with failed attempts over this morningâs session. But you like that, right? âTrying new things, yâknow?â
â...Carmen.â He doesnât answer, because he can hear heâs in trouble. He is staring at you stare at the tub in what seems like a sort of contemplative, serene, searing anger. âSweetheart, are those four wagyu filets in a fuckinâ bus tub?â
âYes, itâs got a blood orange reduction, butâ But Syd suggested mintââÂ
You donât let him finish, âIs it poison?â
âItâs not.â âItâs edible?â âIt is.â âOkay, so then, babydoll, why is it not being eaten?â
Syd winces from the sidelines, hissing under her breath, fist over her mouth. Carmen cannot help but notice. Youâre perhaps⌠a dash upset.
âWe canât eat everything.â âDid you offer it to the crew?â âYeahââ âYou offered it to Nat, Unc, Cheechâ All the servers? Or did you just offer it to the cooks?â â...Heard.â âDid you take a bite of all of these?â âNot all.â
You start writing on the glass again, explaining as you do, âOkay. So then uneaten food from R and D should be sold on one of those fuckinâ food waste appsâ Too Good to Go, or somethinâ. We advertise it to The Beef regulars, try to get the other side of our city to understand the finer things, prevent any brick through window incidents, how we feel âbout that?â
You remember small things far too well. You did make note of the rich people shit getting on The Beef customers' nerves. You make note of the people who live on your block, who cannot afford to eat here. You make note of the fact that Carmen resents subtracting with a passion now, so you find another way. He can still try new things, just needs to handle the results better.Â
â...You keep a binder or somethin?â Is all Carmen can think to ask.Â
âSteel trap memory.â You tap the cap of the marker to your head, âGood though?â
He nods, âGood.â
âGood.â You take a breath, dragging a hand down your face, practically coming out of a fugue state. Carmen knows your need to have something to do, just as much as him, so he slides the jar of fig marmalade to you from across the table. You take it happily, unscrewing the lid. Youâve also been dying to get to this menu.
But Richie comes up from behind, scratch and sniff wine book in handâ Didnât Mikey get you that? It was meant to be a gag gift but itâs actually quite useful. âChip, can you also tell Chef Carmen the daily menu fuckinâ sucks?â
âRe-lax.â You sigh, pulling over all the ingredients and tools you need for Sydâs drink. âSyd told me âbout this though, daily pre fixe, or whatever itâs called?â
âItâsââ Carmen crosses his arms over himself, immediately defensive but trying his best not to be. âItâs an idea Iâm floating, for nowâ Itâs what the best restaurants do, andâ And even if we donât have full intent on getting a star, right now, itâs still important.â
âI just thinkâŚâ You hum, trying to figure out the most delicate way to say it. âIt doesnât exactly give you the most room to collaborate or createââ
âThe whole point of it is to collaborate and createââ
âOh yes,â âAs if waiting in the wings for this, Richie pops out behind you again, âWhat wasssit? âVibrant Collaborationâ and âConstantly Evolve Through Eating My Own Head like a fucking ouroborosâ.â
âRelax.â You hiss this time, putting a hand up in front of Richie. You can speak for yourself. âYou donât have time to be creative or collaborate when youâve gotta make decisions in less than twelve hours.â
Carmen tries to defend, he gestures to the one good plate of wagyu with mint that came out of this morning, âBut theââ
You nod and hum, knowingly. The sweet sound stops him. You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, as you scoop fig marmalade into your cocktail shaker. âDid you get to try the pop rocks thing yet?â
âWell, no, itâs not viable to perfect that in suchââ
âA short amount of time, angel?â
âOoohâŚâ Richie mimics Sydâs movements, air whistling between his teeth as he takes a sharp breath. He gestures, standing behind you, staring at Carmen as he slides his thumb across his neck. He mouths, âMad mad.â
Carmenâs two closest friends are freaking him the fuck out and one of them wasnât even doing it on purpose. How do they know that? How can they tell that? Are you gonna break up with him? Are you even dating? This work together thing was a terrible ideaâ
âYou donât have time to be thoughtful about things, if you do an entire menu every day, youâre gonna have to cut corners on what youâre willing to experiment with.â You reword, more productive, better for his brain. âPlus, prix fixe is a fuckinâ InâIn my opinion, is sort of a lacking idea, maybe, for a new restaurant.â
Carmenâs willing to give up the daily rotation, heâs not so willing to give up the pre fixe. âItâs what the best restaurants do.â Carmen loves the word best, huh?
âHave those restaurantsââ You bite your tongue from what was going to be an immediate catty response.
You try again, measuring out orange liqueur and lemon juice as you do so. âYouâre thinking like a Chef and you need to think like a customerâ A- A guest, for a second.â
Carmen gives you the floor, mostly because he cannot compute the command. You continue, âLetâs do a little roleplay, alright? Letâs say weâre just average people, not workinâ at The Bear, and weâre goinâ on a date.â
âWhen?â â...When?â âWhen is the date?â âNo, Iâmâ Itâsâ This is hypothetical.â âYeah but in the hypothetical.â
You shrug, clicking tongs together as you grab large chunks of ice for your shaker. âI dunno, Friday nights? We have like a Friday night date night.â
âOh, so youâre doing good.â Richie hums, proud of this hypothetical you, âWeekly date night is a cornerstone.âÂ
âMoving on.â You elbow Rich behind you, shaker sloshing in hand, âIâm not a foodie, you areâ In this hypothetical. Youâre looking around at restaurants in the area for the date, you find The Bearâ You find through their website with an improper hyperlink that the menu is,â âYou list off on your free handâ âprix fixe, unavailable online, and changes daily so you canât go off of reviews either. Also, itâs a new place, so you canât really ask around for opinions.âÂ
âRight.â Carmen nods, as does Syd. Uncle Jimmyâs got that stupid smirk he gets when he sees his kids fall in line. You pour the ouzo over the ice, focus on the drink, not Carmâs mopey expression.Â
âSo, we probably wouldnât go, right?â
Carmen keeps nodding, eyes downcastâ Not upset, just canât take feedback without keeping his head down. âProbâly not, yeah.âÂ
You pound the shaker shut, shaking it lightly in one hand as you try as hard as you can to sweetly explain. âPeople are open to like, two surprises on an outing. New place, new foodâ But they will need a set menu and they will need to have it available beforehandâ And theyâll need to be able to choose.â
He looks like a cat in the rain, so you add, âBut. Maybe we can do a daily special? Or weekly, depending on burnout, but like, yâknow, a semi-frequent one new thing. And maybe on like, Valentines or some holidays we do a fresh prix fixe. Thatâs how some of the best places do it.â
Carmenâs eyes upturn, smiling with them, at that last part. âYou do keep a binder.â
âSyd does. I just pay attention.â You shake your head. âShe mumbled about it all night when we got back.âÂ
Adamu is immediately aghast, she shouldâve realized ages ago, you were practically quoting her. âYou said you couldnât hear me!â
âNo, I said you werenât bothering me, and you werenât.â You canât hide your smile as you break the seal on the shaker. Syd sucks at sharing her ideas, but youâre happy to act as a good mouth for her good brain. âHand me a lowball.âÂ
With a grumble, Syd walks off in search of the lowball; while everyone does seem to agree this is best practice, Carmen does still seem a little sore about it.
âItâd probably also serve us well to do a seasonally rotating menu, right?â And so you throw him a bone. âLike Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall? Base it on whatâs in season with local vendors?â
âWhat grows together goes together.â Tina says, nearly sing-songy. âFarmerâs market is rough though, Jeff.âÂ
âFuck a farmerâs marketâ With love, fuck a farmerâs market.â Back to writing on plexiglass you go. âWe gotta do vendors, maybe fâ like, eggs and dairy we can do farmerâs market, but itâs just not feasible. Maybe for holiday pre fixe or daily specials? But full stock, itâs just notâ Itâs not it. And I say that while having farm fresh eggs and local honey in my pantry, alright?â
Carmen agrees, like a bobble-head this guy. He nods to Tina. âThat cool with you, T?â
âYeah, yeah, thatâs cool with me.â Tina is a millisecond off to pipe in, which is really not noticeableâ To anyone but you, that is.
âWhyâsâ Why would T not be good with that?â
âSheâs in charge of farmerâs market.âÂ
âHm.â You bite the end of the dry-erase marker. âT, would you be cool with rotating that, now and again?â
âOoh?â She tilts her head, shrugging, âYeah, yeah, kid. If you wanna take the reins.â
âNot me.â You return to scribbling on the glass board. You point at Carmen and Syd through the glass. âThem.âÂ
âIâve paid my sous chef dues.â Says Syd, returning to the table with your glass. You tut, shaking your head. You refocus your vision from your writing to beyond the plexiglass, at them.Â
âYou need it for inspiration! You fuckers keep forgetting you like cooking, I need you to visit the farmerâs market once in a while to remind you.â You take the lowball glass and tong a few ice cubes in. âNon-negotiable. Heard?â
A soft, simultaneous, âHeard, Chef.â from your cats.Â
âGood.â You strain the mixed concoction out of the shaker, into the lowball glass. Itâs a very pretty peachy pink. You tweezer a slice of dried fig and place it on top. You grab a toothpick, stick it down the glass, pull it out, and taste the toothpick. Balanced, solid flavour, should be good.
You slide the drink over to Syd. âI canât drink everything obviously, so first dibs goes to whoever the drink is based onâ I donât care who drinks it, just let me know if it goes down smooth.â
You also in turn hand Syd the recipe card and sketch, and youâre quick to move on as she reviews and sips away.
Ouzo. Dry anise tasting spirit. Itâs got a licorice aftertaste, but oddly sweeter for it. Itâs strong. Resilient. Itâs made from remnants of unfermented wine grapes and a mix of other distilled and unused spirits. Better than the sum of its parts. It goes well with figs. Muddle it together with fig marmaladeâ Sweet yet earthy, spring-like. Orange liqueur to marry the flavours, lemon juice to brighten. Shaken, pour over ice into a lowball, serve with a dried fig on top.
Syd manages to reserve her reaction to a slow but repetitive nod, like entering deep space. She only comes back to reality when Richie reaches for the drink, wanting to try. Sheâs quick to pull it away from him, coveting the glass.Â
âAh⌠what else? Rapid fire.â You knock your head around, remembering what The Computer talked about, and in quick succession, you line up every problem and talk through them, possibly solve themâ As best as a newbie can. At the very least, you open the floor to actual discussions as you make drinks all the while.Â
âOpening a full sixth day I think will shoot us in the long run, especially if we ever get a kitchen plague going. Maybe we just open for half the day on Mondays going forward, try out breakfast? Stop booing me, Iâm right.â
Richieâs. Also served over ice in a lowball. Itâs similar to a whiskey smash. Nixing the mint. Whiskey bourbonâ A good one, but not too good that itâs a sin to mix. Something with a cinnamon spice, that's warm all the way down, but never burns. Water it down a bit by stirring peach juice over the whiskey with ice for a brief moment. Float blueberry syrup on top. Add a toothpick, spearing two blueberries and one peach halve, balance it over the glass, for stirring. So the drinker can mix the blueberry syrup in and have a cute colour changing experience.Â
âWine pours, me and Gary got that. We can also just start charging by the bottle by defaultâ Whatever works.âÂ
Marcusâ. Simple but effective. A rum and coke ice cream float. Made complex by the fact that the ice cream is on a rotating schedule, based on whatever Chef Brooks is feeling that night and whatâs in stock. Right now? Pistachio. So tonight itâs actually rum and seltzer, and it will probably continue to be rum and seltzer, based on the way Marcusâ eyes light up by the opportunity to get weird. More often than not, youâre going to need that neutral base. Served in a milkshake glass, because what else?
âI donât understand why I couldnât just grow these microgreens myself in house. Theyâre just plants you murder early, are they not? Am I missing something?â
Tinaâs. Varied take on a spiked agua fresca. Fresh blended mango agua frescaâ With ginger, of course. A healthy kick is a necessity for a mom drink. Sweetened with simple syrup, spiked with white rum, dash of agave bitters, top with coconut water. Served in a tall glass, because why would you skimp on portions?
âWhy are we shipping flowers from New York? No, fuck that, go to Violetâs Violetsâ I fixed her cooler once, she falls in love and gives a discount to literally anyone whoâs nice to her. Just send Marcus with some dessert and youâll be set for life.â
And of course, Carmenâs aperol spritz. You go with the cherry syrup rim for now because itâs important to try. Youâre almost certain itâs too much though.
âNapkinsâŚâ You rub your icy cold handsâ From shaking up so many goddamn drinksâ Over your eyes. âWhy are we renting?â
âBuying is insanely overpriced.â Answers Computer.Â
You nod, shrug, but nod, fingers tapping the glass, âWell, itâs like renting over owning right? It might be better to own because, yâknow, you might suddenly get told by your napkin vendor, like, like years down the line, after basically paying for these napkins in full through rent, âhey, actually, weâre gonna jack up prices or just take those napkins backâ even though youâve âagainâ Literally had them for yearsââ
âChippy, are you good?â Richie tries to massage your shoulder, tries to break you out of the doom spiral, but admittedly, it was never his forte. Still isnât.Â
âWeâ!â Your voice hangs and is grating in a way it usually isnât, ignoring the question. âWe can produce our own napkins if we buy linens by the yard and hem âem ourselves. Weââ You snap your fingers a couple times at Carmen, praying he backs you up. âWe can even get The Bear monogrammed on them.â
âThat sounds niceâŚâ Itâs Carmenâs turn to ease you off the ledge of insanity, gently. âIt also sounds expensive, were you gonna do that?â
âFuck no.â Youâre quick to shake your head. âI fucking suck at sewing, my own jumpsuit is covered in my bloodâ No, myââ Oh. âHold on.â
Your hand immediately goes for your back pocket, quickly pulling your cell-phone out, and dial one of your first starred contacts. Richie, over your shoulder still, sipping his blueberry and bourbon cocktail, excitedly mumbles. âOh, put it on speaker.â
Youâre annoyed before heâs even answered, knowing the headache youâre about to get. âTrust me, the first thirty seconds minimum will not needââ
âHey!â Itâs impossible to convey how earth shatteringly loud and drawn out his voice is, immediately upon answering. There may be eight seconds of the sustained vowel? Maybe more. Almost everyone flinches, par for Syd, Carm, and Rich. Though for all different reasons.Â
A touch grating, in the same way your voice just was. Like father, like occasional daughter, you suppose. âHey kiddo baby darling sweetheart angel princessââ Oh, heâs mad. The whole âslew of nicknames when youâre pissed offâ thing? Yeah, that didnât start with you. âDid someone die? Because thatâs the only reason my darling baby only daughter calls anymore!â
You sigh, immediately exhausted, putting your weight on one leg. âYâknow, once a month is honestly a lot of times a year for a fully grown woman to call their dad, on average. I absolutely call you more than my friends call their dads.â
Richie almost chokes and whispers over your shoulder, hesitant, internally preparing for a dreadful future. âPlease tell me thatâs not true.â
âOh, and you should be so lucky that you have a dad to call! Cause I bet those friends are calling funeral homes, arenât they?!â
âDadââ
âI should have never taught you independence. Worst mistake of my life to teach you how to be your own person. Richard, never teach your kid how to use a screwdriver, it will be the last day you are a father.â
âNoted, Big C-K.â Richie goes for your dry erase to actually write it down, you pull it away from him. Thatâs gonna require a long talk down later.Â
Carmen mouths to you, across the table, he meant to ask earlier when Cicero said it but there wasnât time. âC-K?â
You mouth back, gesturing to the logo on your very own flannel âChicagoâs Kindest.â Heâs not the best with acronyms.Â
âOhâ And thank you for bringing that up! And whatâs this I hear about you cutting your hours with C-K? I hear this from Tony of all people âfore I hear it from you?â
âI got a long-term bartender gig thatâs actually gonna keep my bills paid, alright? And I like it. Putting that mixology double trade major to good use. Ciceroâs got stock in the place, actually.â
âHow you doinâ C-K?â Cicero pipes in next to you, waiting for his moment.
âAh⌠Iâve got my complaints. For one, my Jack keeps you more company than me!â
Thereâs a series of hums and haws, that weird uncle secret language of heavy exhales that manage to say more than any actual words they could say.Â
You let the heaving run its course for ten seconds before cutting it short with, âAnyways, Iâm still gonna keep the business running, just only in the mornings. Itâs not like I brought in that much business anyway, Iâm not pulling a foundation.â
âEverytime a small business dies, a rich man laughs, Jack!âÂ
âItâs not dying! Itâs alive! Itâs present and alive!â Donât get flashbacks. âAnyways, speaking of small businesses, I need a favourââ
âOoh, the truth comes out, princess calls cause she needs bailââÂ
âFor the love of God, let me get through a sentence, Pops!â You grumble, continuing. âRemember that overpriced monogram machine you bought for no reason?â
âIt was not for no reason, it was invaluable because it saved my mitts from hand embroidering all those logosâ And andâ you have to rememberââ You mouth the words along with him, mimicking him, because you know exactly what heâs going to say, âthat it all starts in your communityâ And now you have like eight beautiful outfits, cause of me⌠And also itâs fun.â
âWell⌠If itâs fun, would you consider making some linen napkins?â
And it flows like ping pong, because your dad is a repairmanâ Well, former, but still. Heâs simple. He handles negotiations simple. So do you.
âFor who?â âRestaurant. The Bear.â âWhy?â âCause they need linen napkins.â âHow many?â
You look over your shoulder to Richie, he does the math in his head pretty quickly, âBout seventy to a hundred covers a night.â
âSix hundred.â âPay?â âWeâll pay supplies, and Iâll give you likeââ You look to Syd, expectantly. She has no answer, so you put your advanced on the line. âA thousand?â
âA thousand!? Less than a dollar a napkin! Is this pre-housing crisis?!â âI work here, okay?! Discount me!â âMy God, princess, are you in love with the owner or something?â
That world feels like it's choking, but that's probably just you. You blow hot air out of your mouth, looking anywhere but Carmen. Refusing to see him even in your periphery. Refusing to see his blue screened but ever so slightly expectant expression. Well? Are you? âŚOr something?
After a long moment, you find a way to avoid the question. âAhâUh, Syd co-owns the place.â
âOh, Adamu?!âÂ
Syd pipes in, leaning over the table. You hold the phone out for her. âHâHey, Mr. CK.â She waves, despite the fact that itâs a phone call.
âHey kiddo. Aw, what a sweetheart. Lead with her next time!â
âAlright!â You bring the phone back to your faceâ Itâs remained off speakerphone this entire time, but he continues to yell loud enough for the table. âI didnât realize you were best friends.â
âOf course we are. Yâknow she brought me this uhâ this salmon mushroom risotto the other night? Unbelievable.â
You squint at Adamu curiously, whispering. âYou bring my dad food?â
She whispers in return, defensive. âHe lives on my block, donât be weird.â
âFor her, Iâll do it for eight-hundred, okay kiddo? I know how tough it is to start up a business, canât imagine trying to move on top of that.â
Your turn to blue screen. Moving? Youâre immediately over the love thing. â...Pardon?â
â...Iâll do it for eightââ
âNoâ Yes, sorry, yes dad thatâs greatââ You arch the phone away from your face, focusing your attention on Syd. âSyd, youâre moving out?â
She sighs, âTrying to.â
âPops.â You straighten up, not looking away from her. âIâll call you back to sort details later, okay?â
âSure. You also need to let me know holiday plans, are we going up to Oak Park orââ
Somewhat disrespectfully, you speak hurriedly, âYeah, weâll figure it out, love you, bye!â and hang up. Still locked on Syd, you ask. âWhen you tryna move?â
âLike, soon as possible.â She stretches out her shoulders. âMy own dad is sort of⌠Encroaching on my space.âÂ
âRight.â Your eyes flicker with too many ideas, and youâre trying to temper expectations. âYou wanna live by yourself?â
âI mean, I donât really know anyone on the same timeline as me, with the same âlow budgetâ as me.â
The Computer attempts to interrupt the interruption of his review, holding a finger up, âAnd why are we talking aboutââ
But you hold the palm of your hand up, continuing on, âI need to move out asap and have a âlow budgetâ.â
Thatâs Carmenâs queue to chime in, he loves your place. âWhat happened?âÂ
Also Richieâs, âWhat? Chip, your spotâs like a historical site, ya canât move.â and this is generally agreed upon by a sea of dismayed voices.
âTo make an extremely long story short, I donât have a choice.â You wave your hand in the air, silencing murmurs. âMy sweet old lady landlordâ The only landlord Iâve ever respected, got bought out by a fuckinâ big business gentrification ass companyâ Iâm not in a rent controlled zone so theyâre gonna keep jacking the rent until I move out so they can tear it down and build a new spotâ They also may or may not have found out that me and Lorettaâ My landlordâ Havenât exactly been keeping up to date on my lease.â
âMeaning?â Carmen knows the answer will be bad.Â
But itâs somehow worse. âMeaning I pay my rent on time in cash and she texts me once a year saying âdo you want to keep living here?â and I say âyesâ, and we continue on.â
âWell, hold upââ Richie holds a hand up, like heâs a genius. âSquatterâs rights?â
âI thought about going that avenue, butââ You gesture to Syd. âIf youâre already moving, and looking for a roommate?â
She looks up and around, thinking about it. You decide to join her in the brainstorm, scooching yourself just an inch to the right, writing on free space on the plexiglass screen, âpros and consâ
âPro.â You murmur as you write. âI have a better credit score than you.â
Syd sputters, half sarcastic. âWell, thatâs just uncalled for.â
âItâll give you more options for places! Better ones! Ones with in-unit laundry!â You defend.
âIn-unit laundryâŚâ âYour eyes just lit up in such a sad way.â âCon. You are an ass.â
âThatâs a pro. A real con would be that I have a lot of plants and if I ever go on vacation Iâm gonna need you to take care of them, and Iâm not gonna have a binder for you, because I water them based on vibes, and if I come back and theyâre dying Iâm gonna be pissed off and very passive aggressive about it.â
âViolently honest.â âPro. Mostly direct. Aside from when Iâm not.â âCon. Iâm not direct.â
âCon. Thatâs fine but if I get the idea that youâre mad at me Iâm gonna act really weird about it until you reassure me that everything is okay and you donât want to throw me out the window.â
âYeah. Con. Same.â
âPro. Iâve lived by myself for a while, which is good to have when youâre moving out of your parents for the first time. Con. Iâve lived by myself for a while, and Iâm very used to the lifestyle of big t-shirt no pants, Iâm not giving that up.â
Now that one takes Syd a second to unpack, âBut, but like, underwear though, rightâ?â
âNo shit I wear underwear!â
âOkay! Itâs important to note!â
âDonât be weird.â Richie grumbles behind you, solidly directed at Carmen.
Whoâs whole face really just scrunches up in confusion. ââDonât be weirdâ? You donât be weird.â
âIâm not beinâ fuckinâ weirdââ âThen why are you up in my shitââ âUp in your shit? Oh wowââ âFully not what I was referencingââ âDonât be weird, cousin!â âI literallyâ I did not even moveâ Not a single cell in my bodyââ âAndâ And you only know that âcause you had to lock it down, you dogââ
âI donât remember having kids, why the fuck am I in a Kindergarden?â Uncle Jimmy interrupts.
âIâm just takinâ care of my boy, Unc.â Richie raises a hand in defense, feigning innocence. âCanât be too careful.â
âYou super can, and you super are.â You grimace, elbowing him again. âAnd also, not importantâ!â
âActually, no, very important.â Syd of all people interrupts. âNon-negotiable, like you canâtâ âŚLike youâ âŚWhen Iâm home itâs likeâ Donâtââ Ah.
You roll your eyes and save her before she just about breaks out in a feverish sweat. âSyd, I wasnât planning on it. Thatâs like roommate rule one.â
âSyd.â Richie points to his own eyes, then to hers, âwatching youâ. âDonât be weird.â
âWhat the fuckââ
âEveryone shut up, pros and consâ!â You shout, gaining the attention back. âPros. I have a car, we work at the same place, I have all the furniture for a living room already, you'd never have to wait for a landlord to fix something ever again, and I could probably do a bunch of D-I-Y renter friendly projects, if you wanted.â
â...Oh my god, a French-door pantry.â âI think I could swing that.â âPros. Youâll never have to cook again. I guess thatâs my only pro, actually.â
âCon. I have been feeding the cat on my fire escape for like a year and if Iâm moving I am going to have to adopt her, so weâre gonna have a cat. Sheâs cute, she has five toes on each paw. Something dactyl, itâs called.â
âWhatâs her name?â Squidâs not excited per se, but sheâs not saying no.Â
You shrug. âI never named her, letâs name her together.â
âNo, thatâs too much pressureââ âNo, youâll do greatââ âWhat do you mean Iâll do greatâ?â âThreeââ âOh like together together? No! Whatâ?!â âShut up, just do it, head empty, twoââ âNo! Iâm just not gonna say anyââ âYes you will, Squid. One!â
And together, perfectly in sync, like it was planned all along, you both say on queue, âCalamari!â
âThere we go.â You write âCalamariâ on the plexiglass. âThatâs my girlâ Thatâs our girl, actually. Iâm still not sure if sheâs a girl.â
You click your tongue against your teeth, knocking your head back and forth in thought as you look at the scribblings on the glass. âNon-negotiables?â
Syd leans forward on the table, chin propped up in her hands. âI need forty-five minutes of bathroom time at the beginning of the day.â
â...Do you have a fuckinâ lactose intolerance?â âItâs my me time!â âAlright! Fuckinâ fifty minutes of toilet time for Syd. Ah, I need east facing windows⌠and uhmâŚâ
Syd stares at you, and alas, she can tell, âYou have a big non-negotiableâŚâ
âItâs not that big⌠Itâs more a group thing than a roommate thing, reallyâŚâ âWhat is it?â âI think⌠It would be fun⌠If we all started playing Dungeons and DragââÂ
Thereâs an immediate, staggeringly loud array of groans, youâre still writing it down nonetheless, all the while defending, âI honestly think a little roleplay and math would fix you assholes! I really think it would! Iâll D-M, Iâll make it so easyâ Please?â
Syd grimaces, but inevitably nods. âYâknow what, youâre never gonna get a concrete schedule for that down, and no one else is gonna agree so yes, sure from me.â Still a win.Â
âOkay.â You hum, capping the marker. âSo⌠Aim to move first of February? You down?â
It takes some time, and you realize as Sydâs brain frozen, that you might be overstepping. âSorry, thatâs going too fast, you think on itââ
â...Iâm down.â You make it very easy for her to say yes, by giving her the option to say no. âYeah, letâs do it. February. Iâm down.â
âIâm so happy for you two, but Iâm still fuckinâ reelingâ Chippy, itâsâ itâsâ So many memoriesââ Richieâs being overly dramatic on purpose, hand on your shoulder, really laying on the vocal fry in his voice; but it is true. âI mean, come on, first time Iâd ever been stabbed was on your block.â
âSorry, what?â Carmen was having fun watching his two favourite employees figure out theyâd be perfect roommates. He loves to be a fly on walls around you more than heâd like to admit. Richie managed to ruin it with one line. âStabbed on your block?â
âYeah,â You suck the air between your teeth, trying to think of some sort of white lie, but slowly shake your head, âIâ Yeah, thereâs no real way for me to down play it, I was so fuckinâ scared.â
âYou were tweaking!â Richie laughs, clapping his hand against your shoulder, to him itâs a charming storyâ Youâd probably be laughing too, if Carmen didnât seem so⌠unpleased, letâs say. âYou fuckinâ thought I was gonna die!â
âYou fucking were!â You slap Richâs hand away. âIt was so close to a cerebral arteryâ First and last time Iâll administer stitches in my fucking kitchen, hand to Godââ
âWhatâs the story?â Oh, new face from Carmen you havenât seen before, bewildered annoyance, youâd describe it as, itâs going in your bottom five. âYou live in a bad neighbourhood?â
âItâs rusticââ You try, but Richie opts to speak on your behalf. âOh, Chip lives in a terrible neighbourhood, Cousin. Youâve been there, havenât you?â
âYeah but it didnât seem that badâ Noâ Hold on, go back, stabbed why?â
âSo I heroically defended a boy from crookedââ Richie tries, but you opt to speak on his behalf. âRichie was helping me bring up groceries, we saw some highschoolers shaking a kid down, Richie tried to break it up, one of âem stabbed him with one of those shitty switchblade comb things.â
âYou got stabbed by a kid?â Syd snorts, but immediately regrets it because she has perfectly set him up forâ
âYeah, and wouldnât be the last time, would it?â
âRichie, câmonâŚâ You reach up, patting the guyâs shoulder. âIt was an accident and she apologizedââ
Richie just raises his eyebrows, interrupting with a simple, âMm-mm.âÂ
And so yours raise in tow, â...Fuck you mean âmm-mmâ?â And your head turns to Syd, alarmed. âSyd, you apologized, right?â
Her mouth just sort of hangs, sputtering noises do come out of it, but nothing that strings a sentence together. You grow more agog, repeating again, astonished, nearly laughing from the shock, âSyd?! You apologized, right?! And told him it was an accident, right?â
Syd takes a beat, but she gets there. âIâ I. Am. Sorry I stabbed you by accident, Richie.â
âHm.â Richie crosses his arms, considering, mostly sarcastically. âYeah, Iâll take it, I guess. Wouldâve liked a card.â
âI am not getting you a card.â âIâm jusâ sayinâ Iâdâve liked one.â
Carmenâs still five steps behind, âAre you gonna be fine living there? In January?â
You choke back a laugh, because this is how men try to show they care, one must imagine. âIâve been fine for the past handful of years living there, I think Iâll be fine for another month, sweetheart.â
âCrime is bad in January.â
âI was a first responder, and I know thatâs not true.â You shake your head, shirking off laughter. âItâs actually in the summer that you see shit go down. Again, I will be fine. But you are free to visit.â
âPoint of order.â The Computer finally pipes up againâ Mightâve forgot he was here, if youâre honest. âWhat are we talking about anymore?â
âPoint of orderâ I feel like numbersâ Talking numbers is great but itâs all just likeâ Paper, yâknow?â You unlatch the plexiglass, gently settling it back down on the table. âWe should be talking more.â
Tina nearly whistles in agreement, nodding by your side. âHeavy that, Jeff.â
âThatâs what Iâm sayinâ, likeââ You snap your fingers to the rest of the crew, hand moving to and fro to point at everyone, âDid yâall know until right now that Syd was moving? âŚNo, right? Letâs likeâ Fuckinâ remember to check in, like yâknow, family, Chefs.â
And without calling her out, you can feel Tinaâs demeanor next to you change, relaxed.Â
âHeard, Chef.â Is the agreement from the crew, however, The Computer nor Cicero seem convinced, so with a sigh, you put on your most authoritative voice.
 âYâknow. Three Cs! Caring cuts costs!â A phrase no one has ever said, but it sounds legitimate when you put it like that. That gets them to acquiesce.Â
Thank God, Marcus helps you move the conversation along, â...Whatâs everyone doing for the holidays?â Alas for both of you, the silence is deafening. â...Or not.â
You volley back for him, âIf no one has hard plans I was thinking of having a lilâ Holiday party? Nothing big. Sort of a âgoodbye old apartmentâ party? Come by after you hang out with your families or whatever?â
âNot gonna go up to Oak Park?â Rich leans one arm on your shoulder, nursing his whiskey cocktail in the other.Â
âMeh.â You shrug, attempting to push him off you, but he doubles down. âWeâre not so intense about holidays since everyoneâs aged. Iâll visit my nephew on New Years.âÂ
âIâm doinâ Eve with Eva, but Iâll be free on the day. Iâll come by. We doinâ gifts?â
âI mean I got you something, so,â You tap the bottom of his glass as Rich takes another sip, making him flinch. âCatch the fuck up.âÂ
Syd pipes in, sniffing. âMe and my dad only celebrate on Christmas Eve now, so Iâll come.â
âIncredible. Two down.â You gesture to Marcus and Tina across the table. âYou guys? Tina I assume youâve got a loving family and shit?â
Tina smiles and nods, rightfully proud. âI do have a loving family and shit, but maybe Iâll come by late with them too?â
And Marcus tacks on with her, âIâm gonna be with my mom most of the night, but Iâll come through for a couple hours.â
âPerfect, perfect. Invites open to any plus ones as long as you text me first!â You hum, writing names down on the glass board. Itâs kind of a nightmare of different lists at this point. âRichie, can you make sure Fak and Sweeps get the invite?â
âYessir.â
âAnd us!?â Shrieks Cheech in the back, who really shouldnât be able to hear you, he should be in the zone, slinging sandwiches.
You yell back without turning to him. âYes, fucker, you and E can come, if you want! No fuckinâ plus one for you though!â
âOh come the fuck on, Jack-Off!â
âOh, make me a fuckinâ sandwich, big man!â
âOh, Iâll make you a fuckinâ sandwich!â
âOh, my dick!â A response that makes no sense, consistently the perfect bookend. You sigh, and finally, your eyes flit to the most terrified two in the room. âBerzattos⌠Holiday plans?â
âI think weâre gonna do dinner on Christmas Eve, and then the morning together? Well, I am.â Sug hesitates, sheâs looking between Uncle Jimmy and Carmen. âI was gonna ask what Carmâs plan isâŚâ
âIâll go. Iâll go.â Carmen has to stop himself from biting the skin off the tips of his fingers. âIâll go. And Iâll come to the party, after.âÂ
âIâll probably just go home with Pete after. Babyâs first Christmas, yâknow.â Natalie hums and nods awkwardly. Thereâs a question both of them want to ask. Neither of them are brave enough to ask it. And while you can sense thereâs something dancing in the air, youâre not going to overstep on this front.Â
âMazel. I can buy silly decor with reason now. âŚNow letâs talk about the important grievances.â You hum, happy to end that chapter.
You turn just slightly to gently slap Richieâs cheek as he stands next to you. âRich, you need to line your beard up, this neckbeard shit is pissing me offââ
âWhatâs with the fuckinâ drive by?!â âItâs been on my mind foreverâ You canât be wearinâ suits and then be rockinâ that unkempt shit, clean upââ âIâm clean! Iâm fucking clean!â âWho said? Who fuckinâ said? Cause I sure didnât!â âHowâm I sâposed to be lininâ my shit up every morninâââ âYou do not grow a beard that fastââ âOh fuck you, Iâm not fuckinâ Carmen, I grow a fuckinâ beard.â
Carmenâs just surprised to hear his name out of any name come up. âWhatâ Now thatâs a fucking drive by, what the fuck?âÂ
âIf weâre voicing grievances, Iâd like to voice my fuckinâ complaint with Captain Crash-Out over hereââ âWho the fuck is sublimating now?â âYouâre not usinâ that term correctly, cause youâre not integratedââ âI thought you two worked this out on the road trip!â âWe did!â
You only half regret starting this feud with the beard commentâ To be fair, youâre right. âThis is it working?âÂ
âThis is, in fact, it working.â Syd confirms plainly, her disappointment more than apparent. Rubbing the tips of her fingers to her temples. The fight is out of her, at this point.Â
âAlright.â You slap your hands together. âRichie, what is your complaint?â Are you just union rep now? You might be a union rep now.Â
âCarmen is fucking killing me.â The cocktail swishes and nearly spills as Richie points at the Chef, emphatic. âHe wonât change shit for guests!â
âNo substitutions!â Itâs almost cultish, the way Sydney and Carmen yell it out together.Â
Richie scoffs, head reeling back. âWhat happened to it beinâ about hospitality?âÂ
âI meanâŚâ You suck air through your teeth, squinting. âIf weâre sayinâ no substitutions, itâs no substitutionsâ Unless itâs like an allergy or sensory thingâ But even then, it shouldnât be like a major component getting replaced.â
âSee? See?â Itâs almost maniacal, rabid, how delighted Carmen is that youâre on his side. âFuckinâ thank you. This is why I loââÂ
Before Carmen can finish his sentence, Richie flails about to suddenly throw the peach and blueberry skewer from his drink at Carmenâ Not the pointed side, he doesnât want to stab the guy. Just wants to save him from running his mouth. The peach slice hits Carmâs chest as Richie stutters out, âF-Fuck you, fuck you, fine. No substitutionsâ What the fuck am I supposed to say then?â speaking over whatever syllables fell out of Carmenâs mouth, muddling them.Â
You cock your brow, but Carmen seems to quickly let the childish toss go, more than eager to move on. So you do too. â...Say some bullshit like, like, The Bear encourages âuhmâ explorative culinary experiences where you let your taste buds go beyond your limitations and comfortsâ So eat a fuckinâ mushroom, youâre not gonna die.â
âIf they donât like mushroomsââ âThen they shouldnât order it!â âHow hard is it to just fuckinâ switch it out!?â âSo hard! So hard! I think! I could guess!â
âI could do it.â
âCould you?â You cross your arms, leaning your weight onto one leg, pivoting to Richie. âOkay, roleplay, youâre Carmen, Iâm youââ Just as Richie opens his mouth, you hold your index finger to his lips. âI know you wanna be a bitch, Iâm askinâ you to just skip that part for me.â
His shit eating grin is only a little endearing. âHow am I supposed to be in character if Iâm not allowed to be a bitch?â
You clench and unclench your hands in the air, but let it go, opting to move on to your little thought experiment. âChef, patientââ Instincts never give out, huh? âChrist, patron doesnât want mushrooms in their anolini, I need you to sub it.â
âAh, well Iâm happy to do that for you, Host Richie, Iââ Heâs going to go into some scathing spiel, and you love the guy, but you have to rub dirt in the wound for the lesson to stick.Â
You speak over him, voice stern, âChef. In order to keep pace, I need you to make this call in fifteen seconds, what are you subbing it for?â
Richieâs head shakes back and forth as he scrambles to get his brain to work.âFuckinâ Fuckingâ Eggplant.âÂ
âEggplant?â You ask politely, tone unsure. Carmen asks it with you, tone ridiculing.Â
âItâs a sauce isnât it?â You squint, turning your head to the actual Carmen. âItâs like a really thick mushroom sauce stuffed pasta?â
He tilts his head from side to side, but nods. In gist, yes. âItâs a ragout. Low and slow cooked stewââ Carmyâs ready to rave about it and teach you every facet of the dish, but perhaps thatâs too romantic for a public setting. God, heâs weird about love. âWe keep it going on our back burners all dayâ It takes an hour minimum to make from scratch, you canât just sub it.âÂ
âYeah, wellâŚâ Richie stops himself short of getting snarky for no reason all over again, taking a second to think about it. âWell, I didnât know that. You didnât explain that shit to me.â
âI donât have time to hold your fuckinâ handââ Carmen stops short of getting catty when you give him a very soft and yet gutting disappointed look. He pinches the bridge of his nose, sniffing. âI canât explain why I do everythinâ I do when Iâmâ When weâre in a middle of a rush, I just need you to trust when kitchen says we canât do it. Trust that I thought it through.â
Richie has to control himself, has to make sure the corners of his mouth donât upturn just slightly, has to make sure itâs not clear that he is overjoyed that thereâs finally middle ground, canât get his hopes up. He nods. âI just wanna make everyone happy, yâknow?â
âI know. Youâreââ Carmenâs nose scrunches up for a second, God, heâs never had to say that he thinkâs Richieâs good to his face. And heâs not gonna start now, âEggplant would be a good sub, if we had time.â
Richie prods his tongue along the side of his cheek, thinking. âMaybe I could look into knowinâ restrictions faster and estimatinâ their orders, so you can have âem on deck?â
And Carmen does think thatâd be a waste of time, but heâs learning. He hears it out. âCould give it a shot, yeah.â
âSame team.â Richie reaches across the counter, and Carmen actually takes his hand, a quick dap. Civil.
âSame team.â First time youâve heard Carmen adopt your idiom; you canât help but smile, though youâre trying to hide it. Youâre too focused on arguably the two most important men in your life to notice the silent conversation Uncle Jimmy is having with The Computer, speaking solely through nods and exchanged glances.Â
Pay is for Chip. Cicero nods, and The Computer nods back. He gets it now. Pay is for Chip. Not just the mixologist, not just the sommelier, not just the repairman, not just the not-quite girlfriend, Chip. Youâre Chip. Youâre the cog, the piece. The grease between everyone.Â
Youâre the guy. Always have been, always will be.Â
The silent conversation and the warm feeling in the room is cut short though, by The Computer. âCan she deal with the butter thing?â
âWhat the fuck is the butter thing?â You immediately jump onto the case, when Carmen looks down and away from you, you frown, leaning in. âWhatâs the butter thing?â
Jimmy snaps his fingers at The Computer, he hands him an invoice, which is then handed off to you. Old Major Farms, Orwellian Butter, salted and unsalted. $11,268. You just. Stare. The math comes all too easy to your head. Worth a week?Â
âItâs the best.â Carmen repeats as your eyes remain worryingly unblinking. âItâsââ
âCarm.â Syd all but hisses, shaking her head in tight swivels, waving her hand around her neck for him to cut it. âMaking it worse.â
âAngel is like, the worst it can get.â Hums Richie. Recalling your barometer of anger. Recalling the times when Mikey would say âwhatâs the point of paying bills?â And youâd have to pull him aside. âCanât get much lower than that besidesââ
âLight of my life.â You look up from the paper in your hand, and both Richie and Sydney wince. Your voice is terrifyingly delicate as you nod over to the room behind you. âApple of my eye. Can I speak to you in your office, please?â
Carmyâd like to say no. â...Yeah.â But you already started walking before he even answered, so thereâs not much of a choice here. You head in by yourself, and thankfully, the door closes behind you, so Carmenâs got a second before he gets devoured.Â
He walks around the counter, and as he nears the door, Richie grabs his arm. He whispers as he hands Carmen whatâs left of his cocktail. âYou need to lock the fuck in.â
âI know.â Carm returns, shooting down all thatâs left of the lowball. Whyâs Richieâs the sweet one? Whyâd Carmen get the cough syrup drink? Thatâs not fair. Do you not think heâs sweet? âThank you for theâ Intercept.âÂ
Richie nods, heâs been unwillingly playing quarterback for Carmen since going to Rockefeller and seeing that goddamn giant tree and Carmen couldnât stop opening his big fucking mouth after seeing you under the star. âJust think with your brain, not yourââ
âDonât.â âWas gonna say heart.â âSure.â âDonât be weird.â
âI know itâs expensive.â Carmen gets it out before even fully closing the door behind him, âBut itâs normal prices, for high-end restaurants. I know itâs differentââ He stops short when he finally turns around from the closed door, to see you, holding your painting.Â
Itâs facing you, youâre reviewing it in your hands where you sit in the office chair; the brown wrapping paper freshly ripped and on the floor. Carmen still doesnât know whatâs on the piece.Â
âCarm.â You twist the piece around in your hand, turning it to him. He can see the nine squares. The Beef to The Bear. Mikey. âThis is not another restaurant.â
Carmen continues to stare, silently, though he takes a step closer, reaching a hand out to graze over the canvas. You keep going, clarifying. âWeâre not just another high-end restaurant. Weâre us. And so we should be doing things like us. Weâre the best, we donât need the stuff to be.â
He was with you until that last part. His pursed lips say as much.
âItâsââ You smack your lips together, haphazardly handing him the canvas, heâs very quick to grab it with both hands, not wanting it unstable for a second. âHold on, let me show you somethinâ â I think I left one in here.â
You roll the office chair back a bit, sinking down in the seat to reach far behind a tall cabinet; you have to pad your hand around in the dark nook for quite some time before you pull outâ A screwdriver. An oddly shaped one, at that.
â...Has that been here the whole time?â
You nod. âLike threeish years at least, I think I threw it back there while telling itâs origin story. Itâs part of the first set I ever got.â You grip the flat wooden handle. âItâs the worst screwdriver on earth, like, by far.âÂ
That gets a little chuckle out of Carmen. âYeah?â
âYeah.â You look up from it to him. âItâs a handmade set. Dadâs dad made it.â You awkwardly roll closer to him, he leans over, head next to your head as you both look down at it. âItâs got a flat wooden handle, made of poplarâ So not only is it fucking impossible to get a good grip on, itâs also so fucking slippery. Itâs part of a whole set, passed down from my grandpa to my dad to me.â
âSounds fucked.â
âIt is.â You laugh, and so does he. âItâs purposefully meant to piss you off.â You rub your thumb over the dent marks in the woodâ All from the times you threw it at somethingâ Including the very cabinet that it hid behind. âYou ever wonder why I took over the handyman gig, beinâ the youngest and all?â
Carmy shrugs, glancing from the screwdriver to you. âJust assumed you were the best.â
That gets another laugh out of you, and Carmenâs overjoyed by the sound. âYeah, Iâm probably the best. But thatâs only cause I kept up with it.â
You turn your head up to face Carmen again as you explain, âWhen our dad started bringing us to jobs as kids, he would make us exclusively use this set of screwdriversâ Sort of as a secret test. My brothers would get pissed off, as planned, and theyâd quit and cry. And I dunno, I guess Iâd cry and keep going? And I learned a couple tricks, eventually.â
âTricks?â
âLike.â You pull back in the chair and run your hand across the office desk. The corners of it are screwed into the metal cabinet below it. âItâs really good if youâre screwing from the top down.â Using it as an example, you start to unscrew it. âItâs balanced. And itâs really all in the gripâ Always loosen your grip with this one. Even if that seems counterintuitive.â
You get it to unscrew just fine with your loosened grip. âBut if that doesnât work, and you just canât get it to workââ You lift the screwdriver in front of his face, showing off the sides of the handle. He smirks at theâ âJust make your own grooves, itâll be easier to hold.â Tiny teeth marks.Â
âCarm.â You tap the handle to his nose as he zones in too much on it. âIâm the best repairman because I can work with anything. Youâre the best Chef because you can work with anything. You donât need the best when youâre the best.â
Heâs the best?Â
Heâs the best.Â
Heâs the best.Â
âI truly think you could make just as good a plate with Becel as this fucking Animal Farm butter.âÂ
Carmenâs the best. You think heâs the best.Â
Heâs gotta think with his head and not with his heart and not with anything else, either. Lock the fuck in, Carmen.
âI dunno bout all that.â He shrugs, bashful and attempting to hide it, trying to shake the praise off his back.Â
âWell I know âbout that.â You shrug back, âIâm actually kind of a genius, when it comes to knowing whoâs good and whoâs not.â
âI donât doubt that.â Carmy hums, and the sound is sweet without reservations. â...Painting is very good.â He nods to himself, on repeat, like a bobblehead. âOr I guess itâs less a painting and more a buncha photo transfers?â
âYeah.â You set the screwdriver aside on the desk. âMost of them I took.â
âTheyâre good. Itâsââ He pauses, tongue against his teeth. âItâs nice to see evidence he kept up, or somethinâ.â
You nod, seeing Carmenâs brain struggle to keep pace in real time. âWe took that one I think the day we talked to Uncle Jimmy about The Bear? Had to print out articles as proof we could make it workâ Or, that you could make it work, rather.â
Carmen sniffs, crossing his arms, hands in tight fistsâ Probably too tightâ where they hide. âYeah, kinda fuckinâ up my end of the bargain, hm?â The light laugh that follows is hollow.
âEh. You both did.â You smile, though itâs hesitant. â But at least youâre still here fixing it.â
Still here. Still fixing it. That is in essence, the piece. Carmen gets lost staring at the squares, so you speak as he does. âI was trying to like. I dunno, replicate your brain.â He can see it. The messy yet coherent, controlled yet chaos. The love. The grief. The progress. The home. You see him. He can see that you see him.Â
â11k for butter,â Carmâs head doesnât move but his eyes raise to you. âIs a week. More than a week.â
Ah. Carmen can see you too, see your thought process. The Ascaso, worth one of the worst weeks of Mikeyâs life. The fucking butter. Worth more than a week of Mikeyâs sobriety.Â
All you can do is nod solemnly. âIt is, yeah.âÂ
He nods back, tongue prodding his cheek. âThatâs too much.â
âIâd agree.â
âIâll switch to local.â You make it easy for him to fix his mistakes, by giving him the space to realize them.Â
âI think thatâs the right call.â You nod, smiling. After a moment, you reach for Carmen to uncross his arms, and when he does, you take his fist and uncurl itâ Your hand is a very soothing balm to the spots where he dug his nails into his own hand.
âLoosen your grip, Carmy.â
And so, he does. With a laugh and a look to high heaven, he loosens his grip. Really loosens his grip. Wellâ Not completely, heâs not going to say that, but he will say something that is just nearly as difficult but not quite. He'll bite down a little. Heâll make the grooves, for now, until his grip is good enough.
âCome to dinner with us?â
would you believe me if i said I had to rewrite a bit of this last scene because intially it went so rom-com and I was so disgusted when I reread it in the morning I had to stare at it in the subway ride to work like "what the fuck am I gonna do"
was this chapter good? God I hope so. I felt like with where we're going, it was kinda necessary to do Chip's onboard, set the stage for what work is like for her. I had to loosen my own grip with this one lmao. just allow myself to be a LITTLE messy. if it's bad, lie to me. tell me sweet little lies peach
DAD REVEAL THOUGH EH? MR CK!!! So much did happen this chapter. Chips on board! Squid Ink moving in together era commences! Christmas party!! Also. Would you believe me if I told you no shit syd was gonna move, she was planning it in S2, but I was planning this whole time for Ink to get evicted!! I want those fuckers to be roommates STAT!!!
anyways, i really hope i remembered to write down everyone that asked to be added to the taglist, i might've not. i'm very sorry if i didnt
oh also if you wanna be added!! send in your thoughts!! words for words baby, essay for essay cmonnn gimme ur character analysis!! (oh and also ask to be added, ofc)
@hoetel-manager , @fridavacado @sharkluver , @spectacular-skywalker , @silas-aeiou , @deadofnight0 , @sunbreathingstuff , @anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @blueaproncarmy @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @mrs-perfectly-fine @thefreakingbear @anytim3youwant
#carmen berzatto#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear hulu#the bear fx#the bear#the bear x you#carmen x reader#carmy x reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen x oc#carmy berzatto
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Mornings Like These - Jack Hughes
Another Jack, big surprise
Request please and thx
Enjoy
w.c: 1,005 (credit to gif maker)
Jack canât help but let a smile break across his face when he wakes up to find you wrapped comfortably in his arms, looking peaceful.
For a normal couple, cuddling at night is a given, but not for you two. Instead, itâs a rare occurrence because most times when Jack tries to initiate the intimacy when itâs time for sleep, heâs pushed away because you say that heâs a âfucking furnaceâ and âhas no self-control.â He really doesnât blame you for the first part because he does run a little hot, but the second part is beyond his control when youâre pressed up against a part of him that gets a little too excited whenever youâre near.
Jack gently brushes a bit of hair out of your face, and he quickly glances over at the alarm clock to see that itâs early. He then turns his focus back on you, who is still breathing heavily and looking serene, and it practically melts his heart. However, it is not enough to let you sleep because he is in desperate need of your attention.
He gently shakes you, and you let out a slight mumble. He stops for a second but then continues his attack. He shakes you a bit harder, and finally, you open your eyes, squinting a bit at him, adjusting to the light. Realizing who youâre with, you let out a hum, pushing yourself deeper into his hold and mumbling something into Jacks's neck that sends tickles up his spine.
âWhat was that?â Jack whispers, squeezing you further into his arms.
You remove yourself from his neck and peer up sheepishly at him, your eyes holding the weight of a thousand emotions.
âI said, I had a dream you were here. But normally, I wake up and get sad because youâre not.â
Jack's heart snaps at your statement, and he pulls you even closer, crushing you so hard you find it hard to breathe.
âI get those dreams, too; they suck.â Jack finally says, rubbing your back gently.
You chuckle a bit, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss to show you that heâs really here. That you both are actually together after so long apart.
He lingers there for a moment when he feels you pulling away before he can deepen it, and he feels himself chasing after your lips.
âCool it there, Casanova. I have to go shower.â You say, pulling away from him, wanting to get ready before Luke comes knocking at your door.
âI think you mean we have to go shower,â Jack states, hopeful.
You pause, knowing that his intentions are in no way innocent, and Jack puts on the sweetest smile he can muster.
âCome on, weâd be saving water.â He offers. âAnd I promise Iâll keep my hands to myself.â
You shake your head, not yet convinced.
âIâm not buying what youâre selling here, Hughes. The second you get handsy is the second you get thrown out, okay?â
A smile breaks across Jack's face, and he nods rapidly. âYou have my word, baby.â
He holds out his pinky finger, and you wrap your around it, laughing.
You waste no time moving to the bathroom, and soon enough, you both are stripped down to nothing and standing in the warm shower. Well, you're in the warm shower, and Jack is just there, getting splashed and enjoying the view.
He does keep his word and keeps his hands to himself, not wanting to be thrown out into the cold. He instead just focuses on washing his face and not letting his eyes wander down your figure too much because he doesnât want something unfortunate to happen.
Jack is practically gleaming when he gets through the fifteen-minute shower with no issues, and he even manages to steal a couple of kisses. As you both finish up and climb out, you both task yourselves with getting ready for the upcoming day. You grab your clothes and pull them on, doing your skincare and whatever else you want while Jack drys his hair messily with a towel and reaches for his deodorant and cologne thatâs next to you.
You both are content with the domestic scene as you throw smirks at one another while brushing your teeth when you're interrupted by a harsh knock on Jack's door.
Jack rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone. âWow, he made it until 8:36.â He says sarcastically, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.
You jab him in the ribs. âDonât be mean.â
Jack rolls his eyes and shakes his head, going to grab a shirt from his dresser.
âAre you two decent?â Luke sounds from outside the room, jiggling the door handle.
âIf weâre not, will you leave us alone?â Jack says, finally unlocking the door and opening it.
Luke saunters into the room, hitting Jack's shoulder purposely and waving to you as you finish putting in your earrings. He makes his way to the bed, finding a comfortable spot. He seems content until he notices the wet hair of you two, rolling his eyes and giving you both a disgusted look.
A few minutes later, youâre all downstairs, grabbing keys and heading to your favorite breakfast spot in the area. You donât make it far, however, when Jacks phone rings. Heâs quick to answer it, and within seconds, a hard look crosses his face, and you know that something is wrong, and his statement confirms your theory.
âThanks for letting me know. Iâm gonna kill him.â
#hockey#hockey boys#imagine#nhl imagine#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey x reader#nhl hockey#nhl x reader#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#luke hughes#nhl blurb#nhl fic#nhl#nhl players#new jersey devils#hockey blurbs#devils hockey#hockey blurb
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Unraveling Desires
Request: Ohhhh those are great! â¤ď¸
39. "Another kiss like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions." with Tim Bradford pleeeease đ
Prompt: Another kiss like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions.
Pairings: Tim Bradford x Police K-9 Officer!Wife!Reader
Warnings:
Kiss Prompts
Masterlist
You and Tim had known each other for a while now and awhile means that you both are married and have been for 5 years. You two truly loved each other and wouldnât trade each other for other people. You two were happy with each other and you wouldnât change that for anything. The both of you sometimes had the same shift and while he was with a trainee you were out on your own and loving it you were also a K-9 handler, you absolutely adored Lucy Chen and she was a good friend you also have her dirt on Tim that she could use against him. When he found out you were doing this you usually got it when he saw you next but you werenât complaining.
It just happened that you both had the same shift this time and you loved it because you could tease your husband and he wouldnât be able to do anything about it. You had just woken up to the sound of your alarm going off. You laid there in a bed for a few minutes watching your husband sleep and then smirked when a brilliant idea came to your mind. You leaned over and snuggled into him and then you slowly started to kiss him. First you started at the shell of his ear and then slowly made your way down his neck. He started to stir but had yet to wake up. You smirked and continued your attack and you slowly started to kiss his shirtless chest and trailing your hand up and down his stomach getting close to where you knew he needed you the most but you didnât. You started to kiss down his sternum and then to his stomach and right before you got to his underwear started you looked up and noticed him looking at you and you smiled âGood morning.â You said and then got up and strutted to the bathroom and you could just see the look on his face.
âHey, get over here and finish what you started.â He said sitting up on his elbows and you turned around with your toothbrush in your hand.
âWhat if I donât?â You asked after you spit out the toothpaste and rinsed out your mouth. Then crawled into bed and startled him. He smirked and then flipped you over where he was now straddling you and he started kissing you.
âYouâll find out.â He said and then kissed you and trailed down until he got to your pajama pants and then stopped and then looked up and smirked then got off and started to get ready for the day.
âFucking tease.â You said and he smirked.
âYou started it, wife.â He saidÂ
âOh, itâs on, husband.â You said and the both of you got ready. Where he changes at the station you donât since you have your K-9 partner, Rocky. Once changed you walked out of the bedroom to where Rocky was kenneled and let him out. You let him out and then fed him. When you got done Tim had walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, Rocky greeted him and then you were handing him his coffee cup.
âWanna try and meet up for lunch?â You asked him and he nodded.
âYou know I do; everyone loves seeing you and Rocky.â He said and at the sound of his name the Mahogany colored Belgian Malinois perked up and barked at his name and you and Tim laughed. You walked over to where you kept his stuff and got his collar that said âPOLICE K-9 DO NOT TOUCHâ you called him over and spoke the command to sit in German and he did so and you clipped the collar on. You then slipped his bullet proof vest on. Tim looked at you in awe. He loved it when you spoke a different language. âYou two have a good day. Rocky, you protect our girl.â He said and he barked as if saying âYou got it!â and then walked over and kissed you and you kissed back and off you went with your loyal partner out the door and into the K-9 police cruiser. Normally all police cars had to stay at the station but K-9 handlers were allowed to take theirs home because they have to transport their animal.
You drove to the station to check in and start your day. The drive was pretty quick and you made it there in no time just about the time your husband pulled in at the same time and you rolled your eyes. You parked your cruiser in the designated parking spot and got out letting Rocky out at the same time. Tim walked over and waited for you. âWere you tailing us?â You asked with a hint of playfulness in your voice.
âNow why would I do that?â He asked and then pecked you on the lips and you pushed him away.
âWeâre at work.â You said but smirked because you and he knew that you didnât care.Â
âYour point is?â He asked and you shook your head and the both of you started your walk in. You had different bosses since you were in different departments but it was on the same floor. You once again parted ways while he got dressed and you went to check in with your boss. Once you were done you walked by the briefing room and smirked seeing your husband sitting there and when he caught sight of Rocky, he looked at you and smiled and then you were on your way. Wade Grey caught this but didnât say anything. Both you and Tim were well respected in both of your departments and they knew not to mess with you.Â
By the time they were out on the road you had been out for at least 30 minutes and when you heard them check in you smirked âTime to have some fun.â You said and got on the radio. âAbout time you guys got to work.â You said and waited for a response and Tim was the first.
âArenât you supposed to be working?â Tim askedÂ
âI am. Been working for about 30 minutes now.â You said with a smirk and you could just see him roll his eyes. It was silent for about 10 minutes then Lucy came over the radio. The over the radio banter went back and forth. You all answered some calls and some you ended up together on. Nolan, Jackson, Angela, and Talia loved you and when they saw you and Rocky in action they were always in awe. After the call Tim met you at your cruiser leaning up on it.Â
âYouâre so sexy when youâre in action.â He said and you rolled your eyes but smiled as you put Rocky into his built-in kennel and you left the door open.
âSo are you.â You replied and he smirked just then another call came in for a K-9 unit and you responded and then turned to your husband âDuty calls.â You said and closed Rockyâs door and hopped into the driver's side and headed off to the call. The call involved some tracking but, in the end, you got the suspect.Â
Lunch time rolled around and you met Tim and the others at the usual place and went and sat with them while taking Rocky with you so he could stretch his legs. âY/N how do you keep this man in line?â Angela asked with a smirk and Tim rolled his eyes and you laughed.
âIt's easy. I just withhold sex. Works like a charm every time.â You said and they laughed with you while he rolled his eyes but he knew it was true.
âDo you like working in the K-9 department?â Nolan asked and you smiled and nodded.
âI love it. Rocky here is my companion and he listens and doesnât talk back.â You said and they laughed.
âHey, I listen.â Tim saidÂ
âYes, but you also talk back sometimes.â You said and he rolled his eyes âLove you.â You spoke
âI love you too.â He replied
âHow did you meet?â Lucy askedÂ
âI actually met Tim on a call and he was so impressed by Rocky and I that he asked me out and the rest is history.â You said and before they could respond your radio went off requesting K-9 back-up and you responded and off you and Rocky went.Â
You didnât see any of them again for the rest of the day and night. The next time you saw Tim was when he had gotten home and you were already home. You had already changed and had dinner going when he walked through the door. âThereâs my sexy wife.â He said and you smiled and walked over and wrapped his arms around your hips.
âAnd there is my handsome husband.â You said turning your head to kiss him. âHow was your day?â You asked him when you released each other from the kiss.
âLong. Had a lot more calls this time.â He said âYours?â He asked going to fridge and opening it to grab two beers and petting Rockyâs head.
âIt was good. We had a lot of calls too and some traffic stops.â You said and he nodded and took the beer when he offered it.
âNobody got hurt?â He asked and you shook your head.
âNope, just the suspects that decided to hide or run.â You said chuckling and so did he. You turned off the stove âSupper is ready.â You said and he grabbed two plates and handed you one. You both got your plates and went and sat down and began to eat.
Supper was eaten in a comfortable setting with some talking about anything and everything. It was done you went over and startled his lap and kissed him with passion and fire and he responded. When you pulled away his pupils were blown and you had no doubt yours was too. âAnother kiss like that and I won't be held responsible for my actions.â He said and a smirk grew on your face and you kissed him again with the same ferocity as the first kiss and he knew what you wanted. He got up quickly knocking the chair over and then started for the bedroom planning on finishing what you both started that morning. You were in for a long night and you were so ready for it and so was he.
Tag list:
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@atarmychick007
@nyx2021
@grandstrangerphantom
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@talesofreading
#tim bradford x reader fanfic#tim bradford x reader imagines#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x reader imagine#tim bradford x reader fan fic#tim bradford x reader fanfiction#tim bradford x reader fandom#tim bradford x reader fluff#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford imagines#tim bradford fandom#tim bradford fanfiction#tim bradford fanfic#tim bradford fic#the rookie x reader#the rookie x reader imagines#the rookie x reader fandom#the rookie x reader fanfiction#the rookie x reader fan fic#the rookie fanfiction#the rookie fanfic#the rookie imagine#the rookie imagines#the rookie
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Itâs 5:30 am and I literally have been awake for the past 3 hours trying to fall asleep but this fucking guy
This beautiful British blonde FUCK has been plaguing my every brain cell and itâs SICK. Thinking abt early mornings with him and how tender and sweet heâd be GRRRAH (more BTC)
But okok so imagine youâre having a hard time falling back asleep, itâs like 3:45 am but you donât care, itâs actually a pleasant surprise for you when you wake earlier then normal, because your man isnât usually far behind.
Like Carmy, he wants to be the first one up, the first one ready, the first one that gets to work. So naturally heâs rousing at 4, taking a good 5 minutes to lay with you and smother you in gentle kisses, light enough to assure you wouldnât wake too soon, but enough to satisfy himself that he gave you enough love and attention before he got to work.
That is something different between those two. Carmy sees a relationship as a distraction and something he needs to tread carefully with so he doesnât dedicate too much of his mind or time to it - but Luca? He worships his girl, and he will spend any second possible at your side while still maintaining his regimented routine.
Lucas anxiety comes about time, itâs different than Carmys. Luca is always early, he has mastered knowing the very minute he has to be out of bed and taking the 5 steps to the boat houses bathroom and cutting the water on that takes 3 minutes to come to a comfortable temperature. But until then? He is kissing your cheeks, your nose, your hairline, your neck, your chest, your stomach, your thighs. Heâs snuggling you close and whispering how much he loves you, and his plans for the day even if he well knows youâre dead to the world still.
He would work extra minutes and seconds into his morning routine between brushing his teeth and getting dressed and styling his hair he would come and give you a sweet kiss to the head or lips, sometimes gently caressing your hair if you stirred from the action.
But this particular morning, Luca was elated, but a bit confused, to see you looking right back at him when he hit stop on his alarm after the second beep. âMorning, trying to come for my gig as being the early riser in this relationship?â His voice was deep and rich with sleep. He pulled you in, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back soothingly which caused your eyes to flutter shut at the lovely feeling. He was so warm, he smelt so distinctly him. You nuzzled your face into his bare chest, planting gentle kisses on the skin
âThe universe is against me. I feel tired but Iâve been laying with my eyes closed for hours, this is helping though- but I donât want it to now cause I love you and wanna talkâ you said and he chuckled a bit, kissing the top of your head again and giving you a loving squeeze
âI love you, darling. Whatâs on your mind, mm?â He asked and gently pets your hair. You nuzzle into his neck, a small smile on your lips.
âIâm not telling you cause you work too hard as it isâ you said and he smiled himself, snorting a laugh
âSo youâre thinking of something you want to eat, got it. Well what is plaguing that pretty mind baby I may have some spare time todayâ he resumed his gentle back rub, his short nails running along your skin and giving you goosebumps where he touched.
âLemon possetâ you admit and he hums, pressing another kiss to your forehead this time
âAnd why do you think thatâs so hard love? Iâll bring you some back later.â He said and you groan
âLuca you work 10 hours today, Iâd rather you be home with me then making me some stupid intricate cravingâ
âHush, I can work it out love donât worry. Just gotta move some things around itâll be no big dealâ
And yeah heâs gonna be home early, with dessert and dinner - just to prove a point that he knows how to manage his time
#chef Luca the bear#chef luca x reader#chef luca#chef Luca fanfiction#the bear#the bear fanfiction#the bear fluff
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u have absolutely no idea what 'coffee caramels' did to me omg đ u write spencer and his mannerisms so WELL hsbsghdbdh so i come to u with a lil request if that's okay with u !!
spencer insists on playing pretend-doctor for reader who's sick (but denying it) so he invokes his technically-a-doctor card and gives his second opinion just to take care of reader n smother them w looooove
essentially just him teasing y/n and being the stupid Cute attentive nerd he is <3
(inspired by S5E3 where he gets stuck at the bau w garcia bc he was being stubborn abt his injury)
i am never ever Normal abt this guy đ i look forward to reading more of ur work and losing my mind over reid with u, aine !! mwa
hiii tysm for requesting, youre so fucking sweet!! <33 drop an emoji to let me know who you are and letâs loose our mind over our fav boy together anon!!!! also sorry this took so long, i wrote like 3k but then hated it so i started over, i love this prompt sm so i feel like i had to do it justice.
pspspsp i love s5 spence so fucking much... his hair went from beautiful to ethereal to mad sexy...s5 treated us well. requests are ALWAYS appreciated !!!!!!
soup. spencer reid
spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k
you've been off it for so long, dodging virus after virus and disease after disease and just right when you thought that you are immune to sickness, you caught it. the inevitable fever.
there was no denying it, you've tried. after getting a headache, you popped a tylenol before you went to sleep, nonchalant. the next morning was when reality really came crashing down. a sore throat.
it progressively got worse throughout the day, and when you came crashing into bed after a long day at work, your nose was feeling stuffy and your were coughing, spewing sickness everywhere you went. you woke up in the middle of night sweating like you had just ran a fucking marathon and only able to breathe through one nostril unless you shift your body entirely.
you did not take to these news well. firmly in denial, you still planned to show up to work the next day.
except you didn't show up to work. sickly and delirious, the part when you press snooze then snooze again slip your mind and at one point you must've turn off your alarm entirely. drifting in and out of consciousness and slipping into dream after dream, it gets harder to tell what is real and what is not.
"y/n? y/n!"
now, it is very probable that the voice isnât actually real, because why the hell would you be hearing spencer reidâs voice outside of work? the chances are slim to none, and despite the heat pounding at your skull you manage to smile. there is something unexplainably comforting about spencerâs voice, soft and deliberate. it would be foolish to say that under the mad spell heâd cast on you (him simply saying two words) heâs managed to melt away your headache, because he didnât. you still feel like shit.
ây/n?â
you frown, the voice sounding too insistent and real and not matching up with the visuals of your dream. you feel a tapping on your shoulder and when you blink your eyes open you couldâve screamed.
you jump up and then backwards, huddling your blanket with you, scared for your life. because right in front of you is perhaps the most intimidating creature on the earth; spencer reid in a purple sweater vest with his face so close to yours he could breathe in your sickness, hair tucked carefully behind his ear.
âspencer?â you ask incredulously, but instead your voice comes out a rasp. you clear your throat, feeling something warm creep up your cheek. it might be a blush, but you blame it on the chills. you keep blinking, trying to regain your vision and feel instantaneous embarrassment. you look a mess, sick and dehydrated with dry lips and bad hair and you probably reek of morning breath. and spencerâs there, looking like heavenâs finest angel, smiling at you like heâs smiling at a person and not a monster. spencer has the tendency to treat and look at everyone like theyâre the love of his life. you sort of hate it.
âhi y/n,â he breathes, crouching down on the floor before you on the bed. âiââ
âwhat are you doing here?â youâre too impatient to wait, still in shock.
now. you try not to make it obvious that you have a mad crush on spencer, because if the fact were to spill, youâre not eager cleaning up the consequences. itâs an unestablished, unspoken rule that should be common sense that no workplace dating will be allowed and usually itâs a ridiculous rule, because who the hell would want to date their coworker, like actually? work crushes are normal but they exist only in a part of your day, an eye-candy for you to stare at to get through the day, then you go home or go out and forget about them. who actually has serious work crushes, actually? actually? itâs ridiculous.
your defense is completely solid, youâd say. your number one defense is you canât help the fact that you and spencer were meant to be friends. the moment you joined the team, you and spencer clicked together like two lego pieces, despite your clashing personalities. you find it refreshing to have someone like spencer, someone whoâs soft and sweet but cunning and resourceful but thoughtful and kind, and it was equally refreshing for spencer to have someone blunt and straightforward but still patient enough to put up with him.
spencer doesnât like physical touch but ever since your first week he made you the exception and if you could, you would parade the privilege around like a badge. what can you say, youâre proud to be spencerâs little exception, anyone would be. he makes you feel special, differently than the others do and whatâs a girl to do? to have that great of a relationship with a coworker and not be work spouses and not be actually head over heels with the guy? how laughable.
itâs not something youâre proud of, however. you know itâs a lost cause, chasing after spencer. it hurts, sometimes, but you always patted yourself on the back with an âit is what it is.â spencer, as sweet and vulnerable as he is, has layers behind his thinly veiled heart. he talks a lot but he never talks about himself and he never talks about the past so he doesnât have to revive it, so all the memories are just wounds left out and neglected to burn. spencerâs trouble, definitely trouble, but itâs hard to be aware of the workload that spencer reid is when heâs rambling to you about something as innocent as halloween or knocking his knuckles on your knee during a flight trying to get your attention.
spencer blinks sheepishly, settling criss cross apple sauce on the ground, lanky legs twisting uncomfortably. âyou didnât come into work and you didnât answer your phone,â he explains. âemily told me to go check on you.â
you nod. heâs here because emily told him to. it makes a lot more sense now. âiâll head in the office now,â you say, making your way out of bed, wiping at your eyes. âsorryââ
âno youâre not,â spencer says immediately, not even hesitating. he places a hand on your upper chest, pressing you back down on the bed. the butterflies at the pit of your stomach throws a fit. you know he means nothing by the actionâhas spencer reid ever been the one knowledgeable about romance?âbut knowing that doesnât help the heat that spread up your cheeks thatâs definitely not from the sickness. âyouâre burning up,â he says. âiâll get you some water. you should clean up,â he says, uncrossing his legs difficultly and then stumbling out the room, mismatched socks slipping on the hardwood floor.
you take advantage of the time that spencerâs not there and race to the bathroom, ignoring the blackout and the dizziness that threatens to make you faint from getting up too abruptly. you squirt some toothpaste onto your toothbrush and by the time you exit the bathroom, spencer is already there, waiting, except heâs by your desk, hands on a book.
typical.
he perks up when he hears your footsteps pad into the room, turning around, looking like a child whoâs been caught with your book in his hands. you smile at him, albeit itâs a pathetic smile. you feel dizzy.
âyou like toni morrison?â
âi love toni morrison,â spencer chirps, excitement bouncing all over his face. âespecially her masterwork, beloved,â he looks back down at your red copy admiringly then sets it down. "get back in bed," he says, and you can't wrap your hand around how ridiculous the situation is. your coworker, or work crush, is at your house, checking your temperature and shooing you to bed to rest. "i bought you soup so you can eat up, i--"
âyou bought me soup?â you ask, incredulous. spencer nods seriously.
âit's proven that eating soup makes people feel better, not just some stereotype. the right amount of sodium can help help relieve sore throat pains and the vitamins and minerals found in soup can play a very large part in recovery...i had a feeling you were going to be sick, itâs the weather, you know? everyone is catching the cold. you need to eat it before it gets cold, the heat helps with nasal digestion and also sinus pressure and it'll be useless if you ate it lukewarm...iâll be right backâŚâ and with the babbling his voice fades out as he walks back out to the living room, leaving you alone standing on the side of your bed. you look at the forgotten copy of beloved set carefully back onto your desk, smiling to yourself slightly before climbing back into bed, because spencer says so and spencerâs always right but mostly because your legs feel like theyâre going to give out.
spencer is speedy, striding several steps at once with his ridiculously long legs that looks unnaturally lanky but once he reaches your room again, soup and spoon in hand you were already nodding off, head lolling and eyes slipping shut. spencer stops at your bed stand, thinking to himself for a second before balancing the plastic bowl of soup on one hand and using the other to gently nudge at your face, waking you up. he grimaces when he feels that your skin burns to the touch, a bright tint to your cheeks that he hates himself for liking because you're sick, he shouldn't be thinking that you're pretty or stuff like that.
spencer waves the thought away, determined to focus on his mission. deliver soup, make sure you're okay, and send his farewells. that's what emily told him to do, and even though derek added a "kiss her goodnight too, loverboy!" he's only going to listen to emily, because emily knows best.
yes. perfect. that's exactly what he's going to do.
"hey," he whispers, caressing his thumb across the lightly purple patch under your eye, frowning to himself. you haven't been getting good enough sleep, and he feels guiltier for waking you up, but then straightens himself up resolutely--no. emily said the soup must be delivered and consumed--just to melt again when your eyes flutter open, confused and traces of sleep still floating around your facial expression. "sorry," he mumbles, feeling oddly embarrassed. "it's just--i mean, you don't have to, jus' want you to eat something before you sleep again."
you sit up slowly, and once you're fully awake again, the smell of the soup hits you like a bucket of ice and you suddenly feel your mouth watering. you feel like a princess, sitting there with your hands crossed in your lap while you wait for spencer to unwrap the plastic utensils and tissues from its clear packaging, carefully opening up the lid of the soup on the night stand and hot steam floats around the room, engulfing both you and spencer in a bubble of tomato soup.
spencer, a planner that he is, didn't let you eat directly from the plastic take-out bowl from the restaurant and had rummaged through your kitchen for a bowl and pours half the soup into the ceramic, no spillage and perfectly clean. then he hands the soup to you, and you eat.
to say that spencer is concerned is to say the least. you're a profiler, and you're trained to pick up on this sort of thing but you only need to be a child with an undeveloped brain to work out that spencer's worried, watching your every move and monitoring that you eat enough, the crease in his brows deepen whenever you set the bowl down so you pick it up again and stuff two more spoonfuls in your mouth, to hopefully make him worry less.
the silence is awkward, the only sounds in the room is you biting down on the spoon occasionally as you drink your soup and spencer watching intently, hands on his chin and unaware of his staring problem. you and spencer rarely has these kind of silences, the silences where you scramble for things to say because the atmosphere would always be too comfortable. you sneak glances at him as you eat. since spencer's completely oblivious to the heaviness of the silence, you feel it's up to you to break it.
"i'll clock in once i'm finish eating this, don't worry," you say, trying your best to sound reassuring as you try to choke back a spoonful of soup too big. you lick your lips, and spencer is biting his, a bad habit.
"no you're not, y/n," he says, exasperated. normally, when spencer uses his 'i'm right so you should listen to me' tone like this, it means he's geared for an argument and you would be happy to challenge him, but now you can't find the energy for it. yet you muster enough up anyway.
"i'm only a bit shaken up 'cause of the weather," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible, still in the calm before the storm of the bicker. "'m not immobile. and i already used up all my off days visiting my family--"
spencer, however, didn't bother for the peaceful offering. "you're not coming in today, y/n," he says, and he sounds a bit anxious but you know his true intent. his eyes are mirthful with confidence, and he knows he's already won the argument. despite the buzzing in your ears and the fuzziness in your brain, you can't let the bastard win. you can't.
âi canât miss anymore days spencer, and i wonât,â you say coldly, but you slurping on the soup hungrily like itâs your last day on earth sort of ruined your cool facade. âiâm not too sick, either, itâll be useless for me to stay homeââ
spencer reaches to press his palm against your forehead, his skin cold to the touch. you close your eyes instinctively.
âyouâre burning up,â he announces. âmeans your sick. youâre not coming in today, y/n.â
âsays who?â you say defensively, feeling a bit like youâre loosing.
âsays me,â spencer says cooly, cheeky smile at his lips. you should hate it more than you do. âwhoâs a doctor.â
you scoff. âso now youâre an actual doctor? you got a medical phd on you?â
âi have a bachelor in medicine and enough doctorates to make me slightly knowledgeable in every field,â spencer quips and you didnât even know that he had a bachelor in medicine. how many fucking degrees does this guy even have on his resume?
âwhatever,â you grumble, sounding a lot like someone whoâs just got defeated. you set the bowl of soup down on the nightstand and spencer hands you a bottled water before you could think about needing water. you pluck it from his offering hands, muttering a âthanksâ under your breath.
spencer laughs quietly, watching you drink patiently and putting the cap back on when you hand him back the bottle, setting it next to your soup. you feel ridiculously babied and your cheeks burn with the guilt you feel. youâre talking him off his office hours just to be here and feed you stuff and make sure youâre taking care of yourself.
spencer, the 24/7 profiler, notices. "is something wrong?" he asks innocently, round eyes blinking and oblivious. bless him. "you got redder. is it too hot? i can adjust the a/c."
âfine,â you mumble, still a little embarrassed with your realization. âlittle cold, actually.â
âit's the chills from your fever,â spencer informs you. âiâŚâ he pauses, frowning again, frustrated from not being able to finish his thought. he abandons it. âdo you need anything else?â
âno spence,â you laugh sort of pathetically, throat strained. âyouâve been an angel already. you can go back to the office, if you want.â
spencer thinks back to what emily had told him. soup. make sure sheâs ok. leave. heâs done the past two steps. itâs time he completes his mission.
butâŚ
âare you sure?â he prods, a little bit of him hoping that you'd say no. he doesn't know what it is; something bothering him, making him dread leaving.
you didn't get the cue. "mhmm," you shoot him a reassuring smile. as reassuring as you can manage, anyway, grimacing at the insistent throb in your head. spencer gnaws on his bottom lip, indecisive. you don't know what he was deciding between.
whatever battle it was, he wraps it up quick. "okay," he repeats. "i'll get back."
"you do that."
"remember to drink water."
"i will."
"do you need me to bring you more?"
"i'm okay."
"okay."
"okay."
the conversation feels incomplete and spencer isn't interested to complete it, booting out the door, except he lingers for a bit and awkwardly turns around, hand on the frame. you are already looking at him when he looks at you.
you and spencer are never this awkward, never this hesitant and strange. the tension that suffocates your room feels like signature first-date-tension, the kind of nervous excitement and tip-toeing blind lovers and uncertainty.
"are you sure?"
i'd rather you stay. you push the response away. "i am."
"you have medicine right?"
you do have medicine. for a brief moment, you want to lie about it; want to say that you ran out this morning and then he would run to the store for you and return and then spend more time in your insufferable, sickly presence. you brush the thought away within a second. never in a million years do you want to bother spencer, especially not with a thing as selfish as that. maybe it's because of your biased vision but spencer is looking like he's desperate to leave, practically screaming for outlet at the door. it's time you let him go and indulge in the worst sleep you'll ever have.
"yeah," you say, clearing your throat. "i do."
"okay," spencer says. "i'll go."
"thanks," you add awkwardly. "for the soup. and for coming."
"'course" spencer says absentmindedly, lingering at the door frame but not looking at you in particular, not looking at anything. he snaps back and sends you a wave. spencer has a power to him where everything he does looks unplanned, like he's doing it against his own will.
he leaves. if you had change your mind and ask for him to come back, for him to stay, he would've. no hesitation. but you didn't, and he wiggles back in his broken in converses and return back to the bau with no elevator partner.
maybe another day.
a/n: sorry for the ending, this was getting too long so i had to cut it short đđbut i think it's kinda fitting! lmk if you guys want a part 2 <3
#spencer reid#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#matthew gray gubler#mgg#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#my works
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