#getting to see donna again really fixed him

[bookshelf-dust]

gentle fingers, gentler boy

carmen berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,589

warnings: swearing, joking mentions of arson, one donna mention, i don’t think anything else??

synopsis: carmy needs a haircut—desperately. or so natalie tells him. she sends him to you, and it’s safe to say carmy never would’ve expected a trim would turn into the best date he’s ever had in his life.

a/n: hello, my loves! don’t even ask my why this fic has taken me so long to write because i couldn’t tell you. but i do imagine it has something to do with the fact that i have the attention span of a goldfish these days. anyhow, i wrote this as a kind of predecessor to this fic, because something about carmy and his hairdresser gf is so special to me. let me know what you think!! happy reading <33

————

“You really do need a haircut, Bear.”

Sugar leans up against the office door frame. Her younger brother is hunched over the desk, an Igor incarnate, flipping through a pile of papers Cicero left for him. 

Richie’s voice booms throughout the kitchen. “I been tellin’ him that, Sug! It needs a wash, too. He’s startin’ to look like Jack…Jack…” He snaps his fingers, searching for a name. “The psycho asshole from The Shining!”

“Jack Torrence,” Marcus chirps.

“Jack Torrence!” Richie claps, making Sugar roll her eyes. She moves closer to Carmen, leaning against the corner of the desk. She crosses her arms. 

“I told you, Carm, you can go see my girl. She’s never done me wrong.” 

That small, gentle smile she has grows on her lips. Natalie gently pushes her brother’s shoulder. “And hey, she stopped me from getting bangs again a few weeks ago.”

Richie’s hands fly upward, pressing together in a prayer pose. “Thank fuck. Bangs were never your look, babe.”

“Shut up, Richie!” Sugar and Carmen’s voices ring out simultaneously, as if they’d rehearsed for this very moment of synchronization.

Carmy’s clogs drag against the tile floor as he braces his palms against the desktop and pushes himself backwards. He scrubs his face with his hands, leaving it tinged red when he finally relents.

He looks up at his sister, a firm wrinkle formed between her brows. Carmen huffs.

“What did you say her name was?” Carmy asks, eyes darting to the clock, searching for the time only to realize no one ever fixed the damn thing. “Hey, Richie! Can you get some fuckin’ batteries in here?”

Sugar’s eyes squeeze shut at the volume Carm’s voice has just reached. But nevertheless, she pinches her nose and says your name. 

“She’s like, fifteen minutes down the road. She went to school for it, she respects shy people, and I promise–she’s not gonna cut your ear off.”

Richie rounds the corner at that exact moment, a pile of double A’s shoved in his pocket. He pulls the analog clock off the wall and pries open the back panel. “Oh, you mean like that time Mikey snipped the tip of his ear clean–”

“Oh my god, enough, Richard!” Sugar’s hands fly around in front of her face. Unfortunately it only encourages Richie further, laughing to himself as he snaps four batteries into place. He’s still laughing—clapping his hands together because he’s so tickled—when he walks back toward the front of the house. 

Carmen’s fist covers his mouth. He’s tempted to laugh himself, but he at least knows better by now. Natalie sighs loud enough for the people across the street to hear. 

“Look, Carm. I’ll even make the appointment for you if that would help, but it’s gotta happen. You look like shit.”

Carmy snorts, standing up from the wonky office chair. “Thanks, Nat.”

Sugar’s phone is already in her hand. 

“So that’s a yes? What time would be best? Actually, I’ll just tell you when you’re going. Settled.”

————

“You getting off, Leigh?”

Your coworker ties her hair up in an artfully messy bun. “Yeah, babe. I took a half day because it’s date night tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, shimmying her way across the floor so she can plant a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Your mom got the kids?” You ask, laughing to yourself as you rinse the leftover conditioner from your sink. 

Leigh claps her hands. “All weekend, girl!” 

You toss your gloves in the trash, letting her hug you and bounce up and down in glee. She deserves this. She hasn’t gotten a night out with her husband in months, their three-year-old twins keeping them more than occupied.

“I hope you have fun tonight. Drink something with Irish cream in it for me, will you?” 

Leigh’s hands pat your cheeks gently. “Oh, you know I will. Just wish you were getting out there too.”

You wave her away, and she’s quick to hold up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Is Natalie’s brother still coming in today?”

Your eyes dart to the clock over her head. “Should be here in like, five minutes.”

The doorbell chimes. 

Both yours and Leigh’s heads snap in that direction. 

“Or…now.”

“Oh, fucking Christ.”

Your eyes flick back to each other immediately, having spoken at the exact same time. Leigh is not gonna let your outburst go. 

There’s already a devilish grin growing across her face. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?”

You dart around her. “No. Those words never left my mouth.”

She catches you by the belt loop. “You’re right, I believe your exact words were ‘Oh fucking Christ, he could bend me over right here.’” Leigh’s laughter bubbles up and you fear she might keel over. 

“That is an exaggeration,” you huff. 

Leigh slings her worn out, bright red purse over her shoulder. “Bet you were thinking it though.” She risks a glance over her shoulder. “You’re not wrong though. His arms are huge. And you better go help him before we get a bad Yelp review.”

You start to wave her away. “Yeah, alright.” You follow her towards the front desk. “Have fun tonight,” you shout, “and remember to make sure you have meds for tomorrow’s hangover.”

She fake gasps, pausing just beside where Carmen is standing. “Me? Hungover? Never.” Leigh lowers her sunglasses just slightly and directs her next few words at the man in front of her. “She’ll take real good care of you, youngest Berzatto.”

The doorbell chimes as Leigh makes her way out to her beat up Mustang, leaving you and Carmy alone out front. 

He laughs awkwardly, shuffling towards the front counter to meet you.

“Sorry about her,” you say. “She’s full of it. Anyway, Carmen, right? Natalie told me you’d try and come by today.”

Carmy’s cheeks burn with embarrassment from being put on the spot. But also because you’re so…pretty. He manages to pull together a few coherent words. 

“She really said try?” he asks, the barest of smiles gracing his lips.

You cross your arms and walk over to your station. “No. It was more of ‘He’ll be there at 4:30 tomorrow or else I’m going to burn down The Bear and keep the insurance money for myself.’”

Carmen scratches at his curls. “Yeah, that I believe.”

You gently pat the back of your leather chair. “You can sit whenever you’re ready. I realize I never really introduced myself.” You say your name, and even if it’s a name Carm has heard a hundred times before, it somehow sounds hypnotizing falling off your lips. 

The leather backing is cold through Carmy’s t-shirt. He hopes the shiver that moves down his spine when you thread your fingers through his hair passes off as the coinciding goosebumps. 

“So, what are we thinking today, Carmen?”

His big blue eyes blink at you through the mirror. “Carmy,” he says.

“Hm?” you hum, running a wide-toothed comb carefully through his curls so that nothing snags. 

“You don’t have to call me Carmen. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” A low laugh tumbles over his lips. “Carmy is fine.”

You smile at him. “Okay, Carmy. What would you like me to do with your hair today? Buzz cut? Mohawk?” You walk around to face him head on. “Extensions?”

You notice how nervously he plays with his hands. But you get it. You’re hoping to make him as comfortable as you can, and not just for that good Google review.

Carmy runs a hand over his mouth, hiding the sweet smile that’s growing there. The crinkles by his eyes give it away. You’re so fucking charming he can’t stand it. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking just a trim? It’s kinda long over my eyes, and sometimes it’s good to see things.” You giggle. 

Good god, how’s he gonna get through this?

“Maybe a little shorter on the sides, too.”

“Like a mullet?” You quip.

He snorts. “Nah, not a full mullet. Maybe where it’s barely noticeable that it’s shorter there? I’m also shit at taking care of it, so if you could help with that…”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth. Carmy has to clear his throat, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “How ‘bout this. I’ll take you to the sink and give it a wash, and then we’ll trim it, and I can have you help me style it so it’s easier when you’re at home?”

Carmy nods. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.” 

Your hand slides across the back of his shoulders as you move away and towards the back room full of head-sized basins. “Come on then, Mr. Berzatto. Let’s wash that pretty head of yours.”

————

“That feels so good,” Carmen says, the words leaving his mouth before he has a moment to think them over. “Wait—is that a weird thing to say?”

You laugh from your place behind him. “No, not at all. That’s why I keep my nails a little longer, because my clients always tell me this is the best part.” Your hands are covered in a lavender-scented shampoo, your fingertips massaging the foam into his scalp. “A good head scratch does wonders for the soul.”

You watch Carmy’s lips lift at the corners. His eyes are closed, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he dozed off. You’re always happy to keep a conversation going with clients, but the silence is just as well.

The sounds of foils getting folded in place by your coworker out front, the air conditioner, the radio—it’s all oddly soothing. The radio station Leigh always sets it on has the oddest selection of music choices for one given channel. Not that you mind that either. 

You rinse Carmen’s hair out and apply conditioner to the mids and ends of his curls. You blindly grab a comb, muscle memory putting it in your grasp in seconds.

Carmy swears he’s gonna knock out. He’s trying about as hard as he did in school when he knew he should be paying attention to whatever math lesson but couldn’t keep his eyes open. And when your words reach his ears, he thinks you’ve just read his mind. Sensed the sleep pricking at his eyelids. 

“You do have really nice hair, Carmy. Anyone else in your family have curls?”

You watch the way his brows knit together. “I think my mom? You’d never know it though. She’s straightened it every day since I was a teenager, like even when we weren’t leaving the house.”

You focus on your final rinse of his hair, allowing him to continue. “When I was a kid though, if she showered before bed and I needed her, her hair would be all wet and curly. That’s the only time I saw it like that.”

Carmy sits up when you wrap a thin towel around his head, holding it secure as he follows you back to your station. 

“Leigh, the woman leaving when you came in? She has lots of clients like that. A lot of people weren’t taught how to take care of their curly hair.”

“Is that a hint?” Carmen quips. It makes you snort. 

“Just a gentle one.”

Carmy watches while you cut his hair. Every once in a while your tongue will poke out, or you’ll wiggle your hips to a song on the radio. When you’re almost finished, what Carmen thinks is a Madonna song comes on. 

You start humming, and Carmy knows he’s done for. Richie would call him whipped. He probably will tomorrow morning, just by reading Carm’s face. 

“Out of the sky, I close my eyes…heaven help me.”

Carmy lets out a little laugh because you’re doing this little dance as you sift through his curls. You hear it, and it only encourages you more. 

“Big Madonna fan?” he asks, his hand rubbing over his mouth to hide the boyish grin there. The tattoo on his hand catches your eye. 

“She’s good for the soul.”

You crouch in front of him, rummaging through a cabinet for he doesn’t know what. “Your tattoos are pretty, by the way,” you say. It takes him by surprise. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

You emerge with two bottles. “Do people not usually compliment them?” You spray his hair down with cool water, getting it to the stage of damp you need for the products to work. 

Carmy laughs lowly. Maybe with a little hint of embarrassment. “Nah, they usually ask me what the hell they are or if I was drunk when I got ‘em.”

“Were you?”

He meets your playful gaze. “Only for a few.” Your smile is downright gleeful. 

“M’kay, Carm. Let me give you the rundown.” He straightens and you get a glimpse of the chef he left at The Bear to visit you today. “So this is a leave-in conditioner. After you shower, you put just a little of this in your hands—like this—and kinda run it through your hair all over. Just so it’s in there well.”

You demonstrate, and for the first time, Carmy finally understands how people can look at him and question his ability to cook so seamlessly. That’s the way you do hair. Like it’s as easy as breathing for you. 

“And this is a gel. It’s super lightweight, so it won’t feel gross or anything, and it’s not expensive either. You wanna use a little more of this, but not by much. You can do the same sort of thing, because your hair takes shape really easily since it’s not damaged any. And once that’s distributed, I want you to scrunch it some, just to get any excess product, but also to help any curls that need encouragement.”

You bite your lip because Carmy is nodding along, giving you his complete attention and it’s fucking adorable. 

“And if there’s any curls by your face or anything, you can use your fingers to define them so they look how you want. You think you can do all that?”

Carmy laughs. “Not a chance.” Then you’re both laughing, and it feels so comfortable anyone would think you’d known each other for years. 

“It takes practice. I’m gonna give you these to take home and use.” Your hand disappears in your back pocket for just a moment. “But if you want to put your number in my phone, I can always send you instructions if you need help…”

Carmy pauses. Freezes, even. You look at him nervously, afraid that maybe your ability to read the room has evaporated. Luckily, he proves you wrong. 

“Wow. That was smooth.”

You exhale and laugh into the back of your hand. “I’m never that smooth, I don’t know how I managed that,” you chuckle. Carmy’s fingers fly over your keyboard. 

“Thank you for today, really. I usually avoid the hairdresser at all costs.”

“Sugar did tell me that,” you grin. 

“M-maybe I could make you dinner or something, for putting up with me…?”

Your face warms. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Carmy blinks. His phone goes off where you’ve shot him a text with just your name and a smiley face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, cool. Alright, yeah. What do you like?”

“I wouldn’t say no to pasta. Pasta is good in all forms.”

————

“You can tell me if you hate it. I won’t be offended.”

“I think you might have a nervous breakdown though, and you’re too pretty for that.”

Carmy blushes, shaking his head at you. 

“What?” you laugh. “It’s true.” Your voice has a sing-song lilt to it. Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to know Carmy a bit better. He’s been busy though, so it’s taken longer than expected to have dinner together. 

He made up for it by providing you with pasta and cheesecake for dessert. He’s wearing this thick sweater, your eyes locking on his forearms where he’s rolled up the sleeves. 

Sugar was so excited when you texted her after his hair appointment. 

Natalie B: How’d it go? Was he a total pain in the ass?

You: it went well! got him all sorted out. he offered me dinner as a thank you (after he paid, of course). would that weird you out??

Natalie B: OMG NO!! He’s got such a giant stick up his ass, maybe your charm pulled it out! Go have fun. Leigh was telling me you hadn’t been on a date in forever last time I was in anyhow.

You: brb blocking both of you shitheads ♥️

You hadn’t expected a haircut to lead to any of this, but sitting here, in Carmy’s sparsely furnished apartment, looking at the soft smile on his face and the nervous way he’s fussing with his fingers as you eat the dinner he made you, you’re grateful.

Not that you’ll tell Natalie that. Or Leigh. They don’t need that ego boost. 

You wipe your mouth on a napkin and look up to see that Carmy is gazing at you expectantly. You laugh, his eye contact making you a little nervous. 

“It’s good, Carm. Really good. You can eat.”

He swipes his hand down his face, but when it comes down to grab his fork, he lets you see his smile. “I’m glad you like it. Not too much parsley or anything? I didn’t add lemon because Sugar mentioned you saying you didn’t like pasta with too much lemon juice in it.”

Your mouth drops open. That’s such a small, easy to forget thing. Maybe you will have to give Nat a hug. 

You reach out to touch his hand. Tentatively, just in case it’s too far. “That’s so sweet, Carmy. It’s perfect, really. And honestly the lemon thing is from one very overpowering pasta experience. Maybe whatever you make me will be better.”

Carmen takes a big bite of pasta and a swig of beer so he has time to collect himself. “Maybe we can fix your lemon-related trauma.”

“As long as there’s a backup snack in case the lemon PTSD can’t be fixed.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of dinner goes by, filled with conversation about everything and nothing—Carmy’s lack of knowledge about current television, your love of reading and need for someone to share the plots with. 

Carmen is making you a plate to take home with you when he’s finally psyched himself up to ask his question. He says your name and you peer at him from your spot against the counter. 

“I-uh…I’ve been trying to do my hair the way you taught me, but I can’t get it right. I was wonderin’ if you’d show me? Maybe? You don’t have to—”

“Of course I can. All you had to do was ask.” You push off the counter and beam at him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

You’re lucky you already learned the way to his bathroom so that your streak of confidence would continue working so well. And when you squeeze out some of the hair gel into Carmy’s hands, you know he just needed an excuse. He’s got it down pat. 

He runs his hands through his hair, scrunching clumps together every now and then, finger-curling the pieces up front and by his ears. Now you’re just waiting to see what he really wanted to say. 

You cross your arms, attempting to look serious, but you can’t hold back the grin spreading across your face. 

Carmen looks over at you, drying his hands now that they’re free of product. He’s never been great at reading people, but that look in your eye tells him he’s a shit actor. 

“So, that didn’t fool you, huh?”

You giggle. “Not at all, Berzatto. You couldn’t even fake how well you’ve learned to do your hair.”

Carmy takes a step closer to you, rubbing his nose self-consciously. “I’m very bad at saying what I’m thinking. Or saying what I want.”

“I can see that.”

He squints at you, his lips ticking up just slightly. 

“So what is it you want but are too scared to say?” you start. “Do we need to play hangman?” 

That would normally get a laugh out of him, but he’s too on edge. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, just fucking say it, Carm. 

“I wanna kiss you.”

Your ears burn. You release your bottom lip from where it was pinned between your teeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Please do.”

You push up on your tiptoes, suddenly bursting with excitement and hoping that’ll convey to Carmen that he doesn’t need to be nervous because you want this just as bad. 

It works. 

You put your hands on Carmy’s collarbones the second his fingers slip into your hair. Your nervous system lights on fire, thoughts of how much surface area his palms cover racing through your mind. He kisses you all shy and hesitant at first, like he’s nervous he won’t do what you’re hoping. 

His lips are warm, and you can feel the spots where he’s chewed them raw. You can’t help but think that kissing him might be a good way to break that habit. His nose presses into your cheek, tickling you and making you giggle.

Carmen pulls away, smiling at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Your nose was tickilin’ my cheek.”

“Oh? Like this?” He starts dragging his nose across your face and then down to your neck when he feels you start to laugh harder. He thinks he’s finally cracked the code. It seems like pasta and nose tickles are the proper way into your heart. 

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner from @steph-speaks

[sweetsbelcva]

Can’t fix me | Michael Berzatto x Reader

⟡ You struggle with internal emotions in your relationship. The truth comes to the surface as he notices the change that he dread it was coming.

— fem!reader. Age gap, Reader’s nickname is Bug and is in her early 20s (no body/appearance descriptions), and Michael is in his early 40s. Mentions of nausea and heavy emotions. hurt— no comfort, sorry.

— masterlist

A/n: I wanted to navigate a reader who has been dealing with the feelings of growing up and finding stability in herself. I have more ideas if you'd like me to continue but this barely scratches the surface.

You open the door to a sleepy Michael, having looked for him at The Bear and Donna’s already. You were worried he had been drinking late at night alone but luckily found him at his house. It's your day off, you stopped by Annie’s to get some croissants, black coffee, and a cappuccino for yourself.

"Morning, bear," you say, almost in a whisper. You were always walking on eggshells with him, not wanting to irritate him when he just woke up. It was noon, he had just gotten out of bed and that meant he was drinking late at night but at home.

He steps into the living room, hearing the soft term on endearment that calls to him like a siren singing. Your soft, familiar voice echoes through the room. He sees your eyes, that frown on your face, and the pout on your lips as he lifts his head, it shakes now from side to side.

"Don't look at me like that" he grunts, rubbing his eyes with his fist to wake up. "Just don't-" Mikey avoids staring at you, knowing well he’d get lost on your beauty and that would make him distracted. That he can't have a day without letting you into his heart and putting the same wall between you, again.

You worry, of course you do. The dark circles around his eyes, his lip almost torn apart from chewing at it.

"I got you some breakfast" your sweet voice always seems to perk his interest, cutting any tension between you.

You place the bag of goodies onto the table and sit down. He does the same, you two are only centimeters apart now— physically, the complete opposite thing emotionally.

"Got you a black coffee, croissants and if you want I can make us an omelet"

Usually, the only two things in his stomach are coffee and whatever he could find at The Bear. Pieces of meat, some bread, a piece of chocolate cake— never a full meal.

"Thank you, bug" You see his lip quirked up slightly, the thought of you knowing exactly what he needs without hesitation. "Really" he shoots you a smile, and you do too.

"Of course, bear"

The nickname makes his heart race, he takes a bite of the pastry and a sip of his coffee. His eyes feel less heavy each time his throat gets warm. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

"Didn't you already eat? It's late" he asks around his bites, eyes flickering over to your breakfast.

"No, I wasn't hungry. I was kind of nauseous in the morning" you reply, taking a sip of your cappuccino. You thank the odds it was your day off and could have more time in bed until then nausea went away.

Mikey furrows his brows at your response, he'd been so caught up in his loneliness he didn't realize how you'd been doing. He didn't even ask how you'd been feeling.

He stops mid-bite, his hand hesitating to reach out for your thigh under the table and squeeze it to give you comfort. He stared at you, trying to hide the concern in his gaze so you stay calm.

"Why?"

"I'm not sure, its the third time it has happened and I'm sure it’s stress"

His brows knit in a frown, now tilting his head looking for your gaze. You are avoiding him— his heart races.

"Stress?" he repeats, placing the cup down on the table and shifting his chair to face you properly without having to crack his neck. He placed his hand on the back of your chair, the action full of innocence as he got closer. "Why are you so stressed, princess?" he asks, his brows still knitted in a frown.

"You know, school, work and I have deadlines on both" you sigh. Saying all of it with all the calm in the world, he can't believe it. You were just panicking a few days ago for a test and now you’re this calm?

"And me" his words slip out before he could think about it. He noticed you'd gotten slightly distant from him these past few days. He wouldn't be surprised if he was the source of your pain. He felt the pang of guilt in his heart.

"I never said that"

"You didn't have to" he grumbled. "Its not that hard to figure i’m one of your problems, bug"

You shift in your place, his hand on the back of the chair now close to touch your arm. You look at him in disbelief, your eyes parted and the way your breath hitches on your throat makes the nausea come back again.

"I didn't even thought about it, you’re rushing in for a fight and I'm not granting you that wish" you defend yourself, not letting him bring you down the quiet peaceful moment you were having.

He was taken aback at how blunt you were, it made him go silent for a few seconds. He stares at you, watching the signs of anger on your face.

"I'm not trying to fight"

A scoff leaves your lips, your shoulders tightening. "Then why are you jumping to conclusions then?" your eyes piercing his gaze.

Then he sees it, really sees it. You’ve changed. All these days of distance made sense because whatever happened in your brain, something clicked and you’re not the same person he met. You’ve grown.

You’re not picking at his fights, you’re not pouting for a kiss. You noticed he didn't give you the welcome you deserved so you didn't try to do so. You’re not the same giggly girl who would do anything he says, being surprised and amazed by the little things he did.

And it hurts, it really fucking hurts. Because in any given moment you’ll realize he’s just a headcase and its not worth your time.

"Bear?" you call him.

You still have that sweet voice, but you’ve changed.

"I don't know" he muttered, he knew why but he wasn't going to admit it— no, he was too embarrassed for that.

"I never said you were the reason, you’re just twisting everything I say" You get up from your seat. "You always do!"

He felt his shoulders slump as he follows your every movement. You are putting back your coat and your beanie, your boots too. Mikey takes a deep breath but doesn't move, exhausted of causing you too many problems and stress.

"I just feel like I’ve been in my own world…" he trails off, his eyes now trained on the floor next to your shoes. "I feel like… I've been too much"

"Yes, you’ve been mean and grumpy" the anger on which the words came out of your mouth surprises you. But you were tired, so tired of his baggage.

"I've been having a hard time... If you can't handle it then maybe you should leave already" he winced at your observation. He knew it was true, but the stubborn side of him didn't want to admit it. "I'm causing you more problems than you already have and you’re still here? What do you want from me? You can't fix me"

He’s said it a million times, but it somehow felt different. More real, more painful.

You huff, taking your bag and your keys. Mikey stares at his hands and closes his eyes as the door is shut.

You keep walking to your car, the tears strolling down your face. You sit there for what feels like minutes until you decide its time to go home. You glance at Mikey’s house for the last time before turning on the ignition.

Maybe this is right, it's what you need. Its not meant to be if it makes you so sad and heartbroken, right? The man already said it, you can't fix him.

⟡ If you like it please reblog and comment. If you want more you can request!

⟡ Dividers: cafekitsune. Gif darlingshane

[diorsdahlia]

BUSINESS PARTNERS ! — luke castellan

snapshots between reader and luke, set before sea of monsters. reader is helping him with life outside of camp. gender neutral reader! word count: 1.4k

cw: not really suggestive but some subtext, mentions of suicide (of a dog💔)

authors note : im bad at chess but so is luke so its fine. also funfact canis minor is also known as prokyon!

"so how do you know this guy again?" luke repeated for the third time as you adjusted his suit. the three-piece suit was perfectly tailored to him (by your demand) yet he wore it like it wasn't.

"i told you already," you sighed, "i know a guy who knows a guy who knows this guy."

"you know a lot of guys." he raised an eyebrow.

"shut up." you sighed, deliberately making a move to step away from him.

ten minutes until your meeting starts and you have no idea how to survive luke castellan. you catch him fumbling with the cufflinks on his sleeves in your peripheral vision. with a deep breath, you stop yourself from swatting his hand and gently pulled his arm away.

"what? its not my fault the sleeves are too tight–"

"it's not too tight, it's supposed fit like that." you glared at him, "and now stop fussing around like a child."

"fine, fine." he sighed theatrically.

it would be so easy to make a jab at him—maybe the way he reaches to fidget with his rings only to find his fingers bare, or the way his oxford shoe clicked nervously against the floor, maybe even the way you had to tie his tie for him— but you dont. luke's life never offered him any of the opportunities that you have, it would be plain unfair to poke fun of him for something out of his control. plus, you dont want to sound like an elitist snob.

however, your train of thought came to a halt once the glass door opened and a red-haired woman peeked out, she reminds you of donna from the show suits.

"mr. townsend is ready for you," she said so casually yet still professional. you muttered an 'okay' and flashed her a small smile in response, making the first move to walk towards the room. you swore you saw luke's adam's apple bobbed as he averted his gaze away from the secretary. something about that made your chest tighten and the need to disappear into a puddle even stronger.

quickly gathering your composure, you sat across mr. townsend as luke introduced himself to the man, another chance at a possible alliance.

                    ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻☾༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

luke was rearranging the chest pieces while you lounged on the couch, legs on the armrest, one hand on the tv remote. he's been crashing at your apartment ever since he left camp, you didnt mind his company. after all, he's been holed up in that camp for five years—with the exception of his quest— and eventhough the boy adapts quickly, it wouldn't feel right if you let him wander the streets of the upper east side on his own.

"so how many guys do you know?" he asked.

"what are you talking about now?" you chuckled, looking back to him and the chess board. he tries to be cheeky—even though he only started learning chess a few weeks ago— and moves his pawn to G4, exposing his bishop.

his eyes narrowed as he watched you move your pawn to the centre like every other game. "i meant your business associates. how many 'guys' do you know?"

"im sorry i cannot give you a number," you drawled out, finding it difficult to take him 100% seriously.

"so, a lot of guys?" he said, eyes fixed on you, the chess game momentarily forgotten.

"it's purely business, what's wrong with you?" you chuckled in disbelief, observing him as he observed the chess pieces.

"nothing. just wondering, you know? since we are business partners, business associates, whatever you wanna call it." he shrugged. "just wondering if they get the same treatment." his voice lowered at that last comment knowing you would glare at him. you did just that yet you offered no verbal retort.

you couldn't blame him for reading too deeply into the actions between you both, for seeing something you didnt. the lines of boundaries were astronomically blurred between you two. sharing a bed, his socks in your laundry hamper, your hands tugging on his hair, the patterns on his bare back formed by your lace curtains whenever he slept in. still, you didn't address it.

he moves his pawn to F3. he doesn't see it but you do, the way his king is left unguarded. you moved your queen to F4, grinning as his eyebrows slowly scrunched up in realisation. "checkmate."

"losing in two moves, that's talent," you grinned, receiving an eye roll from him. he sighs while rearranging the pieces, unable to back down from a challenge.

"again?"

                      ‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻☾༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙

  you and luke were wandering the docks late past midnight, not an unusual occurrence in your routine. you prayed no security guard would catch the two of you; silently only because you didn't know how luke would react if he heard you praying. his attention was elsewhere anyways but you didn't want to take the risk. he stared at the various yachts and ships while you opted to strain your neck for the constellations above.

"which one is your favourite?" luke asked, you didnt notice he joined you but no complaints came to mind.

"orion. he's really easy for me to find." your gaze flicked to luke's face before focusing back on the sky. "yours?"

"canis minor. i've always liked dogs." he allowed himself to smile at that.

you smiled too, "really? what's your favourite breed?"

"don't have one.. im not picky. any dog that's loyal is good enough for me, plus, they're all cute." he shrugged before looking back to the ships.

"cute and loyal, got it." you said, watching him before asking the question that has beenn plaguing your mind for weeks now. "why do you want a cruise ship so bad?"

"i keep seeing it in my dreams." he said in a tone you weren't sure was joking or serious.

you titled your head to see more of his expression, unsure if this warrants a laugh or not. "if you're serious, that is really really unsettling. major oracle or seer vibes."

his jaw visibly sets and he shakes his head dismissively. "don't call me that again."

"alright, im sorry." you apologised, foolishly hoping the tension in the air would magically dissipate at those three words. "so.. why not canis major?"

"what?" luke asked, his eyes looking you up and down.

"i mean— you said you like canis minor the most. why not canis major? why choose the *lesser* dog?" you said, meeting his gaze for a second.

"the story behind it sticks out to me the most. in some versions, it represents maera, the dog of icarius," luke explained, his eyes fixed on the ocean waves. "when icarius died, the dog and his daughter took their lives next to icarius.

there was a moment of silence as you took in the story. damn you didn't remember that part from the greek mythology lessons.

"thats...dark. isnt icarius the guy dionysus taught how to make wine?" you asked, not really knowing how to lead off that explanation.

"yeah, he was," luke nodded. "dionysus was really mad. i think he brought on a drought on the land and made people crazy."

"woah.. that's mr. D, like the mr. D who wears hawaiian shirts." you mused albeit quietly. "that's gonna trip me out."

"you know she jumped into a well and died." luke added after a moment of silence.

"who jumped into a well and died?" you turned to look at him again, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"the dog, maera did."

"oh, that's sad." your voice took on a softer tone. "so, you really value loyalty then?"

"yeah, you can say that." luke nodded, now dipping his toes into the water.

"if you had to choose between honesty and loyalty, which one would you choose?" you asked, now sitting criss cross apple sauce on the docks.

"honesty wouldn't exist without loyalty." luke answered, eyes trained on the water.

"have you ever lied to me?"

it was silent for a few seconds before luke shook his head, "no, i haven't."

"seriously?"

"seriously." luke affirms, and for just a second, your eyes meet in a way that makes your stomach do a little flutter.

"loyal to me or the cause?" you pressed further, asking questions you've never had the guts to ask.

"they're the same." luke answered, his tone as if he fully believes that and maybe he does, you don't really know. what you do know is the butterflies dissappeared as soon as they appeared.

[sapphicandgraphic]

Crash

Summary: An accident pulls you and Melissa further into each other’s orbit.

Chapter: 3/4

The meeting passed in a blur. Melissa had a hard time following the agenda. She bounced her knee nervously until Barb laid a gentle hand on her thigh and she stilled. As soon as it was acceptable to leave, Melissa was up like a shot.

“Where are you going now?” Jacob asked. The redhead paused in the doorway, turning to fix him with a glare.

“Who’s askin’?”

“I was just wondering…” Jacob gulped, eyes darting around the table. “Does this have anything to do with a certain school psychologist?”

As soon as he mentioned you, Melissa’s gaze softened.

“Gregory shared that she wasn’t feeling well,” Barbara added. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Not feelin’ well,” Melissa laughed darkly, rocking back on her heels.

“I was trying to respect her privacy,” Gregory explained. “But that’s probably an understatement.”

Barabra’s eyebrows knitted together in alarm. “Why an understatement? What happened?”

Melissa opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, not trusting herself to speak. Gregory chimed in. “Car accident. She’s a little banged up.”

“Someone ran her off the road,” Melissa corrected. “And when I find out who it was, they’re gonna wish they’d never been born.”

Cries of outrage and concern rose up around the table, warming her Sicilian heart. “Has she seen a doctor?” Jacob demanded, already halfway out of his seat.

Melissa held up a hand. “Paramedics treated her at the scene. She has some broken ribs, a bunch of cuts and bruises—“

“And a concussion,” Gregory reminded her. At Melissa’s dumbfounded expression, he muttered, “Am I really the only one that took health class? Her pupils were dilated, she’s got a headache—“

“She’s sensitive to light,” Melissa breathed, awareness dawning on her features. “Oh Jesus, I left her alone in her office, what if she falls asleep?”

“That’s actually a myth,” Gregory supplied. “Sleep is an important part of the healing process after head trauma.”

“Oh, really?” Melissa spat. “Where’d ya get your medical degree, Web MD?”

Barbara walked over quickly and laid a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Hey, is Nurse Donna in today?” Janine asked, redirecting the conversation before Melissa could eviscerate her boyfriend. “Maybe she can stop by and —“

“That’s an excellent idea, Janine,” Barbara said, and the younger teacher beamed. “Check the infirmary. Jacob, why don’t you walk over —“

“Run over,” Melissa interjected.

“—and inform her of the situation.”

Jacob, practically vibrating with nervous energy, sprang from his chair and sprinted out of the room. Barbara squeezed the redhead’s hand, giving her a significant look. “Go. We’ve got this.”

She smiled sheepishly, mumbling a word of thanks. Then she was off again, hurrying back down the long hallway and up the stairs that led to your office. She was kicking herself for not noticing what had been so obvious to Gregory. Melissa had seen your helmet, after all. Just the memory of it made her queasy.

As she chastised herself, the image of your bloody t-shirt flashed in her mind again and she felt a cold spike of fury. Tonight she’d make some calls to her cousin. He had a friend that worked in the DMV. If the cops didn’t find the driver that ran you off the road, she would.

Melissa took a moment to rein in the twin tendrils of rage and vengeance crackling beneath her skin before stepping across the threshold of your office. She was relieved to see that almost everything was exactly as she’d left it. The only difference was that you had changed position, reclining fully on the small sofa. With a terrible stab of fondness, she noticed you had kicked your boots off and your feet (wearing mismatched wool socks) dangled over the edge of the low armrest.

She placed her hands on her hips and looked down at you for a moment, allowing herself to enjoy the sweetness of your face, soft and unguarded in sleep. You looked impossibly young.

The sight was somehow more intimate than seeing you shirtless and vulnerable in the bathroom, more intimate than touching your bare skin with her hands. She had the urge to gather you up in her arms, tuck you into bed, protect you from the fraught, perilous outside world. And it was in this moment, breath hitching in her throat, warmth flooding her chest, that the awful truth finally dawned on Melissa. She had fallen for you. Shit.

As quickly as the realization gripped her, she pushed it away. There would be time to work through these inconvenient emotions later, preferably with a bottle of wine and a few Nicholas Sparks movies (a course of treatment you might have some professional objections to, but hey, Melissa was a creature of habit when it came to heartbreak.)

She crouched down beside you and gave you a gentle shake.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispered. “Can you wake up for me?”

Your features remained slack, as if she hadn’t spoken. Melissa frowned, saying your name a few times. You didn’t move. She raised a hand to your face, gently tapping your cheek. Still nothing.

A soft knock interrupted her rising panic. Nurse Donna stood in the doorway, carrying a small medical bag. Her kind face was schooled into a comforting expression as she surveyed the scene, wire rimmed glasses perched on the edge of her nose. Jacob hovered in the background, hands clasped together.

“I heard there was an accident?” Nurse Donna prompted.

The nurse was a fixture at Abbott. Her neat gray bun and no-nonsense demeanor had weathered many a medical emergency over the decades—broken bones, fevers, asthma attacks, allergic reactions. Melissa stood up and cleared her throat roughly, but her voice still cracked when she spoke.

“She ain’t wakin’ up, Donna.”

The older woman nodded calmly, stepping forward and taking control of the situation. She leaned over your prone form on the couch and placed a hand on your forehead, slowly lifting the lid of one eye and then the other, shining a penlight into your pupils. A few tense moments later you recoiled as if from a slap.

“There she is,” Nurse Donna crowed happily, reaching into her bag to retrieve a stethoscope and a blood pressure cuff.

Melissa sagged against the edge of your desk, relief spreading like a sweet antidote to the malignant venom of fear. Jacob entered the room and stood beside her. He didn’t say anything, but she appreciated his solid, warm presence flush against her side.

“M’lissa?” you slurred.

“I’m right here,” she answered, peering around the nurse to get in your line of sight.

“Had a funny dream.” Your voice was thick with confusion.

“Has she taken any medication?” Nurse Donna asked, affixing the cuff to your arm.

“Some Tylenol,” Melissa said. She plucked the bottle from the table and deposited it into the nurse’s outstretched hand. Donna gave it a cursory glance before continuing with her ministrations.

“Blood pressure is normal,” she reported. Next she listened to your heartbeat, carefully maneuvering the chest piece around to your shoulders, sternum, and lungs. Finally, she lifted your shirt high enough to inspect your ribs. Jacob gasped softly. Bright red blood had soaked through the gauze in several places. She pulled the bandage back, examining the large abrasions and purple bruises thoughtfully.

“Ouch,” she said.

Reaching back into her bag, she withdrew some antiseptic ointment and gently cleaned the wounds before applying a fresh dressing. Then, giving you one last affectionate pat on the cheek, she stood up and exited your office. Melissa and Jacob followed her out into the hallway.

“She does appear to have a slight concussion,” Donna confirmed. “But that’s not the reason she can’t wake up.”

She raised the bottle of pills and gave it a shake.

“Tylenol PM,” Jacob read, eyes widening.

“Combined with the general stress that tends to accompany blunt force trauma, I’d say these little guys are what’s making her so sluggish.”

Melissa closed her eyes. A calm hand landed on her shoulder.

“An honest mistake,” Nurse Donna soothed. “And, in hindsight, perhaps serendipitous! She needs rest, and I bet she’s not the type who goes down without a fight.”

Jacob laughed, nodding his head and jerking a thumb toward Melissa. “The only person more stubborn is —“

The redhead quirked an eyebrow at him, daring him to finish that sentence, but Jacob seemed to become suddenly fascinated by something on the floor and trailed off. Nurse Donna continued her report.

“My advice? Let her sleep it off. She should be more alert in a few hours. As for the rest of her injuries, there’s no quick fix. Ribs will heal on their own in a month or so. Ice will help the pain, but she won’t be doing any heavy lifting for a while. And she should keep the abrasions clean to avoid infection.”

Jacob looked at the redhead, relief plain on his face. “That’s good news, right?”

Melissa nodded. Though part of her still wanted to march down to the hospital and find the paramedics that had treated you. She had a few questions to ask them—like what the hell were they thinking, releasing you with a concussion? She hoped for their sake she never met them in a dark alleyway.

“I’d recommend someone sit with her, she might be disoriented when she wakes up,” Nurse Donna said. “Other than that, if you have any questions, just give me a ring!”

Then, with another comforting squeeze to Melissa’s shoulder and a little wave, she headed back to the infirmary.

“I can bring anything you need from your classroom,” Jacob offered.

Melissa shot him a grateful look. “Thanks, hon,” she said. “I owe ya.”

For a few hours, Melissa worked quietly at your desk. Every so often she would pause and watch the gentle rise and fall of your chest, but overall it was a blissfully uneventful way to pass the time after such a frantic and frightening start to the day. With every minute, she felt the tight coil of anxiety unwinding in her body. She was making good progress on a stack of ungraded tests, thought she might even get her marking done before lunch.

But then you whimpered.

It was a sound not of confusion or pain but something longing, needy. You shifted on the sofa, and made another breathy, keening noise in the back of your throat. Melissa’s mind went blank. The entire world seemed to shrink to your flushed face, your pink lips parted in a sigh of pleasure.

Melissa felt a flash of guilt for witnessing such a private moment, but it was eclipsed by curiosity—what (and who) were you dreaming about?

She knew that the breakup with your ex at the start of the summer had been messy. That you’d fallen back into bed with each other several times before you finally called it quits. And that since then, you’d spent a few nights with different people. It was these casual, faceless hookups that drove Melissa to distraction. Were you picturing some fast fuck in a dive bar bathroom? Reliving a night in a stranger’s apartment, being spread open by some other woman’s hands? The thought made her head foggy with lust, with outrage, with jealousy.

And then you clearly said one word.

“Melissaaaaaaa,” you whined softly.

The lead point of the pencil in her hand snapped, rolling away uselessly across the page she’d been marking. She looked down briefly, then back up to your supine form on the sofa. Your eyes fluttered open.

“Hi,” Melissa said, her voice hoarse. “Good dream?”

“You should know.” You licked your lips. “You were there.”

The confession was laced with none of your usual playful swagger. You were seized by the surreal sleepy clarity of desire, your entire body throbbed with it. She stood up and walked toward you on unsteady legs. Your eyes, bright and glassy, never left her face.

“How do ya feel?” she asked.

“Tired,” you said with a frown. “Like I can’t keep my eyes open.”

You shifted, making space for her on the sofa. She sat down and leaned against you, seeking out your fingers with her own and tangling them together absently. She explained the mix-up with the pain pills and you huffed in disbelief, a teasing smirk edging at the corners of your mouth.

“So you drugged me.”

Melissa squeezed her eyes shut. “Don’t be a brat.”

“You bring it out in me,” you insisted quietly, playing with the edge of her denim shirt. Then, still possessed by the fading memory of dream Melissa, you slipped your hand under the fabric, fingertips dancing along the curve of her bare hip. Your breath caught at her warmth, her softness.

“You’re delirious,” she said, looking down at you in wonder. You were close enough you could see the pulse flickering madly in her throat.

“Feels like I’m still dreaming,” you said, voice little more than a whisper.

“Go back to sleep, hon.”

You protested, but your eyes were already drifting closed. Melissa waited until she was sure you were out again then placed a kiss on your forehead. With great reluctance, she returned to your desk, ignoring the electric hum of affection and arousal stampeding through her body.

Slowly the rest of the day slipped away. When the sky outside began to deepen toward late afternoon, Barbara came to check on you both. She stood in the doorway for a few moments before Melissa noticed her. The redhead looked quite beautiful in the soft halo of lamplight. Her hair fell in a curtain over one shoulder. Every so often, her eyes darted toward your sleeping form. Barbara wondered what revelations the day had bestowed upon her stubborn friend, and what, if anything, would come from them?

She cleared her throat to announce her presence and pulled a chair up next to you on the sofa.

“How’s the patient?” she asked, running her hand over your forehead tenderly. You nuzzled toward her touch, but didn’t wake up.

Melissa leaned back from the desk and stretched, smiling as Barbara proceeded to brush hair out of your face and straighten the blanket draped across your chest, her mama bear instincts on auto-pilot.

“According to Donna, she’ll live.”

“Praise the Lord,” Barbara murmured.

Melissa hummed in agreement. “Wanna give me a hand? I’m gonna drive her home. She don’t look too comfortable on that little couch.”

Barbara helped Melissa pack up her things and together they roused you, walked you to the parking lot, and situated you in the passenger seat of her car. You thanked Barbara, still a little groggy, as she helped you buckle up. You were too tired to be embarrassed.

“Get some rest, dear,” she said, closing the door carefully. Then she turned to her friend. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”

Melissa nodded, looking away. “Yeah, Donna said she shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

Ok, maybe that was bending the truth a bit. But the fact remained you had a concussion, and you lived alone. Melissa couldn’t stomach the idea of dropping you off to an empty apartment. What you needed was a home-cooked meal, a warm bath, and someone to make sure you behaved. Her stomach flipped pleasantly at that last part.

Barbara didn’t press, just gave Melissa a long look before she spoke.

“Make sure you take care of yourself too,” she said, running a gentle hand up and down her friend’s arm. “You don’t always have to be so strong.”

She turned and walked to her own car.

“And call me if you need anything,” she added over her shoulder.

Then she drove away, leaving Melissa standing in the cold afternoon light.

Chapter 4

[chefkids]

do you think it's signficant that ayo (& maybe lionel) wrote the whole "so you have a crush" / "not a crush" dialogue in "worms"? like, why would she even include that? if ayo hates sydcarmy so much why would she fan the flames like that??

Sydney does not have a crush on Carmy.

Claire has a crush on Carmy.

Their relationship is a brief and intense infatuation. It's immature and in many ways feels unattainable to both of them because they could never have it when they were younger.

Carmy was not even certain he loved her right before accidentally breaking up with her. The whole relationship is fleeting and based mostly on nostalgia and family pressure and guilt rather than any real emotional bond that they have ever had.

We are constantly told how long they've known each other but they barely have any real conversations about his issues and she constantly just tries to joke past them. The only thing we hear about is anecdotes about Mikey or Richie or Fak. She was never even actually there for him or his family when all that horrible shit happened. She wasn't at the funeral, she never reached out to him. Obviously they care about each other, but she only keeps coming back to try and date him to fulfill a fantasy they both have. He starts to open up to her because she tells him if he does their relationship will get better, but there's really nothing to it because neither actually wants to dive deeper, they are just going through the motions. She just wants him to hurry up and move past all of it.

That is why it feels so flat when they tell each other that they love each other. There is nothing to substantiate it and he is just literally repeating to her what she wants to hear and what she tells him to do because he thinks it will fix him and it's the easiest thing to do even though being with her is hard. There is nothing selfless about their relationship.

It was/is selfish on both their parts. Claire wants him to be her boyfriend more than she actually wants to be his friend and just support him. He gave clear signs that he didn't want to or wasn't ready to date her with that fake number but she selfishly chose to ignore them. She put him in situations she knew he wasn't comfortable in, like that party, because she is the one that wanted to be there.

Carmy keeps going out with her because he feels like he owes it to Mikey and his family, but he also selfishly wants a distraction from the restaurant and his trauma and from Sydney. He is literally addicted to chaos and tries to get back with her as soon as things are getting good in his life. He is too scared to try to find his spark in cooking again, because every time he starts to get inspiration it is centered around Syd. So he keeps selfishly reaching back for Claire like he did after he made the polka dot dish and tried to call her. He says he wants to run right into his trauma but he was literally running away from his mother and running right back to Claire right until Syd gave him no choice but to see Donna.

Sydney and Carmy are way past the crush phase. They are literally devoting their lives to each other. They are planning their futures around each other and doing everything they can to make each other happy and reach their goals and make eachother better. They stick by each other selflessly even when they know it's not logical and know that it would make more sense for her to just go work somewhere else or for him to have told her no they're not going to try for a star. They are both literally willing to risk it all for each other.

Carmy pushed to have The Bear built and try for a star even when he knew it wasn't completely logical or obtainable or easy or enjoyable for him because he wanted Sydney to have it, because he genuinely loves her without having anyone hold it over his head or push him to do it. Sydney let him act like a psycho because she genuinely believes in him and still puts up with his bullshit and still wants him there even though it would probably be easier to not have him there because she loves him beyond just what he can do or give to her.

Carmy is removing himself from it because he does not want to ruin it for her or everyone else. They have chosen to let eachother into their lives beyond work and he wants to be there for her as a "friend" even though they are way past that at this point. Their connection is way beyond thinking they're cute and having a crush. They love each other for real and they do not even need to say the words for us to feel it.

[lipstickmarks]

Steven to the Rescue

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader Category: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff Warnings: none Content: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, kissing, making out in public, reader has a terrible horrible no good very bad week and steven is there for her, Steven’s love languages are acts of service and physical touch, reader getting princess treatment, reader is kinda corporate girlie coded, steven being smooth, steven can cook, steven might be slightly ooc bc he is my silly putty and i am bending him to my will

Steven loved his job. He loved going into work everyday to consume any and all things related to egyptology. It’s what makes him able to withstand the abuse from Donna– which is lessened now that he’s been promoted to tour guide and she technically isn’t his supervisor anymore. But today, he simply does not want to go. 

He’s been watching you pace around his kitchen nervously for the past five minutes, checking your phone, watch, and laptop in quick succession. It had been… a less than stellar week for you.

Firstly, your job has been stressing you out by offloading duties onto you that weren’t in your job description because someone else had quit unexpectedly. Then, there was an error with your bank and your paycheck wasn’t deposited so you had to wait an extra 3 days to pay your bills. On top of it all, your phone service provider was having some sort of nationwide glitch so you barely had any service. 

Not only did you have twice the workload but you weren’t getting any of your work emails on time. Plus, you had to be in constant contact with the bank to sort out their issue. It’s why you’d come over to Steven’s flat before work, to use his internet and hopefully get a better signal. Plus, you two wanted to see each other. 

Steven had made some cranberry muffins and vegan egg bites for the two of you but your plate remained untouched while you paced around, waiting for a bar. 

“Love,” Steven murmured, reaching out to grab your elbow. You looked up from the laptop you were cradling in your arms and Steven nearly sighed out loud at the sight of your eyes. Beautiful, but so so tired. The universe has been running his favorite person ragged and it hurt him to see you so downtrodden by life. “You really should eat something before work.” 

You sighed and sat down your devices, trading them for a muffin. Steven cracked a smile at how your demeanor visibly changed once you took a bite. You always swore Steven put some kind of happy elixir into his food because it never failed to bring your spirits up. You gobbled up one muffin and reached for another. 

“Thank you for breakfast.” 

Steven leaned over and kissed the side of your forehead. 

“You’re welcome, darling. Hate to see you so out of sorts.” 

With you finally eating, Steven finished getting dressed. He had to go into work earlier than you did so he let you stay and finish doing what you needed to do. Before he left, he wrapped his arms around you and gave you a soft kiss. 

“I’m off then, darling. You’ll be okay here?” 

You gave him a reassuring nod as you swallowed a bite. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna finish up in a little bit. I have a feeling today is going to be better.” 

Steven beamed at you. He kissed you once, twice, three times and he knew if we went for a fourth, he’d cave and stay home with you. 

“Right, I’d better get going before I lose my job again.” But Steven made no move to leave. He was staring at you with that dreamy look, the one that had been perpetually fixed on his face ever since you two started dating two months ago. Steven was the perfect boyfriend. Gentle, thoughtful, and he adored you so much. 

“Go,” You told him. “I’ll be fine, really.” 

Steven gave you one last squeeze before walking out the door. 

—----------

Steven was finishing up a tour with a school field trip and he was buzzing from how well it went. Usually, preteens were their own unique breed of nasty– making inappropriate noises, laughing obnoxiously, and just generally being awful but a boy and girl had been asking tons of insightful questions, spurring Steven on and letting him flex his breadth of knowledge. And if there was any snark, the teacher shut it down expeditiously so Steven could continue. 

It was probably the best tour he’d given since he started working there. 

Plus, earlier in the morning, the curator had pulled him aside and said they were looking for someone to give virtual tours that they could record and post online. If he got it, it would mean a pay bump and more benefits. 

Things were finally going his way!

The group was just starting to shuffle off for lunch when Steven spotted you, standing off to the side of the museum entrance. His whole face broke out into a grin and his heart skipped a beat, but that elation faded when he saw your eyes. 

You had been crying. 

As soon as everyone was gone, Steven crossed the room to you. You both reached for each other. His hands fell to your hips and you clutched his bicep. 

“Love, what’s happened?” 

You tried to smile but your eyes were bloodshot and puffy. You were holding back tears and you looked like you were on the precipice of a complete breakdown. Like if someone pricked you with a sewing needle, you’d pop. 

When you spoke, it came out small and broken. 

“I tried to call you but my phone—” Your voice died on the word and Steven’s grip tightened around you. 

“Darling?” 

“I came to ask for a favor. My apartment… they called me while I was at work. A pipe burst.” Your lip quivered. “All my stuff is ruined.” 

Steven’s eyes widened. 

“No.”

You nodded, fat tears spilling down your cheeks. 

“They said it’s gonna take three weeks to fix it.” You started wringing your hands nervously and took a steadying breath before you spoke again. “I was hoping I could stay with you.”

Steven’s answer is an immediate yes. 

“Absolutely, love. Anything you need.” 

He couldn’t stand it anymore and he pulled you into a tight hug. Your head fell lamely against his chest and he felt your tears soaking through his shirt but he didn’t mind. Not one bit. You peered up at him, face hot and flushed with tears.

“You’re sure it won’t be a problem? We haven’t been dating that long and I don’t want it to be…” You floundered, searching for the right word but Steven knew exactly what you meant. He caught your hand with his and brought it up to kiss the back of it. 

“It won’t be. It'll be like a slumber party, yeah? We’ll bake cookies and watch films. It’ll be fun.”

You nodded but Steven could tell you weren’t convinced. After the week you’d been having, what reason did you have to believe anything else was going to go right for you? You looked like you were a single moment away from shattering entirely. 

“Do you want to leave now? I can take the rest of the day off. I can find someone to cover my afternoon tours.” 

You shook your head and wiped your eyes.

“No. No, I have to go back to work. We have an important meeting.” You sniffed. Steven’s heart broke seeing you like this. You just looked so defeated. 

Steven thought hard for a moment. How could he make this better for you? How could he lighten your load? 

“How about this? I’ll pick you up after work. We’ll stop by your flat and get anything we need and then we’ll go back to mine, hm?” He brushed the falling hair out of your eyes. “We’ll get a takeaway, watch your favorite show, I’ll even let you braid my hair if you like.” 

You chuckled a bit. 

“Can we get dessert?” 

Steven kissed your forehead. 

“Anything you want, love.”

You nodded and a genuine smile returned to your face. 

“Alright, well I better get back. I’m on my lunch break and it’s gonna take me 15 minutes to get back across town.” 

Steven stopped you before you could leave.

“Darling, have you eaten lunch?” 

You looked sheepish when you shook your head. Steven wouldn’t be having that. Wordlessly, he laced your fingertips with his and lead you down to the employee lockers. He opened up his where the only contents were a book of Egyptology, his spare glasses, a Tawaret funko pop, his lunch box, and a picture of you taped to the inside. 

He pulled out his lunchbox and placed it in your arms.

“Steven, no.” You gasped. “I can’t take your lunch.” 

You took his lunch. 

No matter how much protesting you did, Steven insisted, waving off your concerns with a promise that he would get something from a food truck at lunch. He hailed a taxi for you before you could argue any further. 

“Steven, I don’t have cab fare.” You said with wide eyes as the taxi pulled up. “Remember? My bank–”

He pulled out his own wallet and handed the driver his bank card. 

“Can’t have my beautiful girlfriend going across town on public transport. Someone might steal you away from me.” 

You flushed. Your stomach was doing happy flips from feeling so taken care of. Steven took his card back from the driver and tucked it away. You were full on crying now as you wrapped your arms around him and weeped into his chest. 

“It’s alright, love.” He murmured in your ear. 

You pulled back to kiss him. It was eager and much too sloppy to do in broad daylight on the steps of his place of work but you couldn’t help yourself. 

“Thank you for going to all this trouble for me.” You mumbled as you pulled away. 

“It’s no trouble at all, love.” He opened up the cab food for you and didn’t shut it until you were inside. “I’ll pick you up at your office at the end of the day, okay?” 

You nodded and Steven leaned his head through the window to give you one last kiss. 

“Last chance to play hooky with me for the rest of the day?” 

You giggled and shook your head. 

“Tempting, but no. I’ve got to go be a grownup.” 

Steven smiled at you and mouthed a silent “okay.” He stepped back onto the curb and once the road was clear, your cab pulled out into the street. 

Once Steven was out of view, you opened up his lunchbox. He had a habit of overpacking in case he was stuck on the bus for a while and needed a snack, which came in handry because you were starving. You ate his sandwich, chips, soda, half a bag of grapes, and a cookie. 

At a red light, your driver turned back to you. 

“Your boyfriend is so sweet!” She swooned. 

“You don’t know the half of it.” You giggled. “This is his lunch.” 

She gasped.

“Shut up! That is so cute! Oh my gosh, you’re so lucky.” 

You grinned.

“Yeah. I am.” 

—-----------

The rest of the afternoon went painfully slow for you.Thankfully, you got so busy with work that you temporarily forgot you were broke, without a phone, and temporarily homeless. 

When it was finally time to go, you headed toward the front desk, intending to use the landline to call Steven but when you stepped into the hall, he was already there. You had to do a double take at first because you thought you might have been dreaming or seeing things. But no, this was real life. 

Steven Grant, your nerdy, sweet, perfect boyfriend was chatting to your office receptionist with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

“I never realized the museum was free! I always thought it cost money, that’s why I haven’t brought my kids.” The receptionist said, embroiled in a conversation with Steven. 

“Loads of people think that, actually but yeah it’s free entry. It only costs money for tours. Though, if you’re bringing your little ones, I can’t recommend the tours enough. You get loads of extra information that just reading the pamphlets won’t give you. Not to toot my own horn but I give a pretty educational tour if I do say so myself.” Steven said with a relaxed smile. Ever since he’d been promoted to tour guide, he’s been so much more sure of himself. He’s still the goofy, sweet, bumbling nerd he always has been but the constant exposure to his passion has cushioned him in a cozy little bubble of Egyptology, vegan baking, and you. How could he not feel content? 

“I think I’ll take them next weekend.” The receptionist said as you arrived at the desk. “I’d like a tour with you as well.” She looked up from scribbling the museum information on a Post-It note and saw you. “Oh, here you are, darling! Does this sweet man belong to you?” 

Just as she asked, Steven held out the bouquet to you. Red roses, pink tulips, white calla lilies, and some hydrangeas to fill it out. 

“He does.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. You took the bouquet from Steven and smelled the flowers. Steven gently pulled your purse strap off of your shoulder and took his lunch box out of your hands, holding them both and holding his free hand out for you. 

“Are you ready, love? The cab’s waiting.” 

Do not cry. Do not cry in your place of work. Do not cry because your boyfriend is being so sweet and you’ve never felt this cared for in your life. 

To avoid your voice coming out high and squeaky, you nodded and took his outstretched hand. Bidding goodbye to the receptionist, he led you out the doors and into the cab, leading you home. 

*****

It feels strange.

You’re not sure why. You’ve spent the night at Steven’s flat before, had dinner, read books, spent all night in his bed, but this felt different. 

You were standing in Steven’s bathroom, hair damp from your shower. The second you got back to his flat, you’d made a beeline to the shower, eager to scrub all of your misfortune off. And you felt so strange, so out of place. 

It was a little more intimate knowing that you’d be here for three entire weeks, which put a decent amount of pressure on a fairly new relationship. You and Steven would be seeing each other in undesirable states, have to give each other space, and somehow maintain the dynamic of your relationship despite these new circumstances. 

You unloaded the grocery bag of toiletries that you picked up from your flat on the way here. Thankfully your hygiene essentials and skincare weren’t damaged. The same couldn’t be said for your clothes, though. 

At least it was the weekend and you didn’t have to worry about outfits for work. You could just lounge around in the sweater and boxers Steven had given you, or nothing if you preferred. Steven certainly wouldn’t mind. 

“Love?” Steven’s voice came through the bathroom door. “The food just got here. I’ll queue up a movie for us.”

“Alright.” You called out. “Be out in a minute.”

“Take your time, darling.” 

What on Earth did you do to deserve that wonderful, wonderful man? 

After changing, you stepped out into the living room where Steven had arranged the takeout boxes, poured you a glass of wine, and queued up “Tangled” on the TV. 

“Steven…” You plopped down on the couch next to him. “We could’ve cooked, you didn’t have to order out for me. I don’t want you going to any trouble for me.” 

Steven looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes that only love could be the catalyst for. He took your chin between his fingers and angled your face to meet his lips in a sweet, slow kiss. 

“Darling, why would it be any trouble to care for you?” 

And just like that, as quickly as a match burns out, all of your anxieties and apprehension faded away. You didn’t feel out of place in Steven’s flat or mistreated by the universe. Here, in Steven’s arms, you only felt loved.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Can i ask for insecure reader x Donna?? Maybe before reader met Donna, the girls in the village teased her about her looks because they were jealous of her beauty. Reader can't believe that someone like Donna would like her. She notices that the reader cries every night and can't stand the sight of it so confronts reader.

Can it be a smut???

Yesss!!!! Thank you for request!!! I hope you like and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :))))

P.S: To the anon who made a question to me yesterday. I'm sorry, I deleted your question by mistake but I remember it so:

To the question "what does G!P mean?" Well, I know it's not well written, yk, maybe GP! (girl penis) sounds more familiar to you.

Idk why I always write it like this. I made a mistake once but I didn't fix it. I guess I like it that way, like my own style or smth. I hope I've solved you doubt, take care of yourself!!!

Beautiful?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, fluff, angst, hurt and comfort, hurtful mockery

Word count: 8,162

Summary: You've started to think they were always right about your ugliness

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Hey, (Y/N),” you heard.

Behind you, putting a hand on your shoulder, was a young man you knew, one who always smiled when he saw you.

“H-Hi, Ivan,” you said with a shy smile, turning around. “Aren't you with your friends?”

“Well, I saw you pass by and I was wondering if…” the boy said, scratching the back of his neck. “Um… Have you tried Mrs. Grescu's apples?”

You smiled, shaking your head.

It had been a long time since someone approached you to talk and you weren't stupid, in that shy smile there was more than the innocent intention of spending time with you. Having some boy approach you was strange enough to notice that you weren't really interested.

“Not really,” you said with a friendly smile.

“Well, then you won't have any problem in…”

“Oh, Ivan, I was looking for you,” a girl who appeared from the shadows interrupted the boy, drawing your attention.

You had tried to stay away from her, from her and her friends, but, apparently, it hadn't been possible.

“Miriam?” he asked, frowning after the sudden approach of the young woman. “I was talking to…”

“Hey, aren't you bored? The party is over there,” she said, hanging on to the boy's arm, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“No, it's just that…” he stammered, being dragged by the girl while you stood, completely ignored in that remote corner.

“Hey, he was talking to me!” you protested, not because you actually liked that the boy seemed interested, you really didn't, but because you knew the way that girl acted.

“Surely the lack of light has confused him, hasn't it, handsome?” Miriam joked, blinking seductively, leaving the villager speechless and with a silly smile.

“Um... well, if you say so...” he murmured, looking at you for the last time before disappearing, leaving you, once again, alone.

You sighed and sat down on an old bench. That the meeting had been short shouldn't surprise you, they all were, thanks to them.

“Oh, wow, poor (Y/N),” a cocky voice startled you and your body began to shake.

Two girls appeared out of nowhere, pretending to pout. They weren't friends of yours, but they were acquaintances, unfortunately.

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, frowning and crossing your arms.

Trying to escape was already difficult enough, as they seemed to want to corner you.

“Are you enjoying your solitude?” one of them said with a sinister smile. “Well, I shouldn't be surprised that you like dark places, right, Alicia?”

“It's true, this place is made for you, (Y/N),” the other girl said, resting her arm on your shoulder mockingly. “A dark place, where no one can see you…”

“Why don't you just go away?” you asked, removing the hand and getting up from the bench. “Don't you have anything better to do?”

Alicia pushed on your shoulder, forcing you to sit back down among unpleasant laughs.

“Shhh, where do you think you're going?” she threatened, looking at her friend. “Do you think we like being here? No, (Y/N), we're doing altruistic work, right, Olga?”

“Yes, it's true,” her friend said, sitting next to you with a disgusted look. “Have you seen what time it is? There are still children on the streets and instead of having fun, we have to watch you.”

“That's good,” you whispered, starting to get nervous.

No, not again.

“If we let you go with the rest of the decent people, you could cause them a trauma,” Olga said. “With that face you could make even the lycans flee.”

You should have protested, been enraged by that insult, but you were used to it, too used to it.

“Well, Ivan isn't a lycan and he wanted to go for a walk with me,” you said with dark eyes, looking towards the snowy ground, trying, pathetically, to say something in your defense.

“Of course, because he can't see you well,” Alicia said, sighing and running a hand over your shoulders. “As soon as the light illuminated your shitty face, he would surely run away.”

“P-Please, leave me alone,” you stammered, with tears in your eyes, unable to escape from that horribly common situation.

“Please, please…” the girls mocked, pretending to pout. “Oh, are you going to cry?”

“She's going to cry,” Alicia mocked. “Spare us the suffering, (Y/N). I don't want to have nightmares.”

“Hey, come on Alicia, it's not okay to laugh at (Y/N), she has to look herself in the mirror every day,” the girl commented while you made an effort to keep the tears in your eyes.

“It's true...” she whispered, rolling her eyes. “Although I doubt she has mirrors in her house. What for?”

“Well, for her parents and...” the other girl commented, putting a hand on her lips. “Oh, sorry, you don't have parents, do you?”

You, wishing the ground would swallow you up, shook your head, starting to sob.

“Olga, don't be cruel,” Alicia said, getting up from the bench and gently hitting her friend. “What would you do if you had a daughter like her?”

“I would have probably wanted to die,” the girl replied cruelly. “What a shame...”

“Enough!” you shrieked, clenching your fists and abruptly. “Leave me alone!”

“Don't shout, stupid, your voice destroys my ears,” Alicia joked, covering her ears comically.

“Jeez... even her voice is horrible,” Olga protested while you began to tremble, letting the tears fall into the snow. “She's crying again, you're pathetic, (Y/N).”

“Pathetic and ugly,” the other added, nodding with her arms crossed. “Hey, do us a favor and go to your lair, monster.”

“Hey, look,” one of the girls said, hitting her friend's shoulder and pointing at something with her head.

The two looked at each other and gave you another mocking smile before moving away from you.

“Anyway… have fun, ugly,” they joked, walking away from you.

The silence was a relief, only broken by your sobs. Teasing had always been in your life. That trio of witches had always enjoyed torturing you, insulting you, and making you think that everything they said… was real. You could never understand what you had done to deserve those insults, to deserve the constant mockery that made your life a hell.

No matter how much you wanted to get away from them, even from the village itself. That was impossible. In that lost place, guarded by the Black Gods, there was no escape.

“Hello,” an unknown voice startled you, waking you up from that nightmare, from those tremors and tears.

You looked to one side, to the other… Nothing, you saw nothing. You thought that maybe you had gone crazy, that all the suffering was starting to take its toll on you, but that wasn’t the case. You looked down and couldn’t help but step back.

On the ground, illuminated by the dim light of a street lamp, was what at first seemed to be a girl, but in reality wasn’t.

Of course you were no stranger to the Lords or to Mother Miranda. Everyone in the village respected and feared them. You knew that figure, that sinister and almost dark smile: the Angie doll, inseparable companion of one of the four guardians of the village, of the youngest Lord: Donna Beneviento.

For a moment you thought about running away, but you froze. Of course, having a Lord so close, or well, part of one, wasn’t a good sign.

“What are you doing? Help me up,” the doll said, gesturing for you to sit her on the bench.

 Afraid of the consequences of not doing so, you grabbed the puppet with a hesitant gesture and followed her order.

“That's it, well done, villager.”

“M-M-Miss Angie,” you murmured, wiping away your tears and lowering your head in a gesture of respect. “What are you doing here?”

“My Donna and I don't like crowds,” the doll answered, watching you from very close. “Hey, silly, silly, are you crying? Do I scare you that much?”

“N-No... it's just that... n-never mind,” you said, scared, but with the feeling that this puppet had nothing to do with the three girls who made your life miserable. “I-I don't like people very much either.”

“I see that,” Angie said, swinging her legs comically on the bench. “Why? You’re beautiful and you should be surrounded by stupid boys.”

At that comment, your eyes widened. No one, ever, had told you that you were beautiful, much less, someone like her.

“Beautiful? Me?” you asked confused, pointing at yourself. “No, I'm not…” you sighed, believing that, just like the girls, that doll was laughing at you.

“If you say so…” the puppet sighed. “Hey, hey, hey, silly, do you want to play?”

“What? Play?” you asked, shaking your head.

“Yes, that way we kill time for the festival to end,” the puppet suggested. “Do you know how to play chain words?”

“I-I think so,” you stammered. “S-Sorry, Miss Angie… it's just that I've never been so close to… someone… someone like you.”

“Well, you'll get used to it,” Angie whispered, getting a little closer, still looking at you. “Hey, lonely girl, I think my Donna would like you…”

Unintentionally, by chance, that meeting preceded by a horribly bitter moment was the beginning of your new life. The lady in black appeared shortly after to take her doll, who seemed to have escaped.

If Angie hadn't existed... well, none of that would have happened. The doll's insistence to its owner to meet you was a bit exaggerated, but... to your own surprise, it worked. You didn't know what that veiled lady had seen in you, but you didn't reject Angie's proposal to get to know her better.

You couldn't deny that you were afraid, you were, and very much so. Lady Beneviento was described by the village as an extremely dangerous, sick and unhinged woman, but... to you she didn't seem that way. It was impossible to know what was under that black cloth and hypotheses were always part of the village's rumors.

Despite that, it didn't take long for you to find things in common with that woman. She didn't seem like a ruthless creature but... a normal, ordinary woman, or at least, on the surface. A lover of art and literature, cultured, sensitive, intelligent... Donna was the opposite of what the rumors said.

She was a woman wounded by her past, consumed by the loneliness of her dilapidated mansion, but somehow, your presence made it not seem like that. Her voice, a voice that no one had ever heard before, rang out only for you on one of the afternoons you spent with her, drinking tea, like two unknown souls dying to know each other.

Everything happened so fast that you couldn't control it. Your feelings, the sensations you had when you were with her became overwhelming in a very short time. She wasn't laughing at you, she was nice to you. The monster that the rumors spoke of was, to you, an angel in a world of demons.

Her beauty was special, undeniable, stained by a scar that covered part of her face. Again, you could feel privileged to admire what was hidden, but you didn't have much time to do so, as her lips suddenly landed on yours, showing that Donna felt the same as you.

Everything seemed perfect, incredible. The relationship you started with Donna was a good reason to start leaving your past behind. You believed that this tangle of kisses, whispers of love, caresses, could tear down what seemed like an eternity of suffering.

In part it was like that, smiling was no longer too hard a job for you, but, to be honest, you didn't forget as much as you thought.

Sometimes those dark shadows came back. It didn't matter if it was day or night, those words echoed in your ears, preventing you from forgetting your complexes, those words that, after being too many years in your head, seemed like an immutable truth.

It wasn't strange that you wondered what that incredible woman was doing with you, what she could have seen in a horrible, ugly girl like you. Looking in the mirror, you came up with dark reasons for it. Maybe her complexes made her settle for the first girl who didn't run away, or simply, she felt better with someone uglier than her.

Deep down you knew it was nonsense, that none of the arguments your brain made were true but… after so much suffering, you just couldn't help but think it.

Two years later, that relationship continued. Donna was perfect, simply perfect, and you had a hard time understanding why perfection had set its sights on you, but it did, and the reasons mattered less and less to you.

You couldn't stop sadness and the past from coming back to attack you, causing you to cry in front of the mirror for no reason, looking at the reflection of what must have been… a monster.

Of course, your past remained hidden in the depths of your soul. You didn't want her to know about your misfortunes. You were afraid that, if she did, she would recognize that the love she felt for you was nothing but spite.

No, you couldn't tell her anything, you didn't want to worry her or expose your insecurities, besides there was no reason to do so anymore. In those two wonderful years, you didn't return to the village. You were convinced that, with time, you could stop crying.

“Hi,” you said with a slightly fake smile, erasing the tears from your face as you entered the workshop.

The lady in black didn't turn to look at you, but she made a loving gesture with her hand for you to come closer. You did, leaning down to kiss her cheek, to get that shy laugh that drove you crazy out of her lips.

“Mm, ciao, tesoro...” she whispered, turning her head so your lips crashed against hers, stealing a tender kiss from you. “Are you coming to keep me company?”

“Yes,” you said amused, enjoying the contact of her skin with yours, letting her hands grab your body, sitting you on her lap. “What are you doing?”

“Making dolls,” she said, looking back at the work table as you settled on her.

“Yes, I see,” you said amused. “Can I?” you asked, reaching out your hand to pick up the porcelain doll she offered you, looking at it lovingly. “It's very cool.”

“Grazie, (Y/N), but it's just like the others,” Donna said as you ran your fingers along the seams of that little dress. “Well, almost… Look, I decided to add some ruffles.”

“I gave you that idea,” you said with a sincere smile, sighing at the sight of the creation that came, in part, from your imagination. “What is she?”

“She's a fisherman's daughter,” she said, moving as she lovingly caressed your hair. “Look, see the little fish I embroidered on it?”

“Yeah, wow, that’s fabulous work, Donna,” you said, nodding in admiration at your girlfriend’s underappreciated work.

The lady smiled, looking at you, proud of your compliments, but that smile suddenly faded, bringing a hand to your chin and slowly lifting it.

“(Y/N), your eyes…” she murmured confused, studying your gaze.

“W-What's wrong with them? A-Are they ugly? Don't you like them?” you asked nervous, looking away from her.

You were starting to think that time would never heal your insecurities.

“Mm? Di che cosa stai parlando?” Donna asked, shaking her head. “Your eyes are beautiful, tesoro but… they're red… What's wrong? Have you been crying?” she asked with a worried tone.

“Oh, no, no,” you said, shaking your head effusively, rubbing your eyes. “It's just that… I think, I think I have an allergy to… to dust.”

“Allergy?” Donna questioned, frowning. “Really? W-Well, maybe I should hire a maid and…”

A maid? A beautiful girl in uniform working for Donna? A girl surely much more beautiful than you? A girl that the lady in black would notice, realizing that you were hideous? No, thank you.

“No,” you said abruptly, making her blink in confusion. “No, Donna, it will pass.”

She smiled, nodding.

“You're right, besides, I wouldn't like to have another girl in the house, you could fall in love with her,” the lady in black commented, whispering in your ear. “That would kill me.”

“Don't talk nonsense,” you said, laughing at the tickling her lips were starting to do on your neck. “I could never fall in love with someone other than you.”

“I like that you say that. I like knowing that you're mine…” she purred playfully, but before you could perhaps get carried away by passion in the workshop, the phone interrupted, making you two sigh in a complicit manner.

“Hey, you two!” Angie shrieked, interrupting the kisses that were beginning to heat up. “Are you deaf or is your blood not reaching your head? The phone is ringing!”

“Ugh, Angie,” Donna protested, pushing away the doll, who was already beginning to tug impatiently at her dress. “Behave, please…”

“Pick up the damn phone!” Angie shrieked, creating, along with the sound of the phone, a chaos in the normally silent workshop. “Let that silly thing go and get up!”

Your smile faded when you heard the doll talk about you as a… thing… The memories came back to haunt you.

“Angie, taci,” the lady growled, not obeying her puppet. “Pick it up, will you?”

“Always me! Angie, do this, Angie pick up the phone,” the doll mocked, making the lady laugh.

“Do it,” Donna growled, still kissing you, calming your nerves with her hot lips.

“You damn clingy fool…” Angie grumbled, leaving the workshop and obeying her owner.

Anyway, she couldn't do anything else, Donna created her.

After a while in silence, only accompanied by kisses, hugs and increasingly suggestive caresses, the doll returned, making you, with a knowing look, move away before your clothes began to disappear.

“It was the Duke,” the doll said, climbing onto Donna's lap, trying, unsuccessfully, to push you away from her. “He says he couldn't come this afternoon.”

“What?” the lady asked, frowning. “Why not?”

“I'm sorry, Miss Angie, personal matters,” the puppet said, imitating the merchant's voice. “What personal matters? Lose weight?”

“Cavolo…” the brunette lamented, passing a hand over her forehead. “We need flour.”

“So?” Angie protested, without being able to move an inch. “Send the fool to get it.”

“Yes, well… (Y/N), would you do me a favor and go to the village?” the lady asked, causing you to suddenly get up from her lap, nervous.

“M-Me? To t-the village?” you asked with difficulty pronouncing the words.

Two years had passed, two happy years without setting foot in the village. All your demons were still present, but, somehow, far away. Returning to the place where you suffered would only make things worse and besides, they would still be there, you were sure.

“Yes, you,” Donna said, frowning, surprised by your reaction. “Do you mind going?”

“Um, well… I… it's been a long time since I've been to the village and…” you murmured, looking away, somewhat embarrassed by your irrational fear.

“Ha!” Angie laughed amused. “Are you afraid of getting lost or something? Please…”

“No, of course not, it's just that…” you said nervously, noticing how sweat was beginning to run down your hands.

You couldn't, you didn't want to go back. Away from that place you had been safe. You just didn't want to go through the same thing. You couldn't do it, unless… Donna accompanied you.

“O-Okay, but… Donna, could you come with me?” you asked with a pleading look.

Being accompanied by a powerful Lord changed things. Maybe if those stupid girls saw you with her they would change their minds, or, at best, they would get the scare of their lives.

“Io?” she asked, pointing at herself. “No.”

“Why not?” you asked approaching the woman in black, who maintained a cold gaze. “How long has it been since you left the house? I think you could use some fresh air.”

“If I want to get some fresh air, I would take a walk around the grounds, like I do with you. I'm sorry, (Y/N), but I don't want to go to the village,” she answered with a dry voice, shaking her head. “I just need flour, the other things can wait. It's not that big of a deal.”

“It's not that big of a deal?” you asked more nervously, looking for somewhere to look. “Donna, I…”

“What's going on? Why don't you want to go to the village, (Y/N)? Is there something you haven't told me?” the lady asked, slowly getting up from the chair and holding your gaze with her eye half-closed.

“Um, no…” you sighed, lying again, unable to show the root of your problems, of your insecurities. “No, but…”

“Then obey, silly,” Angie said, with a severe tone camouflaged in a sinister laugh.

“I… O-Okay,” you said, without further arguments, defeated by that curious look that threatened with one of her interrogations. “I'll go.”

“Fine,” Donna said, arching her eyebrow and sitting down again. “Don't be long, tesoro.”

“N-no,” you murmured, biting your lip and slowly leaving the workshop.

As you walked, you thought about everything happened in that place, everything you had been through: the death of your parents, your loneliness, the cruel teasing of the girls… Everything had been generated in that sinister village. If there was a place you hated, that you never wanted to return to, it was that one.

Luckily, there was tranquility among the houses. No one noticed you as you walked towards your destination. Maybe, just maybe, those girls were no longer there, maybe you were worrying in vain. After all, two years had passed.

Everything seemed to be going surprisingly well, as you made the purchase relaxed, without awkward questions, as if you hadn't disappeared. For a moment, you had the hope that the demons that tormented you had disappeared with the passage of time. Unfortunately, it was a fleeting thought.

“(Y/N), what a surprise,” you recognized that voice immediately, freezing but forcing your legs to keep walking.

“Hey, where are you going so fast?” Olga insisted, grabbing your arm roughly. “Look, Miriam, Alicia, the monster is back.”

“(Y/N), you look ugly, as always,” Miriam said while you struggled against Olga’s grip. “What has happened to you these two years? Apart from being more horrible, of course.”

“Yes, (Y/N), we thought you were dead,” Alicia said, stopping you from moving forward.

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, pushing them away with your shoulder, trying not to hear their hurtful comments.

“What's wrong? Were you petrified by seeing your reflection? Have you hibernated? What happened to you?” Miriam insisted, with that petulant tone that reminded you of your horrible past.

“It's none of your business,” you growled, walking faster, escorted helplessly by the three girls.

“Well, we like to know where the monsters are, right, Olga?” Miriam commented, laughing mockingly. “So we can hide.”

Maybe telling the truth wasn't such a bad idea.

“You want to know where I've been? Huh?” you said, stopping abruptly, tears in your eyes again. “I've been living with Donna Beneviento for two years, she's my... girlfriend,” you said, faltering.

“What?” they asked in unison, looking at each other confused. “You must be kidding.”

“It's not a joke, so... stop, stop messing with me or I'll tell her and...” you said, pretending a threatening tone you weren't able to emit.

“Oh, what will she do to us? You're pathetic, (Y/N), of course, if anyone had to be with the crazy doll lady, it's you.”

“Don't insult her,” you hissed nervously, cornered again.

“Yes, surely that nutcase has noticed you because you're even much uglier than her.”

“Shut up!” you shrieked, shaking the bags in your hand. “I'll tell her and…”

“They say she's more horrible than a lycan,” Alicia hissed, approaching you with a smug smile. “That she has five eyes and claws in her mouth…”

“No, shut up,” you said, noticing how your legs were starting to fail you.

“Alicia, don't mess with the monster's girlfriend,” her friend said, with a cocky pose. “It's the most (Y/N) can aspire to.”

“It's true, although well, she probably hates seeing her face every day, that's why she sends you on errands, right?” she said, making tears return to your eyes.

“Well, a deformed being like her could only be with another deformed being like you. It's nature, but… well, maybe it's not a good thing,” Miriam commented, leaning uncomfortably on your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” one of the girls asked.

“It's obvious. That relationship won't last. Lady Beneviento will probably commit suicide for having her around, just like her parents... or, and yours,” Olga said with a dangerous tone.

“My parents died of an illness,” you growled nervously, looking everywhere, looking for some help.

“Yes, the illness of having an ugly as hell daughter,” the girl laughed, those laughs that didn't leave your mind even when you couldn't hear them.

“Relax, (Y/N), nothing will happen to her when she realizes how ugly you are, she probably won't take long to get rid of you, but... when she does, if you survive, don't go near the village, okay? You give nightmares to the children,” Miriam said.

Unable to defend yourself, you decided to run, to flee, while the three girls laughed amused. You didn't want to blame Donna for not being with you, for not making those stupid girls swallow their words, but you couldn't help but do so.

When you returned home, you didn't give any explanation, you just wanted to cry. You needed to. Your nightmare was far from over and your reflection in the mirror was becoming more and more distorted. It had been a while since you'd seen a person, but a monster.

“I'm telling you something's wrong with her, Donna, can't you see it?” you heard Angie say as you went up to the dining room.

The crying had exhausted you and you had masterfully avoided your girlfriend's questions.

“Yes, she was tired,” the lady whispered, setting the table while you listened, hidden in a corner.

“You're stupid, Donna, it's obvious that she's been crying,” Angie said, tugging at her dress. “I've approached the bedroom and heard sobbing.”

“If (Y/N) has any problems, she would tell me,” Donna said, sure of her words, ones she didn't know were a lie.

“Maybe the problem is you,” Angie murmured. “Donna, you are as understanding as a glass of water, why don't you ask her and…?”

“Oh, (Y/N),” the lady said when she saw you appear, with a tender smile, one that you returned with great effort. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, I just needed to rest,” you murmured with your voice broken by crying, letting the lady kiss you quickly before accompanying you to the table.

“Mm,” she murmured with a sweet smile as she sat in front of you, thus beginning another of your romantic, silent dinners. “Angie told me you have been crying.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “T-the allergy, you know.”

“If something worries you, (Y/N), you must tell me. You haven't said a single word since you came back from the village,” Donna commented, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye as she poured you a glass of wine.

“Nothing's wrong with me,” you said, feigning confidence, stopping eating for a moment and looking at the lady, who was frowning. “Hey, Donna, you… you love me, don't you?”

“Of course I love you, amore mio,” she sighed, reaching out her hand to caress yours. “I see tears in your eyes, tesoro. Please tell me what's wrong.”

“Nothing, I just sometimes wonder what you're doing with me,” you said in a sad tone, returning to your dinner.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Donna said amused, thus showing her lack of ability to understand emotions, something she wasn’t guilty of.

Poor Donna had been alone almost all her life. She wasn’t able to see the glow that indicated there was something wrong.

“Everything was delicious, Donna, but I think I'll go to sleep, I'm kind of tired,” you whispered after dinner, getting up from the chair.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing your wrist before you left. “(Y/N), I'm sorry about not going with you. If you're upset about that, I beg you to forgive me.”

“Oh, don't worry,” you said with a fake smile, kissing the back of her hand. “I have nothing to forgive you for.”

“Yes, but…” the lady said hastily, getting up and cupping your face in her hands. “I want to make it up to you. Tomorrow I have a meeting with my siblings and maybe, well, maybe you want to accompany me.”

“Do you want me to accompany you?” you asked, blushing at the proposal.

“Yes, um, the only bad thing is that you would have to wait outside, but I could give you that walk through the village, do you fancy it?”

“Sounds good, thanks, Donna,” you sighed, kissing her cheek with hope resurfacing in your chest.

Maybe, finally, you could get your revenge, scare those stupid girls, show them that they couldn't mess with you, that Donna was by your side, that she loved you, and that she didn't think you were horrible, because she didn't, right?

Luck didn't seem to be on your side at all. The next day, you walked with the veiled lady through the village.

There weren't many people on the street and they all lowered their heads as soon as they saw you. You clung to Donna’s arm, keeping her close, looking with your eyes for those girls, who seemed to resist appearing.

You finally reached the entrance of the cathedral, where you would have to wait. You were disappointed for not having been able to fulfill your objective, but you were patient, since there was still the way back.

“Well, well...” that voice, that voice again.

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)? Have you come to ask Mother Miranda to end your suffering?” other girl asked while you read quietly under a statue.

Unconsciously, you looked at the cathedral, looking for a help that wouldn’t come.

“I'm afraid there is no remedy for you, (Y/N),” Alicia said, letting herself fall next to you. “You are so ugly that not even the Black Gods could fix you.”

“Leave me alone,” you whispered, without taking your eyes off the door.

“Has your girlfriend committed suicide already? I would if I had to wake up every day next to a monster like you,” Olga commented, imitating her friend's gesture. “Now it's time to go after another Lord, isn't it? How about Moreau? You two look quite alike.”

“Yes, you'd make a good couple,” Miriam mocked, opening her eyes wide immediately.

“Ladies... Do you think it's fun to mess with my sister's girlfriend?” a seductive, velvety voice appeared behind you, the lady of the castle, Alcina Dimitrescu.

“My lady,” the girls repeated, standing up and bowing.

“Gods... How inelegant you are, my dears,” the lady in white murmured, placing a huge hand on your shoulder. “Maybe a few days in my castle will teach you some manners.”

“No, my lady, we're leaving now, my lady,” one girl said, terrified, walking backwards.

“Get out...” Alcina whispered, shaking her head. “Get out!”

You were nervous, sobbing, watching those three demons flee in terror. In other circumstances you might have laughed, but not at that moment.

“My dear… How do you let them say those things to you?” Alcina asked, sitting down next to you as best she could, running a hand over your tear-wet cheeks. “Can't you defend yourself?”

“I-I've been hearing them say that for so long that… that…” you said hiccupping, succumbing to your complexes, ones they created. “They're right.”

“They're right? Please,” she sighed, putting her arms around your shoulders. “You must be blind, dear. Those three stupid girls are just jealous.”

“I have nothing for them to envy… I'm a monster,” you sobbed, covering your face with your hands.

“Maybe you and I have a different idea of ​​what monsters are like, my dear,” the lady of the castle said, shaking her head and patting your back. “I assure you that I have rarely seen a girl as beautiful as you. You must believe me, I know a lot about beautiful girls.”

“No, that's not true, that's…” you stammered, ignoring the compliment. “It's a lie.”

“Hey! Keep your claws off our (Y/N)!” Angie shrieked, appearing next to Donna and threatening the vampire.

“Your (Y/N)?” the lady in white asked, standing up elegantly. “My dear… If she is really yours, you should care a little more about her.”

“What happened? Why is the fool crying?” the doll asked as the lady in black approached, bending down to lift your chin, a touch you rejected.

“Three undesirable vermin were mocking poor (Y/N). Donna, you disappoint me, how can you allow them to say such things to your girl?”

“Cosa?” the brunette whispered raising her gaze and abandoning her touch on you. “Mocking?”

“Sì, cara mia… Allow me some advice: protect what is yours if you want to have the guts to call yourself a Lord, because if you don’t… well, I suppose there will always be room in the castle for this beautiful young woman, right?”

“Who did it!?” Donna shouted, frantically, comically pulling on Alcina's white dress, making her laugh amused. “Who did it!?”

“Mm, three young girls, they went that way,” Alcina pointed with her head.

“Come on, Donna!” Angie shrieked, walking in that direction. “It's been a long time since we had some fun.”

“Wait!” you screamed, grabbing the doll maker by the hand. “Leave it be, Donna, let's go home, please,” you begged, sobbing, wanting to disappear from that scene.

“No,” she hissed, pulling away from your grip. “They will pay for it.”

“No, no please, Donna!” you shrieked, pulling the lady under the watchful gaze of her sister. “It doesn't matter, I just want to go home, please.”

“What did they say to you, (Y/N)? Why were they making fun of you?” Donna said nervously, putting her hands on your shoulders. “What did they say to you?”

“It doesn't matter, Donna, really,” you insisted, resisting her nervous grip, her nails digging into your skin.

“They've hinted to your girl that she's… ugly, which is nonsense in my opinion, don't you think, Donna?” the vampire explained in an indifferent tone.

“Ugly? Her?” the lady in black asked in a confused tone, looking at you slowly. “But…”

You sobbed, hurt, deeply hurt, and turned around, running away from the women, returning home with a heartbroken cry.

There was nothing to do. Donna had discovered your problems, and you couldn't, nor did you want to wait to hear how she might agree. You wanted to cry, scream, but above all, you wanted to be alone.

You couldn't tell how long you were crying against the pillow, in the dark bedroom, hearing in the background a tireless knocking at the door.

“Apri la porta, (Y/N)!” Donna shouted from the other side. “Do it! Do you dare to disobey me?”

“I want to be alone!” you shouted, resting your head on the pillow. “I don't want you to tell me they're right, I don't want to hear it!”

“Cazzo!” Donna shrieked, banging on the door harder. “Why are you repeating that nonsense!? Open the door! Ugh…”

“No!” you screamed childishly, glancing at yourself in the small mirror on the vanity table. “You want to leave me? That's it, isn't it? You'll leave me because I'm ugly!”

“What the hell are you talking about? (Y/N)… open the door,” the lady hissed, getting impatient. “Please, I can't stand to see you cry, I know it's not the first time you've done it.”

“What do you care if I cry? You'll leave me anyway,” you said, sitting up and rubbing your stinging eyes. “Say it already.”

“What? What do you want me to say?” It was heard from the other side.

“That I'm horrible!” you shrieked, opening the door and running away from the lady, who grabbed you tightly by the arms.

“You're pissing me off, (Y/N)…” she hissed, not letting you escape. “Now you're going to tell me what's wrong with you, why you don't stop crying day after day if you don't want me to get really angry, you don't want that, right?”

You could only shake your head.

“Well, talk, what's all this business about those girls? Why do you cry every night?” she asked, in a calmer tone, wiping away your tears. “Tesoro, you're so ugly when you cry…”

“I'm always ugly,” you murmured, sitting on the bed and playing with your hands. “T-Those girls…” you started when the brunette sat next to you, ignoring your self-pity. “…T-They were never my friends but since I was very little they were always… harassing me, insulting me…”

“(Y/N)…” Donna whispered, nodding for you to continue.

“I know I'm not beautiful, but they... they're always reminding me and laughing at me and... even when some guy would come over, they would talk him out of it, telling horrible lies and...”

“I don't get it, (Y/N), what's this about you being ugly? I'm sorry, but I can't understand,” she stammered, frowning, confused.

“Stop pretending! Look at me!” you shrieked, pointing at your face. “They're right, I'm horrible...”

“Are you sure about that? Are you completely sure?” Donna asked, pulling your hand, lifting you from the bed and dragging you to the mirror, sitting you roughly on the stool. “Look, (Y/N), look!”

“D-Donna...” you stammered scared as the lady grabbed your face, forcing you to look at your reflection.

“Look at yourself, (Y/N). Look at your face, your eyes, your lips…” she whispered, fixing her eye on your reflection while holding your head. “I've never seen a girl as beautiful as you.”

“Y-You're just saying that to cheer me up,” you murmured, lowering your head. “It's not true, I…”

“I can't believe you, (Y/N), even my sister has noticed that you're beautiful, do you really think she offers anyone a room at the castle? Please open your eyes, look at reality.”

You shook your head, looking at all your features, features that, you began to notice, weren't those of a monster.

“If you think you're horrible, (Y/N), what am I?” she hissed, pointing at the deformity of her face. “You've never needed to cover your face, have you? You don't need a veil…”

“Donna, I didn't mean…” you said regretfully, blinking. “It's just that they…”

“They? They're just bitches!” the lady shouted, cursing like never before. “Do you know what their only problem is? That they'll never be as beautiful as you.”

“S-So… you think that…”

“They're just jealous, (Y/N), jealous of you, but you know what? You shouldn't care, all you have to do is… look in the mirror and acknowledge the facts. You're the most beautiful girl in the village, and I don't have enough gratitude for the Gods, because someone like me is lucky enough to have you.”

“Donna,” you said with tears in your eyes, believing her words, forgetting the insults, the years of teasing, realizing that she was right, that boys were approaching you in droves, interested in you and scared by those stupid girls, just out of jealousy because they would never be like you.

“Come here,” Donna whispered lovingly, lifting you from the vanity table and grabbing you by the waist. “Promise me that you will never believe a single word again. You must believe me, tesoro. I will always tell you the truth.”

“I... I don't know what to say,” you stammered, excited because, for the first time, Donna had managed to calm your fears, because you realized that you should have always trusted her, that this nightmare would have ended if you had told her what was tormenting you during those nights of crying.

“Mm, then don't say anything, just kiss me, bella,” the lady whispered, slowly approaching your lips, devouring them in a wet and warm kiss, comforting and salty with tears.

It was a long, deep kiss, animated by the silence, by the nervous breaths your lips emitted while they caressed each other. Her hands grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to her body, letting all her warmth embrace you slowly, without hurrying, while you had fun messing up her black hair, letting it fall on her shoulders.

“I love you,” you whispered, keeping your eyes on hers, running a hand over the scar that deformed her face, discreetly consoling her own insecurities. “I love you…”

Donna smiled, closing her eye so your hands caressed her soft skin, letting only you have that privilege, only you realize that she was a beautiful woman, that her beauty was only for you.

The doubts, the insecurities disappeared little by little, with each step you took towards the bed, with the voices of your demons camouflaged by the wet sound of the kisses, of the steps on the wood. Donna let her body rest on yours as her hands clung to your face while her lips reluctantly moved away from yours kissing your skin slowly, whispering things you didn't understand, but tickled your flesh.

“Beautiful... the most beautiful girl in the world,” she whispered in your ear, her hips betraying her desire, her fingers caressing your collarbone and her lips refusing to abandon the softness of your skin.

You laughed at the compliment, wanting to give her that affection too, running your hands over the perfection of her body, her waist, her chest covered by what at that moment seemed to you to be a horrible black dress.

“Donna...” you gasped when those innocent hands stopped being innocent, when they attacked the ties of your dress and pulled it down your body while you were distracted by her kisses, with her shy tongue bristling every inch of your skin. “Donna…”

She didn’t answer, since worshipping your body was a task that always required all her attention. Her legs settled on either side of your hips and her fingertips undid the annoying bra that covered you.

You gasped again, letting yourself be carried away by the subtle movements of her body, with your hands struggling to make their way over her chest, to undress it, to delight your eyes with her naked and perfect body.

Her kisses went down little by little, without it seeming important to her the hand that slipped through her dress, the hand that caressed her chest softly, a chest that rose and fell nervously, anxious to know what your fingers would do to it.

She pulled away from your lips, sitting up for a moment to look at you, with a cold, thoughtful look. You wondered what was going through her mind, what she was thinking about while her two hands passed over your naked skin, stopping at your breasts, squeezing them in a dominant, but kind, respectful way.

“Il tuo corpo è bellisimo,” she whispered slowly so you could understand her and blush while laughing shyly.

Your smile provoked hers, and without knowing what you wanted, the lady in black stopped being so, taking that annoying dress off her body, staring at you.

“If you say those things to me... I won't be able to control myself,” you said amused, with a mischievous look, grabbing the back of her neck and bringing her lips to their only possible place at that moment, kissing yours.

The kisses heated the atmosphere like a fireplace in winter. Your bodies danced tirelessly, more and more exposed, naked. The caresses became subtle scratches, claims of ownership as you panted on her lips.

Your hands became jealous, they wanted to touch her, to feel her bare chest as it rubbed against yours, to delight in the perfection of her figure always hidden, always ashamed.

No, Donna had nothing to be ashamed of. She was a terribly beautiful woman even if she refused to recognize it. Then, you realized that your frustration must be similar to hers.

Two women in love unable to recognize each other's beauty; you seemed predestined, it seemed that the only thing you could do in your sad life was to be together, to love each other, to kiss each other, to fuse your bodies into one and tell the world that you were both making love with beauty itself.

You protested with a moan when you noticed how her lips left yours, how her silky hair tickled your skin and her hands grabbed your legs, moving them at will.

Your fingers searched for each of the corners that disappeared little by little, they searched for her breasts, to make her nipples stand up like she had done with yours. It was the least that a Goddess like Donna deserved, but she didn’t allow it.

Her lust had other plans, her lips wanted to kiss your breasts, your belly, your thighs… She didn't want to let you think that there was a single inch of your body that wasn't worth worshiping.

“Donna…” you moaned, relaxing your body as you felt her lips on your wetness, her tongue caressing your most intimate area while your hands desperately sank into your hair.

She laughed against your skin without stopping her wet feat, running through your folds, playing with your clit and gently stimulating it so the pleasure wasn't overwhelming. She wasn't making love to you; she wasn't giving you oral sex, no… Donna was worshiping you.

Her kisses weren't fast or anxious, they were slow; they were made to enjoy the taste of your arousal, to get those soft and erotic movements of your hips. You wanted to protest, to demand a place between her legs too, but she didn't let you.

“Shhh, this is just for you, amore mio…” Donna whispered into your skin, adding her hands to the fun, trying to stimulate the parts her tongue abandoned.

You wouldn't feel cold, you wouldn't feel neglected, she was there to make you enjoy as she thought you deserved.

Your childish grunts and protests began to drown with moans of pleasure, with intense shivers, when one of her fingers followed the path of her tongue, impregnating itself in your wet core, playing with your eager entrance.

“Donna, please,” you said without wanting to, involuntarily begging for that pleasure to materialize, to stop being superficial.

The lady heard you, pressing her lips to your skin for the last time and climbing your nakedness, allowing you to taste yourself in her kisses, in a terribly erotic way.

There was barely time to enjoy that sensation, as her fingers entered you without wasting any more time, curling into your trembling core, one that was already unbearably hot.

Her movements were soft, careful, perfectly timed by her kisses and caresses, by subtle moans that came from her lips, by the pure and almost innocent pleasure of giving you that altruistic passion, one just for you.

The moans soon got out of control, causing your imperfect nails to scratch the perfection of her skin, marking her back to cushion the waves of pleasure you felt. Her fingers were harmonious, tireless, tender and passionate, running along your walls in a unique way, entering, leaving, caressing…

“Donna! I’m…!” you screamed when your hips jerked sharply, when your interior kept her fingers still at the same time your entire back tensed, accompanied by a very scandalous moan.

Of course, your release wasn't going to put an end to that pleasure. Without giving Donna time to protest, you threw yourself at her, immobilizing her, not allowing her to embrace you without returning the favor first.

Clumsily, but with desire, you imitated her movements, you sank into her eager wetness, which seemed to call you, to turn you on just with her scent. Your tongue, your lips… everything she gave you came back in the best way you wanted, making the normally shy and silent Donna Beneviento unable to help but scream.

She had her release and the kisses returned, rubbing your bodies tirelessly, brushing your wet core with her thigh while she did the same, hugging each other, looking into each other's eyes, loving each other in a hot, erotic and unmatched way.

“Donna…” you sighed once the action ended, collapsing in her arms after a second orgasm, with your demons far away from you. “I love you…”

She laughed, kissing you on the forehead and rubbing your back, but suddenly she frowned, pushing you away.

“Where are you going? Come here, my love,” you said with a sad look, watching how the lady got out of bed and started to get dressed, with a frivolous, almost dark face.

“Stay here, tesoro, I'll be back soon… I have to talk to three stupid girls…”

[aliensupastar]

for a show that has a motto of "every second counts", it sure does love to waste my fucking time

why has it taken two whole seasons for carmy and richie to make up? why was carmy not wanting to do restaurants anymore an idea introduced at the beginning of THIS season instead of built up seasons one, two, and three? sure, back in season one there's a mention of his motivations being tied up in wanting to fix his family, but then we see him gain hope for the restaurant at the end of the episode, and then be inspired in season two and determined to challenge himself and his staff in season three (for better or for worse). it just feels like he's doing the same thing again, running from good things in his life, removing himself under the notion that he'll get in the way of good things happening. that's the same thing donna did, removed herself from the bear because she was afraid she'd get in the way of a good thing! and it's not inherently a bad thing for your main character to run into the same issue over and over again, it's called having a fatal flaw! but that doesn't mean your main character can stagnate in the way that carmy does. in season one, carmy progresses, he learns that he hasn't been abandoned by his family and mikey and that he's not a hopeless cause. in season two, he backslides, avoids responsibility and uses claire as an escape and it ultimately leads to him failing his family, and it's devastating to watch. season three should've spent time with him apologising and then reintegrating himself into the function of the restaurant. have him slide back into the mentor role again (for sydney, tina, and marcus), learn how to collaborate with richie so that the front of house and back of house communicate with each other properly, start learning to be there for natalie like she tells him she wants him to in season fucking one. he calls her to apologise for not coming to see the baby and she still ends up comforting him, and SHE still has to bring the baby to HIM.

and carmy is my favourite, so he's the only person i'm talking about here, but the other main characters also have disappointing arcs. i like richie learning how to deal with frank being in his family; it could've happened in one season instead of two. i like sydney's dilemma between shapiro and the bear a lot, it feels like she's the only character that's been really progressing. i like natalie's baby storyline, i think "ice chips" is the best episode of season three... i think francie fak could've stayed a gag instead of having her appear onscreen for the first time and then have her issue with natalie be resolved in one day, with no actual details of what betrayal took place. there is quite literally nothing for nat to do in season four, and sure she can't be at the restaurant considering she's just had a baby, but y'know, mothers are human beings with a lot of interesting things going on, too, and i don't think having a child means nat should be demoted from main character to recurring character (though i get that it's probably tied up in the fact that abby elliott had a baby in real life and couldn't be on set as much).

but, instead of giving its characters or the pace of the show any sort of momentum, the writers devote way, way too much runtime to the fucking Faks. do any of us give a shit about ted fak telling his new girlfriend kelly that he loves her? i'm serious. this show used to be a genuine dramedy, now it's a melodrama that cuts to its family of comedic relief characters fucking around a few times per episode.

i've been a fan of the bear since it premiered, it is without a doubt, my favourite show of all time; there's no other show out there that means this much to me. and i know tons of people hated season three, but i thought its worst crime was being imperfect when the first two seasons were perfect, and i figured if the showrunners/writers could learn from the criticism of season three, then season four could really turn things around and it would come back better than ever.

i realise now that seasons three and four being filmed at the same time was a bad sign. i think there's still hope for season five, it hasn't been filmed or even confirmed yet, and the show has a tendency to switch up its style, but i am beyond disappointed that we've had two dud seasons. this is still my favourite show ever, and i will be writing more carmy fanfiction ASAP, and continuing to hope that season five is better.

p.s.: i very much stand by all my opinions in this post, but i would love to hear other opinions and have discussions about season four/the show in general!

[minispidey]

02: Barbie and the Giftshopist.

Steven Grant x f!bimbo!reader. previous part. series masterlist. next part.

02. He's just Steven (and Marc, and Jake)

a/n: i'm not like fully knowledgeable of DID but i did some research! if u guys can give me some tips/ point out my mistakes, i'd be happy to hear it and edit. i just really do need some help 🙏🏻 i've never written a system before and i'd love to hear some advice

(series tags are open!) tags: @3zae-zae3

"Morning, Stevie!" you started calling him Stevie not even a week after you moved in. Sure, he hates it when Donna calls him that, but god did it sound so beautiful when you say it.

You two walk out at the same time everyday, bothered by some of the sellers on the street blocking the door "Excuse us." you say as they made way for you and Steven. A vintage pink corvette was your way of transportation while Steven chooses the bus, but you weren't in a rush today "Stevie! I'll give you a ride. Get in."

Steven blushed, shaking his head "No no, it's fine, love." hearing him call you love made you accidentally kick your leg up. You stared confused at your leg before turning your head towards Steven again "Come on." you pouted.

"I'm serious— oh, bollocks." he drops his keys by accident "I'm alright."

You drove by his side slowly "Stevieee get in. I'm not letting you take the bus when I have a car."

"It's just-"

"Is it because it's pink?"

"No! No, not at all. I don't want to be a bother, that's all." he sighed.

"Steven. Get in." you pull down your sunglasses "I'm not taking a no for an answer."

"Yes, ma'am." seeing you so serious had him flustered. Maybe it's a weird kink he developed after knowing you were a lawyer.

He sat in the passenger's seat and buckled his seatbelt. You smiled at him before fixing your sunglasses "Okay! First stop, the museum."

Steven knew everyone's going to stare at your pink car. He just never expected so many people turning their heads towards you too. You were beautiful and radiated beauty and sunshine, you were an attention grabber.

He just imagines you in all pink in your firm, in a room filled with blue and black suits. He thought it was cute.

"Do you have like, a license? You can take my car on my days off."

"You don't have to." Steven shook his head "Really, you're too kind."

"It's alright! Whatever makes your life easier." you flashed him one of your bright smiles "I can drop you off every day if you wanna. I'm not as busy anyways."

"Take the offer, Steven. Beats having to cramp in every day." Marc says from the reflection of the right side mirror. Steven shook his head before turning towards you "It's fine, love."

"Come on. Rent's hell. Let me save you some commute money, okay? I may be fashionable, but I can be such a cheapskate-" the car comes to a sudden halt as you snap your head towards a shop window. Steven was pushed forward but thankfully held by the seatbelt "What's wrong?" he breathed out.

"What time do you have to go to work?"

"Before ten. Why?"

"It's eight. Do you mind making a short stop with me?"

Shop assistants surrounded you as you worked your magic "Ooh, and this one. Do you have it in pink?" you giggled as you slipped on another heel "Okay so like, the trick is to ignore the assistants." you whisper to Steven "They'll sell you anything in full price. Head straight to the expensive ones before slowly going to the ones on sale."

Steven nodded as he listened to the advice you gave. He felt a bit nervous as you spoke to the shop assistants, you seemed so confident as well. In contrast, Steven felt fairly awkward and he was just observing how you interacted with the people around you.

He was very intrigued by the way you were trying on shoes, the way you were talking about it with the shop staff— he couldn't explain what exactly it was that he found attractive about you, and it was slightly annoying him.

"Chica está loca..." Steven looks at the full-length mirror, Jake was staring right back at him. He raises an eyebrow at Jake "She's crazy. I've never met a girl who wears so much... pink."

Steven was about to talk back when you pull him to the counter, swiping your card and taking your shopping bags "Okay, so like, I got fourty percent off. I have a loyalty voucher." you two made your way back to your car, stuffing your bags in the back "Thanks for coming with me, Stevie. Well, you didn't have a choice anyways."

"It's alright, really. It was... fun." he smiled at you, getting inside the car "Never really shopped with anyone before."

"Really? Not even with friends?"

"Don't have any."

"Aw, how come? You're so fun to be with."

Steven's heart skipped a beat. He stared at you with bright eyes as you drove. He felt his face heat up. When he turns his head to face the side mirror, he finds Marc judging him.

"You've just met her, huh?"

"Shut it..." Steven mumbled under his breath, looking away from the mirror. He watched you, still smiling as you drove. It was like you weren't real, like you were too good to be true. If he had known years ago a woman like you existed, he would've searched for you everywhere. But you landed right outside his flat.

"I don't think I can pick you up after your work, training interns and all." you stopped near the steps "I'll see you later, Stevie."

"You don't have to, it's really okay." he blushed "I'll see you around, love." he got out of your car, looking back at you as he walked up the steps. You pushed your sunglasses down and waved back before driving away.

After an exhausting day, you drove back at 1 am. You shoved your files in the back seat with your shopping bags and rested your face, your signature smile falling from fatigue.

The streets of London were quiet, only the crickets' mating call filling the cold air. You rub your eyes, some of your mascara rubbing off "So tired..." you sighed as you turned the car to the right.

Though your sleepiness immediately went away when you spot a ridiculous ugly-patterned shirt. It was Steven walking back.

"This late?" you whispered to yourself. You sped up a bit to catch up with him "Stevie!" your cheery voice halted the quiet night.

His head turned towards you, a scowl displayed on his face. Though his eyebrows softened upon realizing it was you.

"Don't they have buses out late? You poor thing. Get in." you smiled as you unlocked your car, allowing him to enter.

"I should've totally given you my number. If I only knew you'd be out late like me I would've picked you up." you let out a yawn before continuing "I'm not that busy, I swear. Like, I'm a lawyer but I know how to manage my time."

As you went on and on, Steven just sat there and listened to you.

You parked your car and stepped out, trying to get all your shopping bags in one go. But Steven stepped in and helped "Aw, Stevie, thanks so much!" Steven looked exhausted too.

You talked more in the elevator, detailing how frustrating your day was at your firm before walking to your doors.

"-and he was like no and I was like totes! And he was like noooo and I was like, definitely!" you giggled "Whoever said orange is the new pink is totally disturbed."

You unlocked your door and let Steven in to set your bags down. He went to step out afterwards when you pulled on his sleeve "Thanks so much again, Stevie. You are like, too good to me. We should totally shop again some other time! Goodnight!" you placed a kiss on his cheek before closing your door.

He froze in place, staring at your door before unlocking his own door and getting in. He breathed in the cold air before walking to his fish tank, feeding the two fishes before his vision focused, looking at his reflection on the glass.

"Marc! What was that?!"

Marc looked back at Steven "It's nothing."

"Back off. I really like her, okay? There. I said it."

"You kissed my wife and your crush kissed me on the cheek."

"I said I was sorry."

Jake spoke up, appearing from a small mirror "You like her? Dios mío, that woman wears a lot of pink. What is it about her? Is it because of the car? I have a limousine."

"No! She's- she's really nice."

"Be more specific, amigo. Nice isn't how you like someone."

"Enough." Marc shakes his head "Steven, if you like her then go ahead. But just don't get attached."

"What do you mean?"

"I have Layla— we have Layla. I'm married to her. You can have a crush on your little neighbor, sure, but it's not like you can date her."

"Marc... come on, I have my own life... we have our own lives. What if I decide I want to date her? What if I really really like her, you know?"

"I don't know." he sighed, scratching his eyebrow "It's gonna be complicated, you know that."

Steven let out a sigh, looking down "I-I know... but I just... I just really like her."

Jake on the other hand was deep in this own thoughts. Marc heads to bed when Jake fronts, taking over the body. He cracks his neck before walking out and knocking on your door.

You were just about to take off your makeup when you head his knock. Your fluffy pink slippers squeaked as you made your way to the door, opening it "Stevie? Did you miss me already?" you giggled.

"Do you want to go out with me?" Jake put on his best performance, speaking in a kind of shy British accent.

"Out? Like, a date?" you blinked twice.

"Yes."

Jake understood now. He saw the way your eyes sparkled and your blinding smile "Oh my gosh, yes!" you squealed before covering your mouth, looking side to side across the halls, worried you might've woken up your neighbors "Yes. Let's go out. Uh, maybe lunch? I'm free."

"That's alright with me." he nodded.

"Alright." you couldn't help but smile like a fool "Goodnight, Stevie."

"Goodnight..."

After closing your door, you silently screamed, jumping up and down in excitement. Your exhaustion suddenly disappears as you start planning out your outfit for the morning.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Mdni

Thinking about being Kafka's needy, horny little wife.

He surprises you when he comes home for lunch one day. You don't have anything prepared for him A) because he didn't tell you and though you could sling some food together for him really quick, B), because you're too busy in your bedroom running a very precise vibrator over your clit.

You're too busy thinking about how yummy he looked this morning. Too busy listening to your most recent favorite song to hear him unlock and come in the front door.

Your eyes are closed, and your legs are wide open, back flat against the bed. Small, breathy and whiny moans escape your lonely lips. God what you wouldn't give to have Kafka stuff you full of his cock right now.

He said your name, but it was drowned out by the music being up so loud. And rather than continuing to holler for you, he just headed down the hallway to the bedroom.

What he saw when he looked around the doorframe was truly a thing of beauty: Your swollen cunt was pulsing again and again as you pulled away just in time to deny yourself another orgasm.

But you didn't know he was there. You didn't hear anything but the melodic serenade of the song you'd put on repeat.

Once you were sure you could keep going, you lifted your head to see where the vibrator landed on the bed. Instead of seeing that, you caught an eye full of Kafka just standing there. Smirking at you.

"So's this what you do all day when I'm keeping the country safe?" He laughed and ducked down when you threw your toy at him. "Hey! Hey ... I come in peace. I can't say the same thing for you, though. Goodness, kitten. You miss me that much, mm?" He said, his voice dropped to a low tone that would've been almost scary if it wasn't so sexy.

He sauntered over to you in his officer's uniform, undoing his pants when he reached the bed.

You hopped right up and got on your knees on the floor, pushing him back onto the bed, pulling his pants down around his ankles, essentially trapping him there.

Of course, he could've gotten away if he wanted to. But he's never said no to your mouth being wrapped snugly around his dick.

You went right to work, bobbing your head up and down the full length of his cock, moaning against him every time you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.

"Fuh- oh - oh my god, kitten. What the hell's gotten into you to- fuck! Today?"

You looked up at him as your hand stroked what wasn't between your lips, coming off of him with a pop, you said, "I juh- fuck," you wiped the wet mess off of your chin with the back of your hand and continued, "I just want you, Kaf, so fucking bad today, want you so bad."

You turned your attention back to sucking him off, fully enjoying the reactions you were getting from him.

His abs and thighs began to tense up, his cock throbbing against your hot tongue. "Hmm ... kit- kitten, gonna - oh fuck, gonna cum f'ya keep that up ... hoh my god, baby ... please ... please please please doh-hon't stop. Don't ever stop."

So, you didn't. You sped up your movements, pulling him right over the edge. "Cuh-cuh-fuckin' cumming! Oh shit, shit shit shit! Hoh god ... b-babe! Fuck!" It was an explosion in your mouth that you wholly consumed.

"C'mere, you." He pulled you up onto his lap and cupped his hands under your ass, squeezing you impossibly close. "I needa eat lunch before I head back. You wanna help me with that? Maybe gimme somethin' tuh eat, mm?"

You smiled against his kiss and got up off of his lap.

"Aht! Where you think y'goin', uh?" He said as he stood and scooped you up into his arms.

"G'na fix you some lunch ... right?"

"Mm-mm. Tag baby cakes. You're it. Now, get back t'how I found ya and get ready. 'M fuckin' starvin' t'day."

Fuck, you love this man.

_______________________

@witchy-scribblings @kazutora-kurokawa @katkusuo

@delirious-donna @darkstarlight82 @bakubunny

@reiners-milkbiddies @supersecretsaga @trevengersprincess

@breathofthewind29

_______________________

[warrior-of-storms]

Warrior yaps about Death in the Family (part 2)

(once again, probably going to get long)

Jason is a character who thrives on stability and affection, and when he can't have those, he has a tendency to swerve hard in the other direction and try to be completely independent. He needs to be in control, because if the only person he can rely on is himself, he would prefer to avoid being hurt instead of risking trust. Consider his origin story, where he gets defensive about Batman implying that his living conditions are subpar (even though he definitely agrees), and later he shows up to stop Ma Gunn and her students from robbing the museum because he doesn't trust that Batman took his warning seriously.

This trait doesn't show up much in the rest of Jason's time as Robin, because it didn't need to. Jason trusted Bruce, felt safe and cared for with him, and didn't have to be independent for the first time in a while.

So when things start spiraling, first with the Garzonas case, then having Robin taken from him, Jason falls back into his old pattern of prickly independence, and finds himself back in Crime Alley, where he gets his parents' stuff. This seems like a positive at first - after all, Jason is seeking stability right now, and he used to have that with his parents before Willis got arrested and Catherine died. But instead of finding comfort in these scraps of his parents, Jason's world is further turned on its head when he finds out that Catherine was not his birth mother.

So. You're Jason Todd. You're having a really sucky week due to the justice system being a mess, and then your dad/mentor accused you of murder and then took Robin from you because he thinks you can't be trusted, and then on top of all that, you find out that your mom isn't your birth mom.

Really, it's not surprising that Jason decides to try and find his birth mom. Things are not looking good with Bruce, and Jason is a problem solver at heart - he wants to do things, to fix things, and he hates feeling helpless. He has two separate problems - Catherine apparently was his step-mom rather than his bio mom, and Bruce doesn't trust him anymore - and comes up with one solution for both of them - find his birth mom.

This thought process, I think, is key in why things end the way they do. Jason doesn't think he can ask Bruce for help on this, because Bruce has already proved that he doesn't trust Jason and thus Jason doesn't think he can trust him, especially not with something this personal.

Had Jason discovered this at any other point in his Robin career, I think things would have been fine. At any other point, he would have probably been able to take the birth certificate and Willis's address book to Bruce and been like, "hey I just found out I might still have a mom out there and I want to see if I can meet her," and Bruce would have helped. Jason just had the misfortune to find out about his possibly alive birth mother immediately after the triple whammy of the Garzonas case, falling out with Bruce, and Joker escaping Arkham (not that he knew about that third one.)

There's also the question of, if not Bruce for obvious reasons, why did Jason not turn to anyone else? I think it was a matter of that previously mentioned defensive independence more than anything but also, who would he have reached out to? The only people I can think of are Dick and the Titans, but they were (rather famously) not on the planet at the time. Even if Jason had been willing to call Dick, Donna, Gar, Kory, or any other Titan, they weren't available to answer. And Roy and Wally, the other ones he got along with on his two Titans missions, weren't Titans at that point - I believe Wally was Justice League and I'm honestly not certain what Roy was up to. And we have no idea if Jason even had contact info for anyone but Dick. Maybe he could have called Barbara, but as I've mentioned in other posts, they never once interacted on-panel prior to Jason's death. We have no idea if they had the kind of relationship that would make Jason okay with reaching out to her for something like this!

The really important thing to remember here is that 1) Jason was in a really bad state emotionally and 2) this was a really personal thing for him, and it was kind of a crisis of identity too. His identity as Robin had been taken from him (though he doesn't hesitate to take it back - he kinda takes a "Bruce can suck it" approach to his benching once he knows his birth mom might be out there) and now his identity as Jason Todd is being unraveled too.

Fast forward to him actually meeting Sheila.

Jason is so happy to meet her. Jason is so unconditionally excited to finally have found his mom, to the point that he doesn't question anything when he finds out about the Joker blackmailing her. It's because of this blind faith and trust that he reveals himself as Robin rather than waiting for Bruce to return to make a plan.

[Previous] [Next]

[corporateslave13]

But always when you need it the most… there is a Song

There's something about Twelve’s line, “When you least expect it, but always when you need it the most… there is a song,” that scratches an itch in my brain. ⚠️ Long read ahead.

No, really think about it. River's existence in Nine's era is metamorphic. Fresh from the Time War, Nine is canonically aro/ace, aggressively defying the notion when he learns that River could be (is/was) his future wife.

Whether the Nine x River Big Finish audiobooks happen pre-Rose or during her time, I like to believe that he subconsciously starts believing he can love again because River shows him how. River shows him that he can love again, that things will eventually get better for him.

He’s the only Doctor that reads her diary, for God's sake. Nine x River will always be my favorite #DoctorRiver dynamic—a relationship of equals not because it's preordained, but because they are simply them.

They grow old together, taking things slow, and despite comments about their relationship being completely queer platonic, there's something about loving someone so divine that you imprint an entire archipelago when their entire interaction was erased in existence.

River in Ten’s era is about overcoming grief—the start of River’s ‘lover’ era, might I add.

After "Silence in the Library" and "Forest of the Dead" (which could be a separate essay), the next time Ten interacts with River is through a series of correspondence—aka love letters—right after Donna leaves.

Ten is full of angst, he’s grieving, and River's letters give him all the distraction he needs to overcome Donna’s absence, become the Doctor again, and save billions of lives.

I also love how gentle and smitten they both become after a few adventures/letters. Ten grows so concerned about River being in prison that he even offers to help her escape. Plus, they have a designated table at a café they're regulars at!

This is also where their good banter begins—Ten initially disapproves of all of River's naughtiness but eventually accepts it. Dude is so in love he overlooks genocide so River can make some money (allegedly). He even makes River jealous by hanging out with Jane Austen just because he’s sulking over River stealing the Scroll of the Apocalypse Vault.

Can you feel my obsession when I tell you he starts off avoiding fixed points in time but evolves to doing it nonchalantly in Eleven's era? River’s influence is immaculate!

I’m not done yet, because in Precious Annihilation, Ten is literally River’s servant. Imagine the Doctor waiting for River to get dressed, annoyed by how long she’s taking, only to drool when he sees how beautiful she is.

Teasing her, protecting her, writing love poems about her, and literally screaming when she’s hurt—Ten x River is a slow burn, and oh, what a sweet era that is.

It devastates me that the call for help in the Library IS meant for Ten's face—older and more affectionate. In the Day of the Doctor novelization, right after they took a bath together, Ten gives River a peck on the cheek. He then spends an hour sitting on the TARDIS floor, resisting the brandy in the cabinet when he finds out River’s current mission is for Lux.

I need more Ten x River content please.

River in Eleven’s era? Need I say more? The Boyfriend.

I want to start off by saying that Eleven being 'childish' kind of makes sense, given that he knows this is his last regeneration. I’ll keep this brief because their on-screen adventures, though not enough, speak for their chemistry.

River saves Eleven’s Doctor in so many ways and at so many times. I know the show plays it as if the Doctor always rescues her, but I think Eleven’s adventures with River are mostly for his benefit.

River x Eleven is all about squaring up misunderstandings, hate, stubbornness, and pain their younger selves gave each other.

I’m ignoring the portrayal of River's emotional impermanence in The Husbands of River Song (even though I know it’s for the plot and buildup) because I genuinely believe their dynamic is healing.

The notion that they go on dates every night and the Doctor initiates a kiss every time she drops him off? You can’t convince me otherwise that Eleven is a bad husband.

River even mentions in the R+J audio that they got married several times other than the forced one in The Wedding of River Song. Even though the wedding was unnecessary, they did it anyway because they wanted to!

Also, let’s not forget The Angels Take Manhattan, especially when the Doctor gives his LAST regeneration energy to heal River’s wrist. I love them, I love them, I love them!

And of course, the actual husband: River in Twelve’s era.

They accidentally meet right after the Doctor loses Clara—when there’s an unspeakable hole gaping in the Doctor’s heart, when he thinks he can no longer smile or laugh again. There is a Song.

I also love how River is so smitten, even though she doesn’t know this is her Doctor yet. Twelve's jealousy and his correction of the mistake of saving Clara show that he can't do that to River—not to her. Then there’s the Doctor’s misconception that River wouldn’t understand, honoring her plead in Forest of the Dead: “Not those times. Not one line, don’t you dare.”

Twelve x River is domestic bliss. Their dynamic is finally about expressing their feelings toward one another—living their life to the fullest. (Except for River’s death, of course.) No longer chained by spoilers, they have 24 years of linear time.

=======

River was always there in the most important moments of the Doctor and them to hers. In those what seems like trivial moments where all hope is lost, they always find their way back to each other.

And I think that's what makes their relationship more tragic, because even tho both spend an eternity together, they always seem to be stealing moments just to be with each other.

=======

Thank you for tolerating my yap, I'd like to write more but it's literally 4am and I haven't slept yet. xoxo

[ravennaortiz]

Chapter 4

Summary: Tara hires Clay's Daughter as a Nanny to help with the kids in an attempt to give her and Jax more time alone to repair their relationship. She does this as a punishment for Gemma who is not allowed to see the kids. Unfortunately Clay's Daughter has her own power play in mind and it doesn't stop with just getting Jax to cheat.

As always 18+.

Return to Masterlist and Moodboard

Tara sighed as she looked into the open door of the guest room. The bed neatly maid and no sign of her husband anywhere. If she didn’t know better se would have thought he had never came home last night. A whiny voice in her head stated this wasn’t fair. Why was she being punished for brutality brought down by Clay’s hands. People were acting like she had been the one to beat Nova. That her own hands had broken her ribs, left her with bruises and cuts before choking her into unconsciousness. Even Gemma who all of Tara’s life had hated Nova was angry for the way things had gone down that fateful day. Though Tara thought that had a lot to do with Jax shunning her as well when she didn’t quickly agree that Clay had been wrong to hurt his own daughter.

Crying from the nursery broke through Taras thoughts. Forcing a smile onto her face she entered the room and picked up her little girl. She carefully made her way downstairs to make her a bottle and get Abel and Thomas up and ready for the day. She never expected to be living the single mom life but here she was pretty much doing that. Not that Jax was neglecting the kids. He loved them more than anything and was always making sure they were good. When it came to needing to interact with his wife? He was as cold as ice. If Tara did not know better she would think he hated her.

 A ding on her phone distracted her as she fixed her bottle. Opening her phone her eyes went to the message. Thumb hovering over the notification. Taking a deep breath she hit open and her heart sank. Fuck she thought as she slammed the bottle down on the counter. Her chest felt tight and tears prickled at her eyes. This could not be happening again she thought. Picking her phone back up she scrolled through her contacts before calling Donna.

Jax rubbed his face as he made his way out of his dorm room. The day had been long. Starting with a fight between Clay and Juice over Nova. The latter who had refused once again to bring her to the clubhouse. Stating she was still not fully healed. Which technically was not a lie. The injuries she had just were not from the original altercation between her and Clay. Jax had broken them up with Chibs and Tigs help though he couldn’t help but notice the lack of help from HalfSack and Ratboy. He couldn’t help but think if it came to it and Clay found himself alone with those three he would never see the light of day again.

“Gotta get some answers” he stated to Chibs as he stopped by the stool where the older man was sitting. A glass of Jameson sitting in front of him as he smoked a cigarette. Chibs simply nodded not even needing to ask for context.

“Most everyone’s left for the night. Juicy was finishing up on that old Chevy. I can join if ye want” offered Chibs as he eyed Jax. Once Jax nodded he slammed his drink back and stubbed out his cigarette before sliding off the stool and following Jax out.

Great. Thought Jax to himself as he noted the company with Juice. Though he really shouldn’t be surprised it was rare to find any of this trio alone lately. It was something both Opie and Tig had brought to his attention a few weeks ago. For Opie it had been a simple observation while Tig had been more conspiracy minded with his feelings about it. Jax had simply stated they were friends and it made sense cause of what happened with Nova. But it did leave him with a feeling of slight dread.

Clearing his throat he felt all three turn to him. “Juice was wondering if we could talk? I had a few thigs I wanted to run by you.

“Sure” replied Juice barely looking up from his work.

“Mind giving us some space?” inquired Jax as he looked from Half to Rat.

“They can stay. Whatever you have to say to me can be said in front of them.” Stated Juice as he finally looked up at Jax and Chibs.

Chibs simply shrugged when Jax turned to him. Fuck it thought Jax as he turned back to Juice. Ignoring the smirks that flashed across the others faces.

“Can you look up Novas mom and get me anything you can find out?” inquired Jax.

“Anything in particular?” replied Juice as he straightened up grabbing a cloth to wipe the oil off his hands.

“I think at this point whatever you can find. I’m not sure what I’m even looking for really. Im just trying to find out anything.” Stated Jax. “Feels like we are missing a big piece of the puzzle with Clay and Nova.” He added.

“I will start looking tonight after Nova goes to bed” agreed Juice. He had thought a few times about doing some research into Novas mom but had always held back. Especially when Clay asked him to look her up he had simply lied and stated he couldn’t find anything.

“I have another question that is more personal. Are you and Nova sleeping together or were you?” asked Jax.

Juice stiffened slightly. This was not the first time someone had asked. But it was the first time he considered telling the truth. Weighing his options he gave a slight nod. “A couple times since the incident with her and Clay. She has always initiated but yeah the answer is yeah.”

“Not before though?” inquired Jax keeping his irritation in check. Nova may not be his sister but he still saw her as such. So the idea of one of his club brothers sleeping with her irked him. At the same time she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions.

“No.” replied Juice with a shake of his head. “And before you ask. No I have no idea who she was seeing up at school. Never saw a sign of anyone on the cams or inside when we went to pick her up and drop her off” he added.

Jax nodded before telling him good night and making his way back to the clubhouse with Chibs by his side.

“Seriously dude?” snapped Ratboy once the two men were out of ear shot. Ignoring Half-Sack who was snickering beside him.

Juice sighed as he turned around. “Your sister is a big girl Rat. You know she has no problem choosing who she sleeps with” replied Juice.

**

Clay was relaxing on his couch with his hands buried in Gemmas hair as he bobbed up and down on his semi hard cock. His phone vibrated with a phone call which he quickly declined. A ding of a text followed by another had him growling in frustration. Flipping it opened he hit the message box and began to read as he held Gemmas head in place with one hand.

We have a problem Clay.

Nothing has changed.

We are going to have to do something. This can’t be swept away like the others

“Fuck” growled Clay as his eyes caught sight of a positive pregnancy test. Throwing his phone into the furthest wall he pulled Gemma off his cock roughly. Standing up he yanked his pants up as he moved to the door without a word to his wife.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Just want to take a moment to congratulate you on 500 followers! You absolutely deserve it and more! I love your ideas and your writing. Can I request a blurb with a headstrong reader who is always used to fixing things herself but Billy just wants to take care of her? I like the idea of PA reader, kinda like Donna & Harvey in Suits! Maybe something like reader gets “stood up” by an Anvil client whose interest in you got Billy clear on how he feels and jealous on someone else seeing your worth?

I used to love Suits... but I never finished watching it so I don't know what happened with the whole Darvey situation but I LOVED their dynamic in the first few seasons of the show (and also just how weird and awkward it was when Max Beesley's character was going out for Donna for a while). So, yeah, this was definitely fun to write and I hope I've managed to catch enough of the awesome Donna energy in the reader character here! (Also now I'm going to have to start watching Suits again)

Don't Have to Say You Love Me

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : M 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour.  

You placed his coffee and lunch down in front of him, immediately drawing his attention upwards.

"Is that —"

"A large flat white and a toasted BLT with extra sauce," you said, knowing full well how he liked to take his lunch on a Friday. By this point you were almost offended that he dared to ask.

"And have you got —"

"The research on the Collins account and the two government contracts Senator Williams wants to discuss," you interrupted as you pulled three files from beneath your arm and placed them down.

His eyes narrowed on you, mind obvious racing, trying to find something you hadn't thought of.

"What about —"

"Yes, I've had someone from maintenance fix the AC in the meeting room because I know you don't like having the Senator in your office around the good scotch."

Everything was sorted. Everything he could possibly ask of you, and he knew why — he was just waiting for you to say it. You didn't want to have to say it, because you knew exactly what his reaction would be.

But you knew Billy Russo. You knew how fucking stubborn he could be.

It'd probably amuse him to keep you standing there all day like a lemon.

After a few seconds you let out a huff.

"You do remember that I'm leaving early today, right?" You asked, drawing attention to the elephant in the room.

You weren't even sure why Billy was so annoyed that you'd gone and gotten yourself a date — he was stringing along half the women in New York, so why did it matter that you'd finally found someone who was interested in you?

"Right, how could I forget?" He said and you could hear the disdain in his voice. "I still can't believe you're going out with Thompson."

"Why not?" You asked, really not in the mood for his snarky behaviour. You both knew each other better than that.

"He just so —"

"Rich?" You offered. "Handsome? British?"

"Boring. He's not right for you, he doesn't deserve you."

You rolled your eyes. "And what would you know about what's right for me, Billy?"

The question was met with the expected silence. You'd long since given up on any fancy notion of him actually seeing you or admitting to the undeniable tension that had permeated your relationship since you first started working for him years ago.

What had once been a will they, would they, could they, had be stamped with a big red absolutely not by him and his inaction.

"Enjoy your date," he said, like he was driving the final nail into the coffin.

You couldn't remember exactly what you told him as you left his office, but it didn't matter. The pair of you argued, you always had. You'd made it clear from the start that, just because you were his PA, you weren't there to take any of his shit. You did your job and you were damned good at it — he was lucky to have you, lucky that you still wanted to work for him when there were so many other firms that would love to have you.

But you were loyal if you had one fault. Endlessly loyal when it came to Anvil and when it came to Billy Russo.

The one thing you weren't, however, was an idiot. Davis Thompson was funny, charming and rich, and sure, you might have met him through work, but you at least owed it to yourself to see where it would go.

And, where it went, as it turned out, was absolutely nowhere.

You'd been stood up before — you were a big girl, getting snubbed by a man who couldn't even bother to text was not going to end your world. (Though it might give you the urge to key his car the next time he had a meeting at Anvil.)

You got to the bar early, and you waited.

And waited.

You ordered yourself a drink, and you waited.

You gave up on him showing, but you decided to have another glass of wine because, why not? And, while you were making bad decisions, you decided to add another to the list and text Billy.

Don't go getting smug, but you were right.

It took less than a minute for his reply to come through.

He bored you that much already?

You found yourself smiling, even as you rolled your eyes.

Didn't even show up.

Despite feeling somewhat embarrassed, you knew that Billy wasn't on the other end of the phone laughing at you. He wasn't like that. Not when it came to you. (He was probably planning on keying Thompson's car too now.)

You put your phone down on the bar and ordered another drink, only half-surprised when it didn't buzz with another message from Billy. It was fine. It was Friday, he was probably busy on a date of his own. You had your wine, you were happy, you'd maybe have one more, then —

"Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes?"

In any other circumstances the bad pick-up line would have had you seriously considering throwing your drink, but you recognised the voice immediately and before you could even turn your head, Billy Russo was sitting at the bar beside you.

"Please tell me you've never used that line on a woman you actually wanted to sleep with," you said, barely biting back a laugh.

"I have," he answered, waving down the bar tender and ordering a glass of what you were drinking.

"And did it work?"

"I'll let you know at the end of the night."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." You rolled your eyes. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Thought you might want some company since Thompson was a no-show."

For a few seconds you were willing to accept his answer, but it didn't exactly hold up under scrutiny.

"I text you literally five minutes ago; how did you get here so quick?" You asked, eyes narrowing.

"I was in the neighbourhood?"

He almost looked sheepish, embarrassed even, and you had no idea why. A dusting of pink spread across his cheeks and, for a second, he could barely even look at you.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" And, then when he looked at you, you felt an unsettling feeling in you gut. "What did you do?"

You'd always been good at reading him, at seeing right through him. And, right then, he had the look of a guilty man struggling to explain himself.

"Don't get angry —"

"Don't ask me not to get angry if you're going to say something that makes me angry, Billy," you warned.

He took a drink. "I might have cancelled your date —"

"You did what?"

Un-fucking-believable.

Actually, no. It was entirely fucking-believable. And that was what pissed you off the most. He'd ruined your date because of — what? Some selfish sense of jealousy and entitlement, because if he didn't want you, no one else should.

You start to move, standing only to find his fingers on your wrist.

"Wait —" he started, almost sounding panicked.

"I did wait, Billy," you said, admitting far more than you ever wanted to. "I waited for years. For you. And what were you doing? Fucking half of New York."

It was the first time you'd dared utter anything of the sort aloud, the first time either of you had openly admitted to the unspoken, unacted-upon feelings between you.

You tugged against his grip on you, but Billy held tight as you struggled against him.

"Let me go," you said.

"No," Billy answered, getting to his feet, standing in front of you. "I'm not letting you go again."

Before you could even think to question what the fuck he meant, his lips were on yours and your whole world seemed to come to a screeching halt. For a few sweet seconds, you were frozen, indulging in something you'd barely allowed yourself to dream about, but how could you trust it? How could you trust him when he was only kissing you because he'd been jealous, because he'd thought you were finally going to find happiness with someone else.

You pulled back from the kiss, enough to see the flicker of hurt in his eyes and the worry on his face.

"This better not be a game, Billy," you warned him. "I'm not one of your girls that you can pick up and drop whenever you —"

He cut you off with another kiss, his arm winding around you waist and pulling you against him. And you let him. You allowed yourself to melt into the warmth of his body, you fingers gripping his shirt at his waist, just beneath his jacket.

"No more games," he muttered against your lips. "I can't lose you. I won't. I'm sick of pretending that I don't want you — that I don't love you."

Your heart stuttered, knowing the weight that that word bore for Billy. He'd never used it when talking about any of the other women, and you knew it wasn't the sort of thing he'd say without meaning it.

Still, you couldn't bring yourself to say it back. Not yet, not when some part of you still ached over his treatment of you.

"Take me home," you said, daring to hope that this wasn't just some pipe dream that would vanish the moment he'd had you in his bed.

Not that you made it as far as his bed.

He'd taken you by the hand a pulled you out of the bar, into the cold New York air — his car was park a block over, it should have been a quick, short walk if it hadn't been for you pulling him back for another kiss. Then, before either of you could think, you found yourself in an alleyway, pressed back against a wall as Billy kissed you.

Years of tension quickly came to the fore, your fingers gripping his jacket, his shirt, his hair — anything you could get hold of, anything you could use to keep him close. And all the while, he kissed you. You couldn't get enough of him.

Things quickly reached boiling point, your fingers tugging at the fastenings of his pants while he lifted your dress. There was no slow build, no teasing foreplay, once you'd freed his cock, you found yourself lifted and —

"Fuck," you moaned against his lips, "fuck, fuck, fuck — Billy."

He buried himself inside you in a single fluid movement, stopping when every inch of him was hilted.

His forehead pressed against yours as you both stilled, already breathless, and both entirely overwhelmed.

"Billy," you said in a low whine, your fingers gripping his hair.

His eyes opened and he looked at you through the gloom of the alley.

"I love you," he said softly, like he'd finally realised the gravity of the situation.

He started to move with slow but deep thrusts, not quite making love to you, but doing all he could to show you that this meant something. He alternated between kissing your lips and your neck, and you found yourself leaning into his every touch as pleasure started to coil inside you.

Your legs tightened around his waist, keeping him close, never wanting to let him go. And when you came it was with four little words.

"I love you too."

[nat-20s]

THE GIRLS (FOURTEEN AND DONNA) ARE FIGHTIIIINNNGGG'

aka Donna has some lingering Feelings on the whole mind wipe thing and she's gonna shout about it <3

The Mess That's Made of Us

She didn’t mean for an outburst. They were having a calm, rational, adult discussion, not a fight. She didn’t even want a fight, not really. But The Doctor, he couldn’t just let it go and let her sort out her big stupid feelings on her own. No, he had to needle, he had to inquire, he had to push. He had to say that “everything had turned out all right, in the end”, and oh, that so wasn’t the fucking point. Nearly choking on the words, she yells out, “What would you have done?!”

After he startles and she has a moment to be thankful no one else is home right now, he’s shockingly even when he replies, “You..you know what I did.”

She lets out a right and proper growl of frustration. Clenching and unclenching her fists a few times in an attempt to ground herself, she grits out, “Not what I meant.”

“Donna, I don’t-”

“I meant, you pedantic little-”

She cuts herself off, takes in a deep breath in and out through her nose, and tries again. “I meant if our roles had been swapped. If I had been the one to take that year away from you, if you were about to have an essential part of the person you had become stripped all away in a moment. How would you have reacted? What. Would you. Have done?”

“I..”

She doesn’t let him finish, collect his thoughts, say pretty words that would fix it all. See, she can push, and push, and push too, now can’t she, Doctor? Generally, Donna doesn’t consider herself a cruel person. Sometimes oblivious, sometimes obnoxious, sometimes inconsiderate, but not cruel. But she knows she’s capable of it. She knows, if she so desires, she can hurt someone. She’s not trying to hurt The Doctor, except that she is, not to wound but to pull him to where she is right now. To make the grief and the rage and the conflict be shared. So she keeps going. “It’s not the same though, right? No, of course not. One year out of a billion, maybe more, that doesn’t make much of a difference, does it? Like forgetting what you had for breakfast that morning, barely a breath. I bet it would’ve been so easy, for you.”

“Donna!”

When he says it, his face is hard, and frustrated, but not cold. That’s something she’s still getting used to, with this new-old face. He used to have the coldest rage she ever saw, standing like a stranger. Now, he doesn’t tend to rage at all. It’s enough to make her clamp her mouth and actually listen for a second.

“Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about? Barely a breath, easy for me? Do you really believe that our time together meant that little to me? Do you really not understand by now? I mean, look at my face, Donna. And this is the second time that I’m completely rearranged myself in memory of you! One day with you changedme. One full year with you? Rewrote me.

So yes, removing my time with you would’ve made a difference. It would’ve made all the difference in the universe. And I don’t know what I would’ve done. If I had to get rid of the part of me that was made from you. I’m not sure I could.”

Such pretty words. And, well, the face in front of her right now does suggest some truth to them. But she can’t quite believe them, and she can’t quite look at said face, so instead her vision drifts over to the Tardis parked outside their kitchen window. Folding her arms and staring listlessly, she counters, “Yeah? Don’t you think you would’ve, I dunno, blinked and gone ‘oh that’s odd’ before putting on one of those manic smiles and inputting the coordinates to Venus in the 15th century, and that would’ve been that?”

Out of the corner of her eye, The Doctor’s face goes through a rapid series of motions that she can almost sort out, before stopping at realization. Oh. She didn’t like that one bit.

“Ah, that’s what you think did happen, huh? You think I flew away in my box and had magical adventures and found someone else in a day. It would make sense, right? Start pallin’ around with the nearest redhead I could find, forget all about me ol’ mate Donna, it’s not like she was gonna remember, so why should I?”

She sniffs, and tilts her face up, and resolutely does not let any tears fall. She also does not look at him.

“Donna, there was no one else, not until I was someone else. You want to know what happened, after I lost you? I broke. And then died. There was no me without you.”

Fuck. He changes his tune then, and she’s pretty sure they’re no longer fighting. They’ve always lacked a talent for it. He comes closer, placing both his hands gently on top of her still crossed arms, and moves until she has to look him in the eye. He even throws in a smile. Damn him to hell, he knows it’s near impossible for her to see her best friend smiling and start smiling a bit herself.

With a breath that borders on being a laugh, he continues, “But you! You got married, and yelled at parking attendants, and had a kid, and you existed. And I can’t regret that, I can’t. So I’m sorry, I really am. I ignored your pleas, and I took some of you away, and I’d do it again. I’d do it every time.”

She lets out a sigh and lets her arms drop to the sides. “I know.”

Wiping a hand down her face, she mixes a huff and a shrug. “Honestly, Doctor? I think I’ve already forgiven you.”

With a nod, she stands up straight and tells him straight, “I think I forgave you the moment it happened. I just..I just need time. I know it’s been years but I’ve only been able to think on it for a week.”

“I understand. Hell, there’s things that take me a couple thousand years to process, so.”

Donna rolls her eyes and let’s out a small chuckle, before opening her arms and saying, “C’mere, spaceman.”

The Doctor quite readily does, and the hug fits just as naturally as it always has. They take a moment to breathe together, and Donna gets to listen to the comforting double rhythm of the two healthy hearts in his chest. The silence is comfortable and the sharpness has eased.

When she pulls back, she can’t help but ask, “Wait, second face? What was the other one?”

“Ah. About that-”

[chefkids]

I love your meta!!! It’s amazing that you’re still able to identify and connect new things that the rest of us overlooked. Do you have any predictions for next season? Not just with SydCarmy but also any thoughts about where the show may take us

Thank you!

I think a big focus of next season is going to be on their lives intertwining and their families coming together. Season 3 ended with Richie, Nat, Carmy, and Sydney all coming together to open the restaurant and including her in their core group like family. And like Ayo and everyone in the show has said, this is all about chosen family and real family. But I also think a lot of bad shit is going to happen, especially at the very start of the season.

After Carmy practically begging to meet Sydney's dad, I do think Emmanuel and Carmy will finally meet. I do not think he is going to like Carmy at the start. He is very sceptical of their whole arrangement, he knows Sydney quit for a minute and might have heard Sydney talk shit about him. And if he ever finds out what went down on opening night, I don't think he'll be too happy with Carmy. But I do think they will eventually bond and get to know each other, I think including that Sydney's dad was sober from alcohol is going to be a big conversation for them.

I think they were alluding for Natalie having some sort of complication maybe preeclampsia with her shoulder pain. I think she's going to give birth sooner rather than later. Natalie giving birth is going to bring Donna back and is what is going to get Carmy and his mother to finally see each other again after seemingly years apart.

I also think Donna and Sydney will meet. I think Natalie and Sydney are both going to try to get Carmy to at least try to give his mother a chance because they are both much more optimistic and forgiving people than him. I think it's going to cause a lot of tension between all of them because Carmy doesn't want Sydney seeing that side of his family.

Sydney's share/ownership of the restaurant comes back into question. I also think Carmy getting more credit/recognition than her in reviews or press will bother her. I think she will basically say that this place is not really hers. Someone tries to poach Sydney, Carmy freaks out. Sydney starts to consider if it is worth staying if another good opportunity comes along.

Marcus' mom is dead and gone. RIP to that lady. I think grief and how they all deal with it differently will be a big theme. Carmy ignored his grief for a long time and tried to use work to fix things. Sydney and her dad still keep her mom's memory alive but she still struggles with letting others know about her grief. I think Marcus will be letting others help him and be there for him and Sydney will be there for him. I think this will bring back things Carmy about his own grief and how he's still dealing with it.

Luca returns to fill in for him for a bit and emotional support for Marcus. Which I think will also bring us to see Competitive Carmy in full force as goes into Michelin Mode, for Syd's sake. No amusement or enjoyment. I also think this will kinda turn the crew against Carmy as they'll prefer Sydney, they kind of already do. Especially considering she was more involved in training them and in the build than he was. Plus she's just nicer than him.

Sydney will overwork herself and burn out, she won't trust Carmy on his own and will inevitably put a lot of pressure on herself. She's not going to want to quit or stop but Carmy and her Dad will be pressuring her to slow down because she's making herself sick. I think a large focus of Season 3 will be on their energy. In Season 1 it was all about the pressure of money, Season 2 about time pressure, and now they need to find the energy to keep going because they need to make back money in a set time frame. The focus on energy and their internal dynamics between them, rather than external issues like things in restaurant being broken.

Jealous Carmy. When he realizes Marcus likes Syd more than a friend, he's going to view everyone as competition and a threat, even though he's still to scared to do anything about it. I think Sydney will grow closer to Marcus and Richie and maybe even Luca or new guy Connor, not in any romantic way, but it is going to bother Carmy a lot that she never spends any time with him and that they know her outside of work but he doesn't.

Menu overhaul is inevitable, aside from Marcus dishes, most of the menu is not that remarkable and they really need to pull out new interesting ideas if they want a star. I'm sure we will see a lot more of Syd and Carmy actually testing recipes together. Carmy is just not as creative as Sydney when it comes to food, he struggled with the chaos menu. Mostly as Carmy's way to force proximity with Syd when she doesn't want to be around him.

I'm also still rooting for the return of the short rib risotto and the missing acid chaos ingredient. They have to bring it back.

Tina and/or Richie straight up comment on Sydcarmy. I think Tina knows and suspects a lot more than she lets on. She is very observant and protective over Sydney. She's overheard and seen a lot of what has been going down between them. She's going to put Carmy in his place and scare him a little on Sydney's behalf.

Richie on a similar note is going to put 2 and 2 together on what Carmy is feeling and basically tell him to stay away from Sydney because he doesn't want a Claire 2.0 to happen to her and he probably feels like Carmy does not even deserve Sydney in any way and he would just fuck things up for everyone at the restaurant.

Natalie finally says something to him and that's what finally gets him to do something and stop bottling everything in. She never commented on his relationship to anyone except Sydney, and that was more so to get her in the loop and protect her, because she knew Carmy was leading her on while seeing Claire and not telling her. She's going to subtly or not so subtly ask him wtf he is doing. I also think Jimmy fully thought Sydney was his girlfriend.

Fire Suppression System will tested for real with an actual fire. I have a lil theory that Sydney is going to be the one to accidentally start a fire next season. The fire suppression test was all a metaphor for Syd and Carmy suppressing their feelings and the spark/fire that they have. At the end of season 1 Carmy started a grease fire after Sydney quit, because he couldn't suppress his sadness and feelings for her. In season 2 they passed the fire suppression and Carmy decided to declare Claire his girlfriend. They managed to contain their feelings, but eventually they still came out with Carmy and his panic attack. But now I'm sure Sydney is going to be the one trying to suppress feelings because of how everything went down, and I think it will just blow up in her face literally and metaphorically. They spent so much time explaining the fire suppression system and the electrical wiring and the amperage of it all, that I think it's going to come into play again.

Carmy uses Sydney for emotional support without her realizing. When he texted her because he needed her comfort and forgiveness before opening Mikey's note, she didn't know that was what was happening. When he had panic attack and thought of her to calm down he used her for comfort, but she doesn't know all that. I think he's going to tell her or show her that she is his comfort person. I also think we will also see Sydney eventually reach for him for support and comfort as well.

Sydney's catering days and UPS flashback. Please I am begging. We need more of her lore. I think next season will be a lot of seeing her as more independent and being the boss, we only just started to see her at her peak performance in the last episode. I think we'll see more of her evolution, and also her flighty nature. She went from restaurant to restaurant. I think the idea of her leaving The Bear will hang around all season, but she won't leave.

Claire apology then goodbye within the same episode. Sorry to that girl. I think Carmy was already planning to breakup with her after he had the panic attack and the talk with Uncle Jimmy, which is why he freaked out when after he saw her at dinner. I don't think there would be much place for her unless they throw her into some hospital scenes with maybe Nat or Sydney being sick. I think her work here is done. I think she might make other appearances with the Faks. They are close family friends. Maybe she's friends with the elusive Francie Fak that everyone is dying to know what happened between her and Nat.

I think Richie will try to work elsewhere for a bit. He wants to prove that he doesn't need Carmy and that he can succeed without him. I think he'll come back when Sydney asks him to. The situation with him and Tiff feels very 50/50 to me. On the one hand I think it could be him learning to move on from his ex, on the other hand I think Chris and Joanna are all about second chances and I could see Tiff seeing Richie change and wanting to give things another chance.

I also think there's opportunity to see another city like we did with Copenhagen. I'm still rooting for Carmy to take Syd to Noma before it shuts down. I could also see a New York flashback episode with Carmy working at Eleven Madison and Sydney going on her NYC food tour and their whole invisible string coming together.

Not in this season, but The Bear Cookbook will happen. Trust.

And The Psychedelic Musical Episode. A girl can dream. But I do think we'll get another karaoke scene, maybe with the whole crew going out after a shift and just letting loose for once.