#but what the FUCK is mikey's head oh my god

[zehecatl]

on one hand, i really don’t like this new style (and it looks much better as a cap, then when it’s in motion which. is not good lmao) but i’m honestly just so happy to see a proper Raph again, i don’t even care

[xocasper]

quick question how long is too long…

[b0nten]

HOW ARE BABIES MADE?

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.

RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”

meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”

SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.

TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”

KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.

if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.

IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.

[queers-gambit]

Two to Tango

prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

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

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.4k+

note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!

warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

part one: God's Plan

"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"

You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"

"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"

He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."

"What do you want?"

"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.

You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"

He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"

"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.

"Oh, someone's touchy."

"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"

He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."

You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."

"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.

"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."

"So, he needs his mother?"

Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."

"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."

You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"

"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."

"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.

"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "

"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"

Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."

"Sucks to suck."

"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"

"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."

"How is talking to the man you love - "

"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."

"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."

You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"

He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"

"To say... What?"

"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?"

"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."

"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."

Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"

"What?"

"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"

"It's not even seven in the morning!"

"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."

You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.

When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.

"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."

"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.

"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.

The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "

"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"

He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.

"Carmy, we need to talk."

"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.

"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "

"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."

"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."

"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"

"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "

"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "

"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."

"Nah, I'm okay - "

"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."

"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."

"I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."

"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.

"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.

"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."

"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."

"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."

"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."

He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."

"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

"Move in with me - officially."

Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "

"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"

He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."

You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."

"I'm fine - "

"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."

He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.

"Exactly why we're going back to yours."

Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"

You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"

You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."

He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.

"Okay?"

"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."

"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"

"I will be."

"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.

"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."

"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.

"Fair point - just one then - "

He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.

When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."

"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."

He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.

"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.

"We're talking it out."

He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."

"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"

He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"

"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."

Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.

When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.

"Why?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."

Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."

"It's okay, baby," you whispered.

"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"

"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"

He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.

You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.

"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."

You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.

"Why can't I get out?"

You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.

"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"

"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.

"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."

"Laid to rest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."

"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."

"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.

When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.

"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."

"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."

He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.

"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.

"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.

"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"

"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"

"I don't want you t'clean after me."

"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."

"Think you can handle that?"

He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."

You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."

"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.

True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.

You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.

Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.

You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.

They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.

You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.

Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.

And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[bettertwin9000]

I'm incredibly normal about this. Nothing is happening currently irl..

Definitely

100%

Lee barged into my room last night and distracted me and before I knew it, it was like 2am BUT HERE. I'm sleepy, have a headache, and am starving, but ugh... augh

@bettertwin1 @bettertwin9000 my kids..... :')) <3

[thebearer]

follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust. 

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust. 

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.” 

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-” 

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.” 

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him. 

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.” 

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good. 

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.” 

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.” 

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office. 

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully. 

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-” 

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?” 

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!” 

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant. 

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.” 

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open. 

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least. 

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.” 

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.” 

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned. 

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush. 

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly. 

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-” 

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered. 

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted. 

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.” 

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. 

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him. 

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded. 

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright. 

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.” 

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert. 

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left. 

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed. 

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock. 

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?” 

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered. 

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.” 

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?” 

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.” 

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil. 

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.” 

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven. 

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.” 

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?” 

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment. 

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie. 

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.” 

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.” 

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room. 

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded. 

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.” 

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in. 

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!” 

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please” 

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good. 

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!” 

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him. 

To: Carmen 

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’ 

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!” 

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way. 

So, Carmen did what he always did. 

From: Carmen 

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’ 

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret. 

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!” 

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.” 

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned. 

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance. 

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you. 

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.” 

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.” 

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?” 

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?” 

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked. 

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell. 

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way. 

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do. 

“What? Cousin, what are you-” 

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.” 

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned. 

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added. 

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him. 

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her. 

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-” 

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered. 

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.” 

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?” 

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen. 

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.” 

[reallyromealone]

Can I request an smiley x reader omegaverse like omega reader is Mikey’s sibling. Like the first time that smiley sees him he instantly knows that’s his fated omega but he has to go through Mikey to try and court reader plz and thank you.

Title: lover

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Characters: Sano family, Toman, smiley

Fic type: omegaverse

Pairings: smiley x reader

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, omegaverse, Omega male reader, protective Sano siblings, fluff, cute, soulmate

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Mikey was always an overprotective brother, scaring off anyone who went near his siblings and (name) especially as the Omega was a cutie that grabbed everyone's attention much to his older brothers annoyances.

The Sano brothers always chased off suitors, keeping him away from gang shit but sometimes it was unavoidable.

"(Name), what are you doin' here?" Baji asked as (name) sat at the steps of the shrine doing his homework "Shinichiro doesn't need help at the shop and home was boring so Mikey dragged me here" (name) explained simply as mitsuya nodded "you never been to a meeting, have you?" He asked and (name) shook his head "nyope but Mikey would rather die than have be go out and about and Iza is busy with his own stuff so.... Here I am"

(Name) Met a few Toman higher ups, though (name) was usually helping shin or grandpa so this was one of his first times meeting a few people here.

(Name) Was curious as two motorcycles pulled up, a set of twins hopping off "so why the hell are we here?!" The pink haired one yelled out and (name) was entranced immediately, a small chirp leaving his lips and the smiling teen whipped his head around to see the Omega and a rumble left his throatbas the world halted for them, (name) feeling the need to get closer to the Alpha.

"Alpha..."

"NOPE ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!"

(Name) Snapped from his trance as Mikey looked ready to murder at the lovestruck look his brother was giving Smiley, he didn't want any fucker near his brother and definitely not one of the biggest Fuckboys in the gang. "(Name)! I will bring you home I swear to god!" Mikey barked and (name) rolled his eyes "oh please! I'm not doing anything!" He fired back and the blond groaned annoyed "just stop making eyes at my captain and smiley stop looking at him like that or I'll kick your ass!"

That did nothing, Everytime smiley shot the other a flirty glance, (name) smiled all flustered and that just egged the Alpha on further.

"I swear to fucking god!" And (name) went back to his homework.

"He is NEVER going to a meeting again!" Mikey said angrily as they got home, Izana glancing up as Emma and shinichiro made dinner "what happened?" The teen girl asked, tilting her head slightly and (name) pouted "I didn't do anything! Mikey is being dramatic!" (Name) Huffed as he sat beside Izana "Iza! Make Mikey stop being a drama queen"

Shinichiro looked at Draken who was leaning on the door frame "ken, what happened?"

"(Name) Met his dated pair" he said simply and the room was silent as Izana moved to sniff his brother "you don't smell like (scent)" the white haired man accused and they looked at him expectantly and (name) pouted as grandpa made a grunt "when do we get to meet em?" The old alpha asked and (name) huffed "after I get to meet him!"

"So you are trying to kill me!" Mikey cried and (name) rolled his eyes.

It wasn't till the following week that (name) saw smiley again, the two halting as (name) went to get groceries for dinner "it's you!" (Name) Was over the moon as the older kawata looked at him with a flirty grin "watch out now, Mikey might kick my ass" he teased and (name) huffed "he wouldn't dare" oh Mikey would but (name) in turn would throw shit at him.

Smiley walked with (name) around the store as they chatted, falling so easily into a routine as the Alpha kept his fated pair close as the Alpha paid for the other "you don't have to!" (Name) Looked guilt as smiley shrugged "not gonna let my mate pay for shit"

The two walked to the Sano house as shinichiro was reading a magazine on the engawa casually "OI! one foot apart you shits!" The eldest barked out and (name) pouted, the other two brothers poking their heads out and Mikey glared as Izana stared coldly at the elder twin "(name)! Didn't I say no dating till I'm dead!" Mikey grumbled out and (name) rolled his eyes "I'm older than you!" (Name) Fired back as the two squabbled leaving the eldest siblings to judge smiley "this house is traditional when it comes to courting, if you want to be with him it's not gonna be easy"

Shinichiro wanted his younger brother to date a nice alpha not.... Not smiley.

Anyone but smiley--- I'm almost anyone because he's seen the people his brothers hang out with.

Maybe like mitsuya, yeah mitsuya would treat him well.

And thus started the courting process, all dates had a a chaperone of one of the siblings, the two never getting to be alone (unless you count the times smiley snuck into (name)s bedroom so they could makeout) and the brothers judged any gift that smiley got (name) "looks cheap" they said but (name) was giddy at anything his mate to be got him.

(Name) Got him little trinkets and a cute bracelet set that the Omega seemed very proud of and Smiley wore the matching bracelets with pride.

"Where ya taking him"

"What are you gonna do?"

"Hope you booked a reservation for three"

Smiley was ready to throttle his close friend and his family but knew they were just worried about their pack Omega dating though thank fuck grandpa Sano was chill with him and actually seemed happy that (name) found his soulmate.

"These goofs are all planning on moving out, (name) is the only one who is interested in running the dojo" grandpa Sano said randomly while Smiley waited for him to finish getting ready "you're a good kid, I know what my boys do so I know you can hold your own" he continued and smiley for once wasn't so well... Smiley but instead Nahoya.

"So what do you want to do, after school?"

"My brother and I want to run our own ramen shop, we have a name for it and everything"

The old alpha hummed, seeming pleased with his response "hardworking young man, (name) is a strong young man, doesn't like to be tied to his omega status despite his brothers attempts... Let him do what makes him happy" the elder man asked him and nahoya nodded "if he wants something, I'll do whatever I can to provide it"

"Good, now (name)! Hurry up! You're making this young man wait forever!"

"I'm coming I'm coming!"

Grandpa Sano watched how much love was between them, he hoped he could get to live to see them get married.

Maybe even to see a few pups.

[bigwishes]

Muscle BULL

(at time of writing muscle bull won the vote so I hope you enjoy)

Mikey took one last picture in front of the gym mirror, showing off every bulging muscle of his tight and toned frame. He typed his wish into the ask box "I wish for a change (but I wanna keep my muscle)" and looked into the mirror waiting for his changes to begin.

As soon as he pressed send Mikey felt his body begin to pulse and swell. He heard the sound of his skin stretching as his muscles swelled up underneath. Mikey grabbed his pec feeling it bulge and swell bigger, the pulses of growth matching his heart beat.

"ah, fuck yeaahhhh" Mikey moaned flexing in the mirror.

The growth began to slow down, Mikey put on some cloths feeling them tight over his massive body, unable to stop flexing to himself and laughing at how muscle bigger he had grown. He left the locker room to test his new massive body in the gym.

After an hour in the gym Mikey realised he had lifted a barbell maybe once. He was too busy staring at his massive frame in the gym mirror. Other guys around him looked puny, he looked almost over grown but he loved the size.

Mikey took a deep breath flexing again but feeling something strange in his pelvis. A butterfly like sensation stirring in his groin, Mikey looked down and moaned watching as the fabric around his dick expanded and stretched out. His eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip watching it expand and grow bigger. Mikey got up and left the gym, in such a rush he forgot his bag, he got in his car feeling another surge of growth. Driving home as fast as he legally could Mikey anxiously rubbed his groin feeling a surge of pleasure as he touched it. He wanted to lift up his waist band but was even more desperate to enjoy himself as soon as he saw what was under it.

Mikey pulled up in his driveway getting out of his car, feeling what felt like his balls now so big they rubbed against his thighs. Suddenly another pulse of growth washed over his groin.

"AWWWW FUCCKKKKKKK" Mikey moaned out falling back to lean on the side of his car.

Mikey tried to run to his door but it was more of a waddle feeling the squeeze in-between his legs, Mikey shut his door and leant against it, staring up at the ceiling he moaned feeling one last massive surge. **RIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP**

Mikey heard his gym shorts tear apart and felt his underwear snap. Mikey let out a excited laugh looking down at his new package but it wasn't his dick that he saw. Mikey's face quickly soured as he saw a massive pink udder sagging in place of where his dick would be.

"w..w...w-WHAT THE FUCK" Mikey started to panic, grabbing onto one of his new four dick.

Another sudden pulse hit him and Mikey watched as his new sagging udder swelled up even more he felt it become tight, and then painfully tight, completely full.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DICK"

Mikey slid down against his door until he was sitting on the floor. He placed both his hands around the massive round udder. All four of his dicks began to leak pre.

"oh god...what the fuck do I do with this thing"

Mikey started jerking one of his dicks, his head fell back slamming against the door as he felt the best pleasure he's felt in his entire life. It was barely 30 second before he came and his dick squirted cum over his chest and wall. Mikey couldn't help but move onto the next one, feeling the intense pleasure, and again and then again. By the time he finished one another was rock solid. Mikey stood up wiping the cum off his massive body, moaning at his full cock udder than still felt like it was gonna burst.

Mikey walked to his bedroom and saw his huge body in the mirror, he flexed and posed his new huge muscles, he was the biggest man he's ever seen. His body took up most of his mirror and his giant hand struggled to hold his phone. His eyes wondered down his enormous frame.

Mikey let out a deep sigh dropping his phone on the ground. He stared at the massive cock udder that was now the size of a beach ball. He wrapped both his hands around his, jiggling it up and down hearing sloshing from inside. The four dicks instantly became hard from the slightest touch. Mikey have it a slight squeeze watching as all four dicks squirted cum onto his mirror.

"Oh god, I look like a fucking cow..."

---

hope you ladz can enjoy this one, its been a while and I'm trying to get back into the swing of it all.

[carmenized-onions]

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

[rizsu]

wife on the low manjiro, sanzu.

sum. babysitter!reader. idk where i was going with this one

manjirō sano

tension. too much tension. it's not easy trying to focus on a happy baby when you have two eyes digging through your soul. his gaze is terrifying—whether it's just the way he's just there quietly or the fact that he's bonten's leader, you don't know. he's a scary man.

trying your best to ignore whatever he's doing, you focus on cheerful baby that's been slapping her hands continuously on the little container with water.

she's five months currently so you decided it's time for sensory playtime! starting off with water and slowly adding little sensory toys into the container as she plays.

“it's getting messy.”

“oh—should we stop?”

“no, continue. i'll clean up.”

mikey pushes himself off of the door's frame and wanders off to some room for a mop. he walks away with thoughts swimming in his head; delusional thoughts if you asked him.

he doesn't really know what is it that he's feeling. is it love? dunno. he never felt it in a long time. well, it's not like he remembers what love felt like—he didn't even love the mother of his daughter. hell he can't even remember what possessed him to have sex.

coming back into the playroom, he stills for a moment. cute, he thinks. you look fitting like that. something about the way you're giggling with his daughter while she babbles words only those of her kind understands really makes his heart swell.

“'m back,” he announces after a good few minutes of gawking.

moving the baby onto her crib, you pinch her cheek before going to help mikey.

so close, you think. his body's just above yours—close to the point where you can feel his sweater on your head. his hands moves on yours taking hold of the container.

you made the mistake of glancing at him,, now you're stuck gazing into his static eyes, looking for any hints of his current emotion.

five seconds turned into ten and he doesn't break the eye contact. rather, his right hand glides from the container and rests itself on your cheek.

does he know why he did that? no.

is he going to elaborate? also no.

a few more minutes in wondering silence until he breaks it.

“you're pretty.”

oh!

it takes a minute to process it; eyes opened but still looking into his. mikey drifts his gaze from your lips and back to your eyes. he shows no signs of taking back what he said.

“thank...you..?”

chuckling, he notes your confusion and decides to fuel it by saying: “you're welcome. be my girlfriend.”

sanzu haruchiyo

“pick a colour: blue or red.”

“how about no!” hoisting up his daughter on your hip, you circle around the table making your way to the kitchen as you ignore his attempts of getting you to pick the drug of the day.

sanzu raises his eyebrow at you. you sure have a lot of nerve in front of someone that can easily kill you but he won't. why would he kill you when he isn't sure if he, sober!sanzu, loves you or if he, high!sanzu, is just fucking around.

eh, it's not like he's worried. that's something for future him to worry about!!

“sanzu, her formula's about to end!” shouting from the kitchen as you violently shake her bottle, you faced your focus more on the quiet eight month old rather than the twenty-eight years old father.

“is that all?” sanzu moves on arm behind the couch as he looks back at you. she's a natural with kids—especially mine, he thinks. he's going to blame the drugs for that even though he's very much sober.

“yeah, is it okay if i use your card? i need to stock up on the groceries too.” you explained, dropping a few droplets of the milk on your forearm to check the temp.

“why're you askin' me? it's your card. i took it out for you.”

“because i don't wanna—oh???” you paused. sanzu, your boss, couldn't have possibly taken out another card for you right? certainly, right? god, it's so hard to focus after he said those words. you try to not think too much of it but it's just too difficult.

lost in thought, you didn't realize that he's already in front of you, holding up his mini to give her a nose kiss before looking back at you.

“looks like she's finished. let's go.” walking towards to door, sanzu grabs his keys from the holder along with his mask.

“huh—oh, right her stuff. just a minute!” you can't seem to think coherently, not when those words still linger fresh in your mind.

maybe it's the drugs,

maybe it's you,

maybe it's him,

maybe it's the way he holds your hand firmly while smiling whenever an elderly lady compliments your little “family”,

or maybe it's the way he guides you into his room at night after his daughter fell asleep, pulling you into a kiss that answers all questions.

[dyeher]

“Gentlemen,” Mikey says.

His voice doesn’t rise above its regular volume but the single word is enough to quiet the room of executives settled around the conference table.

He's standing at one end, a hand in the pocket of his slacks, the other tapping a random rhythm into the mahogany surface of the table as he regards his...what did you say these men were to him?

They're your friends Mikey.

His friends. Right.

He eyes Ran Haitani who balances on the back legs of the chair he's sitting on precariously. His loafer-clad feet crossed at the ankles on the table. Next to him, his brother sighs deeply, his thumb and forefinger massaging circles into the bridge of his nose.

Opposite them, Kokonoi and Kakucho appear deceptively calm. Kokonoi is chewing diligently on a piece of gum. His attempt at quitting cigarettes. Kakucho has one arm slung along the back of Koko's chair, his legs spread as he slouches in his chair. His eyes are closed, his head tipped back against the headrest. If Mikey didn't know better he'd think Kakucho was recovering from a night out drinking.

Of course, the truth is much wilder than Kakucho spending a night on the town.

Takeomi is absent. Naturally. Sanzu is sprawled in his own chair at the other end of the table. His guns are on the table as he shines his katana.

Mikey considers everything he's been through with the men in this room.

If you can let me in, then you can let them in.

He shudders as your words wash through him. You're like his fucking conscience. It's simultaneously the most unnerving and wonderful experience he's ever had. A voice of reason that isn't being paid in his blood money. He glances at Kakucho again quickly.

If you think these men have stuck around because you're paying them then you're dumber than I thought, Mikey.

Sanzu gently places his katana on the table and shakes out the little cloth he was using to shine it. He gives Mikey his full attention. the action seems to stir the others who also turn to him. Kakucho lifts a single brow at him in question.

And the action sets of something akin to...gratitude in Mikey. It's a wildly unfamiliar sensation and he has to quell the urge to rub his chest.

They would die for you, Mikey.

Yes, they would. He catches a glimpse of a cut running along Rindou Haitani's chest as the man shifts in his chair. The skin is shiny and puckered from healing and a pang goes off in his chest that almost knocks him on his ass.

These men would die for him.

A sudden clarity comes over him and he has to blink several times to reorient himself. It feels almost like someone has ripped whatever ill-fitting glasses he was wearing before off and he can see clearly now. Jesus Christ, these men would die for him.

He sinks heavily into his own chair. The weight of his previous oversight anchors him to the cushion.

"I have news," he blurts.

The words suck the air out of the room. Silence ensues for a handful of seconds and then...

"Oh my God, you knocked her up!"

Rindou reaches Ran before Mikey can react to his exclaimed words and slaps his brother in the back of the head.

"I-" Mikey starts, blinking in confusion. What?

"Jesus Christ Ran, so what if he has?" Rindou interrupts, glaring at his brother.

"I di-" Mikey tries again, his brows furrowed.

"That actually...that makes sense," Kokonoi says slowly, nodding. "I saw her eat half a cake by herself the other night."

Kakcuho is gaping at Mikey. But there's a twinkle in his eye that makes Mikey nervous.

"Wait a min-"

"I thought you'd never notice," Sanzu laughs from the other end of the table and Mikey's skin chills.

What?

"What?" He zones out. Something in his voice must get the others attention because the room goes quiet.

"That's not...the news?" Ran squints at him, his chair making a thudding sound as he settles onto all four legs.

Mikey swallows around a ball of spit that seems to be stuck in the back of his throat. Pregnant.

No- she can't be- she- but- but the crying...and the sensitive breasts. the cravings.

"I was going to say I'm getting married," he says, hollowly.

"Oh shit," Sanzu breathes.

"Fuck, Mikey."

"I thought it was obvi-" Kokonoi shrugs.

"She agreed to marry you?" Ran interjects. "Without-" he pauses to glance around the room quickly and then lowers his voice as he finishes his question "-putting up a fight?"

That gets the rooms attention.

"What the fuck kinda question is that?" Kakucho frowns. "She's in love with him."

That seems to throw Ran for a loop. His eyes narrow on Mikey who's still stupified by the realization that he might become a father and husband in the same breath.

"Maybe there is hope for me," Ran says.

Sanzu snaps at him. "Are you implying Mikey doesn't deserve her?"

Ran splutters. "What? No- Why the fuck would I-"

"Just be quiet," Rindou sighs.

"You really think she's pregnant?" Mikey asks, interrupting their squabble.

"Yes," Koko nods.

"Absolutely,” Rindou agrees.

"Half a fucking cake Mikey...in a single sitting."

Mikey blanches. “She’s pregnant.”

Koko chuckles.

“She’s fucking pregnant,” he repeats. There’s a note of distress in his tone. “With a baby. A child!?”

Kakucho gives him a knowing look. “Congratulations, Manjiro.”

Sanzu, who has been uncharacteristically quiet stands. “This means she can’t say no to a protection detail anymore.”

Mikey’s brain stutters. Protection. Because shes pregnant with your child and about to become your wife. She’s singlehandedly the most important person to Bonten. And to him.

“Oh fuck.”

Rindou shakes his head. “We need to start personally vetting Bonten members now.”

“Why did it take a child and a marriage to convince you of that and not the two times we’ve been double crossed?” Kakucho questions.

“Do you want to deal with a Mikey whose wife and child are hurt or murdered?”

The room falls quiet as all eyes fall to Kokonoi. A heavy tension settles on Mikey’s shoulders. He’s having a child. Maybe. And getting married. Definitely.

And he runs one of the most dangerous organizations in the world. With over a hundred thousand employees worldwide. And stakes in every major and even some minor pies, in every industry.

He’s not sure of much except his own success and frankly, inhuman work ethic. But as the realization that his life is changing. Developing into something better, something more. He’s sure that if anything ever happens to you or his unborn child…he would unravel.

“Can we circle back to her wanting to marry him?” Ran asks, breaking the tension. “Without being coerced?”

[kenslilove]

᯽៰ ͘ ࣭⸰ 𖥔 ͙ࣳ Who’s Little Sister?! Pt.2

preview: You called him your boyfriend? Why would you do that? Draken isn't sure he's cut out to be the boyfriend to Takemichi's precious little sister...

ft. Ken "Draken" Ryuuguji x fem!reader

wc. 9kish... help 🫠🤪😰😵‍💫🥴🤡

W. NFSW 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (Draken is in his late 20’s and owns the bike shop, reader is in their early 20’s in university), fem reader (takemichi’s little sister), crybaby/bimbo reader, angsty in the middle, Draken is very insecure of his ability to be in a relationship, slight exhibitionism (Draken fucks you while on call), multiple cream pies, messy make-outs, oral (m!receiving), mating press, squirting, lots of praise, aftercare, lots of pet names, it gets soft and passionate at the end 🥹🥹

an. The long-awaited part 2 of “Who’s Little Sister.” I put my heart, soul, and pussy into this piece. I think it's my favourite thing I've ever written in all honesty, it very much encapsulates how I think Draken’s and I’s relationship would start. God, I love him so much. It’s also the first time I've written anything remotely angsty though, and I can’t tell if it's lame or not LMFAO. Please, let me know what you think. I'm so very happy to be reposting this piece on this blog to share with yall, it’s literally so important to me <33 and I’m so so happy this is the fic that is bringing back my writing spark! Part 3 will hopefully be even better than this 🙏🏼🤭 Constructive feedback, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. 

extra note: Listen to “Nothings gonna hurt you baby.” By Cigarettes After Sex during the last scene. It’s Kenny’s and I’s selfship song and help inspired me for the ending <33

tagging: @enchantedforest-network @eveningatthemoviesnetwork and @shoyosdoll bc you've been such a supporter of this fic hehe <33 i hope you love part 2 as much as part 1 <33

“Draken-Kun, are you coming tonight?” 

There was silence on Draken’s end of the phone as all the other males on-call waited for a response. Mikey was the first one to say something back, annoyance clear in his tone as he spoke directly into the receiver, making his voice sound much louder than necessary. 

“Oi, Ken-Chin, get off the phone if you’re just gonna ignore us.” 

“Sorry–” Draken finally responded, his voice seeming just a bit more… strained than usual. Not enough for the boys to notice until he grunted softly, what seemed to be creaking or something muffled in the background of his audio call. 

“You good, dude?” Mitsuya piped up, his own voice a little muffled due to a sewing needle between his lips but nothing like Draken’s. 

“Oh yea, fuckin peachy–” Draken breathed in response, his huff coming out as a soft laugh when a bit of sweat started to roll down his temple. 

If he was being honest, he wasn’t really paying attention to the call, how could he, when you, Takemichi’s precious little sister was underneath him, sprawled out and trembled as his cock drilled into you at a steady pace. You were biting down on your bottom lip so hard, Draken swore that blood would free itself soon from the delicate flesh, your eyes screwed shut as your pretty chest bounced with each thrust of his hips. You were trying so hard for him to be quiet, just like he instructed as soon as he picked up the phone. The attempt was adorable, considering how vocal you usually were for him. 

But Draken was twisted, he knew that deep down, so he just couldn’t help himself when he angled his hips just right so his cock head would jab right into that gummy sweet spot within your walls. You yelped, pleasure shooting up your spine, only for the sound to be cut off by the smack of Draken’s free palm clamping over your mouth. 

“Who has a girl over~?” Baji piped up, suddenly very much interested in the conversation. Draken laughed shallowly into his receiver, his hand tightening up along your jaw as he continued to ram into the spot that made you see stars. You couldn’t even control your babbles when he did this, an endless stream of whimpers and sobs being muffled into his palm as you held onto his wrist for dear life. 

“Gotta go, Text me what time I needa be there–” Draken didn’t wait for a response from his friends. Instead, he hung up quickly, abandoning the device somewhere on the bed. When he released the hold on your mouth you whined at him, the tears finally spilling from your eyes. 

“K-Kenny, Kenny please– Please–!” 

“So fuckin loud pretty, all the damn time,” Draken says it with a grin, easily manhandling your thighs over his shoulders so he can fuck into you deeper. He presses a kiss to your ankle, right beside the anklet he bought you as your pussy flutters so desperately around his cock. 

“O-Oh! Please, Ken–!”

“Please what?” Draken grunts, his hips slapping up against yours ruthlessly now as his release comes dangerously close. He knew you weren’t far behind. Had learned your signs very early on. Your toes would curl, your eyes would get foggy, chest stuttering. Your pussy would milk him so tight and leave rings of arousal on his cock. 

And he loved every second of it. 

“Wanna cum, needa cum again–!” you pleaded with him, nails digging into the muscles of his flexing biceps. He nodded in agreement, his own voice becoming hoarse due to the sheer squeeze of your pussy. Although his pace started to get sloppy he still fucked into you, one hand slithering between your sweaty bodies in order to massage ruthlessly at your clit. 

“Go on then, cum, make a fuckin mess f’me gorgeous.” He breathes, licking his lips when you throw your head back with a cry. The mess you make on his cock is breathtaking, arousal squirting from your used hole and dousing his hand, wrist and abs. He swears under his breath at the borderline painful grip your pussy has on his cock when you finish, one final thrust allowing him to spill ropes of cum right up against your cervix. 

Draken’s trembling when he falls onto his elbows over you, his breath coming out a bit shaky as his cock still twitches within your walls in the aftermath of both of your highs. He starts pressing wet, opened-mouthed kisses along your neck and face to help you come too, a soft chuckle leaving his lips when you whine softly. 

“You okay baby?” His voice is a whisper, and as the energy slowly comes back to you he smooths his palm over your cheek, thumb swiping under your eye to pick up leftover tears. You nod, one of your trembly hands lazily dragging through his black locks of hair. “Mhm, m’good, Kenny. Help me sit up?” He does, one big palm on the back of your neck to help you to sit up against the headboard. 

He presses a smooch to your lips before easing himself out of you, both of you wincing softly from the loss of contact. It’s only when he pulls out completely and his softening cock falls against his thigh that he realises just how big of a mess the two of you made of yourself and the sheets. It makes him swell with pride, a grin slowly curling on his lips. 

You’ve come a long way, from the sweet girl who was just learning to cream on his cock to the messes you’ve made on his bed on the daily. 

“M’gunna get a cloth.” He says, handing you a glass of water and your phone as soon as he stands to keep you occupied. His muscles are still a bit tingly as he stands, arms stretching up and above his head as he heads towards the bathroom. 

“Nice butt!” You call out, making him snort softly as he stands before the bathroom mirror. He can’t help but admire the marks you’ve littered across his neck and chest, the cute little bruises reminding him of the shape of your puckered lips. He then examines the nail marks you’ve left along his forearms and shoulders, some of the red pathways breaking in the middle to show little droplets of blood. Lastly, he sighs dreamily at the sheen of your arousal that coats his pelvis, a ring of white still layered at his base. 

Man knew he was in heaven. 

When he came back to the bedroom after tidying himself a bit, as well as with a cloth in hand you were on the phone with someone, giggling into the receiver and looking up at Draken with a playful glint in your eye. 

“I’ll actually meet with you later, m’with my boyfriend right now~” Despite the way your giggling increased and you squealed to your friend about how you’ve mentioned him before with such excitement, Draken was anything but that. 

His chest tightened up, crease forming between his brow. Boyfriend? When did that become his title? 

“Kennnnnny~” You snapped him out of his thoughts, though his brows stayed furrowed. “Hurry! The mess is only getting bigger over here.”

One hand was planted on the mattress as he gently wiped the dampened towel over your pussy and thighs, your hand coming to cover his, making him pause in your tracks. “Shouldn’t scowl so much, handsome.” You murmur it gently, thumb gently smoothing between his brows in an attempt to fix the crinkles there. “You’ll get wrinkles~”

“You called me your boyfriend–” His voice was blunt, which took you by slight surprise. A little pout formed on your swollen lower lip as you subconsciously squeezed at his wrist. 

“Well, yea–”

“We haven’t talked about that.” He was still being blunt as ever, so much so it almost startled you, made you feel much smaller under him as he sat up on his hunched, throwing the soiled cloth into the laundry bin. 

“I-I know…” You simply muttered, chest started to feel tight as you watched just how serious his face had become. He was tugging his strands of black hair into a low bun when you sat up a bit more, fingers gently brushing over his chest. “But I just thought, thought that we were together…”

And it wasn’t wrong for you to think that way. Ever since that first night at Draken’s apartment the two of you had been secretly hanging out. You went out to restaurants, and the local arcade took his bike to the mountainside and watched the sunset. The two of you had bought little things for one another, like the gold anklet that sat pretty on your ankle and the hello kitty keychain that was currently attached to his bike keys. You even made sure to turn off your location so Takemichi couldn’t see just how often you were having sleepovers at Draken’s place. 

You two did the things that couples did together. You two did the things that you saw Takemichi and Hina do on the regular. Dare you even say, you did things with Draken that he and Emma used to do–

Plus, he was fucking you every chance he got. 

“Well, maybe you shoulda thought about talkin to me about it first before you go squealing that I’m your boyfriend.” His tone was harsher than he wanted it to be, a tone he usually used with his friends but never really with you. It had you suck in a soft breath, suddenly feeling very exposed curled up in nothing but his bedsheets. 

“You don’t have to be so mean–” 

“M’not being mean, I’m being realistic. It ain’t cute to just assume I’m your boyfriend when we haven’t talked about anything official.” He was off the bed now, tugging up his boxers. When you didn’t respond he sighed. “We hang out and fuck around, why do we need to be more than–” 

When he turned around again to look you in the eye his own voice caught in his throat. Your eyes had gotten wide, a glossy layer of tears hiding the usual beautiful shine your gaze held. Your lower lip was trembling softly, fingers clutching onto the covers so tightly he noticed how your knuckles turned white. 

“Hey–” 

“M’gunna go.” You interrupted, the crack in your tone only making his heart plummet harder in his chest. As you got to your feet, his blanket securely wrapped around you he grabbed both your shoulders. 

“Hey, don’t be like that (Y/N), you don’t even have a ride–” 

“Gunna call Michi.” You slipped out of his grasp by tucking yourself out from under his hands, bending to grab at your clothes scattered across the ground. 

“Like hell you are. We’re not telling him about us, remember what happened last time?” Draken could still hear the boy's ruthless comments after that first night, the crack of Baji’s fist against his jaw– 

“Don’t care, wanna go home.” Your muttering had gotten softer, ready to slip into the bathroom and shut the door right in his face. 

“Would you stop being such a brat?” Draken grabbed at your arm this time, tugging it back towards him. He himself hadn’t expected it to be so forceful, the little squeak you released and the falling of tears instantly making him let go of you. You both stared at each other a little shocked, Draken’s breath froze in his throat and his fingertips went a bit cold as you looked at him. 

Teary-eyed, shrunken in. Scared. Were you scared of him? 

Without a word, you finally went into the bathroom, and it was only then that Draken let out his frustrated breath, cheeks feeling hot as he clenched his fists up at his sides. Fuck, what the fuck was happening right now. He hated this nonsense, hated just how frustrated he felt, hated that look on your face, hated that he couldn’t even really understand what emotions were running through his head. 

Why was he mad anyway? Why was any of this really a big deal? 

He used his own phone to call you a cab, knowing you wouldn’t actually call Takemichi to pick you up. You had also gotten an ear full after getting caught, and as much as you trusted your brother, the last thing you needed right now was a lecture. You stayed locked in the bathroom until Draken gave the wood a gentle knock with his knuckles. 

“Cabs here…” He murmured. You didn’t look at him when you walked out, eyes bloodshot and downcast and when slipped past him fully clothed. He watched from the ledge of his bed, jaw set rigid as you so casually adjusted your bag over your shoulder, now a little overfilled with the stuff you had started to accumulate in his bathroom. Something slipped from your fingertips onto his kitchen counter before you made a beeline for the door, Draken only getting up when it closed firmly behind you. 

He approached slowly, that odd feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach seeming to grow, expanding into his chest as he noticed the subtle twinkle on the countertop. It was the anklet he bought you, dainty, gold, shiny, his initials hanging from the small tag. 

“Fuck—!“ His emotions boiled over into anger, face red when his fist connected with the drywall. A crack formed in the white fall, his knuckles taking on a deep purple almost instantly as he pulled his clenched fist back to his side. Instead, he let his forehead rest in the dent he just made, thoughts spiralling, making his heart pound in his chest. 

Had he really just done that? Made a big deal over nothing? Put his hands on you? And for what? 

You called him your boyfriend… was that really… so wrong? 

Was he really so set on “not being a sister fucker”, did he really care so much about what the boys thought, what people said about him, that he was willing to let you go? 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed leaned up against the wall like that, thoughts running wildly through his mind, making it pound. Eventually, when his eyes started to get sore, narrowing down in an attempt to hold back unwanted angry tears he moved back to his room to plop himself down into bed. And he didn’t get up for the rest of the evening. 

It had been a week. 

One whole week since you had left Draken’s apartment, and the two of you had not spoken since. Day three was when Draken caved and texted you, considering you had turned your location off for him so he couldn’t check up on you from time to time. 

“Are you okay? Please, we need to talk.” 

Radio silence. The message was left unread by you. He even sent another the day after, just a quick message but a little more firm than the last. 

“Don’t shut me out like this.” 

And still, nothing. It was killing Draken from the inside out. Each day that passed made him more anxious than the last. Were you okay? Did you hate him now? Were you crying to your brother? Draken couldn’t ask Takemichi about you, cause he didn’t even know you two were a thing in the first place. But every time he saw his black-haired friend his heart would stutter, tightening up in his chest. 

You laughed just like he did. Were you laughing right now? 

Draken had a bad habit of letting things like this consume him. Almost everything seemed to remind him of you or something the two of you had done and it was driving him a little crazy. And all because you had called him your boyfriend. 

All because Draken was afraid to commit to someone again despite his need to do so. All of his friends always thought he was so mature, and yet here he was, working through feelings that were staring him right in the face like some teenage boy. 

He kept his headphones in at the shop, his body hunched slightly on the stool he set up beside the bike he was currently repairing. The music was loud, drowning out not only the background noise but his thoughts that seem to repeat themselves over and over. His brows were slightly furrowed when he lifted from the busted engine only a moment, just enough to wipe away excess sweat that built up on his brow. 

That’s when he caught a glimpse of you. It made his heart pause mid-beat, breath hitching in his throat. He caught the last bits of you as you rounded the corner that led up the stairs, probably in search of Takemichi But that didn’t matter. 

Draken found himself scurrying from his seat, the stool skidding from under him as he was quick to follow suit. With long strides, he made it to the stairs and there you were, hand on the railing, one of those cute little skirts he loved hugging your waist just right. He called out to you, twice actually, quickly pulling his headphones from his ears when you actually turned to look at him. 

“Hey–” 

“I won’t be long.” You simply responded, voice sounding much too sad for Draken’s liking. He noticed how your hand tensed up on the railing when he approached and it made him frown. “I’m just grabbing something for Michi–”

“I wanna talk to you.” He took another step, a tentative one. He hated how your eyes were already getting a little glassy. “Let’s just talk, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna talk, Ken.” There was that familiar shake in your tone, the one he had become very aware of. You were just like your brother in so many ways.

His sweet little crybaby. 

“C’mere…” He was on the step right in front of you now, the levelling allowing him to lean down just a bit so his face could be close to yours. You took your time meeting his gaze, fingers now fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. “It’s okay baby…” 

“You–” He could tell you were trying to gather your bearings, trying so desperately not to crumble and let the tears fall that were already sitting in your lashes. He was patient with you, scared that if he went in too strong you’d just run off from him again. You sucked in a shaky breath before continuing. “You really hurt me, Draken.” 

He could have hissed, chest getting a little tight. He hated the way that nickname sounded coming from you. 

“I know, I know little love and–” 

“Do you not wanna be my boyfriend? I thought you liked me.” 

“I do like you–”

“Then be my boyfriend.” It had been a bit more firm than he expected, your brows set and a little pout on your lips after you spoke it. Had things been a little different, he would have told you just how proud he was of you for standing your ground like that. 

“It’s not, it's just not that simple.” It was his turn to think his words over, lips catching between his teeth as those doubtful thoughts started returning to him. He was right, wasn’t he? It wasn’t that simple because– 

“Why not?” You were being blunt again, words bordering on angry as you sniffled. The first few tears finally fell and Draken wanted nothing more than to wipe them away. 

“Well to start, there’s your brother–” 

“I don’t care what Michi thinks!” You groaned it out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I wanna be with you, Ken–” 

“But–” He really hated that he couldn’t seem to find the right words. 

“What are you so afraid of?”  

That really made Draken stop, eyes widening just a bit as he looked back into your teary ones. Your chest was heaving a bit as the silence sat heavily between the two of you. Draken blinked, once, twice, brain reeling over this one simple question. 

Draken had been in many fights, grew up in a brothel, seen blood and gore and sex and a lot of things people shouldn’t see. He wasn’t scared any of those times. So, why now? Why was he so scared now as he looked into your eyes that were basically pleading with him for an answer. 

“I–” His words were shaky, and finally broke the intense gaze the two of you were sharing as he looked down. “I dunno.” 

There was another beat of silence before you continued up the staircase. Draken only looked up when he knew you were at the top, far enough away from him that he didn’t have to feel like your gaze was piercing him. He wished that he didn’t look though, wished that he hadn’t seen that sad smile on your lips. 

He never wanted to see that ever again, not on you. 

“I hope I’ll still be around when you figure it out.” 

Drake wasn’t sure how much time had passed now since he had seen you. The first few days he refused to even think about that interaction on the stairs. That sad smile of yours easily pulls his heart apart and thinking back on it only made him more and more pissed at himself. 

So instead of thinking of you, he filled his time with work. He found himself opening and closing the shop, despite Inui trying to make him go back to their balanced schedule. He took on more projects, burying himself under the weight of grease and bolts instead of dealing with the weight that now sat in his chest.

You hadn’t come back to the shop yet either, he had a feeling you’d never come back. 

What got Draken out of work early one night was a call from Mitsuya. He called twice before Draken reluctantly picked up the phone, the annoyance clear in his tone as he held the phone to his ear with his shoulder. 

“Ya know m’working–” 

“Well, you sound just delighted to hear from me~” Mitsuya hummed, chuckling when he heard Draken’s grunt from the other end of the phone. Mitsuya was organising threads by colour when he spoke. “Come over tonight?” 

“I don’t feel like partying,” Draken answered back right away. What he meant though was that he didn’t wanna go in case Takemichi was there because then he would only remind him of– 

“It’s not gonna be a party doofus, it’ll just be us two.” Draken made a look of disgust, more so at the insult than anything else. “Just come.” 

“I have shit to do here–” He was trying his best to get out of this, but if anyone could see through Draken’s bullshit, it was Mitsuya. 

“You’ve locked yourself in that damn shop for the past week, I know you can make a little time to go out. Let Inui close tonight.”

“Nah, it’s my night.” It wasn’t.

“Bet you haven’t even showered.” 

“Oh fuck off–” Draken grunted, sniffing himself only because Mitsuya wasn’t there to give him the side-eye. He scowled softly to himself when the scent he picked up coming from his overalls was far from pleasant. “Will you quit nagging me if I come, mom?” 

“Absolutely buddy.” Mitsuya was chuckling softly, rolling in his chair to pull back up to his sewing table. “See you at 7, doofus.” 

Draken wasn’t given the opportunity to snap back with something clever, the phone went dead right away. With a huff Draken resultantly found himself putting his tools away, tucking his overused workbench in its proper corner so he could head off to Mistuya’s. 

But not without a shower first. 

Draken’s hair was still damp when he headed for Mitsuya’s place. With how fast Draken sped his bike down the freeway, it only took about ten minutes tops. Draken lugged a case of beer with him up to the familiar walkway that belonged to Mitsuya’s townhouse. When he opened the door he still had his work glasses on, a lazy grin tugging on his features when he was met with the sight of Draken’s scowling face. 

“Would you look at that, he showered.”

Draken just rolled his eyes, nudging past Mitsuya and making himself at home. The two found themselves quickly situated on the couch, spread out on each end and open beers on coasters. Mitsuya had pulled out his old N64, so the two were currently in a round of Mario kart. The silence had been comfortable between the two, as it usually was until Mitsuay finally decided to speak up. 

“So, what's got you fucked up?” 

“What?” Draken said with a short laugh, his eyes staying glued to the tv screen. 

“You only get all solitary like this when something is really bothering you, so–” 

“Nothin’s up, m’good.” Draken simply grunted, which quickly turned into a scowl when Mitusya passed him for first place in the game. “Quit distracting me.” 

“Is it Takemichi’s little sister?”

Draken almost choked on his beer, finally looking away from the screen to look at Mitsuya who was still calm as ever. Only after he passed the finish line did he meet Draken’s gaze, one brow lifted up. 

“What about her?” 

“You were seeing her–” 

“I was not.” 

Now it was Mitsuya’s turn to laugh, a hearty one too that only made Draken’s brows furrow further. He pulled his glasses from his face, sighing out as he shook his head. 

“You think you’re so hard to read, but you’re not.” Mitsuya kept talking before Draken could bark at him. “I know you kept seeing her after that night.” 

“Okay, so?” Draken wasn’t sure why he was getting so defensive, maybe it was because it pissed him off that Mitsuya knew him better than he knew himself. 

“So, did you two break up?”

“We were never together.” Draken simply stated, going to start another round of Mario kart. But as soon as the words left his lips he hated the way they sounded, and now that they were out there, floating around his head it made him grip his controller a little tighter. 

“Oh, you weren’t?” Mitsuya said, that dumb smile of his making Draken shake his head, grit his teeth even. It was Mitsuya’s turn to scoff, tipping his beer back to polish it off. “You are such a fuckin doofus dude.” 

“Watch your mouth man–” 

“Why are ya doing this to yourself?” Draken sucked in a little breath. The silence hung in the air between them a little and Mitsuya rolled his eyes when he saw how Draken’s head tipped slightly to the side in confusion. He continued as he opened up another beer. “Why aren’t you letting yourself be happy? You can do commitment, you’ve done it before.” 

Draken felt a little frozen in place, eyes unfocused as he tried to process what Mitsuya had so obviously laid out for him. His heart started to pick up in his chest as he really thought it over, well at least tried to. “Yea, I did it before and look what happened.” 

Flashes of his relationship with Emma were impossible to ignore. How things went from wonderful to terrible so quickly. How the two of them became each other's world so fast for it all to crash and burn. The fighting, the lies, how he was so scared after he lost her but to also lose everyone he loved. His found family was all he had, and if they had decided to up and leave– 

“Sure, it was a bad breakup,” Mitsuya spoke with a simple shrug of his shoulders, looking at Draken’s pained face over the lip of his bottle. “But it didn’t stay bad, did it?” 

“Guess not…” Draken murmured. It didn’t. He didn’t lose his best friends, he didn’t even really lose Emma. After time apart and some growing up, the two had gone back to speaking terms. 

“So, let yourself be happy, dude.” 

“But she’s another little sister–” 

“Yea you have a type.” Mitsuya couldn’t help but laugh, especially after Draken sent his controller flying at him. Mitsuya thankfully caught it, holding a hand up in defence. “Relax! I’m joking… The boys are gonna bug you about it, but Draken, who the fuck cares.” 

Draken slowly nodded at that, allowing himself to really think it all over. He had never been the type to care so much about what others thought about him. He was letting himself get in his head for something that was already over and done with. Rubbing his hand over his forehead, he picked up another beer, shaking his head as he twisted the top off to chug some of it down. 

“I hate you, you know that?” He mumbled to Mitsuya, which only made him laugh out loud in response. He clinked his bottle up against Draken’s. 

“Love you too buddy. You should really make up with her.” Draken eyed Mitsuya over the lip of his beer. “I assume you said some dumb guy shit to her.” 

Draken pouted, mumbling something along the lines of “maybe I did” before he took another drink. Looking down the stem of the bottle Draken sighed softly, thinking of that sad smile on your face. It made him scoff at himself. “I just– I’m not sure I’ll be able to treat her right, as her boyfriend.” 

“Well, she’s stuck around this long, hasn’t she?” Mitsuya started to set up another game of Mario Kart for the two of them as Draken nodded slowly. “I’m sure if she didn’t think you’d treat her right, she woulda left.” 

Those couple words were left lingering in Draken’s head the rest of the evening. Mitsuya didn’t bring it up again, and Draken didn’t dare to. But as he started to pass out on his friend's couch, he had one too many beers to be driving himself home, he really thought over what Mitsuya had said. What he knew was right. 

I’m sure if she didn’t think you'd treat her right, she woulda left. 

Draken chuckled softly to himself, his palm coming up to slap him right on the forehead. The sting made him hiss to himself, but it's what he deserved. He’d never admit it out loud, but sometimes he wished his brain worked the way Mitsuya’s did. 

“I’m such an idiot.” He spoke, and it was Mitsuya sleepy agreeing with him on the couch beside him that had him laughing all over again. 

He knew you’d be finishing classes up on campus right now, had picked you up and dropped you off many times before to know that you’d be coming out of the big college building any minute now. He parked right out front, his hands dug deep into his pockets as he watched the door. His eyes scanned over many faces, all different kinds, all of them filtering through, onyx gaze trying to lock onto– 

You. 

You were in the middle of giggling, those familiar wrinkles showing up around the corners of your eyes, your pretty manicured nails holding the books you had tighter to your chest. The image made him smile fondly, lips upturned just a little when the two of you finally made eye contact. 

He was more than grateful that you returned the small smile. The darkest parts of him had conceived him; you'd simply walk right by him, or even turn around in the opposite direction. But instead, you excused yourself from your friends, who all couldn’t help but side-eye the older, imitating dude leaning on a motorcycle, dragon tattoo on full display with his hair pulled up in a loose ponytail. As you approach he speaks, unable to keep his eyes off your own. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi, Ken.” Just the way you say his name makes his heart flutter a little. He moves to the side, opening up the small compartment on his bike that’ll allow you to put your books inside. 

“Come with me?” He asks, and the momentary silence makes him feel more nervous than he had in a long time. You could say no, he could have taken too long. You could have already slipped right out of his fingertips and it would be all his fault– 

“Okay.” You simply reply, and your smile doesn’t falter. It stays as you tuck your books away, as he places his helmet on your bread and helps you adjust the straps. You in front of him on the bike just as you had on that first night he picked you up. His hands easily swallowed yours on the handlebars, and before you knew it the two of you were speeding off towards his place. You knew that because the route had become too familiar after the many times he’d whisked you away after school. Your heart was beating fast in your chest like it normally did when you rode on Draken’s bike. It filled you with a type of adrenaline you hadn’t been able to find anywhere else. 

That and the fact that his hands seemed to be holding yours tighter than usual. 

After a couple of sharp turns and uphill roads, you two made it to Draken’s apartment. He gave you your space as you two headed to his room a couple of floors up, his heart seeming to be in his throat. He needed to relax, he knew exactly what he had to say to you, knew what he had to do, and yet as he fiddled with his keys a bit to find the right one that opened his apartment, the familiar scent of your perfume was making his brain a little foggy. 

It was the warmth of your fingers that shook him from whatever haze he was in, the tips of his ears feeling a bit hot as your fingers easily tugged the right key, helped him slip it into the lock. “It’s this one, Ken.” You say it as if your presence alone isn’t making him weak at the knees. 

He just nodded, allowing you in first. Shoes were slipped off and the two of you found yourself in his kitchen. You stood right in the middle, your arms tucked neatly behind your back, hands clasped. He missed the way you used to make yourself at home, grabbing something from his fridge or sprawling out on his couch. 

He wanted you to be that comfortable again. 

“I really needed to see you.” He started, his voice a little hesitant. He cleared his throat, fingers once again in his pockets. He looked everywhere but at you, despite the way he felt your gentle gaze burning into him. “I needed, I just–” He huffed. “I really fucked up–” 

There was your familiar warmth again, but instead, you were grabbing at one of his hands. So easily your fingers threaded into his, and suddenly the weight in his tummy didn’t feel all that heavy as he looked down at you, those wide pretty eyes he had missed so fucking much. “You did kinda fuck up–” You murmur, which makes him huff again, this time with a hint of laughter behind it. “I know I did. I know.”

He pulled you in a little closer, and he was so very grateful that you weren't resistant. In fact, you melted into his chest, your face finding that familiar comfortable spot against his peck, cheek pressed up against where you felt his heartbeat, which was currently pounding in his chest. He sucks in another breath, one hand coming to gently pet your head. “I’m sorry, I’m real sorry sweetheart…” He feels the way you start to tremble and it eats at him, brows furrowing up. “Please, don’t babygirl, m’tryna apologise to you–” 

“Don’t be dumb like that ever again Ken.” Your voice waves and he knows you’re about to cry, but he doesn't stop you from speaking, if anything, your shaky words only make him hold you tighter, a fond smile coming to his lips. “Don’t leave me like that again!” Your voice cracks and Ken has to chuckle under his breath, but there's no bite to his laughter, only fondness. “Next time, just talk to me. I-I know I’m younger and inexperienced b-but I know what I want and that's you–” 

That's when he finally stops you, one big palm cupping your cheek. He tilts your head up, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone before he's pressing a smooch to your lips. You both seem to relax against the embrace, and when he feels a salty tear hit his thumb he swipes it away, lips parting from your just enough so he can murmur against them. 

“I know, lil love. I know.” When your lower lip trembles a bit a smile breaks out on his lips. One that makes the corner of his lips twitch, little wrinkles showing up around his eyes. His hands cup your neck so gently, thumbs pressing up against the underside of your jaw. He murmurs again, this time his words slurred along with your breathy, soft whimper. “I want you too…” 

This time the kiss is desperate, needy. Your fingers turn white at the knuckles when you grip at his shirt, lips moulding against his own. Draken’s tongue is impatient, slithering into your open mouth and reexploring the warm cavern that is your mouth. He huffs when your chest presses flush to him, and with ease his big hands cup your thighs, scooping you into his embrace. Your legs cling to his waist without a thought, the giddy giggle bubbling from your lips and against his own making a bit of blush rise on his cheeks. 

Oh, how he missed that sweet, sweet sound. 

Draken tries not to trip over himself as he carries you off to his bedroom, his back hitting up against the door at the same time your teeth playfully tug at his bottom lip. He drops you down and the bounce of your body has both of you a little too excited, Draken’s shirt easily coming off as he tugs it up over his head. 

“Lemme show you how badly I want you, baby.” His voice has already gotten deeper, and as his big hand comes to cup the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss he’s a bit surprised when both your palms press against his chest, pushing him away an inch.

Surprised and panicked. Was he moving too fast, did you think he was just using you in your vulnerable moment? Had he really fucked up so soon again– 

His breath left him in a huff when his back hit the mattress, your body rolling over him. He blinked a few times as you straddled him, palms pressed against his chest and your face heated. He could tell that a flush was working its way up to your cheeks when you looked down at him, your body slowly scooting down from his waist to his hips. 

“No, let me s-show you.” Despite just how nervous you were, Draken could tell by the way you chewed on your lower lip, how your fingers trembled a little, undoing his belt and zipper, his cock still twitched with excitement underneath you an odd sense of pride flowing through him. 

You had come a long way, from the virgin he met all those months ago. He had just been the biggest idiot and here he was, pushing his hair from his face so he could watch how your pretty little hands handled his semi-hard cock with such care. How you looked at him first, batted your lashes when you leaned in and pressed the sweetest of kisses right to his tip. 

“Oh fuck—“ 

Yea, he was never letting you go again, ever. 

You took a deep breath through your nose before taking his tip between your lips, your eyes never leaving his dilated ones. He propped himself up on an elbow, free hand easing the hair away from your face. It was a sight that would be burned into his mind forever. Wide doe eyes, hand barely wrapped around his fat base, pretty lips suckling away at his tip. 

“You’re gonna be the fuckin death of me pretty girl.” Draken chuckles breathlessly, and the little glint in your eyes tells him you would have smiled had your lips not been preoccupied. He kept his hand gentle on the back of your head as you slowly took more of him, your tongue flattening out against his underside. His head tilted back in a groan at your steady pace, the warmth of your mouth making his skin prickle with pleasure. His fingers curled in your hair just a bit, enough to hold him back from jerking his hips into you, make you gag– 

He’d save it for another time. 

“Atta girl…” He murmured, chest rising and falling a little faster as you gained your rhythm. Your eyes peaked up at him again, before you got back into it, cheeks hollowing as you took as much of him into your mouth as possible. You reached about halfway, which Draken noticed made your brows furrow up. 

“S’okay, we’ve got plenty of time to make it fit, keep going lil love.” He encouraged, and you listened, head continuing to bob faster, sloppier. Draken could feel your drool dribbling down his shaft and onto his balls and it made him shiver. It didn’t help that your ass was up high, practically swaying like an excited little puppy just to be sucking him off. Swearing under his breath a moment as his balls suddenly felt all too tight, he pulled you off his cock, the pornographic pop of your lips making him grunt, you whine. The string of drool connecting your swollen lips to his cock was thick, and when it snapped onto your chin Draken could feel himself getting lightheaded. 

“W-Why did you–” He silenced your whining with another fierce kiss, and without hesitation you were manhandled back into his pillows, flat on your back. He has no problem working your soiled panties off your thighs, deciding to just tuck the extra material of your skirt into the waistband “Felt fucking awesome.” Your panties are tossed right over your shoulder, a cute yelp leaving you when he hauls both your thighs up, over his shoulders. “But I wanna cum in this pretty pussy.” 

From this position your pussy was split wide open for him, your clit poking out and throbbing from under the hood. He sighed, content, pausing his previous actions to lean in, pressing the softest of kisses right up against your clit. 

“My pretty pussy.” His soft touch is gone, replaced with his burning desire to claim you again. A few rubs of his cock against your slicken folds, along with your drool is enough to get his cock wet enough to slip in. His breathing hitches once his head makes it past the tight ring of your muscles, the squeeze vice-like just from the simple intrusion. 

“K-Ken–” 

“Shh, I know.” He coos, hunching over you. With your thighs on his shoulders, his shifting has you in a mating press, a position that all too knew and is making your head spin. Your tummy folds the closer he gets to you, the pad of his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your clit while the other intertwines with the hand you had gripping the sheets close to your head. “S’always gonna be a lil tight, isn’t it babygirl.” 

You’re already moaning in a wonton fashion, eyes struggling to stay open as he rocks his cock head in and out, his thumb working at your nub. When your pussy starts fluttering for him he works in a few more inches, needy sounds spilling into each other mouth due to his lips staying inches away from your own. “Gonna take it all f’me? Be my good girl?”  

You nod, and when you look at him again your eyes have that familiar glassy sheen he’s grown to love. He kisses you right under the eye before with one good push his cock is all the way inside. The sound you make is downright sinful, something between a cry and a mewl and it has Draken’s cock twitching within the tightness of your cunt. It makes his vision go a little stary, the growl he releases vibrating through his chest. 

“Good fucking girl.” The slap of his hips into your ass resounds throughout the room, squelching soon coming from between your bodies. In this position his cock nuzzles your sweet spot, seeming to reach down deep, into parts of you that you didn’t even realise existed, and it quickly has you falling apart, babbles freely spilling from your lips, tears wetting your hot cheeks. Draken is quick to kiss them away, his fingers tightening around yours as he puffs hot pants along your face. 

“D-Deep~!” You manage to squeak, and Draken has to crack a grin, his hips suddenly stopping their brutal pace just so he can roll them instead. That had you gasping, drool spilling from your hung lips as you look up at him with a gaze that's already beyond fucked out. “S’real deep baby, s’good though yea?” 

You nod, fresh tears on your lashes. “Only the best for my baby.” He utters, hips switching back and forth between rutting and grinding. He’s convinced you’ve already cum on his cock, the amount of slick bubbling around his shaft and the tightness of your walls are his hints, but he keeps going, needing to fill you up after so long. Despite your cries, he brings his hand back to your clit, his rubs becoming sloppy. He only releases your hand to cup the back of your neck instead, keeping your foreheads pressed together. 

“Eyes on me, lil love.” You do manage to open your teary eyes, meeting his dilated pupils. “Good, good girl.” His body starts to twitch, broad shoulders rippling and his thighs starting to tremble as his own release quickly builds in his gut. “I– fuck. Baby, I love you, pretty–” 

And despite just how dumbed out you were moments before, those words seem to bring some clarity to your eyes. Your fingers tangle into his sweaty hair, gripping it at the roots for your sanity. The pleasant little laugh you let out and breathe against his lips makes his heart jump against his ribcage. 

“I love y-you Ken, love you so much, Kenny–” 

His climax hits him hard, the full-body chill he experiences making goosebumps rise along his spine as he fills you up. The feeling of his warm, thick cum is enough to have you coming undone right along with him, the sensation being yet another new one when liquid seems to gush past your little hole. It makes Draken’s balls tighten up instantly, the warm splash of your arousal onto his fingers that still gently coax pleasure out of your clit. And he can’t help but grin, a boyish grin that quickly turns into a grunt. “Fuck, fuckin squirtin on me, how cute.” 

He doesn’t pull out, he can’t. He needs to be close to you, keep your limp body tucked carefully underneath him. You’re too far in to even notice the mess, your whines and whimpers dwindling down into soft breaths as he turns to his side, keeping you in his chest. His cock slowly softens in your walls, and even then, Draken’s keeps you glued to him as you both come down, tremors and pants still coming over both of you. 

“Sweetheart.” He murmurs, face nuzzling up against your temple. When he gets a whine in return he holds you closer, careful to ease your face away from his chest so he can cover your tear-streaked face in kisses. “You’re okay, my baby…” 

Draken is usually more responsible than this. Then to let you two doze off without a proper clean-up. But feeling your soft heartbeat against his, your fingers still lost in his hair, your lips pressed right up into the crook of his neck and puffing soft air, he just couldn't bring himself to let go. He didn’t want to let go now, or ever. Keeping you here, wrapped in his embrace, he was certain that you’d be there tomorrow morning too, with that beautiful smile he had fallen stupidly, hopelessly, in love with. 

Fuck it. He was taking on the little sister fucker title with pride. 

“Kenny, your hand is sweaty.” You murmur, trying to hold back your laughter when he shoots you a glare, pulling his hand away from you and dramatically rubbing it along his jeans. 

“Fine, just won’t hold your hand, brat” He grumbles, and that sets you over, wrapping your arms around him mid-walk to press small kisses along his collar bones. 

Draken hadn’t felt this nervous ever, in his entire life (this was a lie, he’s just dramatic as ever). The two of you were only steps away from your place, the same place you and Takemichi lived in together. Everyone was there, the entire found family, and you two were now official…

He was getting flashbacks of the group chat, his friend's ruthless behaviour, the way Takemichi hadn’t talked to him for one whole week, and the sweet satisfaction Baji got when he got one free punch to his jaw for Takemichi’s sake. 

“Maybe we can tell them next week, or over a call. Whattya think lil love,” Draken murmured, his face hiding in your hairline. Your sweet laughter sent that familiar warmth through his chest, and one good tug on his hand had him reluctantly walking back towards the house. “You’ll be fine.” You say with a smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “We’re gonna do it together.” 

When you hopped up onto the front step, Draken’s eyes trailed down to the sweet dangling sound that was the anklet looped around your ankle. The gold one, with his initials, right where it belonged. The sight had him calming a little, brows furrowed in the way they usually did when he became focused. “Right, together.” 

“Michi-nii!” You call out once the two of you enter the house, the sound of music and chatter already filling the front entrance. Draken holds your hand a little tighter as if he had been entering a place he’d never been before. 

“Living room!” Takemichi calls out, surrounded by founding members of toman, each huddled around the kotatsu table that was covered in snacks, beers, and cards. Oddly enough the chatter died down as Takemichi was dealing out for another round, a laugh leaving his lips. 

“You guys gonna take this round seriously–” It was Mikey’s elbow into his ribs that silenced him, a little puff escaping his lungs. He was about to complain when his eyes were brought to what everyone seemed to be staring at. 

And that was you, beaming smile and all, with your hand held tightly by Draken’s, who couldn't seem to make eye contact with anyone. 

“Hi Michi~ Hi everyone! What are ya–” 

“Finally.” Mitsuya was the first to mutter, leaning back further into his spot on the couch. “Chifuyu, you owe me 20 bucks, told you they’d come out today.” 

“No fair!” Chifuyu blurted out, grumbling when he reluctantly pulled bills from his pocket. Pah and Peh were the first to start laughing, clinking their beers together.” 

“Wait, you knew? How?” Mikey questioned Mitsuya, who triumphantly took the money from Chifuyu with a laugh of his own. Kazutora was even starting to crack up, hiding his smirk behind his beer. 

And despite all the commotion, Takemichi sat dumbfounded, eyes glued to yours and Draken’s intertwined hands. When he did finally speak, it only made the group that much rowdier. 

“Well, what the fuck is this–” 

“Time for another punch,” Baji said with that signature grin of his, basically hoping from his spot on the couch. 

“Wait wait!” You said, your pout only stirring the pot further. “No one is punching anyone! We’re–”

“We are dating,” Draken said, eyes a bit narrowed as he spoke. “We’re dating, Takemichi, I wanna date your sister, and I’m gonna.” 

There was another round of silence in the room, but it didn’t last, not when Pah mumbled under his breath. 

“Classic sister fucker–”

“Well, you could have at least asked first?!” Takemichi was dramatic as ever, tears swelling up in his eyes at the thought of his precious little sister being tarnished by the big, mean, scary man that was Draken. He let go of your hand then, being just as dramatic as Takemichi if not more so “I did ask, I just asked in front of everyone.” 

“But you’re already dating, have been a while no…?” Classic Mitsuya, stirring the pot and making everyone act up yet again. 

“Now why would you say that you ass–”

“C’mon Michi, I’ll punch him again for you, one good punch like last time–” Baji was punching at the air for emphasis. 

“Sister fucker behaviour,” Peh said with a shake of his head, only making Pah laugh harder. 

And amidst the bickering and nonsense that always seemed to break out between the boys, you took a seat next to Mikey, taking the Taiyaki he had to offer you with a little huff. He noticed the anklet, observant as ever as you rolled your eyes when Takemichi actually started crying, something about you losing your innocence. 

“He’ll treat you right.” You looked at Mikey, who spared you a small smile and a pat on the head. “Draken–”

“I know!” You responded happily, eyeing him as he held Baji back, the nerves he was feeling earlier long gone. You took a bite of the Taiyaki and giggled. 

“I can’t wait to be with him, forever!”

property of kenslilove, do not copy, repost, translate, or move onto any other platform!! 

[citruswriter]

Bayverse Turtles x Animalistic Reader

A/N - This will be broken up in four different parts. Each turtle will have a reader with animal traits that I feel like just kinda... matches them. Like "yes that adds up".

Listen with me! ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

Your eyes fluttered open as you groggily groaned. "What time is it?" You yawned to yourself, hand sleepily finding your alarm clock. 2:30AM is what it read and you rolled over, groaning loudly. You tried to lick your lips but realized that your mouth was incredibly dry. Pulling yourself out of bed, you stumbled to the kitchen for a drink. Grabbing a glass, you briefly glanced at the bowl on the island only to do a double take. April's keys were gone. Checking your phone as you drank, you didn't see a text from her telling you where she might have been. "Where the fuck is this bitch?" You mumbled, going to check Life360. Her location? In an abandoned sewer. Oh fuck. You immediately thought. Did she go out for a nighttime walk only to be abducted? Was she dead? Your mind was going a million miles a minute as you tugged on shoes, grabbed your bike, and lugged it down the stairs. You cycled as fast as you could. When you reached your destination, you looked around. You couldn't find her... Fuck is she IN the sewer? I swear to god, if she's still alive I'm chewing her out. You thought bitterly. Lifting the manhole, you shimmied down the latter, drawing the manhole back over you.

"Uh guys? Somebody's in the sewers". Donnie spoke up, interrupting Mikey from whatever tangent he had been talking to April about. Everybody sprang up to look at the cameras. "Shit". April cursed and Leo looked at her, "Friend of yours?" He questioned and the brunette rubbed her temples. "Yeah. They're my roommate. Fuck I must have forgotten to turn off my location." She groaned. "April?!" Your voice called and April sprang into action. "Hey roomie!" April said, sprinting out before you could see the turtles. You hugged her tightly. "Oh my god, thank goodness your alive. I saw your location in the abandoned sewer and I immediately thought the worst. Never do that to me again." You sighed. "Hey uh... You moving into the sewer or something? I know rent is crazy, but come on. The sewer?" You teased, pushing past the beaded curtain. The turtles held their breath as they sort of hid in a corner. You turned back around to April to grin. "Look um, you can't exactly be here". She muttered and your expression immediately dropped to a glare. "April I adore you but maybe next don't, oh I don't know, GO TO AN ABANDONED FUCKING SEWER IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?!" you yelled.

"Yeah I guess you're right. I should have told you, texted you that I was ok". She agreed guiltily, rubbing her arm. You sighed in frustration, muttering something about her going to be the death of you. "Look you really should leave". She said, tone more firm. "Absolutely not. You're going to explain yourself because ain't no way you're setting up some cool underground hideout and then just not tell me about it," you shot back. "You really think it's cool?" A voice said excitedly. Spinning around, a sight beheld you.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Reader is: A wolf

A/N - Idk why but I feel like a wolf-like partner would suit Leo. Loyal and on guard but also caring and fun loving.

Ears pinned back, you bared your fangs and growled at the creatures in front of you. "Thought I smelled reptiles," you growled, golden irises eyeing the creatures in front of you. "Is that supposed to be an insult?" The one with a blue headband questioned, tone cold and threatening as he rounded you. Lowering your stance, you made sure to keep him in your sights. "If the shoe fits," you said, ears still pinned back. "Woah, woah, woah!" April yelled, planting herself in front of you. "They're friends, (Y/N)! Ok?! Friends!" She said. Lifting your head, you sniffed the air. Her scent was quite strong in the lair. She had been here many times before. Relaxing you stood back up, ears perking back up as you wagged your tail softly. "Sorry. You know how I feel about strangers," you said sheepishly. "Yeah well, cool it. Because I don't need you and Leo fighting." She said, letting out a stressed sigh. "Leo?" You tilted your head, looking at the giant turtles. "Wait. Ok. Are these your old turtles? Like, from the lab?" You asked with a shocked laugh. Leo seemed to have relaxed and approached you, "That's correct. The mutagen that her father was working on ended up mutating us and Master Splinter," he confirmed.

He eyed your outfit, blue boxers with a grey tank top and loose lighter grey jacket. "You didn't get dressed before you left, did you?" He questioned and you immediately got embarrassed, looking down at your outfit. "Ah- no. I was kinda focusing too much on making sure that April wasn't dead or kidnapped," you replied, one of your ears drooping to match your embarrassed facial expression. Leo couldn't help himself, he touched one of your ears, scratching it lightly. You leaned into his touch, tail wagging happily. Quickly he withdrew his hand, "I apologize. I shouldn't have touched you without consent". He said, bowing softly and you laughed, a sound he thought sounded absolutely melodic. "Oh please. You're perfectly fine, just don't tug on anything. I joke that I'm April's dog since we can't afford one," you assured him and April laughed at your words, rolling her eyes before going to sit on the couch with Mikey. Leo shook his head and chuckled softly.

"You look good in blue by the way," he murmured and you went to hide your face in your jacket sleeves. "Shut up or I'm smacking you," you muttered back and he just laughed. "As if you could hurt me, blossom," he replied, going to sit down on the couch. You followed, sitting in his lap and swinging your legs over April. He looked at you curiously and you flicked your ears at him. "Blossom, hm?" You teased as he went to pet your ears once more. Now it was his turn to become flustered. "Shut up. It slipped out." You couldn't help but giggle.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Reader Is: A cat

A/N - I'm sorry but this is absolutely perfect for him and your about to see why.

You unleashed your claws, nails becoming pointed as you swung forward in a fight or flight reaction. A hand grabbed your wrist. "Kitten's got claws," a gruff voice spoke up, an edge of amusement to his tone. "Let me go," you growled, tail bristling. "And why should I? Hm kitten?" The tall turtle in red teased, smirking down at you. You hissed, ears finding a way to flatten themselves even more. "Raphael please let (Y/N) go. They will find a way to claw your eyes out." April mused, going to the kitchen to get a snack. Raph let you go and your pupils narrowed to slits. "Raphael?" You questioned. "Don't wear it out, kitten". He replied and you turned to April, pointing to her and then to the turtle and she could only shrug and nod. "Wait your dead serious? These things are the old turtles?" You scoffed in bewilderment. "That's right, kitten. Little April here found us in the rubble and set us and Master Splinter free in the sewer. Little did she know, the mutagen mutated us," he said, relaxing on the couch once more.

You stalked to stand in front of him, studying his body. "Like what you see, kitten?" He teased, smug smirk drawing up the corners of his lips. You growled and flattened your ears once more. "I know I'm enjoying my view," he said, nodding to your jammies. Red lace bra you didn't feel like battling off your body and black sweatpants. You felt your cheeks heat up and you crossed your arms, growl vibrating through your chest. "Gotta say, kitten. Red looks good on ya. Mind if I add some more?" He taunted. You tried to be pissed, really you did. But you couldn't help but absolutely lose it. Laughing at his flirtatious comments, fangs glinting in the low light of the sewer. "Aren't you cute? You that desperate?" You teased back, causing Raph to become flustered. "Get burned!" Mikey called from the kitchen, causing Raph to snap at him. "Relax, big red." You said with a roll of your eyes, plopping down on the couch beside him, tail brushing against his arm. He grabbed it and softly twisted it around his hand to pet it, causing you to purr. "Look at you, kitten's not as ferocious after some pets, huh?" He said, causing you to glare at him. "Do me a favor and shut your fucking mouth." You snapped, leaning your head back onto the couch and closing your eyes. You went to pull your tail away but he gently brought it back to keep petting it.

"How about you make me, babydoll?" He challenged and you cracked your eyes open to side eye him. "Maybe another day. Preferably one where I'm not dead tired". You replied, causing Raph to chuckle in understanding. And so the two of you just sat side by side. Him watching whatever show was on TV and you asleep beside him, tail curled around his arm and chest vibrating with a loud purr.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Donatello x Reader 🧡 (💚 if you squint)

Reader Is: A moth

A/N - This man is an absolute night owl so um, hello? Nocturnal bug? Perfect right? Also I feel like it would be funny for this giant hunk of a man to have a partner that could easily reach his level bc the bitch can fckn fly.

You let out a loud moth squeak and almost fainted at the sight in front of you. "Woah there!" April said, rushing forward to keep you from dropping. "Chill out, roomie". She said and you almost flipped, antenna twitching in annoyance. "Chill out? April they're GIANTS! They could easily squash me like the bug I am!" You said, voice high pitched from panic. "(Y/N)! Calm down! Besides, you know them". She said softly and you tilted your head in confusion, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. "Remember my old pets? The four turtles and the rat?" She questioned and you vaguely remembered the project her father had been working on. "Y-Yeah. Um, Project Renaissance right? They injected the animals with these serums. But then the entire facility went up in flames." You recalled. "Well thanks to the mutagen, and April setting us free from the rubble, the mutagen well... mutated us," a voice spoke up and you turned to the tallest of the four, a purple bandana under his glasses. "Donatello?" You questioned softly, squinting up at him. "Or just Donnie." He said with a grin.

"You good now?" April asked gently and you nodded. She nodded back and went off to play a video game with Mikey. "This is so cool..." You marveled, moth wings expanding so you could flutter up to his height. "D-Did you not get dressed before you left the house?" Donnie stuttered out and you looked down at the purple boy shorts and baggie grayscale gradient hoodie you wore. Cheeks heating up you hid your face. "Oh my gosh, no I didn't. I was kind of too focused on finding April." You confessed and you laughed in embarrassment. "Could be worse though. Usually I sleep in less." You added before fluttering over to the other side of his head. "This is all super fascinating. Who knew the mutagen would transform some pets," you said in wonder and Donnie chuckled. "You're quite the fascinating creature yourself," he confessed and you giggled, landing gently onto your feet. "Thank you. I'm not sure why I'm... like this. I've been this way for as long as I can remember," you confessed, brows furrowed in thought. "I'd love to study you. If you'd allow me," he said sheepishly, moving towards his desk. You followed him and looked at all the gadgets he had, staring at them all with child-like wonder. "How's your sight? Moths aren't exactly known for their 20-20 vision," he asked and you glared up at him. "Neither are you from the looks of it," you retorted, making him laugh, a sound that made your heart flutter like the wings on your back. "Fair enough."

He raised a hand above your antenna, "May I?" He questioned and you tilted your head towards him, giving him silent consent to touch them. He gently brushed his fingers along them, rubbing them between his fingers. You jerked your head back, biting your fingers. "Ok so bad idea. Maybe don't touch them," you said, turning your face to hide your flustered expression, chest slightly heaving. "So they're sensitive to stimuli". The turtle muttered under his breath, jotting down a quick note. "Can I touch your wings?" He asked and you fluttered your wings softly. "Maybe not today. I'm not used to my moth bits being touched and that alone was a bit overstimulating. I'm sorry," you apologized, gently brushing at your antenna as if to calm them. "Oh no don't apologize! Here, why don't I show you some trinkets I'm working on?" He reassured, quickly changing the subject.

You perked up, fluttering up to sit on his leg. He swallowed, not expecting the move but he quickly relaxed as he began to essentially infodump on you. You listened intentionally, moth appendages occasionally twitching or fluttering with fascination. He couldn't help but feel happy that somebody took an interest in his little gizmos. It was nice. He could get used to this.

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Reader Is: Avian (large white feathered wings and pointed elf like ears)

A/N - I love how Mikey called April angelcakes in the movie and we just RAN with it. So what better partner for Mikey than an actual real life "angel"?

Fluffing up your wings in a defensive measure, you backed away a few steps. "April what the FUCK?!" you said, tone bordering on a shriek. "Woah babes! Cool it! I swear we're super chill!" Said one of the turtles. He was the shortest with an orange bandana. You looked at the other turtles. Blue, red, purple, orange. "These guys kind of remind me of those pet turtles you had," you muttered to your roommate, and she gave an anxious laugh. "Well actually... they are my pets," she replied back and you let your wings soften, turning to look at her. "Come again?" You said, shocked. "Yeah dude! So like, after the building burned down, April took us and Master Splinter and saved us by sending us down the sewer. And then we grew up and became super cool ninjas!" Mikey said excitedly and you turned to him, ears drooping slightly as you relaxed.

"The mutagen that my father had injected in them ended up turning them into mutants," April said, answering your question before you even asked. "I'm way too tired for this..." You groaned out, rubbing your eyes. "That's ok, angelcakes. Why don't you sit on the couch? You can play Mario Kart with me!" Mikey said excitedly. You yawned and stretched, wings expanding to their full length. Mikey couldn't help but step forward and gently grab one of them.

"These are so cool..." Mikey murmured, rubbing the bone with his thumb, his other hand petting the fibers of your wings. You groaned and your wings twitched under his grasp. "Oof. That actually feels really good," you sighed out. "Hey, you know how to preen wings?" You questioned, half joking. "That's like, removing broken off feathers right?" He questioned and you eyed him. "And straightened out any feathers that might be tangled, yeah". You confirmed and Mikey got excited. "Yeah sure, I can give it a try!" Leo and April looked at each other before laughing softly at his antics. Mikey snagged a beanbag chair and plopped it up in front of the couch. "For you, my angel," he said with a dramatic bow and you couldn't help but laugh. Mikey looked over to his brothers with an excited expression. Oh boy. He's already head over heels.

"Nice outfit, by the way. I think orange looks very flattering on you, birdie," he teased and you stared down at the orange sports bra and light grey sweatpants you were wearing. "Pervert," you said with a playful smack to his arm. You sank into the beanbag chair, letting your wings drape over and expand slightly. Mikey sat on the couch and got to work. Surprisingly, he was very good at preening. Your ears would occasionally twitch or droop in relaxation. You would sigh against his touch when he got a particularly sore spot, humming in delight when he fixed it. A few minutes passed by but eventually Mikey gently rubbed the bones of your wings. "Alright I think I'm all done". He said proudly and you stood up, yawning and fluffing up your wings. "ugh that feels so much better. Thank you so much, Mikey," you said, crawling onto the couch and resting your head and arms on his lap, one wing extending down your body and the other dropping off the couch.

"O-Of course, angel," he stammered back, trying to hide his chirp as you got comfy and sleepily snuggled into him. "Sounds like somebody's happy," you teased, closing your eyes as you chuckled. "I have no idea what you're talking about," Mikey argued with a flustered expression, picking up his controller to resume the game he had previously been playing before you entered the lair. "It's ok. I do it too sometimes," you murmured. "That would be cute to hear," he said but you didn't reply. Glancing down, he saw you fast asleep. Looking over at his brothers he pointed at you, "They're so freakin beautiful," he whisper yelled and April couldn't help but giggle at him. How cute.

I feel like this is just more than a tiny bit cringy and I'm crying. Anyways, should I expand on it at all? You guys remember those like, boyfriend scenarios on Quotev and WattPad? Bet I could turn these kind of into one of those. But mini. Like confessing, going on a date, when you're in danger, maybe a smut. It would probably help me with my sharpening my writing skills. Idk if I write them well at all but I legit tried. Anyways hope you guys like this um...... goodbye.

[luckycharms1701]

AAAAAAAHHHHHHH i love them!!! look at all the little kitties!!!

Uh shabam the boys with kitties for @luckycharms1701 blurb (it took, SO much longer than I ever would've thought idk what happened I'm sorry 🧎)

All except Mikeys are a little rushed tbh(I wanted to draw Mikey bad(now I can get to tactical Mikey wips))

[leossmoonn]

cuffing season | mike schmidt

summary - your handcuffs come into perfect use

warnings / includes - reader is fem. sub mike, unprotected sex, porn with a loose plot. kind of edited so if there’s a mistake lmk.

————

18+ only below the cut

mike was the first one to bring up the handcuffs — unsurprisingly. at first you thought he might have wanted to use them on you, but no, he wanted to be restrained. it shocked you a little bit, but you knew his tough and angry exterior hid a soft, whiny, pathetic mike that was just waiting to get taken advantage of.

he slightly regretted his choices, though. not because he wasn’t enjoying this. oh, lord above knows he was, but he couldn’t touch you.

you had just got on top of him. the tip of his cock is resting against your pussy lips. you can feel his precrum leaking out, creating a slick paste against your skin. one of your hands is resting on his chest, holding you steady as your other hand is touching his favorite parts of your body.

his arms struggle against the cuffs. the chain clinks against his wall where his back rests. your eyes wander down his neck, where his adam’s apple is bobbing up and down. he flexes the muscles in his shoulders and arms as he tries to work against the confines of the cuffs.

his mouth is open, drool pooling at the corners of his lips. you slowly move your hips back and forth. your folds naturally start to part and mike whimpers as he begins to feel your warmth envelop him. he bucks his hips up in attempt to enter you, but you sit up on your knees now towering over him. your tits are in his face, so close to his mouth he could lean forward and put his lips on you.

“you have to be patient, mikey,” you hum. your hand trails up from his chest to his jawline and cup his cheek.

“i need you,” he whines. “need me?” your voice comes out more sinister than you expect, but you don’t think he minds. your lips open up in a chesire cat grin.

he groans in the back of his throat. he didn’t think you could get more sexy, but you’ve proven him wrong. you lean down, your lips now against his ear. the tip of your tongue licks the shell of his ear. he shivers and bucks his hips, wanting to feel your walls coat his cock. he’s so hard, he thinks his dick will numb up and fall off before he will get inside of you.

“how bad do you need me, honey?” you hum. you start to lower yourself on his cock again. this time his tip fully enters you. he lets out something between a choked cry and moan. his hands ball into fists behind his back. he wishes he could grab you and fuck you fast and hard.

“tell me, mike, how bad you need me,” you repeat. “you don’t want me to leave you here cuffed, do you?”

“no, no!” he outbursts. he doesn’t think you will. he can feel your racing heart on his shoulder. he feels how wet you are and your pussy pulsating around him. but he never knows with you, and that’s what makes sex with you all the more fun.

“then tell me,” you say, your voice deep and dark now. you face him, looking him straight in the eyes. “i need you so bad, baby. god, you’re driving my crazy,” he groans. “i want you to fuck me so bad.”

your heart flutters and you swear your pussy did too.

“i want to feel your pussy wrapped around me, drowning my cock in your cum. i want to see your tits bounce in my face and watch my dick disappear between your thighs. fuck, i…” his eyes are closed now, imagining all the things he’s saying. you can feel him throb inside of you. without warning, you sink down.

“oh, fuck,” he mumbles. he rests his head on his wall, opening his eyes and falling in love with the sight of you. your right hand is on the wall by his head holding you up. you bounce on his cock, the base of it becoming wet and sticky, creating a gushing noise each time you go down.

“this what you wanted, mikey?” you pant.

“yes, yes,” he nods. your walls clamp around him and he whimpers out your name, once again finding the handcuffs an inconvenience.

“you feel so good. you’re so perfect, ah,” he cries out, eyes screwing shut and jaw dropping to release a loud moan. “i-i need to touch you, baby. please,” he begs. “need to have my hands on you. get these things off of me.”

he’s getting restless now. he’s starting to squirm more than ever.

“i quite like seeing you like this,” you say. you grab his face, making him look into your eyes. “i love seeing you plead for me. you’re so cute when you’re squirming. so needy for me. makes me happy. you wanna keep me happy, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“yes, yes,” he nods. he’s basically frothing at the mouth. “i’ll do anything to make you happy.”

“you’re such a good boy, you know that?” you start to kiss his jawline, licking a feather light trail to his ear. you lick the outer shell again. you swear his cock shudders inside of you.

he whines your name, his breathing starting to become erratic. you let out a moan yourself as his cock brushes up against that spot inside of you he always hits.

“i-i’m gon’ come,” he warns you. your nails scrape against his wall as you feel the warmth in your tummy start to arise. your thighs tighten around his sides. “me, too,” you say.

his cum shoots out in a hot burst inside of you. you let out a small cry as you come, slowly down and stopping. you slump down against his chest. both of you lay there until your panting comes to a stop.

you lift off with a little sigh. your legs are slightly wobbly as you walk to the bathroom to get the key to your cuffs and a washcloth for yourself. you unlock his hands and he lets out a groan of relief.

you sit down on the bed and spread your thighs, beginning to clean yourself up, but mike stops you. “let me,” he says.

you smile at him and nod. he gets up and gets on the ground in front of you. on of his hands parts your legs and rests on your thigh while the other wipes himself off of your skin. after he’s done, he gets up and kisses your forehead. his hand happens to slide up to your waist, holding you gently. you didn’t realize how much you missed his touch until now.

[aestheticaltcow]

No Phone Policy 4.0

Originally, this was going to be the final part, but my word count got up to about 3k, and it was a lot to process. I also like odd prime numbers, so maybe one more part after this or two... maybe three, but that feels ambitious.

Previous Part Next Part

The Bear Masterlist

“Should we try to get him out of the house?” Syd whispered to Richie. He shook his head, “I don’t know what to do.” He felt defeated. Richie watched Mikey’s downward spiral. He tried to help him, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t watch the same thing happen to Carmy; he couldn’t lose Carmy, too.

“What the fuck should we do? I don’t know how he’s gonna react when she comes home with the baby.” Syd sighed as she anxiously chewed her lip. She’d seen how Carmy reacted to stress in the past, but she’d never seen him like this.

Carmy hadn’t slept since you’d kicked him out of the hospital room. He couldn’t remember what day of the week it was. He’d been meal-prepping all of your favorite dishes. He cleaned and sanitized every bottle, pacifier, and every part of your breast pump. He cleaned the entire house with a toothbrush and ensured the nursery was ready to go, and there was no dirty laundry. The house had never been this clean. He wasn’t eating and stunk of a cocktail of cooking oil, body odor, and bleach. Syd and Richie had been in your home for hours, but Carmy hadn’t acknowledged their existence. 

“Yo, Cousin.” Richie’s voice boomed through the empty kitchen. Carmy looked up at im from the floor; he’d been on his knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, muttering incoherent nonsense. “Take a fuckin’ shower, Carmen. You fuckin’ stink.” Richie leaned against the counter and watched Carmy throw his scrub pad on the floor by his feet before he stood up and stormed out of the kitchen. He shoved past Sydney before trudging upstairs.

“What the fuck was that?” Syd’s eyebrows knit together as she confronted Richie in the kitchen. He shrugged, “I told him the truth.” 

 ~

“Thanks for the ride, Natalie.” you grinned as she parked in the driveway. She nodded, “Come on, let’s get Wolf inside.” 

Natalie helped you out of the car and grabbed your bag while you unclipped Wolf’s car seat from its base. “Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N? You’re more than welcome to stay—” You cut Natalie off with a passive affirmation about you being fine. Something in you told you going home with Wolf was a mistake, but you couldn’t avoid Carmy forever, no matter how much you wanted to…

Syd’s eyes lit up when she saw a sleeping Wolf in her car seat. “Oh my god—she’s so beautiful!” she attempted to hush her excited squealing. You grinned, “Thanks, Syd. Listen, I want you guys to swoon over my baby all day, but ya know… the elephant in the room and all…” you half-heartedly joked, trying not to cry when the thought of Carmy was brought to the forefront of your mind. 

Reluctantly, Syd and Natalie left after a lot of convincing. Richie stood his ground as the women reluctantly left. “Richie, I’ll be okay.” you sighed as you unbuckled Wolf to pull her out of her car seat. He shook his head, “Look, Carmys scarin’ me. I just want to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” you nodded and held Wolf close to your chest as you slowly climbed the stairs, Richie hot on your trail.

~

Carmy was lying on the floor of the nursery. He closed his eyes and pushed a hand through his damp, messy curls. As footsteps approached the nursery, he perked up, turning his head to face the pale yellow door. “She’s eatin’ and shit, right?” he heard Richie’s voice echo through the hall. When Carmy heard your snicker, he rose to a sitting position. You came home. 

“I’ll ask Tiff if she has any of Eva’s baby stuff- that shits fuckin’ expensive.” Richie offered as the two of you found your way to the master bedroom so you could set Wolf down in her bassinet. “Thank you, Richie. Any idea where Carmen went?” you anxiously asked as you carefully laid Wolf down. “He fuckin’ stunk, so hopefully, the lizard showered.” Richie laughed before turning his attention from you down to Wolf. Even sleeping, he could tell she would be a carbon copy of you, “She has Carmy’s eyes.” you said when you noticed how Richie was staring at Wolf. He grinned, “You did it, kid… by yourself.” 

Before you could say anything else, you saw Carmy standing in the doorframe. You swallowed hard, suddenly nervous over the thought of actually talking to Carmy. The two of you looked at each other, and as much as you wanted to skin him for missing Wolf’s birth, he looked ill. As a tense silence fell over the room, Richie cleared his throat, catching both your and Carmy’s attention. “You know, I should probably head over to the restaurant. Let me know if you need anything, kid.” Richie said in your direction before turning his attention back to Wolf, “Bye, sweetie.” 

Carmy moved to allow Richie out of the room, “Don’t be stupid.” he whispered as he exited. Carmy rolled his eyes and stared at you, taking in your appearance. You looked tired, your hair was in a bun, and you wore an oversized t-shirt with a pair of equally oversized sweatpants and sandals. He immediately noticed your engagement ring and wedding band were missing from your finger. “Are we okay?” he asked immediately, feeling stupid as the words left his mouth. You scoffed, “We’re absolutely not okay, Carmen. Bond with your daughter. I’m gonna take a shower.”

You pushed past Carmy and headed to the impeccably organized linen closet. Carmy watched as you plucked one of the larger black towels from the bottom shelf and one of your special hair towels before stomping to the guest bathroom.

Carmy stepped into the master bedroom and heard Wolf’s soft half-awake gurgles coming from the bassinet. He looked over it and saw her wrapped up in a tie-dye swaddle- most likely a gift from your Dad. “Hi baby, I’m your Daddy.” he carefully reached down and picked Wolf up. She squirmed as he cradled the baby in his arms before settling a chubby cheek against his chest. “I’m never going to be able to forgive myself for missin’ your birth, princess. I’m always gonna be there now. I promise.” 

~

“Don’t touch me.” you snapped as you felt Carmy shift closer to you in bed that evening. “Y/N, it’s been a month-”

“Yeah, and I’m still pissed.” you cut him off with a huff making Wolf stir in her bassinet. “Go to sleep. It took forever to get Wolf down, and I don’t want to fight in front of her.” you pulled your blanket up to your chin as you scooted closer to the edge of the bed to get away from Carmy. 

“Why the fuck did you name our daughter Wolf?” Carmy scoffed as he sat up in bed, frustrated. You ignored his criticism, which just made him more frustrated, “Will you fuckin’ talk to me?!”

You sighed and sat up in bed. You glared in Carmy’s direction, “Carmen. We’re not fighting in front of the baby.”

“Then fuckin’ talk to me!” Carmy got out of bed. He began pacing around the bed, anxious energy radiating from him like a nuclear explosion. You huffed as you scooped Wolf up. You’d known Carmy long enough to know he was about to explode. You got out of bed and pushed past Carmy to exit the bedroom, “Where the fuck are you goin’?” he yelled after you.

You ignored his yells as you entered the nursery to set Wolf down in her crib. After turning on the white noise machine on her bookcase, you exited the nursery to find Carmy standing in the doorway of the master bedroom. “If we’re going to talk, you need to talk. You yell at me; I’m ending the conversation,” you said matter-of-factly as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

Carmy scoffed and brought his hand to scratch his nose, “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I missed the birth, okay? I can’t go back and change it, and I’m fuckin’ pissed off that you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ bitch about it. Okay! Accept my fuckin’ apology so we can go back to fuckin’ normal.”

You stared at him and took in his words, “You know what, Carm. I absolutely will NEVER accept your fuckin’ apology. You’ll never understand how scary it was to give birth alone. You’re a fucking failure as a father and husband. If I had the means, I woulda left your ass.” you spat at him. 

Carmy’s face contorted in anger, “That’s the meanest shit you’ve ever fuckin’ said to me. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he watched as you crossed the hallway to go back into the bedroom. You pushed past him, making him turn on his heel. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward him, making you gasp, “Don’t fuckin’ ignore me. I’m fuckin’ sick of this shit.” 

You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, only for him to tighten his grip. “Carmen. You’re hurting me.” you winced as you brought your other hand up to push against his chest. He grabbed your other wrist and pulled you closer to him. “You’re not fuckin’ leavin’ me, okay?” Carmy hissed as he stared down at you. “Carmen, you’re scaring me…” your voice cracked slightly. Carmy huffed and dropped your wrists, “Let’s go back to bed.” 

You watched Carmy walk to his side of the bed and slip under the covers. Cautiously, you went to your side and stiffly laid down. You flinched when you felt Carmy’s arms wrap around your waist. You swallowed softly and allowed him to pull you against his chest, “I love you. I’m not gonna miss anythin’ else, okay?” Carmy mumbled against your shoulder before softly kissing your exposed skin.