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carmenized-onions · 7 months ago

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Two Steps Back. | Advanced Payment

logline; it's time to retrace your steps. both of you.

[!!!] series history, this is the thirteenth; nothing distresses me more than when i see people read this out of order PLEASE BABY PLEASE

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. constant headache was actually in season 3? my brain. my power.

Or, maybe you'd like a playlist made especially for this chapter? Consider this my Fishes special.

portion; 17k new record again, please god tell me it gets shorter from here on i'm so. tired..

possible allergies; you will know exactly what trigger warnings you need upon reading seeing the first line. Also! I watched Season 3, and injected some lines from it into this, including the finale. I don't consider it full spoilers, because it's an entirely new context, but you might wanna catch up before you read this one!

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader so excessively gendered, in this chapter. my bad.

it's my birthday so if you typically lurk legally you have to tell me your thoughts on this one! Also it's once again the new longest, so like. cmon.

“What are you, Amish?”

You blink, craning your head back to look up at this annoying giant. You’re too tired for this shit. This is your one day off this week and you’re spending it fixing faulty lights with your dad, at some shit diner. Why did you agree to start coming on jobs? Why’s this guy gotta bother you on your lunch break? What’s wrong with you not wanting to smoke? Pardon you for not wanting to kill yourself with tobacco—

“Ah, no, I’m just uhm—” You gesture your hand to your head. “I get migraines, kinda easy, so I can’t, uh— Can’t indulge.”

He nods, he opts to stand next to you, while you’re sitting on the curb. At least the smoke will blow over your head, this way. You try to eat your lunch in peace. He does not let you have this moment of peace.

“Jack, right?” He nudges your foot with his. “That’s what your pop’s calls you, at least?”

“Yeah. Everyone calls me Jack.” You nod. Guess this is a conversation now, whether you want it or not. “You’re Mikey? The owner?”

“The Original Chicago Beef, in the flesh.” He nods, and he says it like he’s proud but he doesn’t look it. He leers at your partially consumed tin foil wrapped sandwich. “You bring your own lunch?”

You shrug. “Uh, yeah, grilled cheese with pork—”

“Why would you—” The door to the kitchen swings open, as Mikey grimaces. You both turn your heads to see another guy come out— Oh it’s that one, the one that cannot stop talking about his divorce— Mikey consults him. “Yo, Rich, do I look like some jamoke, to you? Just wonderin’.”

Rich, tilts his head, and his legs follow after him, “No, cousin, whatssup?” He takes the cigarette from Mikey, when it’s offered up.

“Well, our little fixer friend here—” Mikey nudges you, again. “—seems to think me a fuckin’ ass.”

Now when did you say anything like that? “Wha—”

“Stop making lunches, I’ve been watching you come in here with your little lunch pail the past few jobs, you eat free ‘ere, aright? You’re workin’.” Doesn’t matter what you said. Mikey sees you. Mikey’s always seen you.

‘workin’’ is a bit generous. The most you do is hand your dad tools, hold a flashlight, and ask too many questions. You definitely could do more, but he knows you're too tired. He really just wants to spend time with you. You pretend to not know his ulterior motives.

“We’re gentlemen here, sweetheart.” Rich bends down, so you can see him past Mikey’s frame, at your level. He reaches a hand out for you to shake. “Richie. Jerimovich.”

You’re not gonna remember that. You take his hand and shake it. “Jack. It’s— I’m just Jack.”

You’ve only got one hand on your sandwich, to shake Richie’s hand. So, like a school bully, Michael takes your loosened grip as his opportunity to grab it from you. “Yoink—!”

You whine, “C’mon—” “Let me make you a real fuckin’ sandwich, sweetheart—” “I’d just like my sandwich, alright?” “Oh, it’ll be your sandwich, alright? You think I don’t make good sandwiches? Richie, she doesn’t think I make good sandwiches.”

“Fuckin’ insane, cousin.”

You attempt to defend yourself from the peanut gallery of one guy. “Not what I said!”

“Why do you keep bringing lunch, then?”

Because it’s easy? Because it’s orderly? Because you’ve been in a full state of autopilot for the last threeish years and every day you’ve eaten the same breakfast and made the same lunch and then you go on your shift and then someone nearly dies and sobs in your arms and then you sit on the edge of the ambulance and you eat your grilled cheese and pork? Because if you break the routine it’s all gonna hit?

“I just like making my own lunch.”

“Well, stop. You’re breaking my heart.” Michael takes a bite of your sandwich. You click your teeth. Germs. You’re going to chastise him, but he doesn’t let you. “You like pork more than beef?”

“I think beef is fine.”

“Not what I asked.”

You take too long to respond, meaning the lie won’t be believable, so you have to tell the truth. You have to tell The Original Chicago Beef that— “I… I like pork more.”

“How dare you—” Barks Richie, the guard dog, apparently. Mikey stops him, putting a hand up.

“No, no, I asked the lady a question. She’s wrong but I asked. Fair’s fair. We express our fury like gentlemen, Cousin.” He nods, to himself. Thinking. About what is beyond you. God, so much for a lunch break. You point to your sandwich in his hand.

“Can I have that back—” “No. I’m makin’ you a goddamn real sandwich.”

You all but growl, really. You start to stand up. God, this guy is pushy. “I just said, I prefer—”

Mikey’s already making his way back into the kitchen, with the last half of your lunch as hostage. “Oh, I’ll make you a fuckin’ pork sandwich, aright?”

Mikey’s guard dog stamps out the butt of the shared cigarette, walking backwards into the kitchen, following Mikey but watching you. “He’s gonna make you fuckin’ pork, aright?”

“Aright!” Is all you can yell back, at your wits with the two dumbest most stubborn middle-aged geezers you’ve ever met.

Richie holds the door open for you, so you don’t get locked out. Alright, maybe he is a gentleman. You hear Mikey’s voice ring, from inside the kitchen. “And if you’re not doin’ nothin’ for your dad, try to fix the fuckin’ coffee machine, would you?”

This fucking guy.

You have waved at him a couple times, here and there, while helping out your dad. But now, you’ve officially had Michael Bear Berzatto in your life for a solid ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it.

Carmen Anthony Bear Berzatto has officially not had you in his life for ten minutes. Doesn’t feel like it. Feels like you’ve been gone for years. But you’re probably still just outside, talking to Richie and Syd. How is it still Friday? What time is it? Almost six? They’ve still got four fucking hours of service to go? No, that’s a good thing. This is a good thing. Doesn’t give him time to think. Everyone needs to stop staring at him.

What a fucking monster. What did he even say? He can’t remember anymore. He remembered ten minutes ago, and now it’s gone. Completely walled off in his memory. What did he say? Why did you make that face? What did he say to Richie, again? Why did you step in front of him? What did you say, again? What did Richie say? What happened? He can’t remember. He knows he did something fucked up but Carmen cannot remember what happened twenty minutes ago. That’s bad, right?

“I need hands!” Carmen does not recognize the fact that he’s working until he hears his own voice.

Right. He’s on expo. He’s doing expo. That’s what was happening twenty minutes ago, he thinks. That’s what was happening, right? Doesn’t matter. This is what he’s doing now. Fak comes back in and takes the tray to run. He looks around for a moment, confused.

“Where’s Tony?”

“She’s gone.”

Fak pauses. You don’t leave, that doesn’t match up in his brain. It doesn’t really match up in Carmen’s either, but this is what’s happening now. “What’d’you mean she’s gone?”

“I mean she’s fucking gone, Fak.” Carmen barks back, practically. Such a fucking monster. Could Fak tell him what he said? Doesn’t matter. Carmen nods to the plate. “Table twenty-five, go.”

“...Where’d she go—” “Fucking go, Fak!”

There is a loud, thrumming buzz. The type that goes off after a game. Or maybe after a wrong answer. Expo clock. Since when did it have a sound setting? The kitchen flinches, including Carmen, including a meek-made Neil, and look to the clock behind them.

Time has stopped. 0ERR is all it displays now. The sign ‘EVERY SECOND COUNTS’ is real ironic, now. What the fuck happened? You would know. You’re still outside, Carmen could get you. Carmen could get you and say he’s sorry for whatever happened. The back of his head feels like it’s hemorrhaging. He needs to go to a doctor. Maybe a paramedic. Carmen could get you, ask you what he said, and also ask if he is actively dying, right now.

“Fak.”

“Carm?”

“Table twenty-five.” Carmen points at the plate again, with his sharpie. Then points behind him, to the broken clock. “Then fix that.”

“Why not call To—” “Do you want a fucking job here or not?” “I—I do—” “Then do your fucking job, Fak.”

Carmen doesn’t need you. The Bear doesn’t need you. They can function just fine. Everything’s fine, without you. Everything’s normal. Everything is the way that it should be. He is shaking so much— When did he eat? Has he eaten? What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened twenty minutes ago? Or was it twenty-five? No. That’s table twenty-five, he’s mixing up his numbers. What time is it? He doesn’t know. The whole kitchen doesn’t know what time it is, anymore. You are gone and so are the minutes.

Fak leaves, with the plate. Shrunken. Following orders. Carmen just turns everyone into himself, doesn’t he? What a fucking monster. He knows how bad it is to be him, and yet he still does it. Look at the orders, Carmen. Run fucking expo. So fucking slow, Carmen. Look at the orders.

The crumpled piece of paper you handed him twenty minutes— Thirty? Fuck. The fucking note you handed him some amount of time ago. It sits on his table, next to all the actual orders. He rereads it, instead of the five cavatellis he’s supposed to be yelling about, right now.

Walk-In Hotfix, $80

Plumbing Repair (Service + 4 Hours), $250

Oven Wiring Fix (House call), $70

Oven Hotfix + Replacement Thermocouple, $120

Non-Gratis: Pinot Grigio, -$20

Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. -$2,500

You forgot the booths. And taxes. And you should probably get paid a half day, for serving for the past half hour. You also forgot all the times he called you, texted you, came over, the bookshelf you brought him, the basil, the rosemary water, cleaning up his trash, every time you tried food for him, every time you told him everything was going to be okay, every time you made everyone breath in here like it was going to be okay— You forgot everything you do. Priceless. Easily, you are owed millions, from Carmen.

He flips over the note. He reads Sweeps’ quick scribings from David, the fucking asshole out front, the fucking asshole in his head.

Cherry + Lamb, good flavour. A lot of elements. Fresh, Unique. Overall good? Ig? Weird tone.

Said he’d like to speak to ‘Wine Girl’ (ick), mentioned Michelin connect? Number = Connect? (Ick)

You didn’t eat the cherry and lamb dish. That just connected, in his head. You didn’t get to eat it. Not only did you not get to eat it, the motherfucker outside did. Fuck. You were trying to be nice, but you’ve fucked him. Unique is practically a slur to his Exec. Carmen has fun when he makes things for you— He plays— That’s not what his Exec wants. He wants two elements, max. The fact that David actually liked the flavour is nothing short of a fucking miracle. Carmen could throw up. He’s definitely getting an ulcer, again. Where’s your Tums? Fuck, you took it with you, didn’t you?

It’s embarrassing how many rules he forgets to implement, when he cooks for you. Boundless, unrestricted— When he cooks for you. Doesn't cut a single concept. It’s mortifying that someone other than you ate it, let alone David fucking Fields.

Carmen’s eyes feather, almost closing, but not completely. He scratches his fingers through his hair, destroying the cast of gel it’s been stuck in. His curls are desperately trying and failing to reform. It doesn’t matter how much he runs his hands through it, he cannot get it to smell like you again. He cannot find you in himself, he cannot find you in his kitchen. That’s what annoyed him, earlier, wasn’t it? That you were everywhere? That you were carved in, everywhere? He thought he didn’t want that?

His knees bounce where he stands, he bumps into his jacket under the table. Right. You left it. Are you cold? Turtleneck was thin. You looked so good. You always look good. Better, in his clothes, but you always look good. Did he remember to tell you that? Probably not.

“Where—” Fuck, he really is going to throw up. “Where we at on Booth Twelve’s dessert tray, Chef?”

You said it was okay for Carmen to give your number out. You gave your dish out. You shelled yourself out, for Carmen. It feels like a cave is being hollowed out, in his throat. He is so angry and he doesn’t know who it’s for. He doesn’t know where to put it. Is that what happened twenty-three— twenty-four minutes ago? Did he give it to you? No, he gave it to Richie, right? That’s how it started. Marcus hands off the dessert paddle to expo, silently. No one wants to talk to Carmen. That’s probably fair. What did he say? Probably bad. It’s already huge they haven’t walked out on him, yet. Has anyone walked out, yet?

Marcus is here, Syd is still out back— Well, actually, she might’ve left with you, she should if she can. Are you still out there? Tina wipes her eyes, working at the oven you fixed thirty— No, forty— Fuck— Earlier. It’s probably the onions from the broth making her tear up. No, it definitely is. Fak is out front, Sweeps is out front, Richie is still out back.

What did he say to Richie? Something about kids? There are no servers to hand off dessert to stupid fucking booth twelve. Carmen cannot keep looking at the family he’s ruined, in whatever way he managed to ruin it. He grabs the dessert tray. He’ll deliver it himself. He can do it all himself. He’s good by himself.

You’ve been out of Carmen’s life for 0ERR minutes. Yeah. That’s exactly how long it feels like.

“Try it try it try it.” You mumble, hurriedly, excitedly, to Marcus. The bread guy. He’s the nicest of the bunch, so far. You hand him the mug. He takes a sip of the coffee you’ve been perfecting for the last six jobs here, give or take. You’ve been in The Beef’s life for two months or so.

“Holy shit.” He nods, digesting it— Actually digesting it, which means— “It’s edible.”

“I know!” You all but shout, too excited to hide it. You’ve finally figured out how to make this thing produce what it’s supposed to— Instead of what is essentially arsenic with coffee flavouring.

Your excitement makes a line cook behind you grimace. The one you’ve still got yet to win over. “My ears, kid.”

“Sorry.” You reply lightly. Your back is turned to her, so she can’t see you cringe to Marcus, crying for help, practically. He’s sympathetic. He kept saying you just need to prove yourself, but it’s been taking forever, what else can you prove?

He decides to fast track you. “Yo, T.” She nods. She respects Marcus. But you’re just some girl that’s been in her walkway for the past seven weeks. “Try it.” He hands her your edible coffee.

She rolls her eyes, already nonplussed, but she takes the coffee. She is genuinely impressed, for a split second, before it turns into a coy sarcasm. “Wow— You’ve made not poison, great job, baby.”

“I’m gonna get better.” You respond instantly. That’s something you noticed Tina likes. Quickness. “I’m gonna make you a good coffee.” Determination, too.

“Bold.”

“Thank you—”

“No.” She pushes the coffee to your chest; you grab it before it spills. “I like it bold.”

God, she’s so scary. “Heard.” She’s so cool.

She watches you, for a second; wants to see if you crack. You don’t, thankfully. She folds. She finally kinda likes you— Or rather, is willing to admit it, in some small way. “You can come tonight.”

You can come to family, tonight. It takes everything in you not to cheer. You should mix them drinks. Or is that too try hard? No, it’s the perfect amount of try— Right? It was your old party trick in college, you should use it. Prove yourself.

“Cool.” Is all you can say, without seeming like a desperate nerd.

You've been slowly cutting away at every relationship in your life, par for your family— And even that hangs by a thread— And you thought you were fine with that. You thought you were good like that, but once you got used to The Weirdos of The Beef, you cannot help but desperately want friends, again.

Every moment you get outside of your twelve to twenty-four hour EMS shifts, you spend it here. You’re tired, but it might actually be worth it; to talk to people instead of rotting in your apartment for half a week every week.

What month is it? March? When's Squid's birthday again? Did you miss it? It's the one time a year you get to talk without the underlying pressure that you have to hang out now.

Happy Birthday, what have you been up to? Oh, same thing as last year? You're irrevocably a different person now but you're also still the same? Nothing much? Same here. We should see each other soon. We won't. I won't say I love you because I don't want to be weird. Even though we used to say it every day. I will never know you like I used to, and so I won't even try. Same time next year?

Working in The Beef reminds you of her. Reminds you of the other stubborn cook in your life. Was in your life? Don’t think about that. Sometimes you hear her dad's voice out front, buying himself a half-hot half-sweet braised beef sandwich. Sometimes you think about going out there and saying hi. Sometimes you think about asking about Syd. Sometimes you think about asking how the catering gig is going. Sometimes you think about asking if she needs you anymore.

You never do.

“Aye.” Mikey claps your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. You didn't even realize he was behind you. He digs his hands in, a sudden and always painful massage. His preferred way of saying stop fucking tweaking. He leans over your shoulder, looking at the coffee cup that doesn't look as pitiful as it usually does. “Good job, kid.”

“Thank you—” “Now figure out how to make it worth drinking.”

You scoff, rolling your shoulders to push him off you. “I'm fuckin’ trying!”

His hands stay in place, but his massage does become gentle, and actually decent. Per usual. You’re not sure how he always manages to get the knots. “T say you can come to family?”

You had to get all yeses that you are now in fact family to join for family. You look over your shoulder to face him. “Mhm.”

“Good.” He looks around. “Your dad here?”

You nod. “In the basement, something about your furnace? It's fucking beyond my skill set, so I'm up here until he needs me.” As much as your dad started doing this to hang out with you, heads got too hot with you fucking up which tools to hand him one too many times; repeatedly yelling same team in a more and more distressed tone did not seem to be helping either. Whatever. Gave you more time with the coffee machine. You’re going to make this thing your bitch, one day. One day this thing is going to sing for you.

“Oh, good.” And with that, he's already pulling you to his station. “You can help me with family brisket, then.”

“Nooooo—” “If you want family you gotta be family, Jack.”

You whine, but you don't mind this at all. Mikey sees you. Mikey knows you; probably better than he should. He knows you always need something to do.

“Pork?” “Pork.” “Fine.” It's your recipe, so you must oblige.

He's good. Mikey is good. Mikey pays attention. Mikey's made the cycle break in a way that doesn't hurt.

Carmen needs to apologize to Richie, for never taking his stress over running front of house seriously.

Carmen hates being out front already and he’s only just stepped out. Why is everyone looking at him out here, too? He should also apologize for whatever he said forty minutes ago. Thirty-five? Doesn’t matter. What’s important is handing this dessert tray to the fucking jagoff. The man who Carmen dreamed of becoming, the man who he’s now scared he’s become. David Fields. Former Executive Chef. Too many accolades to list.

“Dessert is served, hope you enjoy, Chef.” Carmen manages to bite his tongue for this guy, so why can’t he do it for the people he actually gives a fuck about? He’s a fucking coward. He swallows, setting the dessert paddle down in front of the stupid five fucking guests. Far too big a party, for a fucking walk in. And all they got for dessert was the fucking tasting paddle? Why are they skimping now? Assholes. All of them. Carmen knows all of these people. Well. Knows their faces. Remembers working with them, but never really talked to any of them. Why would he? He was focused. He was good.

“Thank you, Chef.” Says David. It feels like lightning, to hear those words. But not in a good way. It should feel like an accomplishment, to hear this guy say anything remotely positive, to Carmen, but it doesn’t. It feels the opposite, honestly. Feels like something’s wrong. Getting this guy’s approval is wrong.

This is the part where Carmen is supposed to leave. This is the part where the server goes back to the kitchen and continues their job. But he can’t. He’s stuck in place. He’s back in front of the fire, and he’s not putting it out. Carmen swallows hard and his spit feels like glass all the way down his throat. His Exec stares at him, nearly coy— Like he knows. Like he can see the invisible snake coiling around Carmen. Like he knows that Carmen desperately has something to say.

“Let’s have it, Chef.” David goads.

Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck it. Not like the night can get worse. “Can we step out, for a second, Chef?”

“Lookit this.” Mikey pivots his phone to you, for you to see a photo he's just been sent.

It's of… “What the fuck is that?” You've got no clue. Some weird spiralling array of colours.

“I've no fucking clue. Food? Apparently?”

It's April, and Mikey has let you in. You will not realize how big a deal this is until it's too late. But right now, you're just happy to be hanging out with him before open. Without your dad, too.

Their most frequent regular’s favourite chair broke, one of the legs just fully gave out underneath him. It's an easy fix. Mikey could probably do it himself. Fak or whatever the fuck his name is could absolutely do it himself. Mikey called you, instead. Called you. Not your dad. You think this'll be your first and last solo job. Naive.

“Carmy?” You assume, he's the only person that's on that rich people shit. Michelin Star Chef, baby boy with big dreams.

“Yessir. He’s still killin’ it.” Is all Mikey says, tucking his phone away. You frown at him, screwing the chair leg in, sitting on the floor. He groans. “Don't gimme those eyes, Jack.”

“You should reply!”

“He doesn't need a fuckin' reply.”

You tilt your head, the look you give him translates to ‘Are you forreal?’

He just sighs, exasperated. “You don't get brothers, Jack.”

“I literally have brothers, Michael.”

“Yeah but it's—” He gestures to the general air, attempting to explain nothing. “It's different. We communicate different.”

“Sure.” You can admit that. “I'm sure the dynamic is very different brother to brother, brother to sister. But like—” You jiggle the chair leg, alright maybe it's not that easy of a fix. “It sucks bein’ the baby, I know that much.”

“You're the baby?”

“Yeah, why?” You lift your head from the chair back to him. “I got middle child energy? I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

“No, no— Oldest.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “Thought you were one of me, Jack. My own blood.”

You scoff. But it’s not something you haven’t heard before. You’ve got the blood of people who’ve had to take care of people. “Well, being the only sister kinda made me the oldest sister.”

You pad your hand around the floor, searching, before looking up to Michael, again. “You see the fuckin—?”

He tosses you the chair leg cap, before you can finish asking for it. “You’d like Nat. Similar ideologies.”

“I would love to know how your younger sister fuckin’ survived you, that’s for sure.”

He laughs, at that. “She’s a trooper. Surrounded by some of the worst men Chicago has to offer.” He looks at the coffee that you painstakingly crafted for him, this morning. “This is actually kinda fuckin’ good, Jack.”

“Do you have to add actually and kinda?”

He rolls his head back, neck straining. “For what you had, it’s fuckin’ perfection, alright? Happy?”

“Fuckin’ delighted.” You throw the chair up onto its legs, and it stands. “You?”

He gets up from his seat to try out the chair. He takes the coffee with him. There’s a split second where you’re scared that actually this was too hard a job for you and Mikey is going to fall and the hot coffee is going to careen everywhere and fucking scald him and you told him he needed to get a first-aid kit in here but he hasn’t gotten around to it yet—

Mikey sits, and the chair works. He takes another sip of your chai coffee blend, like a vote of his confidence. He never had any doubt you could get the coffee machine to work, never had any doubt you could make a good coffee, never had any doubt you could get the chair to stand strong. Mikey has always always believed in your capabilities, even when you haven’t, and has always been happy to prove yourself to yourself. Mikey is really good at being an older brother, you think. And forget that he never texted back the real baby of his real family.

“Fuckin’ delighted, Jackie.”

“Never fuckin’ call me Jackie.”

“Heard.”

Two executive chefs stand in front of a restaurant, there’s probably a joke in here somewhere. Carmen doesn’t care to find it. He watches your car drive out onto the road, out of the corner of his eye. That’s it, then. You’re gone. He fishes a pack of cigarettes out from the chest pocket of his chef’s uniform.

“You should quit.” Says David, so high and fucking mighty. As if he doesn’t house a bottle of wine daily.

“I’m aware.” Carmen lights it anyways. You don’t smoke. Did his mouth taste bad, every time he’d kiss you? Probably. You probably just bore it for his sake. Maybe that’s why you so rarely went for his lips. He takes a puff, it doesn’t calm him down.

“Your hair is fucked.”

“And the food?”

“Busy. You can lose the basil and eggplant. You’ll re-learn.” David tilts his head, thinking, smarmy. “Someone got in your head.”

“Someone other than you, yeah.”

“Awe.” David smiles, something he so rarely did in the kitchen, but perfected in public. His tone is so perfectly pouty, like it’s disappointing he’s not the only one living rent free in Carmen’s brain anymore.

Carmen steadies his eyes forward, to the street. He cannot look his own personal nightmare in the eyes, but he can say what he’s always wanted to say. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

“How am I an asshole?” “Can you stay ‘til after close?” “You’re welcome.”

Carmen turns his head to face him now, eyes wide like plates. “I— I’m welcome? For—For-for what?”

“You were an okay chef, when you started with me.” David doesn’t fear eye contact. David’s probably never had a bad day in his fucking life. “And you left an excellent chef, so you’re welcome.”

Carmen’s never even heard the fucking word excellent come out of this man’s mouth. Let alone to describe him. It doesn’t feel good, for some reason. It still doesn’t feel good to receive praise from him, despite the fact that he’s everything.

“You…” Carmen needs a second, to catch his breath. He probably should quit smoking. “You gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, and— and nightmares— You— You know that? You understand that?”

“Yeah.” David’s entirely unfazed. All he’s heard is a list of benefits, in his head. “I gave you confidence and leadership and ability— It fucking worked.”

Is this what it working is supposed to feel like? Is this what it feels like to function? Is this what it means, to make it? If it is, then what the fuck does not making it feel like?

“I’m— I’m, I’m— I’m actually fuckin’ stunned, right now, I—” Carmen rubs his hands over his eyes. “My life stopped.”

“That’s the point.”

“That’s the point?”

“You wanted to be excellent. You got rid of all the bullshit, you concentrated, you focused— And you got excellent. And it worked. You’re here.”

You’re not bullshit. You’re not bullshit and he shouldn’t have done whatever he did to make you leave. Carmen is anything but excellent, without the people behind him, and he’s realizing that now. He’s an idiot, because you told him this, the second day of knowing him you told him this. He has a wonderful team— A family— A family he now considers you a part of. And he tanked all of it, everyone— Why? Because he had a bad fucking day? Because a dish got sent back? Because he fucked up tremendously? Boo-fucking-hoo, Carmen. It takes an idiot like David, who thinks he’s a genius, for Carmen to realize they look exactly the fucking same— And that is the actual thing that’s mortifying, tonight.

The real mortifying thing, isn’t that you were so fucking sweet and considerate of his stupid fucking brain and his stupid insane aspirations— It isn’t your dish. The mortifying thing is he prioritized the man in front of him, in any regard. It’s mortifying that Carmen made you feel like you had to prioritize the man in front of him.

“I just— I just made the—The only fuckin’ good thing in my life leave because— Because you got in my fucking head.”

David just raises his brows, like Carmen’s fucking stupid. Like there’s not a problem here. Because to him, there isn’t. And once again, the stupid fucking Exec repeats. “You’re welcome?”

“I’m—” The door opens, and for a moment, despite the fact that he watched your car disappear minutes ago, Carmen still thinks there’s a chance it’s gonna be you; begs a higher power that it’s going to be you. It’s not. It’s Richie.

“Hey asshole—” Richie stops, when he sees David. “Ah. You’re needed, Chef Carmen.”

“Cousin— You’re needed, pronto.”

“Not your Cousin.”

“Heard and resented.”

Richie’s had a habit of calling you cousin, lately. You pull your head out of the back of the Ball-Breaker arcade machine. Its controls are allegedly on the fritz, but you’re pretty sure Chi-Chi just sucks at this game. “Whaddya need? Do I have to run front a-fucking-gain?”

That was a fun out of nowhere three hour shift with zero restaurant experience— Par for bar. It will not be the last.

“Nono— Just a cuppa coffee? More like six.”

You kiss your teeth, tutting him. “You know how the fuckin’ machine works—”

“Want your coffee?” He corrects, like stroking your ego will make you fold. It does. You stand up, stretching your legs.

“Fine. Just get me a list of everyone’s—” He slaps a folded note against your forehead. “Orders.”

“Fucker.” You take it off your head to read. “Whatta ‘bout Mikey’s?” He’s missing from the list.

Richie shrugs. “Surprise him, he’s out back— In one of his moods.”

You don’t know how uncommon it is for Mikey to be so out of it. You’re meeting Mikey during his slow but certain downward spiral, but you don’t know that. No. How could you? No, so you think it’s normal for Mikey to occasionally leave rooms and turn inward.

“Aye aye, Rich.”

He kisses your temple as you pass him, making an all too aggressive ‘muah’ noise, because that’s what fake Italians do, as a form of thanks, and lets you go work your magic on the coffee machine.

You’re pretty integrated into The Beef, at this point. How long has it been? You don’t really need this list of orders, but it’s good to visually ingrain in your brain. You’re thankful to Mikey for investing in a bunch of Torani’s syrups for your coffee dreams. You’re here enough for it to be worth it, anyways.

You’re probably gonna start being here a lot more, soon. Well, maybe.

You haven’t told anyone yet, about what your dad told you this morning. That he’s gotta retire, soon. Like soon, soon. Now, you’re faced with a decision— Keep going with this EMS thing until your body fails and you need to be wheeled out by your own coworkers, or take on ownership of a small family business directly after the fucking pandemic. Really good options, here.

You’re leaning towards the latter, at the moment. You’re leaning towards being called here, for half your jobs. It’d be hard to make ends meet on just whatever crack change Mikey is able to pay you— But you used to bartend in college— You could work dailies whenever you’re short. Probably. It probably won’t be that hard. Could it be harder than what you’re doing now? Could it be harder than watching someone flat line? Probably not.

Ebra, watered down black coffee. T, two sugars, one milk, cinnamon and chocolate syrup. Marcus, spiced coffee. Sweeps, water in a deli cup— A delicacy. Richie, two sugars, cinnamon syrup, ideally boiling hot.

But to be fair, people need someone like you. People need paramedics. Is it selfish for you to decide you can’t handle it anymore? Should you let your body break before you let yourself go on one? Fuck. Fuck. Where’s Mikey? You’re feeling the knots build up again.

Out back. Richie said he’s out back. You pick up your coffee, and Mikey’s— cinnamon and caramel, this time— And head out back.

And you see a sight that you’ve actually seen plenty of times.

You’ve just never seen it in the back alley of The Beef. You’ve just never seen it happen to a friend. You’ve just never seen it happen to Mikey. You don’t drop your coffee cups in some sort of dramatic shock, or anything like that. Because that would take time. It’d take too much time to be shocked. You just turn around, immediately, partially crashing into the door as you run back in, breaking the mugs and spilling scalding hot coffee over your hands and chest— You don’t feel it, you don’t give a fuck.

“Cousin!”

You’re a mom friend. That’s what Syd used to say. You carry Tums, painkillers, cough drops, pepto— All in your purse or pockets. You keep a lighter on hand. You keep safety pins— All ranging in size, just in case of a clothing mishap. You keep kid’s band-aids in your wallet. You’re a mom friend. Everyone used to find you also carrying a naloxone kit a bit dramatic, like you were overdoing it. You always hoped they were right; that it would never be used. Regardless, you'd always replace it when it expired.

“Cousin get my fucking bag, now!”

“Right.” Carmen’s honestly kind of surprised, to be needed. But it’s probably just cover, to talk. People don’t typically need people like him, especially not Richie. He nods to David. “Chef.”

“Chef.” David nods back. He looks at Richie. “Where’d your translator go?”

The fuck? Richie does not look phased, at all. He also looks like he’s been crying— So it might just be that nothing phases him, right now— But at the very least, Carmen would expect some surprise. So this disrespect must not be new. Why didn’t he tell him?

Maybe he did, actually. Maybe that’s what happened forty minutes ago? How’d that lead to you leaving?

“My what?” Richie knows exactly what David’s getting at, but he asks anyways, to embarrass the fucker.

But David doesn’t feel embarrassment, it’s just not in him. “Your somme.”

“She had to leave early.”

“Ah,” He nods, “You’ve got her number, by chance?”

A deep and sharp exhale, through Richie’s nose, as he desperately tries to be a good host. Tries to be star material. But he runs his tongue across his top teeth and he just can’t bring himself to bite it. Richie hates both of the men in front of him right now. “I do, I do, actually— I’ve had her number for three years, memorized, y’know why?”

David shrugs, delighted to upset someone. “She your wife or something?”

A sharp, terrifying chuckle, honestly— One that hides any sign of a smile. Rich steps forward. “Oh, I should be so lucky. I would be so fucking lucky, if a woman like that—” And he pivots his head, to speak very deliberately, to Carmen. “Decided for some Godforsaken fuckin’ reason, that I was worth an ounce of her precious time— Let alone her hand.”

“If only, truly, David.” Still looking at Carmen, squarely in his face. “If fuckin’ only. If I had someone like that— I’d be on hand and fucking knee, for her.”

“Chef.” Carmen’s talking to David but looking at Richie, but that might also be because he can’t look anywhere else.

“Chef.” David shrugs, whatever fight here is beyond him. He doesn’t fucking care. Carmen knows the Michelin thing was bullshit—Certainly David can put in a good word, but inspectors are anonymous, that’s the whole point. But his stupid fucking Exec wanted to see if Carmen would stoop so low as to take the bait. It also wouldn’t hurt to get your number, you’re perfect. Carmen doesn’t think he’d have taken the bait, but the fact that he’s not sure speaks volumes.

David steps back into The Bear, and an Executive Chef and his dead brother’s best friend stand outside their restaurant. There’s a joke in here somewhere, and it’s probably Carmen.

“I’d fucking kill him.” You shake your head, when Mikey tries to brush off the end of his story like it’s no big deal. “I can’t believe no one fuckin’ said anything.”

“They might’ve.” He sniffs, arms crossed— Guarding himself. He sits opposite of you, both sitting on the floor of his office, backs against either wall. “But I couldn’t fuckin’ hear anything but him— And then the fucking car, obviously.”

You can tell he’s trying to move on. He wants you to ask if his mom was okay. You don’t honestly care, and you don’t care if that makes you a bad person, either.

“You’re not nothing, Mikey.”

It’s close to midnight, a humid but cool August midnight. A week or so, since Mikey’s overdose. You’re finally christening your jumpsuit with a patch from The Beef, on the left shoulder. You do keep stabbing yourself with the sewing needle— If you were sleeping beauty you’d be fucking dead.

“I know.”

“Mikey, you’re not.”

“Don’t fucking Good Will Hunting me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You both laugh, but you’re still stuck with him, at that dining table, in your head. You’re still hearing Uncle Lee screaming, despite never actually hearing it. “They should’ve said something.”

“It’s different when you’re there.” He shrugs, again. “Hard to speak in those rooms.”

Your lips stay tight, for a moment. There’s a long silence of just staring at each other, because you want him to know that you’re completely serious when you say— “I would’ve said something.”

“Sug tried to say somethin—” “She told you to stop, that’s bullshit.” “She was mediating—”

“And why the fuck were you the one that needed to calm down, exactly?” You frown, deeply. You don’t have anything against Sug, but this story just rubs you the wrong way. The way no one was on his side verbally. “Just cause you’re the guy, means you can’t stick up for yourself? I hate that shit.”

He thinks on that, for a moment; because no one has ever said the thing out loud, never acknowledged it. He nods, tucking one knee up to rest an arm on it. “It sucks, being the guy.”

“It fucking sucks to be the guy!” You shout back, emphatic, practically jumping to agree— You jab yourself again. “Fuck, ow— Yes, it sucks.”

“And—” You’ve really opened a faucet for him. “And no one wants you to acknowledge that you’re the guy— Like you can take the compliment, but you can never say ‘I know, I’m doing it on purpose.’”

You poke at the tip of your nose with one hand and then to Mikey with the other, bang on. “No one wants the guy to know they’re the guy!”

“We always know!” “We always fucking know!” “We’re the guy on purpose!”

It’s rare for people like you two to talk and actually get along. The typical stereotype is that two sweethearts will always end up butting heads, too intimidated— But instead, you’re both just able to honestly commiserate over being who you are. The Guy. The Dependable One. The Head.

“You shouldn’t have to always be good and—and like, understanding of every single fucking person— Especially when they’re a dick!” You yell, exasperated. “You are allowed to fucking stick up for yourself!”

He tightens his lips in a line, because he agrees, but he has been so trained to lay down and take it. To take the teeth; it’s one of the many many jobs of being the guy. You know it just as well. He sighs, “I know.”

“You’re worth standing up for, Mikey.” You emphasize. They should’ve said something. It shouldn’t have been on you. You shouldn’t have had to defend yourself. They should’ve protected you, like you did for them. Like you always do for them.

His eyes flicker, a bit. He clears his throat and punches his chest, shaking his head out of it, because if he doesn’t, he might actually fucking cry, and that’s not what the guy does. “Okay.”

You nod. “Okay.”

He kicks your foot with his. “Now tell me some fucked up thing that happened to you, Jack.”

You laugh, and it quickly turns into a groan as you try to come up with something. “I uh… Oh! I fuckin’ hate the nickname ‘Jack’, that’s something.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, teasingly intrigued— You’ve thrown him a bone, because you’re the guy, too. He’s able to focus on this in lieu of himself.

You nod and continue. “My dad gave it to me, when I was really really little, like five or six— And it was ‘cause I like— For a kid, I was really into uhm, like— Like everything?”

“Like a nerd?” “Like a nerd.”

You chuckle. “I liked helping him go on jobs, and barely being able to hold flashlights. And I liked learning what all the wires and the pipes do— I liked doing chores and like— Making shit for people, or doing shit for people, if it made ‘em happy.” You’re a little too zoned in, on your sewing. The motion helps keep you grounded. “And so he would go like Awe, my helpful little Jack of all Trades, you can do it all.”

You pull the string up and out of the fabric, taught, dramatically high. “Which like, of course he was trying to be like, a good dad and hype me up— But my kid brain just garbled it and translated ‘you can do it all’ to ‘you have to do it all.’”

“Damn.” He cringes but laughs, sympathizing. “You got ‘guy’d’ at fuckin’ five?”

“Well, when did you get ‘guy’d?!” You snap back, he takes a moment to think about it, sighing.

He shrugs. “Probably five.” “Exactly!”

You both laugh, a bit too aggressively, honestly; compensating for the sting. Mikey sniffs, adding. “So that’s why you hate it? ‘Cause of the weight?”

“‘Cause of the weight.” You nod. “Like a constant reminder, that I need to be like— constantly at service.”

“Yeah.” He nods, eyes looking down. Thinking about far too much, and though you have become his closest confidant, there are still parts of him that he won’t show. “Drinking helped?”

“Drinking helped.” You close the last stitch on the patch. “Which is funny, because that whole thing started from wanting to be helpful.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“There was uhm—” You can’t help but laugh a little, at the ridiculousness of it. “There was this girl, and she was my best friend, and she fucking loved— Or I guess still loves— Cooking. And even as a dinky little highschooler, she’d have me try shit, and it’d be like— So luxe.”

“Right.” Mikey smiles, thinking of all the dishes that have been foisted on him by the precocious cook in his life.

“And I wanted to be like… equally impressive. So I started doing research on wine pairings and shit, so I could have something to talk to her about, have somethin’ to say other than wow great job— Because I could tell she always wanted more.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “I haven’t gotten there yet!” “Well stop burying the lead!” “Oh don’t you point a finger when it comes to burying a fucking lead.” “Oh, fuck you.”

“Anyways!” You clap a hand on your knee, casting aside the completed sew job. “I’d give her pairings based on research— still teens, so we couldn’t drink yet, but she appreciated the thought. And then I went to college and she went to CIA and we were talking and then we graduated and suddenly we weren’t…” You knock your fist against your hand a couple times. “We weren’t talking, anymore.”

“And so you became an alcoholic?” “Kinda.” “Oh. I was being sarcastic.” “Yeah, dontchu feel guilty as fuck now?” “What happened?”

“It was easy.” You shrug. “I started working at pubs in college, I was getting free drinks all the time, I was trying more wines for her— I didn’t really see it as a problem, because like, I didn’t do it to function, I never reached for anything like ‘oh I fucking need this.’”

“That’s how it starts.”

“That’s how it fuckin’ starts.” You nod. “Then suddenly we weren’t talking and I became an E-M-T, and then suddenly I was watching people y’know, live through the worst moment of their lives or die, and I— Suddenly I did need that drink.” You should’ve just called her. She would’ve done a lot more for you than a bottle could. But you were stupid and tired, and still are.

“Who coulda thunk it?” “I know! Ridiculous.”

“How long you been stable, again?”

“Six months, four days… But who’s counting?” You laugh, and so does he.

You’re both very literally counting. And the buzzer of a timer going off on your phone reminds you of that. You both stare at it, in a daze, as it officially hits Twelve in the morning. Once you silence it, you look to Mikey.

“Michael The Bear Berzatto, you have officially been sober for twenty-four hours.”

He smiles, no teeth, but he smiles. “Gimme.”

“Be patient!” “I am being the most patient a person can be.” “Yeah that’s fair.”

You opt to go for the cupcake first, a big One candle sticking out of it. “This is stupid.” Says Mikey. “Have some fucking whimsy in the face of adversity.” Says you, pulling out your disposable camera.

“Do we need photos?” “What the fuck else are we gonna put in my folder?” “I dunno, write me sonnets.”

“Do you want sonnets?” You ask, and the worst part is Michael can tell you’re being sincere. You would write him sonnets, if he only asked. You would do anything, if he only asked. You quit being an EMT, immediately after seeing the state he was in, last week. You are here for Michael, and he only has to ask.

He shakes his head and blows out the candle when you lift the cupcake to his face, and he makes a wish to whatever higher power exists, that he won’t drag you down with him.

You thread a 24 Hours in Recovery chip onto the embroidery thread you were using and tie it off. When you present it to him, he bends his head down. “Chip me.”

“That’s not what chip me means.” “It means something?” “I’m pretty sure chipping someone means shooting someone—” “Well Google it, Chip.” “Well, fuck, ok— Chip?”

He shrugs, “Better than Jack, no?”

You throw the necklace over his neck, like you’re knighting him. You grow a great degree softer. Even when he’s deliberately not supposed to be The Guy, when he’s supposed to be working on himself, he’s still your guy. Still looking out for you just as much as you look out for him. He will never realize that you consider the exchange equal.

“Yeah, better than Jack.”

“This sobriety thing is going to be easy.” “ —Okay, so— The thing is, everyone kinda says that after twenty-four hours and then a week or two in, it actually hits—” “It’s gonna be so easy.” “I love that you think that and I want you to keep that hope up, I also think maybe let’s just be easy on ourselves if it gets hard—” “It’s not gonna get hard.” “That’s what she said—” “Fucking gross!”

He throws his arm over your shoulder, a loving noogie, but a noogie nonetheless. You try to hit him from below, it’s a failed flailing. You both start laughing and he stops, opting to just hold you there. You hold his forearm with your hands, and sigh.

“...Even when it’s not easy, we’re on the same team, okay? Don’t forget that. That we’re on the same team and I love you.”

He squeezes you a little, bicep curling. In fifteen seconds you will complain that he’s choking you, but right now, he says, “I’m not gonna forget you love me, Chip.” and neither of you know this is a lie, yet.

“I’m sorry.” Carmen sniffs, is he actually going to cry? Holy shit, he might cry. “I don’t know what I said—”

“You don’t know what you said?” Richie scoffs, he can’t help but laugh. “You don’t know what you fuckin’ said? Ah— It’s— It’s all good, man. You don’t know what you said, so it’s all good—”

“I’m apologizing—” “Nonono— No— It’s all good, I don’t need a fuckin’ apology. I know how you feel now, so it’s all fuckin’ good.”

“I love you—” “You love me? You love me? Oh, that would’ve been nice to hear half a fucking hour ago.”

Has it really only been thirty minutes?

“No— No, you know what?” Richie takes a choked breath, pressing his index finger over his nose and mouth, then points it to Carmen. “If that’s what your fuckin’ love is— I don’t fuckin’ want it. And I don’t want that shit for Chip, either— So leave her the fuck out of your fuckin’ love or whatever the fuck you think that is, too.”

That one hurts, because it’s true. Carmen can’t say anything to that; the silence just eggs Richie on more. “Oh, was that a low blow, to you? Cause I’d say saying it was her fault was a pretty low fucking blow— Kinda below the belt shit, if you ask me—”

“What?”

A silence louder than anything either of them have ever heard hangs in the air.

“Fuck you mean what?”

“I said what?” Carmen’s spit still feels like glass, he is destroying his throat. “What—What did I say?”

Stunned, Richie is stunned. And he can’t tell if Carm’s lack of cognizance in the situation makes him more or less angry. He’s pretty sure it’s more. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Cousin, what the fuck did I say to her?”

“You said she failed him.”

Yeah, Carmen’s gonna cry. Carmen is absolutely going to cry. Not weeping, but a tear. Just the one. Just the one, and the dry heaving. The dry heaving and just short of falling over, managing at the last minute to fall onto his rear. He slides his back against the full length window of The Bear. All the guests will get to witness his full blown meltdown. Who fucking cares. He cards through his semi-matted hair, again— It’s not fucking working. It’s not working and he might as well tear his hair out because there’s no reason for it anymore if you're not in it.

“I am a monster.” Not said like a question, not said with emphasis, not choked. Completely monotone. Zero pulse. Said as a fact as simple as the sky is blue. And it is. Because now that he remembers that one thread, he can follow it back. “I am bullshit.”

It’s hard to kick someone, when they’re down. It’s hard to say all the things you want to say to a person, when they’re just saying it about themselves. Richie just stares, debating his options. He could so easily choose to destroy what’s left of Carmen. Frankly, Carm’s sitting at the perfect angle to kick his fucking teeth in. Richie came out here with full intent of throwing Carmen through the window. Came out here with the full intent of proving he’s a fucking problem.

“...I don’t know how to fix it.” But Carmen looks up at him, with a never before seen level of humility. “How do I fix it?”

His best friend loved this guy, and unfortunately you also seem to be on the verge of loving this guy. And even more regrettably, Richie loves this guy. He shrugs, and to any onlookers, his response would seem to be lacking any level of empathy.

“Stop being you.”

“You don’t love me!”

“Of course we fuckin’ love you!”

“You don’t fucking love me!”

Like tidal waves, Richie and Mikey crash against either side of the walk-in freezer door. Mikey desperately trying to escape the freezer; you and Richie desperately trying to keep him in.

Your phone rings, in the middle of this. “Ah, shit, she’s calling back, hold on—” You slide your back off the door slowly, giving Richie time to place extra weight where your body was to keep it closed as Mikey relentlessly slams. He’s pivoted to screaming like— Well, a bear, now.

You move just a few feet away— Enough to fog up the yelling, but not enough that you couldn’t run back to Richie if his arms start to numb.

“Yo, T.” You answer, thankful that somebody has finally returned your fucking calls. To be fair, it’s painfully early— But how is no one awake an hour before they have to clock in? C’mon.

“We’re doing this because we love you, fuckin’ numb nuts!”

“Don’t be fuckin’ mean when he’s in a vulnerable state!” You kiss your teeth, yelling to Richie behind you, just as Tina tries to say hi.

“I am not a fucking patient, Chip!” Another slam, another violent jiggling of the door handle. You’re pretty sure that shit is going to break off one day, if he keeps doing that. You don’t know how right you are now, but you will in a year or so. “Open the fucking door!”

You only remember you’re on the phone with Tina when she pipes up, vaguely hearing the yelling on her end. “...Two week milestone going well?”

“Just fucking peachy, T.” You grimace, rubbing the space between your brows. “You think it’s healthy to lock him in the freezer? I feel like we are fucking this up.”

“Why’s he in the freezer?”

“Guess who was—” You turn your head to Richie, when you speak into the phone. “So fucking stupid— And left his fucking xanax just out in the open with his unfinished breakfast?”

“I apologized—” “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, Cousin! Now open the fucking door!”

“Yeah, I think freezer is the right call.” Says Tina; you’re both not sure if that’s true, but at the very least when he’s in there he can’t hurt himself or either of you. But fuck, he must be cold. Maybe that’s good for his nervous system? Every yell just mounts with guilt— But you’re his sponsor now. You are not his friend right now, you’re his mentor and you’re meant to do this. This is definitely— slam— the right thing—scream—to do.

“Yeah, probably.” You nod, to no one. “Well, basically, if you can let everyone know to just— Not fucking come in, today, or at the very least not come in for like— At least three hours. Maybe six. It’s not like you can work anyways, the freezer’s off limits until further notice.”

“You sure you don’t need us to come in?”

“Ah, T, that’s a nice thought but—” You wince, as you hear a crash from inside the walk-in. “I don’t know if it’s better or worse, for more people to witness this.”

Richie can tell what the crash is, because he himself has dropped shit an innumerable number of times in that walk-in before. “—Did you just knock over the fuckin’ stock—” “Fuck yourself! Fuck yourself! This is my fucking restaurant! Let me the fuck out, Richard!”

“Let’s just say call me back in three hours.” Is what you settle on. You don’t want to see this, and you don’t want anyone else to have to see this. And when Mikey eventually comes out of his rage state, he will be glad that the only two people that actually saw him like this, are his two closest friends. “Can you let everyone else know?”

“Yeah baby, I’ll let ‘em know.” First time Tina’s called you baby with sincerity instead of sarcasm, you wish you could savour it, but you’re so distracted with everything else that you really don’t even notice it. “Keep yourself safe too, alright?”

“Okay, Mama.” You reply with what is really only half sarcasm, and let her go. You sidle up to Richie, back on holding the door closed duty. Backs against the walk-in door, holding Mikey in, despite punch after punch after punch. He’ll wear himself out, eventually, but you’re terrified about how long that’s going to take. So is Richie.

He nods to your phone. “How long?”

You don’t need to check to know. “In six hours, he’ll be at two weeks.” You wince as one of Mikey’s hits against the door very directly targets your back, putting it in knots. “But it’s not like he’s suddenly going to go, oh well it’s been two weeks so I’m normal now, though.”

Richie just nods, pensive. “M’sorry.”

You shake your head. “I was just bein’ a bitch, we’re all getting used to it, I gettit, just try to be safer.”

He nods again, looking down at you as the beating seems to slow down. Richie tries to imagine a world where you two aren’t here right now; for some reason, he finds that universe more miserable. “We’re so fucked.” Because here it’s you two. You’re so fucked but it’s you two. It will take more than a year for you to figure out that’s how Richie feels.

“I know.” You punch back against the door, alerting Mikey— Not that he wasn’t already alert, and speak to both of them. “Same team, though!”

One last resounding body slam into the door, with everything Mikey has— It moves, just a bit, but not at all enough to open it. And then, a long silence. To the point where you and Richie look at each other, worried if Michael has somehow just died in there. But then a quiet voice speaks, like a white flag being raised.

“Same team.”

You look to Richie for permission, he’s just as clueless as you are here, as to what the right call is. With the most trepidation one could have, you put your hand on the handle and just start to pull on it, not even close to opening it. But Mikey notices the way the hinge moves by a hair, on the other side.

“Don’t open it.” You know he’s up to the door, just opposite of you. Not capable of looking at you; not capable of looking at him. “Six hours. It’s just six hours.”

But you can hear each other. And maybe that’s all you really ever needed. To be able to hear each other, even when he’s not here.

“Six hours. Same team.”

“I don’t know how.” Carmen’s nose twitches. “I don’t know how to stop being fucking��Garbage— I’ve tried—” “Have you?”

It’s a bit knife twisting, from Richie, but necessary. “Have you done the work? Cause it’s— I don’t think you have, Carm.”

“...What the fuck kinda work can I do, to fix me—?” Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen, interrupting him. “That— That is the exact fuckin’ problem with you, Cousin.”

Carmen almost rolls his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “What, that I’m self-aware?”

“That you just fuckin’ give up.” “I don’t just give up—” “You do! You give up and you go wah, I’m a Chef with issues and I’m gonna make it everyone else’s fucking problem—” “I am asking for help—” “Are you? Because the last person that helped you just ran out crying.”

Richie exhales, eyes closed. There’s a long forced silence, as a few tables full of patrons exit The Bear, awkwardly shuffling past what is clearly a crisis between the people that have been serving them tonight.

“That was below the belt, I’ll admit.” Says Rich, once they’re out of earshot.

Carmen just shakes his head, though he cannot look at Richie, though he can’t refute anything.

Richie steps next to where Carmen sits, and like an olive branch, Carmen lifts up his arm to offer his cigarette. Richie accepts, thank God— Thank you, for softening him up, because if you hadn’t, again, Carmen would be going headfirst through the fucking window right now.

“Don’t yell ‘t me—” That honestly hurts more than getting thrown through a window. “But I don’t think you got Andrea, at all.”

Andrea? Oh. “Chef Terry?” The Ever’s owner, Richie means.

“Andrea.” Richie nods, taking a puff. “Every second counts— I don’t think you got it.”

Carmen just shrugs, shaking his head, sure, he worked there for years and Richie worked there for days, but sure, he’s the one that didn’t get it. “Yeah? What’d I miss?”

“It’s not meant to make you fuckin—” He gestures to the general form of Carmen. “Tweak. It’s not about speed or— or— like firin’ off on all fuckin’ cylinders.”

“Then what is it?”

“It counts because it counts.” Richie hands the cig back to Carmen. “It’s— The fucking—” He kisses his teeth, trying to figure out the best way to explain. “When you took like, a million goddamn years to make that fuckin’ mont— Mont— What was it?”

“Montmorency.” Your cherry sauce. Carmen spent too fucking long reducing it, yesterday. He redid it like five times. He’d redone it so many times the autopilot in his brain fucked up that fucking plate yesterday, and it threw his entire life into a spiral. No. That's not what happened. He threw his life into a spiral.

“That was worth it, cause it— Cause it took time. Does that— Am I making any fuckin’ sense? Terry did this shit better, fuck.” Richie rubs a hand over his face, you’d probably be able to explain this better too. “It’s not the thing you’re doing that makes it count, it counts because you’re doing it.”

The value is in the time, not what is delivered. It does not need to be the most special, hyper condensed, hyper focused, upper echelon second to count. It will count because it counts. Time spent is worth it, no matter what was bought. Every second you spend, will always count. All the work and the not work and the love and the not love— It all counts. It counts because it counts. You care therefore you care. Any effort made is good effort.

Why does Carmen keep taking eons to learn what you are always trying to tell him?

The door opens, again. Instead of more patrons, Syd steps out— Wondering where the fuck her Exec and Host have gone. “Are we good?”

“No.” Says her Exec and Host. She nods, that’s good, cause she’s not good either.

“Who’s runnin’ house?”

“No one.” Lies Syd, Tina’s running the back, Sweeps is running the front, but she wants to freak Carmen out a little. She grabs the cigarette from Richie. “Burn the money, I say.”

“So, what you’re asking me to do— If I’m understanding, correctly, which— I might not be— You want me to take all my money, okay, and place it in a fucking furnace? Is that right?”

“So I’m sensing—” You curl your hand in the air. “A touch of hostility, which is fair.”

Bargaining with Uncle Jimmy isn’t the easiest thing in the world— Especially when this is your first time meeting him— And you’re begging him for money. Well, helping Mikey beg him for money.

“Listen, Uncle, please.” Mikey swallows, leaning in, elbows on the table. It’s nearly the end of January. New year, fresh start. No better time to pitch a half-baked pipe dream in the middle of The Beef’s dining room. “It’s not like I’m brand new to the restaurant gig— We turn profit, here, we can fuckin’ pay people.”

“Can you pay me?” “We will—” “Or you could just let me cut my losses—” “I wanna do something real, Uncle.”

“Why’s she here, again?” You shrink, when Cicero points at you. You swallow.

“I’m here as… Proof… That he wants to do something real.” You have to stop yourself from doing jazz hands, doubling down on the awkwardness will not make it go away, that is sadly not how that works.

Jimmy stares, for a moment, the cogs in his brain almost audibly whirring, as he stares at the space between you and Mikey, where you sit, at the other side of the booth. “Are you having a fuckin’ baby or somethin?”

The visceral reaction from your side of the booth is immediate. The worst part is he’s not even the first one to ask something like this— No, the manager at Wells Fargo was.

“What the fuck!” “Come on, Uncle…” “Do I— Do I look like a Milf, what the fuck is going on—” “She could be my daughter!” “Alright— So that is a little far, but the sentiment—”

“Alright, shut the fuck up, what is so fucking real that I’m suddenly going to hack up—”

Mikey tosses his necklace onto the table. It shouldn’t be physically possible, because it’s on a string, but it still manages to roll for a comically long time, like a coin, over to Jimmy. To thine own self be true. One Month.

“You will not be giving your money to some fucking junkie, Uncle��”

You wave a hand, interrupting Mikey. “Verbiage.”

He swallows and nods, taking the note. A hard lesson to learn. “You will not be giving your money to— To— You— You’re gonna give your money to someone who is trying, alright?”

Uncle Jimmy hasn’t looked up from the chip since it landed; Mikey continues. “And— And I’m gonna bring Carmy on, and we’re gonna do like—Like high level shit. Like a real fuckin’ Michelin level—”

“How many times have you gotten to a month?”

“First time.”

Jimmy frowns, crossing his arms. “How many times have you tried getting to a month?”

“Five.” Michael says, “Six.” you correct. Christmas was hard. Christmas was extremely fucking hard. You weren’t with the Berzattos, upon Mikey’s request— And neither was Carmen, upon Mikey’s ignoring him completely. And that made things a little fucking hard.

Jimmy just nods, arms still crossed. He’s forming some sort of plan, in his head, you’re just not sure what it is yet. He looks to you. “So you’re his sponsor, then?”

“Yessir.” “Do you feel qualified to do that?” “No-sir.”

Mikey kicks you under the table, your proclivity for honesty is not doing a great job selling this whole restaurant idea. You kick him back. “I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel qualified.”

“You sober?” “Not really.” “Well that’s kind of a key factor, I’ve heard.”

You sigh and lean forward, putting your hands in your lap. This is Mikey’s Uncle— Well, is he, actually? Unsure. But he gives as much of a fuck as you do, so you spill your guts, because you know he’s poking because he’s worried that some kid is taking care of Mikey and it’s the blind leading the fucking blind.

“I’m stable. I drink, sometimes— But never more than one glass, and never multiple days in a row. I’m coming up on a year, I still attend A-A— Though not as often as I’m told I should— And I’ve told Mikey that turbulent month long benders and a full blown decade long opioid addiction are not the same thing and I really shouldn’t be his sponsor.”

Mikey leans forward as well, then, meeting your level. “And I told Chip— And our coord— That I won’t do the program without her.”

After a long moment of silence, taking his time to digest every bit of information, Jimmy nods to the folder on the table. “N’ this?”

“It’s like a… Proposal?” You look to Mikey for help, he shrugs. This motherfucker— You’re not even a stakeholder in this, why are you talking? You turn back to Jimmy. “It’s like a promise.”

You open the folder, there’s loose sketches you’ve put together of The Bear’s signage, plus Carmen’s original piece— It was fun and weird, to work off of an artist you’ve never met before. There’s also cut outs from the New York Time’s and Food and Wine magazine showing off his award winning talents.

“We make money now.” Mikey finally chimes in, crossing his arms. “Imagine what we could do with him.”

“It would be cool!” You wingman. A little too excited for someone who’s never even breathed in a Michelin restaurant. “It’d be cool to have, like, a fine-dining establishment on North Orleans.”

“Or you’d completely cut out the audience that already likes The Beef.”

Mikey defends, “The people don’t know what they like, yet.” while you spread out some more papers across the table, showing off screenshots of food Carmen’s texted, that Mikey has never replied to. “They will like this shit— It’s— It’s art, Uncle. When they see this, they won’t give a shit about sandwiches.”

“They’ll give a shit about the price.”

“Uncle, I’m the guy.” Mikey uncrosses his arms, straightening up his posture, because now it’s serious. “I can— We can do this.”

As you continue to spread out papers, Uncle Jimmy stops you, seeing a peculiar page in the pile. He points to it, so you fish it out and hand it to him. He squints. “Joint bank account?”

You nod. “It’s so I can keep an eye on his spending and withdrawals.” Mikey tries not to wince at the fact a kid is in charge of managing his finances. You try not to wince at the fact that despite managing his finances, he's still reset six times.

“Y’know banks are a fuckin’ scam, right?”

You do not entertain Jimmy for a second, finally losing your whimsy. Your leg is shaking underneath the table— Thank God these tables are bolted. “I know that this is the first time in twenty years that my best friend is keeping savings.”

Not just living paycheck to paycheck, anymore. Not spending every penny on painkillers, anymore. Mikey is saving up because now there is a future to spend it on. Cicero swallows, nodding, eyes looking down, thinking deeply.

When he speaks again, it’s to say the most insane thing you’ve ever heard. “Ten grand a week.”

Your reply is in sync with Mikey, both jumping forward in your seats. “What?”

“Every week.” Jimmy pushes the chip back to your side of the table. “Every week that you keep going, that’s ten grand.”

You flail your hand under the table, grabbing for Mikey’s— He does the same, and it’s like a contest for who’s going to break who’s hand first, with how hard you’re holding each other.

Mikey’s first to ask the question, “Is that… Starting now or starting since I—”

“I’m so glad you asked, fuck no, that’s starting now.” He points to you, now. You flinch. “You’re gonna piss test him every fuckin’ week. I’m not fucking around about this.”

“Right. Heard.” You can only nod, because if you express anything else, it might just be screaming forever and ever. He pivots back to Mikey.

“And it’s gonna be cash— It’s not going in that fuckin’ joint, aright?” “Heard.”

“...Alright. Deal.” Cicero comes forward in his seat, and shakes Mikey’s hand. And despite not being a stakeholder, he reaches for yours, too; you shake it, and after a moment, he ruins this excitement stirring in the room, moving out of the booth. “I gotta piss, now.”

When he leaves for the bathroom, Mikey leans his head to you, putting his chin on your shoulder, whispering, “Art of the deal.”

You push his face away immediately, laughing. “Shut the fuck up! Why did you make me lead that shit!?”

Tomorrow Mikey will relapse again, and you’ll reset his necklace for the seventh time, but you don’t know that yet. Carmen’s gonna be so excited, when he finally comes back to Chicago and gets a sober brother and his dream restaurant. You’re excited to meet the guy, one day. Fingers crossed he likes you.

“That was fucking nuts.” Sydney decides that’s the best way to surmise it. “Like more than usual.”

“I’m aware.” Carmen can only nod, and despite the fact that he’s just going to lie down and take this, it does not remove the bitter feeling in her heart at all. Syd’s fucking mad, and she wants him to know.

“I’ve— I’ve literally only ever seen her cry like, like during Pixar movies or when we graduated. Like she just— That’s not a thing she does. I, I’m so— I literally don’t know what the fuck to do, right now.” For a second, she thinks her vision is flickering. “Oh my god, am I finally having a stroke?”

The three restaurateurs look up to see their neon white logo of a bear’s head, flickering and occasionally buzzing out. Richie’s the first to speak, as they all blankly stare at it. “Who are we gonna call, f’this?”

If this was yesterday, or maybe even if this was an hour ago, it wouldn’t be a question as to who they’d call. Carmen scratches the back of his head, the flaking hair gel is getting itchy. “Ted?”

“Who’s Ted?” Asks Syd; that’s not Tony, Terry or Tommy.

“Ted Fak.” Richie and Carmen answer at once, she almost gasps.

“They’re multiplying?”

Richie rolls back into his memory. “There’s eight— No, fuck, nine of them— I always forget Avery.”

Sydney just nods and hugs her shoulders for warmth. They all keep staring at the flickering bear, like moths.

“I don’t—I don’t have anyone, except her, y’know?” Syd sniffs. “Like after my dad, it’s— it’s literally just her. She’s my best and only friend.”

Carmen presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, “Heard.”

“I don’t want to choose between her and my career.” Carmen thinks she’s pausing, so he waits, but she’s not talking. That was the end of the sentence.

“Heard.”

“If that’s what getting a star takes, I don’t want it.” That’s huge. That’s a big statement, from Syd of all people. That gets the men to turn their heads from the light to her.

Syd continues to stare at the flickering bear, which lights up the two single straight streams of tears perfectly. It’s silent. She’s not snivelling or anything, she just shakes her head in tight swivels, biting her inner cheek. “It’s just— it’s just not worth that.”

“How can I fix it?” Maybe Syd will have a better answer than Richie did, something a little more actionable. She finally flits her gaze from the light down to Carmen, where he sits.

“Can you stay after close?”

“—Nobody in this motherfucking city knows transit etiquette— Why does everyone get on and go ‘wow I love standing in the walkway’— I’m so— There was so much seating just ahead of the blockage, Mikey, I’m so pressed, I’m literally—” You massage your brows, finishing up your rant from this morning’s commute. “I can’t. I can’t.”

“If you weren’t a little passenger princess, this wouldn’t be a problem, Chippy.” “I have my fucking license! I just don’t have a car!” “Then buy one!” “With who’s money!?” “Mine?”

A terrible running joke, from Mikey, is telling you to spend his money— The money he gets from staying sober. The money he’s saving for The Bear. The reason why he thinks this is funny, is because you have no fucking idea where he’s been putting it. But you know he hasn’t spent it, so that’s all that really matters.

You just huff, leaning back against the wall of his office as you watch him work, arms crossed and cringing as he futzes with the wiring. “You’re going to light us up like a Roman fucking candle.”

“It’s Jewish lightning—” “Top twenty-thousand reasons we do not say that— Number One—” “It’s gonna work! Just trust me!”

Mikey’s office looks a lot more lively, lately. He never cleans up the mugs of coffee you give him, every morning. He says it’s his way of tracking which flavour is his favourite, since you’re always switching up. It will never change from the chai spiced blend, and you both know that. It’d be more accurate of him to say he likes the sticky notes you tack on to each mug, saying you love him and saying he needs to keep going.

“I could fix it, y’know.” At that, Mikey turns away from his distressing handiwork to look at you.

“I know. But I wanna prove I can, too.”

That hits you right in the chest. You want to tell Mikey that he never has to prove anything, with you; never has to lift a goddamn finger. But he would hate to hear that. “Okay.”

You hear from outside the office, the back door opening. “Child incoming, no expletives please!”

“What the fuck is an expletive?” Mikey asks you, whispering.

You whisper back, leaning forward off the wall to close in on him. “It’s what you just did.”

Eva runs in, the way that kids do— The way they kinda waddle. Immediately up to you and Mikey. Uncle Mike and Aunty Chip, she calls you both. Sometimes Uncle Jack— Because she hasn’t completely grasped the concept of gender yet— Good, no one should.

“Watch!” You have yet to even say hi, before she immediately attempts to do a cartwheel in the middle of this very small office.

“Good job, Evie!” You clap, after she just barely lands safely on her shins.

She nods, “Can you do that?”

“Honestly? I don’t think I can.” You look up from her to Mikey. “Can you?”

“Can I cartwheel?” He stumbles back, slapping his hand over his chest. Gutted. “Can I cartwheel? Eve— She doesn’t think I can cartwheel.”

“Insane, Uncle.”

“Not what I said!” You can’t hold back your laughter, what a shining this kid has taken to her dad. “I’d love to see it, I really would!”

Mikey just shakes his head, kissing his teeth. How dare you offend his honour, in this way? This forty-two year old man can absolutely cartwheel with the best of them. In five minutes he definitely isn’t gonna eat shit in the dining room of his restaurant. He pats Eva on the shoulder. “You go with your dad and clear out some tables out front, I’m gonna need space.”

“You’re gonna break your neck, Mike.” Richie chimes in, standing in the doorway now, waiting for Eva to return to him. “I don’t wanna plan your funeral.”

“Please, you would plan a terrible funeral.” “That’s bull—”

“Expletive!” You cover Eva’s ears. She just laughs, looking up at you with that cute and bizarre blank kid stare. What a little patoot.

Richie looks to you, forgetting the bit for a moment, “Y'need a grocery run, tonight?”

You nod, removing your hands from Eva, but then she holds them there. Goddamnit, kids are an awful idea but she's fucking cute. “Pay you gas money in the form of Wendy's?”

“Marone!” Richie exclaims, poorly, grabbing your face by the chin and top of your head to kiss your cheek just short of a million times. “The perfect woman—”

“Not Italian!” is the synchronous reply from you and Mikey.

Richie rolls his eyes, “Not Italian— Fu—”

Eva interrupts him, taking as much as a shining to you as she does her father. “Exp—Expultive!” She looks at you for approval and you nod in delight.

“Just go set up front, would ‘ya?” Mikey brushes Rich off, the man just rolls his eyes, picking up his daughter from you to fly her off like an airplane.

“Let's set the stage for your Uncle’s neck injury, sweets. Bwwwwrrr—” Richie makes good airplane noises. Richie’s a good dad. You will never find a good time to tell him this. You watch Mikey’s back flex, as he cracks back into the hole of wires in the wall. He's been working hard on a lot of little things lately.

You will not realize he is trying to make things clean and square, until it is too late. Right now, you’re just happy, because, “You’re already at three weeks again, and you haven’t even noticed.”

“Oh, I fucking noticed.” He doesn’t face you, when he says it, but it’s with a hearty chuckle. He’s noticed it violently, he’s just getting very good at the first month, now— Well acquainted with the burn out. “But now there’s money on the line, I can’t lose.”

It’s not that money’s on the line. It’s that his brother is on the line now. And Mikey couldn’t do this for himself— but the guy could do it for his brother. So he’ll just be the guy, that’s what the guy’s do. Six hours, same team. Nine weeks, Mikey, come on.

“Well you’re doing good, I’m proud of you.”

“You believe in me?” He says it like he doubts your conviction. You nearly punch him in the back of the head.

“Of course I believe in you.”

Mikey bites his inner cheek, though you can’t see his face. “...Why are we keeping the candles?”

Ah. You’ve still got the one and two candles in his drawer with a lighter, ready for the next cupcake. They’re slowly but surely melting with each reset, eventually they’ll be incomprehensible. Do you believe in me? If you do, why are you saving them? Do you think we’ll need them? That’s what Mikey’s asking. You scoff.

“You’re so stupid.” “What the— I confide in you and I get this—”

You interrupt him, arms crossed. “One day, one week, one month, one year, fuckin— When we get to double digits? Ten months? One decade?”

He’s mum, at that. You add. “We’re getting our fucking mileage out of these candles, Mikey. I believe in you.” You think Mikey has a future, still. Mikey knows he doesn’t. He changes the subject because if he doesn’t, he’ll tell you everything and you will stop it.

“I want you to start talking to Carmen, when he comes back.” You should’ve asked Mikey why he was so certain Carmen would be coming back. But you weren’t smart enough.

“What the fuck?” You snort. “Okay, out of literally nowhere—” “You’d like him.”

“He sounds very nice.” “He’s not. He’s a—” “Ball buster, yes, you’ve told me.” “He’d like you.” “Why?” “Cause you’re you.”

“Wow, pretty inarguable there.” You can only smile, unable to see the wheels turn in Michael’s head. “Guess we’ll be besties.”

“I meant talk like talk—” “Are you trying to hook me up right now?” “He’s a virgin, so it’s definitely not a good deal for you—” “And— And why are we talking about your brother's sex life— Did we already explode and this is hell?” “I just want you to be prepared for what you’re getting into, he gets performance anxiety so—” “Mikey!”

“You’ll talk to him?” Mikey turns away from the wall, wanting you to look him in the eyes and promise him.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, but stick a hand out for the Berzatto to shake. “Yes, Bear, I’ll talk to your virgin Michelin star ranked brother.”

“Thank you! I ask for so little.”

After close, after everyone but Carmen, Sydney, and Richie leave, the three make plans to meet in Michael’s office. Carmen will go in ahead to hide your folder because he doesn’t want to see it himself and he absolutely doesn’t want anyone else to see it. Even if one of them could very well explain it, because he’s fucking in them. It’s fine. He looks at your wrapped up painting in the corner of his office. Carmen considers for what feels like a decade, whether or not he should open it. But he hasn’t earned a gift from you, so he doesn’t— Not for now, at least. He hasn’t earned your art right now.

Underneath your ICE folder is his notepad— The one he was scribbling recipes for his Exec into, the one he scribbled your recipe into, and underneath all that torn up paper— His list, from this morning. The non-negotiable rules he wanted— Wants? To add to The Bear. There’s twenty-seven. Half of them are spelt wrong as he wrote them while absolutely losing his shit, this morning. This list did not go over well, when it was proposed during family, at two in the afternoon. Some of these could still work though, right? At least the technique and the boxes and the—

Richie comes in, not knocking, and immediately spots the list. “Oh good.” He grabs the notepad and rips off the twenty seven points. Leaving only the title, NON-NEGOTIABLES.

“Come the fuck on—” Says Carmen. Richie rolls his eyes, tossing the list onto the desk. Richie can tear him and his stupid fucking list a new one another time— Richie and Carmen can sort out their own part of the fight in a week, when they take a twelve hour road trip. Right now though, they are both completely focused on you.

Sydney comes in with two labelled deli containers of coke. Time codes and everything, she can't turn it off. She hands one to Rich, the other one is for herself. That’s fine, soda on Carmen’s shredded throat really wouldn’t be great right now anyways. She takes a sip, looking over Carm's shoulder. “Oh, we’re doing a real list, now?”

Carmen just sighs, letting the dig go, because he deserves it. He clicks his pen, sitting down, ready to write, without hesitation. “Go.”

Richie leads, “You need to fucking relax.”

“Lay off her,” Sydney waves her hand over her neck. “Leave her the fuck alone, for like a week, minimum.”

“No— What? No— You should call her like now—” “Absolutely not the right move—” “Solve it hard and fast—” “Why hard—?”

“I’m just gonna wait.” Carmen decides, typically Syd is the right one, anyways. Plus if he hears your voice right now he might throw up and he doesn’t have your tums, anymore. “Next?”

“An exorcism.” Richie doesn’t laugh, when he says it. “Also read fuckin’ Runnin’ on Empty— By Doctor Webb.”

The two cooks just look at him, like Richie’s grown five thousand heads. He groans before they even say anything. “I’m fuckin’ well read, shut the fuck up— It’s—” He snaps his fingers, pointing to Carmen’s list, “It’s an audiobook, too, on fuckin’ Spotify— Listen to that shit on your commute you have no excuse.”

“Yes, Chef.” Carmen writes it down, he also writes down under things to look into, catastrophizing, while he’s at it. Richie watches over his shoulder, and adds, “Look into sublimation and behavourial dysfunction.”

Syd’s still reeling over the sudden character growth. “You need to relax with the self-help books.”

“Yeah, well you need to read Mark Wolynn’s ‘It Didn’t Start With You.’” Richie’s got lists of books now, instead of zingers. They somehow hit harder.

She’s got no come back for that other than a surprised pout and nod, taking her own phone out to write it down. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmen pipes in, not looking up from his list of to dos “Should I also read that one—” “Yes.” “Heard, Chef. Next?”

“It cannot be on Tony to be your fucking punching bag. If you’re tweaking— Keep that shit between you and your therapist—” Syd switches from her notes app to search, “We’re finding you a fuckin’ therapist.”

“Is that covered in our contract?” Didn’t he write it? Carmen doesn’t know.

“Doesn’t matter. Also I don’t know, but doesn’t matter.” Syd hasn’t read it yet. She also doesn’t know.

You are worth a couple out of pocket fees. Well, more importantly, Carmen is worth a couple out of pocket fees— Well, alright, he’ll discuss his weaknesses of self-prioritization with the therapist.

Before Carmen can even say next, Richie adds. “Also you smell like shit.” The hair gel is pungent in a bad way.

And before he can defend himself, Sydney adds, not looking up from her phone, “We’re going to fuckin’ Kohl’s after this and we’re getting you a skincare— And haircare— routine. You’re seconds away from breaking out, I bet you use fuckin’ Palmolive dish soap.”

“Well— I’ve been using Tony’s, actually—” “We know.” It’s a completely synchronized interruption.

“It’s been her signature scent, since highschool.” “Who do you think took her grocery shopping when she didn’t have a car?” “I thought I was having a flashback everytime you walked by in the kitchen, this past week.” “You should go back to it.”

“I know. I will.” He’s got every intention of re-upping on your shampoo and conditioner, when he’s taken on a shopping spree to get his shit together. Hopefully you won’t mind him copying you. “No more Five in One.”

“You’ve been using fucking five in one!?”

Carmen thought, yesterday, naively, that he would do right by you on Friday. He didn’t, he did the very opposite— But even if he did, that’s weak shit. Carmen’s not gonna do right by you for just one single fucking day. Carmen’s gonna do right by you, for the rest of his life. The three get to well over twenty seven points, and he has every intention of showing up to it. He’s gonna be your man, and he’s going to fucking earn that title. He’s going to prove it.

“Okay. So can you tell me what happened on February 22nd?” She’s a shit therapist. You’re imagining both you and her dead in your head. You’ve been imagining a lot of people dead in your head, for the last two weeks. Every time your dad comes to check on you, you imagine that he’s a ghost.

You imagine having a passing conversation with someone, maybe catching up with Syd, one day. And she’ll ask you ‘Meet any interesting people?’ and you’ll say ‘Yeah. But he killed himself.’ That’s gonna suck. You didn’t prepare for that one. So you need to prepare now. Look at all of your friends and family, and imagine they are dead— And introduce them as such. ‘That’s my friend Richie, he died.’ Make it hurt now, so it doesn’t hurt then.

You didn’t prepare enough. Didn’t do enough. Countless little mistakes and moments you missed. The therapist is looking at you, oh right, it’s your turn to talk again. You’ve told her all these cute little stories but now she wants to hear how the sad shit went. Or maybe it was all sad shit. Maybe it’s all coated in a film of grief, now.

You’ll tell her that Mikey was very thorough, with his plan that you didn’t know about. He waited until he thought you were out of the city— When he knew you’d be out of the city. When your sister in law delivered your nephew and you went to Oak Park to visit.

Just days before, you celebrated three months of sobriety with him and Richie— You’ll tell the therapist, excitedly, that this was his longest streak so far, it took him a year to reach three months— It was a big fucking deal. You were beaming all day. You didn’t realize, however, that days after Uncle Jimmy had made his deal with you two, that Mikey did the math. Figured out exactly how many weeks he’d have to be sober, to get three-hundred grand.

Thirty weeks. Roughly seven months and two weeks. He did it. Not in sequence, but he did it. You’re still not sure where that money is. Uncle isn’t either. Maybe Carmen will figure it out. It’s meant for him anyways. You’ll say that Carmen will figure it out in such a way that she asks— “And do you hold animosity? Towards his younger brother?”

You look at her like she’s a psycho, because she is. Replying incredulously, “I don’t fucking know him.”

‘My best friend Michael is dead.’ ‘My best friend, Mikey, is dead.’ Doesn’t sound right. Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.

“Do you wish you did?”

“I really couldn’t say I give a shit, ma’am. Can I tell you about the guy I did know, though?”

She nods, you roll the fuck on. You tell her that the morning after you got to your brother’s place— February 22nd, you all decided instead of staying for the week, as you’d planned, as Mikey planned, you’d instead go home early. Because as much as you wanted to be helpful, having more people in the house was stressing the new mom the fuck out. Understandable. So you took a train back to Chicago early.

You got home, and you found that you’d gotten some mail, waiting for you on the floor, shoved through the mail slot of your door. Bill, bill, invoice, spam, coupons, handwritten envelope— Ah. Mikey’s handwriting. A deep unsettling feeling burrowed its way into you. It just says For Chip. There’s no letter inside. No. There’s a debit card, his, of your joint bank account, there’s a key, yours, a copy of your key to this apartment, and a necklace, his— With his three month sobriety chip hanging off of it.

You call him, immediately. He doesn’t answer the first time. You call him again. He answers on the last possible ring.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life— Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call with an old friend.

“Yo, Ice-y!” A classic nickname, reserved purely for phone calls with Mikey. Because in his phone, you’re 0ICEChip, so you’ll show up at the top of his contact list, if he’s ever found unresponsive. Typically a pro-tip reserved for those in hospice care.

You don’t entertain him. “Where are you?”

“I’m just out for a walk, sweetheart.” “Shut the fuck up out for a walk— Where the fuck are you?”

He hums at your snarky tone. “Nephew didn’t take a liking to you?” “I came home early.”

The silence is long, and you can hear the heavy wind coming through his phone. He’s outside. He’s somewhere outside. It’s a cold night. It’s usually not this cold at the end of February, but it really fucking came down, this morning.

“Oh.”

“Why did you leave this shit at my door? Where are you?” You thought of 0ICE but you didn’t think to have him turn his location on? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot. You didn’t do enough. ‘My friend, Bear, is dead.’ You didn’t prepare enough. “Bear, c’mon, what’s going on? I told you, if we need to reset, it’s two steps forward, one step back, it’s okay—”

“It’s not.” “It is! We will get there!” “I’m not. You’re gonna get there, I’m not.” “That’s not true!” “I love you but we both know this was a pipe dream.”

“Mikey—”

“Chip, I’m not going anywhere. You’re— You’re fucking going somewhere. I can’t— I can’t let— We both know where I’m going and it’s nowhere you should begin to be.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me. You don’t get to make that call. I decide what I bet on— Mikey, where are you?” You’re walking out of your place, you hadn’t even closed the door before leaving again.

Fucking idiot, you should’ve bought a car. How are you supposed to get to him on foot and train? Fucking idiot. The snow is beating down, the wind is cutting into your face. ‘My best friend died on February 22nd. On the State Street Bridge.’— Why didn’t you get a fucking car? You didn’t do enough. You can’t remember any of your training, right now. What are you supposed to say? “Are you using?”

“No. No. I’m— This is me, Chip.” “No it’s fucking not, Mikey! Shut the fuck up, where are you!?”

“I love you, I didn’t want this to be— I-I—I’m not killing myself, Chip.”

“You’re not?”

You shouldn’t have believed him. You should’ve just kept walking. You would’ve figured out where he was, eventually. You should’ve called the coast guard, or some shit. Should’ve just figured it out.

“I’m not. I’m— I’m okay, I’m really just going for a walk— I-I just— I had a… I— I don’t want you to be my sponsor anymore. That’s it.” It made sense. He didn't want you to feel hurt, so he was hesitant. It made sense.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re a kid, and I can’t make you responsible for what I do.”

“I’m not a kid.” “To me, you are.” “Then we’ll find you someone else.” “Yeah, okay.”

You pause, for a good bit, listening to the shakiness of his breath. “You’re cold, Mikey.”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re just cold.” That’s all that’s wrong. He’s just cold and he doesn't want you to be his sponsor anymore. “Go inside, soon. Come home.”

“I will.”

Mikey always had that way of making you think everything was going to be okay, even when it wasn’t. “Okay.”

“I want you to start treating our joint like an advanced payment, by the way. A million things are always fucking breaking at The Beef, there’s no point in wiring all the time.”

Mikey wants this to be clean and square, too. Because he couldn’t figure out the wiring by himself— He needs to make sure his baby brother is taken care of, he needs to make sure his restaurant is taken care of, he needs to make sure that you have something to do because Michael fucking saw you.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You nod to no one. “I think your toilets fucked, speaking of.” You laugh, everything’s okay. There’s a long silence, and you think he’s hung up.

“Good. Okay— You should— You should come fix it, sometime soon… Love you, Chip.”

“Love you, Bear.”

You will tell your therapist that after that phone call, you went back inside, cleaned yourself up, unpacked unused toiletries, changed out of your borrowed brother’s sweats into your nice pajamas, because Mikey said he would come home. He said he would come home and you believed him because he never lied to you before. You set up the things he left for you in your handmade clay dish tray; so he can take them back. Just because you’re not his sponsor, doesn’t mean he shouldn’t keep his chips.

You will tell your therapist that you fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Michael. You will tell her you woke up to a phone call from Richie, and all he said, wavering, was, “You should come over.” Richie doesn’t ask things. Richie will always say, come over. You don’t know why that’s the signal you get, since you seemingly must have missed so many other obvious signs, but you know then that your— Your— Your best— Fuck, the knots are fucking debilitating, fuck fuck fuck.

You will not come over. You will walk, in the cold, to your dad’s place. You will not bring anything with you. You will stay there and rot for two weeks, as will everything in your apartment. He will force you to go to this several hour long therapy appointment because he can’t keep watching you do this, and you will resent the woman you are telling all this.

You will continue to see her, for five more sessions, because the first six are covered under your insurance. She will help in a lot of ways, she will hurt in others.

Wells-Fargo will ask if you want to close your account. You don’t want to, but it’ll accrue monthly banking fees, so you take the money out and close it. You buy a shitty maroon 2004 Dodge Intrepid off Facebook Marketplace with the two and a half grand. It barely functions as a car. But it will drive. The next time someone needs you. You can drive. Next time you’ll think of everything, next time you won’t fail.

You stop paying the phone bill, for your business line. It goes defunct. You just don’t think you should be trusted to be helpful, for the next little while. You will blame your father for this, when people ask about it.

On the day of his funeral, you will go. You will go, and you will sit on the curb across from the church, and you will not go inside. It's just not possible. You will buy a pork chop-cheese sandwich from a bodega nearby and you will eat it on that curb and it’s only then, after shoving it down for so long, that you will scream and cry.

You will leave before anyone sees you, and you will go to State Street Bridge, and you will set up a small vigil. You will finnick with the candles and the flowers until you feel they are perfect. They will never get perfect. You just don’t want to leave. You have a tendency to do that.

You will stare at the little stuffed bear, the roses, the picture frame of him, and you will finally say it aloud.

“My best friend, Mikey, died.”

When Carmen shows up, two hours later, not honestly that long after you finally left, he will add a bouquet and a prayer candle. He will readjust all of your work, to his preference, and then readjust it again and again and again— and he will finally say it aloud.

“My brother, Mikey, shot himself.”

No matter how you say it, it won’t roll off the tongue.

And about thirty-nine weeks from that day, you will be in New York, at a wedding, talking with the virgin Michelin star ranked brother, as you promised.

You will have abandoned your bar after making confessions under the counter, and have instead co-opted the single stall gender-neutral bathroom to have ample time and space to tell each other everything you’ve told your therapists. Even now, neither of you can get the words to roll off the tongue.

But Carmen manages to make “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry— I will never be able to surmise, how sorry—” roll off well enough. Alas, he’s interrupted, by a knock on the gender-neutral bathroom door, made by the only fuckers that knows you two are in here.

“Guys I— Guys I don’t know how to run bar, and I don’t think I should’ve been trusted, with this.”

Carmen will not look away from your bleary-eyed face, he will not break his focus even when you laugh at the sudden tension break. He will just tell the Faks to fuck off and figure it out.

“I’m gonna fix it.” Carmen will tell you, and you will nod and say, “I will too.”

Because it’s not just on one of you, anymore. It can be both. The shared burden. The shared grief. No more fucking shoes, because it's all out now.

It’s not negotiable.

I love when tumblr drafts fully start to lag and my macbook lights on fire because the post is too fucking long. I have so much to say about this chapter but I think I will just make a separate post entirely about this. Because I’m. I’m really proud tbh not to toot my own horn but I think I kind of maybe a little bit ate with this one.

Fun fact, that you may or may not believe: The Carmen scenes? Not planned. Fully did not plan to do any of that. This was going to be entirely Mikey flashbacks, originally— There might’ve ended up being more honestly, if I didn’t add Carmen, but after Something to Do when I started writing I was like,,, these cats aren’t cooking, Carmen’s side is missing a second beat before the third. And so, here it is.

I know everyone was expecting a depression week for Carmen— And to be fair, I also kind of was. But I then thought, nah. They’d done too much work, and I don’t think Rich/Syd would allow him to wallow. Like get your shit together, not for you, for her. Ugh.

Speaking of Rich and Syd— FUCK man my heart. The way their scenes from the past and present meshed together in such a deeply painful way I’m sooo SICK WITH IT!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!! Just fuckin— The way Tony was too scared to reach out to Syd but it’s SO FUCKING OBVIOUS that Syd was on the other side of Chicago thinking the exact same shit i’m SO SICK!!!!! I’M HACKING UP A LUNG HERE!!

Anyways it’s my birthday send me well wishes and an essay on what you thought I’d love to hear it. I know this was a tough one. Thank you for getting through it with me lmao. Tag list! Hope I didn’t forget anyone, pwease note i ownwee add pweople who swend theiw twoughts— It also may or may not hurt my feelings when people don’t read this text at the bottom. It might. It might a lot.

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #mikey berzatto #michael berzatto #carmen x oc #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear hulu #the bear fx

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imliterallyf7ckin9crazy · 10 days ago

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꧁⋆°𝓢𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓭 𝓖𝓪𝓶𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼°⋆꧂

Specifically the men :>

Characters: player 001 (in-ho), player 230 (thanos), and player 124 (nam gyu)

Warnings: squid game shit, gn reader, includes general head canons and relationship ones. Some are more toxic than others…. This is also to help understand the characterization I use for the characters in other fics lol

ᎮᏝᏗᎩᏋᏒ 001

- I have few appropriate things to say

- first off, we all know this man has money and thus I feel like he would have a large car collection that he just doesn’t get around to driving

- rarely able to get drunk. Not that he can drink, it just takes a lot to get drunk

- manipulative without even trying. Though he knows danm well what he’s doing it’s effortless for him.

- has no empathy. Or it’s complicated, he has empathy but it’s conditional. He can seem like cares but chances are it won’t last long, and wasn’t very genuine in the first place

- this is random but I think he is a morning person. Not just a normal morning person, a 4 am wake up person. A time he will likely not be bothered, a time he can take his time. Think about all the things he has to do. The planning, the hiding. He finally gets real time to think.

- CLEARLY obsessive. He be staring at gi hun like he want that cookie so damm bad. Season two squid game was built for him practically by in-ho. meticulously.

- safe to say once he wants something he gets it.

- unfortunately he obviously sees the poor as less than. I think it would take a nearly impossible life changing event for that to change.

Relationship wise:

-evil.

- let’s be so real here, he is not the best choice. Very attractive and silly, but terrible as a person

- he says himself he knows he’s a likable fellow, he’s willing to use that. To worm his way right into your heart. Make you think “wow, how charming” or “man, he’s so kind”. He knows how to use his seemingly harmless nature to root himself in your mind

- will buy you anything. One of his ways of manipulating you. He will yell at you, prioritize his “work” over you, scare you… just to make it up by a luxurious trip where he is finally nice to you. And you think “maybe he’s changed. I’ll give him another chance”

- you don’t even realize how many times you’ve said that.

- it’s not like you have a choice to leave anyway. He’s possessive. If you were to leave him, he wouldn’t let you. If you manage to get away he’s finding you and dragging you back. He will have you until he can’t anymore, you do not have much of a say. He’s woven himself deeply in your life.

- has his people watch out for you and protect you. Has people Solve problems for you before you recognize there is one. And you never even know

- let’s you sit on his lap while he watches the games.

- you have no friends, rarely talk to family, your life is basically his. And you have to be okay with that (or not)

- all his workers know you and you have full access to whatever you like (as long as it’s not interfering or messing up anything he has planned

-he work would probably come before you. Not to say he doesn’t care…. Just he has weird priorities

ᏢᏝᎯᎽᎬᏒ 230

- my dear thanos. Where do I begin

- clearly he has a drug problem. Serious pill addiction.

- goes into public absolutely GEEKIN off who knows what and insists no one can tell (they can)

- tried to be a plug but kept arguing abt prices with his clients so they stopped buying…

- as a famous rapper you know he has bitch AND hoes. A player who leaves a trail of broken hearts. Women and men bc I say so

- and also he just gives that vibe

- can’t manage money. Even when he wasn’t in debt bro cannot keep his dabloons in line. Drugs don’t help with that

- physically pretty strong. He can fight but it’s not like he’s gonna win every time

- actually really passionate about music. It truly means a lot to him and he worked for it. However over years he’s gotten frustrated with never having true privacy as a non celebrity would

Relationship wise:

- contrary to how I see people write him I personally think he wouldn’t be as mean in a relationship as some of the others

-and I think he would actually value you.

- I think he’d be pretty respectful with the ladies. He clearly appreciates a pretty girl.

- respectful might be a stretch. I mean verbally he wouldn’t like say crazy vulgar things. Nah he’d call you “flower” like that one girl or something

- he might be a bit rougher with the fellas out there. He’s pretty handy with his “bros” I’ll tell you that much.

- would write songs for and about you. They’d be cringe… in a nice way. Stupidest title and lyrics but hey! He made it just for you :3

- pre debt he’d definitely spoil you. Post losing all his money you’ll have to compromise. He sucks at telling you no so if you ask for something he might just steal it.

- people try to say he’d try to keep you from his drugs. I don’t think so. Realistically you’d probably end up doing some illegal substances with him

- might cheat in the early stages. Let’s be real. Those famous boys are almost never loyal. Butttt I think after he wouldn’t. Threaten to leave and he will see he really needs you

- never said he was perfect <3

ᏢᏝᎯᎽᎬᏒ 124

- MY SHAYLAAAA. Idc so many ppl hate him. I know, he’s objectively terrible. However I don’t care I think he’s silly so there

- another addict. Honestly heavier than thanos. He’s tried nearly everything under the sun. However as shown in show, herion is his vice.

- he’s a shady night club worker so I’d say he could probably fight.

- I see him as an introvert 90% of the time u til he’s around a close friend. He seems like he has some sort of manners and keeps to himself until he met thanos. And even then he didn’t really talk (nicely) to anyone else besides min-su (sometimes)

- can clock a bitch like no other. Will read you to filth. Be prepared to gain new insecurities around him

- seems like a cat guy. I feel it in my soul he pets every stray cat ever.

- has jitters. Be it he’s anxious, thinking, happy, or withdrawling his hands are constantly on the move.

- laughs at nothing. Do not do anything amusing in the area if something even slightly serious is happening. He’s ruining the mood and will not stop giggling abt it after.

- he does the sweater paws. Not a head canon just a viable fact but it needs to be said. Yes I know he’s a grown man with a dick and balls but it’s very baby girl of him

- has quite the violent streak. Was probably the worst bully in highschool. I can smell the semester suspension radiating from him

- would do probably anything for some drugs. Like anything. He’s seen and done some shit.

Relationship wise

- MY SHAYLAAAA

-evil lowkey

- he’s definitely difficult because he’s always on some H and it actually can make you more aggressive.

- still cares though I swear it’s just harder for him

- touchy asf. Constantly playing with your hands, poking your face, touching your hair. Bro MUST touch.

- possessive and jealous type. Will lash out about it. Or just start being mean to the people you talk to.

- kinda about that life. Because he’s in the night club scene he has definitely witnessed some real gang shit. Maybe even participated

- will protect you if you’re walking out in the street.

- has moments at night where he’s genuinely calm and able to talk about normal things. Not worried about work, scared about money, itching from drugs. Just him and you.

- you’re his safe area. Shit goes wrong he comes to you. He had a bad day? He’s coming to you. Bad trip? He’s with you.

- will care for you if you are going through a bad trip too. Or just scared, he gets it.

- kinda toxic sorry not sorry

- clearly a selfish guy, wants what he wants and tries to take it. He manipulates with saying cruel things with an angles smile. Might yell at you, lash out, etc. probably wouldn’t hit you though

- but he cares. In his weird, clingy, mean for no reason but doesn’t mean it way. He will stick with you. You both will yell and scream and cry at each other but at the end of every day you lay in each others arms. Very much a “us against the world” type relationship.

Yeah that’s all. This should help elaborate on future things I will write mwah ha ha.

#squid game x reader #squid game x you #squid game #thanos x reader #player 230 #front man x reader #in ho x reader #nam gyu x reader #player 124 #player 001 #x reader #squid game season 2

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octahyde · 2 months ago

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Ok actually one thing that really really bothers me about how widespread people are negatively reacting to the anime just for the fact that anime onlys are going to be in the fandom is like

This is going to make TWST so much more accessible

Like… not everyone can sit down for several hours and read a visual novel. It’s very time and focus intensive. Not everyone can read logs of the dialogue on wikis, either. There are several people who are unable to enjoy this story based solely on medium. A good example is my qpp; he loves TWST. He loves the story. He loves the characters. But he can’t get past Book 3 because the format is completely inaccessible to him. He’s tried. I’ve tried with him. He just… cannot do it. The novels are a godsend because it’s a way he can finally read the story in a format that works for him. The anime will also help a lot because he’ll be able to hear the voice acting, which is a very important part of TWST’s story telling.

Or even just in general, I don’t think I need to post about how I Like Horror, but I am unable to read anything longer than a short story. In particular, I am almost fully unable to read King because of how incompatible his writing style is- despite really wanting to. I have tried and failed to read Pet Sematery more times than I can count. The 80’s movie, though? I love it. It lets me experience a very important work to the genre in ways I would otherwise be completely unable to. Same with Misery.

Like… it’s super frustrating to see people advocate for story accessibility in things like video games, only to turn around and say “except for things I LIKE, they’ll get my favs wrong!!!” Especially when it’s in a fairly inaccessible medium.

I especially have a bone to pick with Idia fans I see on Twitter doing this. There’s a lot of fear “normies” will be ableist about their favorite cartoon character, while… in the process being extremely ableist to actual human beings. It’s extremely frustrating and upsetting to see people prioritize their (heavily mentally disabled, I might add) favorite fictional character over actual irl disabled people. I don’t think people, especially autistic people who can’t do VNs, should be limited from a beautiful story just because other people you can block Might Make Incel Jokes.

(My qpp? He’s autistic. And schizophrenic. And has CPTSD. He relates a LOT to Idia just from what I’ve told him about her and her arc.)

Like… get your fucking priorities straight. I was hyperfixated on Danganronpa when the DR1 anime came out. I was hyperfixated on Persona 4 when the P4 anime came out. Ace Attorney has been one of my absolute favorite series since middle school, and I was going through my obligatory hyperfixation phase I have every few years when the AA anime came out. I massively prefer the YuGiOh manga to the DM anime.

Anime onlys are EXTREMELY easy to avoid and are not the fucking end of the world.

Especially in a fandom with so many autistic people. Have some empathy for disabled people who have different symptoms than you do.

#this has been really bothering me as an Idia yume RAAAAAUGH not even getting into the convenient psychosis erasure everyone does with her.#Twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #i wish I could tag her like 4 times tbh #malleus draconia

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roryknightwrites · 9 months ago

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Reo Mikage is Actually Great BPD Representation- Some Thoughts

So I had the extremely unfortunate experience of being exposed to Blue Lock (unfortunate because it's all my tiny pea brain can think about now), and while it is absolutely full of silly guys whose brains I want to pick, this little bugger really stood out to me. The second he came onto the screen, I KNEW I smelled the borderline on him. As I watched the series and read the manga, I noticed he is actually an incredibly well-written depiction of someone struggling with BPD. Reo is a super layered character and my favorite hobby is picking apart those layers and yapping incessantly about them, so here we are. I want to write this analysis for a few reasons:

1.) Too many people misunderstand Reo and categorize him as dramatic or childish without any elaboration and he deserves a proper character deep-dive. I think him being borderline explains a LOT of his reactions/choices throughout the story.

2.) Borderline representation is extremely important to me. I'm diagnosed borderline and have struggled with this disorder for around ten years now, so I get really excited when I spy BPD-coded characters (especially if they're likable people and not just ghoulish irredeemable villains or manic pixie dream girl characters). This disorder can be so isolating, especially when the majority of people will never even bother to research or understand it. I know that some people like to chalk Reo's emotional reactions up to him being a moody 17-year-old, but I think I have enough evidence to prove that this is undiagnosed BPD that's festering in his noggin. Not to mention, literally nobody else acts like this in the series. Reo is incredibly unique and distinct in the way he behaves through this narrative and I think it's way past the point of normal teenage angst. Regardless, believe what you want. He'll always be my borderline princess tho <3

3.) I have a master's degree in English and what good is that if I don't write long, painful, pointless essays on anime guys? Not that this is exceptionally well written, I just like to laugh at myself for getting a whole M.A and then this is the shit I publish online lmao

By the end of this, I hope I can shed some light on wtf is going on inside of Reo's silly little head. (I'm also obviously not a psychologist, don't use any of this to diagnose yourself pls I don't need the scandal)

If you want to read, buckle up, because this is gonna be a long one!

First, let me define BPD- It's a personality disorder characterized by a long-standing pattern of instability in mood, interpersonal relationships, and self-image. At its core, it is a disorder categorized by emotional dysregulation (the inability to regulate one's emotional responses) People with BPD feel everything EXTREMELY hard. That's important to keep in mind IMO, because while their reactions may seem dramatic or extreme, what they're feeling IS dramatic and extreme. Everything they're feeling is amplified, so their reactions are amplified. Obviously from the outside, people assume it's an overreaction since they can't see what's going on inside the borderline's head. When you sit down and dissect the thought process of someone like Reo, it becomes a lot easier to understand why they react the way that they do to certain situations.

(Also, I'm not going to reiterate more than once that an explanation is not an excuse to treat people poorly. I cannot read ANYTHING on BPD without hearing every 2 minutes how the disorder isn't an excuse to hurt other people. We get it!! I'm explaining it, not excusing it. This enter essay is an analysis of why someone acts the way they do, not whether or not it's excusable)

So then, what behaviors/signs does somebody need to exhibit to receive a borderline diagnosis? The 9 diagnostic criteria for BPD are as follows:

1. Fear of abandonment

2. Unstable or changing relationships

3. Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

4. Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors

5. Suicidal behavior or self-injury

6. Varied or random mood swings

7. Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

8. Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

9. Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

Someone would only need 5 of these to receive a proper diagnosis. Just with the main story and the spin-off manga that is currently released, I think I have enough evidence to argue that Reo has 8 out of 9 criteria for a BPD diagnosis. For the sake of organization, I’m gonna group some of those together though, indicated by a + symbol. I also want to define a few important terms before I start yapping, so that y'all without BPD can understand wtf I'm even talking about.

Favorite Person (fp) - This is someone who holds massive significance in a borderline's life. They emotionally depend on this person a lot and to a certain extent, their worldview almost revolves around them.

Splitting- the change in perception of someone or something caused by black-or-white thinking or dichotomous thinking. It is the devaluation of someone who was once idealized and vice versa.

Mirroring (aka: the chameleon effect)- the constant, unconscious change in one's identity or sense of self by imitating another person’s behaviors, characteristics, or traits. It is common in people who have a vacant or distorted self-image which is a general symptom of BPD.

Now, time for me to break down the most prominent moments where Reo showcases borderline behavior. As I mentioned, I'm going to try and organize this under each criteria point (with some being grouped together)

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self:

Before I delve into Reo's relationships, I want to start with his baseline sense of identity. It’s established early on that Reo is a very bored, empty, unsatisfied person. Nothing excites him, nothing motivates him, and everything is handed to him. He’s frustrated because his parents notoriously try and buy his affection even though he doesn't want anything. For most of his life up until the narrative starts, he's wandering through life empty and frustrated. That is, until he finally sets his sights on soccer and decides to dedicate his life to winning the World Cup:

The wording, 'proves my existence' is interesting here. I think this is the first instance Reo has felt alive. So far, the only notable thing about him has been his family and his money. He hasn't achieved anything exceptional for himself, but now he has that opportunity. With this goal, he can really build something up from nothing and make it his own. It's almost like he's clinging to this dream to prove that he has some purpose in his life other than being the family heir.

Now, this dream changes when he meets Nagi, of course. I'm not gonna focus too much on their relationship in this section, but I will mention that meeting Nagi shifted Reo's entire dream, and not for the better. Through the narrative, his dream went from:

Winning the World Cup

Winning the World Cup with Nagi

Proving to Nagi that leaving him behind was a mistake

Improving himself and becoming a good striker on his own

Being a tool for Nagi to become the best striker

Had Nagi not come in and ask for Reo to come back to him, I think Reo could have done a great job at establishing his own sense of identity without Nagi. But no matter how much he works on himself, with Nagi in the picture, he's never going to value himself more than Nagi. Reo lets Nagi cloud his identity to the point where Isagi calls him out and asks what he's even doing at Blue Lock in the first place, since he clearly can't survive on his own, he needs Nagi with him.

After dealing with the turmoil of being abandoned by Nagi, Reo goes through a few stages. He starts with wanting to become somebody worthy of being beside Nagi, somebody that Nagi would want to choose. Devoting himself to becoming stronger and more versatile, his end goal is to have Nagi realize he made a mistake by leaving him behind. After a few more matches, Reo starts to realize that he needs to grow and change and become a stronger, better version of himself for himself and not for other people.

He decides that the fight was all his fault to begin with, that he should have never forced Nagi to play soccer and now he is going to get back to what his dream was originally, combined with his new desire to be a stand-alone player (and person, for that matter). Reo accepts the mistakes that he made, admits that he shouldn't have forced his ideals onto Nagi, and resolves to become a better person for HIMSELF. That's excellent!

Of course, Reo can't be happy for TOO long. Nagi comes out of the woodwork saying that he can't beat Isagi on his own and asks for Reo's help. Reo does stand up for himself a bit, saying that Nagi is being inconsiderate of his feelings and mentioning how long it took for him to recover from Nagi leaving. Now, the BPD trait here is how Reo not only forgives Nagi and is jumping on him and hugging him THE NEXT PAGE, but he also just disregards everything he said in this sequence. In a matter of two minutes, he no longer wants to be a player that can fight on his own or improve for himself, he wants to improve for Nagi. He starts ruminating again about how hurt he was when Nagi left, but now he's saying all of it wasn't so that he could get stronger individually, it was so that he could be reunited with Nagi again. Nagi asking for his help and saying that now they can play together again motivate Reo more than anything we've seen so far. (Nagi notoriously throws Reo little affection crumbs like this that Reo eats up, but I'm not trying focus on that) Now, Reo's alright with being a tool for Nagi's success again. Everything that happened was supposed to make him stronger so he could be a better partner to Nagi, right? Reo also says as the chapter ends, to please let him be a part of Nagi's dream until Nagi becomes the world's best striker. That's literally so sad!

He's also immediately back to the 'our' 'we' 'us' talk as well. If he can master his chameleon style in order to keep Nagi above the rest of the players, he wont get left behind again. If he devotes his time and energy into being a solo striker like the rest of these guys, Reo knows that he wont be able to keep up. This was always supposed to be his role, right? Building Nagi up to his full potential! :*)

I also like the detail that Reo is back to hugging Nagi and holding him, but Nagi never really touches him back. I think Reo's love language is touch for sure, not that it's incredibly relevant, but I do think it shows that Reo is back to being 100% comfortable around Nagi as if their fight never happened. I hear a lot of fans asking how Reo could have forgiven Nagi so easily, and I say this with my entire chest, it's the BPD. The black-and-white thinking combined with Nagi being Reo's fp and the excruciating pain of being abandoned by him in the first place ?? Of course he's going to take him back. Also, I've seen people blame Reo for not saying no to Nagi when he asks for help and I have to say that is an absolutely insane take. How are we gonna look at a panel where Nagi asks for help and then blame Reo for helping him?? I'm not going to focus on it too much in this post but in my opinion, it is crazy how little accountability both the narrative + fans give Nagi. Reo is pegged as responsible for both of their downfalls and it's nuts tbh.

Currently in the story, I think Reo's identity is still centered around Nagi. It's really easy for borderlines to structure their entire lives and personalities around their favorite person, but I can only hope that these two keep having open and honest discussions with one another. Hopefully, Reo will eventually learn that he can exist without Nagi and that he's more than just 'his arms and legs'.

Unstable or Changing Relationships:

The most notable relationship in Reo's life is Nagi. They're both each other's first real friends, which already sets up a less-than-ideal dynamic. Nagi has no idea how to communicate and he has pretty weak emotional intelligence. On the other hand, Reo is great at communicating, but he isn't used to regulating his emotions. For a lot of borderlines, they can go a very long time without experiencing any symptoms when they don't have a favorite person. When you think about it, the bulk of the disorder is shown through those interactions with other people. If Reo has never had a real friend in his life, I don't think he'd be used to the emotional turmoil that comes with having a fp.

The minute Reo meets Nagi, he's attached. All his classmates notice it, too. They question why Reo is suddenly so obsessed with this random kid who has no interest in him. Reo is ignoring everybody that isnt Nagi.

Very quickly, Reo boils down his view of the world to being him and Nagi versus everybody else, and he makes that very clear. It also depicts something that I think is incredibly crucial to Reo’s character that a lot of people overlook; as Nagi develops to be Reo’s favorite person, Reo’s dream isnt ‘playing soccer’ anymore. It’s Nagi. It’s being with Nagi, playing soccer with Nagi, being useful to Nagi, taking care of Nagi, and being somebody important to Nagi. He doesnt teach Nagi the rules or how to actually play, he teaches Nagi how to play with him. He literally re-writes and re-structures the game so that it can center around him and Nagi. Nagi calls him out on this in the spin-off manga:

Reo doesnt care about the structure of the game, he cares about Nagi. The other people on the field don't matter. The other team doesn't matter. He also starts to unknowingly put Nagi up on a pedestal, which is another borderline trait. He starts reiterating that Nagi is special, he's different from everybody else, he's destined to achieve great things. The more he raises Nagi up, the more he isolates the two of them in his mind, reiterating the idea that it's them against everybody else. His language reflects this too: Reo exclusively talks with 'us' 'we' 'our', insinuating that they're going to do everything together.

When Ego says that there can't be two winners, Reo says that he'll make Nagi the best striker. His 'ego' will be making Nagi successful. Along with putting Nagi on this pedestal, Reo also very early on establishes the fact that he'd pick Nagi over himself any day of the week. He's the only person in Blue Lock who really couldn't care less about becoming a striker himself: his dream is to be a tool in Nagi's success. Or, in simpler terms, he wants to be useful and make Nagi happy.

These two were in trouble from the very beginning. Nagi is lazy as all hell, has 0 motivation to do anything, and his dream is to live a life of luxury and never have to work. Reo, being the borderline baddie that he is, is more than happy to do EVERYTHING for Nagi. Borderlines love extremely hard! It's one of our best traits and I think it's important to showcase that Reo is a massive sweetheart at his core. He clearly loves Nagi a lot and goes to extreme lengths to make sure he feels taken care of. To someone with BPD, NOTHING is too big of an ask for a person they love, especially if that person is their fp. I also disagree with the argument that Reo 'made' Nagi codependent. Nagi likes being taken care of, he says it all the time. If you ask me, I would actually argue that Nagi takes advantage of Reo a little bit because he knows that Reo will do anything for him. But regardless, I think that Reo starts to develop an unspoken expectation with Nagi that he'll provide him with everything he needs, and in turn, Nagi will stick around. I don't think he's doing this intentionally, nor do I think it's being done in a manipulative way. I just think that Reo has a dormant fear of being abandoned that he doesn't totally know he has yet.

It isn't just Nagi that Reo showcases having unstable relationships with, though. Zantetsu is another good example. Reo starts out disliking Zantetsu, he snaps at him a couple times, and calls him a moron more than once. He starts to warm up to him because Nagi tells him to. The favorite person has MASSIVE sway in the borderline's life. If Nagi likes someone, Reo likes them too. (This is, of course, on the condition that they aren't a threat, looking at you Isagi).

In the immediate next chapter, Reo is acting like they're all best friends. He's climbing on top of them in their big bed, saying that the three of them are gonna win their matches, being a little pookie. He goes from not liking this guy at all to considering him one of his close friends super fast. Also on the topic of Isagi, when they're making up the teams for the second selection, Nagi doesn't initially want to tell Reo that he wants Isagi on their team bc he's worried Reo will be upset. But, when he does finally say it, Reo is literally fine with it because like I said, who Nagi likes, Reo likes! On the condition that they don't replace Reo, which clearly happened soon after.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Reo also shows how he can go from loving someone to despising him very quickly. After Chigiri and Kunigami tell him to get back up in the game post-Nagi's abandonment, we can literally see the switch flip in Reo's head:

Suddenly, he hates Nagi. Nagi's a jerk who abandoned him; he never cared about him, and he threw him away. Dude literally says "Let's kill the bastards that betrayed us". This act of unintentional devaluing is called splitting. What Reo's essentially doing is going from one extreme to the other: if Nagi isn't his perfect treasure, he's the devil that broke his heart. There's no room for a grey area. The reasoning behind borderline's developing this black-and-white mindset is rooted in self-defense. If Reo devalues Nagi into being nothing more than a traitor, then he's stripping away the power that Nagi has to hurt him. If he looks at him like a rival or a villain, it's protecting him from being hurt by Nagi again.

That doesn't mean that he genuinely believes any of this, more so, he's trying to convince himself that it's true. We see that at his core, the reason he's acting like this is because he's hurt. I'll go more into it later on, but he's constantly thinking, what does Isagi have that I don't? What do I have to do in order to win Nagi back? This black-and-white thinking is an automatic self-defense mechanism that I think he's doing subconsciously. Regardless, the shifting he's doing here can cause a little whiplash, which brings me to:

Varied or random mood swings + Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights:

I can’t think of a better way to describe Reo's temperament than the wiki, so let me quote it: "Generally, he seems to feel every emotion with full force and is extremely aware of his own faults and shortcomings, which is evident in several instances of painful breakdowns shown in the spin-off manga. Due to his high emotionality, he can even get violent when he loses his temper."

Reo is characterized as being emotionally unstable. When he's happy, he's elated! When he's sad, he's miserable. There are a ton of scenes between the manga and spin-off manga that show how fast his emotions can flip, but this one was one of my personal favorites:

In this scene, Reo has developed a little scheme in the dining hall where the guys are trading their side dishes. At face value, a throwaway moment. But, I think it's worth looking at because not only does this show Reo's emotional response being triggered in an opposite, semi-extreme direction, but the root cause for the reaction was that he felt rejected by Zantetsu. In his own weird way, he's asking Zantetsu to come over and hang out with him. He's not being exceptionally clear with that message, but I can still pick up on it. "You wanna join in, don't you?" He's extending the invite, making himself vulnerable, and Zantetsu shoots him down by saying nah, I'm fine with my noodles. Reo JUMPS on him like YOU KNOW WHAT? I TOOK THAT PERSONALLY! lol. Jokes aside, I think this moment is a great one to argue Reo's BPD tendencies because it's such a seemingly mundane interaction. Even Zantetsu is surprised by Reo's random outburst. This also sets up the fact that one of Reo's most obvious triggers is being rejected/abandoned/betrayed, an extremely common one between those of us with BPD.

Other instances of Reo having a bad temper are a lot more obvious. In the match against teams V and Z, Reo straight up elbows Raichi in the throat, and then tries to go throw hands with Kuon for hurting Nagi. He only stops because if he gets into any more fights, he’ll get thrown out of the game and won't be able to play with Nagi anymore. He’s visibly pissed though and calls Team Z a joke. Hell, even Reo himself can recognize on a certain level that he can't control his emotions: they control him. They cloud his judgment and make him react in ways that he wish he didn't.

He is constantly plagued by these extreme emotional reactions that are out of his control. Not to say that people with BPD are unable to ever control their emotions, because we can! It takes time and therapy and practice though, which Reo hasn't had. His lack of regulation is also why he has such a dramatic and extreme meltdown when Nagi abandons him.

Fear of Abandonment:

Reo's biggest trigger and the cause of his inner turmoil throughout Blue Lock is his fear of abandonment. I mentioned before that I think he's had this fear dormant inside of him for a while as so many borderlines do, since he hasn't had the chance to experience it before. He alludes to it early on when they first arrive at Blue Lock:

The thought of leaving Nagi for somebody else? Reo considers that heartless. They came together, after all. They're going to win the world cup together. Nagi could break both of his legs and Reo wouldn't leave him, because again, Reo isn't there to team up with the best player and become the best striker in the world: he's there to play with Nagi!! And, like I said, in Reo's mind it's him and Nagi vs everyone else-

Reo exhibits a lot of signs early on of being jealous while they're playing in Blue Lock. I mean, as we discussed, everything should be focused around him and Nagi. When Nagi passes to Zantetsu in the team V and Y match, Reo pulls up like 'hey, why didn't you pass it to me?? ):' There are a lot of little moments like that, but Reo's jealousy is a lot more relevant to my argument after he gets abandoned by Nagi.

Let's talk about that word: abandoned. It seems dramatic, right? Reo uses that term constantly and exclusively. Every time he brings that moment up, he uses the word 'abandoned', or he'll say 'betrayed' or 'chose'. These are very definitive words. He’s not saying Nagi ditched him or flaked on him or blew him off, no; he has abandoned him. That word choice may seem disproportionate to the situation, but that's Reo's reality. This was the ultimate betrayal to him. The constant use of that vocabulary reiterates that in Reo's mind, there is no grey area. Either Nagi chooses him, or he chooses someone else. In choosing someone else, he abandons Reo. Reo is paranoid that Nagi isn't ever going to come back to him and it's because of something that Reo is lacking. How can Nagi like Isagi more than him, anyway?

Now, I do fault Nagi a bit for not communicating better at that moment. I understand that he's bad at communication, but I don't think Reo could have been more obviously upset if he tried. The dude was in TEARS. Nagi saw him devastated and then expected everything to be fine when he met him in the bathhouse? Idk. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he didn't realize it would upset Reo to such an extreme: maybe he thought that they would miss each other, but Reo wouldn't take it personally. I'm doing my best not to harp on Nagi since this is about Reo.

Abandonment is detrimental to people with BPD. It causes extreme inner turmoil that we see with Reo as the story progresses because it is the only thing he can think about. If he isn't trying to cover up his hurt feelings with this idea of revenge, he's self-destructing over being abandoned. He becomes obsessed with wondering why Nagi chose Isagi over him. Was there something wrong with him? Isagi isn't that impressive, why would Nagi rather be with him? These thoughts torture him endlessly and fuel his desire to 'steal' Nagi back. He literally says to Isagi, that he's going to steal Nagi back. Much to his dismay though, Reo starts to notice that Isagi is bringing out some positive traits in Nagi. Nagi's entire vibe is different with Isagi. Nagi is having fun playing soccer without Reo. In fact, he's having more fun. He's making plays he's never made before. His face is visibly different; he's more excited than before.

This is heartbreaking for Reo. Not only was he right that Isagi did have something to offer Nagi that he couldn't, but Reo is having a massive self-hate spiral during this point as well, so he's internalizing all of his flaws and mistakes while the thought is sitting in the back of his head: did Nagi actually have a good reason for abandoning me? Was I not enough to satisfy him? Did I only drag him down? This gets significantly worse the longer he watches Nagi and Isagi play:

Everything is falling apart. Nagi is doing completely fine without Reo, and Reo is an absolute mess. We're circling back to Reo's lack of identity here as well. He's watching firsthand that he's losing Nagi to Isagi: what does he do? What happens to him if he loses Nagi, who is he without Nagi? He's overwhelmed during this match and at one point Reo literally screams that he's going to tear apart their connection. Jealousy is consuming him, but it's also those feelings of inferiority and wondering if he really did deserve to be abandoned. If Nagi is so happy without him, maybe he really did have a reason. These are the thoughts that are circling around in Reo's head. Not to mention, he is constantly tortured by the flashbacks of Nagi leaving him, which I think is a great detail. Some readers might say it's just pointless recapping but I disagree, I think it's depicting how traumatic that was for Reo. As a borderline, being abandoned by your fp IS traumatic. Reo relives that moment so many times because so many things trigger it for him throughout Blue Lock. He can't even look at Chigiri and Kunigami without thinking about him and Nagi. It's a really devastating experience that quickly deteriorates him emotionally.

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness + Suicidal behavior or self-injury:

One of my favorite things about Reo is the fact that he is self-aware that he's behaving somewhat irrationally, but he doesn't know how to stop. When we look at one of the several times that Reo is curled up crying over Nagi, he mentions how he really did want to tell Nagi to go and have fun, but he didn't. He couldn't. The visuals shift for this too:

Reo doesnt want to be acting this way, but he can't help it, and that's frustrating to him. It makes him start feeling ashamed of himself. His inner thoughts start to spiral and he feels weak and alone. He's reflecting here on what his true feelings really were at that moment, and how scared and lonely and weak he felt as a result of Nagi leaving him behind.

These feelings quickly evolve into Reo feeling worthless and falling into bouts of self-hatred. He's so ashamed of the way he's feeling and behaving but it feels so out of his control. He says, "maybe if I hadn't gone to Blue Lock in the first place, I wouldn't have to experience this feeling." As I said before, borderline's feel things EXTREMELY intensely; the disorder is described as living with third-degree burns all over your body. Everything hurts. His feelings are so intense and all-consuming right now, it's all he can think about:

I saw some posts in the fandom reddit asking why Reo is acting like this. One in particular reads: "I get that he is betrayed and stuff but he is acting like it’s the end of the world, is it explained later why he acts like this? Is it because he doesn’t think he can win without Nagi?" Not to call this person out, I just want to answer the question in this post-

It has nothing to do with winning; it was never about winning. It was always about Nagi.

If we're looking at Reo through the borderline lens, it IS the end of the world for him. Nagi was his world. What's worse, he's fully aware that he's not acting rationally and he doesn't know why, which is making him feel ashamed and weak and embarrassed. Now I know why he's acting like this, but there are no Blue Lock psychiatrists sitting around to wack him with the mood stabilizers or the DBT handbook, so he's gonna stay feeling like a monster.

He lets these thoughts, along with the resentment and anger from being abandoned in the first place, fuel him for the second selection match. As he's watching the game play out, as Nagi is about to score the winning goal, Reo's mind starts racing with intrusive, negative thoughts.

He's praying that Nagi fails, that he gives up, that he stops trying, anything to stop that solidifying moment where he scores the winning goal and proves once and for all that not only was Reo not strong enough to stop him, but Nagi doesn't need him anymore. He catches himself really quickly, because he realizes he's sounding just like his parents. Everything is spinning out of control so bad, Reo wants Nagi to end up in a vulnerable position so that he isn't the only one falling apart. As he catches himself thinking this, he's disgusted with himself. He calls himself 'utter trash', and as he watches Nagi score the winning goal, he falls to his knees, wishing he was dead.

As he sits there decomposing in emotional turmoil and suicidal ideation, Nagi's team chooses Chigiri to join them, and it's the nail in the coffin. This is probably Reo's lowest point in the entire story IMO. Nagi comes up to compliment him on his plays and Reo shows us another classic borderline move: he's anticipating how bad it's going to hurt to be abandoned by Nagi again, so he's trying to push him away before it can happen. We see the dichotomy of his spoken words and inner thoughts here, where he's talking big game to Nagi, saying things like 'you clearly don't care about me anymore, you're throwing me away, if you're going to abandon me just do it properly', while internally he's thinking 'I'm the worst, I wish I was dead, please take this bait and break my heart so that I can self destruct in peace'.

i LOVE the visuals during this moment. This is what Reo thinks is his last line of defense, the last thing he can do to preserve any part of his dignity is to make Nagi hate him so that he'll stop throwing these crumbs of affection at him. It's also really telling that despite his switch in behavior and the devaluing of Nagi, the root of all of that is STILL that he was so hurt by the abandonment.

I don't think I need to analyze the suicidal ideation because he just straight up says he wants to die like three times in this scene but, aside from that, the visual of his inner thoughts vs what he's actually saying is so powerful. Not to mention the chameleon imagery which i'll geek out about in a second, this is another example of his black and white thinking along with the reiteration that being abandoned was literally traumatic for Reo: he says they can never go back to what they were before. Speaking as a borderline, this is painfully true. When people break my trust even in a small way, I can never view them the same as I used to. I can forgive them and let it go, but I'll never be as open with them as I once was. In Reo's shoes, he had Nagi up on this pedestal that he was perfect and would never do anything to hurt him, but he did hurt him (in the worst way possible).

After Nagi tells him he's a pain in the ass and that he doesn't care anymore, Reo thanks him for 'finishing him off'. In his mind, they're done now and he can suffer in peace and quiet without dragging Nagi down anymore.

Bonus Point: The Chameleon Effect

I LOVE THE FACT THAT HIS THING IS CHAMELEONS AHHHH

The chameleon imagery with Reo makes me INSANE dude. As I mentioned towards the beginning of this post, a part of borderline that is seldom talked about is the tendency to take on 'the chameleon effect', or mirror the people around them. REO'S ENTIRE THING IS CHAMELEONS LIKE BFFR ?? That image where he was trying to get Nagi to hate him, was before he even started using his chameleon style, it was just something the authors thought was necessary to include during Reo's mental breakdown. Aside from the cool imagery, his chameleon style is a reflection of his relationship with Nagi. He gets called a jack of all trades and a master of none early on in reference to how when he’s without Nagi, hes not really exceptional at anything. He never really took the time to master one specific thing because he was always so concerned with helping Nagi. This rings my BPD bell for a couple reasons: first of all, when you have no sense of identity and you’re worried it means you have no real personality ?? Steal one!! Take the closest person to you and copy that one. That’s something us baddies know VERY well. Also, think there’s something about you that your fp doesn’t like? Change it! You can morph into anything they want as long as it means they won’t leave you !! :*) Before he makes up with Nagi, he copies moves in hopes that it'll make him stronger and appear more desirable to Nagi. After they make up, he copies whoever he has to so that he can get Nagi to that goal and make himself useful, make himself somebody that Nagi wants to have around. It is a literal direct metaphor for him changing anything and everything about himself for Nagi and graaaahhhh it’s so cool

Reonagi ?? Some thoughts-

I want to close this yap session with my thoughts on Reonagi as a ship. I do think that they can work and I want to make that clear. I'm not on board with the 'borderlines arent capable of having loving and fulfilling relationships' crap. That being said, they both have to put in a bit of effort. Reo has already recognized a lot of his own issues. He admits that he was wrong for pushing his ideals onto Nagi, that he needs to let Nagi grow and be his own person, etc. Nagi really hasn't accepted any fault. I stand by the fact that Nagi needs to be more sensitive with Reo. Way too often when a relationship like this fails, all the blame is put on the one with borderline. I'm gonna be the outlier here and say that if Nagi cares about Reo, he needs to learn about Reo's triggers and be mindful of them. I'm not saying that since Reo is sensitive to abandonment that Nagi should just isolate himself from everybody else, but what I am saying is that when he's going to do something that doesn't involve Reo, he needs to learn how to communicate that he still loves and values Reo. "I'm gonna go play soccer with this person right now, but I haven't forgotten about our promise. When I come back, we can play together. I still love you and I'm not going to leave you for whoever tf I'm playing with rn." (sneaking that 'i love you' in bc like..they're literally canon at this point asdfghjkll) But, I do think that Nagi loves Reo and cares about him in his own way. The two of them just have to keep working on their communication skills. Nagi has the potential to have a hot rich husband who will literally bend over backward for him and buy him all the robux he could ever want, he's gotta put in a shred of effort!

I also like to think that Nagi didn’t totally get the fact that Reo doesn’t gaf about just playing soccer. Nagi thinks soccer is what they do together, it’s what makes reo happy, right? He’s always pushing him to train harder and take the game more seriously because he likes the sport, RIGHT? It would make perfect sense to go play with isagi so that he can get better at soccer and come back to reo a more improved player. Maybe that’s why he was surprised when Reo was so mad in the bathhouse, bc he wasn’t making the connection that Reo cares more about him than soccer. That Reo puts all that energy into him playing soccer because he thinks it’s something that they can have as their own, and once Nagi notices how good he is, he’ll start enjoying it and the two of them can hold hands and run around the soccer pitch!! I think Nagi missed that part tbh, and I don’t think he know that even now in the story. Maybe Reo doesn’t even notice it.

Anyway, a shameless plug to my reonagi playlist if that's your thing (i cooked with this one, i fear) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CsvSqmuI4cxOl1nTaV4GJ?si=737a0f21e0bd482a

Closing Thoughts:

Reo is a bpd baddie and I love him very much. I think he's a sensitive guy with a lot of feelings who would benefit from taking time to work through his trauma and his emotions. I hope that he eventually is able to build an identity for himself that doesn't involve Nagi, but baby steps, I suppose. I think Reo is a great balance of positive and negative borderline traits and he reads as a really believable and sympathetic character. He is, however, definitely that friend that you have to slap to stop them from running back to their ex.

Jokes aside though, BPD can be extremely hard to live with, even more so when it's undiagnosed and untreated. If someone you love has BPD, take the time to read up on it and do your best to understand them. I promise you, it will mean the world to them.

If you managed to get this far, thank you for reading! This was a messy stream of consciousness and I appreciate your support by listening.

#blue lock #reo mikage #reonagi #nagireo #nagi seishiro #bpd

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theyrealllesbians · 6 months ago

Text

Regulus was manically pacing around his room, playing with the cord at the base of the phone.

"What do you mean there's another one?" He asked in an exasperated tone, rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and fight the annoyed headache he could feel brewing.

"Another wedding invitation has just come for you, from Emmaline Vance? Wait was she the one who was obsessed with Peter and would try to dance with him at every party for like a year?" Sirius said, getting progressively louder and more excited as he carried on.

"Yes." Regulus bit out. He really could not be bothered to go to another wedding. Why did everyone want to get married all of a sudden, it's only been a couple, wait no 7 years, since he left high school. God, how had it been 7 years already? "Surely I don't have to go. I can just RSVP back saying 'thanks, but no thanks' that'll work right?"

Regulus didn't even really understand why he was getting so many invitations. He'd had 5 wedding invites so far, 2 baby showers which he was not going to and 2 reunion dinners. Of course his own brother's wedding invitation was not included in this list of grievances. He's never dare complain about having to watch the happiest day of Sirius's life. Even just hearing him and Remus try and sort out the last few details made his heart warm in a way that he would never dare admit to.

"Come on, you have to!" Sirius exclaimed. "Everyone will want to see you. Besides all of us," 'us' being Sirius, Remus, James, Peter, Lily, Mary, Marlene and Dorcas, "are going and I refuse to spend another evening answering a million questions about you when you could just get over yourself and come!!!!"

Sirius was referring to the last high school reunion that happened 2 years ago that he had refused to go to. Apparently, Sirius spent the whole night getting asked about Regulus's whereabouts and what he was doing, if it was true that he had refused to work in the family business, whether he was gay and if so, was he single?

"Ugh," he groaned, "if I do go, and that's an if! I'll need a date. Where am I supposed to get a date on such short notice." Regulus's head was now beginning to ache as it had threatened to do so at the thought of having to sit through a wedding with someone he barely knew just to show that he wasn't alone and that he was doing well for himself.

"I don't know, do I? I mean you don't have to have a date." Sirius suggested, speaking through a mouth of some form of food.

"I do though don't I, otherwise I'll just get pitying looks the entire night. Or worse, people coming up to me trying to ask me out." He shivered at the thought.

Sirius choked a little, "That's a bit cocky don't you think?"

"No I don't think it is actually, not after I had Gideon touching my knee last month asking if I'd 'be interested in a night to remember', I cannot do that again. I just can't," he whined. He may as well have stomped his feet to go along with the toddler type tantrum he was getting close to. But Regulus did not care, he was being entirely serious when he said he could not do it again.

"Fine then, go with Barty?" Sirius suggested.

"Can't he's already going with Evan." Regulus responded, damning them both because it wouldn't be a half bad idea.

"Act as if you're in a throuple, you could pull it off." Sirius teased.

"Sirius" Regulus whined again, he needed real solutions.

"Pandora?"

"Doesn't really work now that everyone knows I'm gay." Regulus was getting tired now, why did he call his brother again? Oh right he didn't, Sirius called him because Regulus is currently on a work trip and Sirius is watering his plants and clearly snooping through his post.

"Well, I don't have any other ideas. This is why you need more friends." Sirius said matter of factly.

"To have as back up wedding guests?"

"Yes, that's what we do all the time. I don't actually think that anyone really knows who is with who. Oh, you could go with James. I don't think he was planning to go with anyone."

"Yeah, pass." He would not go with James Potter. Not for any particular reason, he just couldn't.

"Right well, I can't help you"

"Apparently so. I'm gonna go" Regulus just needed to lie down and think about what he was gonna do. He still had a month to figure it all out.

"Alright, see you soon, call me if you need anything else." Sirius said, trying to maintain his 'helpful' older brother personality that he had built.

"Yep will do, bye." Regulus hung up.

He really hated wedding season.

Just had this idea, it will be Jegulus. Kinda fake dating/ friends to lovers type deal. I'm actually pretty excited to start writing it and have quite a few ideas already.

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presidentsdaughter · 20 days ago

Note

sweetpea… please write jimmy leaving his girlfriend to overdose at curly’s place like you said 😭

tw for overdose, cocaine, drug use, shitty bf jimmy, blood, death and shitty writing

“Hiii, Curly.” You’re clutching onto his doorframe, blinking at him rapidly, one of your false lashes is MIA.

Jimmy is close behind, smiling too hard for it to actually be Jimmy. Jesus. It’s a little scary. Like he’s wearing someone else’s face, the skin stretched thinly over his bones is looking worn. He shoulders past Curly and makes himself comfortable on the couch he has called home so many times.

“Woah, okay—Hey, hey, Jim.” Curly catches you when you stumble, clammy hands on his chest to steady yourself. “What’s all this about?” He’s too old for this. Too old to think Jimmy is cool for snorting crack off public bathroom counters, too old to be anything but worried.

“Nothin’, man.” Jimmy waves a dismissive hand his way. “She just overdid it, your place is closer than mine.”

You blink up at Curly with a dopey smile as he sets you down beside your boyfriend. “You’re sooo nice, Curly,” you slur, tucking your legs beneath you, it takes a few attempts but you make it there. “Just the best, like, so nice, you know any girl would be lucky to have you.”

Good ol’ reliable Curly. Got a big ol’ shoulder to lean on. Big ass back to stab. Curly who cannot keep him at arms length.

So he sits down like a dumbass and chaperones the two of you as Jimmy, loyalty card in hand, cuts up another few lines on the coffee table. Curly opts out, mumbling about blocked sinuses and a short nasal passage. He takes a dollar bill from your purse and rolls it up, dexterous fingers that only get put to use for one thing in particular. Jimmy snorts it, tips his head back, thumbing the edge of his nose, his smile crooked and lazy when he passes the bill over to you.

You do the same.

Snort it, tip your head back, sniffle, wipe your nose.

Your head doesn’t fall back into place. You stay like that for one second, two seconds, three seconds, four, five—

Foam dribbles down your chin, and your body jerks backwards until you are sprawled on the floor lifelessly like a discarded mannequin.

“Holy shit.” Curly jumps to his feet, floundering, breathing just as hard as you are trying to breathe. “Holy shit, Jim. Holy shit, she’s fucking—Jesus Christ.”

“Fuck, shut up, Curly, I know, I know—I’ve got this,” says Jimmy, who has not got this, who has not got fucking anything at all, like, ever. So why would he have this? “C’mon, baby.” He smacks you hard, somehow managing to look unfazed and completely unhinged. “Don’t die on me, I’ll fucking kill you, you… Fucking shit, shit, shit.”

There is so much blood seeping into Curly’s new shag rug. He is going to pass it off as wine when his mother visits. You’re twisting and choking and kicking your legs, putting up a nasty fight and nobody has bothered to call a fucking ambulance, nobody wants to deal with the fucking consequences. There is a girl overdosing in his lounge and Jimmy is going to go back to jail and—

“Where are you going?” Curly asks, horrified as you fit on the ground while your boyfriend pulls on his jacket. “Jim, where are you going, are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t—“ Jimmy motions with his hand at you, at himself. “I can’t fucking go back there, man, shit, not for this, not for her.”

You’re not worth it, not worth hospital bills and phone calls and court dates.

So they let it happen.

Jimmy helps you ride it out, kissing your face and cupping your tit like it is going to do anything at all.

And when you go cold, he rolls you up in Curly’s shag rug to keep you warm, it’s a two-man job, lifting all this dead weight, but Jimmy does it all on his own while Curly sits there jittering.

“There’s a creek nearby,” Curly tells him, white-knuckling the arm of the sofa.

“How about that job you were talking about?” Jimmy murmurs soberly.

#🧸.shorts #mouthwashing jimmy smut #jimmy mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing jimmy x reader #jimmy x reader #jimmy smut #mouthwashing x y/n #mouthwashing x you #mouthwashing smut #mouthwashing x reader

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mylifesjustacarousel · 5 months ago

Text

bridget’s sister

pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested!)

summary: being bridget’s sister, everyone has their preconceived notions about you, but they couldn’t be more wrong. what happens when the shy princess and the arrogant pirate get paired up for an assignment?

type: fluff

CW: none

WC: 4.7k

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | requests are open! sorry for the long wait! <3 (not proofread!)

You were Bridget’s younger sister, only a year apart. Most people hate when they live in the shadow of their older siblings, but you felt that, that was far from the truth for you. You were very shy and kept to yourself, so you relished being in the shadow of your older sister. It kept the attention off of you. Not that there was ever much on you, though. You and Bridget weren’t exactly the most popular people ever. But, you both had Ella.

The three of you were sat in Bridget’s room, you on Bridget’s bed while the two girls were baking. “How was school today, y/n? Anything fun happen?” Bridget asked. She sort of acted as a mother figure for you ever since you had arrived at Merlin Academy. Being on your own was hard, but having your older sister around, and her best friend, made it a bit easier. You had a hard time making friends of your own, even back in Wonderland you didn’t have very many friends. But, you liked it that way. It made life less complicated.

“It was okay.” You shrugged. “Alchemy was pretty fun, but we got our first partnered assignment today.” She looked over at you, a puzzled look on her face. “Why is that bad? You love Alchemy!”

“I do, but uh, it’s my partner that’s really the issue.” you mumbled the last bit, your cheeks turning a bright pink. Ella giggled, popping the cupcakes that they had made into the oven. “Uh oh, does somebody have a crush on their partner? Who is it?” she asked. You just blushed more, grabbing one of Bridget’s pillows and burying your face in it. “I can’t say, it’s awful!” you exclaimed, your words muffled by the pillow.

Bridget sat down next to you, gently running her hand along your back. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell us. But, maybe we can help you out.”

“James Hook.” you said, your face still buried into the pillow. Ella raised a brow. “Who? We can’t hear you when you have a face full of pillow.” You groaned, sitting up as you mustered up the courage to even say his name.

“Hook. James Hook. He’s my partner.”

Ella’s eyes widened. “Him? He’s bad news, y/n. Not to mention, he hates us.” You flopped back onto the bed, covering your face with the pillow again. “I know! It’s terrible!”

“You can’t help who you like,” Bridget said, “What makes you like him?”

“I don’t know!” you whined, tossing the pillow across the room. “I know he’s mean, and I know he’s cold hearted. But, when I see him, it’s like my heart is riding a rollercoaster that’s going faster than the speed of light. He’s just so… him.”

“Maybe he could use someone to help warm up his little dead heart.” Ella shrugged. Bridget gently hit her arm, giving her a playful glare. “Ooh! Could I set up a date for you two? I just got a new cookbook, I could make you some desserts to bring!”

You sat up once more, quickly shaking your head. “No, you cannot get involved in this. It’s just a silly little crush, it’ll go away… I hope. There will be no dates, and there will be no desserts. If there’s one thing I’m not doing, it’s absolutely humiliating myself.”

“Well… why don’t you bring him a cupcake tomorrow?” Bridget asked.

“I am not putting a love spell on him, B.”

“Fine!”

You sat in your seat, your palms practically an ocean with how much they were sweating. The rest of the students were filing into the classroom, and you were silently praying that Hook wouldn’t even bother to show up today. But your prayers were quickly squashed when the brunette pirate sat next to you with a huff. Your heart was almost beating out of your chest, you couldn’t even look at him or else your heart would actually explode.

“Alright, class! Get with your partners and start on the assignment. I suggest you work with each other outside of class as well for the presentation portion of the project.” Merlin announced before going to his desk.

“Um, are you ready?” you asked, pulling out your notebook and assignment guidelines. “I didn’t bring any of that stuff.” He gestured to all of the books you had pulled out. “Oh! Um, well here!” You set a few pieces of paper and a pencil in front of him.

You stood up, pulling out the ingredients for the potion you were making. Hook stood next to you, his arm brushing against your shoulder. “I’m not really sure how to do… any of this. I can’t say I really care for this class.” he said.

“Okay! Well, I actually really really like this class, so don’t even worry about it,” you rambled on, “I will do most of it, just focus on taking notes.”

Hook watched you carefully as you poured ingredients into the cauldron. Well, he couldn’t care less about the assignment, he was mostly focused on you. The concentrated look on your face, the way your mouth moved silently when you were talking to yourself. He thought you were a little strange, but quite charming.

You felt his eyes on you, and it took everything in you to not look over at him. It’s just a silly little crush… or maybe a silly big crush. The two of you had never really spoken before you got partnered up, but you would see him walking around the school. His gorgeous smile, and the way he carried himself with confidence… arrogance, really. You knew that you should despise him, but you couldn’t help yourself. There had to be more than what he showed on the surface.

“Can you hand me the griffin claw?” you asked in your usual mousy tone. Hook snapped out of his trance, looking around. “Hmm? Oh, there it is.” He picked up the griffin claw, handing it over to you. You quietly thanked him, stirring up the potion.

Merlin kept a close eye on the two of you. He knew how Hook was, and that was why he partnered him up with you. He watched as you did all of the work as Hook sat there, the paper he was supposed to be taking notes on almost completely blank. He got up, going over to you two.

“I see that you two are almost done. That’s quite impressive. But, in order for you both to get credit during the presentation, you both need to do the work.” Merlin looked towards you. “I highly recommend that you two get together after school for a tutoring session. Maybe you could get Mr. Hook to actually pass this class.”

Hook sneered, picking up the pencil and jotting down unreadable notes. He had absolutely terrible handwriting. “I mean it, James.” Merlin said, walking back to his desk.

“I’m so sorry about that, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.” you mumbled. “It’s fine. So… your place or mine?” he asked.

Your eyes widened and your head turned to look in his direction. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Did I stutter, darling? Where are we meeting up later?”

Your heart melted at the pet name. How could someone be so awful, but so perfect at the same time?

Before your brain could even process the question, your mouth was already moving. “My place, come around six. Bring a notebook.” You tore off a piece of one of the papers that you gave him, writing down your dorm building and room number for him.

Oh, god. What did I just do? you thought.

“You what?!” Ella exclaimed, a look of absolute shock on her face.

“I invited Hook over to my room to study, and now I’m really freaking out!” You were pacing back and forth, your hands running through your own hair. “I don’t even know why I did that! My mouth started moving before my brain could even think! Oh god, this is going to end terribly! Should I cancel? I should cancel!”

“No, don’t cancel!” Bridget went over to you, putting her hands on your shoulders. “It’s clear that this is something that you want, y/n. You can’t stop love. You can repress it, but you can’t stop it. So don’t cancel. Just… be careful. Uli’s friends can be a little…”

“Mean. They can be mean and vicious.” Ella finished her sentence. “We’ll be here. If he tries anything, you know where to find us.”

“Oh, I feel like I’m gonna yak. Do I look okay? Please tell me I look okay!” you whined, straightening out your clothes. Bridget smiled, brushing your hair out of your face. “You look as beautiful as always. It’s going to be fine. You two will study and then he’ll leave. Why don’t you take a cupcake for the road? They’re strawberry shortcake, a new recipe.”

You sighed, looking over at the tray of freshly baked cupcakes. “What if this doesn’t go well? I can’t have the rest of the VKs after me, I literally will not survive.” Bridget cupped your cheeks. “You’re an amazing girl, you can do anything. It’s just studying, it’s not like it’s a date… even though I really want to plan one for you. I’m serious, I have a whole list of ideas.”

“It’s not happening, Bridg.”

“It could. You never knowwww!” she said in a singsong. You playfully rolled your eyes, picking two cupcakes up off of one of the many golden platters. “Okay, I’m going. If this doesn’t end well, at least I get a cupcake to eat.”

“Good luck! Make sure you swing by after to tell us how it went.” Bridget fixed your hair once more before leading you to the door. “Go get him!”

You pulled out your textbooks and cauldron, getting everything organized for Hook’s arrival. You seemed calm and collected on the outside, but it was like a million alarms were going off inside your head.

He doesn’t feel that way about you, he doesn’t even know you. It’s just a tutoring session.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock on the door. Oh god, he’s here. You looked at yourself in the mirror, deeming yourself presentable before opening the door. “Hi , James. Um, come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Hook strolled in, his eyes darting around your room as he looked at all of your decor. “It’s very girly in here.” he commented as he sat down on your bed. “Um… thank you?” you replied, “So, I thought we could start with some reading and then you could practice working on the potion… or anything.”

Picking up one of the textbooks, you sat down next to him. Well, as close as you could get to him without feeling like you were going to spontaneously combust. You opened up the book to the page that explained the potion that the two of you were working on. “Um, it’s a pretty simple potion. One of the easier ones, actually.”

Hook scooted closer to you, reading the text over your shoulder. You could feel his breath hitting your cheek from how close he was. Not to mention, he smelled surprisingly incredible. “Okay, so, uh…” you mumbled. Your brain was completely short circuiting.

“Are you… alright?” he asked. You quickly snapped out of it, standing up and going over to your desk that you had set the cauldron up on. “Yup, never better!” You nervously giggled. “Just… take a look around while I finish setting up? I find hands on learning is a lot more effective.” He nodded and got up, quietly wandering around your room. His eyes landed on the tray of cupcakes that was on your nightstand. “Cupcakes? Do you bake?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh no, not me. Those are, uh, from my sister. She’s the baker.” you explained, “You can try one, if you want! Or not, whatever you want!” Hook laughed to himself, picking up one of the cupcakes.

Oh god, even his laugh is gorgeous.

“Is your sister the cupcake girl? The one with the pink hair?” he asked, his mouth full of cupcake. You froze, looking over at him. It wasn’t a secret in the slightest, but the VKs hated Bridget.

“Um… yes.”

“Hmm…” he mumbled, “You’re not anything like her. Wouldn’t have guessed if it wasn’t for the cupcake.” You pulled the rest of the ingredients out, trying to hide your face as it turned the shade of a tomato. “Um, is that a problem or something? Because if that’s a problem then I don’t think this is going to work.”

Hook shook his head quickly. “No, no! Just… making an observation. You don’t have to be so skittish all the time, I’m not gonna hurt you.” You quickly relaxed. “Okay, you’re right… Let’s just get to work.”

He went over to you, looking over all of the ingredients on the table. “You just have all of this stuff? Are you like a witch or something?” he teased. “Definitely not a witch. I don’t know, I just really like alchemy. It’s kind of like baking, but instead of desserts you can turn someone into a frog. Not that I ever have, though.”

“Seems like you really know your stuff. Well, show me how it’s done, princess. You’re probably my only hope of passing this class.”

“Okay… do you even know anything about alchemy?” you asked.

Hook shook his head. “Nope. Not a clue, lass.”

You sighed, opening your book back up. “Okay! It’s a super simple potion, you could probably do it with your eyes closed. It’s a rejuvenation spell. It makes things younger, or like new. You’re going to practice on…” You looked around your room before spotting a vase of dead flowers. You picked them up, bring them over to the table. “These. They’re well past their expiration date.”

He looked at the book, mumbling the ingredients list to himself as he picked up the labeled jars and started pouring ingredients in. You carefully watched him, reaching out and grabbing his hand when he almost put an incorrect ingredient in. “No! No, not that one. That one will make it go kaboom.”

Hook’s eyes glanced down at your hand, how it was so much smaller and daintier than his. He cleared his throat, pulling his hand away and setting the jar down. “Thanks. We definitely don’t want that.” You picked up the correct jar, handing it to him. “This one, but only a tiny amount. A little goes a long way.”

He poured it in as you grabbed the griffin claw. “Here, use this to stir it. Stir it slowly, if you stir it too fast you could completely ruin the potion.” you said. Hook nodded, taking the griffin claw from you. “Well, why don’t you help me? Just so I don’t ruin it, y’know?”

“Oh! Um, okay!” You wrapped your hand around his, your body pressed against his side as you helped him stir it. “Just like this, okay?”

“Just like that.” he mumbled, his body leaning into yours. You two stood there for a solid minute, just stirring the potion in silence. It was weird and strange, but something about it felt right. Once the potion turned a bright purple, you pulled away. “Okay! Um, here. We’ll pour it into here.” You pulled out a small spritzer bottle, opening it up. Hook helped you pour the potion into the bottle and you closed it up, handing it to him.

“Just spritz it on the flowers, like you’re watering plants.” you explained, putting the vase of wilted flowers in front of him. “If I spritz it on myself will I turn into, like, a baby or something?” he asked.

“Do not do that. Just water the flowers, James.”

He giggled, spritzing the flowers with the potion. Within seconds, the once dead flowers had practically sprung to life. Hook grinned, picking up one of the flowers and examining it. “These look incredible. Here, for you.” He extended his arm, offering the flower to you. “For being a great teacher.” You blushed, taking the flower from him. “That’s incredibly sweet of you, James. Didn’t think you had that kind of side to you.”

“I’m full of surprises, Ms. Wonderland. Like, for instance… I can juggle, or at least I used to be able to. I could juggle.” You set the flower back into the vase. “I’m sorry if this comes off the wrong way, but why’re you being so… nice?”

Hook scoffed, but you could tell that it was in more of a playful way. “I’m mean, not heartless. You’re helping me pass this class, and I appreciate it.”

“Well… I’m always here to help.” You started to clean up the ingredients on your desk. Hook sat on your bed, watching you. “Why’re you so shy? I mean, you and your sister are so… different.”

You shrugged. “I’ve always been this way. It was hard making friends back home, I never really felt like I fit in. So, I just… shut everyone out. Can’t have a hard time making friends if you stop trying. It’s been a little easier since coming here, but I just prefer keeping to myself, y’know? Makes everything less complicated.”

“I see. Well, I know that you already think about me in a certain way. But, I would like to think that we’re friends of some sort.”

“Your friends would hate me, James. I appreciate it, but I think that that’s a bad idea.” you sighed, finishing putting the rest of the jars away. “Um, you can go, if you’d like. You don’t have to stick around.”

Hook stayed where he was. “No, I think I’ll stay here. We’re friends, now whether you want us to be or not. So, come here, let’s talk.”

You hesitated before sitting down next to him. “We have nothing in common. You’re doing this just to prove some sort of point.” He took your hand in his. “I know that I have a very bad track record, and I know that I’m not exactly the greatest person. But, I think you’re nice. You’re nice, even when you definitely shouldn’t be.”

Your heart felt like it was running a marathon in that moment. Your hand felt so tiny and fragile in his. The coldness of the rings on his fingers brought you back to reality. “It’s getting late, James, curfew is gonna start soon.” You got up, going over to the door. “I will see you in class on Thursday, don’t forget what I taught you.”

He got up, making his way over to you. “Thank you for being a great teacher. I’ll see you around.” he said, winking at you before walking out. You shut the door behind him, sinking to the floor. If anything, your crush had gotten worse. You waited a few minutes to make sure Hook was gone before getting up and racing to Bridget’s room.

“Okay, okay! How’d it go?” Bridget asked, leading you to her bed to sit down. “There are no tears, so that’s a very good sign.” You groaned, flopping back onto her bed. “It was awful, B! He was so nice and he said that we’re friends!”

Ella and Bridget looked at each other with pure confusion. “I don’t think you know what awful means.” Ella said. You sat up, “I wanted my crush to be gone! But, he held my hand and he gave me a flower! A flower!” you exclaimed.

“It sounds like he has a little bit of a crush too.” Bridget pointed out. “Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

“And risk getting rejected and humiliated? Yeah, I think I’ll pass. It’s just a stupid crush, it will go away.” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your fists. Bridget rubbed your back. “You can’t just will your feelings away. I think that you should talk to him about it.”

“I…” you trailed off. “I will think about it. But, I just don’t think I can do that to myself. I can’t be hurt like that.” Bridget pulled you into a hug, resting her chin on the top of your head. “You’re an amazing girl, as well as the best little sister I could possibly ask for. If he doesn’t think that you’re amazing, then he isn’t worth it. Okay? You’re great, and I want you to find someone who makes you feel that way.”

“You always know what to say, even if I don’t want you to say it.” Bridget giggled, pulling away to look at you. “I know. It’s my job as a big sister. Now, go get some sleep. You have class early in the morning.”

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner, getting up. “Fine, mom. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Ella!” You gave them both a wave before leaving, heading back to your dorm.

It was the next day, and you were more or less avoiding Hook. Not that you didn’t appreciate your time together, but you could not look him in the eyes without feeling like your legs were about to turn to jello. You were sat at one of the many tables outside, quietly eating your lunch. From an outsiders perspective, you probably looked sad and lonely. But, you enjoyed the peace and quiet.

“Hey, lass! I’ve been looking for you all day!” Hook sat down next to you, making you almost jump out of your skin. “You scared me, Hook! Give a girl a warning!” you exclaimed. He giggled, leaning against you. “Sorry, sorry. So, how are you?”

“I’m… good?” You still didn’t understand why he was being so nice to you. Surely it had to be a part of some evil plan or something. The VKs aren’t nice to anyone. “Okay, what’s going on here? First the flower, now you’re seeking me out? Is this like a sick little mind game?”

Hook’s expression was one of hurt, but he quickly shook it off. “That’s not it at all. Ya know, I was very, how do you say… open minded about you. So why can’t you do the same?” You frowned, feeling a pit of nervousness in your stomach. “I… James, you have to understand where I’m coming from. You, um, don’t have the greatest reputation.”

“Yes, and I’m trying to show you that I’m more than that. I’m not going to lie and say that what you hear isn’t who I am, but I do have feelings.” he sighed. You sat there for a moment, just staring at him. “Okay, James. You gave me a chance, I’m going to give you one. But, just so you know, I do know how to turn you into a frog.” You hesitated for a moment before scooting closer to him. “It’s hard for me to open up to people, but if you’re going to put in the effort then I’ll do the same.”

He grinned, his eyes quickly flickering up and down as he checked you out. He didn’t even know who you were before you two got partnered up, but the night before made something click in his brain. You were shy and reserved, but when you opened up you were charming and sweet. It was a total change from the girls he usually sought, but it felt right. You were a change, a good change.

“Hey, my eyes are up here!” you giggled, nudging his arm. “If you’re gonna look at me like that, at least take me out first.” Hook shrugged, accepting your challenge. “Okay. Meet me at the lake tonight around seven. Bring a towel, don’t be late.” He got up, patting your arm before walking off. You sat there, your jaw dropped as you watched him walk away.

What just happened?

The Enchanted Lake was a pretty popular hangout spot where students went to swim and lounge on those especially hot days. You were sat on one of the many rocks, waiting for James to arrive. Your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest. You had never been on a date before, or on anything date adjacent. Was this even a date? As the minutes passed by, your mind started racing as well. He must’ve stood you up, that’s the only reasonable explanation.

“You okay, darling?”

You turned around, seeing Hook standing behind you. He was wearing a basic black t-shirt and maroon swim trunks, very different from his usual wardrobe. He looked cute. “Yeah, um, I’m fine!” You got up, going over to him. “It’s nice out tonight. Wanna go for a swim?” he asked. “Is that not why we’re here, Hook?” you replied.

He set his towel down, pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it near the towel. You blushed, your eyes darting to look anywhere else. “You’re acting like I’m streaking, princess. Don’t be so shy.” He sat down on the ledge of the rock before pushing himself into the water. “Come on, it’s nice in here!”

You groaned, putting your towel down next to his before joining him. You started to shiver as the cold water touched your skin. “It is not nice, James! My legs are freezing!” you complained, wrapping your arms around yourself to maintain warmth. He swam over to you. “What’s your definition of freezing, darling?”

“This!” you exclaimed, your teeth chattering. He stood up, wrapping his arms around you. You completely froze in your spot. Hook was hugging you. His bare skin was touching yours. Your legs? Jello. Your heart? Rocketed out of your chest. “There, now you should be nice and warm.”

“Mhm.” you mumbled. It was like someone had doused the circuit board in your brain with a gallon of water. “Is this okay? I can let go.” he said, starting to pull his arms away. “No!” you exclaimed, your face bright red. “No, it’s okay.” He grinned, his hand resting on your waist.

The two of you stayed like that for a bit, your head moving to rest on his shoulder. “I’ve never done anything like this before.” you admitted, looking up at him. He looked puzzled. “I’ve, uh, never been on any sort of date before. I’m sorry if I’m being really awkward, I just don’t know what I’m doing.”

Hook reached his hand up, brushing your hair out of your face. “That doesn’t matter to me. I’m having fun. But you know what would make this even more fun?” he asked. “Going to the kitchen and making hot chocolate?” you responded hopefully. He pulled away from you, his hook resting against your back and his hand scooping your legs up. “What’re you doing, James?!” you giggled, holding onto him. He gave you a countdown from three before throwing you into the water.

When you came up to the surface, Hook swam over to you, barely able to breathe from how much he was laughing. You rolled your eyes, splashing water at his face. “Oh, come on, princess! Let loose and have some fun!” He stood up, taking your hand and pulling you closer so your chests were pressed together. “You’re a jerk, James!”

“You don’t mean that.” he teased, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “Oh, I do.” you replied, your body language saying otherwise as you completely melted into his touch. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, as if he was silently asking for permission. You took a deep breath, your thoughts finally calming for the first time that night.

Screw it.

You grabbed his cheeks, standing on your tiptoes to pull him into a kiss. He immediately reciprocated, his hand running through your wet hair. His lips were soft and warm, and it was clear that he definitely had experience in the kissing department. He was one of the school’s biggest flirts, after all.

You pulled away from the kiss after what felt like centuries. “I’m sorry if that was bad, I’m new to all of this-”

“Shh, I’ve gotcha.” he whispered, his hand still lingering in your hair. “I know we don’t exactly have a lot in common. But, I would like to get to know you better. If that’s what you want.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I would like that a lot. Meet me in my dorm after class tomorrow? We could, um, watch a movie or something?”

“I would love that, princess.”

a/n: … part 2? 👀

#_emily’s writing_#descendants #descendants the rise of red #the rise of red #descendants x reader #descendants the rise of red x reader #the rise of red x reader #james hook #james hook x reader #young hook #young hook x reader #young james hook x reader

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saylor-twift · 6 months ago

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“he loves you, but he would never say that to your face.”

“-but he would never admit that.”

“-but he would never tell you.”

???

Are you sure? I am an avid tumblr stalker, and I’ve read so many things on silly little hat man in my time. I’ve seen things that tore my heart to pieces, that patched it up, that made me want to rip my guts out and throw up, that made me feel on top of the world.

And yet this is the one thing that bothers me so very much. I know, everyone has their own interpretations and opinions on different characters. So let me share my own.

The Wanderer is such a deeply written and intricate character, strung together with deep fears and insecurities, tragic backstories, and a beautiful story of change, healing, and moving forward. (I hate hate hate it when he is forced down to the level of nothing but oversexualization and “uwu sexy anime boy”, but that’s a conversation for another time.)

I’m sure if you’re reading this, you’re probably acquainted with Wanderer’s backstory, so I’m not going to explain. A lot of shit happened that made him who he is, and ever since the events of Irminsul, he has taken on a new path that he cannot go back on. Not like he’d ever want to. He said it himself, he never had any intention of returning to the Fatui. (And also- why choose to go backwards when you’ve got such a nice path set ahead of you?)

Anyways, point is, he’s changing. Notice how I said changing. He’s not changed, he’s just starting to. He’s getting there. Which brings me back to my argument. In the case that Wanderer ends up with a partner, things are certainly not going to be like a normal relationship. (He’s got plenty of red flags, don’t even try to deny it. But he’s a fictional character, so I suppose we can let this one slide.) Is he going to make the first move? That depends on if you make him desperate enough. Otherwise, it’s all on you, babe.

He’s not going to take it well. He’s going to deny it as hard as he can. You don’t love him, how can you? He is the furthest thing from loveable as you can get on this godforsaken planet. (His thoughts, not mine) But he certainly loves you, and, albeit with some likely pressuring assistance from Nahida, he’s come to terms with that terrifying knowledge.

“But he wouldn’t admit that to you.”

STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.

Here is where my controversial opinion comes in. Most people tend to portray Wanderer as this cold, cut-off, aloof and irritable man, even in a relationship. And before you say anything, no, I absolutely do not think he would be the lovey-dovey, sappy, overly caring and romantic type. He’s not on either end of the spectrum, but I do think he’s somewhere in the middle (but probably leaning towards the former side).

Love is so, so very scary to him. And downright unknown. He’s traversing into uncharted waters here, give him some space to figure things out. That being said, he’s testing these waters. He’s not going to say he loves you at the beginning of a relationship. He has to make sure this thing is going to work. Your relationship is a newly built bridge, and those three words are the heavy cargo passing through. Without a strong foundation, the bridge is going to collapse, no questions asked. The only problem is, it’s going to take a long, long time to build that bridge. It’s going to be more expensive, more time consuming, and cost more materials than you had originally bargained for.

But that cargo can’t sit on one side of the bridge forever, can it? No, it has to get to the other side at some point. So if you have the patience to give your time to this bridge, the cargo will find its way to the other side. The foundation may wobble, the planks may shake, but the bridge isn’t going down.

He loves you, and he would admit it out loud. He would say it to your face. Just maybe not as soon as you want it. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to wonder if he actually cares for you or not. Fear not, because if you pay attention to those little things he does when you’re not looking, it will feed you those little crumbs you need till you can finally be satiated when the full meal is done cooking. He mends things for you, things you had given up on because you’d never have the time nor energy to do it yourself. He cooks, and surprisingly, it’s always your preferences. He collects things that remind him of you, some he keeps out of embarrassment, and some he leaves on your bedsheets whenever you’re not home.

He’s been hurt, abandoned, and betrayed far too many times to immediately let himself fall into something as complicated as a relationship. He’s going to be distant, you’re going to disagree, probably fight a bit. He’s just seeing how far he can bend the lines, how much you really want him. (red flag maybe!! but he’s working on it, it’s going to be okay. mayyyybe you can look past just this one…) If you won’t leave even if he does this, then he thinks, maybe you’re the one. Maybe fate decides to treat him benevolently for once.

And when you finally, finally get to that point, he’s going to drown you so deep you can never get out. He’ll say he loves you, does everything in his power to make sure you never forget it. (no, he’s not going to read you love poems in the moonlight and call you darling. sorry if that’s your thing, that’s not who he is.)

This relationship will never be perfect, but relationships never are. Just as long as the two of you are willing to be patient with the other and get through your differences and clashing personalities, you are going to mold together perfectly. And even if he doesn’t say it often, (which he probably won’t. he’s certain you know it. why repeat something already ingrained into your mind? he doesn’t use those words lightly), it’s not like he’ll never say it. He won’t leave you in the dark for too long. He loves you, don’t worry. He’ll say it, but he prefers to show it.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #saylor’s thoughts #wanderer #wanderer x reader #hoyoverse #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #he’s so mean lowkey but i love him #i mean #he really would try to be better for you #why would he want to be the cause of your suffering #it’s hard for him to say sorry tho #but i think he could do it with time

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cuubism · 1 month ago

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I REALLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYY LOVE YOUR BELOVED PROFESSOR DREAM FIC!!!!!!!! PEOPLE TEND TO FORGET THAT!!! EVEN IN CANON!!!! HES FULL OF LOVE!!!! AND PASSION!!! AND HE CARES SO MUCH IT LITERALLY DOOMS HIM!!!!! AND IF ONLY HES BEING GIVEN A MUCH MORE KINDER CIRCUMSTANCES!! HE WOULD BEHAVES EXACTLY LIKE YOUR FIC!!! I FEEL SO CRAZT!!!! PLEASE NEVER DIE I LOVE YPUR WORKS SO MUCH!!!

I've grown quite fond of him myself 🥺 @five-and-dimes and I discussed him at length and created more lore for him. It was determined that Dream's earnest whimsy probably got him bullied a lot when he was younger. Not since he met Hob though.... it's probably a coincidence 🤷‍♀️ surely everyone just realized the error of their ways and decided to grow up and be kinder! Dream knew it would happen some day :)

Dream is still reeling as he reaches the cafe where he's meant to get afternoon coffee with Hob. He feels a bit shaky, but happy. Joyful. In disbelief.

When Cori had cornered him after class, Dream had been sure he was going to shove him up against a wall, or throw his books on the ground, or any of the other number of things he seemed to get satisfaction out of doing. He'd clutched his books tight, bracing himself.

Instead, Cori had, with halting, uncomfortable words, apologized to him. Actually apologized! Dream had been wary at first, sure it was just another way to hurt his feelings--he's been called gullible many times and he knows there's truth to it--but Cori hadn't taken it back, or suddenly turned on him again like he had every other time Dream had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed genuine.

It was what Dream had always wanted, what he had always hoped for, so decided to take it and just pray that Cori wouldn't change his mind again in the future. Or trip him as he walked away.

He didn't, though. And as Dream left to walk to his next class, he couldn't help but feel victorious. He knew he would get through to him eventually! He'd always known that eventually people would grow out of their juvenile pranks and learn to treat others better. And finally it was starting to happen.

None of the other usual suspects bothered him that day, either. Nobody tried to trip him, or snickered when he said something overly sentimental in class. It was like overnight the world had woken up and decided to better itself. It was magical.

So he's still shaking a bit when he sits down across from Hob, who's already gotten him his mocha latte. When he doesn't say anything at first, just takes several long sips of his drink, Hob nudges his leg under the table.

"Everything alright?"

"Cori," Dream says, "apologized to me."

He must have milk foam on his lip, for Hob reaches across the table to wipe it away with his thumb, lingering on the corner of Dream's mouth. "Did he?"

Dream nods. "It- it did not seem to be a joke. Hob, I think he actually learned."

Hob smiles sweetly. "That's great, honey."

"Nobody tripped me today," Dream muses. "Or made fun of what I said in class. I cannot believe it. I knew that eventually people would grow up and learn how to treat others kindly, but it's startling to see it happen in real time."

"They must have learned from your example," Hob says. He takes Dream's hand on the table and starts playing idly with his fingers. Hob is very touchy-feely with him, always holding his hand, or playing with his fingers like they're a fidget toy, or petting his hair while they're lying in bed together. Dream found it strange at first. He was used to others he had attempted to date wanting to rough him up a little. When he questioned it, they would say, with a laugh, you're just too sheltered. Dream didn't think he was, particularly, he just didn't understand wanting to push someone around. At least not without finding out if they even liked it.

When Dream mentioned it, Hob had said, with a grimace, that Dream's kindness could be misinterpreted as innocence, and it made people want to 'corrupt him.' Dream didn't get it, but there were a lot of things he 'didn't get', at least according to other people. In any case, Hob didn't do that, because he knew Dream didn't like it, so Dream is content now. And he has Hob to at least attempt to interpret other people's odd behavior for him.

"I hope it sticks," he says, worriedly. "I would hate for Cori and the others to backslide now that they're finally making progress."

"Oh, don't worry," Hob says, bringing Dream's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. He looks at Dream over their joined hands, gaze absolutely sure, a look that never fails to make Dream shiver pleasantly when it's directed at him. "I think it'll stick."

#dream: i'm so happy the world is becoming kinder :)#hob leaning over his shoulder holding a knife and glaring at anyone they meet: yeah honey it's nice!#really this ficlet is about the pain of always taking people at their word and being tricked again and again. and just being told 'you #shouldn't be so gullible' or 'youre too naive you can't trust people like that' etc #dream IS kind of naive but instead of telling him not to be hob is like 'if anyone messes with his good and trusting nature i WILL actually #kill you :)' he loves his bf who is so kind and just wants to see the best in people #i think dream might figure out what happened eventually but not for like 10 years 😂#dreamling #ask #anonymous #my writing

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wandasaura · 1 month ago

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okay but what was R’s best orgasm that happened last Christmas? 👀 from your latest fic

this is from two months ago… i have no idea what fic we’re talking about so i’m just gonna tell you about ducky’s best orgasm… so… i hope thats okay with you

well to start, it’s somewhat of a competition (war) in the maximoff-romanova household. natasha claims that from her perspective, she gives you the best orgasms. she will analyze the patterns in your behavior over the course of months, just so when the conversation gets brought up again — which it inevitably always does — she can clap back at wanda with admissible proof that physically, she provides the best orgasms. she will also never shy away from bragging about how you turn to absolute mush in her arms after a scene, how you come undone so beautifully and give yourself to her entirely. because while she’s trying to factually assert her superiority, she’s also just a lesbian fucking her girlfriend really good… like really good (verbatim what she screamed across the living room at wanda during one rehashing).

wanda doesn’t even bother to bring her own facts to the discussion despite knowing natasha will pry at her like she’s on the stand for murder, she’s so confident in herself that she lets natasha just argue at her, sometimes natasha’s been going at her with facts for something close to three minutes, and wanda will just get so fed up with her wife that she sets her glare on ducky, accent thicker than all hell, and simply remind ducky of her title, of how she’s mommy. poor girl folds instantly every time and natasha just stomps away in frustration, although she’s literally thinking about wanda gives her some of the best orgasms of her life… which then prompts her to think that she really couldn’t pick between ducky or wanda.

this is natasha’s roman empire actually. she’ll randomly be sending emails and will just sit there and contemplate how ducky and wanda give her pleasure in such different ways. in the soft moments she steals with ducky, ducky always gravitates towards her thighs, while wanda will take her time up top. and then she gets horny and ends up texting wanda, which then just leads to them all teasing each other and pissing each other off because all three of them are meant to be doing their actual jobs… i’m telling you it’s literally all in good fun though. they’re lawyers… i think they just have a fear of losing their skill if they stop arguing and rebutting… poor ducky actually, sometimes they’re just so… in it… she knows she’d never survive actually seeing them in action

but ducky! she is just like natasha when it comes to organizing the facts and fantasizing about fucking her girlfriends on the daily . she will tell you when the best orgasm of her life occurred specifically (because she’s the only one who actually knows how to directly answer a question, or rather, the only one who didn’t endure like seven years of law school and cannot be bothered with stupid banter), but she has three categories and events.the first category is natasha, the second category is wanda, and the third category is the orgasms when they do it together.

natasha’s best orgasm was in the winter time the semester after they extended the contract. ducky was stressed, exhausted, overworked, honestly you name it, the poor girl was it. she was at the point where she had so many things going through her mind, and she was so tired that she was energized. she was staying on campus because the workload was getting to be too much to balance with a commute and an internship, and in a few weeks she’d somewhat stopped communicating with wanda and natasha. they talked on the phone, sometimes they’d go up to visit ducky whenever their breaks aligned with a gap in her schedule, but she was so preoccupied with a million other things that she just couldn’t give them a piece of her. she barely was herself with the sleep deprivation and the stress. she turned up at the house at eleven, searching for wanda. she was an absolute brat to natasha, huffing and rolling her eyes, getting annoyed when she kept being told that wanda was busy — which she was. there was a major issue in a contract that needed immediate attention. definitely not the kind of thing they could delegate or allow to sit on a desk — but ducky just wasn’t getting it. natasha was full on daddy mode at that point, and after an hour of teasing and edging and spanking, she finally let ducky cum as wanda walked into the bedroom.

wanda’s best orgasm is on the shore. they’d both been woken up around the same time in the middle of the night and been unable to fall back to sleep before tourist season, and so they’d sporadically decided to make a trip down to the shore to make the most of their early start to the day to see the sunrise. all they brought was a towel… which it is not ducky, nor wanda’s, proudest moment that they got so caught up in a makeout session that wanda fingered ducky on a towel in the middle of a public beach (granted it was empty) at 3 in the morning. it wasn’t even the most physically overpowering orgasm, but it was the way wanda somewhat collapsed on top of her afterward and nuzzled her face into her neck, giggling and mumbling about they’d just acted like horny teenagers. it was a rare moment where it was only wanda with ducky. it’s so hard for wanda to let go of everything, of mommy, of lawyer, of dominant. she craves the control, the discipline, and she panics when she doesn’t have it, so she’s always compensating for something, trying to mask the vulnerabilities she doesn’t want known. ducky just felt so loved in that moment, she doesn’t care that wanda’s also eaten her out until she passed out… but it’s also definitely up there.

and the best together orgasm was on her birthday. they’d been teasing her all fucking day. like all day. wanda woke her up by fingering her, natasha then insisted on showering together and washing her body for her, which was just a lot of lingering touchy feely, and then wanda had laid her accent on thick all through breakfast, uttering the most sickly sweet near condensing praise out of nowhere. thats what really got ducky, was how they’d be having a conversation and wanda would just… absolutely melt her brain. and then at lunch natasha snuck up behind ducky, hugging her tight, and not so subtly grinding her strap into ducky’s ass. and then wanda AND natasha had been touchy feely annoying teases during dinner and the drive home. and then took turns fucking her when they got home. to the point where she was basically mush until the following afternoon? yeah ducky thinks about that a lot

anyways ducky’s actual answer is wanda. she refuses to admit this tho. wanda literally knows tho

#[ 🪩⊹ ] — aura’s mailbox!#yail: asks #a: anon #answered.#minors dni ৎ୭ #brought to you by highura 🍃

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strawb3rryscorpio · 1 year ago

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Saw your recent post saw a Dominic fike tag maybe dating headcannons?

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

most romantic mf on the planet. like i mean weekly date nights, flowers & gifts at random times. and he insists he does all of that because he wants to make up for the time he spends in the studio so you can’t really complain with 2k hanging from your neck!

pet names!!!!! from the both of you. you will almost never call each other by your actual name. literally anything from babe, baby, love, sweetheart, honey, angel and everything in between.

backtracking to date nights. if it’s something more casual, you’ll catch a movie and then go out for dinner or you’ll walk around town and window shop. if it’s something formal though, you’ll get dressed up and eat out at a fancy restaurant and then explore the area afterwards talking about anything and everything.

he would definitely get you to listen to his new music before anyone else. and in all honesty he only considers and trusts your opinion on what he should and shouldn’t release.

you would be his number one supporter no matter what project he was working on. you’d attend as many shows as possible and watch from backstage or even in front of barricade. you’d also go to visit him on set if he was filming something, which he really enjoys.

while on the topic of music, he is definitely the master of writing tacky songs and then playing them on the guitar. you both know it’s cringe and you can’t help but break into fits of laughter every time he does it but deep down you absolutely love it.

like he’ll notice you being upset and he’ll tell you to give him five minutes, and before you know it, he’s back and singing some lyrics about how beautiful you are and how he hates when you’re upset.

dumb arguments about dumb things are a given. whether it’s about a missing sweater or who has to do the dishes. no matter who started it, he will always be the first to apologize. (he’s for that princess treatment)

he’s also pretty jealous but not in a toxic or harmful way. he knows his limits and he knows he can trust you but sometimes he cannot help but start imaginary beef with any man that makes conversation with you.

you’d be the IT couple at every event with your matching outfits every time!!! anytime you attend an event together the pictures end up blowing up on social media.

you’d be everyone’s favourite/comfort couple. every time you post some dumb tiktok with him, it’ll end up going viral with tons of likes and comments.

he’s very clingy and i stand by that. your doing laundry? he’s following you around. at an event? he’s trailing behind you. even to the bathroom. you’re running errands? he’s up and ready to go.

you’d assume the clinginess would get annoying at times, but you absolutely love it.

enjoying the most mundane activities together. like folding laundry, cooking, cleaning and doing your skincare.

he’s is 100% the type to say that a moment is cute out loud and ruin the moment. it makes you laugh out loud every time he does it.

you’ll be sitting out on the balcony smoking a joint and he’ll say something along the lines of, ‘this is like out of a movie’. you’ll laugh but you agree. ‘dom, when you say it out loud, it ruins it!’

while on the topic of smoking, you guys spend every saturday night out on the balcony smoking a joint or hitting a bong and just talking about random shit and giggling the entire time.

posting each other all the time. he’s always posting cute pictures of you on his story and feed and you’ll post cute pictures of you two together.

his family would absolutely adore you. you’d have girls day with his little sister quite often. you and his mom would call each other often and catch up.

he’s really sensitive even though he might not seem like it. you always watch him closely at events or even during nights out with friends to see if anything is bothering him or if someone’s pissing him off. to you, he’s very easy to read and you know exactly what to do.

you are also so open with each other about every little thing. you’re the definitely the couple that tells each other the tiniest little details about your day. you’ll get texts from each other like ‘just ate an apple’, ‘i put chia seeds in my smoothie’. and just cute things like that.

bomb. ass. sex. do i even need to elaborate??? it’s just so good and keeps you both happy and the relationship super healthy.

super touchy too!! throughout the day he has to have a hand on your boob, thigh, over your shoulder, or on your hip. literally anywhere at all times.

being the ushy gushiest couple ever !!!!!!!

—————————————————

h speaks🪽: i am obviously speaking from experience. i hope you enjoyed and be sure to request anything you’d like!!! appreciate anyone who reads my work it means a lot 💝

#dominic fike #imagine #dominic fike x reader #fanfiction #euphoria #headcanon #sunburn #dontstareatthesun #dominic #writer #euphoria x fem!reader #elliot #elliot x y/n #elliot euphoria #elliothbo

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heavcnslyre · 1 year ago

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chapter three — j.f. ( masterlist )

LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER.

“maybe i'm too young to keep good love from going wrong

but tonight, you're on my mind so, you’ll never know”

taglist: @jellybassett @glowingtree

(authors note PLEASE READ: you guys are the SWEETEST ever omg the amount of love i’ve gotten on this so far is insane. i appreciate, and reread over and over again, every single comment or reblog i get, it genuinely keeps me so motivated to write and i appreciate you guys so so much you have no idea. i haven’t written in forever so i excepted no one to like this fic but so far you guys have proven that to be not true and it brings me so much joy. i plan for this to be long!! idek how many parts i’m just gonna keep writing chapters until the story ends!! i cannot guarantee how often updates will be but i’ll write my ass off as much as i can for a while!! all the love in the world to you guys!!! enjoy!!)

you wake up the next morning with no messages from peter. this, usually wouldn’t be strange since he often slept in later than you, but he didn’t even reply to your message from last night at ten thirty. he never went to bed earlier than two in the morning. a gross, nervous feeling creeps up on you. you try to shake it off, thinking that maybe he just fell asleep early when he hadn’t heard from you. that’s what you would keep telling yourself.

downstairs in the kitchen, steven and jeremiah were sitting on stools at the counter, comparing their cereals. belly was at the table, studying the pancakes she was eating. susannah was cooking more pancakes at the stove. “morning (y/n)!” susannah greets you as you enter the room. jeremiah looks up at you and when you make eye contact, he gives you a forced smile and then looks back down at his cereal. he’d been acting weird since last night, when you told him about peter. it actually sort of made you feel bad, that you didn’t tell him sooner. he was clearly bothered by it or offended about you not telling him. the last thing you wanted to do was make things weird between the two of you, and that’s exactly what you did.

“morning susannah,” you smile at her. “can i have some pancakes?”

“absolutely you can!” she exclaims, flipping a pancake over onto a plate. “give me two minutes and they’ll be ready.”

“thanks susannah,” you say then walk over to sit with belly at the table. she smiles at you, her mouth full of pancakes.

“what are you doing today?” she asks you. you shrug.

“dunno. what were you thinking?”

“you should take me driving,” belly smiles cheekily. you laugh. she always asked to go driving ever since you got your license, but you didn’t mind. she had told you before that she trusted you the most to teach her how to drive without being too judgmental.

“sure, bells,” you say. “you can drive me into town to grab some stuff from the store.”

“bonfire tonight, (y/n),” steven turns to face you. “don’t forget.”

you nod. “would never.”

“can i go?” belly asks, looking between the two of you. steven looks at jeremiah then laughs.

“belly, that’s not really your scene,” steven says. “you’ve never gone before.”

“well i wanna go now,” she looks at you. “please?”

you look at steven, who shakes his head. you shrug. “i don’t know, belly. isn’t tonight usually your movie night?”

“it is,” susannah appears with a plate of pancakes for you. you thank her as she sets them down. “but we could always reschedule if belly wanted to go to a party with her siblings.”

“see?” belly says. “even susannah doesn’t think it’s a bad idea.”

“don’t get me too involved, now,” susannah tucks belly’s hair behind her ear. “i have no opinion on the matter except for i want you to do whatever makes you happiest.”

“i think you should come, belly,” jeremiah speaks up for the first time since you’ve gotten downstairs. everyone turns to look at him and he shrugs. he won’t look at you. “it would be fun if you were there.”

“it’s decided then,” belly says. “i’m going with!”

“better make sure it’s okay with mom first,” steven tells her, but she waves him off, finishing her pancakes and going to rinse off her plate.

“(y/n), i’ll be in the pool. come get me when you’re ready to go!”

“thirty minutes after eating before you can swim!” susannah calls out to her, but belly was already gone. susannah shakes her head, but there’s a smile on that face. “that girl.”

soon enough, you and belly are in the car, her driving you both into town. the music was blasting and the windows were down, hair whipping everywhere, but neither of you cared.

“what do you have to get from town?” belly asks.

“some hair stuff and i wanna go to that one boutique we found last year and see if they have anything cute,” you reply. she grins.

“i completely forgot about that place!”

“me too until i was packing for this trip and found my skirt i got from there last year,” you and belly had always looked around different shops in town, mainly window-shopping and judging the clothes that were sold in those shops. they were so extremely over priced and half of them looked like something your grandmother would wear. that was, until last summer, when you found the most gorgeous hot pink skirt on a sale rack at a new boutique. you could not stop thinking about it after you left, so the next day you and belly went back so that you could buy it. you wore that skirt constantly. the thing you remembered most about it was the way that jeremiah had looked at you the first time you had worn it. he made you feel so special just from one look, so that skirt became a staple piece in your wardrobe after that. when you started dating peter, you stopped wearing the skirt. it was such a small, meaningless idea that he looked at you special when you wore a random skirt, but it meant a lot to you at the same time. enough that it felt like betrayal to pack the skirt to bring to cousins, so you left it at home.

you and belly spend the afternoon at the shops, picking out outfits for each other to try and laughing at the ridiculousness you put each other through. as you’re getting ready to leave, before she starts the car, belly turns to you. “(y/n).”

“what’s up bells?”

“have you noticed anything…different, about conrad?” she sounds hesitant to ask you, and almost whispers his name. you sigh.

“sorta,” you say. “i was talking to jere last night and he told me that things were weird with him. he doesn’t know why, but it’s been months. he quit the football team.”

“what!?” belly exclaims. “no way. he loves football, i thought he was gonna play in college.”

you shrug. “so did everyone. he just changed things out of nowhere. jere said that he won’t ever say anything and pretends nothing is wrong, but he hasn’t really tried talking to him. you know how guys are with each other. talking about stuff like that does not come easy.”

belly nods, staring down at the steering wheel. you touch her arm gently. “hey, maybe you should talk to him.”

“me?”

“yeah bells. he’s happier around you, even if you don’t see it. maybe he’ll talk to you.”

she sighs. “i don’t know (y/n). he seems mad at me. like, every time we’ve talked, he is so different,” she glances over at you. “you know how i feel about him. i just…i hate the thought of losing him.”

“you won’t. i promise you, you won’t. he’ll open up. you sure as hell did not do anything wrong, it’s probably just something small he needs to work through. everything will work itself out.”

belly smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i think i would go crazy without you.”

“that is exactly what a big sister is for.”

she starts the car and begins to drive away. “so, another thing… do you think i should be a debutant?”

“a debutant?” you ask, shocked. “belly, when i was considering it last summer you seemed disgusted.”

“i know,” she sighs. “but susannah asked me to do it…and i know she was bummed when you didn’t do it last year so i just figured….” she trails off, but she didn’t have to finish. susannah had asked you last year to be a deb and you were going to do it, you really were. you even started looking for dresses and planning everything. that was, until jeremiah announced that he had no intention of ever being an escort to the deb ball. it had felt like such an indirect that it completely killed all of your interest in the ball. he was the only person you had even considered asking to be your escort, and he so openly hated the idea of being one, so you figured that was a sign that it wasn’t right for you. if you were honest, you always regretted it.

“you should do it,” you say after a while. “you’re right, it would make susannah happy. and i’m sure you’ll have no problem finding an escort. it’d be a lot of fun to watch.”

“you think so?”

“definitely.”

belly nods, but doesn’t say anything, focusing on the road. you do the same thing, staring forward. part of you still wondered if jeremiah would have been your escort if you had asked. the other part of you hates yourself for thinking that you would be the exception.

later that night, you’re standing and staring at your closet, trying to figure out what to wear to the bonfire. you brought a few dresses and skirts, but suddenly, you hated everything you owned. this bonfire was super fun every year and the best way to start out the summer, so you felt so much pressure to pick out something cute.

“hey,” jeremiah appears in your doorway, ready to go. “you about ready?”

“yeah,” you sigh. “just gotta figure out what to wear.”

“hm,” he thinks for a second, walking towards your closet. “you still have that pink skirt from last summer? that was good.”

you look down. “uh, left it at home.”

“oh,” he says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. then, he clears his throat and turns his back to you, facing your clothes. he looks for a second before grabbing a blue sundress and handing it to you. “here. this is perfect.”

you look at the dress and smile. it was one of your favorite dresses, simple and comfortable but super cute. of course jeremiah would pick out a sundress for you to wear. he always claimed that girls in sundresses were his weakness.

“okay. get out so i can change,” you push him out the door and he laughs as you do, allowing you to close the door in his face. you change quickly and find a pair of sandals to go with the dress, check your hair and makeup one last time, then you went downstairs to meet everyone else. conrad and belly were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, steven in the middle of them (which looked like it was awkward for all three of them), and jeremiah sat in the chair by the couch, staring at his phone. when steven sees you come down, he shoots up from his seat and claps his hands. “alright! let’s get going! jere’s driving, i call shotgun!”

you make eye contact with jeremiah who smiles at you after looking you up and down. you feel yourself blush at his gaze. he always did this to you. you felt so special just by him looking at you. it was stupid, honestly. that’s just how he was.

the five of you pile out of the house and into jeremiah’s car, you, conrad, and belly squished into the back while steven and jeremiah sat in the front seat of the car, singing their hearts out to taylor swifts ‘cruel summer.’ they were insane when it came to her music, but neither of them would ever admit it.

as soon as you arrive at the beach, steven jumps out of the car. he’s halfway to the fire by the time you even open your car door, and conrad and jeremiah are following close behind him, leaving you and belly to walk down on your own. you glance over at belly, who is staring at the group of people on the beach, a nervous look on her face. you throw your arm around her. “it’ll be okay bells. it’s actually fun here, promise. just…don’t talk to anyone weird. or too old. and if you get uncomfortable just come find me. we’ll figure it out.”

she smiles at you gratefully. “thank you, (y/n). i’ll be okay. you go have fun with your friends.”

you squeeze her shoulder gently as your friend nicole waves you over. “love you bells.”

“love you too.”

you hurry over to nicole and hug her tightly. “oh, nicole! it’s so good to see you!”

“it’s so good to see you too!” she exclaims. as you pull away from the hug, she offers you a beer and you take it. “how have you been?”

“so good,” you tell her. “the school year was great and i actually have a boyfriend back home!”

“ohhh!!” nicole squeals. “what’s his name? how long have you been together? tell me everything.”

you fill her in on all of the details of your relationship, with her squealing excitedly at the end of almost every sentence. as soon as you finish talking, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and turn to see your friend shayla. it was your turn to squeal in excitement as you hug her tightly, then nicole does the same.

“shayla! i didn’t know you were coming this early!” nicole exclaims. shayla shrugs.

“yeah, mum and dad decided we’d come now rather than later,” shayla replies. “deb season, you know? they want me to be prepared.”

“oh, don’t remind me,” nicole sighs. “i’m helping as a big sister this year. i don’t know if i’m ready to go through it again.”

shayla laughs. “cant be that bad! at least, that’s what i’m telling myself.”

“do you know who’s gonna escort you?” nicole asks. shayla glances at you quickly.

“well, it’s so early, i don’t know…”

nicole scoffs. “shayla, you are the most prepared and efficient person i know. i know you have someone in mind.”

“well,” shayla gives you an embarrassed smile. “i was kinda thinking i would try to get to know steven more. see if he would escort me.”

both of the girls look at you, waiting for your reaction. usually, you hated when girls had a crush on your brother. at school, girls who did would try to become friends with you to get closer to him, and it was tiring. but this was different. shayla was one of the most kind, incredible people you have ever met. you knew she had no ill intentions. also, steven could use a good influence like her in his life. “that sounds like a great idea, shayla.” you say sincerely. she breathes an obvious sigh of relief.

“i’m so glad you said that,” she says. “i would never wanna pursue something if it meant it would hurt our friendship. no man is worth that.”

you nod. “you’re so right.”

nicole’s eyes drift over your shoulder. “i’m, uh…i’ll be right back.”

without either of you replying, she walks away. you watch her as she walks directly to conrad, who had apparently been by himself in that moment. you and shayla look at each other and laugh.

“she is so down bad for him,” shayla says. you nod.

“painful to watch sometimes.”

shayla laughs again. “well, i’ll see you later too, (y/n). i’m gonna go talk to steven.” you grin at her.

“have fun!”

as soon as she walks away and you’re left on your own, your phone buzzes. you pull it out to see a text from peter. finally. it had only been all day since you’d heard from him.

peter: been busy today babe sorry for not replying

peter: at party rn it’s super fun!

peter: look at this video lol there was a tall ass diving board i jumped in fully clothed

peter: (attachment, one video)

you smile at his messages and click on the video he sent you. it took a moment to load, but once it did, you almost dropped your phone in shock. it wasn’t a video of him jumping off the diving board. it was a video of him making out with a random girl. you watch in pure shock, unable to move. as the video goes on, you realize it wasn’t a random girl. it was cassie, your best friend. you watch the video closely, hoping for any sign that this was some sort of a dare or big joke, but there was nothing. they were just heavily making out, his hands up her shirt and her hands in his hair, and someone just happened to be filming on peter’s phone.

peter: oh shit

you stare at your phone for a full minute after the video ended, unsure what to do next. then, looking at your other hand, you knew. you chugged the rest of your beer, found a cooler, and chugged another one. when you started your third one, you felt a hand on your shoulder. “hey.”

you turn around to see jeremiah standing there, smiling at you. “you having fun?” he asks. you nod, chugging almost half of the new beer in one sip.

“so much fun,” you finish off the third beer and go to grab another one, but jeremiah grabs your hand.

“wait, be careful,” he says. “how many have you had?”

“that was like, my first,” you lie, opening a new beer. “don’t worry, jere. i’ll be fine. just having some fun.”

he stares at you, a concerned look on his face. “(y/n), you never drink like this. what’s going on?”

“nothing!” you say cheerfully. “just trying to start the summer out right,” you look around and see a group of people dancing nearby. you take a sip of your beer and motion towards them. “i’m going to dance.”

“(y/n),” jeremiah calls, but you were already stumbling away from him, towards the people dancing. shayla and steven were in that group, shayla doing more dancing than steven was, but both of them looking like they were having fun nonetheless. shayla grins at you as you approach, grabbing your free hand and spinning you around. you giggle and dance with her for a while, finishing off your beer as you do. you were definitely drunk at this point, which wasn’t hard for you, since you were a lightweight. at things like this, you usually stopped at one beer or seltzer, so you definitely were not used to four. it was good, though. it made you forget about peter and cassie betraying you.

it made you forget until now.

if you were honest, it didn’t surprise you as much as you thought it would. cassie had been the one to introduce you to peter, and she always had a weird connection to him. you almost felt stupid for not seeing this coming sooner. most of all though, you were just angry. angry at peter for leading you on and cheating on you. angry at cassie for supposedly being your best friend and then doing this the second you’re not in town. angry at both of them for ruining the one good thing you had in a long time. as you walk towards the beer cooler again, jeremiah catches up to you and grabs your arm, holding you back. “okay, no. i’m cutting you off, (y/n).”

“let go of me,” you grumble quietly, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he was much stronger than you. he grabbed your other arm so you were forced to face him.

“(y/n), what’s going on with you?”

“nothing!” you yell at him, catching the attention of a few people around you, but you were too far gone to care. “nothings going on with me! i’m just trying to have a good time, okay?”

jeremiah smiles awkwardly at a few people around you, trying to divert the attention away from the two of you. “i know you, (y/n). why are you acting like this? you’re never like this.”

“so what?” you say. “so what if i am?”

a few girls call jeremiah’s name and attempt to wave him over to them, but he ignores them. “come on, we should get you home.”

“i don’t wanna go home,” you say hardly, looking him in the eyes. he looks genuinely concerned for you. somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “i wanna stay here.”

“(y/n)…” he’s cut off by the sound of police sirens and people yelling and scrambling around to pick up the beer cans and leave quickly. jeremiah swears under his breath and grabs your hand, pulling you away from the beach. “guess you have no choice.”

the two of you run towards his car, following everyone else who was running away from the scene. you look around frantically, but can’t find belly, conrad, or steven. “jere, wait, where’s everyone else?”

jeremiah shakes his head. “i’ll find them in a second. gotta get you to the car.”

“but belly, jere,” you say. “she’s probably scared shitless.”

he shakes his head again. “she found someone to hang out with. i’m sure she’s with him. i’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“but—“

“i’ll find her, (y/n).” he cuts you off. “just please get in the car first.” at this point, he sounds like he’s begging you. you look him in his eyes but have to look away quickly. the desperation in his expression was too painful to look at. you nod.

“okay.”

he squeezes your hand then opens the passenger door for you, allowing you to climb in. “i’ll be right back, okay? stay here.”

and with that, he’s running back towards the beach like he was superman. at that moment, it felt like he was, honestly. running back towards the cops in order to save everyone else. you weren’t sure that you knew many people who would do that. while you’re still alone in the car, you pull out your phone to finally reply to peter, who had texted you again, five times.

peter: (y/n) omg i’m so sorry

peter: wrong video but i swear it’s not what it looks like

peter: we’re both so drunk we were dared to do it and that’s why it was recorded

peter: please (y/n) please we didn’t mean it

peter: please believe me

you: fuck you

and with that, you block his number, and set your phone down. you wonder if you would have that much confidence if you were sober. you wonder if you would believe him if you were sober. it was a good thing that you weren’t, you figured. it was for the best. two months didn’t have to mean much, right? just a silly little mistake you made to date him that ended badly, but it didn’t matter, right? yeah your best friend betrayed you, but no worries, right?

suddenly, you realize that you are crying. sobbing, actually. uncontrollable sobs escape from your lips and you sit in the dark car, alone, sobbing your heart out. how was this fair? what did you do to deserve to lose your best friend and boyfriend all at once? the fact that if he hadn’t accidentally sent you that video then you never would have known made it worse. it made you wonder if this had been going on for a while, and he had just slipped up now. you could not stop crying.

even when the car doors opened and jeremiah slid into the seat next to you, you could not stop crying. he looks at you, shocked. “(y/n)?” he asks softly, unsure. the rest of the car is quiet, but you could feel everyone else’s presence in the backseat. you shake your head.

“i’m… i’m fine,” you say unconvincingly. “i’ll be, i’ll be okay.” you nod at jeremiah, who was staring at you with the same desperation on his face from before. he seems unconvinced, but starts the car, glancing at you again before he drives away. in the dark, he reaches over and grabs your hand, holding it tightly in his. you continue to cry silently for the rest of the ride home, squeezing his hand with both of yours.

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