#christmas less traveled

[gacmediadaily]

We’ve got an early Christmas present for Candace Cameron Bure fans.

TVLine can exclusively reveal the title, premise and first photo from Bure’s annual Great American Family Christmas movie. Premiering in November as part of the network’s “Great American Christmas” slate, A Christmas Less Traveled stars Bure and Eric Johnson (Rookie Blue, Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin) and centers on a down-on-her-luck proprietor who embarks on a life-changing road trip. The official logline reads as follows:

The Dine and Dash Diner has a stack of mounting unpaid bills, forcing its owner, Desi (Bure), to sell her beloved, mint condition, cherry red 1964 Ford F-100, a gift from her deceased father. As Desi visits the vintage truck one last time, she discovers a recorded message from her dad on an old audio cassette. Desi’s dad’s voice sends her and ‘Old Red’ out to retrace her family’s most memorable moments one last time. Just as the journey begins, Desi meets Greyson (Johnson) who offers her a generous payment in exchange for a ride to ‘close the most important deal’ of his life. Little do Desi and Greyson realize the less traveled road will reveal more about each of them than they could have ever known.

Bure serves as an executive producer on A Christmas Less Traveled — a Syrup Studios production in association with Bure’s CandyRock Entertainment.

“A Christmas Less Traveled gently challenges us to truly embrace every moment we share with our families, friends and loved ones,” Bure says in an exclusive statement to TVLine. “It reminds us that forgiving ourselves and others is the pathway to set ourselves free.”

Adds Great American Media president/CEO Bill Abbott: “Filmmakers have been inspired by road trips for as long as movies have been made. In A Christmas Less Traveled, viewers will go on a scenic journey with our characters to celebrate Christmas in communities and with acquaintances, treasuring every heartfelt moment of discovery or remembrance in a vintage vehicle that seems to magically know all the right places to stop.”

Bure previously executive-produced and starred in a pair of Great American Family Christmas movies: 2022’s A Christmas… Present and 2023’s My Christmas Hero. She also served as an EP on 2022’s Christmas on Candy Cane Lane (starring Full House’s Andrea Barber) and 2023’s A Christmas for the Ages (starring Natasha Bure).

Before A Christmas Less Traveled debuts in November, Bure will return to the network to headline another movie: The Ainsley McGregor Mysteries: A Case for the Winemaker, which is slated to premiere in September.

[pollyannawog]

Commission batch!

Chrysanthemum ✨Pride drip edition✨: @christhetraveler

Wintery Reindeer: @spacerace-secondplace

Commission me here!

[variousqueerthings]

being one of several siblings is constantly being in lowgrade competition about not being the one who's doing the worst in life currently. I'd say beginning of the year I was pretty solidly in second place, and we're slipping down that rung, but that's because my employment is so dependent on the stars and the gods and my mental health aligning at the exact right time. I think I provide a much-needed whimsical insecurity to our prospects as a family, one moment I'm the only one of the kids with a degree, the next I can't access most of my funds due to moving to another country and brexit, and then, wow, a whole grant for six months, and now, guess what... solidly burnt out for another six. what will I think of next? tune in next week, it may be an experimental bottle episode just consisting of me reviewing doctor who episodes in an oversized hoodie, it may be an offer to direct a documentary short. life.

[nerdie-faerie]

Should I be packing for my last minute travel plans back home for break in 2 days? Yes. Am I instead wasting time redyeing my hair so my mum won't say shit about it? Also yes.

[frontporchjunkie]

The Christmas movies to Great American pure flix to stream this month

[silverselfshippingchaos]

wow i have not been doing anything but playing o.ctopath traveler 2

[l33n1s]

No but Shen Twins AU where Shen Yuan is technically a member of Cang Qiong Mt sect but he's almost never there cause he's too busy traveling and studying/documenting all of the cool plants and animals.

But when he Does spend time at the sect it's Qing Jing Peak's emotional equivalent to Christmas, cause Shen Jiu is actually in a good mood (as good as his moods get at least) and Shen Yuan has picked up a habit of bringing sweets for the disciples. He just shows up and suddenly the bamboo house doesn't seem so empty, Shen Jiu actually seems comfortable for once, and the whole peak's atmosphere seems to shift.

And, it's always a very jaring experience for new disciples the first time they meet Shen Yuan. Cause there's this guy who looks exactly like their teacher but is so much less severe. His posture is a little more relaxed, he Actually smiles at them every once in a while, he doesn't get annoyed when they ask about his adventures and is instead very willing to share his stories (if he dresses them up a little who's to blame him). For many of them it stuns them to see Anyone be so casual with their teacher and be left alive after; to see him argue with someone in a way that is actually harmless rather than scathing.

It doesn't help though that noone actually knows When Shen Yuan will ever show up or how long he'll actually stay. It definitely varies, sometimes he'll just be passing through the area on his way to some other cool place, sometimes he stays for a few months in order to teach a couple classes on useful plants and dangerous animals.

Often during his visits, he visits the other peaks too. He talks with Mu Qingfang about about medicinal plants while he's treated for any injuries he has (it's not his fault he's accident prone, and if he fell of that cliff while trying to follow a very cool bird-thing no one needs to know). He has tea with Yue Qingyuan (who met him for the first time and said "our younger brother"); Shen Jiu is decidedly not happy about this but "oh well he'll live"

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! receiving) - ball-massaging - face + throat-fucking - praise - pet names (baby, cutie, mama, sweet thing) - implied that reader has given oral prior - first-time Toji finding enjoyment in receiving oral - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of spit.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: "Toji has never really enjoyed oral. At least, not until Y/n went down on them for the first time…"

I was playing with NSFW prompts for the first time, and this was literally the first one it gave me…genius. (¬‿¬) guess kinda a switch-up from this oldie i did~ hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's, accept this as my welcome back present, hehe~ also tysm for 4.6k, hello????

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

“…Hey, Toji?” 

“Yeah, baby?”

“…Can I…..give you a blowjob?”

Up until this point, Toji was never one to be given oral from anyone. 

Giving oral isn’t a problem. But receiving it from someone else? That’s another thing. Call it his personal preference or years of sexual experience, but the older man never actually found pleasure in it. It could be from the many inexperienced minxs he’s had to get his dick wet, whose frequent teeth and bites sabotaged the mood for him. Or probably from the others who just really didn’t appear to know what they were doing — again, ruining the mood. Or the fact that most of the time, as mentioned, he finds himself satisfying his partner at the time more than himself. 

Not that he minds at all; no, no. He finds great satisfaction in going in between someone’s legs and getting them turned on from his work. But when it comes to the thought of having his dick sucked, it’s a hard pass. Respectfully. 

Which brings us to the present: him on the couch with an arm wrapped behind your shoulders, bringing you close to him as you watch television comfortably. The ceiling lights dimmed to a warm low glow, your head draped on his shoulder as his hand rubs comforting circles on yours, and the silence only filled with the voices coming from the TV isn’t awkward in the presence of you two. Why would it be? He’s with you, his little sweet thing. And that’s all he wants right now.

So, after all the fidgeting with your thumbs and the occasion glances at him (which he noticed, of course), it was apparent that you’d soon ask him something out of the blue. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that question. 

“Pfft, that’s random,” he scoffs at the sudden question, and more subtle chuckles resort from the bashful turn of your head. God, you were so cute. “Why ask, sweet thing?”

“I was…just wondering, you know?” Your eyes travel down to your twiddling thumbs, avoiding Toji’s deep, observant emerald gaze. “We’ve been together for this long, and not once have I ever given you a blowjob. And I know, you always say you’re fine with it, but like…I really wanna give you one.”

And that’s when you muster up some confidence to peer up at him meekly, and that’s what seals the deal for Toji. Who is he to deny such puppy dog eyes from his baby? 

“Okay then,” he chortles with a smirk, the scar on his right side rooted up. It’s just a blowjob. If not for me, then for them. “Do what you do, cutie.” Little did he know that this would blow his expectations far out.

It started out nice and slow. Toji indulged in your kisses as you snuck your hand into the hem of his drawstring pants, sucking on his tongue while fingers crept inside his boxer briefs to give his cock a rub. He groans into your mouth, liking how you’re setting the mood until you take your lips away from his and slide off the couch to be between his legs. Removing his underwear to the floor, you examine his half-soft dick before using your hands to wrap around the base, massaging around it while you take the tip in your mouth. Toji sighs in bliss at the feeling of your soft licks and rolls of your tongue, shifting around to get more comfortable on the couch.

His erection becomes less and less flaccid, hardening around your mouth. This is where you decide to take in more of his length, hallowing your cheeks as you push your puffy lips down halfway down his erection. By the time you reach this base, your throat is so full of Toji’s girth that you use his sweatpants as reins for your hands as you try to give yourself a few seconds to adjust to the limb occupying your throat. You continue to suck on his cock, bobbing up and down with your saliva coating him, your tongue moving around on the underside of his dick every time you suck up to the tippy top. 

The sucks and strokes to his length become a little faster, and it’s here that Toji can’t concentrate on the television. Subtle twitches of his leg result from the hummed moan you express while taking him to the hilt. The vibrations that resonate along the inner walls of your throat are felt. It feels so good. And the tongue of yours? Fuck. His brows trench down when your tongue licks from the bottom of his ridge to the frenulum, giving his cockhead an onslaught of rough licks and kisses that has Toji exhale through his nose. “Hmmnn, fuck…Y/n, baby, y’re so good at this…Uhghh!”

You release his tip with a soft ‘plop’ with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his spit-covered cock. “Ahahhn, really?” Oh, fucking shit, don’t look at him like that. Your hooded eyes peering up at him with a soft smile while your hands maintain a stroking rhythm that has Toji squirm around your grasp. And then you surprise him with a grasp of his ballsack, oh you’re a devilish cutie. “That makes me happy to know,” you give him a giggle when Toji involuntarily bucks to your hands; the veiny limb contrasting with your pretty fingers is such a sight to see. The pulsating commotion between your legs progresses more by the second.

More dangerous licks paired with the massage to his balls as Toji huff is bliss. “Ahhh, sh–shit…Ya like how my dick tastes, mama?”

Taking his cock back into your mouth with alluringly half-lidded eyes is the answer you give him, your lips covering your teeth as your jaw relaxes to welcome his neither limb back inside your warm oral cavity. The suction of your hallow cheeks became lethal with the increased speed, your tongue now swirling around him and creating such deviant noises that only Toji focuses on despite the television vices failing to drown them out. 

Holy shit, Toji wasn’t expecting this kind of treatment at all. This was downright out of the water from all the other oral ordeals he’s had in his life. How the fuck were you so good at this!? Cupping his balls while slurping his dick was such a dangerous combo; Toji doesn’t know how long he’ll contain the urge to stand and fuck your face here and now. Goddamn, the faster you bob your lips on him, the shiver down his spine is hard to ignore. His hips jerking to your mouth; he wants to fuck your face so bad. And just looking at your ass sway while you suck on him, he knows you’re enjoying this as well. 

It reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore — he wants to go faster and harder. So Toji grabs your head as he stands up and dials the tempo to a harsher motion, propelling your lips down to his pelvis. And you’re quick not to panic, being sure to breathe when Toji smacks his testicles to your chin and ruts into your face and throat with no mercy. Toji moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping around his length, hissing at your muffled wails as he hits the back of your throat. “Fsshhh—Hnngh!! Fuckin’ shit, just like that, mama, just like that…Ohhggh!”

You can feel the veins on his girth pulsate, indicating that his release is soon coming. The thrusts to your face get erratically faster, so you’re sure to grab onto his sweatpants to make sure you don’t lose balance as he spills his load down your throat. Ending it with a few rough hits to your lips, Toji groans with gritted teeth, shaky, strong legs pumping his semen for you to drink, which you merrily take with muzzled squeals on his shaft. The both of you experience the last moment of this euphoric high until Toji’s body calms down, heavy breaths going slower with every expel. He gives you a few moments to suck him off a little more before removing himself from you, gradually pulling his length, quivering with the aftershocks at the dismissal of your warm walls around him. And he jolts when you tease him with one last lick to the sensitive tip. 

“Hahhh, damn, cutie,” Toji takes a seat back on the couch, eyeing you down with a weary smirk and furrowed brows. “Since when did ya like to get down and dirty?”

You sheepishly smile back and avert your eyes down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m glad you liked it, Toji.” 

“Sure as hell did,” he bends down to grab your chin and bring you in for a kiss. The squeaks you let out when he bites your lips are too adorable and hot to his ears. “Want me to eat you out, sweet thing?”

“Really?” God, you were too cute — beaming at him like that with such a lovely smile. 

“Sure thing. Besides, I saw the way you were movin' that ass while suckin’ me off. So, I got you,” Toji takes off his sweatpants, moving his legs to be on the couch entirely. His dick is still standing erect, and he gives you a suggestive grin before tapping his chest, a sign for you to get ready and sit on him. “Only if ya can do that shit on me again.” The request takes you aback for a minute, but you chuckle and stand up. You remove your bottoms and underwear, and Toji notices the wet spot on the material. 

Again, Toji is never one to be given oral. But if he’s going to be treated like this, you might be able to change his mind.

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[checkeredflagggs]

Adore, Amour, Inamorato

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!poet!reader

summary: charles’ new girlfriend receives a lot of hate for her seemingly joblessness

a/n: inamorato translates to “a man with whom you are in love or have an intimate relationship”

a/n 2: do you know how hard it is to try to be a poet when you don’t have a poetry bone in your body? Hard

a/n 3: I don’t like timelines so I don’t use them

a/n 4: if the name of the poem or author isn’t included in the photo, I have them listed out at the bottom of the post in order

myheartispoetry

liked by charles_leclerc, user, user, and 788,445 others

myheartispoetry: “my soul has traveled long and far to find yours” “and when you came into my life, the eternity of love begun.”

A new love has entered my life and like the rain falling from the clouds, I am washed anew. A new love, a new me, a new look for me and my page

Many thanks for all those that stuck around through the dark storms but the sun has broken through and shines again.

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user1: mother is mothering again!

user2: oh I can’t wait for more love poems again 💙💙💙

user1: i knnnnnoooooowwwww. It’s been too long since she’s been happy

user3: good riddance to that cheating bastard

user4: right! She deserves all the happiness ever

user3: definitely! How could someone hurt someone so nice and kind?

user4: brain deficiency?

user3: it could be

user5: Charles? What are you doing here?

user6: who?

user5: Charles Leclerc! He’s a race driver for Ferrari!

user6: what’s a vroom vroom guy doing in mother’s likes?

user7: that’s a very good question

twitter

user8: another one? so fast?

user9: that was my question too

user10: ok but my man is lookin’ goooodd 🥵

user11: 🥵🤤

user12: Charles it’s getting hard to defend you…

user13: he literally posted about his breakup just 2 weeks ago

user14: uhhh why are we blaming only Charles here? I mean we know he’s fast to move on but…

user12: so true girl - it definitely takes two to tango

user15: calling it now! Golddigger!!!

user16: right??? Like god…he’s been single less than a month and someone is already trying to take advantage of him

user17: we definitely need the Twitter detectives to find out who she is…

user18: working on it!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, yourbff, and 632,469 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: “People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.”

Thank you darling for the trip ❤️ I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you

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yourbff: enjoy it dear, you’ve definitely earned it

user16: by being a whore??

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user17: as a gold digger?

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yourusername: I will sweetie!

yourfriend: have fun! and send lots of photos!

user16: or don’t! We don’t want to see your face!

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yourusername: I will! And coffee date when I get back?

yourfriend: absolutely!

user18: found her!

user19: you didn’t really have to try…she straight up tagged him…

user18: still found her!

charles_leclerc: oh ma chérie … je n'ai jamais été aussi heureux que quand tu es à mes côtés

user20: she’s a slut — run while you still can!!

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user21: she’s a gold digger

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user22: whore!

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user23: gold digger!!

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user24: what about his family??? You’re just taking him away from them during Christmas time!!!

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user25: what a bitch, taking him away from his family

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charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pieregasly, maxverstappen1, and 2,590,278 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: having the absolute best time with you ma chérie — thank you for coming with me

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user26: charles charles charles…what are you doing with her…

user27: this!!! Like he ruins his entire aesthetic for…her 🤢

yourusername: oh my love there is nowhere else I’d rather be than with you, where ever that ends up being

user28: 🤢

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user29: whore!

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user30: go away! Leave him alone!

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yourbff: cheesy!

yourusername: oh you know it!

charles_leclerc: home is where you are ❤️

yourusername: oh Charlie…🥰

iamrebeccad: it was nice to see you yourusername again!

yourusername: oh absolutely! double date when we get back?

iamrebeccad: time and place babe!

user31: not you too Rebecca!

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maxverstappen1: so how many times did you face plant?

charles_leclerc: just the once!

maxverstappen1: really? 🤨

yourusername: like 10 times in an hour

maxverstappen1: that seems more like it

user32: what a bitch, making fun of charles like that

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charles_leclerc: ma chérie…

yourusername: sorry 🤷‍♀️

carlossainz55: that does seem like charles

charles_leclerc: Carlos…

myheartispoetry

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, user, and 872,399 others

myheartispoetry:

“As the dusk takes leave of the weary day,

A new dawn of hope and dreams make its way.

Yesterday's a closed chapter of our life,

Do not rewind your thoughts, it will bring strife.”

A new dawn is rising for me and with it, a night is beginning to end. My heartbreak book Will You Stay? will only be available for the next 2 weeks before it’s pulled from production forevermore.

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user33: the way I ran to your website to order this…

user34: same! Like i know I’ve never been cheated on and lied to by a guy but you never know

user35: noooooooooo 😭😭😭

user36: what??

user35: I don’t get paid till after the book is gone…

user36: well…you get to experience heartbreak in real time

user35: 😡😡💔💔

myheartispoetry: dm me lovie

user35: omg!!

user36: shut up!!

charles_leclerc: ordered!

maxverstappen1: same

user37: Ariana what are you doing here??

user38: what in the heck? Why are the vroom vroom guys doing in mother’s comments?

user39: …apparently reading her book?

maxverstappen1: it’s gonna be our book clubs book of the month

user38: WHAT DO YOU MEAN???? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??

user39: YOU GUYS CAN READ??

user40: why you gotta do them dirty like that…

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff, maxverstappen1, and 1,934,234 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: Happy Christmas my love ❤️ thank you for including me in your family’s celebration

comments have been restricted

yourbff: you look stunning girlie 😍

yourusername: thank yoooouuu

charles_leclerc: chérie it was a pleasure to spend the holidays with you

yourusername: ❤️🥰❤️

charles_leclerc: also maman wanted to remind you to meet her for lunch

yourusername: of course! She promised all the embarrassing stories about young charles!

charles_leclerc: chérie…

yourusername: 😘💋❤️

iamrebeccad: gorgeous girl!

yourusername: Let’s drop the men

iamrebeccad: of course! 🏃‍♀️💨

charles_leclerc: wait wait wait

carlossainz55: what?

myheartispoetry

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, pieregasly, and 1,445,934 others

myheartispoetry: as winter settles around us, the days are short and grey and the nights are long and lonely…I could never find for myself the sun or the warmth to flourish during these dark months. However with you my love, I turn to the side to bask in the sun and seek your embrace to melt the frost on my soul

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user41: hey guys! I’m sleeping on the highway tonight

user42: sleepover!

user43: oh wow this post called me single and lonely in like a dozen different ways

user44: I know how you feel babe

user45: I can’t even get him to text me back and mother is writing literal poetry for the way he worships her…

user43: 😭😭

user44: I don’t know who I’m more jealous of…her or him

user45: both. Both is good

user46: oh my god yes

user47: I’m most jealous of him…to be loved by a poet

charles_leclerc: such gorgeous words

maxverstappen1: you could never

charles_leclerc: 👎🏻

user48: I’m having a thought.

user49:…are you gonna share?

user50: was it hard for you? Having one for the first time

user48: well I had a thought out paragraph with proof and time stamps but I’m not gonna share anymore thanks to user50

user51: she’s collecting f1 drivers like they’re pokemon

user52: no but you’re right. There’s been a new one in each of her newest posts

user51: dots are being drawn and connected

user48: I’m gonna dm you cause I think I know where you’re going

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, pieregasly, and 4,231,445 others

charles_leclerc: new music out now! 👍🏻

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user53: oh…

user54: he’s is LOVE love

user55: to a whore

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oscarpiastri: good stuff dad 👍🏻

charles_leclerc: thanks son 😊

user56: why are they so bland…

user57: that’s mini kimi for ya

yourusername: oh my love…

charles_leclerc: I know it doesn’t measure up to everything you’ve done but I wanted to give you a little insight to what I feel when I’m around you

yourusername: 🥰🥹❤️

user58: what a bitch can’t even be grateful for what she’s got

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maxverstappen1: I thought I wouldn’t have to deal with all of…this until the season started. Why is it on my screen

charles_leclerc: idk you tell me

user59: guys they still don’t follow each other

user60: are you telling me this drama king intentionally searched up his rivals post to make fun of him

charles_leclerc: yes he did

maxverstappen1: shut up

user61: ok but these like slap?

user62: thank god someone pointed them out. They’ve been on repeat and thank god and thank yourusername that this man is finally happy

user61: I KNOW. I don’t know how many sad tracks I had left in me…

user63: babe he still drives for Ferrari. You’re gonna have an entire season of sad tracks to choose from

user61: blocked. Reported. Why should you do this???

user62: 😂😂😂

user64: loml?? Love of my life?? And HAPPY?? Are you kidding me right now?

user65: he’s so in love with her…did you see his latest stream?

user66: when she poked her head in to let him know dinner was ready? And his face fucking lit up??

user64: 😭😭 we’ve lost him lads

user66: I’m just glad he’s happy

user65: same

Private Messages

translations: I adore and love you with my whole heart; I love you with everything I am

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,597,455 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: Bahrain you were so good to my man tonight! ❤️❤️❤️ congrats Charlie💋💋

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charles_leclerc: you’re gonna have to come to every race now ma chérie. You’re clearly my good luck charm

yourusername: oh no…what an awful problem 😂😊

maxverstappen1: congrats man! That top step was well deserved

charles_leclerc: thanks max

oscarpiastri: good race dad 👍🏻

charles_leclerc: thanks son 😊

yourbff: I’m gonna need your mascara cause that shit did not run your gorgeous girl

yourusername: the real mvp tonight

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, user, and 7,823,912 others

tagged: scuderiaferrari, yourusername, carlossainz55

charles_leclerc: that’s how we do it!! A great 1-2 start to the season!! Forza Ferrari Sempre! And thank you to my love for being such an amazing good luck charm! ❤️

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carlossainz55: great race brother! Forza Ferrari Sempre!

user67: congrats!! Forza Ferrari Sempre!

user67: you did great too Carlos!!

yourusername: “And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name” congrats Charlie

charles_leclerc: well I did have to impress you

yourusername: you absolutely did!!! But tbh it was only upwards you could go after that ski trip

charles_leclerc: chérie…

yourusername: 🥰❤️

user68: Forza Ferrari Sempre❤️❤️❤️

user69: Forza Ferrari Sempre!!!

user70: charles come on. You could definitely race better if you didn’t have a slut weighing you down

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user71: ok but did you see they way he RAN to her when he saw her…

user72: I’m calling it! They’re my new IT couple. LOVE THEM

user73: she started crying like 5 laps in and girl I feel ya

user74: most relatable wag I feel

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, sebastionvettel, maxverstappen1, and 4,590,278 others

tagged: yourusername, myheartispoetry

charles_leclerc: I’ve been silent on this for far too long and will not hold my tongue anymore. I don’t know why people feel like that have the right to criticize my choices for who I date or where or with whom I spend my time with but I want you to know that my REAL fans will recognize that yourusername (or myheartispoetry for her professional handle) is by far one of the best things that have ever happened to me.

I don’t necessarily want to bite the hands that feed us but I don’t know why people feel like they are entitled to know everything about me or my girlfriend. yourusername is a private person and does not owe you anything and it is with her permission that I’m telling you that she is the author behind the myheartispoetry page and books — she is not the gold digging whore that so many of you made her out to be.

Ma chérie I am so sorry I waited for so long to address this issue and that I allowed you to face this alone. I love you. I love you. I love you. I could spend the rest of my life trying to find the words to describe the depth of love I have for you but I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to…thankfully I’m dating you and you are by far one of the best poets I’ve ever read so I’m sure you’ll be able to find those words for me

Going forwards, any harassment aimed towards yourusername will be handled with.

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Poems and quotes in order

Still, Kennedy Ryan

Ben Maxfield

Alexandra Vasiliu

Anton Chekhov

Tshering Wangchuk

Cornelia Street, Taylor Swift

[gacmediadaily]

[iznsfw]

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung. 

It’s all because of her. 

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 

hey, it reads, you need to—

-

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 

Deception can’t lead you away. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart. 

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.” 

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You. 

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her. 

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

-

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

[etherealising]

one | christmas (baby please come home)

pairing(s): carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | fem!reader x original male character | the bear x fem!reader

synopsis: you reunite with carmy at the berzatto family christmas, five years after your falling out.

warning(s): angst | fluff | pining | semi-unrequited love | minimally edited

wc: 7.8k

READER HAS A NICKNAME BUT OTHERWISE AMBIGUOUS

A quiet Christmas playlist drifted through the confines of the house as three friends sat gathered around the kitchen table spending much-needed time together catching up while building gingerbread houses, the various glasses of wine shared between the three of them lowering their inhibitions. 

“Baby! You’re not even looking at the camera.” Natalie’s slurred words caused a fit of giggles to spill out of you as you held up your dilapidated gingerbread house whatever artistic skills you possessed washed away with all the wine swishing through your bloodstream. 

You positioned yourself once more smiling at Nat’s phone as you held the slowly crumbling house, Pete instinctively leaned over to join you for the photo only for his reindeer antler headband to poke you in the eye. Both of you fell into a fit of hysterics as Nat giggled behind her phone most likely snapping blurry photos. 

None of you could be sure how you’d gotten to the point of being wine-drunk on Christmas Eve. The celebrations began when Nat and Pete picked you up from the airport earlier that morning, the three of you deciding on a quiet night in with a home-cooked meal, followed by a night of Christmas festivities courtesy of Pete which you could never turn down especially when seeing how excited he always got. You remembered Natalie listing off her worries for tomorrow’s dinner as she poured the three of you wine, that first glass somehow turned into two empty wine bottles in no time as the three of you enjoyed each other’s company. 

“Wait, wait we’ve got to get a picture in our matching pjs!” Pete was by far the most sober of the three of you and that was probably how he won the game of rock, paper, scissors that forced you into wearing the set of Christmas pajamas he bought you that were a replica of the ones he and Nat currently had on.

You shook your head immediately, not wanting any more photo evidence of this night, especially knowing Nat was probably sending these pictures to Mikey who would most definitely never let you live down matching with the married couple. “I think we have more than enough pictures.” The words felt heavy as they rolled around on your tongue and you couldn't help but giggle at how slow you felt like you were speaking.

Nat moved around the table to your side wrapping her arms around your neck as she leaned her chin against your shoulder and her cheek pressed into yours. “Pretty please Baby, we only get to do fun things like this a couple times a year when you visit.” She moved her face away to give what you assumed were supposed to be puppy dog eyes but was really just her concentrating extremely hard. “If you love me you’ll do it.” 

You rolled your eyes pretending to be put out by the married couple, not wanting them to know just how much fun you were actually having. While you were thankful for your success and the career you built up for yourself, that meant that you spent the majority of your time traveling and working, and while it was nice to see the world, sometimes you wished you could take more than a quick beat for visits like these. You hadn’t visited Chicago as much as you would’ve liked since moving to the West Coast, which meant you saw less and less of the family that made you one of their own all those years ago. You watched as Nat and Pete struggled to set up the phone in the living room for the group photo, giggling at how they seemed to feed off of each other as though they shared a single brain cell between the two of them.

Nat waved you over once they got the phone set up, “Oh! We should do like one of those awkward photo shoots.” 

You groaned, shaking your head back and forth while Pete stood next to you aggressively nodding his head in approval, the two of them were so goofy together you’re unsure why you ever thought you’d have an actual choice in how this unprofessional impromptu photo shoot was going to go. While you may’ve been inebriated that didn’t mean you were on board with every decision the two were making, but you also loved them too much to tell them no, and as you watched them excitedly try to figure out what pose to go with you figured you could feed into their inherent goofiness just this once in the spirit of Christmas.

Carmy stood in the kitchen of his childhood home watching as his mom prepared for Christmas dinner the following day, vehemently refusing any help when he offered it up but forcing him to keep her company and recount all of his culinary adventures as she worked.

He watched his mom move around the kitchen in an organized frenzy, talking to herself at points when she listed off what needed to be done next. Carmy could already see the weight of the looming festivities hanging heavy over her head, stressing her out before the day even began. While he understood and appreciated her love for food and cooking probably more than anyone considering she fostered that same love and appreciation within him when it came to the culinary arts, he always wondered why she insisted on cooking family dinner every year if it always ended in a mess.

“Oh fuck me!” The loud expletive forced Carmy from the recesses of his mind as he stared in his mother’s direction. “Carm honey, do me a favor and finish decorating the fireplace, the box of decorations is already out there.” 

Carmy stood there a minute longer trying to compute the fact that his culinary excellence was being disregarded and he was being put on decorating duty, “Carmen. Can you do it or do I have to do every fucking thing myself?” 

“No, uh yeah I got it.” He met his mother’s eyes nodding his head up and down in acquiesce, to let her know he had it under control.

She shooed him out of the kitchen returning to her food prep before he even made to move to the living room. Carmy quickly found the box of decorations exactly where his mom said it would be, the house was abnormally quiet he assumed Mikey was at The Beef but he couldn’t be sure he had no need to be near the sandwich shop at the moment and Sug moved out ages ago so here he was stuck in his childhood home with nothing better to do than decorate the fireplace mantle.

Carmy knew however he decorated the mantle his mom would just come behind him and fix it to her liking, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. Maybe if he got it close enough to how she liked she would have to do less fixing. He was surprised to find how calming decorating the mantle was, but maybe that was only because he didn’t care to impress anyone with his subpar decorating skills.

Reaching into the box Carmy pulled out the stockings each one designated to one of the Berzatto siblings. He easily hung the stockings onto the hooks on the mantle before reaching in for the last one, embroidered with a name he was sure he hadn’t seen in far too long a time. Carmy was foolish to think that because he ruined the friendship between the two of you that his family would disregard your whole existence over his mistakes. 

Carmy remembered how hard he tried for the first couple of months after he’d left to get into contact with you, to try and let you know just how sorry he was and how much he missed your friendship…missed you. If you ever gave him the chance, he was sure he’d spend his whole life apologizing for that moment. 

That night would haunt him forever, and his mind made sure of it, the worst moment of his life was on a constant loop anytime he got a moment of calm and quiet. Which wasn’t often but they happened enough for the hurt and pain on your face from that night to be permanently seared into his mind. And when it wasn’t memories of the way the moonlight illuminated the tears running down your face from that night, it was the overwhelming guilt that weighed on him for ever speaking to you that way.

Carmy’s hand traced across the embroidered thread of your name as though passing over it enough times would permanently thread the letters into his skin. He hesitated, unsure if they still hung the stocking long after you moved, a moment passed before he decided he would hang it if only just to catch a glimpse of something that reminded him of you. Carmy maneuvered the other stockings around in order to make space for yours trying to ignore the warmth that filled his chest at the sight of your name hanging directly next to his. 

He was pulled from his daze as his phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession, he pulled the device out of his back pocket unsurprised to find Nat blowing up the sibling's group chat, plus Richie courtesy of Mikey. He was ready to shove the phone back in his pocket when a message coming through from Richie caught his eye, his heart sped up a bit as he read it before it disappeared off of his screen. 

Carmy was positive he had never opened the sibling's group chat as fast as he did at that moment. Opening the text chain he frowned at the assortment of pictures above Richie’s message doing his best to figure out what the hell he was looking at. The first few pictures were of Pete and Nat and as much as he loved his sister he wasn’t interested in seeing either of them. His thumb began swiping through the photos rapidly unsure why anyone would take so many photos of the same things over and over again. Carmy found himself stopping on one picture in particular, a picture that was neither Sug nor Pete, but presumably, the person who took the previous pictures of the couple. 

There you were. 

Smiling so wide it almost looked painful, a glow to your skin that made Carmy unsure if it was from the phone camera or if you were actually glowing. The picture was blurry but for the most part, he could make out your features, he would recognize you anywhere even after all the time spent apart he would be able to pick you out of a crowd with no trouble at all. That’s how deeply you were ingrained into his brain even if the last time he saw you was when you were a fresh high school graduate.

He scrolled once more the side of his lips ticking up at the same photo this time just a lot clearer, he absentmindedly saved the photo to his phone before resuming his viewing. Carmy’s eyes were always drawn to you when you were in any of the photos, at some point he began disregarding Sug and Pete entirely, giving you his full attention. He couldn’t help the quiet chuckle as he scrolled through all the shenanigans the three of you got up to saving another individual shot of you in front of the Christmas tree in Christmas-themed pajamas with matching socks and a headband with two candy canes in the shape of a heart. The sight of you smiling directly at the camera made it seem as though you were looking directly at him, a blush rose to Carmy’s cheeks at how pathetic it was for him to get so worked up over a few photos of you. He looked at the last photo a moment longer before realization dawned on him, his eyes quickly shot from his phone screen to the stocking he hung up. 

Carmy scrolled through the recently sent messages he missed after staring at the pictures of you so long gathering enough information to confirm his suspicions. He quickly turned on his heel before heading back into the kitchen.

“Yo ma,” she gave a distracted hum which was enough for him to begin his line of questioning. “Is uh…does Baby still come to family Christmas?” 

The older woman stopped what she was doing turning to face her youngest son with the most egregious ‘are you fucking stupid’ look Carmy received in a while. “Do I bust my ass every year preparing seven fishes that nobody ever fucking appreciates or eats?” 

Carmy was unsure if it was a trick question but as his mom raised her eyebrows awaiting an answer he realized there in fact was a right answer, “Yes?”

She shook her head looking him up and down as if he were a stranger “I don’t know what’s gotten into you Carmen, it’s like you're from a whole different fucking planet. Of course, the girl comes to Christmas, we're the only family she’s got left.” She stopped speaking to pull out the pack of cigarettes she kept on her slipping one between her lips before speaking around it. “And you would fuckin’ know that if you came home once in a while Bear.” 

Carmy nodded his head ignoring the last sentence as he let the information settle in, he would be seeing you face to face for the first time since high school, and the two of you would be in the same for hourse. He took his chance to slip out of the kitchen as his mother turned back to finish her prepping. He needed some time to himself to try not to work himself into a frenzy as he thought about what tomorrow would bring.

The Berzatto family home looked exactly as you left it all those years ago, the only noticeable difference was the Christmas decorations but other than that it was still your bonus home, the home you spent as much if not more time in than your own home. 

The home you grew up in sat just right across the street, a family of three began renting it a year after you left for college and although it was weird to think that another family was living in the home that would always hold a piece of you, you were just happy to rent it out to a loving family. You’d try to find the time and bring them a goodie basket or something, you always sent holiday cards, but now that you were in town you could meet them properly. 

You stood at the trunk of your rental car staring at the array of wrapped presents trying to decide if you should bring them all in now or just wait. Your eyes fell on the matte black sleek box, the last-minute gift cost more than it would’ve if you bought it ahead of time, you bit your lip the longer you stared at it only now feeling uncertain about the unwarranted gift.

“You sure you’re up for this?” The voice came from your side, Hayden leaned against the car as he watched you stare at the box as though it personally wronged you.

A small sigh escaped you as you turned to face him, arms crossing over your chest “Not really, no but I come home every Christmas and I can’t stop just because he happens to be in town.” Hayden looked at you like he knew you were lying but decided against mentioning it. “Thanks for coming with me by the way, I know it was last minute…how you holding up?”

Hayden shrugged before looking straight ahead, “Well my best friend has been sleeping with my wife for the better part of a year, and said wife served me divorce papers two days before Christmas so.” His voice trailed off as he gave you a sarcastic smile. “But I would say you’re having a worse day than me so it makes me feel a bit better.”

You frowned, not entirely understanding what he was getting at, causing him to roll his eyes, “Oh c’mon Baby, the kid you’ve been in love with our whole lives is home for Christmas, the two of you never even dated mind you. He broke your heart years ago and for some reason, you’re still in love with the idiot but won’t pick up the phone to tell him, and all of your relationships have failed because you’re too stuck living in the past.”

“I should’ve left your ass at home wallowing in self-pity.” 

Hayden’s lips pulled into a sardonic smile as he tipped his head to you. “Well now we can wallow in self-pity together, you can stay out here in the cold looking at that stupid box, but I’ll be in that warm house drinking all of Miss Berzatto’s good liquor.” 

The front door opening drew both of your attention, your heads swiveled to watch Mikey exit the house and begin making his way to you, a frown lined his face as his eyes landed on Hayden by your side confused at the extra guest you brought with you.

“Why the fuck are the two of you standing out here in the cold.” Mikey’s gruff voice felt like a balm for the doubt that was beginning to eat away at you from Hayden’s unwelcome reality check.

Hayden moved quicker than you anticipated, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “Oh you know just reminding our girl here that love sucks and it's all a fucking illusion because no matter how much you love someone they’ll always end up fucking your pseudo brother.” 

Mikey’s confusion was evident as his eyebrows pinched together even more, his eyes darted between the two of you mouth opening to speak only to quickly close as you shook your head back and forth as subtly as possible.

“Hey, is your mom drinking yet?” Hayden’s question earned a hesitant nod from Mikey who was unsure if providing her a drinking partner was the best thing to do. “Great…great, well merry fucking Christmas!” Hayden pressed a gentle kiss into your temple before moving to head into the house, clapping Mikey on the shoulder as he went by. 

Mikey moved to stand next to you, the both of you watching the train wreck of a man head into the Berzatto household. “What the fuck is up with that kid?” Mikey turned to look at you trying to figure out exactly what kind of mess you brought to family Christmas.

“Sasha’s leaving him.” You watched as understanding washed over Mikey’s face a small nod following as he put two and two together at Hayden’s weirder-than-usual behavior. Mikey opened his mouth to give you shit about bringing the insufferable kid with you only stopping as you spoke over him. “He’s good people, Mikey, I just didn’t want him alone on Christmas.”

Mikey didn’t have an argument for that. As irritating as Hayden could be he found himself indifferent towards the kid you called friend. Mikey was loathed to admit it and he would deny it if anyone ever asked him, but he had a secret appreciation for the kid, Hayden was there for you during a tough time in your life, he was there for you when you needed a friend or someone in your corner who wasn’t directly connected to the youngest Berzatto and for that, Mikey respected the kid, but it's not like he’d ever tell you or him that. 

“Let me look at you,” Mikey’s voice broke through the quiet that had settled over the two of you, your eyes flashed to his face taking in the facial hair he'd decided to grow out. “All fucking grown up ain’t you. Can we still call you Baby or you too grown for that shit now?” 

You rolled your eyes at the joke Mikey made every time you came home before turning and grabbing your bag from where you sat it in the trunk, leaving the gifts behind and moving to walk towards the house with Mikey, “As much as I regret the nickname I’m not sure if I could get used to hearing you all call me by my first name again.” 

Mikey chuckled at your words, hand moving out to grab your elbow and stop you from continuing ahead. “Relax out here with me for a bit yeah?”

A frown lined your face as Mikey stopped in front of you, you could tell he had ulterior motives for stopping you, his hand moving to take the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket before lifting it to his mouth and lighting it. 

“You uh, you know your little boyfriends in that house right?” 

Your nose scrunched up at Mikey’s words, you could hear the teasing tone in his voice as he spoke but that didn’t mean his words didn’t make your chest ache. Of course, you knew he was here, but not until a week after you booked your flight and Nat gave you some bullshit excuse about how she just didn’t know he was coming home for Christmas. You were upset with her and rightfully so but Pete somehow still talked you into coming and so here you were pretending like seeing Carmy after so long didn’t matter, pretending like you hadn’t teared up on the drive over with your face turned to the window as Hayden drove, quietly reliving every vile word Carmy spewed at you that night in your head. Pretending as though you didn’t carry his words along with the hurt they caused within you for years like they didn’t change the way you viewed yourself and took up space in other people’s lives, maybe Hayden’s observation about you carrying the past around was more factual than you once thought. 

And it didn’t matter that he tried getting back in contact with you his first year in California or that he sent flowers and a card when your mom passed saying he’d come home if you needed him to. None of it mattered because it would never make up for the underlying truth in his cold, cruel words from all those years ago.  

Mikey’s eyes darted around your face watching the small changes in your expression knowing you were thinking about the past, his cigarette halfway gone as he lost you to the inner workings of your mind. He took another puff before letting it fall from his fingertips and stomping it out, the tears lining your eyes forced him to move faster as he tucked you into his chest listening to you struggle to breathe as you fought to keep the sobs from wracking through your body.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. You can leave right now if you need to and no one has to know you were here.” His hand raised to stroke your head as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth. “Hayden will understand.” 

You pressed your forehead into his chest as you willed yourself to calm down not wanting to make it obvious you’d been crying once the two of you made your way inside although it was probably already too late for that. 

“Why does it still hurt Mikey?”

A deep sigh raised the older man's chest at your words, his hands fell to your biceps gently pulling you away from him. The look Mikey gave you said it all, a look that forced you to face a truth you’d been running from for the past five years. Creating a new life and pretending as though whatever misguided feelings you held towards Carmy were just that of a childhood crush. 

It still hurt because you never stopped loving him.

You were thankful Mikey didn’t speak the words aloud unlike Hayden, you’d already been lectured by him countless times on this subject, Richie even jumped in from time to time to express his discontent. No one could understand why you held onto your feelings for Carmy so strongly knowing firsthand how much pain and anguish they caused you. You were scolded plenty of times about holding onto all that hurt, being told to either let it all go or talk to Carmy. You couldn’t bring yourself to do either of those things. 

But you couldn’t keep living in your head and feeding into the fairytale of you and Carmy forever. You had to move on with your life at some point, and even though Hayden was correct that one moment from your past kept ruining your future, at this point, you were doing it to yourself. Although it was painful and it took some time, the broken record of Carmy’s words from that night five years ago made it just a bit easier. 

“Baby,” Mikey paused on his words trying to find the right thing to say he felt torn every time this topic came up. You were a little sister to him, he viewed you in the same way he viewed Nat. He wanted the best for you, but this wasn’t it and the both of you knew it. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself? I’m not saying you should forgive Carm m’ just sayin’ holdin’ on to all this hurt isn’t doing you any good.” He watched as you looked away from him, the realization clear on your face, Mikey could read you so well he knew you were tired of carrying the grief of that dead friendship around with you. His hands reached out to cup your face the rough pads of his thumb tenderly caressing your squished cheeks. “You’re finally in the same place after all this time, figure this shit out for both of your sakes.” 

An exhausted sigh escaped your lips as you fought the urge to come up with some lame excuse as to why now wasn’t the right time, but there’d never be a right time for the two of you. 

You wrapped your arms around Mikey’s waist once more needing the warm strong bear hugs he always provided to help calm yourself down enough to be prepared to face everyone, but also to signal you were done with this conversation entirely. You pulled out of Mikey’s grip as he gave you a look seemingly asking if you were okay, you nodded in answer, relaxing into him as he pressed a gentle kiss onto the skin of your forehead.

“Alright, let's get you inside before mom comes out here and cusses me out for keeping you in the cold.” Mikey’s hands rubbed up and down your arms to provide you with the much-needed body heat.

A genuine laugh left your lips knowing Mikey’s words were closer to the truth than one might think. Mikey moved to turn around and begin walking to the door but was forced to stop as you reached out to grab his hand. “I uh, I got you something.” 

His eyebrows raised in question, “Awe you didn’t have to get me nothin’.” You rolled your eyes rummaging through your bag for the two presents and holding them out to him once you found them, chuckling as you watched him place his hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental moments and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else. 

You smiled holding the heavier of the gifts out to him first, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded, feeling your face warm as you let your eyes dart around so you didn’t have to watch his reaction.

Mikey smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfed it from end to end. He smiled at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shoved his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands holding it in front of your chest, the glass facing him so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, I didn’t trademark it for myself or anything. I just remember how much you all used to talk about this, and I'm not sure if it's something you still want but I…I just wanted you to know I still believe in you. And I…I know how tough shit is lately and I promise I didn’t mean to step on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” 

You could hear your long-winded explanation become more emotional by the minute but you needed Mikey to know how loved and appreciated he was. He was a big brother to you, always by your side whenever you needed him, he saw you through all the bullshit with Carmy and helped you to get through your mom's death. And when you were hellbent on throwing whatever little future you didn’t think you had left away he was right there with you pushing you to see just how much you deserved to get out of this godforsaken city and make something of yourself. 

“You deserve so much in this world Mikey, and I wish I could give it to you. But you need to know how much I believe in you and how much I love you, I’m always in your corner,” you paused trying to choke back another round of tears. “And Mikey I…I don’t think I would be here right now if it wasn’t for y-.” 

Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, the both of you taking every bit of love and comfort the other offered in that moment. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. He wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey to have this moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while his emotions ran high. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face, his eyes found yours, 

“Thank you, Baby,” the words were spoken so quietly you were surprised you caught onto them a small imperceptible nod of your head directed at him as you gave him a tearful smile. Mikey placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug. 

You decided it best to leave the biography you finally wrote, printed, and compiled about him after all these years in his room, wanting him to be able to experience it in private so he could indulge in whatever feelings it brought forth. 

Mikey’s head sat atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. The hug you shared with Mikey in that moment felt heavier than any other time you had the pleasure of being held in his arms. You’d be remiss not to notice but chose instead not to bring it up to him and enjoy the moment for what it was.

A moment of peace.

30 minutes passed since Michael escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty, he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping their mom out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever grabbed Mikey’s attention. 

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, but not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list off a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it. 

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy offered to him marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the color drain from his face at the older man’s words, the younger of the two looking as nauseous as the pregnant woman upstairs. Although he knew you were in town he’d gotten so sucked into the chaotic energy of everything that his mind hadn’t given him any time to overthink seeing you all these years later and if he knew Mikey was outside with you he would’ve made sure he was nowhere in the vicinity of your entrance, not because he didn’t want to see you or be around you but because after all these years he still had no idea how to admit every feeling he kept bottled up and tucked away from you. 

“Did you not know she was coming? Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those two idiots probably just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jagoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family and a surprise plus one. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who finally joined his side nodding his head to the window. 

“Awe and she brought her little boyfriend with her.” Richie’s words bounced through Carmy’s head like a game of pinball. You were seeing somebody? Carmy unceremoniously shoved Richie out of the way to get a glimpse of his own out the window, the older man did his best to hold in his laughter. 

Carmy looked out the window just in time to see you snuggly pressed into another man’s side, his brain working overtime to figure out who it was before he watched the man lean in and press a soft kiss into the side of your head causing Carmy’s stomach to sink. 

“When did they start dating?” Before Carmy could stop himself the question was out in the open, his voice sounded less curious and more annoyed than it should have. 

Richie knew what he was about to do next would probably get him into a load of shit but he couldn’t help but want to fuck with Carmy, would you beat his ass for it later, probably but that wasn’t gonna stop him from having his fun. 

“Ohh shit, nobody told you, Cousin?” Richie did his best to sound sad as he spoke, fighting to keep his face neutral as Carmy turned to look at him. “Listen, I don't think it's my place to tell you.” Richie raised his free hand and the cup up in defense.

Carmy could feel his heart speed up the longer he looked at Richie, “Told me what?” An apologetic look washed over Richie’s face twisting the feeling of despair deeper into Carmy’s chest. “Told me fucking what Richie?” He did his best not to scream in the man’s face but the longer Richie stayed silent the more Carmy was sure he was going to have a breakdown. 

“Carm…she’s,” Richie paused suddenly realizing that maybe this joke wasn’t as funny as he first thought it once was but he was in too deep now. “Baby’s married.” 

The tightness in Carmy’s chest intensified tenfold as his eyes traced Richie’s face for any inkling that he was lying. He could feel his palms becoming clammy as he tried to comprehend the truth bomb Richie just dropped on him. When did you get married? Why didn’t he know? 

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he already knew the answer to that last question. You didn’t want him to know, the two of you weren’t those same kids from five years ago. There was no more sharing everything that happened in your lives with one another and Carmy only had himself to thank for that. 

“Don't fսck with me right now Richie.” Carmy was doing his best to hold onto whatever was left of his resolve not knowing if he could realistically spend his first Christmas home in years watching you be happy with some other man. 

Before the older man could admit to his fallacy the door swung open, the man in question walking through the door. 

“Yo, Richie how you been man? Tiff trynna kill you yet?” His voice drifted through the foyer as he shrugged out of his jacket while Carmy forced himself to turn around making eye contact with the man only receiving an indifferent look in return. “Carmen, good to see you home dude.” 

It took Carmy a moment to realize he knew the man standing in front of him, Hayden Ivanovski was always more your friend than he was Carmy’s but the two of them got along decently enough for your sake. Carmy’s eyes flitted down to the hand stretched out in his direction, quickly latching onto the gold band wrapped around his ring finger, the truth of the situation settled heavily inside of him as he shook Hayden’s hand.

“Yeah uh, good to be back.” Carmy restrained himself from physically massaging out the ache in his chest as he stood in front of the man who succeeded where he couldn’t. He let Hayden’s hand go, tuning out the conversation between Richie and Hayden as he lost himself to the overwhelming thoughts swimming through his head moving to stand just outside of the kitchen as he leaned against the wall. There was no doubt about it, you were married, and those hateful words Carmy spewed at you in the backyard of his family home five years ago probably only helped to push you into Hayden’s embrace. 

Carmy heard you before he saw you. He’d been so lost in his self-deprecating thoughts that he hadn’t heard the door open again. 

All of these years, all the skipped holidays, and Carmy was missing out on you. The sight of you standing in his family home helped to calm his racing heart but then he watched as Hayden pulled you into his side, the two of you looking like a picture of love as the man leaned in placing one more kiss to your temple, conveniently staring Carmy down from across the foyer. 

Carmy dropped his gaze from Hayden before focusing on you once more, the tension seemed to just bleed right out of him as he watched you glow in happiness even if caused by someone else. He was so caught up in his staring that he hadn’t realized the way Mikey glanced at him, eyebrows raised like he was waiting for Carmy to make a move he hadn’t prepared for and didn’t even know he could still make. 

He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity worked its magic on you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school. 

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered, he wasn’t drawn to you because of your appearance it was just you as a person that always kept his attention. The comfort you brought him, the way he used to feel safe just being in your presence, the softness you taught him it was okay to bask in, and the way you allowed him to be vulnerable and unapologetically himself were what really kept him hooked. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things, and he made sure to do so as he stared at you from his vantage point staring around Mikey’s body. Carmy was sure he could look at you all day and deep down inside, he knew he would spend most of Christmas doing just that now that a future with you wasn’t attainable. 

He was pulled from his study of you as your voice rang through his ears, the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth warmed his body. 

“Merry Christmas Carmy,” he could tell your smile was forced, but even the fact that he was worthy of your attention at this moment was enough for him. “It’s nice to see you home.” 

Carmy tried not to read into your words knowing you were just being friendly but the way Mikey cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at his younger brother, he knew he needed to say something. 

The moment was lost though as another voice interrupted the silence that fell over the group in the foyer. 

“Baby, is that you? My goodness, you look fucking gorgeous and you brought Hayden!” Half of Donna’s body popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet the newcomers. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, while she held a ladle in her right hand and the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron was covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else she was in the kitchen making.

Carmy watched as you laughed half in amusement, you and Hayden both waved in his mother’s direction. Hayden gestured for you to walk in front of him as you both made your way to the kitchen. Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girl's bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. “C’mon Hayden, I need someone to drink and gossip with.”

The man wasted no time tossing his jacket atop the rest of the pile before maneuvering around Carmy and you. Richie and Mikey had dispersed at some point leaving the foyer empty aside from the two old friends. Carmy gestured for your tote, taking it out of your hand before awkwardly helping you to slip off your jacket doing his best not to touch you unnecessarily. 

Carmy tried to match the small smile you gave him as you made to move around him but was sure he just looked miserable. He was surprised as you gripped his bicep before walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” He watched as you genuinely smiled at him for the first time in years, unsure if the rhythm his heart was beating in was healthy or not.

A concerned look washed over your face at Carmy’s silence forcing the man to hesitantly nod his head surprised you would’ve gotten him anything after all this time. He opened his mouth to speak but settled against doing so, sure he would make a fool of himself, instead giving you a small shy smile in return. Carmy watched you a moment longer, your own mouth opening and closing like his once had before you settled on a simple nod and dropped your hand back to your side, before walking into the kitchen.

Whatever little hope that interaction had given Carmy was dashed as soon as he heard Hayden’s voice call out to you. You were happy and that’s all he ever wanted, Carmy knew he should’ve been happy for you, but he couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with the fact that all of this could’ve been avoided if he had just been honest with you five years ago.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have to watch as another man brought forth the happiness that once used to be reserved for him. 

a/n: well, well, well what do we have here? gonna be honest idk how the bear fandom is doing so this series rewrite may not get as much love as the original, but that doesn't bother me as much as it used to.

some quick housekeeping as we begin this journey once more; ya girl is working full time so updates will be sporadic, genuinely have no upload schedule so please if you read this rewrite be gracious and understand i have a real life outside of fic writing. other than that please enjoy like/comment/reblog it means a lot.

i've missed you all so much please fangirl with me over these two once more! 🫶🏼🤍

[nerdie-faerie]

The one specification I gave about my laptop was that I needed it for university so of course it doesn't fit in my uni bag 😅

[frontporchjunkie]

A Christmas less traveled premiere November 16 at 8pm on Great Am-“

[saltnsugarbear]

you've never done me wrong (except for that one time)

summary: a kitchen friendship is born anew as Carmen's hold on the staff stumbles.

title from: "True Blue" by boygenius

word count: 3.8k

content warnings: swearing, reader is close friends with Richie. mentions of divorce, Mikey's death, depression, hazing in the work place.

part one! nsfw headcanons!

Carmy works in silence beside you. Your head is resting on your arms against the counter.

Every night the two of you work on dish presentation and recipes. You're usually the first to feel the effects of exhaustion from the day, laying your head on the counter and watching Carmy work in his notebook.

His colored pencils are scattered and the surface is decorated with pencil shavings. You watch him intently, taking in the curve of his nose, the furrow of his brow, the set of his mouth as he colors with a precision you envy.

The dynamic between you two is one of mutual benefit. Carmy understands how to best present a dish, how it should look on a plate and appeal to the diner. You understand pairings, what ingredients need to be added or removed for a dish to be balanced and shine. And you both work spectacularly in a kitchen, moving together like a dance that only the two of you have learned. Any time one of you is paired with another, it's a mess of bumping into one another and miscommunication.

The only thing you don't agree on is staying awake until a few hours before service prep starts. Carmy has told you several times you don't need to stay awake with him as he works in his notebook, but each time you refusal. Instead choosing to give him grief about being up all night. Your belief is that if you maintain the same sleep schedule, you'll both be on the same frequency for service.

So that leaves you, exhausted in the kitchen fighting the drooping of your eyelids, and Carmy, sketching and coloring a new dish you two had been brainstorming.

"Hey.." The whisper of Carmy's voice startles you. He's collected his pencils and cleaned the counter around you.

"Did I fall asleep?" You search his eyes and Carmy nods.

You sigh and sit up in your seat, rubbing your eyes as Carmy stands up from his own chair. He waits as you slip off from your chair, grabbing your coat and slipping your arm through his.

Carmy has come to expect your gentle affections, the simple touches you offer. A guiding hand at the small of his back, linked arms and holding hands.

You let Carmy lead you to your apartment. You've both taken this walk dozens of times over, you can close your eyes and slump against him as you walk together.

"Stay the night.." You mumbled. Carmy hums beside you, he sounds distant.

This isn't the first time you've asked him to spend the night at your apartment. It certainly won't be the last.

The first time it was under the pretense that it would be quicker for both of you going into the kitchen. Less travel time he has to waste, to and fro.

So when he unlocks your front door, you're unalarmed. Carmy helps you kick your shoes off before he takes off his own. He drops his things beside them, and leads you both to your room. He flips the switch by the door thats attached to the warm Christmas lights you have on your ceiling.

He sits you on your bed, pulling the covers back for you to lay down and lays them over your body. Carmy makes to leave when you call his name. He stops in his tracks as you shuffle farther back and lift the blankets for him.

Carmy was used to setting himself up on your couch. He knew were your extra bedding was and he never complained about the kink in his neck afterwards.

However inviting him into your bed was new. He nervously shuffles towards the edge of the bed and you nod tiredly.

Carmy climbs in beside you, hesitantly. He's still in his jeans and t-shirt. No one will notice his ruffled street clothes tomorrow.

He's awkward as he lays on his side, facing you. You sigh, grumbling something out as you grab at his shirt. You pull at the fabric, bringing him towards you until your face is against his chest.

Carmy is tense until you wrap your arms around him, keeping him close to you. You can feel him relax slowly, and then he wraps his arms around you.

The both of you fall asleep like that. Holding each other under the blankets, lights tacked to the ceiling like stars.

August goes by with as little animosity as you can muster.

Which is not much.

But it's enough that Carmen doesn't feel the need to mention it for a while. The month goes by with as little exchanges between the two of you that can be managed with him being your boss and coworker.

It's awkward at first, and still is. Your cigarette breaks are cut short or prolonged to avoid each other, tasks take longer than they should to avoid running into each other.

You hate the way that you notice how you both still move together so seamlessly. The both of you move around the kitchen together like a dance only you know and it makes you want to throw up.

It reminds you have your time together at Daniel. It reminds you of how things could be different.

You can spot when Carmen notices it because his movements suddenly become awkward and stilted. You run into each other more once he clocks the smooth kitchen dynamic you have. It kind of pisses you off.

You find yourself getting short with him when this happens. Which leads to the butting of heads.

But you spend more time away from each other then around one another. Richie makes snide comments on it until you eventually get him to shut up. No one else notices, at least they don't mention if they do.

Ebra and Tina take to gently harassing Carmen. Making him prove his keep in the kitchen. He throws tantrum after tantrum but they are unrelenting in their antics.

You can see Carmen's fuse running shorter and shorter with them as each day begins anew.

He is going to snap.

Richie is regaling a story about some kid picking on Eva while you're sorting through the plastic utensils and prepping napkins.

He keeps looking at you through out the story and you're nodding along to show your engagement in the story. As he's getting into it, the door to the kitchen swings open.

"Hey, chef?" Sydney pokes her head through the doorway and grabs your attention. "Fill in for Tina? She's going to be late up until service."

You sigh and nod, "Yeah, for sure."

As you follow Syd into the back of house, Richie blows you a kiss that makes you roll your eyes. Sydney has your station set up by the time you're done washing your hands.

"So, Tina was just on vegetable prep. Nothing too crazy, I don't think. I mean, you know the drill, right?" Sydney looks at you and you nod.

"Vegetable prep is nothing, my dear Sydney."

"Okay. Then I don't think there's anything else you need to know. Just let me know when you're done." Sydney taps the counter and you nod before she departs to her own station not far from yours.

The two of you work in the kitchen in mostly silence. Carmen is in the office so Marcus and Ebra are the only other two moving around their respective parts of the kitchen.

"Did you um-" Sydney starts talking, and she hesitates as she lets her thoughts tumble around. "Did you work in a kitchen? Before this?"

"Yeah, actually. I..." You pause and then sigh. "I used to work with Chef Daniel Boulud."

"Oh shit." Sydney glances at you, eyes wide.

You huff a laugh and nod. "Yep."

"How did... How did you end up here?" Sydney asks, turning back to her own prep.

You pause long enough Sydney starts to back pedal, "Actually, you don't have to-"

"No it's okay. Um..." You clear your throat and furrow your brow. "Something happened.. And I had to quit. It was that or be fired."

"Oh shit.." Her voice is hushed but you shrug in response.

"That was four years ago and I'm mostly over it. But it definitely opened my eyes to some shit." You glance at Sydney before looking back at your cutting board.

"But I mean, maybe it was for the best. I met these lovely people," Sydney scoffs a little at that. "I got to know Mikey and I know Richie now. I don't know. I got a new family out of the situation so maybe it's not all bad. It definitely hurt though." You nod as you cut through carrots.

"That's a good way to look at it.." Sydney trails off as the two of you begin to work in silence again.

"I'm sorry that happened, anyways." Sydney does a half shrug and you nod.

"Thank you, chef." You hum.

Sydney hums in response and nods. The two of you continue to work in silence again.

After a few minutes Richie enters the back, fidgety and looking for someone to talk to. He steers clear of you and Sydney, deciding to go to Marcus and Sweeps. He launches himself into conversation, beginning some story you're sure he's already told you.

As he talks and gets more into it, his voice gets loud. Sweeps and Marcus egg him on and you can see Ebra hovering. Eventually Richie is shouting to be heard and laughing loudly.

"Richard," You grab his attention with his full name, not looking away from your station, and loud enough to be heard over his own chatter. You raise your hand to lay level above your head and start moving it downwards.

"Oh shit. Sorry, sweetheart." Richie's voice is quieter now.

"It's okay, bub. Thank you." You bring your hand back to your task and Richie continues his story, keeping his voice as leveled as he can.

"Holy shit." Sydney breathes out next to you and you shoot her a questioning look.

"He doesn't listen to, like, anyone." She looks at you and searches your face like it'll show her the answers.

You chuckle and nod at that. "He only listens because I put up with his other shit. And his daughter likes me, so it's hard to explain to a five year old why her cousin that she's seen for years stops showing up."

Sydney keeps looking at you in awe which makes you shake your head. "Back to work, chef."

You gesture to her cutting board and she tears her gaze away with a nod.

"Um... Why would you stop showing up, chef?" Sydney asks with her brow furrowed.

"I wouldn't. He just... Has these weird attachment issues. He gets anxious over it so he... Behaves himself to not scare me off. He has his bad days but we're only human." You shrug. Sydney hums and the two of you go back to working in silence.

Once you finish, Sydney guides you through mixing and storing it in accord with the restaurant system. As you're cleaning up your stations, Carmen comes into the kitchen like a force of wind. He stops a few steps from the office when he spots you at the counter.

You watch in your periphery as Carmen looks between you and Sydney. Sydney nods at him and he shakes his head back at her.

"Uh.. Chef." You turn as Carmen nods at you.

"Chef." You look at him as you finish wiping down the counter. You both stand there for a few seconds until Sydney clears her throat.

"Thank you, chef... For helping with Tina's prep." She nods and gives you a smile.

"Yeah, it's no problem, Syd." You nod back as you depart from the two of them. You make your way to coral Richie and Sweeps to the front of house, ignoring Carmen's gaze on your back as you leave.

Richie slings his arm over your shoulder with Sweeps behind you, as Carmen rounds up his cooks and begins debriefing them for service.

After the health inspector leaves, hell breaks loose. Everyone else dispersed to their respective stations, except for you, Sydney, Carmen and Richie.

Richie and Carmen start yelling and jabbing fingers at each other again. Once they start shoving each other, Sydney attempts to break it up again. When that doesn't work, you shove your way between the two of them, less worried than Sydney about who gets knocked by an elbow.

Richie immediately stops his movements and favors yelling at Carmen from behind you. Carmen bites his tongue, glaring at Richie above your head and clenching his fists at his sides.

"Shut up, Richard!" You turn and look at him over your shoulder. You notice Carmen inhale to begin his verbal assault again and stop him in his tracks. "That doesn't mean you start again, Carmen. You need to go take a fucking breather."

Carmen stares at you and there's a fire in his eyes. "We got a fuckin' C. You can't be fuckin' okay with that? It's, it's-"

"I don't give a fuck what it is right now. You need to step out, and maybe when you're feeling like having a real conversation, we can deal with this. Instead of taking that shit out on Richie."

That was the wrong thing to say. It only adds fuel to the fire that is Carmen's anger.

"Maybe, if you fucking cleaned- If, if you actually helped around this place instead of- of fucking flirting with Richie!" Carmen gestures wildly, his voice raising with each word.

"Don't you fucking yell at me." You stab a finger into Carmen's chest, getting up in his face and much louder than him. The kitchen has all but ceased movement and clatter.

"Don't yell at me, you fucking child. You know that shit doesn't work." Carmen is silent as you study his face before backing off.

"Get your fucking shit together, Carmen. Instead of taking it out on your chefs." You untie your apron as you head towards the back door.

"Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?" Carmen calls after you. In response you flip him off as you barge out the door.

Once you're outside, you fish out your lighter and pack of cigarettes, shaking out a stick before tossing the pack and your apron onto one of the crates on the floor. When you light the stick you take a deep inhale and hold before letting it out.

The door opens and you're prepared to launch yourself at Carmen.

Instead you see Sydney. She’s got a container of water in her hand her eyes cast towards the ground. You hum at her in acknowledgment as you take another drag. After your appraisal Sydney walked over and sat on the opposite crate from where you had thrown your stuff.

"I have never seen someone tell Carmy off like that." Her voice is soft and a little surprised. You let out a huff of a laugh as you release the smoke from your lungs.

"He's just an asshole." You say as you dip down and offer Sydney your pack. She scrunches up her nose and shakes her head, which makes you grin.

"Smart move. This shit kills." You punctuate your sentence with another drag that makes Sydney chuckle.

"Did you know Carmy? Before the Beef?" Sydney toes at the asphalt before she looks up at you with big brown eyes.

You turn away and shrug, "Depends on what you mean by know. I've worked with him in the past. I thought I knew him as well as I knew myself but he ended up being a back stabbing bitch."

You flick your cigarette to the ground and stub it out with your shoe.

"Don't get too attached to the idea of you guys being super great work buddies. He'll throw you to the curb if it means saving his own ass." With that you grabbed your apron, opened the door and give Sydney a two finger salute before walking back in.

Inside Richie and Carmen are arguing about the caulk. Still. You sigh and begin tying your apron behind you. It's going to be a long fucking service.

The door from the kitchen swings shut as you walk through, making your way behind the counter until you hear people talking in the dining area.

"Oh shit. Hi, Mr. Cicero." You spot Cicero talking with Carmen by the window.

He and Carmen turn towards you, expressions a stark difference between each other. Cicero smiles at you as you make your way over to them, but Carmen looks shocked at your intrusion.

"How many times do I have to tell you, kid, it's Uncle Jimmy." Cicero pulls you into a side hug as you shake your head.

"Yeah, and Richard's actually my cousin." You sigh as he let's go of you. "If you're lucky, maybe you'll reach Mr. Jimmy instead."

"It'll have to do." He sighs and then gestures towards the sign in the window. "What's that about, kid?"

You follow his gaze to the C in the window and shake your head.

"Just business as usual, Mr. Cicero. I mean, you know," You shrug as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "It's been a rough going but um... I think we're getting somewhere."

Your gaze flicks to Carmen briefly before turning back to Cicero. Cicero nods when you look back at him.

"Alright, kid. Now uh... You know I love seeing you, but I mean, you know," Cicero gestures between him and Carmen. You get the hint.

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize, you actually saved me from more of the same story." Cicero assures you as you fidget with your apron.

"Of course," You smile and nod at him. "Make sure you come by again soon."

Cicero nods and brings you into another side hug. You return the hug as you bid him farewell, effectively removing yourself from the conversation and heading back to the kitchen.

At the same time you enter, Sydney and Richie enter through the back door. They're both silent as they walk in. Sydney stops by her locker, opening it and shedding her bag and coat. She fishes out the bag from the hardware store and her apron before she closes the door and hands the bag to Richie.

Richie snatches the bag from her and Sydney leaves to go find Carmen before service.

Wordlessly, you take out your pack of cigarettes, holding it out to Richie in offering. He shakes his head at you in response, so you lightly bump him with your shoulder on your way out the back door.

You plop down on one of the crates along the wall, fishing out your lighter and shake out a stick. Once you have it lit, you lay your head back against the wall when you inhale.

You're out there for a few minutes until the back door opens. You don't move, scrolling through your phone and not entirely bothered by whoever might be joining you on their own smoke break. There's the crunch of footsteps until the stop short. They don't start again but the door hasn't opened again. You look up and a nearly drop your cigarette when you see Carmen.

He's stood a few feet from you, his own cigarette hanging off his lips as he takes you in.

Deciding you were there first and desperately needing this cigarette (and maybe a second), you turn back to your phone. Effectively ignoring him. You hear the click of his lighter and the drag he takes through the filter, but he doesn't move.

You continue to ignore him when you flick away the bud of your cigarette, taking a moment to finish your article before you fish out another one. Carmen takes that as his signal to speak up.

"So, you uh- you just know everyone from my family?" He asks you, making you look up at him. Carmen is watching you already as he exhales, his blue eyes studying your face.

"I didn't track them down, if that's what you're thinking. I didn't decide to move to Chicago and find the Berzatto family as some long awaited revenge." You look down to grab your pack, so you don't have to see his eyes anymore, and take out another stick. You place it to your lips but before you can get your lighter, you hear the click of Carmen's. When you look back at him, he's holding his lighter out for you.

When you don't brush him off, Carmen slowly moves and watches as the flame sparks the end of your cigarette. Once it's done, he pulls his arm away quickly, as if you'll bite it off.

"I didn't think you had." Carmen shrugs.

"Yeah well, I thought I knew everything you thought." You let that hang in the air for a moment. Until Carmen clears his throat.

"How did you meet um..." Carmen doesn't finish. You know who he means.

"My brother. Graduated with Mikey, knew he was looking for people. Set me up." You gesture with the cigarette in your hand. "And you're not actually related to Cicero or Richie so.."

"Close enough," Carmen huffs and kicks at the pebbles on the asphalt.

"Nat's pissed at you, by the way. Not as much as I always am, but pretty close." You nod and then take a drag, looking down the alley towards the street. You want this conversation to end soon.

Carmen sighs at that and you catch him nodding, like he already knows.

"And quit being such a dick to Richie. He's obnoxious but he's dealing with enough shit without you piling onto it." You voice your disdain for his bullying with your exhale of smoke.

Since February, Richie's personal life had taken a nosedive into the garbage. In the weeks after Mikey's death Tiffany served Richie with the divorce paperwork. This took another massive toll on Richie's mental health when you were already trying to hold it together. You think that the presence of yourself and Eva barely kept the man with his head above water. You spent weeks creating a routine of assurance and dependability with Richie that he still questioned, even now.

"I'm uh... I'm s-" Carmen starts, looking at the ground. Again.

"Don't fucking do this." You glare up at him. Carmen looks at you with wide eyes. "Just shut up. I'm not doing this again."

You turn away from him, brows furrowed and lips set in a frown. You don't see him leave but you hear his footsteps on the asphalt and the creak of the back door. Then it's quiet again.

You sigh, and rest your head against the wall again. Finishing your cigarette in the Chicago peace.