#i drag my words FAK

[screampied]

Vegas my love, you speak Papiamentu? What other languages do you speak 😁

YES MI TINNNNN 💗🙊 my first language is creole. other languages i’m fully fluent in is kiswahili ‘n french

[thebearer]

in your eyes, the man that i could be |carmen berzatto x reader| part two

prompt: after carmen finds out you're staying at pete and sugar's house, he goes to try and talk to you. he's faced with his furious sister and harsh truths instead.

or part two of the devastation fic lol that is based off this ask from the other day <3

contains: angst! angst! this one is very much so more carmen focused bc let's be real... he's the problem in this one lol. still hurt with no comfort but more this one than last one?? mentions to past trauma, family trauma. sugar clears carmen in this one. slight mean carmen still, slight angry carmen still. language. dad!carmen x mom!reader. no resolution but the make up is in the next and final part! still heavy so read at your own discretion! word count- 4.8k+

Fak twisted his hands, nervously watching Carmen pace back and forth furiously. One hand running through his hair, tangled and matted from the continued motion; the other lifting and pulling the cigarette to and from his lips. Fak wasn’t sure how Carmen wasn’t sick yet. He’d never seen him smoke so much, seen anyone smoke so much. 

“Neil, I’m not fuckin’ playin’ anymore, ok? You’re startin’ to really, really fuckin’ piss me off.” Carmen’s jaw ground tight, voice starting to growl with that gravelly warning shake that had Fak flinching. “You better tell me where you put my fuckin’ car keys, alright? I-I’m not sitting here, ok? I’m not gonna sit around wi-with my fuckin’ thumb up my ass like a jagoff while my wife and kid are a-at fuckin’ Sugar and Pete’s!” 

“Carmy,” Fak tried to keep his voice calm and firm, like Sugar and Richie had coached him to, hyping him up before he entered the house. “I can’t give you your keys right now, becaus-” 

“-Oh, fuck you! Fuck you! Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?” Carmen roared, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. 

Fak didn’t think he’d ever say it, but he missed the sad Carmen from before. When he’d been sent to check on Carmen and Richie, to find out where the hell they were before Sydney had a meltdown in the kitchen, only to find a nearly hyperventilating Carmen and an unsure and frantic Richie trying to calm him. Fak had known Carmen a long time, his whole life, really, and never once had he seen him so… so sad. 

That sadness was long gone now. In its wake, an anger, worse than before, than he’d ever seen or could have imagined. Fak had just tried to comfort Carmen, offer up some encouragement that you and Teddy and Anchovy were all ok, taken care of- at Pete and Sugar’s. He didn’t realize how that would flip the switch, how it would infuriate Carmen. 

“I-I’m Fak.” Fak blinked, nervously. “You know me. I’m your friend, Carm, and I-I’m just trying to help you-” 

“-You’re trying to help me? You’re trying to fuckin’ help me by keepin’ me away from my wife?” Carmen’s voice boomed, shaking the walls of the house. 

Even in his loud rage, the house seemed too quiet, too still. There was no baby TV show on, no hum of the diffusers, or Anchovy’s small purrs and chirps. Carmen missed him, missed him jumping on the counters just to piss him off. He missed you defending him, missed how Anchovy would startle and run anytime Teddy would gurgle or whine. 

God, he missed Teddy. He spent the first night in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair, staring blankly ahead, wishing he had the small screaming bundle to rock to sleep. 

Carmen couldn’t bring himself to go into the bedroom. Not again. Not after he found your ring laying there. He’d scared Richie so badly with his cries that Richie had enforced the ‘Mikey Prevention Plan’, his twisted humor of a way at keeping Carmen from being alone, from hurting himself in his misery. 

“Carm, I-I can’t.” Fak stuttered, looking at the door, begging Richie or anyone, really, to walk through the door. “You know I can’t.” 

“This is fucked up, Neil. You know that? You know how fucked up this is? Keepin’ me from-from Teddy? From my kid?” Carmen took a long drag of the cigarette, smoke blowing out of his nose with his panicked breathing. His hands still shook, everything was still shaky and rattling with uneasiness inside him. 

“Carm, I- Don’t say that.” Fak shook his head, he could feel himself caving. Carmen could too. 

“You’re keepin’ me from her, Fak. You know that? You know you-you’re keepin’ me from my daughter? My baby? Don’t you-you know how fucked up that is?” Carmen shook his head, lips pursing in disgust. “You’re lettin’ Richie boss you around like he always does, an-and you know, you know deep down that this is wrong. Keepin’ me from them is wrong.” 

Fak hesitated, a nervous sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. “Richie said-” 

“-Richie can get fucked. Ric-Richie doesn’t know shit! He doesn’t know shit, you know he doesn’t know shit, a-and you’re lettin’ him tell you what to do? Richie?” Carmen scoffed, throwing his hands out. “The fuck does Richie know, huh? H-He’s divorced, an-an-and barely sees his kid-” 

“-Hey!-” Fak’s eyes widened in shock. “Carmen, you don’t-” 

“-Is that what you want? You want me to end up alone?” Carmen’s eyes are wild, crazed, but he goes still. “Y-You want me to end up like-like Richie? Li-Li-Like that?” 

Fak swallows, both standing in the thick, tension filled silence. “Carmen, I-I can’t.” Fak shook his head slowly. “I don’t… I think you need to, I don’t know, I think you need to calm down before you go see them.” 

“Calm down, you’re tellin’ me to calm down.” Carmen snarled, bitterly scoffing at Fak. “Fuck you. Alright? Fuck you. I will never forgive you for this shit. You hear me? You-You doin’ this to me, keepin’ me from my family. I’ll never fuckin’ forgive you.” 

Fak flinched, Carmen’s words cutting brutally through him with a bitter sting. Carmen stormed off, the front door slamming with a force that sent vibrations through the house. Fak was surprised it didn’t split the wood in two. Walking towards the front window, he saw Carmen storming off, furiously lighting another cigarette, running a hand through his hair, again. Fak assumed he was out of Spirits, that he’d smoked through another pack, walking to the corner store to get more. After thirty minutes, he called Richie, frantic that he’d let Carmen loose. 

“What part of Mikey Prevention Plan don’t you fuckin’ understand?” Richie sneered over the phone, trying to keep his voice low so the new hires didn’t hear. As far as they were concerned, Carmen was on a vacation, only the OGs knew the truth. 

“I-I didn’t mean to! I swear!” Fak’s voice lilted high, a shrill of nerves that had Richie’s eyes pinching in annoyance. “I thought he was going to the corner store to get more cigarettes, an-and then he didn’t come back for a while-” 

“-What’s a while?” Richie muttered, catching Tina’s eye through the glass. She set her rag down quickly, walking towards him. 

“I dunno… Fifteen, thirty minutes?” Fak mumbled. “Maybe closer to an hour now. B-But then I went to look for him, and he wasn’t there, so I asked the guy working and he said he hadn’t seen him, and-and now I’m driving around trying to find him. I-I’m shouting his name out the window and everything!” 

“He’s not a dog, Neil, he won’t-” Richie huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know where he’s at.” 

“You do?” Fak perked up. 

“Yeah, I mean, no, but I-I’m pretty sure I know where he’s at since you fuckin’ told him where they were stayin’.” Richie rolled his eyes bitterly. “Just- Come over here and get me, alright? Let me call Pete- God, you and this fuckin’ kid, got me callin’ Pete. You’re killin’ me Neil Jeff.” 

Richie hung up the phone with a huff, looking up at Tina. “What’s goin’ on? Jeff alright? What’s he doin’?” She pressed. 

“Yeah, Fak-Fak fuckin’ lost him.” Richie rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “But, I think I know where he’s at. Have a pretty good idea, anyways.” 

Tina eyed Richie carefully. “Richie, you know I love that kid, you know I do. But if he’s fuckin’ with Mama,” Tina shook her head, lips pursing in fury. It was no secret how taken she was to you, even before the affectionate nickname that came with the pregnancy. 

“He’s not,” Richie shook his head. “He’s stupid, hot headed, a fuckin’ baby- all that. But… C’mon, T, you and I both know he loves her. He wouldn’t do anything to them. Do somethin’ to himself before that.” 

Tina paused but nodded, face softening. “So, you know where he’s at then? You don’t… You don’t think he’s gonna…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it, looking at the picture of Mikey with Richie, Tina, Ebra, and Marcus only a few months before he passed. Carmen had placed it at the front, a reminder of the legacy that was there before him, of The Beef and his brother. 

“No, I hope not.” Richie muttered, looking at his phone’s screen with dread, Pete’s contact on the screen gleaming back at him nearly mockingly. “I think I know where he is.” He sighed, pressing the button. 

Pete could feel his phone buzzing in his pants, ignoring it as he held the front door in a white knuckled grip. He hadn’t expected to see Carmen there, on his Ring camera, knocking on the door softly, softer than he expected given his manic looking state. 

“H-Hey, Carm,” Pete closed the door as casually as he could, only leaving a sliver open. “What, uh, what’s up, man?” 

“Hey, Pete,” Carmen could barely meet his gaze, suddenly overly aware of how disheveled he must have looked. 

“Uh, what-what brings you by?” Pete stuttered, heart picking up when he heard the soft thump behind him, Anchovy lurking behind his legs curiously. He gripped the door, shuffling his legs together, trying to close it on his frame so Anchovy wouldn’t slip by. 

“C’mon,” Carmen sighed, a tired look in his eye, too exhausted to even be pleading. “You know why I’m here, alright. I-I know they’re here.” 

“W-Who is? Sugar? Yeah, she-she’s off today.” Pete stiffened at the claim, swallowing nervously, trying to play it cool. Anchovy meowed loudly behind him, cringing when he was  given away by the cat. 

“Pete, don’t-” Carmen pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing in slowly, trying to calm the tears that threatened to fall. He could hear Anchovy, hear the sounds of the house- the home. Soft child shows, the hum of the dryer, all the things that made the house feel alive. Carmen would give anything to have his home sound like that again, the silence was beginning to drive him crazy. 

“Where is she?” Carmen looks up, his gaze much harder than before, a frantic look beginning to take over his sadness. 

“I, uh, I-I don’t-” Pete stutters, fingers tapping on the wood of the door anxiously. 

“-Pete, I really don’t want you to fuck with me right now, alright?” Carmen takes a deep breath, trying to swallow back his emotions that were already beginning to climb in his throat again. “I need to- I-I need to see her, Pete.” Carmen couldn’t bring himself to say your name, sure even the first syllable would have him in tears, breaking down on the front porch. 

Another meow, louder than before, came before Pete could answer. The soft scratching of Anchovy’s paws on the door, a demanding meow that Carmen knew all too well. He’d learned to drown it out, or try to. It became nearly a soundtrack to your sex life when you’d first gotten the cat, locking him out of the room so you two could fuck, only for him to yowl and scratch and demand to be let in. Carmen could remember how you’d giggle, pouting at him exaggeratedly to let him in. His heart fell with an ache that was warm yet still made him feel sick. 

Pete looked down at the cat, then back at Carmen, a hesitant grimace on his face. “Carm… You-You know I would,” He started. Carmen’s heart soared with hope, eyes wide, a near adrenaline rush of excitement shooting through his system. “But…You know I can’t.” 

Carmen’s heart crashed, shattered with the hope he’d finally begun to find, to feel again. “What the fuc- Pete, that’s… Pete, c’mon. C’mon. Yo-You gotta let me in. Let me in.” Anger surged through Carmen’s chest. He closed his eyes tight and tried to swallow it down. All he’d been is angry. For weeks now, it had been a never ending cycle of anger and sickness and distraught, all amplified to new heights the second you left. 

Carmen could feel himself spiraling, ears starting to ring again, rushing and roaring flashbacks flooding into his mind. Your face when you left, Teddy’s cries, the critic’s pursed lips, Sydney’s disappointed face when he forgot something again, Tina’s eyes cutting. Carmen turned, shaking his hand lightly, trying to do a breathing exercise he saw on YouTube, years ago when he’d moved to New York. 

His breaths were deep, shaky, but deep enough that it cleared his head, dulled the ringing. His mind wandered back, Richie’s voice ringing in his head. “You wanna get her back? Quit actin’ like a goddam baby. Quit actin’ like this isn’t your own fuckin’ fault. Like you didn’t do this shit to yourself, Cousin. Take some fuckin’ accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin’ shit together, alright? And maybe-maybe you’ll get your family back.” Richie’s voice rang clear through his mind from a few nights ago, when Carmen was especially mean and awful. 

“Hey, uh, you alright?” Pete hesitated, leaning towards Carmen, his grip on the door loosening. 

Carmen took a deep breath, running a hand over his face before he turned back towards Pete, eyes shining with tears that threatened to fall. “Pete, please? Please?” Carmen begged, voice soft, cracking at the end. “Please, jus-just let me see her? L-Let me talk to her? Just- Let me tell her tha-that I’m sorry. Please… I need to tell her I-I’m sorry. Don’t-” 

“-Carmen?” Sugar gaped, her voice coming from behind Pete. She pulled the door open, shocked gaze dropping into furious, jaw setting in a near snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?” She hissed. 

“Why do you think I’m here, Natalie? Huh?” Carmen snapped in anger, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here.” Natalie snapped back, pulling the door open and stepping out on the porch. She stood in front of her younger brother, arms crossed in a standoff. 

“Pete, go inside.” Sugar sneered, her gaze not moving from Carmen’s. She felt like they were children again, having a staring contest to see who got the last piece of gum from Donna’s purse, only this time, it was for worse. 

“Nat, I-” 

“-I got it.” Natalie said firmly. Pete didn’t argue with her, simply nodding, shutting the door softly behind them. Her eyes held Carmen’s gaze, both of them intense, furious at the other for other reasons. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself-” 

“-I am-” 

“-Mortified.” Sugar sneered, giving him a disgusted shake of her head. Carmen shifted, biting his own tongue to keep it from lashing out at her. “Do you know what I came home to the other night? You want me to tell you?-” 

“-No, I know-” 

“-No, I’m going to tell you.” Natalie snapped. “I came home after a very long shift because our head chef decided to, oh, I don’t know- disappear and go on a psychotic rampage apparently.” Natalie scoffed sarcastically. 

“And I walk through the door, ready for bed. Maybe a glass of wine, maybe a bath, maybe to finally catch up on my shows with my husband; and you know what I found instead?” Sugar took a step towards Carmen, intimidating him with her harsh glare. “I find my husband taking care of your baby because your wife is sobbing-” 

“-Don’t-” 

“-No, no. I mean, sobbing. A total broken mess on my kitchen table, because she said you,” Sugar jabbed a finger at Carmen. “Decided to come home and scream at her. Not only scream, but say some of the most volatile, disgusting things I’ve ever fucking heard in my life to your wife, the mother of your very much so still a newborn baby.” 

Carmen felt the familiar wave of nausea wash over him, swallowing back spit that pooled in his mouth with a cry that threatened to fall from his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, to look at her gaze anymore. It felt too judgemental, left him feeling too vulnerable and sick of himself under it. 

“So let me ask first; What the fuck is the matter with you?” Natalie sneered. 

“I don’t know.” Carmen’s voice was tight, jaw tighter, fighting a tremble that was threatening to break. “I-I don’t… I don’t fuckin’ know. I-I didn’t- I didn’t mean it-” A single tear fell, slipping out of the corner of his eyes, sliding down his cheek- the final crack in his demeanor. 

Carmen tried to fight it, deep breaths that burned his lungs and nose to control the tears, keep him from breaking here on his sister’s porch, but they wouldn’t stop. Carmen wasn’t sure how he had any tears left, after crying for days on end, how he hadn’t shriveled up his tear ducts. Yet here he was, broken sobs slipping out again. 

Sugar didn’t move. Arms still crossed over her chest, lips still fixed in a hard line, watching Carmen with intensity as he broke down, tears flowing in front of her. She didn’t comfort him, not that he expected her to. She didn’t try to give him words of encouragement, advice on how to right the wrongs like the others did. Instead, she kept a furious gaze on him, unmoved by the tears. 

“Please,” Carmen sniffed hard, running the back of his hand over his nose. “Please, Sugar, please. Ju-Just let me see Teddy. Let me se-ee her. Don’t-Don’t do this to me. Don’t ke-ep my kid away from me-” 

“-Me?” Sugar scoffed, pushing her hand into her chest. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. Don’t you even start that shit, Carm. I’m not keeping your kid away from you, let’s make that clear.” 

Carmen’s breath hitched when she stepped towards him, toe to toe with him, teeth bared in a grit of anger. “I didn’t take your kid away. You know who did? Hm? You.” Natalie snapped, Carmen flinched at the cruelty of her words. “You did this, Carmen. You did every last bit of this. This is on you. No one else but you.” 

Carmen held in a cry that threatened to break out, face crumbling with tears. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to soothe the burn and hide his distraught. “And you know something else? I know you don’t remember dad very well, but I do, ok? And lately, you’ve been acting just like him.” Sugar’s tone clipped, leaving a burning sting in Carmen’s chest at her words. 

“Yelling just because shit didn’t go your way? Do you know part of the reason mom’s so fucked up? Why everyone takes her side all the time and babies her? Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Lee? It’s because dad used to berate her, scream at her so badly- say some of the worst shit in the world because he was stressed out, that those guys would feel bad for her.” Sugar ranted. “And I promise you- promise you if I told Uncle Jimmy right now what you said, how I found your wife, he’d agree with me. Maybe even worse.” 

Carmen shifted, his heart squeezing in fear now. Jimmy loved you, always had. He held a special soft spot in his heart for you. Worse was probably right, and truthfully, Carmen would accept it- he deserved it. It wouldn’t be as bad as how he felt right now. 

Natalie held Carmen’s gaze, letting her words sink in. She lifted his hand when he started to talk. “I don’t-I really don’t want to hear it, ok?” Natalie shook her head. “And before you start trying to come up with some excuse-” 

“-I-I’m not-” 

“- I want you to know something. To hear it and really listen to it.” Natalie paused, waiting until his eyes met hers to continue. “I know you’ve been through a lot- We’ve been through a lot. But that doesn’t mean you get to just treat people like shit. That you can act like this and it’s ok.” 

“I know that.” Carmen’s jaw was tight, strangled words croaking out. 

“Then act like it.” Natalie snapped. “It’s not easy, none of this is easy, Carm. I mean… Do you know that every day- every single day, I wake up and something happens that’s shitty or rough, and I think about how easy it would be just to grab a bottle of wine or two. Drink myself unconscious like mom does. Just how easy that would be, how nice it would be just to drown myself out instead of face the issues.” 

“There’s days when MJ or Maggie or-or Pete just drive me fuckin’ nuts, and I want to pull my hair out, or scream, or Pete will do something that just pushes me right over the edge and I just want to rage.” Natalie continued, arms waving dramatically. “I want to throw in the towel, take the easy way out, rage, drink myself silly, scream at all of them until I feel better, but you know what? You know what I don’t do? I don’t do that.” 

Natalie crossed her arms, taking a breath to steady herself. “I don’t do that to them because I know how that feels.” Her voice cracked, just barely, enough to show the emotion that was hiding underneath. “I know how that felt. I know how that made me feel.” 

Carmen could feel his eyes brimming with tears again, too emotional to be embarrassed. Donna’s many red faced, slurred screaming tyrades came back to his mind. How he’d hide, try and stay quiet and invisible to avoid them. Even as he got older. 

“I know how that fucked me up. How it fucked them up. How it fucked you up, an-and Mikey up. I mean- how it…it fucked our whole life up!” Sugar laughed humorlessly, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. “I just… When I think about that, and about how it just ruined all of us. That’s the last thing, the very last thing, I’d ever want to do to my kids, to Pete, t-to anyone, really.” 

Carmen nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to speak. His throat burned, scratchy and sore from screaming and crying. His chest was tight, constricting his lungs, stealing his breath. He was on the verge of an anxiety attack, maybe something worse, yet, he felt eerily calm in the moment. Still even under the shame and hurt her words brought. He sat on the porch, sure his knees would give out soon, head spinning and dizzy with this damning realization. 

 “You need to make up your mind. Make a decision, right here, right now.” Sugar continued behind him. Though he couldn’t see her, he knew her face was stoic to hide the hurt, hide the emotions. A classic Berzatto deflection trait. “You need to decide what you’re going to do to be better for your family. If you’re going to continue to be a selfish, piece of shit, or if you’re going to change; be better.” 

Carmen’s shoulders shuddered with his next breath, deep but not intentional; like he didn’t even know he did it. Too dazed and deep in thought, staring blankly ahead. “I can tell you,” Sugar stepped towards the door. “It’s not comfortable. It’s not easy. It is so hard some days. You have to fight for it every day, fight to break shit that was drilled into you, fight to recognize that some things you do, you don’t even mean to. It takes a lot of work, but… I’d rather fight every single day to be better, to be kinder and softer and more understanding for my family, than to not have them at all.” 

Carmen couldn’t stop thinking of you. How you were so naturally nurturing and sweet. You’d always been like that. You were loving and gentle freely. You’d always been so patient with him. It almost made him feel insecure, inferior, when he thought of it before, but now, he just wanted to return the favor. 

“You decide what you want to do, and then maybe- maybe you’ll get to see them again.” Sugar turned the door knob, pushing it open. “But today? Not a chance. Go get yourself together before you try and do this again.” Carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, harder than he thought it would. Still, he didn’t move from his spot on the porch, head in his hands, deep in thought about his future, his past, everything. 

“There he is!” Fak’s voice was muffled through the car window, slowly pulling to a stop in Sugar and Pete’s driveway. 

Carmen looked up slowly, taking a slow, grounding exhale in, just as Richie and Fak climbed out of the car. “Cousin, thank fuckin’- You better be glad he’s here.” Richie glared at Fak. 

“I am!” Fak chirped defensively. 

Carmen stood slowly, turning one last time to look at the front door. He couldn’t see through the small privacy glass on the door, but he swore he could hear you- hear your voice. Soft and hushed, a little cautious mixing with Sugar’s reassuring one. It took everything in him not to turn and bust the door down, run inside and throw himself at your feet, begging for forgiveness. 

He knew that time would come. 

Instead, he walked to the car, sliding in the backseat, ignoring the confused looks Richie and Fak gave each other. “So, uh, did you-” 

“-Don’t ask that.” Richie cut off Fak with a bark of annoyance. “What’s the matter with you?” 

“Nothing! I just- I thought we all wanted to know-” 

“-Hey, Cousin,” Carmen muttered, staring blankly at the house. Richie hummed, turning to Carmen carefully. “What’s, uh… You-You said you had someone for me to talk to?” 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded slowly. “The therapist?” 

Carmen paused, swallowing slowly. “You…You think she’d see me now?” 

“Right now?” Richie lifted a brow. Carmen nodded slowly, still looking past him, eyes glued on the house. He swore he could see a figure move- your figure, peeking through the blinds before ducking back into the shadows. “Yeah, I’m sure she will. I can… I can call her. See what I can do.” 

“Thanks.” Carmen twisted his wedding band gently, the car jolting gently as Fak started to back out. 

Fak turned around, looking from the back window to Carmen with a hesitant grimace. “You ok?” He asked, his voice dropped to a low hush with Richie on the phone beside him. 

“No,” Carmen admitted, shoulders slumping in defeat. “No, I-I’m not, but… I wanna be.” Carmen looked at Fak, eyes glassy with emotion. “I gotta get my shit together. Gotta do better f-for my family.” 

Fak nodded slowly, pulling out onto the road, slowly shifting the gears back into place. The car began to roll, Carmen watching Sugar and Pete’s house disappear in the rearview. His heart tore, ripped right down the middle and split at the seams knowing he was leaving you, Teddy- his family behind. It took everything, every ounce of strength not to turn around, not to run back. It hurt, but he realized, this is what Sugar was talking about. 

So, Carmen went to the other side of town, to the small building where Richie’s therapist was. His counselor he’d started seeing a while back, when he was on his purpose journey. 

It was weird, weirder than Al-Anon. Carmen felt entirely too vulnerable sitting in that chair, having her stare at him and only him, nodding as he told his ‘story’- it felt weird to call it that. He didn’t want it to be his story, his defining qualities. No, Carmen wanted a new story, a better one with you and Teddy and his family. He’d told Dr. Mullins that. 

“I think that’s a great start, Carmen.” She nodded, giving him a soft smile. “So, tell me how you’d do that.” 

Carmen scoffed lightly, looking down at his hands. “I, uh, I don’t really know.” He admitted. “Kinda thought that’s what you were for.” 

“You’re right. I’m here to help you reach that goal, maintain it.” She nodded. “But in order to do that, I need to know a little more.” 

“Like what?” Carmen muttered. “I don’t really remember my dad and all the bad shi-stuff he’d do.” 

“You said you didn’t want that to define you, so let’s not talk about that.” She shook her head softly. “Let’s focus on what you want. What kind of life you’d want to live with your family.” 

Carmen’s knee bounced, taking a shaky breath. “I… I don’t want to lose control.” He admitted. “I don’t want t-to scream, and say shit I don’t mean, and-and to take it out on people who don’t deserve it.” He looked up at her. “I don’t want to do that again.” 

“Good.” Dr. Mullins nodded slowly. “Let’s start there.” 

[moonstruckme]

Omg yay I love that slightly dirty man!! I was wondering if you’d be willing to do something along the lines of a flower shop au situation, where Carmy is obv still a chef but reader works/owns a place nearby and they end up seeing each other a lot and so on and so forth but also I will devour literally anything about that man so wherever your heart takes you I’m 100% on board <3

He is perfectly dirty! Thanks for requesting babe <3

Carmy Berzatto x fem!reader ♡ 831 words

It’s peak hours, and your shop is completely empty. You’re leaning against the counter by the register, mashing your fingers into your temples and praying to whoever will listen for the noise next door to stop. 

It’s some sort of fire alarm, blaring from the shitshow construction zone you’re lucky enough to neighbor. It’s been going since nine this morning. It’s after noon now. No customers will stay long enough to buy anything, not even your regulars who come in looking for a specific book. At this point, you need to either get out of here or get a lobotomy. You head for the side door. 

It’s a bad idea. The noise is worse outside, but you’re committed now. You walk paces up and down the alley, blowing puffs of air that cloud in the cold and rubbing your arms because you left your coat inside. You’ve already walked the alley twice when you see him, bare-armed as you but smoking a cigarette like this temperature is just right. 

“Hey,” you say, too irritated to be embarrassed, “what the hell is going on in there?”

Carmy shrugs, taking the cig from the corner of his mouth. “The fire alarm won’t stop going off.” Smoke rises into the air as he talks. 

“I know. Are you going to do anything about it?” 

“We’ve got people on it.” 

That’ll mean the Faks, you suppose. You wish this was something you could rage about, but Neil’s a nice guy. He came over to help you board up your window when it broke during a hailstorm last year, and when you brought him a coffee he acted like the beans came from the Garden of Eden. 

You take a breath, trying to chill out. “So, are you guys all losing your shit in there?” 

Carmy shrugs again. He never really looks at you, you’ve noticed, just sort of near you as if that’s as close as his eyes can get. “Some more than others,” he says. “I don’t mind it.” 

“You don’t mind?” you laugh, incredulous. “You must be insane.” 

He turns his head to the side, something unidentifiable passing over his expression as he takes a drag. “I know.” 

You get the feeling you’ve taken a misstep. You need to say something nice, remind him you’re on the same team. You kick the overflowing dumpster next to you lamely. “Can you believe this shit? They’ve skipped us for two weeks straight now.” 

Carmy nods, relaxing somewhat. “It’s bullshit.”

“If they miss us again, I’m gonna have to start bringing our trash to other dumpsters or something. I don’t even know.” 

“They won’t miss us again. I’ve got someone making a call.” 

You grin. “What are you, part of the mob or something?” 

Carmy looks almost like he might be thinking about smiling. You have the urge to take a picture. “My family is Italian,” he says. 

“Oh, I know. Richie’s definitely brought it up.” 

Carmy blows smoke out, shaking his head in a way you suspect might be fond. “Richie’s not even Italian.” 

“Seriously?” A laugh stutters out of you. The wailing siren has faded into the background. You feel lighter than you have all day. “He’s the most Italian guy I’ve ever met.” 

“Yeah, he definitely thinks he is.” 

You look at Carmy for a moment. There’s always this tautness about him, like he’s perpetually ready to run or punch someone. Right now he’s as close to casual as he ever gets, hunched against the alley wall, but however he’s acting you can see the raised hairs of goosebumps on his biceps. His tattooed, very large biceps. You look away before you can get swept away by that line of thinking. 

“Well, even though the noise doesn’t bother you, do you wanna get away from it for a sec?” you ask casually. “It’s not so loud in here. You can barely hear it in the back room.” 

“Seriously?” Carmy’s looking at you as though this may be some sort of trap. He’s looking at you, and without explanation the world seems to sharpen into startling clarity. You’re suddenly conscious of your heartbeat. “Uh, yeah.” He glances behind him, seemingly wary of one of his coworkers coming out to stop him. “That’d be cool.” 

“Okay.” You open the door, nodding to his cigarette. “You can’t bring that in here, though. I don’t need it smelling up my books.” 

“Right, yeah.” He snuffs it half-smoked on the alley wall. There’s a slightly awkward moment where it seems like he’s trying to grab the door for you even though you’re already holding it open, but after a second he ducks inside, something that might be embarrassment stiffening his shoulders. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” You let the door swing shut behind you, leading him towards one of the plush couches in the back room. “We’ve got to do what we can to keep each other sane around here, right? A crazy neighbor would be bad for business.”

[saltnsugarbear]

your hands are all over my scent

summary: The Bear hosts a friends and family Halloween party after hours! Being Sydney's childhood friend, she invites you to meet everyone!

title from: "Halloween" by Noah Kahan

word count: 0.6k

content warnings: reader is the same age as Syd which makes them younger than Richie, playboy bunny costume, swearing, Sydney mentions stabbing Richie again <3

divider by @strangergraphics

"Oh no. Nope, no, no way. Don't even think about it." Sydney says firmly from where she stands beside Richie.

"What the fuck are y'talkin' about?" Richie ashes his cigarette, looking over at her. He has to pretend like he wasn't watching the way the fluffy cottontail bounced when you walked to the drink table.

"Oh-o, you know what I'm talking about.." Syd's eyes get wide with emphasis as she looks back at you inside.

They both watch you as order some Halloween special Fak and Sweeps made up at the bar. When you're done, you turn around and make a beeline for the door. You don't bother grabbing your coat as you walk out of the building, spotting Sydney and Richie near the entrance of the alley. There's an added spring to your step as you go over to the duo, spotting Richie's cigarette in between his fingers.

"Can I have a hit?" Your eyes are bright as you look at Richie.

The look in your eyes makes his brain pause. You're looking up at him expectantly, the bunny ears on top of your head are slightly crooked.

After a moment Richie's brain catches up and he clears his throat. He can feel Sydney's eyes on him as he nods.

"Yeah, sure.." Richie holds out his hand for you to take the cigarette. You're not quite sure what possesses you in this moment but instead of taking the cigarette from Riche's hand, you grab his wrist gently and bring the butt of the cigarette to your lips.

Richie can see Sydney bury her face in her hands in his periphery, but his eyes are transfixed on where your lips wrap around the cigarette. You take a long drag, before you remove your lips and take his hand away.

There's a ring of your lip gloss around the filter that Richie can't look away from. You move your head away from Syd and Richie to release the smoke from your lungs. You miss the way Richie glances over at Sydney, who's already glaring at him.

"Thanks!" You chirp, giving Richie a bright smile.

"Yeah, 's no problem.." Richie clears his throat again, rubbing the tip of his nose with his thumb. You turn to Sydney, placing your hand on her elbow.

"I ordered us that vampire blood cocktail that Sweeps made up! I'll hold on to yours for you!" You smile at her sweetly. With that, you're walking back inside, fake rabbit ears bouncing with each step.

Silence settles over Richie and Sydney as the door shuts behind you. He can feel her gaze burning into his profile as he stares at the spot where you were just standing.

"I didn't do anything!" Richie insists, holding his hands up in a display of innocence.

"You let them hit your cigarette!" Sydney exclaims.

"What was I supposed to say? No? Like a jagoff?" Richie sounds offended at the mere idea.

"I'm going to stab you again.." Sydney grumbles, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets.

"You're the one who brought them to this thing..." Richie mutters, bringing his cigarette to his lips. He inhales along the filter as Sydney grumbles beside him, kicking pebbles along the pavement. Richie grumbles back at her mockingly, a habit he's picked up from Eva recently.

"Just don't..." Sydney sighs. She puts her hands in front of her in a 'stop' motion. "Don't like... Pursue them if you're not actually interested. If you're just looking for like.. A quick fuck, they're not the person to choose.."

"Too old for a one night stand.." Richie scoffs, "Don't have to worry, bout it. Can look without touching, can't I?"

"Oh gross.." Sydney exclaims, shaking her head. "Don't do any of that near me."

With that last piece, Sydney turns to go inside, shaking her head like she's trying to forget the words Richie said.

Richie rolls his eyes as Sydney goes back inside, looking around the empty street before turning back to The Bear.

"Fuckin' playboy bunny..." Richie mutters as he flicks his cigarette to the ground. He watches as you hand Sydney her glass, eyes shut as you smile at her.

"Fuckin' bunny.."

[doodle-pops]

When You Fake An Orgasm | The Ainur pt 2

A/N: As promised, I made a second series of headcanons for the other Ainur…after so long.

Warnings: female reader, smut, marathon sex, orgasm denial, rough sex, faking orgasms, fingering, pussy slapping (just once in Oromë’s part), pet names (kitten, pearl, little one, sweetness), squirting

➽ More: Part 1

༻¨*:·Tulkas

He will laugh, filled with amusement and determination at your folly action. The recognition of you faking for a purpose that makes no sense would spur him on to increase the passion so there wouldn’t be a need for another attempt.

Pausing the moment he watched you moan and vibrated, a playful grin would spread across his face. His hands would slide off your ass to meet your hips. “Is that the best you can do?” he would tease, making you shrink in realisation that your actions were foolish to begin with. Yet, his tone was filled with a challenge, as were his eyes and grin the longer he gazed at you above him. “You think I don’t know what you feel like around me, my fierce little one? How tightly you squeeze me when I make you cum?”

Easily with a burst of energy, Tulkas would flip you over, lifting you effortlessly with one hand and pinning you under the mass bulk of his muscles. Immediately, his hands would find your hips, sliding over your pelvis to grip the flesh of your thighs and toss them over his shoulders as he pressed his upper body weight on you. At first, he would catch you off guard with his slow and shallow thrusts, making you assume that he wouldn’t increase tempo, and at the moment when he feels you relax, he snaps his hips with renewed vigour.

Ultimately, you were crying out in pleasure, squealing and begging him to slow down as the new pace he set was a new record, but Tulkas laughed boisterously against your lips and drove his cock deeper. “You will come for me,” he declared with authority and encouragement, leaving no room for questioning. “I know what you’re body craves, and lying to its true nature will make you succumb to me quicker.”

As his words fell on your ears, the sound of his cock dragging in and out of your wet heat echoed alongside the slapping of his hips against your ass. Your nails scrambled to dig into his biceps, leading him to laugh more as he increased his pace, grinning at the reduced state you were becoming. “Feel me and know that you will never commit to such foolish acts while I am buried deep in you.”

༻¨*:·Oromë

I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into with him because you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Such an act is no joking matter, and it will not be dealt with lightly. Expect a punishment that would set the record straight, leaving you begging for release.

Slowing his movements, Oromë’s eyes narrowed, and jaw clenched. You felt his hands sliding down the bed to rest on your waist, prompting your smile to fade. The silence that followed was too loud and mysterious, you didn’t know what to expect next from his unpredictability. Then, without speaking, Oromë flipped you onto your knees and pressed your face into the pile of furs, a large hand fixated on your nape to keep you secure. With the absence of his cock in your heat, you naturally clenched your muscles in search of it, causing his eye to twitch at the audacity. “Oromë, please…don’t keep me waiting. I need you.”

“You need me,” he growled, lips lingering dangerously beside your ear now that he curled his body over yours. He applied just a small portion of his true strength to keep you immobilised while he trailed his other hand down the curve of your ass, fingers brushing over your rear entrance before meeting his destination. Without care, two of his fingers plunged into your cunt and immediately went to work, rubbing and playing with your sweet spot to bring you to the edge, but never allowing you to find your release, leaving you begging and crying. “Look at you. Wanting what I would give you in abundance, for free. Why don’t you fake it now? Go on, fake it for me.”

Unable to formulate coherent phrases of pleas, he pulled his fingers out to mercilessly rub your clit, applying the right amount of pressure as he pressed the little nub. His fingers tweaked and slapped it while his eyes never left your facial features, reading every micro-expression. “You will not find release in lies, kitten,” he purred with a tender and commanding tone, slapping your clit to keep you on the edge. “You will cum for me in truth, or not at all.”

“P-…Please let me…cum,” you hiccupped making him grin and spurring him on to ensure that you didn’t.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, kitten. Beg for mercy better.”

༻¨*:·Ossë

Honestly, I don’t know what it is with you and your choice of partner to fake orgasms with. He’s tempestuous and wild, born of the sea, and you’re going to fake something that he has perfected due to reading the ebb and flow of your body and enjoying the feeling of your wet release? Good luck because he’ll make you cum until stars aren’t the only thing you’re seeing.

“Are you close, my pearl?” he mocked, voice dripping with humour as he observed the way you wiggled and squirmed under his motion of his cock driving deeply into your pussy. He could sense the tightening of your walls slowly clamping around his cock for the umpteenth time tonight. With sound of the waves crashing upon the platforms, it set the mood of sensuality, but your little stunt altered his plan. Now, he was pounding away into your pussy, slapping your hand away from his stomach and pinning them above your head.

Ossë leaned his body flush against yours to force your nipples to create an unbearable friction, pushing you over the edge to cum on his cock. You both had lost track of the numbers for the night, but since you were able to keep your eyes open, it meant that you had more juice in you for another round. “Look at you. You want me to stop, don’t you sweetness?” he toyed as his hips continued through the aftermath of your orgasm, fucking you into sensitivity and another one. The echoes of his laughter turned in hisses as you bit into his shoulder, turning him on further. “Just like that. Feel me deep in you, like a wave rocking your boat. Spill yourself all over me until you can’t.”

Sobbing into his skin, you started panted as the fire recycled to signal another wave of release. You weren’t sure when your eyes rolled into your head, if you saw white stars twinkling or nothing. The pure energy he released as he pushed his cock to punish your insides left you breathless and confused. “O–…ssë…can’t anymore,” you begged.

Humming into your hair, he rolled his hips to rub the head of his cock against your sweet spot to tip you over the edge and squirt all over him just the way he loved. “You just did, and you can give me again until you’ve learnt your lesson, pearl,” he murmured sweetly and dragged a hand down to grip your jaw. “You’re gonna give me every last drop.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @addaigio @elficially-done-with-life

If you wish to br tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

[gallaghersgal]

I don’t know if someone has sent something like this in but I had a thought the other night about getting in an argument with Richie (and previous not having gotten into many with him, being shy and staying in your lane as a waitress) in the restaurant and he says something not intending for it to be suggestive, but it is. You reacting positively to it but leaving embarrassed. He unintentionally follows you out and asks you about it. Jksodhe I’m sorry for rambling 😖😖

this ask has been wasting away since... idk probably july. but it's itching my brain all of a sudden so. mature for suggestive language. pre-canon setting!

the bullshit that richard jerimovich put you through. god, it would be enough for anyone to just walk out. but you needed this job, so you put up with his nonsense. at least he's easy on the eyes.

today he's in the dining area with fak, slamming the side of the ball machine every time the younger man makes a mistake. there's a rush happening too, or at least there was. you michael, and ebra handled it all. much to your disdain mikey just laughs it off when you bring richie's absence to his attention, telling you, "relax kid, we can handle this shit. let the old man fuck around."

you groan as you wipe your hands, fingers feeling tender from all the piping hot sandwiches you'd just served up. you march your way into the dining area intending to give that old fuck a piece of your mind. he brushes you off similarly to his friend, you swear sometimes those two are just iterations of the same person.

"fucks sake princess, i don't see a line out the door," he jabs, gesturing obnoxiously towards the now empty area.

"oh, fuck you richie," you spit back at him, reaching out to shove him lightly.

"yeah? fuck me?" he taunts, crowding into your space. "i bet you'd like to, huh princess."

he doesn't even say it with any low, lustful tone. it's a jab, an insult even. but the words send heat creeping up your cheeks and you stammer out, "f-fuckin' jagoff," before turning quickly on your heel.

crisp chicago winter air helps soothe your racing mind, the shock against your bare arms bringing you back to reality. that was embarrassing. wanting to have sex with a coworker was bad enough already, but a coworker nearly ten years your senior? that's the beginning of a workplace nightmare.

richie steps into the alley and you glare at him. his hands raise in defeat, one holding a lighter as an unlit cigarette hands from his lips. he lights the thing and takes a drag, then pulls it from his lips to observe, "you look fuckin' cold."

"oh, thank you captain fucking obvious," you bite back, but your voice trails off as he cages you in against the wall.

[cwritesforfun]

The Bear: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: Anxiety Attacks & Rude Customers

You work at the Bear as the hostess and Sydney is your best friend. You've always had anxiety and things have been more anxious than normal. **TW: Anxiety & Anxiety Attack (YES, the plot has changed.) Y/N = Your Name

Masterlist

Y/N's POV

It's Friday, which means only two more shifts this week left. You arrive 10 minutes early and start putting stuff in your locker. Sydney arrives and does the same next to you while asking, "Feeling any better today?" You answer, "No, I just can't help how overwhelmed everything is making me. I can't shake this feeling." She replies, "You could take a break. You could've called in sick. The other hosts could've covered your shift." You shrug and reply, "I'll be fine." You notice Carmy standing near Sydney, he makes brief eye contact with you before looking away, and he says, "Hey, sorry to bother you both. Sydney, I need to see you in my office after you're ready." Sydney answers, "Yes chef." Carmy then walks off.

You help clean the dining room and run last-minute checks with Richie. When done, service starts and it's going well. It helps you take your mind off your crazy brain. You're currently in graduate school for management with a focus on hospitality and working at the Bear to make a little money to pay tuition. Work and graduate school together are not for the weak. You feel dragged out and worn out and what's worse, you feel so alone and like you have no friends, except for Sydney. It's getting to be a lot.

You hear your name and see a male customer visibly drunk standing in front of you. You ask, "Yes, how may I help you?" He slams his hand on the podium in front of you and says, "This is the worst service I've ever received! First, I ask for medium rare steak and I get it medium. The chef won't make it right and I've already returned it twice. And now, you didn't hear a word I said before and you're the worst host!" HARSH WTF!?!?! Your hand starts to shake a little, you move it out of the way, and you reply, "Sir, I'm ... I'm so sorry you were not pleased with the service you received here today. I can speak to my manager about what kind of compensation I can offer you. If that's alright with you, I will go find them and bring them to your table." The man says, "Fine. Be quick. I have another place to be soon." You nod, ask Fak to cover the host stand, and walk off to the back to find Richie.

You find Richie talking with Carmy and you say, "Richie, I need you in the dining room. A customer is saying that he returned a dish twice and it wasn't what he ordered. He also complained about the service and asked to speak to my manager." Carmy asks, "Does this man look intoxicated and have a stupid mustache that takes up half of his face?" You answer, "Yes chef." Carmy asks, "What exactly did he tell you?" You tell him the conversation word for word all while your hands keep shaking and Richie says, "I'm going to go punch him in the face." Carmy replies, "Not if I do it first. I hate his type of customer and him." You ask, "So, what should I tell him?" Richie sighs and says, "Y/N, return to the host stand and I'll deal with it. Carmy, the only question I have is was it cooked medium rare?" Carmy answers, "Yes, and I don't mess up cousin." Richie nods and says, "Ok." You return to the host stand and you watch Richie go over to the customer. You let Faz get back to his position and you stand behind the podium. You look down at your hand and it's shaking a little bit. You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. Your knee starts bouncing and you start taking more deep breaths. You have a break soon and if you can hold it together until then, you can try to ride out your anxiety attack on your break instead of at the podium.

You notice Richie escorting the drunk customer out with his friends and the man turns to you, slams his hands on the podium, and says, "I hope this is as far as you get in life! You're the worst hostess I've ever seen!" Richie says, "Sir, if you don't leave right now, I will call the police." The man turns to Richie and says, "I'm leaving, but you will hear from my lawyers." The man then leaves the building. You let out the breath you'd been holding in and sigh. The worst hostess?! I'm not bad. I want to get beyond this in life. What ... what did he mean that his lawyers would be in contact with us? Are you going to need a lawyer? Damn is that going to require a loan? Where are you going to find the money?

You hear your name and you see Richie standing in front of you. You exclaim, "Yeah, uh Richie, what's wrong?" He answers, "I was asking how you were and I can tell you're not doing well. I think you should take your twenty-minute break right now. Faz can cover the front. But, please just go out back for the break. I don't know if that customer is still out front or not." You nod and walk to the back. You push open the door to the kitchen and you walk straight to your locker. You open it and dig through your bag to only find an empty pill bottle. You forgot to bring more anxiety pills. You slam your head on the locker and say, "SHIT!" You leave your head on the locker and start crying. It's all too much.

You feel someone tap your arm and see Carmy standing there. He says, "Uh you can rest in my office for your break if you want to. I don't think you should go outside for your own safety. Richie says the customer is still lingering outside." You nod and say, "Thanks. I'll do that." You put the bottle back in your bag, lock your locker, and go to Carmy's office. You set a timer on your phone for 20 minutes, sit on the ground against the wall, curl your knees to your chest, put your head down, and your arms around your head. You let yourself shake and cry. You try calling your mom, but she must be busy. It'll be over soon.

You hear your timer turn off, you wipe your eyes and take one more deep breath. You leave the office, shove your phone in your bag, and return to the host stand.

Once work is done, you grab your work and walk off quickly without stopping to talk to anyone.

Carmy's POV

After work, I watch Y/N go back to the back and leave immediately. She doesn't even stop to talk to Sydney. Something is wrong. I wish I could help her. I care about her, probably more than I should.

I walk up to Sydney and say, "Hey, uh can I talk to you for a second?" She nods and follows me to my office. I close the door and say, "What I say cannot be repeated to anyone." Sydney replies "Yes chef." I reply, "For the next few minutes, say Carmy." She replies, "Ok Carmy. You're worrying me now." I say, "This is awkward, but... I care for Y/N and I'm not as close to her as I would like. But, I want to be close to her. I ... I'm worried about her. Tonight was tough and I could tell that even before service started, she was stressed about something. I want to check up on her, but I don't know where she lives. I want to bring her something to cheer her up and check on her." She replies, "Wow that was not what I expected for you to say... oh but it was nice to hear that you care about her. I ... um... I don't think I should be giving you relationship advice. But, I do know where she lives and do know that she likes those new caramel tarts that Marcus has been making. If you took her one and just told her that you wanted to drop off a sweet treat, she would probably let you in. She might open up to you, but I know she's going through a lot right now and I don't know her level of trust with you. Just be careful with her please." I nod and reply, "I promise." She gives me Y/N's address and I get Marcus to make a caramel tart for one to go. I slip my jacket on and leave work.

I arrive at Y/N's apartment and park in a visitor spot. I press call next to Y/N's spot in my contacts and wait.

(( Start of conversation)) Y - You & C - Carmy Y - Hello? Chef? C - Hey Y/N, I know it's after work and everything, but you left and I didn't want Marcus' caramel tarts to go to waste. Sydney gave me your address and I wanted to drop one off to you. I just parked in a visitor spot at your place. Is that okay? Can I drop it off? Y - Oh... um thanks for bringing it. I'll be right down. Just stay there. C - Okay. Y - Okay. See you in a minute. (( End of conversation))

Y/N's POV

Carmy is bringing you a caramel tart?! Yeah today is a weird one. Good news is you talked to your mom and finally were able to calm down for the first time in days. A caramel tart also sounds really good. But why is Carmy here?! You're still confused. You need to talk to Sydney about why she gave out your address. He's your boss, but still, what did he say to get her address out of Sydney?

You leave the apartment building and see Carmy leaning against his car looking at his feet. God, he's hot right now. Shit, don't think like that. THAT IS YOUR BOSS! Omg you just realized that he came straight after he got off work and you're in your pajamas with a hoodie over it. Welp at least you're dressed appropriately.

You walk up to him and exclaim, "Thanks for the dessert dropoff, chef." Carmy replies, "No problem and call me Carmy outside of work." You reply, "Ok Carmy." He hands over the tart and he says, "This area is nice. I've never really walked around this area before." You ask, "Really? It's really nice in the afternoon when the sun hits at the park across the street. It's so nice. I recommend going one day." He answers, "Yeah maybe I will... Y/N, how are you doing after that customer tonight? I know he said some hurtful things to everyone, but especially to you." You point to your right and ask, "Could we sit on that bench to talk about this?" He nods and follows you over there. You open the tart and take a bite. This is so good. Wow. You exclaim, "That customer tonight was rude. You know what was said. He was drunk and not in his right mind. I was very anxious all this week and that just was the last straw for me. It broke me. I didn't have any more of my anxiety medication in my work bag and my mom didn't answer my call. I usually talk to her to calm down or I take meds and sit by myself. I had neither. When I got back here, my mom called me and I took my meds. I am feeling a lot better mentally actually." You take another bite of the tart and Carmy says, "I'm glad you're feeling better. I get anxious too. I still can't control my anxiety. If you ever feel like that at work again, please tell me. You can sit in my office anytime you feel that way and someone can cover your spot while you take a break. I mean it. My office door is always open for you. And if you need someone to talk to, whether it is me or Sydney, I'll make sure one of us can be there for you." You reply, "Thank you Carmy. That is very thoughtful of you." He yawns and says, "I better head to my place. I still have to get up early tomorrow. Thank you for opening up to me and sharing something so vulnerable." You reply, "Thanks for listening and for the tart." He smiles and says, "Anytime, Y/N." You ask, "May I give you a hug? I feel like this conversation and gesture call for one?" He answers, "Yes you may." You both hug before he leaves in his car. Part Two and Part Three... coming soon

Masterlist

[those70scomics]

That '70s Show and The Love Boat

I half-watched an episode of The Love Boat yesterday and imagined what the T7S characters (Jackie, Hyde, Eric, Donna, Fez, Kelso, Red, Kitty, and Bob) would do in an episode. What silly, romantic adventures might they have?

This episode takes place when all the teenage characters are legal adults (Kelso would be twenty or twenty-one).

I think Kelso would try to have as much sex as possible with as many "hot" women (including ones in their forties because it's canon that he doesn't discriminate as long as he finds a woman attractive -- e.g., Coach Ferguson's wife, Joy). But he'd suffer from sea sickness, which derails his plans.

Bob and Fez would end up romancing the same woman, who manages to keep that a secret from both of them until two-thirds or the way through the ep.

Red would be grumpier than usual. Kitty thinks, at first, the reason is that Red forgot how to have fun. But later she realizes that being on a boat is giving him PTSD flashbacks to the navy, which begun subtly but get progressively worse. Kitty helps him through them.

Eric and Donna experience romance with each other, but Eric catches Donna having conversation with a sophisticated gentleman (very early twenties) and grows suspicious. He doesn't want to repeat past behavior with her, but he's really bad at hiding his insecurity. Especially because she meets with this fellow again ... and one more time. Instead of asking Donna about it, he confronts her and the stranger.

Turns out, the stranger works for a big newspaper, and Donna's been pitching him an article. The stranger isn't interested in Donna except professionally. This situation turns out awkward and embarrassing for Eric and frustrating and angering for Donna. But Eric recognizes that part of him still believes he's not good enough for Donna, and Donna not only reassures him that he is but also tells him he needs to stop thinking about their relationship that way.

Their reconciliation ends in a bedular way.

Jackie is super-excited to be on The Love Boat. She feels like a celebrity and decides to role-play that she's a famous, glamorous actress. Hyde is not happy being on the cruise to begin with, and now he has to contend with his girlfriend playing pretend.

Hyde tries to sabotage Jackie's fun. This pisses Jackie off, especially when he doesn't stop after she asked him to (his counter is that he asked her to quit being who she isn't so they both can get some fun out of this hell trip).

Jackie play-flirts with other men as part of her fantasy (wanting to feel adored and be fawned over; also, she's being passive-aggressive toward Hyde who could have played along as her rock-star boyfriend). Hyde mopes and spends time with Isaac, the bartender.

Isaac gives Hyde the advice to play along. Jackie's clearly trying to get from strangers what she wants from Hyde. Hyde says he won't let her manipulate him. Isaac says he doesn't think that's what Jackie's doing.

Hyde: You don't know Jackie.

Isaac: Maybe you don't know her as well as you think, either. That is a woman who feels like she's missing something, and I bet what she's missing is you.

Hyde considers Isaac's words. This is, after all, Hyde and Jackie's first real vacation together, and he's been a drag about it since before they boarded the ship.

Hyde sidles up to Jackie while she's talking up a group of people. He says, "How about my girl, huh? Thought I'd pick one out of the crowd at one of my gigs, but she picked me out of hers."

Woman 1: Wait, are you that rock musician ... oh, what's his name? [Turns to her group] You know -- that one!

Hyde: That's me.

The women in the group scream in excitement. They say how they love his music (having no clue what his music actually is).

Hyde says he'd be nothing without Jackie.

Jackie (happy Hyde's decided to play and how he's playing): That's right, lover. You wouldn't ... but I wouldn't be such a great actress without your undying love and encouragement.

Jackie and Hyde fake-laugh together. The group, women and men (and nonbinary folks who don't yet have the terminology to describe their gender), ask Hyde questions about his career. He doesn't half-ass his answers but weaves an intricate tale.

Jackie is so turned on by the effort Hyde puts into playing this part, that he changed his mind for her, that he's pushing through his discomfort to make her happy, that she cuts this "salon-at-sea" discussion short and leads him back to their room.

Jackie verbally expresses her gratitude. Hyde apologizes for not giving her what she needed before the cruise. He says he realizes he's been so busy at Grooves that she's probably felt neglected by him lately. He doesn't want to make her feel like she did growing up.

Jackie, self-reflecting, says, "She has, but she didn't know that until he said it." She apologizes for putting on this celebrity act, even though it was fun, and apologizes especially for being flirtatious with other men. "I wasn't thinking about what we've been through, what you went through as a kid. I just wanted -- "

Hyde: Some attention.

Jackie and Hyde: From you. / From me.

Hyde: You've got all of it now. What do you wanna do with it?

Jackie kisses Hyde deeply.

Hyde: Okay, I was wrong. [Smirking] Now you've got all of it.

He and Jackie make out and end up on the bed.

Fade to black.

[ashlingiswriting]

do i know you? chapter three

[ 3k words ] [ prev chapters: one, two ] [ masterlist ] "it’s an unfamiliar sensation, not being able to completely read him. it skitters over you like static electricity." richie jerimovich x reader, past mikey berzatto x reader, slow burn

you’re on call every day from eight at night to eight in the morning, so by the time richie rolls up, you’ve usually just eaten a late breakfast and he’s heading home after work. there’s a consistency to his late night appearances, a rhythm that becomes comforting.

there’s no pretending and no politeness—what would be the point? they should invent a word for this. maybe childhood-friend-in-law would do, except you had a snowball’s chance in hell of ever marrying michael and you always knew it. that’s the feeling, though. familiarity comes built in. even when he gets truly infuriating, you don’t leave feeling worse than you did. more pissed off, sure, but never worse. it’s a distinction worth noticing. 

some nights are easy. you talk about questionable obscure music in which you really do not overlap or middling mainstream music in which you do, running out of concerts and context. sometimes it’s pure bullshit, gossip or make believe, starting up elaborate jokes too lame to admit to in front of anyone else, then discarding them when they’re outworn. sometimes it’s old stories, sometimes it’s pure speculation.

hand to god, some nights are good.

and then there’s this night.

.

.

.

you’re barely out the front door when richie calls out, hey. where the hell were you?

you got called in real early yesterday, so you missed seeing him last night. but that’s no cause for him to yell, the entitled little jerk. you shoot him a baleful glare. then, as you take in the sight of him, you settle a little.

he’s not truly angry. you’ve spent enough time with him now, you’d know.

with a shrug, you shove your hands deep in your pockets and come stand beside him. 

last night i had to smoke all by myself like a fuckin loser, he says. 

that's your cue to say, you are a fuckin loser, but you don't take it.

he offers you a drag on his own cigarette, and you shake your head. you want it bad, but you can’t. you all but smoked yourself to death between crises yesterday, and you’re trying to convince yourself now that giving it up will somehow fix things. 

but nothing will be fixed, and it’s not your responsibility anyhow. this is not your city. you’ve felt that acutely of late, as each of your last links to it is broken one by one. coke or the cops, what difference does it make? the caruso kid didn’t listen to you, didn’t listen to anyone, and once his infection got bad enough, his wife called an ambulance. it’ll be the cops for him if he survives, and his father after that, the next domino to fall. you yourself are somewhere in that long line, just waiting for your turn. 

work sucks, huh, richie says. 

you look over at him to find that he’s already looking back at you, a little sleepy but not good enough an actor to hide the keenness in his observing eyes. it’s dangerous that he noticed you were gone and it’s dangerous that he’s noticing you now, but it feels really, really fucking good. 

yeah, you say. i thank god every day that i am a woman of leisure.

he laughs. well, i’m just grateful that you allow yourself to associate out with me, you know. me in my rags and you in your pearls and finery. he gestures at your sweatpants and gigantic parka.

once my tiara’s back from the cleaner’s, it’s over for you, you say.

sure, and i’ll be crying my eyes out in a pint of cherry chocolate chip. 

with that, he launches into a long, winding tale about the shenanigans he pulled at the beef today, installment nine hundred and seventeen of his neverending battle with a guy named fak. you’re not following, but you’re not trying to follow particularly hard, either. you’re too tired, and you’ve got other shit on your mind.

that’s the closest richie has gotten to mentioning your job in weeks. 

used to be that he’d poke around with dogged persistence, as though he thought he could needle you into submission. he asked after your boss’s health, your credit score, your childhood high school. he complained he had to take a shit or that it was too cold out to stand around. all that. anything to invade, get inside, get a little more information. 

michael was like that, too. the difference between the two is that michael won. conquered you, most if not all of your secrets, and fell asleep in your bed long before even a month had passed. but richie’s been at it for a few months now and he seems to have given up. he doesn’t know your job, your last name, or your phone number. he could pick you out of a lineup but he could never track you down. and he’s decided to let that go.

it’s just as well. you’ve got leftover dim sum in the minifridge right now, and if he pushed hard enough, you’re pretty sure you’d take him up to share it. siu mai re-steamed and slices of lo bak goh re-fried in hot oil in a pan, savory and delicious, nothing better. you can’t cook, but you’d still feed him well if given half the chance. you’d arrange the table with takeout napkins and your only two sets of matching cutlery, you’d—

the real richie rudely interrupts your thoughts. 

you’re not even listening to me, are you, he says. 

no, i’m not, you admit without an ounce of compunction.

just like everyone else, hey? fan-tastic. there’s a real bite to the way he breaks the word in half.

you look at him, startled and stung. don’t be such a fucking baby.

man, fuck you, he says. real anger, rocketing out from his chest. 

fuck you! you stare at him, legitimately astonished. maybe it’s your fault for not paying attention, but you really have no idea where this is coming from. you’ve been good. maybe your mind strayed for a while tonight, but what about every other night? you’ve always listened, or at least pretended to listen, to the travails of his divorce, his money problems, his insane workplace, his dysfunctional quasi-adopted family. and there’s a hell of a lot of it. you’ve been really fucking good!

apparently, not only has he not noticed this, but he thinks he’s entitled to even more.

you say, what do you expect here when you’re going on for eons like fucking always. do you think this is fun for me?

well, someone has to talk since you won’t say shit about shit with that paranoid secret agent—

oh, fuck. something about the way richie cuts himself off. you dread whatever he’s got to say next.

he says, what’s that supposed to mean, do you think this is fun for me?

jesus christ. you fumble in your coat, only to remember that you threw away your last pack. i don’t speak in fucking riddles, richie, this is not that type of situation.

then what type of, like. his face wrinkles in horror and disgust. am i a charity project? 

this is like having a migraine, but worse. i never said… truly, what the hell is going on? how did you even get here? 

dredging up the last of your energy, the emergency fund, you turn it into bravado, your default response to an unexpectedly angry man. you give it your all cause that’s the only way to do it, turning and facing him head on, putting your shoulders back and standing square over your own two feet. 

what is this, richie? you wanna fight? you really wanna fight?

yeah, i think i do actually, says richie, alarmingly ready. i think i really fuckin do. 

fine, you spit. 

you tilt your chin up so you can look him square in the eye and you give him the worst you got, spiteful already, and then you start trying to anticipate his next move.

there’s a lot of things he could say, as it turns out, a lot of things that only he could say, because he was there for everything. he witnessed the aftermath and attended the funeral. he could have you skinned like a caught rabbit given half the chance, and you just handed it to him on a silver platter. 

besides, he has a right. he loved michael even more than you did.

the realization dawns on you far too late, and then the dread sets in. can he see it in your face? when he opens his mouth, you’re setting your jaw so you don’t flinch. 

forget it, he says flatly. he turns away a little, steps back to lean against the building, and in the shadow of the building all you can see is the shape of him. if you concentrate, you can make out his profile against the gray concrete. 

.

.

.

at first, you can’t quite believe it. it’s mercy, after all, and that’s rarely reliable. but after his last cigarette, richie folds his arms tight across his chest and tilts his head back, eyes looking up towards stars that neither of you can see through the city lights.

eventually, you do start to think the mercy is real. you test it.

can i have one? you say.

richie doesn’t even hesitate. he reaches into the left pocket of his tracksuit pants, produces a pack, and hands it over. it turns out to be brand-new box of menthols. 

you look at it for a moment. your throat’s doing that thing again. he really did notice that you weren’t here last night, huh.

i don’t do charity, you say, after a second.

it’s fine, forget it, he says. 

i don’t, though. you don’t know what to say, but you know you can’t leave things there, so you keep pushing, and the words just come out. richie, i’m—i’m really a piece of shit. 

he looks at you directly again, but this time it’s a question. he doesn’t try to negate it with a brainless autoresponse like ‘no you’re not.’ he just listens, plain and simple. for a second, you’re at a loss. 

sudden and frightening as a car crash at the next intersection, the impulse flashes through you: tell him the truth, the whole truth. test him for real, watch that mercy melt away, inevitable as ice on hot pavement. teach him to hate you like he should. it’s like strong hands digging their fingers into your shoulders, the thought, and you’re reeling.

i… you swallow, smash it down, yank the car back onto the road. i hate ice cream and babies and long walks on the beach, i hate old ladies and libraries. you look over at him. i kick dogs every chance i get. 

there it is, at the corners of his mouth.

heartened, you go on, nearly tripping over your words. like, small dogs, richie. puppies. right in the head, i kick them. 

now you’re both smiling, and the relief is so fucking crazy. you’ve fought with him so many times before, but you’ve never gotten scared by it before. this is a first, and you have no idea what to do. all you can do is repeat, i don’t do charity.

okay, he says. okay.

you lean against the wall, and you’re absurdly heartened when he does the same right next to you. something about the symmetry, something about the weight off. you finally light up one of the menthols, and you have the night with richie back again. the breeze brushes by, chilly but not unbearable. it’s perfect.

what happened today? you say.

i thought you’d like it, he says. it was funny. 

go on, then. 

you wonder if richie might try to make you say please, but he doesn’t. he walks you through the whole day of catastrophes, from the broken toilet to the loss of electricity, from the loss of electricity to the fucked-up fridge, from the fucked-up fridge to the outdoor grill—

that’s really cool, you say.

he grins. right? 

whose idea?

from his crooked, exasperated smile, you know it wasn’t his. 

syd’s, he admits.

you raise an eyebrow. so i take it the culinary institute is good for something.

he scoffs. no way they taught her that. that—he points at you—was pure chicago.

oh okay, so we’re giving the credit to the city.

yeah, we are, cause it’s like—

the city, not the woman.

it was very chicago of her! that’s a compliment. don’t make it a feminism thing. his voice matches yours, a near-laugh ribboning through it like fudge in ice cream.

alright, okay. you’re smiling like a fool and you couldn’t care less. so then what?

so turns out fak’s connect isn’t much of a connect, surprise surprise, and it’s gonna cost us fifty-five hundred just to get the fridge back up and running. so he and carmy come to me, all hat in hand, and they’re like—shit. i didn’t tell you about the dealing, did i? you got me all turned around.

didn’t tell me bout the what now?

fak snitched on me earlier, told carmy i was dealing in the alley back behind the beef. i’m not moving much weight, just like. he gestures vaguely. covid, he adds, like that’s an explanation. please don’t have a fit about this, i’ve had all i can take from carmy already.

you shake your head once, thinking hard, processing. the more you think on it, the more it unsettles you. 

i knew he was dealing, obviously, but i didn’t know about you, you say. after a second, you add, richard edgar jerimovich?

jesus, he mutters.

is that right?

and here i thought carmy was going full mom. edgar, jesus fucking christ. richie’s torn between aghast and amused. where’d you get that from?

that’s your middle name?

yeah, but—

you hold up a hand, not rude, just asking him silently to let you finish, and he does. 

richie, you broke your wrist when you were twelve trying to play tackle football with the big boys on asphalt. at some point in your thirties, you started getting a rash every time you ate shellfish, but you still do it anyways, ‘cause fuck it’. and to this day you hate nightmare on elm street cause he convinced you to watch it with him when you were both way too young. 

none of this richie told you himself. it all came straight from michael. 

you say, how do i know all that, but i didn’t know you were dealing? 

richie says nothing, so you look over and find him watching you already. it’s an unfamiliar sensation, not being able to completely read him. it skitters over you like static electricity. 

you got a pretty good memory there, huh, he says.

it’s coke, right?

it’s just coke, yeah. was coke. it’s over now. richie shrugs wearily, turns away, and stubs out his spent cigarette on the concrete wall. mikey and his fucking secrets. i don’t know what to tell you. 

you can say that again. 

richie says nothing for a beat, then: mikey and his fucking secrets, i don’t—

okay, okay. 

he breaks into a small smile as you watch him, and then you keep on looking at him even as the smile subsides. a car goes by, and you look down at the pavement as the headlights sweet over both your faces, only looking back up at him once the car is gone.

the thing is, you really did think you knew him. what a crazy thing to think, when this is a mistake you’ve already made before with michael. you thought you knew him too. 

there could be so much of richie you don’t know, because michael didn’t know—or because michael didn’t tell. and yet richie isn’t a stranger. at any moment you could close your eyes and picture his face, imagine his voice. he’s in you that much, at least.

so here he is, through your own eyes. you’re determined to fix him in your mind, not richie from the stories, but richie as he really is. his hair is dark and close-cut, his beard too. his eyebrows are scant, and there’s a ridge on his forehead as if to make up for it. his nose is straight and straightforward. there are bags under his eyes, because of course there are, but his eyes themselves are as blue as summer, so blue they’re barely believable. that’s him, that’s his face.

then there’s the eternal black leather jacket, oversized and complete with unnecessary shoulder straps for all the bags he’ll never carry. he stinks of kitchen in general and arby’s curly fries in specific. he’s allowing you to stare at him, an indulgence that you can’t question without being a dick. he makes you want to not be a dick. all this is here, all this is real. 

he rubs his nose with the side of his wrist. 

you must be tired, you say quietly.

when he smiles like that, it’s almost like you can look down past a few decades and see the teenager you never got to meet. i’m never tired, he says.

he’s always tired, you realize. of course he would be. you only ever see him after his long-ass shifts. go to bed, richie.

that was too gentle for sure, because he says a little curiously, getting some real weird vibes off you right now.

you take one last drag, then push off the side of the building, gathering yourself to go. you want normal, don’t come to me. 

heard, he says with a chuckle. g’night.

goodnight.

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[ chapter four ] [ masterlist ]

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@garbinge, @narcolini, @drabbles-mc, @beingalive1 — if anyone else wants a tag, let me know.

[drabbles-mc]

Latest & Greatest

Neil Fak & F!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: family friend

Warnings: 18+, language, weed, pining if you squint

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I finished yet another rewatch yesterday and I just love Neil Fak so much. So here we are.

The Bear Taglist: @withmyteeth @garbinge @narcolini @hausofmamadas @ashlingnarcos @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was impossible to hear much of anything with all of the chaos going on. There were at least ten different conversations going on, most of them being conducted by screaming instead of talking. On top of that there was the clattering of pots and pans, items being thrown and dropped, not to mention Donna’s slew of timers. The ringing was all so staggered that no one could keep them all straight, least of all Donna. It was bedlam, but they all knew it was coming, and year after year they all kept deciding to come back.

Because of all of that, Fak hadn’t heard his phone the first time it chimed when a text message came in. When the reminder chime rang, he was too deep in a yelling match with Richie to pay it any mind. It wasn’t until all of the people who were usually occupying his time were being occupied by someone or something else, that he took the time to check his phone.

“Still doing Christmas at the Berzatto’s?”

He smiled, completely tuning out the rest of it for a moment as he replied, “Fence in 5?”

The response was almost immediate. “Clock’s ticking”

You were already outside by the time he managed to escape the house. You were leaning against the fence that divided the back of your yard from the back of the Berzatto’s, arms rested on top of it. You couldn’t remember the exact year this became the meet-up spot for the two of you during the holidays, but it had stuck ever since. It gave you a breather from your own family, and it gave Neil a break from the Berzatto’s, not that he ever really seemed like he needed one.

Every year he was in a different flannel and sweater combo. You wondered if he and Theodore flipped for it each year to see who got to choose. Not that it really mattered much since they both ended up wearing the same thing regardless. One year you were going to have to weasel your way into going on that shopping trip with them.

“Can’t stay away, huh?” you said as he walked over to the fence.

He raised his eyebrows, laughing as he came to a stop in front of you. “You are the one who—”

“I meant from Donna’s,” you cut him off, chuckling as you nodded towards the house behind him.

“Oh.” He laughed and gave something of a shrug, not giving more of a response. There wasn’t really much more to say about it. He made himself busy, fumbling with the button on the pocket of his shirt. You didn’t say anything, just pulling your sweater tighter around you as you watched him pull a joint out of the small pocket. It was enough to send both of you into a fit of laughter.

“Saw Francie earlier when I went to the store,” you said with a chuckle. “Still on the no-fly list with Nat.”

Neil shook his head as he sparked his lighter, mumbling emphatically around the joint in his mouth. “Because of the fucking thing!”

You laughed. “Doesn’t help that she never said sorry.”

“Maybe she took your spot,” he said once he lit his joint.

“My spot?”

“On the no-fly list.” He took a drag before handing it to you.

You were laughing as you placed the joint between your lips. You inhaled deep before responding. “I’m on DeeDee's not Nat's.” You shook your head. “Pretty sure I’m fuckin'…permanently barred from entry.”

There was a beat of silence between you, like the conversation was about to take a heavy, serious turn. But instead you both broke down into fits of laughter. There was so much that could be said about Donna being the one that banned you from the holiday festivities, but you didn’t know if it said more about her as a person, or about you.

“You hated Christmas here anyway,” he finally said when the laughter had died down. Even as he said the words he still had that same goading smile on his face.

“Most sane people would.”

“You’re not sane.”

You handed the joint back to him with a roll of your eyes, “Sane-adjacent.” You paused, watching him pull another hit. “My mom asked about you, by the way.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Bullshit. She did not.”

“She did!” You were laughing as he passed it back to you. “She asked how her favorite Fak was doing.”

“That does not mean—”

“And you’re my favorite Fak,” you kept going, talking over him the way you all always did with each other, “so by extension you’re also her favorite Fak.”

“What makes you so sure?”

You chuckled and shrugged. “’Cause I’m her favorite daughter.” A beat passed as you brought the joint back to your lips again. Your voice was slightly strained as you tried to talk without letting out your entire inhale at once. “So? What’s the latest and greatest?” You finally let go of the breath you’d been holding. “Catch me up on the last few months. What've I missed in the life of Neil Fak?”

He watched you for a second, staring at you as you stared down at the joint in your hand and tried to figure out how much more the two of you could even really get out of it. It was almost done, the rendezvous almost over.

“Got a new high score on Ball Breaker.”

You nodded, expression serious but the glint in your eyes giving away the humor of it all regardless. “Of course, of course.”

“The toilet at The Beef is still exploding every couple of weeks.”

“I think Richie breaks it purposely just so he can see you again.”

Another beat. Another second of you two staring at each other. Another shared fit of laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of that notion.

“How’s Ralph Squared?” you asked, trying to hold back just a little bit of your laughter over the fact that he named both his cats Ralph.

“Ralph are good! No escapes lately.” He tapped his knuckles against his head. “Knock on wood.”

Your smile was enough to nearly make your cheeks hurt. “Good.” You paused. “How are you?”

Fak shrugged and nodded. “I’m good.”

There was a look in his eyes that had you thinking maybe he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t do it. He wouldn’t. That’s not what these little meet-ups were for.  These were for both of you to get some fresh air and something similar to silence after spending hours in your respective war zones. Granted, Christmas at the Berzatto’s made your family Christmas seem like a walk in the goddamn park. But you still enjoyed the breather. Still enjoyed leaning on the opposite side of the fence from Neil and smoking together like you were still in high school.

“Please,” you joked, “spare me the details. Don’t get too carried away on me now—I only have so long out here.”

He rolled his eyes at you, face turning pink in a way that you both simultaneously and silently agreed to chalk up to the cold. He snatched what little was left of the smoke from your fingertips and finished it off, both of you chuckling quietly at the petulant child-like nature of it.

“You know how I am,” he finally said with a laugh. “You?”

You sighed, dropping your head so that your chin was resting on your forearms, forcing you to look slightly upwards at him. “Still waiting for you to get out of Chicago for a week and come visit me!”

“It’s so far.”

“It’s not that far.”

“It’s pretty far.”

You rolled your eyes but you were still smiling. It was the same debate every time you came home. You weren’t actually that upset about it—you knew who you were dealing with after all. The Fak's and the Berzatto's weren’t the types to just up and leave Chicago. Even if it was just for a week.

“I’m just saying,” you stood upright, adjusting the sleeves of your sweater, “I’ve got a pull-out couch with your name on it.”

“I don’t even get a real bed?”

“I hardly even get a real bed!” you shot back with a laugh.

“That does not make me want to come and visit you more. Just saying.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’ll work on that.”

Before either of you could try and say something else to keep the conversation going, the screaming in the Berzatto house reached a crescendo, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Neil tucked his chin down for a moment, gathering himself up before heading back in to see what the damage was this time.

“I’ll let you go take care of that,” you said with a small laugh as you crossed your arms over your chest, the cold finally starting to get to you.

“I’m sure Mikey's got it all under control,” he replied, getting both of you to laugh.

“Mm, I don’t know, sounds like it might be A Fak.”

He laughed. “It’s always A Fak that’s why they invite us.’

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile on your face. “Merry Christmas, Neil. Tell Theodore I said the same.”

“And Francie?”

You laughed. “Sure. You can tell her, too.” You took a step back towards your parents' house.

He gestured to the fence. “Same time next year?”

You had to laugh. “I’m here for the rest of the week—I better see you again before I go. Preferably not in, you know,” you gestured to the fence again, “fuckin' no-man's land.”

“Pfft,” he mocked deep confusion and offense, “Do I not come when you call? Do I not respond when you beckon? It’s what I do—I show up.”

You laughed. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m hearing, I’m hearing,” he said, smiling as he started to make his way back towards the house. “Merry Christmas!” he called back to you once you turned around and started to head back to your own house.

You laughed as you turned just long enough to shout back, “And Happy Fuckin' New Year!”

[the-french-laundry]

chapter one | HR by Neil Fak

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!oc

summary: 'The Bear' is on track with only a few weeks left before its soft opening. Time to hire new chefs for the kitchen chaos - and Neil Fak - out of all people - had a perfect contact up his sleeve: a past memory from 'Empire'.

warning(s): language | mentions of death | mentions of trauma | mentions of suicide | David Fields | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

word count: 1.7k

song:The Replacements - Can't Hardly Wait

There were a lot of sayings about chefs working in kitchens around the world - that they needed to be highly disfunctional, outcasts, chaotic, that you easily develop nicotine or alcohol addictions in a restless environment like this. How many times did Anthony Bourdain talk about how messy working as a chef is and yet, a kitchen also provides structure and order. When she lost all of that in New York, Celía Jeannin fell deep, really deep. So much so, that she didn't even bear to tell her family about her sudden loss of employment and the loss of her New York appartment, which came right after that. How could she even tell them? Her parents ran the great 'Bonaparte', a legacy of her famous grandfather Hugo Jeannin. Both Hugo and his son André, Celía's father, were michelin-starred chefs, who carved the name 'Jeannin' forever into the world of culinary, making it nearly impossible to escape any forms of comparison between the generations.

Celía felt like nothing else than a 'déception', a disappointment. Raising fast like Ikarus, when she won her first awards at a young age and had worked in a line of legendary restaurants, only to get burned by the sun that was 'Empire' and its goddamn motherfucker of a head chef named David Fields. New York died for Celía because of him. Even thinking about his name almost made her vomit and somehow even triggered the question in her, if she should even proceed being a chef in this toxic industry.

This question went straight to the bin, while she took a deep drag off her cigarette in front of that new restaurant 'The Bear' she'd applied for.

It wasn't really hard for her to come back to Chicago, after all she'd grown up here before her family settled over to New York. Somehow it still felt like coming home but at the same time she was a complete stranger in a city she'd left about 15 years ago. The only still living memory here was a childhood friend she'd never given up on: Neil Fak.

Neil Fak was a warm-hearted nerd with many shortcomings, but so many good traits that made him a really special friend, Celía knew she could count on. In fact, he was kind of her only remaining friend. Even though the two of them hadn't seen each other in real life for many years, Neil had instantly offered her a place to stay, when he heard that she'd lost her job and appartment in New York. And only a couple of days after she'd moved in and occupied his couch, he informed her about a job offer that was open at the place he used to work. It was a bit confusing what he was doing there, given the fact that he didn't seemed to get paid, but anyways - the job description was interesting. And she needed money.

That's how she got here, taking another breath of that sweet nicotine filled smoke, while she stared at an old and rusty metal sign, which leaned against the big trash containers. 'The Original Beef of Chicagoland'. It seemed like a forgotten testament to an era that now got replaced.

"Never seen you like this before, Cel!?" The sound of Neil Fak's loud voice hit Celía like a baseball bat straight out of her daydreaming and she quickly put out her cigarette.

"Like what?", she answered with a slight irritation on her face, while she tried to straighten her black and white chess fur jacket.

"Nervous. Unfocused. I dunno, you were always more like that grumpy poker face type of girl, when it came to important stuff and shit", Neil smiled and gave her best friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Nervousness? No. It was different. For the first time in her life, she was desperate for a job and wished for something that was far from the long-established restaurants she'd worked in before. Maybe one that wasn't even open yet could become a chance for her to be part of something more.

"I'm not nervous. I mean- 'tis is not the first time i applied for a fancy kitchen, y'know. Right now i'm just... well... okey, maybe i'm a little nervous", she sighed heavily as Fak already rushed forward to open the backdoor.

„Ah no worry, Cell! The team is just super great and wholesome. Everyone’s so cool and gives their very best. Richie, Syd, Carm and the others. I mean you already spoke to Sugar, right? She’s our organization talent here, really awesome stuff.“ While the words of appreciation and even admiration bubbled from Neil's mouth, Celía tried her best to follow and make sense of all the names. Sugar? Did he meant Natalie?

Just seconds after they'd entered the work-in-progress restaurant, a dirty rag hit Neil right in the face - thrown by a tall man in a shirt with the name "The Original Berf" written on it, who stood in the room. "Yo Fak, get your fucking ass here and help me goddamnit! I am trying to fix the freakin' toilet!", he shouted over, while Neil threw that rag back in his direction. "Maybe y'should stop shitting so hard, Richie!"

A sarcastic laugh went from the lips of that guy named Richie, who's eyes went straight to Celía. "Which of your sisters is that?" Celía's eyes widened in irritation and her mouth opened for a silent 'What' before Neil was faster.

"She is not my sister, what the fuck? What makes you think that?"

"Because no girl would date you," he answered with a teasing smile, clearly trying to annoy him.

"Shut it, Richie! She's a new hire!" Suddenly another person rushed into the room, apparently because they shouted so loud that everyone could hear it. The young black woman with a colorful headband and a blue apron walked straight over to Celía, offering her a handshake she instantly accepted.

"Hi ummm... sorry for the mess, i'm Sydney, Chef de Cuisine here. You're Celía, right?"

"Yeah, thanks. No worry 'bout the chaos thing, i'm used to that, so... kitchen things, right?"

"Kitchen things", Sydney repeated with an understanding sigh. "Then let's quick start and i'll show you around?". Celía nodded with an excited smile on her face. It was all new... No established michelin restaurant, a fresh start, a challenge and yet something that promised a form of peace - away from that fucking star world.

________________________________________________________

Setting up a full restaurant from a place that was once a run-down sandwich shop was something where you could lose your mind easily, especially surrounded by a bunch of chaotic personalities - awesome people, but chaotic. Carmen Berzatto jumped from one task to another, trying his best not to get lost in anything and miss any calls or to-dos in the process. He was pretty sure that without Sugar's organization talents and Sydneys engagement, this whole renovating project would simply go down the drain. There was just so much on the list: safety certifications, legal releases, modifications of the place, setting up new kitchen equipment and of course: hiring more people. Chefs and service staff, somehow experienced.

And that hiring job became almost a full-time thing at times during the last weeks. Finding good staff just wasn't as easy as they hoped for and a lot of the job interviews weren't successfull. It was to the surprise of everyone, that one day Neil Fak - out of all people - showed up with a job application from a friend of his, which he handed out to Sydney. Carmen didn't interfere - in fact, he didn't even had the time to read that application himself. He trusted Syd's experience and human knowledge enough to let her decide if the person was interesting for them to hire or not.

Never, never in his life would it come to his mind, that Fak's friend was someone he'd seen before, especially not someone like this. Stressed out to the brink, he tried to make a list of important phone calls today. At least a little bit of peace and quiet was needed for this task, especially in a state of the restaurant, where most of the walls weren't existing anymore. His makeshift office for today was a small storage room with a door that was too thin to keep out the banter between Richie and Fak, which made it nearly impossible to concentrate, let alone making phone calls that required him to understand the person on the other line.

In his frustration he finally kicked open the door of his room, his jaw clenched in anger about of those idiots. "Can't you guys shut up at least for ONE FUCKING HOUR!" What a timing. He didn't realized at first that beside the door stood Sydney, her eyes widened and her mouth open in confusion - and right next to her the new-hire.

"Bad timing? Wanted to introduce our new chef", Sydney asked, which pulled Carmy out of his thoughts, his face instantly turning to the two women. "No, no, i just-", he started, but stopped, when his blue eyes stared at Celía and she stared back. Her hair was straight-up the opposite of what he knew, but he would recognize that face easily even though they'd barely spoke a word back then.

It was at the Empire, that hellhole of a place. He was Chef de Cuisine, but felt like a fucking nothing in the presence of Head Chef David Fields, who run this cult-like kitchen like a mental torture chamber. People came and they left, rather sooner than later and so fast that it became impossible for Carmen to keep up with their names. Only those, who stayed longer than a month were the ones, who slowly started to get a name in his memory - she was one of them. He remembered that she'd worked as Entremetier, Saucier and about one and a half month before he left this nightmare, she became Sous. He thought she'd still be there, trapped in that unhealthy place, which had made him mentally ill. Bizarrely he'd always thought she even liked it there, the only person he'd ever saw in there smiling.

"What is going on?", Syd questioned in a low tone, while her eyes went from Carmen to Celía and back to Carmen, obviously trying to make any sense why they kept staring at each other like they'd seen a ghost and froze in place. It was awkward, even weirder than that.

"We-". It was Celía, who just found her voice before Carmen was even able to open his mouth. "We worked together."

[blogfullofemos]

Okay So I Promised a Carmy Fic 😅

I definitely wrote this when I was feeling low (which has been very frequent lately, hence the lack of posting), while listening to Britney Spears- Everytime. I'll share the tidbit I wrote at the time. If I can follow through on it, I'll continue it. Enjoy.

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto x fem! reader

Summary: Carmy doesn't understand why you're giving him a cold shoulder but he really wants you to say something.

Trigger Warning: Reader is experiencing an intense anxiety attack alone from C-PTSD, stuck in a hard headspace. If it becomes hard to read PLEASE STOP. As a person who suffers from it, I just want to shed some light to it.

Also Warning: There's touching and a scratch.

Word Count: 1344

Again thank you for sticking with me, I don't post often. But when I do, I see the amazing support and greatly appreciate. 💓 Enjoy and remember, take it easy.

      You haven’t been you for a week now and Carmen knew once it started. The short responses, the quiet removal of yourself in group settings, and the fake laughter. Did he say something to trigger you? Was he pushing too much of his stresses onto you without realizing? You guys were having petty arguments lately, but he always apologized when he was wrong. You doing the same. Taking a final drag from his cig during his break, he pulls out his phone to text you.

Carmy: Hey love, do we need to talk…

Carmen looks at the message and tsk as he deletes it, that was a little too abrasive. Even if he was reading a little too deep into it. He looks around the space, trying to communicate his concerns about you in an easier light. 

Carmy: My love, is everything okay? I’m going to let everybody off early today and give you all my attention tonight. Would you mind? Just let me know ok ❤️

Carmen jumps as the back door of the restaurant slams open with a highly irritated Natalie. “CARMY can you tell RICHIE and FAK to stop messing with the FUCKING ice machine!! Hitting it with a fucking wet mop is not going to FIX the shit and don’t even get me started if a fucking health inspector THINKS of coming!!” she yells with a redden face. Is she close to crying? Carmen quickly pulled himself out of his own issues and patted Nat on her shoulder. “Take a breather Sugar.” he says gently before storming inside the building.

“CUZZO!! FAK!! YOU BETTER GIVE ME A GOOD FUCKING REASON!!” is all Nat could hear before the door slams closed behind her.

A FEW HOURS LATER *in SpongeBob narrator voice*

       Before opening the apartment door, Carmen checks his phone once more. You really left him on seen, and would he be wrong to want to confront you? No he wouldn’t, and with that he unlocks the door with all the jurisdiction in his hands. He enters and slams the door behind him, “(Y/N)!!” he yells. The apartment remains in a still silence, the living room remaining the same as it was when he left. Hastily taking off his coat and tossing it on the cluttered couch, he storms down the narrow hallway. Yelling your name once more and checking the kitchen, he stops. Hearing the dull hum of the showerhead within the closed bathroom door, he barges himself inside. Ripping the shower curtain open with your name flying out his mouth, his eyes shot open as he sees you.

       You were hugging your legs, your drenched curly hair clinging onto your curled body. Your eyes looked back at him with red, your under eyebags swollen and dark. God, how long have you been crying? You hiccupped as your face scrunched into more sadness, “I’m so sorry.” You sobbed weakly burying your face back onto your knees. Whatever anger he felt shattered in seconds, his heart dropping cold. Instantly he lowered himself to your level, placing a gentle hand on your back. You were shaking. “Hey, hey.” he says, trying to brush your wet hair from your faee. But you weren’t helping, turning your face away and letting your hair fall back into place. Carmen quickly takes his shirt off, and inches nearer to you. His arm wrapping around you, the side of the bathtub being the only barrier between you two. “Baby you gotta say something please.” his voice shakes within your hair. You sob some more as he rests his head on your shoulder, letting the cold water soak him as well.

     “I’m having a hard time.” You admit, hugging yourself tighter. Instinctually Carmen tries to pull you in tighter, his other hand resting on your thigh. “Is it about us?” he rushes as panic rises within him. You shake your head quickly, easing his inner worries in seconds. He kisses the side of your head, “Tell me what’s on your mind right now baby.” He says giving you another peck. You shake your head and sob. You were being so weak, and he didn’t deserve to deal with it. He has bigger things to be stressed about. Why be another on his list? A few minutes pass as you both listen to the water fall and your dry sobs eased up. He pets your head, “Hey look at me please.” he says. You turn your face to him and rest it on your knees, letting him brush away all your hair. His blue eyes were watery, his nose and cheeks rosy. “I’m here.” He consoles with a sniffle, resting his tatted hand on your cheek. He soothingly rubs his thumb, easing your tension headache and nerves. You close your eyes, finally relishing some form of sensation. 

      “You can trust me; I know we’ve been on bumpy grounds. But I’m not letting you go this easy.” He says, kissing your forehead. Instantly you loosen your grip on yourself and pull him in for a kiss. He grips the side of the bathtub for stability, but never letting his lips leave yours. You rest your hands in his soaked waves, pulling him in more. God, you needed him, your heart ached for his every touch. “I need you.” You plead, never wanting to break the distance. Your hands fall as you watch him stand up and undress before you. Your heavy eyes scan him slowly, his cock barely even hard and you couldn’t blame him. “Get up.” He says putting his hands out like anchors. You take a hold of them and stumble up, your body unbelievably heavy and tight. His eyes scanning your body and when you finally stood, he steps in.

    He corners you in and away from the cold water. He silently makes you look into his eyes as his fingers hold your chin gently. He takes your lips with his in a slow and soft hold. You place your hands onto his shoulders, pulling him closer. He puts his hand on the side of your neck, the other above your head. You open your mouth more and brush your tongue on his upper lip, granting him more access which he quickly followed. Every movement he made, even in the make out, subtle and slow. He’s letting you take the lead, unsure if you were doing this to use him as a distraction but fuck it if you were. It was better than any thing else. He breaks the make out for a breather before heading to your favorite spot on your neck, pecking it as his hands rests below your breasts. “Carmy.” You whisper as you arch your back to try and press your body against his. He only smiles against your skin as he licks your neck before giving it a nip.

      You moan as he starts suckling the area. Bringing your hand within his hair and gripping it, the other clawing his shoulder for more. He grips your ribs only slightly from the scratch you were giving him, “Easy babe.” he says.

“Sorry.” you apologize, moving the hand to his side. You rest your head back and close your eyes, letting your body take in the tantalizing sensations. His hands fondling your breasts, fingers teasing your nipples, and his mouth marking up your neck. Maybe you can trust him. Maybe he is strong enough to deal with your messy ass. Maybe you could love him deeper than this. You took a deep inhale as you told him everything. The way your cptsd is chewing you alive and your anxiety just adding the many cherries on top. Carmen stopped marking up your neck to hold you in an embrace. He listened as your body shook every sentence that spewed out, kissing your temple and rubbing your back. He asked questions on things he didn’t quite understand, and you answered.  “I’m sorry for throwing so much on you, I-I.” you try to finish while wiping your eyes, but Carmen shooshes you.

      “I’m just happy you told me.” he smiles, kissing your temple one more time. 

[psychicpinenut]

okay this season was stressful but in a different way.

the quick pacing i'm used to was not there, there were scenes that were dragged out waaaay too much like genuinely did we need these chefs in ep 10 talking about their careers for like 10 fucking minutes?? and while it was a big emotional thing, did we really have to have an entire episode of JUST sugar and donna? like 40 minutes of nat going into labor and talking with her mom? idk...

i think a lot of sydcarmy peeps can't look past their frustration about the ship but since i lowered my expectations before, i could look at it more objectively. i don't know why people are saying claire had so much screentime this season, i was actually surprised at the lack of it, like they brought her up once or twice, we would get the occasional flashback but other than that i actually expected her to be in it more and for their conflict to at least begin to get resolved. atp i think carmy waited too long to apologize and it would be weird if she forgave him after all this.

anyway carmy went full psycho. he just keeps saying stuff and reassuring sydney but he never actually follows through with anything. he promises and promises and just falls back into his old patterns. like my dude you can't just keep talking and not actually do any of what you're saying. actions matter, not words. this is why sydney wants to leave you. which leads me into sydney just taking all his crap. why is she not saying anything? the whole season i was waiting for that big final blow-up, The Fight they were gonna have about his behavior which never came. she's just suffering in silence and wants to leave instead of trying to save their baby (the bear). and i understand!!! i totally understand why she wants to leave but at the same time i want her to fight for it. it's her dream also, they made it together. if she has to kick carmy in the balls to do it then so be it. like why is she letting him fuck up their restaurant?

carmy doesn't ask and she's not saying anything, major communication issues.

also way too many fucking faks. didn't ask, didn't care.

but i also have the mind to realize that carmy was supposed to be unlikeable this season i think. since this seems to be part 1 of someone, this was probably just a set up to something else and that's why the pacing felt off. so i'm keeping that in mind. i enjoyed this season actually like it was tremendous but it felt very slow.

[untitled12345678910111213141516]

Avengers x Reader

Relationships: Avengers x platonic!fem!reader, Soft!Natasha x Wanda x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of Self harm, Panic Attack (PLEASE DON'T READ IF THESE TRIGGER YOU)

Authors Note: This is my first published fanfic, I don't know why but I've had this idea for a while and finally decided to write it. I hope you like it, please don't hesitate to post constructive criticism. Thanks!

P.S. - Merry Christmas! :)

Word Count: 1123 

My eyes fly open as I jerk awake a cold sweat soaking my entire body, my eyes begin to burn and I desperately reach across to the other sides of the bed only to grasp cold sheets and the tears in my eyes threaten to spill over, Nat and Wanda have been gone for over a month now on an undercover mission somewhere in Europe, I miss them terribly. They don’t know about my issues, about how messed up I am, they don’t know that when they first came into my life they were the only things I had to live for.

I’ve been cooped up in our room for the last month, ever since they left on that godforsaken mission. I know their work is important but I just wish they could be home more often, that way I don’t have to keep lying to Nora that someone is with me practically all the time, she doesn’t even know that Nat and Wanda don’t know about my issues. I twist in bed staring at the wall, if they knew would they even still want me, or would they hate me just as much as I hate myself.

I finally tear my gaze away from the wall and begin hauling myself out of bed, the normally warm and light comforter feels like a block of ice. I slowly trudge over to the bathroom, my hand reaching out and snagging onto my phone, grabbing it using my left hand. I don't use my right hand unless it's strictly necessary. One other thing Wanda and Nat don't know about me, I don't have a right hand. Only Fury and Maria know, it's not even in shield records. I had to make it myself, that's probably why it hurts like hell whenever I wear it. 

I shuffle into the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look like trash. God how am I gonna be able to get ready it time for Wanda and Nat to get home this afternoon? The tears that I've been holding back since I managed to drag myself out of bed come flowing quickly now as I drag my fingernails along the many, now bloody cuts on my upper arms, I crumple to the ground sobbing. I can feel the final shoe dropping as the black pit begins to swallow me whole, there will be no coming back this time.

I don't know how long I sit there on the freezing bathroom tile, my body shaking uncontrollably. My sobs stopped long ago and now I only feel numb, I look down at my hand as I feel warm blood trickle down my shoulders. My fingernails are covered in dried blood but I can't bring myself to care. I am startled out of thoughts as I hear Wanda's voice pierce the sharp silence of our apartment, "We're home моя любовь!"

No, no, no, no, no! My breathing picks up as I scramble back from the locked bathroom door, my hand slipping as I try to use it and my stump to push myself through the bloody floor into the corner of the room. I can't let them see me like this.

"любовь?" Natasha's voice seems to echo through my entire head as I begin to hyperventilate. "Are you in there?" 

I remain silent as tears begin to pour steadily down my cheeks. She walks closer to the door and knocks three times, I remain silent even as I hear Wanda gasp from the other side of the door.

"She-she's in there. God, Nat she's in a lot of pain I-I can feel it." It breaks my heart to hear Wanda's voice tremble like that and even through the door I can hear her holding back tears. 

"I'm coming in Y/n!" A soft click fills the room as Natasha picks the lock and I bury my face Into the wall refusing to look at them as I quickly hide my stump of a hand behind my back. 

A choked gasp fills the room as they take in the scene in front of them, me huddled against the wall, blood trickling from the exposed cuts on my shoulders, my fake skin colored hand, the bones jutting from my entire body, they can count every single one of ribs even as I am curled up on the ground. 

Their shoes click on the hard marble floor and all of a sudden I am scooped into Wanda's warm arms and Natasha is twisting my face, gently getting me to look her in the eye. As soon as I look into her tear filled eyes I crumble, collapsing forward into her chest sobbing as I clench her shirt in my hand as I hear her gasp once more as they finally get a glimpse of my stump.

"Oh малыш." Their hold on me tightens as I continue grasping onto Natasha for dear life sobbing into the crook of her neck. Soon their own tears begin to mix with mine as we huddle together sobbing on the bathroom floor. How are they still here? God, I thought they would have left by now, most people do. My parents did

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

I jerk awake in bed- wait bed? How the hell did I get here? I rack my brain for what happened, the last thing I remember is Nat and Wanda- No, no, no, no, no. My vision begins to blur with tears as my breathing picks up in speed, my hold body shaking with barely contained sobs. They probably left me already. My hand darts up to my uncovered shoulder as I feel the bloody bandages covering them and I push myself over the edge. Soon I am curled up under the covers shaking horribly as my vision begins to cloud over, I can't breathe! I can't breathe. I don't realize I'm screaming it out loud until the covers are brushed back from my face and a blurry shape slowly comes closer. 

"Hey, hey, sweetheart, just follow my breathing. Okay love?" The woman's voice is soft and strangely familiar. I gasp, "N-Nat?" I practically throw myself into her embrace, shaking and sobbing as I struggle to breathe. 

"Yes, малыш it's me. I need you to listen to me okay love? Just try and match my breathing." After a few minutes my breathing finally calms down and I feel Wanda join us on the other side of the bed.

"I missed you." My voice is hoarse from all the sobbing. 

"Oh малыш, we missed you too." Wanda's sweet voice whispers into my ear as they wrap me in a warm embrace and I know that with them here, maybe just maybe things might get better?

[papipopsicle]

AFTERTASTE PART FIVE

Pairing: Archie Andrews X Reader

Genre: fluff and some angst

Summary: In which two best friends since childhood test whether sex and friendship can co-exist without causing conflict. Including OC's Flick and Cherry, a bisexual and lesbian in a sapphic relationship who are best friends of Y/N.

Song: Candy by Doja Cat

Warnings: swearing, minors consuming alcohol

Words: 3.6K

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

     Y/N lasted two weeks before thoughts of even throwing the bet came to mind. She had been strong so far; making sure to wear her tightest outfits and highest heels, being extra touchy-feely with Archie and not reacting to his moves in the slightest. Her personal favourite moment was sitting on his lap at the Twilight Drive-In and giving him a hard-on whilst Kevin and Betty sat next to them non the wiser.

But now, on day eighteen, she needed reinforcements. The redhead realised his attempts were failing miserably and he couldn't help his reactions to Y/N’s provocative movements. He turned it up a notch, becoming rather possessive of the five foot blonde knowing she enjoyed that side of him. He carefully walked the line of teasing and taunting like a tightrope, always whispering in her ear and letting his hand rest on her inner thigh under the table. And now, Y/N found herself wanting to pounce him whenever he caught her eye. It was getting out of hand, so she called for the only two people who could possibly help.

"Have you tried doing the bend and snap?" Cherry asked out of the blue, her head rested on her girlfriends lap as the three watched Clueless from the comfort of Felicity's bed.

"Babe," the blue haired girl said with a sigh and took a handful of M&Ms, "I love you but I don't think our answer lies in a two-thousand's rom-com."

"Hey, it worked on you, didn't it?" The brunette grinned smugly and leaned up to kiss the girl above her, earning a handful of chocolate to be launched in their direction and a disgruntled groan from the blonde sitting beside them.

Y/N pouted, "Please stop reminding me how single I am."

At this, the two girls pulled away and sent her the same bewildered look, "You wouldn't be if you told that hunky ginger you're in love with him!" Flick barked, a hand playing with the hem of her partner's shirt whilst the other flew up in desperation.

The y/h/c girl sent her friends an incredulous glare, it only growing when their shared 'you know I'm right' smile made an appearance. She took a handful of sweets and irritably shoved them in her mouth, "I am not in love with Archie Andrews... I just want his body on my body... in a variety of ways, and locations... multiple times."

"Right, so let me just get this straight," Cherry sat upright and gathered her hair over one shoulder, she paused the film and sent the petite girl a serious look, "you really think a no-strings-attached relationship can actually work? Have you even seen Friends With Benefits? It doesn't work! Sure it's all fun and games now but it's only a matter of time before one of you catches feelings and shit gets real. Then we'll have to pick sides, obviously you automatically get us, but I really liked Archie, he was promising..."

"What my gorgeous girlfriend means, is that we won't have this relationship ruined because you two can't keep it in your pants. We've put a lot of work and effort into this ship and it isn't going to waste, this isn't some TV teen drama shit, there's no need to wait until season 6 to actually be happy. Don't be Lydia and Stiles." Flick rounded up, taking the remote and pressing play.

Y/N simply sighed and slouched against the pillows, her attention turning back to the TV as she sulked, "I came here for your advice, and honestly now it feels like my moms are telling me I can't have sex with my hot best friend because they ship us too hard romantically. How can sex ruin a friendship? That's like saying extra sprinkles ruin ice cream! Anyways, none of that matters unless I win this stupid bet."

"You know Y/N/N, asking a lesbian and a bisexual whose only ever been with a girl on how to seduce a boy isn't exactly your best move." Cherry commented, snuggling under her blanket with a near-empty bowl of mini-pretzels at her side.

"My advice? Just be yourself, dumbass. Clearly for some weird reason he's into that, so it's only a matter of time until he gives in and this insanity will end. Boys think with their dicks and have a lot less will-power than us. For fucks sake, he's sprung when your name's mentioned in passing conversation, clearly he wants to bone your brains out. Wait it out, you're one stubborn chick when you want to be, you got this."

Two days later, on one rather fateful Friday night, Y/N found herself in the midst of a party thrown by none other than the Blossom twins. It had been a while since she'd spoken to either of them, but since their entire year was currently making out on the couches, the invitation wasn't all that strange. She and Betty had spent the evening getting ready whilst rocking out to the cheesiest music known to their generation. The smaller blonde wore a little red number with lace cutouts, and only managed to convince her taller friend to ditch the mom-jeans for a conservative royal blue knee-length dress. Baby steps, she told herself whilst trying her best not to cut a deeper neckline in the mass of material.

Betty Cooper had absolutely no idea what was going on between two of her three best friends; and although she'd always been silently jealous of their closeness, she was used to it and didn't think twice to question it. Y/N spritzed her neck and wrists with her favourite perfume, Daisy Dream, and gave herself a final once over in the large mirror beside her wardrobe.

With perfect timing, like some magical intuition, Y/N’s phone buzzed, notifying her their ride was outside. She grinned at the taller girl and slipped her black Louis Vuitton's on, "Ready, m'lady?"

"I-I don't know, Y/N/N." Betty panicked, wringing her hands together as a worrisome look etched onto her face, "What if my mom sees us leave? She'll kill me if she finds out we're going to a Blossom party."

"She won't. And even if she does, she'll only see us getting into a car with Cherry and Flick, just tell her they invited us over for a girl's night or something... Stop worrying about the future, and start living in the now! You look smokin', I look hot, we are not wasting my precious work on Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore again, capisce?" Y/N didn't allow even a millisecond to pass before dragging the taller girl downstairs with her where they met Polly and Ren.

The four took a few quick photos together and hightailed it out to the red convertible sitting on the edge of the drive. Polly switched places with Flick and the happy couple sat in the back on each other's lap, leaving Y/N and Betty sat beside them like two spare wheels.

When the group of girls arrived, Cheryl graciously directed them down to the basement. Thoughts of being led down to a torture chamber came to mind as the redhead opened a large squeaky door, but those died down when the smell of liquor and sound of house music hit them like a brick wall.

So now, an hour into the night, it was just Betty and Y/N standing at the side of the room with a red solo cup in hand. Polly ran off to find her beloved boyfriend as soon as she arrived and Y/S/N just so happened to find herself hitting on a nearby houseplant. 'Flicky' were playing beer pong, well cider for them, against Reggie and Moose, and were winning with only one cup standing.

The petite girl, who still stood below her friend even in four inch heels, was about to save her sister from some terrible mugshots, but a strong arm stopped her in her tracks and pulled her back into a muscly chest.

"Where'd you think you're going, gorgeous?" A deep voice breathed in her ear, and a second later she ripped herself away from the boy, instantly recognising him and wishing to be the other side of the building right now. Though her actions were quick, the brunette pinned her to the nearest wall and stared hazily into her wide chartreuse-coloured eyes. Y/N actually laughed at the irony of the location, finding it funny that the last time she was in this position it was rather enjoyable.

"Fuck off, Chuck." The girl took another sip of her drink, not bothering to pay the boy any attention because that's exactly what he wanted. Though, when his arms moved from the wall to around her waist and neck, forcing Y/N to look up at him, she felt like punching the stupid smile off his smug face. But with one hand stuck at her side and the other holding her drink, she simply settled for chucking her remaining vodka-lemonade at the boy.

He chuckled cynically and wiped his face down, eyes darkening as he pushed himself against her with even more force, "Now, now. That's no way to treat the best fuck you've ever had. Why don't we go find somewhere quiet, for old times sake." He commanded, his tone leaving no room for questioning or any form of verbal consent.

But Y/N scoffed and chucked her now empty cup at his face, "Do you really want to be known for rape, as well as leaking a fifteen year old's sex tape, that you were a part of let's not forget?"

He sighed and brought a hand up to cup her face, coarse fingers gripping her jaw achingly tight, "Y/N/N, aren't we past that? I was mad and you embarrassed me in front of the entire football team, what did you expect me to do? Can't we just forget about that?" His other arm aggressively tugged her closer, "C'mon, you know you want me, slut."

Y/N had her eyebrows raised intolerably the entire time he spoke, and when she realised this had no affect on him, she cocked her head ever so slightly. That word felt so good coming from Archie's lips weeks ago. But with Chuck's intoxicated breath panting down on her made up face, she felt completely and utterly violated, physically and mentally.

She hid the look of disgust as best as possible and simply let her best fake alluring smile grace her features; Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and looked ever so sweetly into his darkened eyes, "Clayton, we were together for what, eight months? And somehow, in that entire time, you never made me orgasm, not even close. I feel sorry for any girl, or whoever else who has to put up with your shitty oral. Don't you ever, ever use that word against me or any other girl. Don't touch me, you do not and shall never have consent to touch my body, remember that." She smoothly spoke, her voice laced with sugar-coated venom.

Using his drunken and shocked state to her advantage, Y/N unhooked his arms and rushed off to find one particular individual. She fought through the endless crowd of teenagers and after ten minutes of searching, Archie was nowhere to be found. A light tapping on one shoulder caused the y/h/c girl to spin on her heels, ready to slap a bitch if it were another jock.

But thankfully it wasn't, and Y/N let out a sigh of relief when her eyes found Betty's figure. She took her taller friend by the arms and asked, "Have you seen Archie at all? There's three fucking gingers at this party and I can only spot two."

"Last time I saw him he was in line for the bathroom, and that was around five minutes ago." The taller blonde said, peering down at her friend in concern as a hand smoothed down her signature ponytail instinctively, "Is there anything I can help with?"

Betty's question almost flew right past her as she searched for the toilet queue, but thankfully she managed to make out a few words, and quickly put two and two together. Y/N shook her head and finally looked at her friend, "It's alright, but one of us is about to lose a bet, I'll tell you who once I find out."

Betty's expression contorted at that, and she began to feel an uneasiness settling in the pit of her stomach. The Cooper girl did her best to hide her jealousy along with her crush on Archie. She'd always viewed Y/N as the unwanted cog in the machine, but as the months went on she couldn't help but feel like a spare part.

With that, the petite girl marched off and soon found herself pushing through throngs of her drunken classmates until a head of fiery-red hair poked up above the crowd. He was joking and laughing with Reggie, both wearing giddy smiles whilst sipping from from their cups every so often.

Y/N was used to being easily knocked, because she was so tiny in relation to the 6 foot something masses of muscle she called her friends, so it came as no surprise when someone practically rammed her right into the middle of the boys' conversation. Luckily, being the gentleman he was, Archie's arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to steady her toppling body. Their chatting ceased and it took Reggie no less than a second to start talking to someone else, leaving the red-haired boy looking down in confusion at his best friend.

"You okay there, Tiger?" He asked, gingerly hooking a few strands of her y/h/c hair behind her ear, making Y/N crane her neck up to watch him intently for a moment. She bit down on her lower lip and let out an intoxicated little giggle, "My knight in shining armour, however will I repay you?"

Archie breathed out a deep chuckle and smirked, "I can think of a few ways..." he all but muttered. Y/N’s thoughts flickered back to just moments ago in the lull of silence, and that was all the boy needed to lead her out of the packed basement. He saw the look confliction in her eyes, not quite understanding it, "has something else happened, Y/N/N?"

"Do you remember last spring, when I finally broke it off with Chuck... and then he, you know?" She tried to clarify, but her words wavered and fell short.

"Released a video of you two without your consent and only got suspended for a week?" Archie almost growled his voice felt so heavy. He hated remembering their relationship. Not only because he wanted Y/N to be only his, but because he was forced to see his best friend humiliated and heartbroken all at the same time and couldn't stop it.

"That's the one." The girl looked down, unable to meet his eyes as her mind raced back to one of the darkest weeks of her life. But she pulled herself away from the horrible memories, "Look, it happened and I can't change that, but I really don't want to be around him right now."

"We'll go back to mine right now, Tiger." Archie affirmed with his hand now cupping her made up face, bringing her gaze back to his own.

"Woah, didn't realise you two were a thing." A slurring Reggie turned back around and winked at the pair with his usual cheeky smile, "Don't worry, I won't tell."

Y/N giggled and hiccuped at the same time, "Fuck off, Reg."

"Hey, if you hurt her, Andrews, I'll knock you into next year." The Asian boy only partly joked with his best friend.

The Robins girl pulled herself away from the wall and wrapped her arms around Reggie, "My hero!"

"Yeah, yeah." He hugged her back, not too hard though as in his drunken state he was scared he might snap her in half with all his muscular might. "I love you too, Y/N/N."

She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek before returning to Archie's side, clasping his hand in her own and leading the both of them away from the raucous party. Nobody seemed to notice in their happy little haze, even if they did, most people assumed the two were sleeping together anyway.

"Does it bother you at all?" Y/N small voice called as they walked down the narrow roads back home. She didn't know whether the answer would be something she wanted to hear, but it had been bothering her for the past minute or so.

Archie's brows furrowed, slightly more sober and completely not understanding his companion's train of thought, "Does what bother me?"

"That people assume so much about us? That we're sleeping together? That we're a couple?" She pondered.

"Not unless it's something that puts you in a negative light, otherwise I really couldn't care less about other people's opinions. Everyone has them, but the only ones that matter to me are my friends and my family's." Archie reassured her.

Y/N giggled at her own joke, "I thought you were going to say they're like assholes?"

The boy looked at her incredulously.

"Everybody has one." She grinned and wrapped her arm around his waist as his own found its way to her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth. The rest of the walk was silent after that, cool summers air bringing an ease to Y/N's tipsy frame. Twenty minutes must have gone by before they saw the Andrews' household finally in view, it was anything but awkward though. Their hands clasped swinging between them, the girl's feet beginning to ache from the regrettable choice of five inch heels.

They shared giggles and passing comments that wouldn't make sense the next morning, gleeful smiles hanging from cheek to cheek. Before Archie had the chance to hunt for his key, the front door opened with Fred sending the two teenagers a short look of annoyance.

"Get in already." He rolled his tired eyes, not wanting to question why his son's best friend was currently looking up at him with hidden adoration as she slipped off her shoes.

Y/N hiccuped and sent the adult an apologetic smile, "Sorry if we woke you, Freddie."

"I couldn't sleep anyway, kid, don't worry about it." Fred gave her a kind smile and felt her small frame hug his own. He returned it as always and after a few moments, let the teenagers carry on upstairs. The girl immediately went into the bathroom and found her small bottle of cleanser under the sink, removing her heavy make up before returning to her best friends room.

Y/N couldn't help but gawk at the sight her eyes were greeted with, the redheads body clad with tight boxers with his warm bedside lamp lighting the room, and his muscular build, perfectly. Her hands lightly traced his back, making Archie jump before leaning into her touch.

"I'm still going to win this bet," She whispered, shutting the bedroom door and pulling the boy down to his bed with her, "but Arch, can I ask you something?"

Y/N's head nearly reached the wall as the redhead towered over her, hot breath tickling her skin while he rest himself against her without putting any weight down. "Of course." The words floated from his lips so easily, knowing his whole life he'd do anything or answer whatever she wanted.

"Do you think we're meant to be more than friends? I think I've finally realised it's not that we were never and will never be romantic in each other's minds, it's always been that way but we've just never really known." The Robins girl seemed so sure of her words, staring up into his amber eyes with so much honest admiration.

He watched her for what felt like forever, not knowing whether it was the alcohol in them both or just that the little game they were playing didn't matter anymore, and decided to throw that away. A short gasp fell from Y/N's lips as Archie caught them, rolling over and pulling her on top of his chest.

"You're right, I've always wanted us to be more than friends Y/N/N, ever since Leonardo went missing when we were in sixth grade and you kissed my cheek when I found him." Archie propped himself up and returned that same gesture. She stole a kiss but he didn't let it end, running his fingers through her curled blonde hair.

"Arch?" Her small voice called out, sitting atop of his torso still in her revealing red dress. He nodded back with the biggest smile, unable to control the pure joy as her next words tumbled into the world, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

"I don't have a choice, since I lost the bet, do I?" He mocked, smile not falling as she hit his chest and rolled her eyes. "Yes, of course, yes, I'll be your boyfriend."

PART SIX

[workdiary]

SO! We’re in lockdown for a month due to the plague and let me tell you, zoom and 2nd graders: not easy. However! They can be highly amusing! So today’s story time revolves around zoom and the chat option that should always be watched. So the main teacher usually disabled it during class time because 2nd graders can and will get distracted by it but for the 5 minutes we wait for all the kiddos to log on she keeps it open. This was a mistake.

Usually our kids take the time to just keyboard smash or type a nice hello or even the stray I love you! My job as the TA is to do the register as the they come in as that’s just the easiest way to do it but I also used to look at the chat when we had it on during class time in case of questions from the students or their parents. The button smashing led to that lovely feature being disabled. Therefore, I no longer looked at the chat all that often anymore. I opened it today because the little notification was starting to annoy me. It was then that I saw it. The message. One of my kids opened the chat, the very first message of the day, with “fak you all”.

Now my gut reaction was to burst into laugh but I was able to stop that because I didn’t want to drag everyone’s attention to that lovely greeting. I took a picture and sent it to the main teacher to give her a heads up hey this exists! She just looks absolutely done and gives the heaviest sigh Ive ever heard. I ask her “what do we do?” Because we in no way want to try to explain why this shouldn’t be said to a child who might have put in typo (it is in now way a typo). So our plan of action was ignore ignore ignore and it was working until one of the girls calls out to us and says exactly this “ you might want to look at the chat”. Bless her soul only 7 and already understands the need for discretion. I tell her we know and that we’ll take care of it. She nods and end of conversation. I thought we were free, that we avoided an absolute mess. I was wrong.

Today was spelling test day and we needed to mark it right then and there. We decided that we would do a break out room and have half the kiddos with me and the other half the main teacher so we could mark it quicker. So I go to the breakout room and I’m getting ready to do some quick marking but I am interrupted by one of the boys. “MISS MISS ON THE CHAT-” I stop him right there because the kiddo who sent it is in my break out room and we don’t want to give him attention. I tell him that I saw it and that the main teacher will take care of it. That should have been the end of it. It wasn’t. The damage is already in motion. I turn from him to call out to one of the kids and he yells as loud as he can “ (kiddo) SAID FUCK YOU TO US”. Complete silence. If there was hope that none of the other kiddos saw the message, out the window. I need to damage control but I’m stuck in shock and my next gut response isn’t all that helpful asI once again have to prevent myself from laughing because he said that with so much passion and sounded so offended that I can hear the meme “ the audacity” all over his tone of voice. All I could do is reprimand him, saying that he can’t say that and that this word is rude and that the other boy will be getting in trouble.

Moral of this story is that zoom chat is a menace and that 2nd graders can and will say whatever they want no matter how much you try to get them to just not.