#i get a headache like this at least once a week now it seems
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HEARTBREAKING! man has worst headache known to man but can't take anything for it because he already took meds for a headache earlier and cannot take any more for the day
#đŞ.text#aaaand this is exactly why i almost never take meds for headaches anyway#because knowing my luck i will take meds for a more minor headache earlier in the day in hopes to stop it before it hits hard#only to end up with a much worse headache later in the day that i now can no longer take anything for#because i have already taken as many as i can in a 24 hour period#''oh why don't you just not take the max dosage the first time then''#because if i don't most likely they won't do shit#honestly even taking the max dose sometimes doesn't even work#it technically didn't this morning because i have had a headache all day#it just was more tolerable earlier in the day#but now i feel like my head is gonna split open or explode. not sure which.#i get a headache like this at least once a week now it seems#and meds only work like. half of the time.#if even half.#it seems like most of the time they never do anything#hence why most of the time i don't even bother and just suffer#because if i do take anything well there's a high chance they won't even work and so i will just continue to suffer#and it'll just be a waste of meds#so why bother trying.#hm. realizing now that's probably not normal is it
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âHSR YANDERES AS TROPES.
Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...
content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away
Aventurine - Amnesia
WHATâS PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick
Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think heâs your lover.
Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. Itâs obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.
And you? You felt out of place.
A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldnât make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.
The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-
Wait Avgin?...
âSweetheart! Youâve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How⌠CanâŚ?â He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.
He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you.Â
But then why do you feel-
Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened.Â
And at that moment you realize you couldnât even recall who you were.
After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome manâs name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.
You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed⌠scared.
Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine.Â
One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment.Â
You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about⌠you?
âIPC⌠they⌠lies⌠Aventurine⌠hiding.â Those were the only few words you were able to make out.
It no longer mattered though because Aventurineâs bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldnât know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.
After the recovery, you settled in enough to âyour lifeâ. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn babyâs laughter. You feel content for the most part.
I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurineâs perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if youâll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isnât so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities heâs committed in the name of âloveâ. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.
So tonight like any other night, youâll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.
â˘â˘â˘
Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine
WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez
The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. Itâs adorable on paper, isnât it?
You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though.Â
You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you.Â
Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.
Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy.Â
Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasnât a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?
Until you tried to back away. Things got⌠messy.Â
Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.
âYou donât respect me.â You stated firmly.
âBut I love you.â He replied as if nothing was wrong.
You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.
It began small from making excuses on why you shouldnât go out,
âItâs my day off!â or âIt might rain soon.â Both are lazy excuses youâve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.
You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.
At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didnât remember the last time when you had left the estate.Â
You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuanâs perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldnât see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses.Â
You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work
Because you love him.
And you donât not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally âperfectâ marriage.Â
Or.
The fact youâll still stay even if it gets worse.
Why?
Because you love him.
â˘â˘â˘
Blade - Forced Proximity.
WHATâS PLAYING: This is Love - Air Traffic Controller
Thereâs blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything youâve been able to find youâve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls âyourâ home to no avail.
Bladeâs red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps heâs wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesnât care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain.Â
But.
Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. Youâd joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least thatâs what appeared. Loving Blade wasnât difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him.Â
You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want youâll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. Itâs nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter.Â
Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You donât have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck.Â
Itâs Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your ârelationshipâ. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware itâs no use. Thereâs no place in the universe where Blade wonât find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.
â˘â˘â˘
Sunday - Soulmates
WHATâS PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo
Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, âsoulmatesâ left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding âtrue loveâ.
True love was a fairytale. Something that didnât exist and thatâs what you stood by ever since.
Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldnât love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?
You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didnât have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. Youâve met others who found their âsoulmatesâ, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves.Â
On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the âreal worldâ.
Real world huh?
You think you miss the real world a little bit.Â
âAre the pastries not to your liking love?â Sunday inquires.
âTheyâre⌠fine.â You reply.
Sunday smiles. You donât know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.
Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate.Â
Except,
Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though.Â
You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.
Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you.Â
Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.
#blade hsr#blade x reader#yandere x reader#yandere blade#yandere jing yuan#yandere sunday#yandere aventurine#hsr aventurine#hsr blade#jing yuan x reader#aventurine x reader#hsr sunday x you#sunday x reader#yandere hsr#yandere honkai star rail#hsr x reader#hsr x gender neutral reader#hsr yandere#yandere#hsr imagines#hsr fluff#blade x female reader#jing yuan#sunday#aventurine honkai star rail#penacony#blade x y/n#sunday x you#aventurine x you#jing yuan x you
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đŁđŽđŹđ đ đĽđ˘đđđĽđ đĽđ¨đ§đ đđŤ.
summary: one time zoro pushes your affections away and another time when he begrudgingly accepts them. pairing: zoro x gn!reader cw: none, zoro being a cutie and confused about soft feelings an: just some fluff bc I have a headache and I wanna give him a hug :( wc: 1.2k
it seemed like zoro had always let the oddest things to happen to him.
heâd let chopper climb atop his head, tiny hooves brushing through strands of moss green hair. when the reindeerâs soft fur tickled the skin of his cheeks, he didnât blink.
heâd let usopp cling to him in fear, idly looking around with a bored expression as the sniper tugged at his hakama or pushed him right toward whatever threat lay before them.
the list goes on and on, the ever stoic swordsman never really putting in the effort to actively resist his crew mates or the occasional curious animal.
with that in mind, you figured that youâd be able to get away with some gestures of your own.
after a particularly rough battle, youâd been so utterly happy that your arms wrapped around the rugged swordsman, squeezing him tight.
you blame it on the adrenaline, not those pesky feelings of yours that you refuse to acknowledge.
it was an innocent embrace, imbued with nothing but affection and glee, yet that didnât stop him from tensing at your touch.
the next thing you remember is being pushed away, gently but firmly, and feeling dumbfounded.
âthe hell are you doing?â he had roughly questioned, brushing off your much-too-sweet touches from his person.
uncomfortable.
he was uncomfortable and he hated it, not particularly fond of feeling so vulnerable from something as simple as a damn hug.
looking between him and your still awkwardly stretched out arms, you come to a sort of realization.
zoro didnât just let things happen to him. no, he allowed them. every touch and tug and pinch was permitted, actively decided upon by the marimo.
that fiasco was almost a whole week ago, the thousand sunny now barreling through the rolling waves of the sea in the hopes of reaching a winter island.
even as the air became colder, the clouds darker, you continued to simmer.
unjustifiable annoyance creeps into your brain just thinking about how he pushed you away, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and hurt alike.
he didnât feel that bad.
the swordsman had boundaries, which was understandable, set in place for the sake of self-preservation.
that small flip his heart did when he felt you hug him? the boiling heat that clawed up from his chest to his cheeks and to the tips of his ears? absolutely not.
he didnât want to deal with that, especially after a fight and with the rest of the crew watching.
it took time for you to adjust your actions, to maneuver around the barriers heâd set in place for himself.
being the stubborn little thing you were, you decided to throw yourself into the jaws of the tiger once more.
you try your luck on a brumal morning, a light frost already starting to form on the deck. it seems like the water is still, the sea easily parting as the ship effortlessly glides on its surface.
the observation deck is your destination, where youâre sure the marimo will be.
and indeed he is, outwardly unaffected by the biting cold.
meticulous as ever, at least when it comes to his craft, he sits on a mat and polishes his blades. shoulders relaxed, but eyes sharp, he goes about his task with precision.
he knows youâve just entered the observation room, thinking that a nod of his head and a small grunt is enough of a greeting.
the scent of steel and polish hang in the air as he continues, figuring that youâd come in to grab something.
he doesnât expect to be what you want. what else was he good for besides swinging a damn sword around?
you mask your nerves and step inside, taking brisk steps towards the swordsman. itâs now or never, you think, quick to take a seat behind him on the mat.
with slow and gentle movements, you situate yourself into your preferred position.
your chest presses into his back, the rough material of his shirt not enough to keep you from resting your cheek there.
your inner thighs hug his outer ones, the firmness of the muscle beneath forcing you to hold back a shudder. sealing the deal, you loosely wrap your arms around his midsection.
âgood morning.â you mumble, speaking to him as if he were a deer about to bolt.
silence is what you get in return and you wish you could peer into that thick skull of his to see what he was thinking.
warm.
thatâs how zoro feels at first, before something akin to discomfort starts to gnaw away at him.
his hands come to a stop, his head lifting as he stared ahead and processed just what the hell you were doing.
thereâs a split second of stillness- a period of time where he decides if he wants to revel in your touch or bask in his solitude for a moment longer.
it feels like eons pass before the tension is broken, fizzling into nothing as if it didnât exist in the first place.
his hands resume their task of polishing his prized swords. the muscles in his body relax and everything else suddenly melts away.
he grants you permission.
he allows it.
âmorning.â he grumbles back, speaking with an air of nonchalance that contrasted with how fast his mind was racing.
itâs a delicate balance, as frail as the thin layer of ice starting to form on the glass windows.
you know now more than ever to hold off on the banter and teasing, unless you wanted to get bucked off.
taking what youâve been given, youâre content enough with releasing a deep breath and letting the rise and fall of his back lull you into a light doze.
time seems to pass slower in this world, in this little pocket of tranquility which exists only for the two of you.
when you finally decide to loosen your grip and pull away, he lets out a noise equivalent to a growl.
heâs almost offended.
one of his hands holds your wrist in place, his grip firm. heâs never been good at displaying tenderness, his words unintentionally gruff. âoi, where are ya goinâ?â
he releases your arm, almost daring you to defy him. his muscles relax once more, calloused hands resuming the tedious task of polishing steel as he picks up his next sword.
his tone is softer, spoken as a mumble as if he was afraid of saying too much. âjust stay a little longer.â
the request has you momentarily astonished, eyes widening a tad before you got a grip on yourself. your arms settle back around his waist, a pleasant buzz spreading in your chest and down to your toes.
you were well aware that this was a rare opportunity, one that you could not and would not pass up.
so, you let out a sigh and rest your cheek on his back once more.
his aura seems to encapsulate you, making you feel safe and at ease.
heâs satisfied with your reaction, how you effortlessly unwind and how your breaths even out.
once again, heâs warm.
zoro decides that he can spend hours just like this.
for the crew, he could always be a demon. for you? he wouldn't mind being a bit more human.
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Azure blue skies and endless summer breeze tails you through the rolling green countryside of San Gimignano, Italy. This was true, pure bliss. A flow of relaxation that you havenât felt sinceâŚMerlin knows when. The stress of endless exams and finals, everlasting prefect duties, and bickering with your horrid nemesis really left a mark; as represented by your unrelenting dark circles and deep forehead lines.
But at least all of that was giving way to the Italian atmosphere and it left behind a happy girl that would donate a kidney to spend her entire summer here. Unfortunately you were only visiting for a week before school began once more; your final year. This brought a sense of dread to your heart as you would miss the enchanting castle. Your second home.
You pushed that aside as you zoomed through the countryside of this ravishing country on your cute little teal Vespa. Truth be told youâd never driven a muggle vehicle before, but thereâs always a first time for everything.
And so your lack of experience with muggle vehicles was the cause of you not being aware that gas has to be filled. You thought the meter getting closer to 0 represented the dissipation of your happy mood as you were, per usual, plaguing yourself with paranoid and pessimistic thoughts. The sudden shuddering of the Vespa made you lose balance and you began veering off track, you and your precious vehicle zooming down a hill with the sheer force of gravity. You screamed for dear life, and, at last, landed in a shallow pond with an enormous splash.
You bobbed up, gasping for air, and scrambled out of the lake quite ungracefully, summer outfit ruined and soaking wet. And suddenly, you heard a scarily familiar, devilish chuckle that just so happened to find your tragic predicament amusing: your mood as drenched as your clothes.
As you slowly glanced up trembling, not knowing if your shaking was from the water, shock, pure rage, or all three, you made direct eye contact with a certain boy musing at your tragedy. His eyes were overflowing with humor as he was leaning against a tree, his tanned legs crossed over each other. He seemed to be reading a book which he put down as he had found something better worth his attention. He gracefully stands up, a complete contrast from how you scrambled out of the pond, much to your annoyance.
âDid it hurt when you fell from heaven, angioletto mio?â He smirks.
âNott,â you scoffed. âSmall worldâŚor cruel fate,â you stand there, dripping wet, arms spread out like a martyr.
Of course you knew the insufferable Theodore Nott was Italian and often visited family here, but you didnât think youâd be subjected to his presence in such a big country, especially in the less populated countryside. It was truly just cruel fate that brought this spawn of satan before your eyes.
âI didnât know you were that desperate to see me,â Theodore cocks his head to the side, quite enjoying this arrangement. âRisking your life on a muggle vehicle zooming to my town.â
You roll your eyes, and if you were in a cartoon universe, trust that there would be steam coming out of your ears.
âTrust me Nott. I had no intention to run into a walking headache on my vacation.â
The insufferable git kept smiling, moving closer now, standing right in front of you so you could smell the usual dizzying scent of sandalwood and pine. Summer edition Theo had a hint of citrus mingled in with his intoxicatingly annoying scent.
âI already got you soaking wet, now you just have to get naked,â he laughed with the most disgustingly smug look on his face that you almost slapped off.
âAre you done?â You glared at him, ready to storm off and free yourself from the torment of his presence.
He shrugged, looking you over.
âNeed help drying off?â
âI need help out of this conversation.â
âOh stop, y/n, you can do better than that,â he grinned
You sigh very well aware you had no other option. You hold out your arms and shut your eyes waiting for his casting of the Hot Air Charm. Since you had resolved to live the simple muggle life for this vacation, your wand was locked in a vault at your hotel room.
Theo laughs, âAre you waiting for a kiss, principessa?â
You open your eyes, confused. âNo, Iâm waiting for you to dry me off like you said, idiot.â
He laughs again shrugging and says, âI donât carry my wand around my domain, thereâs no need.â
âThen, pray do tell me, Nott, what was your plan in helping me?â
He gives you the most shit-eating grin and grabs your hand, scaring you a bit, then begins pulling you up another grassy, verdant hill: one that isnât hiding a body of water behind it. You have the urge to resist, but just give in. The drop from your adrenaline-rush youâd been maintaining for the past 3 days had collapsed, causing you to come down with an attitude of resolve. He dragged you up the hill, your wet sandals making squelching sounds, each one demeaning you more and more. You hated this shift in power where the perfect git was overshadowing you. You hated it. You hated him. I think.
âSo why were you in the countryside? Other than wanting to see me so badly, of course.â He looks behind him and shoots his watercolor poison into your soul as he makes that unblinking eye contact. Another thing on the meter-long list of things you despise about him.
âI was in a self-deprecating mood and decided to ruin my record streak of relaxation by finding you,â you deadpanned as you rolled your eyes for extra affect.
âY/N relaxing? You must be lying.â
He chuckled a bit as you two stopped at the top of the vast hill, looking down to a meadow of wildflowers. They glowed like colorful jewels in the blinding, comforting summer sun.
âWhatâre you gonna do, push me off?â You smirked, half wishing heâd do so. Maybe this was all a nightmare. A beautiful, lush, tinged with the familiar scent of Theo nightmare.
What you didnât expect, however, was him saying:
âPrecisely.â
And with a surprisingly gentle tug, he pulled you down on the top of the hill, pushed you back in a laying position before you could protest, and quite literally pushed you down the hill. You screamed as you, for the second time that day, gave all free will up to gravity, rolling down the hill at a crazy speed. You knew Nott was your unproclaimed but painfully obvious nemesis but you never thought heâd attempt murder. You finally stopped and lay there, sprawled on your back, heaving from the rush. It was kind ofâŚfun?
Theo rolled down right next to you, laughing, as he sat upright. There was grass in his curly, brunette hair that you couldnât help but reach out to pluck. He looked away quite shyly. Did your eyes deceive you, or did he just blush? You must have heat stroke. Good thing you had your wet clothes to keep you cool: they were significantly drier now.
You stand up and Theo starts laughing in a way youâve never heard him laugh before. It was almostâŚendearing?
You put your hands on your hips teasingly and ask, âWhat? Do I have something on my face?â
He chuckles affectionately. âMio angioletto, you have somethingâŚeverywhere.â He bursts into laughter again. âBeware grass woman rising from the Italian hills,â he gasps through his fits of laughter.
You couldnât help but smile so wide; his happiness was almost as contagious as his teasing.
You look down and realize the grass was sticking all over your outfit, covering you in verdant greeness. There was an itching sensation bubbling to your skin, but you ignored it. You couldnât help but join in with his laughter as you could imagine you looked like green Chewbacca.
âIs this your sick way of tar and feathering me, Nott?â
He recovers from his laughter and stands up with you, peeling a wet blade of grass from your cheek.
âAlas, you have uncovered my motives,â he teases, grinning.
âWell, your actual motives didnât work. Iâm still sopping wet.â You wringe out the side of your shirt for dramatic affect as it produces a downpour of water.
âThereâs more to my motives, mio angioletto. If at first you donât succeed, try try again.â He grasps your hand again with a beautiful look on his glowing face and pulls you up to do it all over again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Until the sun is caressing the distant hills, getting ready for its nightly departure. The sky is painted shades of teal and purple; still bright but just so. The breeze is still gentle, and so is Theoâs hold on your hand, as he guides you back to his tree by the wretched pond.
Donât ask yourself what you and him were at the moment. Donât ask yourself how years of rivalry and pranks. Of stress related to the both of your never-relenting efforts to beat the other. Donât ask how that all faded away, as you sat in the setting sun.
Unfortunately, it isnât in your nature to just ignore logic. And Theo knew it. So he distanced himself from you in light of the passing moment of rolling down flower dotted hills, letting go of your hand. It was as if an igniting flame in your heart had been stifled. He sat across from you by the tree. A silence falling between you two.
The slight itching you had felt earlier had been slowly increasing, and as the fun fell away, it began grabbing your attention. The feeling was in your throat nowâŚsomething wasnât right. And thatâs when you remembered something that Theoâs warm presence had melted away from your mind. As if your brain had tricked itself to forget about this important fact to permit you and Theoâs fun. You were allergic to wildflowers. If exposed to them for a long time? Horribly allergic.
You started coughing and then choking, pointing to your neck to alert Theo to the problem. His eyes widened as he realized what was happeningâŚhe had noticed your uncharacteristically red skin, but he had dismissed it by thinking it was the sunâs doing. How could he overlook this?
Your choking grew louder as you fell onto the grass, Theo scrambled around crazily not knowing what to do in his initial panic.
But then he remembered
He pulled out his wand and cast a healing spell which would diminish every affect of an allergic reaction. You started being able to breathe again and your throat cleared, along with your skin returning to its original color and texture. You were gasping in shock, slightly embarrassed that you had been in such pathetic situations in front of Theodore twice today. You were both holding each othersâ arms and breathing deeply. You recovered slightly, attempting to lighten the tense mood.
âWell, if your true motive was to kill me, Nott, Iâd say you almost succeeded.â You let out a weak, unconvincing laugh.
âI..I am so sorry, y/n, I genuinely didnât know..â he looked crestfallen. More shaken than you in fact. Wait a minuteâŚ
âHold on,â you raised an eyebrow, your shock of almost dying completely gone and replaced with a new shock. âI thought you said you didnât have your wand?â
Theoâs eyes widened sheepishly and he grinned, looking as guilty as ever.
âOk listen before you throw a fit-â
âI donât throw fits, I diplomatically argue.â
âBefore you throw a tantrum, let me explain.â Theo runs his fingers through his hair looking nervous, and, for the first time, failing to make eye contact.
âI justâŚI knew youâd leave if I just dried you off. You only stayed because you needed help and, wellâŚâ he sighs.
âWell?â
âWell, Iâve been thinking about you all summer, y/n. I lay awake all night and I day dream all day. I swear I even saw you in the stars..â he gives a nervous, strained laugh.
âYou never leave my thoughts, but I was sure it was just because I had to prove myself. To beat you. But you didnât even leave my brain after school ended. You haunt me every day. When I saw you I thought I was hallucinating, like, genuinely.â He runs his hand through his hair, looking the most vulnerable heâs ever looked.
You look at him, eyes blazing with emotions you had denied yourself. Emotions that fought to be seen but you always pushed them back. You couldnât fight back anymore. What were you even fighting against? God, you had some serious issues.
âAnd so you lied to make me stay?â
Theo nodded, looking to the side, up at the darkening sky.
âMaybe it was the universe that brought me here, because what are the fucking odds?â
You both laughed at that, eyes shining despite the escaping light around you.
âTheo, in my last 3 days Iâve been in your beautiful home country, Iâve visited so many places. The Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Uffizi Galleries. So many amazing places, and Iâve experienced the most inspiring ordeals. But today was, by far, my favorite day.â
Theo regains his composure after hearing that, playfully judging her with his shoulder .
âBecause of me, hm?â
You roll your eyes, looking away.
âSay it, principessa..â he prompted, gently holding your face and focusing it towards him.
You dramatically sigh and admit, âYes, Theodore Nott. Because of you.â
He smiled the most breathtaking smile. If only you could capture a picture of it, but unfortunately your camera went down with the Vespa. You lay your head on his shoulder and squeeze your eyes shut, so that his bright smile could be engraved into your mind. Definitely a core memory.
After many moments of comfortable silence, Theo perks up.
âOh! By the way, dolcezza, I realized I said the pickup line wrong when you struggled out of the swamp.â
You rolled your eyes at his impertinence and said, âFirst of all, itâs a pond, Theo. And second of all I did NOT struggle. I emerged like Aphrodite in a shell.â
âOk my little swamp monster,â he annoyingly nuzzled his nose into your hair as you fought to hold back a giggle.
âOkok let me say the line.â
âGo ahead, Theo.â
âDid it hurt when you fell from heaven?â
You cocked an eyebrow at him.
âBecause you have the face of un angelo.â
He grinned his shit-eating grin as you pretended to retch at the line. Jumping up with the fireflies around you, you tagged Theo, reigniting that competitive streak you both so closely shared. You both laughed like maniacs as you raced up the hill again, fireflies dancing around you in a waltz.
#theodore nott x you#theodore nott fluff#slytherin boys#theodore nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott one shot#theodore nott x reader
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Two Steps Back. | Advanced Payment
logline; it's time to retrace your steps. both of you.
[!!!] series history, this is the thirteenth; nothing distresses me more than when i see people read this out of order PLEASE BABY PLEASE
Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettinâ added to. constant headache was actually in season 3? my brain. my power.
Or, maybe you'd like a playlist made especially for this chapter? Consider this my Fishes special.
portion; 17k new record again, please god tell me it gets shorter from here on i'm so. tired..
possible allergies; you will know exactly what trigger warnings you need upon reading seeing the first line. Also! I watched Season 3, and injected some lines from it into this, including the finale. I don't consider it full spoilers, because it's an entirely new context, but you might wanna catch up before you read this one!
pairing; Carmen âCarmyâ Berzatto & Fem Reader so excessively gendered, in this chapter. my bad.
it's my birthday so if you typically lurk legally you have to tell me your thoughts on this one! Also it's once again the new longest, so like. cmon.
âWhat are you, Amish?â
You blink, craning your head back to look up at this annoying giant. Youâre too tired for this shit. This is your one day off this week and youâre spending it fixing faulty lights with your dad, at some shit diner. Why did you agree to start coming on jobs? Whyâs this guy gotta bother you on your lunch break? Whatâs wrong with you not wanting to smoke? Pardon you for not wanting to kill yourself with tobaccoâ
âAh, no, Iâm just uhmââ You gesture your hand to your head. âI get migraines, kinda easy, so I canât, uhâ Canât indulge.â
He nods, he opts to stand next to you, while youâre sitting on the curb. At least the smoke will blow over your head, this way. You try to eat your lunch in peace. He does not let you have this moment of peace.
âJack, right?â He nudges your foot with his. âThatâs what your popâs calls you, at least?â
âYeah. Everyone calls me Jack.â You nod. Guess this is a conversation now, whether you want it or not. âYouâre Mikey? The owner?â
âThe Original Chicago Beef, in the flesh.â He nods, and he says it like heâs proud but he doesnât look it. He leers at your partially consumed tin foil wrapped sandwich. âYou bring your own lunch?â
You shrug. âUh, yeah, grilled cheese with porkââÂ
âWhy would youââ The door to the kitchen swings open, as Mikey grimaces. You both turn your heads to see another guy come outâ Oh itâs that one, the one that cannot stop talking about his divorceâ Mikey consults him. âYo, Rich, do I look like some jamoke, to you? Just wonderinâ.â
Rich, tilts his head, and his legs follow after him, âNo, cousin, whatssup?â He takes the cigarette from Mikey, when itâs offered up.
âWell, our little fixer friend hereââ Mikey nudges you, again. ââseems to think me a fuckinâ ass.â
Now when did you say anything like that? âWhaââ
âStop making lunches, Iâve been watching you come in here with your little lunch pail the past few jobs, you eat free âere, aright? Youâre workinâ.â Doesnât matter what you said. Mikey sees you. Mikeyâs always seen you.Â
âworkinââ is a bit generous. The most you do is hand your dad tools, hold a flashlight, and ask too many questions. You definitely could do more, but he knows you're too tired. He really just wants to spend time with you. You pretend to not know his ulterior motives.
âWeâre gentlemen here, sweetheart.â Rich bends down, so you can see him past Mikeyâs frame, at your level. He reaches a hand out for you to shake. âRichie. Jerimovich.â
Youâre not gonna remember that. You take his hand and shake it. âJack. Itâsâ Iâm just Jack.â
Youâve only got one hand on your sandwich, to shake Richieâs hand. So, like a school bully, Michael takes your loosened grip as his opportunity to grab it from you. âYoinkâ!â
You whine, âCâmonââ âLet me make you a real fuckinâ sandwich, sweetheartââ âIâd just like my sandwich, alright?â âOh, itâll be your sandwich, alright? You think I donât make good sandwiches? Richie, she doesnât think I make good sandwiches.â
âFuckinâ insane, cousin.â
You attempt to defend yourself from the peanut gallery of one guy. âNot what I said!â
âWhy do you keep bringing lunch, then?â
Because itâs easy? Because itâs orderly? Because youâve been in a full state of autopilot for the last threeish years and every day youâve eaten the same breakfast and made the same lunch and then you go on your shift and then someone nearly dies and sobs in your arms and then you sit on the edge of the ambulance and you eat your grilled cheese and pork? Because if you break the routine itâs all gonna hit?
âI just like making my own lunch.â
âWell, stop. Youâre breaking my heart.â Michael takes a bite of your sandwich. You click your teeth. Germs. Youâre going to chastise him, but he doesnât let you. âYou like pork more than beef?â
âI think beef is fine.â
âNot what I asked.â
You take too long to respond, meaning the lie wonât be believable, so you have to tell the truth. You have to tell The Original Chicago Beef thatâ âI⌠I like pork more.â
âHow dare youââ Barks Richie, the guard dog, apparently. Mikey stops him, putting a hand up.
âNo, no, I asked the lady a question. Sheâs wrong but I asked. Fairâs fair. We express our fury like gentlemen, Cousin.â He nods, to himself. Thinking. About what is beyond you. God, so much for a lunch break. You point to your sandwich in his hand.
âCan I have that backââ âNo. Iâm makinâ you a goddamn real sandwich.â
You all but growl, really. You start to stand up. God, this guy is pushy. âI just said, I preferââ
Mikeyâs already making his way back into the kitchen, with the last half of your lunch as hostage. âOh, Iâll make you a fuckinâ pork sandwich, aright?â
Mikeyâs guard dog stamps out the butt of the shared cigarette, walking backwards into the kitchen, following Mikey but watching you. âHeâs gonna make you fuckinâ pork, aright?â
âAright!â Is all you can yell back, at your wits with the two dumbest most stubborn middle-aged geezers youâve ever met.
Richie holds the door open for you, so you donât get locked out. Alright, maybe he is a gentleman. You hear Mikeyâs voice ring, from inside the kitchen. âAnd if youâre not doinâ nothinâ for your dad, try to fix the fuckinâ coffee machine, would you?â
This fucking guy.Â
You have waved at him a couple times, here and there, while helping out your dad. But now, youâve officially had Michael Bear Berzatto in your life for a solid ten minutes. Doesnât feel like it.
Carmen Anthony Bear Berzatto has officially not had you in his life for ten minutes. Doesnât feel like it. Feels like youâve been gone for years. But youâre probably still just outside, talking to Richie and Syd. How is it still Friday? What time is it? Almost six? Theyâve still got four fucking hours of service to go? No, thatâs a good thing. This is a good thing. Doesnât give him time to think. Everyone needs to stop staring at him.Â
What a fucking monster. What did he even say? He canât remember anymore. He remembered ten minutes ago, and now itâs gone. Completely walled off in his memory. What did he say? Why did you make that face? What did he say to Richie, again? Why did you step in front of him? What did you say, again? What did Richie say? What happened? He canât remember. He knows he did something fucked up but Carmen cannot remember what happened twenty minutes ago. Thatâs bad, right?
âI need hands!â Carmen does not recognize the fact that heâs working until he hears his own voice.
Right. Heâs on expo. Heâs doing expo. Thatâs what was happening twenty minutes ago, he thinks. Thatâs what was happening, right? Doesnât matter. This is what heâs doing now. Fak comes back in and takes the tray to run. He looks around for a moment, confused.Â
âWhereâs Tony?â
âSheâs gone.â
Fak pauses. You donât leave, that doesnât match up in his brain. It doesnât really match up in Carmenâs either, but this is whatâs happening now. âWhatâdâyou mean sheâs gone?â
âI mean sheâs fucking gone, Fak.â Carmen barks back, practically. Such a fucking monster. Could Fak tell him what he said? Doesnât matter. Carmen nods to the plate. âTable twenty-five, go.â
â...Whereâd she goââ âFucking go, Fak!â
There is a loud, thrumming buzz. The type that goes off after a game. Or maybe after a wrong answer. Expo clock. Since when did it have a sound setting? The kitchen flinches, including Carmen, including a meek-made Neil, and look to the clock behind them.Â
Time has stopped. 0ERR is all it displays now. The sign âEVERY SECOND COUNTSâ is real ironic, now. What the fuck happened? You would know. Youâre still outside, Carmen could get you. Carmen could get you and say heâs sorry for whatever happened. The back of his head feels like itâs hemorrhaging. He needs to go to a doctor. Maybe a paramedic. Carmen could get you, ask you what he said, and also ask if he is actively dying, right now.
âFak.âÂ
âCarm?â
âTable twenty-five.â Carmen points at the plate again, with his sharpie. Then points behind him, to the broken clock. âThen fix that.âÂ
âWhy not call Toââ âDo you want a fucking job here or not?â âIâI doââ âThen do your fucking job, Fak.â
Carmen doesnât need you. The Bear doesnât need you. They can function just fine. Everythingâs fine, without you. Everythingâs normal. Everything is the way that it should be. He is shaking so muchâ When did he eat? Has he eaten? What the fuck is wrong with him? What happened twenty minutes ago? Or was it twenty-five? No. Thatâs table twenty-five, heâs mixing up his numbers. What time is it? He doesnât know. The whole kitchen doesnât know what time it is, anymore. You are gone and so are the minutes.Â
Fak leaves, with the plate. Shrunken. Following orders. Carmen just turns everyone into himself, doesnât he? What a fucking monster. He knows how bad it is to be him, and yet he still does it. Look at the orders, Carmen. Run fucking expo. So fucking slow, Carmen. Look at the orders.Â
The crumpled piece of paper you handed him twenty minutesâ Thirty? Fuck. The fucking note you handed him some amount of time ago. It sits on his table, next to all the actual orders. He rereads it, instead of the five cavatellis heâs supposed to be yelling about, right now.
Walk-In Hotfix, $80
Plumbing Repair (Service + 4 Hours), $250
Oven Wiring Fix (House call), $70
Oven Hotfix + Replacement Thermocouple, $120
Non-Gratis: Pinot Grigio, -$20
Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. -$2,500
You forgot the booths. And taxes. And you should probably get paid a half day, for serving for the past half hour. You also forgot all the times he called you, texted you, came over, the bookshelf you brought him, the basil, the rosemary water, cleaning up his trash, every time you tried food for him, every time you told him everything was going to be okay, every time you made everyone breath in here like it was going to be okayâ You forgot everything you do. Priceless. Easily, you are owed millions, from Carmen.Â
He flips over the note. He reads Sweepsâ quick scribings from David, the fucking asshole out front, the fucking asshole in his head.Â
Cherry + Lamb, good flavour. A lot of elements. Fresh, Unique. Overall good? Ig? Weird tone.
Said heâd like to speak to âWine Girlâ (ick), mentioned Michelin connect? Number = Connect? (Ick)
You didnât eat the cherry and lamb dish. That just connected, in his head. You didnât get to eat it. Not only did you not get to eat it, the motherfucker outside did. Fuck. You were trying to be nice, but youâve fucked him. Unique is practically a slur to his Exec. Carmen has fun when he makes things for youâ He playsâ Thatâs not what his Exec wants. He wants two elements, max. The fact that David actually liked the flavour is nothing short of a fucking miracle. Carmen could throw up. Heâs definitely getting an ulcer, again. Whereâs your Tums? Fuck, you took it with you, didnât you?Â
Itâs embarrassing how many rules he forgets to implement, when he cooks for you. Boundless, unrestrictedâ When he cooks for you. Doesn't cut a single concept. Itâs mortifying that someone other than you ate it, let alone David fucking Fields.
Carmenâs eyes feather, almost closing, but not completely. He scratches his fingers through his hair, destroying the cast of gel itâs been stuck in. His curls are desperately trying and failing to reform. It doesnât matter how much he runs his hands through it, he cannot get it to smell like you again. He cannot find you in himself, he cannot find you in his kitchen. Thatâs what annoyed him, earlier, wasnât it? That you were everywhere? That you were carved in, everywhere? He thought he didnât want that?
His knees bounce where he stands, he bumps into his jacket under the table. Right. You left it. Are you cold? Turtleneck was thin. You looked so good. You always look good. Better, in his clothes, but you always look good. Did he remember to tell you that? Probably not.
âWhereââ Fuck, he really is going to throw up. âWhere we at on Booth Twelveâs dessert tray, Chef?â
You said it was okay for Carmen to give your number out. You gave your dish out. You shelled yourself out, for Carmen. It feels like a cave is being hollowed out, in his throat. He is so angry and he doesnât know who itâs for. He doesnât know where to put it. Is that what happened twenty-threeâ twenty-four minutes ago? Did he give it to you? No, he gave it to Richie, right? Thatâs how it started. Marcus hands off the dessert paddle to expo, silently. No one wants to talk to Carmen. Thatâs probably fair. What did he say? Probably bad. Itâs already huge they havenât walked out on him, yet. Has anyone walked out, yet?
Marcus is here, Syd is still out backâ Well, actually, she mightâve left with you, she should if she can. Are you still out there? Tina wipes her eyes, working at the oven you fixed thirtyâ No, fortyâ Fuckâ Earlier. Itâs probably the onions from the broth making her tear up. No, it definitely is. Fak is out front, Sweeps is out front, Richie is still out back.
What did he say to Richie? Something about kids? There are no servers to hand off dessert to stupid fucking booth twelve. Carmen cannot keep looking at the family heâs ruined, in whatever way he managed to ruin it. He grabs the dessert tray. Heâll deliver it himself. He can do it all himself. Heâs good by himself.
Youâve been out of Carmenâs life for 0ERR minutes. Yeah. Thatâs exactly how long it feels like.
âTry it try it try it.â You mumble, hurriedly, excitedly, to Marcus. The bread guy. Heâs the nicest of the bunch, so far. You hand him the mug. He takes a sip of the coffee youâve been perfecting for the last six jobs here, give or take. Youâve been in The Beefâs life for two months or so.
âHoly shit.â He nods, digesting itâ Actually digesting it, which meansâ âItâs edible.â
âI know!â You all but shout, too excited to hide it. Youâve finally figured out how to make this thing produce what itâs supposed toâ Instead of what is essentially arsenic with coffee flavouring.
Your excitement makes a line cook behind you grimace. The one youâve still got yet to win over. âMy ears, kid.â
âSorry.â You reply lightly. Your back is turned to her, so she canât see you cringe to Marcus, crying for help, practically. Heâs sympathetic. He kept saying you just need to prove yourself, but itâs been taking forever, what else can you prove?
He decides to fast track you. âYo, T.â She nods. She respects Marcus. But youâre just some girl thatâs been in her walkway for the past seven weeks. âTry it.â He hands her your edible coffee.
She rolls her eyes, already nonplussed, but she takes the coffee. She is genuinely impressed, for a split second, before it turns into a coy sarcasm. âWowâ Youâve made not poison, great job, baby.â
âIâm gonna get better.â You respond instantly. Thatâs something you noticed Tina likes. Quickness. âIâm gonna make you a good coffee.â Determination, too.
âBold.â
âThank youââ
âNo.â She pushes the coffee to your chest; you grab it before it spills. âI like it bold.â
God, sheâs so scary. âHeard.â Sheâs so cool.Â
She watches you, for a second; wants to see if you crack. You donât, thankfully. She folds. She finally kinda likes youâ Or rather, is willing to admit it, in some small way. âYou can come tonight.â
You can come to family, tonight. It takes everything in you not to cheer. You should mix them drinks. Or is that too try hard? No, itâs the perfect amount of tryâ Right? It was your old party trick in college, you should use it. Prove yourself.
âCool.â Is all you can say, without seeming like a desperate nerd.Â
You've been slowly cutting away at every relationship in your life, par for your familyâ And even that hangs by a threadâ And you thought you were fine with that. You thought you were good like that, but once you got used to The Weirdos of The Beef, you cannot help but desperately want friends, again.
Every moment you get outside of your twelve to twenty-four hour EMS shifts, you spend it here. Youâre tired, but it might actually be worth it; to talk to people instead of rotting in your apartment for half a week every week.
What month is it? March? When's Squid's birthday again? Did you miss it? It's the one time a year you get to talk without the underlying pressure that you have to hang out now.
Happy Birthday, what have you been up to? Oh, same thing as last year? You're irrevocably a different person now but you're also still the same? Nothing much? Same here. We should see each other soon. We won't. I won't say I love you because I don't want to be weird. Even though we used to say it every day. I will never know you like I used to, and so I won't even try. Same time next year?
Working in The Beef reminds you of her. Reminds you of the other stubborn cook in your life. Was in your life? Donât think about that. Sometimes you hear her dad's voice out front, buying himself a half-hot half-sweet braised beef sandwich. Sometimes you think about going out there and saying hi. Sometimes you think about asking about Syd. Sometimes you think about asking how the catering gig is going. Sometimes you think about asking if she needs you anymore.
You never do.
âAye.â Mikey claps your shoulders, bringing you back to earth. You didn't even realize he was behind you. He digs his hands in, a sudden and always painful massage. His preferred way of saying stop fucking tweaking. He leans over your shoulder, looking at the coffee cup that doesn't look as pitiful as it usually does. âGood job, kid.â
âThank youââ âNow figure out how to make it worth drinking.â
You scoff, rolling your shoulders to push him off you. âI'm fuckinâ trying!âÂ
His hands stay in place, but his massage does become gentle, and actually decent. Per usual. Youâre not sure how he always manages to get the knots. âT say you can come to family?âÂ
You had to get all yeses that you are now in fact family to join for family. You look over your shoulder to face him. âMhm.âÂ
âGood.â He looks around. âYour dad here?âÂ
You nod. âIn the basement, something about your furnace? It's fucking beyond my skill set, so I'm up here until he needs me.â As much as your dad started doing this to hang out with you, heads got too hot with you fucking up which tools to hand him one too many times; repeatedly yelling same team in a more and more distressed tone did not seem to be helping either. Whatever. Gave you more time with the coffee machine. Youâre going to make this thing your bitch, one day. One day this thing is going to sing for you.
âOh, good.â And with that, he's already pulling you to his station. âYou can help me with family brisket, then.âÂ
âNoooooââ âIf you want family you gotta be family, Jack.âÂ
You whine, but you don't mind this at all. Mikey sees you. Mikey knows you; probably better than he should. He knows you always need something to do.
âPork?â âPork.â âFine.â It's your recipe, so you must oblige.
He's good. Mikey is good. Mikey pays attention. Mikey's made the cycle break in a way that doesn't hurt.
Carmen needs to apologize to Richie, for never taking his stress over running front of house seriously.
Carmen hates being out front already and heâs only just stepped out. Why is everyone looking at him out here, too? He should also apologize for whatever he said forty minutes ago. Thirty-five? Doesnât matter. Whatâs important is handing this dessert tray to the fucking jagoff. The man who Carmen dreamed of becoming, the man who heâs now scared heâs become. David Fields. Former Executive Chef. Too many accolades to list.Â
âDessert is served, hope you enjoy, Chef.â Carmen manages to bite his tongue for this guy, so why canât he do it for the people he actually gives a fuck about? Heâs a fucking coward. He swallows, setting the dessert paddle down in front of the stupid five fucking guests. Far too big a party, for a fucking walk in. And all they got for dessert was the fucking tasting paddle? Why are they skimping now? Assholes. All of them. Carmen knows all of these people. Well. Knows their faces. Remembers working with them, but never really talked to any of them. Why would he? He was focused. He was good.
âThank you, Chef.â Says David. It feels like lightning, to hear those words. But not in a good way. It should feel like an accomplishment, to hear this guy say anything remotely positive, to Carmen, but it doesnât. It feels the opposite, honestly. Feels like somethingâs wrong. Getting this guyâs approval is wrong.
This is the part where Carmen is supposed to leave. This is the part where the server goes back to the kitchen and continues their job. But he canât. Heâs stuck in place. Heâs back in front of the fire, and heâs not putting it out. Carmen swallows hard and his spit feels like glass all the way down his throat. His Exec stares at him, nearly coyâ Like he knows. Like he can see the invisible snake coiling around Carmen. Like he knows that Carmen desperately has something to say.Â
âLetâs have it, Chef.â David goads.
Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck it. Not like the night can get worse. âCan we step out, for a second, Chef?â
âLookit this.â Mikey pivots his phone to you, for you to see a photo he's just been sent.
It's of⌠âWhat the fuck is that?â You've got no clue. Some weird spiralling array of colours.Â
âI've no fucking clue. Food? Apparently?â
It's April, and Mikey has let you in. You will not realize how big a deal this is until it's too late. But right now, you're just happy to be hanging out with him before open. Without your dad, too.
Their most frequent regularâs favourite chair broke, one of the legs just fully gave out underneath him. It's an easy fix. Mikey could probably do it himself. Fak or whatever the fuck his name is could absolutely do it himself. Mikey called you, instead. Called you. Not your dad. You think this'll be your first and last solo job. Naive.
âCarmy?â You assume, he's the only person that's on that rich people shit. Michelin Star Chef, baby boy with big dreams.
âYessir. Heâs still killinâ it.â Is all Mikey says, tucking his phone away. You frown at him, screwing the chair leg in, sitting on the floor. He groans. âDon't gimme those eyes, Jack.â
âYou should reply!â
âHe doesn't need a fuckin' reply.âÂ
You tilt your head, the look you give him translates to âAre you forreal?â
He just sighs, exasperated. âYou don't get brothers, Jack.â
âI literally have brothers, Michael.â
âYeah but it'sââ He gestures to the general air, attempting to explain nothing. âIt's different. We communicate different.â
âSure.â You can admit that. âI'm sure the dynamic is very different brother to brother, brother to sister. But likeââ You jiggle the chair leg, alright maybe it's not that easy of a fix. âIt sucks beinâ the baby, I know that much.â
âYou're the baby?â
âYeah, why?â You lift your head from the chair back to him. âI got middle child energy? Iâll fuckinâ kill you.âÂ
âNo, noâ Oldest.â He takes a sip of his coffee. âThought you were one of me, Jack. My own blood.â
You scoff. But itâs not something you havenât heard before. Youâve got the blood of people whoâve had to take care of people. âWell, being the only sister kinda made me the oldest sister.â
You pad your hand around the floor, searching, before looking up to Michael, again. âYou see the fuckinâ?â
He tosses you the chair leg cap, before you can finish asking for it. âYouâd like Nat. Similar ideologies.â
âI would love to know how your younger sister fuckinâ survived you, thatâs for sure.â
He laughs, at that. âSheâs a trooper. Surrounded by some of the worst men Chicago has to offer.â He looks at the coffee that you painstakingly crafted for him, this morning. âThis is actually kinda fuckinâ good, Jack.â
âDo you have to add actually and kinda?â
He rolls his head back, neck straining. âFor what you had, itâs fuckinâ perfection, alright? Happy?â
âFuckinâ delighted.â You throw the chair up onto its legs, and it stands. âYou?â
He gets up from his seat to try out the chair. He takes the coffee with him. Thereâs a split second where youâre scared that actually this was too hard a job for you and Mikey is going to fall and the hot coffee is going to careen everywhere and fucking scald him and you told him he needed to get a first-aid kit in here but he hasnât gotten around to it yetâ
Mikey sits, and the chair works. He takes another sip of your chai coffee blend, like a vote of his confidence. He never had any doubt you could get the coffee machine to work, never had any doubt you could make a good coffee, never had any doubt you could get the chair to stand strong. Mikey has always always believed in your capabilities, even when you havenât, and has always been happy to prove yourself to yourself. Mikey is really good at being an older brother, you think. And forget that he never texted back the real baby of his real family.
âFuckinâ delighted, Jackie.â
âNever fuckinâ call me Jackie.â
âHeard.â
Two executive chefs stand in front of a restaurant, thereâs probably a joke in here somewhere. Carmen doesnât care to find it. He watches your car drive out onto the road, out of the corner of his eye. Thatâs it, then. Youâre gone. He fishes a pack of cigarettes out from the chest pocket of his chefâs uniform.Â
âYou should quit.â Says David, so high and fucking mighty. As if he doesnât house a bottle of wine daily.
âIâm aware.â Carmen lights it anyways. You donât smoke. Did his mouth taste bad, every time heâd kiss you? Probably. You probably just bore it for his sake. Maybe thatâs why you so rarely went for his lips. He takes a puff, it doesnât calm him down.Â
âYour hair is fucked.âÂ
âAnd the food?â
âBusy. You can lose the basil and eggplant. Youâll re-learn.â David tilts his head, thinking, smarmy. âSomeone got in your head.â
âSomeone other than you, yeah.â
âAwe.â David smiles, something he so rarely did in the kitchen, but perfected in public. His tone is so perfectly pouty, like itâs disappointing heâs not the only one living rent free in Carmenâs brain anymore.
Carmen steadies his eyes forward, to the street. He cannot look his own personal nightmare in the eyes, but he can say what heâs always wanted to say. âWhy are you such a fucking asshole?â
âHow am I an asshole?â âCan you stay âtil after close?â âYouâre welcome.â
Carmen turns his head to face him now, eyes wide like plates. âIâ Iâm welcome? ForâFor-for what?â
âYou were an okay chef, when you started with me.â David doesnât fear eye contact. Davidâs probably never had a bad day in his fucking life. âAnd you left an excellent chef, so youâre welcome.â
Carmenâs never even heard the fucking word excellent come out of this manâs mouth. Let alone to describe him. It doesnât feel good, for some reason. It still doesnât feel good to receive praise from him, despite the fact that heâs everything.Â
âYouâŚâ Carmen needs a second, to catch his breath. He probably should quit smoking. âYou gave me ulcers, and panic attacks, andâ and nightmaresâ Youâ You know that? You understand that?â
âYeah.â Davidâs entirely unfazed. All heâs heard is a list of benefits, in his head. âI gave you confidence and leadership and abilityâ It fucking worked.â
Is this what it working is supposed to feel like? Is this what it feels like to function? Is this what it means, to make it? If it is, then what the fuck does not making it feel like?
âIâmâ Iâm, Iâmâ Iâm actually fuckinâ stunned, right now, Iââ Carmen rubs his hands over his eyes. âMy life stopped.â
âThatâs the point.â
âThatâs the point?â
âYou wanted to be excellent. You got rid of all the bullshit, you concentrated, you focusedâ And you got excellent. And it worked. Youâre here.â
Youâre not bullshit. Youâre not bullshit and he shouldnât have done whatever he did to make you leave. Carmen is anything but excellent, without the people behind him, and heâs realizing that now. Heâs an idiot, because you told him this, the second day of knowing him you told him this. He has a wonderful teamâ A familyâ A family he now considers you a part of. And he tanked all of it, everyoneâ Why? Because he had a bad fucking day? Because a dish got sent back? Because he fucked up tremendously? Boo-fucking-hoo, Carmen. It takes an idiot like David, who thinks heâs a genius, for Carmen to realize they look exactly the fucking sameâ And that is the actual thing thatâs mortifying, tonight.
The real mortifying thing, isnât that you were so fucking sweet and considerate of his stupid fucking brain and his stupid insane aspirationsâ It isnât your dish. The mortifying thing is he prioritized the man in front of him, in any regard. Itâs mortifying that Carmen made you feel like you had to prioritize the man in front of him.
âI justâ I just made theâThe only fuckinâ good thing in my life leave becauseâ Because you got in my fucking head.â
David just raises his brows, like Carmenâs fucking stupid. Like thereâs not a problem here. Because to him, there isnât. And once again, the stupid fucking Exec repeats. âYouâre welcome?â
âIâmââ The door opens, and for a moment, despite the fact that he watched your car disappear minutes ago, Carmen still thinks thereâs a chance itâs gonna be you; begs a higher power that itâs going to be you. Itâs not. Itâs Richie.Â
âHey assholeââ Richie stops, when he sees David. âAh. Youâre needed, Chef Carmen.â
âCousinâ Youâre needed, pronto.âÂ
âNot your Cousin.â
âHeard and resented.â
Richieâs had a habit of calling you cousin, lately. You pull your head out of the back of the Ball-Breaker arcade machine. Its controls are allegedly on the fritz, but youâre pretty sure Chi-Chi just sucks at this game. âWhaddya need? Do I have to run front a-fucking-gain?â
That was a fun out of nowhere three hour shift with zero restaurant experienceâ Par for bar. It will not be the last.
âNonoâ Just a cuppa coffee? More like six.âÂ
You kiss your teeth, tutting him. âYou know how the fuckinâ machine worksââ
âWant your coffee?â He corrects, like stroking your ego will make you fold. It does. You stand up, stretching your legs. Â
âFine. Just get me a list of everyoneâsââ He slaps a folded note against your forehead. âOrders.âÂ
âFucker.â You take it off your head to read. âWhatta âbout Mikeyâs?â Heâs missing from the list.
Richie shrugs. âSurprise him, heâs out backâ In one of his moods.â
You donât know how uncommon it is for Mikey to be so out of it. Youâre meeting Mikey during his slow but certain downward spiral, but you donât know that. No. How could you? No, so you think itâs normal for Mikey to occasionally leave rooms and turn inward.Â
âAye aye, Rich.â
He kisses your temple as you pass him, making an all too aggressive âmuahâ noise, because thatâs what fake Italians do, as a form of thanks, and lets you go work your magic on the coffee machine.Â
Youâre pretty integrated into The Beef, at this point. How long has it been? You donât really need this list of orders, but itâs good to visually ingrain in your brain. Youâre thankful to Mikey for investing in a bunch of Toraniâs syrups for your coffee dreams. Youâre here enough for it to be worth it, anyways.Â
Youâre probably gonna start being here a lot more, soon. Well, maybe.
You havenât told anyone yet, about what your dad told you this morning. That heâs gotta retire, soon. Like soon, soon. Now, youâre faced with a decisionâ Keep going with this EMS thing until your body fails and you need to be wheeled out by your own coworkers, or take on ownership of a small family business directly after the fucking pandemic. Really good options, here.
Youâre leaning towards the latter, at the moment. Youâre leaning towards being called here, for half your jobs. Itâd be hard to make ends meet on just whatever crack change Mikey is able to pay youâ But you used to bartend in collegeâ You could work dailies whenever youâre short. Probably. It probably wonât be that hard. Could it be harder than what youâre doing now? Could it be harder than watching someone flat line? Probably not.
Ebra, watered down black coffee. T, two sugars, one milk, cinnamon and chocolate syrup. Marcus, spiced coffee. Sweeps, water in a deli cupâ A delicacy. Richie, two sugars, cinnamon syrup, ideally boiling hot.Â
But to be fair, people need someone like you. People need paramedics. Is it selfish for you to decide you canât handle it anymore? Should you let your body break before you let yourself go on one? Fuck. Fuck. Whereâs Mikey? Youâre feeling the knots build up again.Â
Out back. Richie said heâs out back. You pick up your coffee, and Mikeyâsâ cinnamon and caramel, this timeâ And head out back.Â
And you see a sight that youâve actually seen plenty of times.
Youâve just never seen it in the back alley of The Beef. Youâve just never seen it happen to a friend. Youâve just never seen it happen to Mikey. You donât drop your coffee cups in some sort of dramatic shock, or anything like that. Because that would take time. Itâd take too much time to be shocked. You just turn around, immediately, partially crashing into the door as you run back in, breaking the mugs and spilling scalding hot coffee over your hands and chestâ You donât feel it, you donât give a fuck.Â
âCousin!âÂ
Youâre a mom friend. Thatâs what Syd used to say. You carry Tums, painkillers, cough drops, peptoâ All in your purse or pockets. You keep a lighter on hand. You keep safety pinsâ All ranging in size, just in case of a clothing mishap. You keep kidâs band-aids in your wallet. Youâre a mom friend. Everyone used to find you also carrying a naloxone kit a bit dramatic, like you were overdoing it. You always hoped they were right; that it would never be used. Regardless, you'd always replace it when it expired.
âCousin get my fucking bag, now!â
âRight.â Carmenâs honestly kind of surprised, to be needed. But itâs probably just cover, to talk. People donât typically need people like him, especially not Richie. He nods to David. âChef.â
âChef.â David nods back. He looks at Richie. âWhereâd your translator go?â
The fuck? Richie does not look phased, at all. He also looks like heâs been cryingâ So it might just be that nothing phases him, right nowâ But at the very least, Carmen would expect some surprise. So this disrespect must not be new. Why didnât he tell him?
Maybe he did, actually. Maybe thatâs what happened forty minutes ago? Howâd that lead to you leaving?Â
âMy what?â Richie knows exactly what Davidâs getting at, but he asks anyways, to embarrass the fucker.
But David doesnât feel embarrassment, itâs just not in him. âYour somme.â
âShe had to leave early.â
âAh,â He nods, âYouâve got her number, by chance?â
A deep and sharp exhale, through Richieâs nose, as he desperately tries to be a good host. Tries to be star material. But he runs his tongue across his top teeth and he just canât bring himself to bite it. Richie hates both of the men in front of him right now. âI do, I do, actuallyâ Iâve had her number for three years, memorized, yâknow why?â
David shrugs, delighted to upset someone. âShe your wife or something?â
A sharp, terrifying chuckle, honestlyâ One that hides any sign of a smile. Rich steps forward. âOh, I should be so lucky. I would be so fucking lucky, if a woman like thatââ And he pivots his head, to speak very deliberately, to Carmen. âDecided for some Godforsaken fuckinâ reason, that I was worth an ounce of her precious timeâ Let alone her hand.â
âIf only, truly, David.â Still looking at Carmen, squarely in his face. âIf fuckinâ only. If I had someone like thatâ Iâd be on hand and fucking knee, for her.â
âChef.â Carmenâs talking to David but looking at Richie, but that might also be because he canât look anywhere else.Â
âChef.â David shrugs, whatever fight here is beyond him. He doesnât fucking care. Carmen knows the Michelin thing was bullshitâCertainly David can put in a good word, but inspectors are anonymous, thatâs the whole point. But his stupid fucking Exec wanted to see if Carmen would stoop so low as to take the bait. It also wouldnât hurt to get your number, youâre perfect. Carmen doesnât think heâd have taken the bait, but the fact that heâs not sure speaks volumes.
David steps back into The Bear, and an Executive Chef and his dead brotherâs best friend stand outside their restaurant. Thereâs a joke in here somewhere, and itâs probably Carmen.
âIâd fucking kill him.â You shake your head, when Mikey tries to brush off the end of his story like itâs no big deal. âI canât believe no one fuckinâ said anything.â
âThey mightâve.â He sniffs, arms crossedâ Guarding himself. He sits opposite of you, both sitting on the floor of his office, backs against either wall. âBut I couldnât fuckinâ hear anything but himâ And then the fucking car, obviously.â
You can tell heâs trying to move on. He wants you to ask if his mom was okay. You donât honestly care, and you donât care if that makes you a bad person, either.Â
âYouâre not nothing, Mikey.â
Itâs close to midnight, a humid but cool August midnight. A week or so, since Mikeyâs overdose. Youâre finally christening your jumpsuit with a patch from The Beef, on the left shoulder. You do keep stabbing yourself with the sewing needleâ If you were sleeping beauty youâd be fucking dead.Â
âI know.â
âMikey, youâre not.â
âDonât fucking Good Will Hunting me.â
âYeah, thatâs fair.â You both laugh, but youâre still stuck with him, at that dining table, in your head. Youâre still hearing Uncle Lee screaming, despite never actually hearing it. âThey shouldâve said something.â
âItâs different when youâre there.â He shrugs, again. âHard to speak in those rooms.âÂ
Your lips stay tight, for a moment. Thereâs a long silence of just staring at each other, because you want him to know that youâre completely serious when you sayâ âI wouldâve said something.â
âSug tried to say somethinââ âShe told you to stop, thatâs bullshit.â âShe was mediatingââ
âAnd why the fuck were you the one that needed to calm down, exactly?â You frown, deeply. You donât have anything against Sug, but this story just rubs you the wrong way. The way no one was on his side verbally. âJust cause youâre the guy, means you canât stick up for yourself? I hate that shit.â
He thinks on that, for a moment; because no one has ever said the thing out loud, never acknowledged it. He nods, tucking one knee up to rest an arm on it. âIt sucks, being the guy.â
âIt fucking sucks to be the guy!â You shout back, emphatic, practically jumping to agreeâ You jab yourself again. âFuck, owâ Yes, it sucks.â
âAndââ Youâve really opened a faucet for him. âAnd no one wants you to acknowledge that youâre the guyâ Like you can take the compliment, but you can never say âI know, Iâm doing it on purpose.ââ
You poke at the tip of your nose with one hand and then to Mikey with the other, bang on. âNo one wants the guy to know theyâre the guy!â
âWe always know!â âWe always fucking know!â âWeâre the guy on purpose!â
Itâs rare for people like you two to talk and actually get along. The typical stereotype is that two sweethearts will always end up butting heads, too intimidatedâ But instead, youâre both just able to honestly commiserate over being who you are. The Guy. The Dependable One. The Head.
âYou shouldnât have to always be good andâand like, understanding of every single fucking personâ Especially when theyâre a dick!â You yell, exasperated. âYou are allowed to fucking stick up for yourself!â
He tightens his lips in a line, because he agrees, but he has been so trained to lay down and take it. To take the teeth; itâs one of the many many jobs of being the guy. You know it just as well. He sighs, âI know.â
âYouâre worth standing up for, Mikey.â You emphasize. They shouldâve said something. It shouldnât have been on you. You shouldnât have had to defend yourself. They shouldâve protected you, like you did for them. Like you always do for them.Â
His eyes flicker, a bit. He clears his throat and punches his chest, shaking his head out of it, because if he doesnât, he might actually fucking cry, and thatâs not what the guy does. âOkay.â
You nod. âOkay.â
He kicks your foot with his. âNow tell me some fucked up thing that happened to you, Jack.â
You laugh, and it quickly turns into a groan as you try to come up with something. âI uh⌠Oh! I fuckinâ hate the nickname âJackâ, thatâs something.â
âOh?â He leans forward, teasingly intriguedâ Youâve thrown him a bone, because youâre the guy, too. Heâs able to focus on this in lieu of himself.
You nod and continue. âMy dad gave it to me, when I was really really little, like five or sixâ And it was âcause I likeâ For a kid, I was really into uhm, likeâ Like everything?â
âLike a nerd?â âLike a nerd.â
You chuckle. âI liked helping him go on jobs, and barely being able to hold flashlights. And I liked learning what all the wires and the pipes doâ I liked doing chores and likeâ Making shit for people, or doing shit for people, if it made âem happy.â Youâre a little too zoned in, on your sewing. The motion helps keep you grounded. âAnd so he would go like Awe, my helpful little Jack of all Trades, you can do it all.â
You pull the string up and out of the fabric, taught, dramatically high. âWhich like, of course he was trying to be like, a good dad and hype me upâ But my kid brain just garbled it and translated âyou can do it allâ to âyou have to do it all.ââ
âDamn.â He cringes but laughs, sympathizing. âYou got âguyâdâ at fuckinâ five?â
âWell, when did you get âguyâd?!â You snap back, he takes a moment to think about it, sighing.
He shrugs. âProbably five.â âExactly!â
You both laugh, a bit too aggressively, honestly; compensating for the sting. Mikey sniffs, adding. âSo thatâs why you hate it? âCause of the weight?â
ââCause of the weight.â You nod. âLike a constant reminder, that I need to be likeâ constantly at service.â
âYeah.â He nods, eyes looking down. Thinking about far too much, and though you have become his closest confidant, there are still parts of him that he wonât show. âDrinking helped?â
âDrinking helped.â You close the last stitch on the patch. âWhich is funny, because that whole thing started from wanting to be helpful.â
âOh yeah? Howâs that?â
âThere was uhmââ You canât help but laugh a little, at the ridiculousness of it. âThere was this girl, and she was my best friend, and she fucking lovedâ Or I guess still lovesâ Cooking. And even as a dinky little highschooler, sheâd have me try shit, and itâd be likeâ So luxe.â
âRight.â Mikey smiles, thinking of all the dishes that have been foisted on him by the precocious cook in his life.
âAnd I wanted to be like⌠equally impressive. So I started doing research on wine pairings and shit, so I could have something to talk to her about, have somethinâ to say other than wow great jobâ Because I could tell she always wanted more.â
âAnd so you became an alcoholic?â âI havenât gotten there yet!â âWell stop burying the lead!â âOh donât you point a finger when it comes to burying a fucking lead.â âOh, fuck you.â
âAnyways!â You clap a hand on your knee, casting aside the completed sew job. âIâd give her pairings based on researchâ still teens, so we couldnât drink yet, but she appreciated the thought. And then I went to college and she went to CIA and we were talking and then we graduated and suddenly we werenâtâŚâ You knock your fist against your hand a couple times. âWe werenât talking, anymore.âÂ
âAnd so you became an alcoholic?â âKinda.â âOh. I was being sarcastic.â âYeah, dontchu feel guilty as fuck now?â âWhat happened?â
âIt was easy.â You shrug. âI started working at pubs in college, I was getting free drinks all the time, I was trying more wines for herâ I didnât really see it as a problem, because like, I didnât do it to function, I never reached for anything like âoh I fucking need this.ââ
âThatâs how it starts.â
âThatâs how it fuckinâ starts.â You nod. âThen suddenly we werenât talking and I became an E-M-T, and then suddenly I was watching people yâknow, live through the worst moment of their lives or die, and Iâ Suddenly I did need that drink.â You shouldâve just called her. She wouldâve done a lot more for you than a bottle could. But you were stupid and tired, and still are.
âWho coulda thunk it?â âI know! Ridiculous.â
âHow long you been stable, again?âÂ
âSix months, four days⌠But whoâs counting?â You laugh, and so does he.
Youâre both very literally counting. And the buzzer of a timer going off on your phone reminds you of that. You both stare at it, in a daze, as it officially hits Twelve in the morning. Once you silence it, you look to Mikey.Â
âMichael The Bear Berzatto, you have officially been sober for twenty-four hours.â
He smiles, no teeth, but he smiles. âGimme.â
âBe patient!â âI am being the most patient a person can be.â âYeah thatâs fair.â
You opt to go for the cupcake first, a big One candle sticking out of it. âThis is stupid.â Says Mikey. âHave some fucking whimsy in the face of adversity.â Says you, pulling out your disposable camera.Â
âDo we need photos?â âWhat the fuck else are we gonna put in my folder?â âI dunno, write me sonnets.âÂ
âDo you want sonnets?â You ask, and the worst part is Michael can tell youâre being sincere. You would write him sonnets, if he only asked. You would do anything, if he only asked. You quit being an EMT, immediately after seeing the state he was in, last week. You are here for Michael, and he only has to ask.
He shakes his head and blows out the candle when you lift the cupcake to his face, and he makes a wish to whatever higher power exists, that he wonât drag you down with him.Â
You thread a 24 Hours in Recovery chip onto the embroidery thread you were using and tie it off. When you present it to him, he bends his head down. âChip me.â
âThatâs not what chip me means.â âIt means something?â âIâm pretty sure chipping someone means shooting someoneââ âWell Google it, Chip.â âWell, fuck, okâ Chip?â
He shrugs, âBetter than Jack, no?â
You throw the necklace over his neck, like youâre knighting him. You grow a great degree softer. Even when heâs deliberately not supposed to be The Guy, when heâs supposed to be working on himself, heâs still your guy. Still looking out for you just as much as you look out for him. He will never realize that you consider the exchange equal.
âYeah, better than Jack.â
âThis sobriety thing is going to be easy.â â âOkay, soâ The thing is, everyone kinda says that after twenty-four hours and then a week or two in, it actually hitsââ âItâs gonna be so easy.â âI love that you think that and I want you to keep that hope up, I also think maybe letâs just be easy on ourselves if it gets hardââ âItâs not gonna get hard.â âThatâs what she saidââ âFucking gross!â
He throws his arm over your shoulder, a loving noogie, but a noogie nonetheless. You try to hit him from below, itâs a failed flailing. You both start laughing and he stops, opting to just hold you there. You hold his forearm with your hands, and sigh.
â...Even when itâs not easy, weâre on the same team, okay? Donât forget that. That weâre on the same team and I love you.â
He squeezes you a little, bicep curling. In fifteen seconds you will complain that heâs choking you, but right now, he says, âIâm not gonna forget you love me, Chip.â and neither of you know this is a lie, yet.
âIâm sorry.â Carmen sniffs, is he actually going to cry? Holy shit, he might cry. âI donât know what I saidââ
âYou donât know what you said?â Richie scoffs, he canât help but laugh. âYou donât know what you fuckinâ said? Ahâ Itâsâ Itâs all good, man. You donât know what you said, so itâs all goodââ
âIâm apologizingââ âNononoâ Noâ Itâs all good, I donât need a fuckinâ apology. I know how you feel now, so itâs all fuckinâ good.â
âI love youââ âYou love me? You love me? Oh, that wouldâve been nice to hear half a fucking hour ago.â
Has it really only been thirty minutes?
âNoâ No, you know what?â Richie takes a choked breath, pressing his index finger over his nose and mouth, then points it to Carmen. âIf thatâs what your fuckinâ love isâ I donât fuckinâ want it. And I donât want that shit for Chip, eitherâ So leave her the fuck out of your fuckinâ love or whatever the fuck you think that is, too.â
That one hurts, because itâs true. Carmen canât say anything to that; the silence just eggs Richie on more. âOh, was that a low blow, to you? Cause Iâd say saying it was her fault was a pretty low fucking blowâ Kinda below the belt shit, if you ask meââ
âWhat?â
A silence louder than anything either of them have ever heard hangs in the air.
âFuck you mean what?â
âI said what?â Carmenâs spit still feels like glass, he is destroying his throat. âWhatâWhat did I say?â
Stunned, Richie is stunned. And he canât tell if Carmâs lack of cognizance in the situation makes him more or less angry. Heâs pretty sure itâs more. âYouâre fucking kidding me.â
âCousin, what the fuck did I say to her?â
âYou said she failed him.â
Yeah, Carmenâs gonna cry. Carmen is absolutely going to cry. Not weeping, but a tear. Just the one. Just the one, and the dry heaving. The dry heaving and just short of falling over, managing at the last minute to fall onto his rear. He slides his back against the full length window of The Bear. All the guests will get to witness his full blown meltdown. Who fucking cares. He cards through his semi-matted hair, againâ Itâs not fucking working. Itâs not working and he might as well tear his hair out because thereâs no reason for it anymore if you're not in it.
âI am a monster.â Not said like a question, not said with emphasis, not choked. Completely monotone. Zero pulse. Said as a fact as simple as the sky is blue. And it is. Because now that he remembers that one thread, he can follow it back. âI am bullshit.â
Itâs hard to kick someone, when theyâre down. Itâs hard to say all the things you want to say to a person, when theyâre just saying it about themselves. Richie just stares, debating his options. He could so easily choose to destroy whatâs left of Carmen. Frankly, Carmâs sitting at the perfect angle to kick his fucking teeth in. Richie came out here with full intent of throwing Carmen through the window. Came out here with the full intent of proving heâs a fucking problem.
â...I donât know how to fix it.â But Carmen looks up at him, with a never before seen level of humility. âHow do I fix it?â
His best friend loved this guy, and unfortunately you also seem to be on the verge of loving this guy. And even more regrettably, Richie loves this guy. He shrugs, and to any onlookers, his response would seem to be lacking any level of empathy.Â
âStop being you.â
âYou donât love me!â
âOf course we fuckinâ love you!â
âYou donât fucking love me!â
Like tidal waves, Richie and Mikey crash against either side of the walk-in freezer door. Mikey desperately trying to escape the freezer; you and Richie desperately trying to keep him in.Â
Your phone rings, in the middle of this. âAh, shit, sheâs calling back, hold onââ You slide your back off the door slowly, giving Richie time to place extra weight where your body was to keep it closed as Mikey relentlessly slams. Heâs pivoted to screaming likeâ Well, a bear, now.Â
You move just a few feet awayâ Enough to fog up the yelling, but not enough that you couldnât run back to Richie if his arms start to numb.Â
âYo, T.â You answer, thankful that somebody has finally returned your fucking calls. To be fair, itâs painfully earlyâ But how is no one awake an hour before they have to clock in? Câmon.
âWeâre doing this because we love you, fuckinâ numb nuts!âÂ
âDonât be fuckinâ mean when heâs in a vulnerable state!â You kiss your teeth, yelling to Richie behind you, just as Tina tries to say hi.Â
âI am not a fucking patient, Chip!â Another slam, another violent jiggling of the door handle. Youâre pretty sure that shit is going to break off one day, if he keeps doing that. You donât know how right you are now, but you will in a year or so. âOpen the fucking door!â
You only remember youâre on the phone with Tina when she pipes up, vaguely hearing the yelling on her end. â...Two week milestone going well?â
âJust fucking peachy, T.â You grimace, rubbing the space between your brows. âYou think itâs healthy to lock him in the freezer? I feel like we are fucking this up.â
âWhyâs he in the freezer?â
âGuess who wasââ You turn your head to Richie, when you speak into the phone. âSo fucking stupidâ And left his fucking xanax just out in the open with his unfinished breakfast?â
âI apologizedââ âYou didnât do nothinâ wrong, Cousin! Now open the fucking door!â
âYeah, I think freezer is the right call.â Says Tina; youâre both not sure if thatâs true, but at the very least when heâs in there he canât hurt himself or either of you. But fuck, he must be cold. Maybe thatâs good for his nervous system? Every yell just mounts with guiltâ But youâre his sponsor now. You are not his friend right now, youâre his mentor and youâre meant to do this. This is definitelyâ slamâ the right thingâscreamâto do.
âYeah, probably.â You nod, to no one. âWell, basically, if you can let everyone know to justâ Not fucking come in, today, or at the very least not come in for likeâ At least three hours. Maybe six. Itâs not like you can work anyways, the freezerâs off limits until further notice.â
âYou sure you donât need us to come in?â
âAh, T, thatâs a nice thought butââ You wince, as you hear a crash from inside the walk-in. âI donât know if itâs better or worse, for more people to witness this.â
Richie can tell what the crash is, because he himself has dropped shit an innumerable number of times in that walk-in before. ââDid you just knock over the fuckinâ stockââ âFuck yourself! Fuck yourself! This is my fucking restaurant! Let me the fuck out, Richard!â
âLetâs just say call me back in three hours.â Is what you settle on. You donât want to see this, and you donât want anyone else to have to see this. And when Mikey eventually comes out of his rage state, he will be glad that the only two people that actually saw him like this, are his two closest friends. âCan you let everyone else know?â
âYeah baby, Iâll let âem know.â First time Tinaâs called you baby with sincerity instead of sarcasm, you wish you could savour it, but youâre so distracted with everything else that you really donât even notice it. âKeep yourself safe too, alright?â
âOkay, Mama.â You reply with what is really only half sarcasm, and let her go. You sidle up to Richie, back on holding the door closed duty. Backs against the walk-in door, holding Mikey in, despite punch after punch after punch. Heâll wear himself out, eventually, but youâre terrified about how long thatâs going to take. So is Richie.
He nods to your phone. âHow long?â
You donât need to check to know. âIn six hours, heâll be at two weeks.â You wince as one of Mikeyâs hits against the door very directly targets your back, putting it in knots. âBut itâs not like heâs suddenly going to go, oh well itâs been two weeks so Iâm normal now, though.â
Richie just nods, pensive. âMâsorry.âÂ
You shake your head. âI was just beinâ a bitch, weâre all getting used to it, I gettit, just try to be safer.â
He nods again, looking down at you as the beating seems to slow down. Richie tries to imagine a world where you two arenât here right now; for some reason, he finds that universe more miserable. âWeâre so fucked.â Because here itâs you two. Youâre so fucked but itâs you two. It will take more than a year for you to figure out thatâs how Richie feels.
âI know.â You punch back against the door, alerting Mikeyâ Not that he wasnât already alert, and speak to both of them. âSame team, though!â
One last resounding body slam into the door, with everything Mikey hasâ It moves, just a bit, but not at all enough to open it. And then, a long silence. To the point where you and Richie look at each other, worried if Michael has somehow just died in there. But then a quiet voice speaks, like a white flag being raised.Â
âSame team.â
You look to Richie for permission, heâs just as clueless as you are here, as to what the right call is. With the most trepidation one could have, you put your hand on the handle and just start to pull on it, not even close to opening it. But Mikey notices the way the hinge moves by a hair, on the other side.Â
âDonât open it.â You know heâs up to the door, just opposite of you. Not capable of looking at you; not capable of looking at him. âSix hours. Itâs just six hours.â
But you can hear each other. And maybe thatâs all you really ever needed. To be able to hear each other, even when heâs not here.Â
âSix hours. Same team.â
âI donât know how.â Carmenâs nose twitches. âI donât know how to stop being fuckingâGarbageâ Iâve triedââ âHave you?â
Itâs a bit knife twisting, from Richie, but necessary. âHave you done the work? Cause itâsâ I donât think you have, Carm.â
â...What the fuck kinda work can I do, to fix meâ?â Richie snaps his fingers, pointing at Carmen, interrupting him. âThatâ That is the exact fuckinâ problem with you, Cousin.â
Carmen almost rolls his eyes, putting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. âWhat, that Iâm self-aware?â
âThat you just fuckinâ give up.â âI donât just give upââ âYou do! You give up and you go wah, Iâm a Chef with issues and Iâm gonna make it everyone elseâs fucking problemââ âI am asking for helpââ âAre you? Because the last person that helped you just ran out crying.â
Richie exhales, eyes closed. Thereâs a long forced silence, as a few tables full of patrons exit The Bear, awkwardly shuffling past what is clearly a crisis between the people that have been serving them tonight.
âThat was below the belt, Iâll admit.â Says Rich, once theyâre out of earshot.Â
Carmen just shakes his head, though he cannot look at Richie, though he canât refute anything.Â
Richie steps next to where Carmen sits, and like an olive branch, Carmen lifts up his arm to offer his cigarette. Richie accepts, thank Godâ Thank you, for softening him up, because if you hadnât, again, Carmen would be going headfirst through the fucking window right now.
âDonât yell ât meââ That honestly hurts more than getting thrown through a window. âBut I donât think you got Andrea, at all.â
Andrea? Oh. âChef Terry?â The Everâs owner, Richie means.Â
âAndrea.â Richie nods, taking a puff. âEvery second countsâ I donât think you got it.â
Carmen just shrugs, shaking his head, sure, he worked there for years and Richie worked there for days, but sure, heâs the one that didnât get it. âYeah? Whatâd I miss?â
âItâs not meant to make you fuckinââ He gestures to the general form of Carmen. âTweak. Itâs not about speed orâ orâ like firinâ off on all fuckinâ cylinders.âÂ
âThen what is it?â
âIt counts because it counts.â Richie hands the cig back to Carmen. âItâsâ The fuckingââ He kisses his teeth, trying to figure out the best way to explain. âWhen you took like, a million goddamn years to make that fuckinâ montâ Montâ What was it?â
âMontmorency.â Your cherry sauce. Carmen spent too fucking long reducing it, yesterday. He redid it like five times. Heâd redone it so many times the autopilot in his brain fucked up that fucking plate yesterday, and it threw his entire life into a spiral. No. That's not what happened. He threw his life into a spiral.
âThat was worth it, cause itâ Cause it took time. Does thatâ Am I making any fuckinâ sense? Terry did this shit better, fuck.â Richie rubs a hand over his face, youâd probably be able to explain this better too. âItâs not the thing youâre doing that makes it count, it counts because youâre doing it.â
The value is in the time, not what is delivered. It does not need to be the most special, hyper condensed, hyper focused, upper echelon second to count. It will count because it counts. Time spent is worth it, no matter what was bought. Every second you spend, will always count. All the work and the not work and the love and the not loveâ It all counts. It counts because it counts. You care therefore you care. Any effort made is good effort.Â
Why does Carmen keep taking eons to learn what you are always trying to tell him?
The door opens, again. Instead of more patrons, Syd steps outâ Wondering where the fuck her Exec and Host have gone. âAre we good?âÂ
âNo.â Says her Exec and Host. She nods, thatâs good, cause sheâs not good either.Â
âWhoâs runninâ house?â
âNo one.â Lies Syd, Tinaâs running the back, Sweeps is running the front, but she wants to freak Carmen out a little. She grabs the cigarette from Richie. âBurn the money, I say.â
âSo, what youâre asking me to doâ If Iâm understanding, correctly, whichâ I might not beâ You want me to take all my money, okay, and place it in a fucking furnace? Is that right?â
âSo Iâm sensingââ You curl your hand in the air. âA touch of hostility, which is fair.â
Bargaining with Uncle Jimmy isnât the easiest thing in the world�� Especially when this is your first time meeting himâ And youâre begging him for money. Well, helping Mikey beg him for money.Â
âListen, Uncle, please.â Mikey swallows, leaning in, elbows on the table. Itâs nearly the end of January. New year, fresh start. No better time to pitch a half-baked pipe dream in the middle of The Beefâs dining room. âItâs not like Iâm brand new to the restaurant gigâ We turn profit, here, we can fuckinâ pay people.â
âCan you pay me?â âWe willââ âOr you could just let me cut my lossesââ âI wanna do something real, Uncle.â
âWhyâs she here, again?â You shrink, when Cicero points at you. You swallow.Â
âIâm here as⌠Proof⌠That he wants to do something real.â You have to stop yourself from doing jazz hands, doubling down on the awkwardness will not make it go away, that is sadly not how that works.
Jimmy stares, for a moment, the cogs in his brain almost audibly whirring, as he stares at the space between you and Mikey, where you sit, at the other side of the booth. âAre you having a fuckinâ baby or somethin?â
The visceral reaction from your side of the booth is immediate. The worst part is heâs not even the first one to ask something like thisâ No, the manager at Wells Fargo was.
âWhat the fuck!â âCome on, UncleâŚâ âDo Iâ Do I look like a Milf, what the fuck is going onââ âShe could be my daughter!â âAlrightâ So that is a little far, but the sentimentââ
âAlright, shut the fuck up, what is so fucking real that Iâm suddenly going to hack upââ
Mikey tosses his necklace onto the table. It shouldnât be physically possible, because itâs on a string, but it still manages to roll for a comically long time, like a coin, over to Jimmy. To thine own self be true. One Month.
âYou will not be giving your money to some fucking junkie, Uncleââ
You wave a hand, interrupting Mikey. âVerbiage.âÂ
He swallows and nods, taking the note. A hard lesson to learn. âYou will not be giving your money toâ Toâ Youâ Youâre gonna give your money to someone who is trying, alright?â
Uncle Jimmy hasnât looked up from the chip since it landed; Mikey continues. âAndâ And Iâm gonna bring Carmy on, and weâre gonna do likeâLike high level shit. Like a real fuckinâ Michelin levelââ
âHow many times have you gotten to a month?â
âFirst time.â
Jimmy frowns, crossing his arms. âHow many times have you tried getting to a month?â
âFive.â Michael says, âSix.â you correct. Christmas was hard. Christmas was extremely fucking hard. You werenât with the Berzattos, upon Mikeyâs requestâ And neither was Carmen, upon Mikeyâs ignoring him completely. And that made things a little fucking hard.Â
Jimmy just nods, arms still crossed. Heâs forming some sort of plan, in his head, youâre just not sure what it is yet. He looks to you. âSo youâre his sponsor, then?â
âYessir.â âDo you feel qualified to do that?â âNo-sir.â
Mikey kicks you under the table, your proclivity for honesty is not doing a great job selling this whole restaurant idea. You kick him back. âI donât think itâs possible for me to feel qualified.â
âYou sober?â âNot really.â âWell thatâs kind of a key factor, Iâve heard.â
You sigh and lean forward, putting your hands in your lap. This is Mikeyâs Uncleâ Well, is he, actually? Unsure. But he gives as much of a fuck as you do, so you spill your guts, because you know heâs poking because heâs worried that some kid is taking care of Mikey and itâs the blind leading the fucking blind.Â
âIâm stable. I drink, sometimesâ But never more than one glass, and never multiple days in a row. Iâm coming up on a year, I still attend A-Aâ Though not as often as Iâm told I shouldâ And Iâve told Mikey that turbulent month long benders and a full blown decade long opioid addiction are not the same thing and I really shouldnât be his sponsor.â
Mikey leans forward as well, then, meeting your level. âAnd I told Chipâ And our coordâ That I wonât do the program without her.â
After a long moment of silence, taking his time to digest every bit of information, Jimmy nods to the folder on the table. âNâ this?â
âItâs like a⌠Proposal?â You look to Mikey for help, he shrugs. This motherfuckerâ Youâre not even a stakeholder in this, why are you talking? You turn back to Jimmy. âItâs like a promise.â
You open the folder, thereâs loose sketches youâve put together of The Bearâs signage, plus Carmenâs original pieceâ It was fun and weird, to work off of an artist youâve never met before. Thereâs also cut outs from the New York Timeâs and Food and Wine magazine showing off his award winning talents.Â
âWe make money now.â Mikey finally chimes in, crossing his arms. âImagine what we could do with him.â
âIt would be cool!â You wingman. A little too excited for someone whoâs never even breathed in a Michelin restaurant. âItâd be cool to have, like, a fine-dining establishment on North Orleans.â
âOr youâd completely cut out the audience that already likes The Beef.â
Mikey defends, âThe people donât know what they like, yet.â while you spread out some more papers across the table, showing off screenshots of food Carmenâs texted, that Mikey has never replied to. âThey will like this shitâ Itâsâ Itâs art, Uncle. When they see this, they wonât give a shit about sandwiches.â
âTheyâll give a shit about the price.â
âUncle, Iâm the guy.â Mikey uncrosses his arms, straightening up his posture, because now itâs serious. âI canâ We can do this.â
As you continue to spread out papers, Uncle Jimmy stops you, seeing a peculiar page in the pile. He points to it, so you fish it out and hand it to him. He squints. âJoint bank account?â
You nod. âItâs so I can keep an eye on his spending and withdrawals.â Mikey tries not to wince at the fact a kid is in charge of managing his finances. You try not to wince at the fact that despite managing his finances, he's still reset six times.
âYâknow banks are a fuckinâ scam, right?â
You do not entertain Jimmy for a second, finally losing your whimsy. Your leg is shaking underneath the tableâ Thank God these tables are bolted. âI know that this is the first time in twenty years that my best friend is keeping savings.âÂ
Not just living paycheck to paycheck, anymore. Not spending every penny on painkillers, anymore. Mikey is saving up because now there is a future to spend it on. Cicero swallows, nodding, eyes looking down, thinking deeply.Â
When he speaks again, itâs to say the most insane thing youâve ever heard. âTen grand a week.â
Your reply is in sync with Mikey, both jumping forward in your seats. âWhat?â
âEvery week.â Jimmy pushes the chip back to your side of the table. âEvery week that you keep going, thatâs ten grand.â
You flail your hand under the table, grabbing for Mikeyâsâ He does the same, and itâs like a contest for whoâs going to break whoâs hand first, with how hard youâre holding each other.Â
Mikeyâs first to ask the question, âIs that⌠Starting now or starting since Iââ
âIâm so glad you asked, fuck no, thatâs starting now.â He points to you, now. You flinch. âYouâre gonna piss test him every fuckinâ week. Iâm not fucking around about this.â
âRight. Heard.â You can only nod, because if you express anything else, it might just be screaming forever and ever. He pivots back to Mikey.
âAnd itâs gonna be cashâ Itâs not going in that fuckinâ joint, aright?â âHeard.â
â...Alright. Deal.â Cicero comes forward in his seat, and shakes Mikeyâs hand. And despite not being a stakeholder, he reaches for yours, too; you shake it, and after a moment, he ruins this excitement stirring in the room, moving out of the booth. âI gotta piss, now.â
When he leaves for the bathroom, Mikey leans his head to you, putting his chin on your shoulder, whispering, âArt of the deal.â
You push his face away immediately, laughing. âShut the fuck up! Why did you make me lead that shit!?â
Tomorrow Mikey will relapse again, and youâll reset his necklace for the seventh time, but you donât know that yet. Carmenâs gonna be so excited, when he finally comes back to Chicago and gets a sober brother and his dream restaurant. Youâre excited to meet the guy, one day. Fingers crossed he likes you.Â
âThat was fucking nuts.â Sydney decides thatâs the best way to surmise it. âLike more than usual.â
âIâm aware.â Carmen can only nod, and despite the fact that heâs just going to lie down and take this, it does not remove the bitter feeling in her heart at all. Sydâs fucking mad, and she wants him to know.Â
âIâveâ Iâve literally only ever seen her cry like, like during Pixar movies or when we graduated. Like she justâ Thatâs not a thing she does. I, Iâm soâ I literally donât know what the fuck to do, right now.â For a second, she thinks her vision is flickering. âOh my god, am I finally having a stroke?â
The three restaurateurs look up to see their neon white logo of a bearâs head, flickering and occasionally buzzing out. Richieâs the first to speak, as they all blankly stare at it. âWho are we gonna call, fâthis?â
If this was yesterday, or maybe even if this was an hour ago, it wouldnât be a question as to who theyâd call. Carmen scratches the back of his head, the flaking hair gel is getting itchy. âTed?â
âWhoâs Ted?â Asks Syd; thatâs not Tony, Terry or Tommy.
âTed Fak.â Richie and Carmen answer at once, she almost gasps.Â
âTheyâre multiplying?â
Richie rolls back into his memory. âThereâs eightâ No, fuck, nine of themâ I always forget Avery.â
Sydney just nods and hugs her shoulders for warmth. They all keep staring at the flickering bear, like moths.
âI donâtâI donât have anyone, except her, yâknow?â Syd sniffs. âLike after my dad, itâsâ itâs literally just her. Sheâs my best and only friend.â
Carmen presses the palms of his hands over his eyes, âHeard.âÂ
âI donât want to choose between her and my career.â Carmen thinks sheâs pausing, so he waits, but sheâs not talking. That was the end of the sentence.
âHeard.â
âIf thatâs what getting a star takes, I donât want it.â Thatâs huge. Thatâs a big statement, from Syd of all people. That gets the men to turn their heads from the light to her.
Syd continues to stare at the flickering bear, which lights up the two single straight streams of tears perfectly. Itâs silent. Sheâs not snivelling or anything, she just shakes her head in tight swivels, biting her inner cheek. âItâs justâ itâs just not worth that.â
âHow can I fix it?â Maybe Syd will have a better answer than Richie did, something a little more actionable. She finally flits her gaze from the light down to Carmen, where he sits.Â
âCan you stay after close?â
ââNobody in this motherfucking city knows transit etiquetteâ Why does everyone get on and go âwow I love standing in the walkwayââ Iâm soâ There was so much seating just ahead of the blockage, Mikey, Iâm so pressed, Iâm literallyââ You massage your brows, finishing up your rant from this morningâs commute. âI canât. I canât.â
âIf you werenât a little passenger princess, this wouldnât be a problem, Chippy.â âI have my fucking license! I just donât have a car!â âThen buy one!â âWith whoâs money!?â âMine?â
A terrible running joke, from Mikey, is telling you to spend his moneyâ The money he gets from staying sober. The money heâs saving for The Bear. The reason why he thinks this is funny, is because you have no fucking idea where heâs been putting it. But you know he hasnât spent it, so thatâs all that really matters.
You just huff, leaning back against the wall of his office as you watch him work, arms crossed and cringing as he futzes with the wiring. âYouâre going to light us up like a Roman fucking candle.â
âItâs Jewish lightningââ âTop twenty-thousand reasons we do not say thatâ Number Oneââ âItâs gonna work! Just trust me!â
Mikeyâs office looks a lot more lively, lately. He never cleans up the mugs of coffee you give him, every morning. He says itâs his way of tracking which flavour is his favourite, since youâre always switching up. It will never change from the chai spiced blend, and you both know that. Itâd be more accurate of him to say he likes the sticky notes you tack on to each mug, saying you love him and saying he needs to keep going.
âI could fix it, yâknow.â At that, Mikey turns away from his distressing handiwork to look at you.Â
âI know. But I wanna prove I can, too.âÂ
That hits you right in the chest. You want to tell Mikey that he never has to prove anything, with you; never has to lift a goddamn finger. But he would hate to hear that. âOkay.â
You hear from outside the office, the back door opening. âChild incoming, no expletives please!â
âWhat the fuck is an expletive?â Mikey asks you, whispering.
You whisper back, leaning forward off the wall to close in on him. âItâs what you just did.â
Eva runs in, the way that kids doâ The way they kinda waddle. Immediately up to you and Mikey. Uncle Mike and Aunty Chip, she calls you both. Sometimes Uncle Jackâ Because she hasnât completely grasped the concept of gender yetâ Good, no one should.
âWatch!â You have yet to even say hi, before she immediately attempts to do a cartwheel in the middle of this very small office.Â
âGood job, Evie!â You clap, after she just barely lands safely on her shins.
She nods, âCan you do that?â
âHonestly? I donât think I can.â You look up from her to Mikey. âCan you?â
âCan I cartwheel?â He stumbles back, slapping his hand over his chest. Gutted. âCan I cartwheel? Eveâ She doesnât think I can cartwheel.â
âInsane, Uncle.â
âNot what I said!â You canât hold back your laughter, what a shining this kid has taken to her dad. âIâd love to see it, I really would!â
Mikey just shakes his head, kissing his teeth. How dare you offend his honour, in this way? This forty-two year old man can absolutely cartwheel with the best of them. In five minutes he definitely isnât gonna eat shit in the dining room of his restaurant. He pats Eva on the shoulder. âYou go with your dad and clear out some tables out front, Iâm gonna need space.âÂ
âYouâre gonna break your neck, Mike.â Richie chimes in, standing in the doorway now, waiting for Eva to return to him. âI donât wanna plan your funeral.â
âPlease, you would plan a terrible funeral.â âThatâs bullââ
âExpletive!â You cover Evaâs ears. She just laughs, looking up at you with that cute and bizarre blank kid stare. What a little patoot.Â
Richie looks to you, forgetting the bit for a moment, âY'need a grocery run, tonight?â
You nod, removing your hands from Eva, but then she holds them there. Goddamnit, kids are an awful idea but she's fucking cute. âPay you gas money in the form of Wendy's?â
âMarone!â Richie exclaims, poorly, grabbing your face by the chin and top of your head to kiss your cheek just short of a million times. âThe perfect womanââ
âNot Italian!â is the synchronous reply from you and Mikey.
Richie rolls his eyes, âNot Italianâ Fuââ
Eva interrupts him, taking as much as a shining to you as she does her father. âExpâExpultive!â She looks at you for approval and you nod in delight.
âJust go set up front, would âya?â Mikey brushes Rich off, the man just rolls his eyes, picking up his daughter from you to fly her off like an airplane.Â
âLet's set the stage for your Uncleâs neck injury, sweets. Bwwwwrrrââ Richie makes good airplane noises. Richieâs a good dad. You will never find a good time to tell him this. You watch Mikeyâs back flex, as he cracks back into the hole of wires in the wall. He's been working hard on a lot of little things lately.Â
You will not realize he is trying to make things clean and square, until it is too late. Right now, youâre just happy, because, âYouâre already at three weeks again, and you havenât even noticed.â
âOh, I fucking noticed.â He doesnât face you, when he says it, but itâs with a hearty chuckle. Heâs noticed it violently, heâs just getting very good at the first month, nowâ Well acquainted with the burn out. âBut now thereâs money on the line, I canât lose.âÂ
Itâs not that moneyâs on the line. Itâs that his brother is on the line now. And Mikey couldnât do this for himselfâ but the guy could do it for his brother. So heâll just be the guy, thatâs what the guyâs do. Six hours, same team. Nine weeks, Mikey, come on.
âWell youâre doing good, Iâm proud of you.âÂ
âYou believe in me?â He says it like he doubts your conviction. You nearly punch him in the back of the head.
âOf course I believe in you.â
Mikey bites his inner cheek, though you canât see his face. â...Why are we keeping the candles?â
Ah. Youâve still got the one and two candles in his drawer with a lighter, ready for the next cupcake. Theyâre slowly but surely melting with each reset, eventually theyâll be incomprehensible. Do you believe in me? If you do, why are you saving them? Do you think weâll need them? Thatâs what Mikeyâs asking. You scoff.Â
âYouâre so stupid.â âWhat theâ I confide in you and I get thisââ
You interrupt him, arms crossed. âOne day, one week, one month, one year, fuckinâ When we get to double digits? Ten months? One decade?â
Heâs mum, at that. You add. âWeâre getting our fucking mileage out of these candles, Mikey. I believe in you.â You think Mikey has a future, still. Mikey knows he doesnât. He changes the subject because if he doesnât, heâll tell you everything and you will stop it.
âI want you to start talking to Carmen, when he comes back.â You shouldâve asked Mikey why he was so certain Carmen would be coming back. But you werenât smart enough.Â
âWhat the fuck?â You snort. âOkay, out of literally nowhereââ âYouâd like him.â
âHe sounds very nice.â âHeâs not. Heâs aââ âBall buster, yes, youâve told me.â âHeâd like you.â âWhy?â âCause youâre you.â
âWow, pretty inarguable there.â You can only smile, unable to see the wheels turn in Michaelâs head. âGuess weâll be besties.â
âI meant talk like talkââ âAre you trying to hook me up right now?â âHeâs a virgin, so itâs definitely not a good deal for youââ âAndâ And why are we talking about your brother's sex lifeâ Did we already explode and this is hell?â âI just want you to be prepared for what youâre getting into, he gets performance anxiety soââ âMikey!â
âYouâll talk to him?â Mikey turns away from the wall, wanting you to look him in the eyes and promise him.
You shake your head and roll your eyes, but stick a hand out for the Berzatto to shake. âYes, Bear, Iâll talk to your virgin Michelin star ranked brother.â
âThank you! I ask for so little.â
After close, after everyone but Carmen, Sydney, and Richie leave, the three make plans to meet in Michaelâs office. Carmen will go in ahead to hide your folder because he doesnât want to see it himself and he absolutely doesnât want anyone else to see it. Even if one of them could very well explain it, because heâs fucking in them. Itâs fine. He looks at your wrapped up painting in the corner of his office. Carmen considers for what feels like a decade, whether or not he should open it. But he hasnât earned a gift from you, so he doesnâtâ Not for now, at least. He hasnât earned your art right now.Â
Underneath your ICE folder is his notepadâ The one he was scribbling recipes for his Exec into, the one he scribbled your recipe into, and underneath all that torn up paperâ His list, from this morning. The non-negotiable rules he wantedâ Wants? To add to The Bear. Thereâs twenty-seven. Half of them are spelt wrong as he wrote them while absolutely losing his shit, this morning. This list did not go over well, when it was proposed during family, at two in the afternoon. Some of these could still work though, right? At least the technique and the boxes and theâ
Richie comes in, not knocking, and immediately spots the list. âOh good.â He grabs the notepad and rips off the twenty seven points. Leaving only the title, NON-NEGOTIABLES.Â
âCome the fuck onââ Says Carmen. Richie rolls his eyes, tossing the list onto the desk. Richie can tear him and his stupid fucking list a new one another timeâ Richie and Carmen can sort out their own part of the fight in a week, when they take a twelve hour road trip. Right now though, they are both completely focused on you.Â
Sydney comes in with two labelled deli containers of coke. Time codes and everything, she can't turn it off. She hands one to Rich, the other one is for herself. Thatâs fine, soda on Carmenâs shredded throat really wouldnât be great right now anyways. She takes a sip, looking over Carm's shoulder. âOh, weâre doing a real list, now?â
Carmen just sighs, letting the dig go, because he deserves it. He clicks his pen, sitting down, ready to write, without hesitation. âGo.â
Richie leads, âYou need to fucking relax.â
âLay off her,â Sydney waves her hand over her neck. âLeave her the fuck alone, for like a week, minimum.âÂ
âNoâ What? Noâ You should call her like nowââ âAbsolutely not the right moveââ âSolve it hard and fastââ âWhy hardâ?â
âIâm just gonna wait.â Carmen decides, typically Syd is the right one, anyways. Plus if he hears your voice right now he might throw up and he doesnât have your tums, anymore. âNext?â
âAn exorcism.â Richie doesnât laugh, when he says it. âAlso read fuckinâ Runninâ on Emptyâ By Doctor Webb.â
The two cooks just look at him, like Richieâs grown five thousand heads. He groans before they even say anything. âIâm fuckinâ well read, shut the fuck upâ Itâsââ He snaps his fingers, pointing to Carmenâs list, âItâs an audiobook, too, on fuckinâ Spotifyâ Listen to that shit on your commute you have no excuse.â
âYes, Chef.â Carmen writes it down, he also writes down under things to look into, catastrophizing, while heâs at it. Richie watches over his shoulder, and adds, âLook into sublimation and behavourial dysfunction.âÂ
Sydâs still reeling over the sudden character growth. âYou need to relax with the self-help books.â
âYeah, well you need to read Mark Wolynnâs âIt Didnât Start With You.ââ Richieâs got lists of books now, instead of zingers. They somehow hit harder.
Sheâs got no come back for that other than a surprised pout and nod, taking her own phone out to write it down. âYes, Chef.â
Carmen pipes in, not looking up from his list of to dos âShould I also read that oneââ âYes.â âHeard, Chef. Next?â
âIt cannot be on Tony to be your fucking punching bag. If youâre tweakingâ Keep that shit between you and your therapistââ Syd switches from her notes app to search, âWeâre finding you a fuckinâ therapist.â
âIs that covered in our contract?â Didnât he write it? Carmen doesnât know.
âDoesnât matter. Also I donât know, but doesnât matter.â Syd hasnât read it yet. She also doesnât know.
You are worth a couple out of pocket fees. Well, more importantly, Carmen is worth a couple out of pocket feesâ Well, alright, heâll discuss his weaknesses of self-prioritization with the therapist.Â
Before Carmen can even say next, Richie adds. âAlso you smell like shit.â The hair gel is pungent in a bad way.
And before he can defend himself, Sydney adds, not looking up from her phone, âWeâre going to fuckinâ Kohlâs after this and weâre getting you a skincareâ And haircareâ routine. Youâre seconds away from breaking out, I bet you use fuckinâ Palmolive dish soap.â
âWellâ Iâve been using Tonyâs, actuallyââ âWe know.â Itâs a completely synchronized interruption.Â
âItâs been her signature scent, since highschool.â âWho do you think took her grocery shopping when she didnât have a car?â âI thought I was having a flashback everytime you walked by in the kitchen, this past week.â âYou should go back to it.â
âI know. I will.â Heâs got every intention of re-upping on your shampoo and conditioner, when heâs taken on a shopping spree to get his shit together. Hopefully you wonât mind him copying you. âNo more Five in One.â
âYouâve been using fucking five in one!?â
Carmen thought, yesterday, naively, that he would do right by you on Friday. He didnât, he did the very oppositeâ But even if he did, thatâs weak shit. Carmenâs not gonna do right by you for just one single fucking day. Carmenâs gonna do right by you, for the rest of his life. The three get to well over twenty seven points, and he has every intention of showing up to it. Heâs gonna be your man, and heâs going to fucking earn that title. Heâs going to prove it.
âOkay. So can you tell me what happened on February 22nd?â Sheâs a shit therapist. Youâre imagining both you and her dead in your head. Youâve been imagining a lot of people dead in your head, for the last two weeks. Every time your dad comes to check on you, you imagine that heâs a ghost.Â
You imagine having a passing conversation with someone, maybe catching up with Syd, one day. And sheâll ask you âMeet any interesting people?â and youâll say âYeah. But he killed himself.â Thatâs gonna suck. You didnât prepare for that one. So you need to prepare now. Look at all of your friends and family, and imagine they are deadâ And introduce them as such. âThatâs my friend Richie, he died.â Make it hurt now, so it doesnât hurt then.Â
You didnât prepare enough. Didnât do enough. Countless little mistakes and moments you missed. The therapist is looking at you, oh right, itâs your turn to talk again. Youâve told her all these cute little stories but now she wants to hear how the sad shit went. Or maybe it was all sad shit. Maybe itâs all coated in a film of grief, now.Â
Youâll tell her that Mikey was very thorough, with his plan that you didnât know about. He waited until he thought you were out of the cityâ When he knew youâd be out of the city. When your sister in law delivered your nephew and you went to Oak Park to visit.Â
Just days before, you celebrated three months of sobriety with him and Richieâ Youâll tell the therapist, excitedly, that this was his longest streak so far, it took him a year to reach three monthsâ It was a big fucking deal. You were beaming all day. You didnât realize, however, that days after Uncle Jimmy had made his deal with you two, that Mikey did the math. Figured out exactly how many weeks heâd have to be sober, to get three-hundred grand.Â
Thirty weeks. Roughly seven months and two weeks. He did it. Not in sequence, but he did it. Youâre still not sure where that money is. Uncle isnât either. Maybe Carmen will figure it out. Itâs meant for him anyways. Youâll say that Carmen will figure it out in such a way that she asksâ âAnd do you hold animosity? Towards his younger brother?â
You look at her like sheâs a psycho, because she is. Replying incredulously, âI donât fucking know him.â
âMy best friend Michael is dead.â âMy best friend, Mikey, is dead.â Doesnât sound right. Doesnât quite roll off the tongue.Â
âDo you wish you did?â
âI really couldnât say I give a shit, maâam. Can I tell you about the guy I did know, though?â
She nods, you roll the fuck on. You tell her that the morning after you got to your brotherâs placeâ February 22nd, you all decided instead of staying for the week, as youâd planned, as Mikey planned, youâd instead go home early. Because as much as you wanted to be helpful, having more people in the house was stressing the new mom the fuck out. Understandable. So you took a train back to Chicago early.Â
You got home, and you found that youâd gotten some mail, waiting for you on the floor, shoved through the mail slot of your door. Bill, bill, invoice, spam, coupons, handwritten envelopeâ Ah. Mikeyâs handwriting. A deep unsettling feeling burrowed its way into you. It just says For Chip. Thereâs no letter inside. No. Thereâs a debit card, his, of your joint bank account, thereâs a key, yours, a copy of your key to this apartment, and a necklace, hisâ With his three month sobriety chip hanging off of it.Â
You call him, immediately. He doesnât answer the first time. You call him again. He answers on the last possible ring.Â
The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your lifeâ        Is honestly quite boring, because itâs just a phone call with an old friend.
âYo, Ice-y!â A classic nickname, reserved purely for phone calls with Mikey. Because in his phone, youâre 0ICEChip, so youâll show up at the top of his contact list, if heâs ever found unresponsive. Typically a pro-tip reserved for those in hospice care.
You donât entertain him. âWhere are you?â
âIâm just out for a walk, sweetheart.â âShut the fuck up out for a walkâ Where the fuck are you?â
He hums at your snarky tone. âNephew didnât take a liking to you?â âI came home early.â
The silence is long, and you can hear the heavy wind coming through his phone. Heâs outside. Heâs somewhere outside. Itâs a cold night. Itâs usually not this cold at the end of February, but it really fucking came down, this morning.Â
âOh.â
âWhy did you leave this shit at my door? Where are you?â You thought of 0ICE but you didnât think to have him turn his location on? Fucking idiot. Fucking idiot. You didnât do enough. âMy friend, Bear, is dead.â You didnât prepare enough. âBear, câmon, whatâs going on? I told you, if we need to reset, itâs two steps forward, one step back, itâs okayââ
âItâs not.â âIt is! We will get there!â âIâm not. Youâre gonna get there, Iâm not.â âThatâs not true!â âI love you but we both know this was a pipe dream.â
âMikeyââ
âChip, Iâm not going anywhere. Youâreâ Youâre fucking going somewhere. I canâtâ I canât letâ We both know where Iâm going and itâs nowhere you should begin to be.â
âYou donât get to make that choice for me. You donât get to make that call. I decide what I bet onâ Mikey, where are you?â Youâre walking out of your place, you hadnât even closed the door before leaving again.
Fucking idiot, you shouldâve bought a car. How are you supposed to get to him on foot and train? Fucking idiot. The snow is beating down, the wind is cutting into your face. âMy best friend died on February 22nd. On the State Street Bridge.ââ Why didnât you get a fucking car? You didnât do enough. You canât remember any of your training, right now. What are you supposed to say? âAre you using?â
âNo. No. Iâmâ This is me, Chip.â âNo itâs fucking not, Mikey! Shut the fuck up, where are you!?â
âI love you, I didnât want this to beâ I-IâIâm not killing myself, Chip.â
âYouâre not?â
You shouldnât have believed him. You shouldâve just kept walking. You wouldâve figured out where he was, eventually. You shouldâve called the coast guard, or some shit. Shouldâve just figured it out.
âIâm not. Iâmâ Iâm okay, Iâm really just going for a walkâ I-I justâ I had a⌠Iâ I donât want you to be my sponsor anymore. Thatâs it.â It made sense. He didn't want you to feel hurt, so he was hesitant. It made sense.
âWhy?â
âCause youâre a kid, and I canât make you responsible for what I do.â
âIâm not a kid.â âTo me, you are.â âThen weâll find you someone else.â âYeah, okay.â
You pause, for a good bit, listening to the shakiness of his breath. âYouâre cold, Mikey.â
âIâm okay.â
âYouâre just cold.â Thatâs all thatâs wrong. Heâs just cold and he doesn't want you to be his sponsor anymore. âGo inside, soon. Come home.â
âI will.â
Mikey always had that way of making you think everything was going to be okay, even when it wasnât. âOkay.â
âI want you to start treating our joint like an advanced payment, by the way. A million things are always fucking breaking at The Beef, thereâs no point in wiring all the time.â
Mikey wants this to be clean and square, too. Because he couldnât figure out the wiring by himselfâ He needs to make sure his baby brother is taken care of, he needs to make sure his restaurant is taken care of, he needs to make sure that you have something to do because Michael fucking saw you.Â
âYeah, that makes sense.â You nod to no one. âI think your toilets fucked, speaking of.â You laugh, everythingâs okay. Thereâs a long silence, and you think heâs hung up.Â
âGood. Okayâ You shouldâ You should come fix it, sometime soon⌠Love you, Chip.â
âLove you, Bear.â
You will tell your therapist that after that phone call, you went back inside, cleaned yourself up, unpacked unused toiletries, changed out of your borrowed brotherâs sweats into your nice pajamas, because Mikey said he would come home. He said he would come home and you believed him because he never lied to you before. You set up the things he left for you in your handmade clay dish tray; so he can take them back. Just because youâre not his sponsor, doesnât mean he shouldnât keep his chips.Â
You will tell your therapist that you fell asleep on the couch, waiting for Michael. You will tell her you woke up to a phone call from Richie, and all he said, wavering, was, âYou should come over.â Richie doesnât ask things. Richie will always say, come over. You donât know why thatâs the signal you get, since you seemingly must have missed so many other obvious signs, but you know then that yourâ Yourâ Your bestâ Fuck, the knots are fucking debilitating, fuck fuck fuck.Â
You will not come over. You will walk, in the cold, to your dadâs place. You will not bring anything with you. You will stay there and rot for two weeks, as will everything in your apartment. He will force you to go to this several hour long therapy appointment because he canât keep watching you do this, and you will resent the woman you are telling all this.Â
You will continue to see her, for five more sessions, because the first six are covered under your insurance. She will help in a lot of ways, she will hurt in others.
Wells-Fargo will ask if you want to close your account. You donât want to, but itâll accrue monthly banking fees, so you take the money out and close it. You buy a shitty maroon 2004 Dodge Intrepid off Facebook Marketplace with the two and a half grand. It barely functions as a car. But it will drive. The next time someone needs you. You can drive. Next time youâll think of everything, next time you wonât fail.
You stop paying the phone bill, for your business line. It goes defunct. You just donât think you should be trusted to be helpful, for the next little while. You will blame your father for this, when people ask about it.
On the day of his funeral, you will go. You will go, and you will sit on the curb across from the church, and you will not go inside. It's just not possible. You will buy a pork chop-cheese sandwich from a bodega nearby and you will eat it on that curb and itâs only then, after shoving it down for so long, that you will scream and cry.
You will leave before anyone sees you, and you will go to State Street Bridge, and you will set up a small vigil. You will finnick with the candles and the flowers until you feel they are perfect. They will never get perfect. You just donât want to leave. You have a tendency to do that.Â
You will stare at the little stuffed bear, the roses, the picture frame of him, and you will finally say it aloud.Â
âMy best friend, Mikey, died.â
When Carmen shows up, two hours later, not honestly that long after you finally left, he will add a bouquet and a prayer candle. He will readjust all of your work, to his preference, and then readjust it again and again and againâ and he will finally say it aloud.Â
âMy brother, Mikey, shot himself.â
No matter how you say it, it wonât roll off the tongue.
And about thirty-nine weeks from that day, you will be in New York, at a wedding, talking with the virgin Michelin star ranked brother, as you promised.
You will have abandoned your bar after making confessions under the counter, and have instead co-opted the single stall gender-neutral bathroom to have ample time and space to tell each other everything youâve told your therapists. Even now, neither of you can get the words to roll off the tongue.Â
But Carmen manages to make âIâm sorry. Iâm so fucking sorryâ I will never be able to surmise, how sorryââ roll off well enough. Alas, heâs interrupted, by a knock on the gender-neutral bathroom door, made by the only fuckers that knows you two are in here.Â
âGuys Iâ Guys I donât know how to run bar, and I donât think I shouldâve been trusted, with this.â
Carmen will not look away from your bleary-eyed face, he will not break his focus even when you laugh at the sudden tension break. He will just tell the Faks to fuck off and figure it out.
âIâm gonna fix it.â Carmen will tell you, and you will nod and say, âI will too.â
Because itâs not just on one of you, anymore. It can be both. The shared burden. The shared grief. No more fucking shoes, because it's all out now.
Itâs not negotiable.
I love when tumblr drafts fully start to lag and my macbook lights on fire because the post is too fucking long. I have so much to say about this chapter but I think I will just make a separate post entirely about this. Because Iâm. Iâm really proud tbh not to toot my own horn but I think I kind of maybe a little bit ate with this one.Â
Fun fact, that you may or may not believe: The Carmen scenes? Not planned. Fully did not plan to do any of that. This was going to be entirely Mikey flashbacks, originallyâ There mightâve ended up being more honestly, if I didnât add Carmen, but after Something to Do when I started writing I was like,,, these cats arenât cooking, Carmenâs side is missing a second beat before the third. And so, here it is.Â
I know everyone was expecting a depression week for Carmenâ And to be fair, I also kind of was. But I then thought, nah. Theyâd done too much work, and I donât think Rich/Syd would allow him to wallow. Like get your shit together, not for you, for her. Ugh.Â
Speaking of Rich and Sydâ FUCK man my heart. The way their scenes from the past and present meshed together in such a deeply painful way Iâm sooo SICK WITH IT!!! WHAT DID YOU THINK?!?!! Just fuckinâ The way Tony was too scared to reach out to Syd but itâs SO FUCKING OBVIOUS that Syd was on the other side of Chicago thinking the exact same shit iâm SO SICK!!!!! IâM HACKING UP A LUNG HERE!!
Anyways itâs my birthday send me well wishes and an essay on what you thought Iâd love to hear it. I know this was a tough one. Thank you for getting through it with me lmao. Tag list! Hope I didnât forget anyone, pwease note i ownwee add pweople who swend theiw twoughtsâ It also may or may not hurt my feelings when people donât read this text at the bottom. It might. It might a lot.
@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin @ashtonweon @sharkluver @fridavacado @hoetel-manager @mrs-perfectly-fine
Next Part
#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto imagine#carmen berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen x reader#carmy berzatto#mikey berzatto#michael berzatto#carmen x oc#carmy x reader#the bear fanfiction#the bear x reader#the bear#the bear hulu#the bear fx
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Yearning Allegations - Pt.2
Part 1 can be found here
Part: 2
Pairing: Paige Bueckers x reader
Genre: Friends to lovers slowburn (Series)
Summary: You've liked Paige for the longest time. Is there any chance she likes you too?
The first thing you do when you get back to your dorm is groan. Why the hell did you say that? Now she's gonna be worried about you, which is the last thing you'd want.
Annoyed with yourself, you kick off your shoes and throw your clothes into the corner before changing into an old oversized shirt you stole off Paige once when you slept over at hers. It's comforting, still smelling vaguely like her, and you curl up in your bed, plush bedcovers over your knees.
Earbuds in, you press play on Taylor Swift's newest album. Your taste in music was different from Paige's, preferring pop and rock, whereas she liked what you affectionately called "fuckboy music." Of course this was just a lighthearted inside joke, you also liked some of her music, like PartyNextDoor or The Weeknd.
You're halfway through the song 'Down Bad' when you hear a light knock at your door and a soft voice.
"Hey y/n? You good? Open up"
You open up the door to see Paige standing there with an unreadable expression, and then she just walks right in and drops onto your bed.
"Yeah, I'm all good" You say, hoping you sound reassuring. Can she tell you don't actually have a headache?
Paige doesn't say anything. She just seems to be studying you closely, and you nervously ramble on.
"You really didn't have to leave the party, sorry if I freaked you out or something"
You've said it all in a rush, and Paige just smiles a bit as she reaches out and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. You want to speak up and tease her to ease the tension until you look at her face.
Paige's expression is gentle, and you notice just how dilated her pupils are in the dim light of your room. Her irises are small, nothing but a vivid blue ring, and you smile at the sight. Her eyes are just so pretty, they've always reminded you of forget me nots, or a clear sky, and you're so busy pondering their exact shade match that you realize you forgot to speak.
"What?" Paige says, suddenly self-conscious.
You blink a few times.
"Nothing"
You turn away, grabbing your glass of water off the nightstand.
Paige is looking at you, head slightly cocked, brows knit quizzically. Your mouth feels dry despite the water, and you want her to stop looking at you like she's trying to figure you out.
"I swear I'm actually good, deadass. My head just really hurts. Probably chugged too many shots during that drinking game earlier. " You put down your cup and dramatically flop onto the bed, closing your eyes and then peeking one open to check if your explanation worked.
Paige finally relaxes and smirks at you,
"Pfft y/n you're such a light weight. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
You scoff and reply with a grumbled whatever I'm fine, pressing a hand to your head dramatically, and Paige props herself up against the wall, holding one arm out for you.
"Alright, alright, come here."
You smile at her, cuddling up to her side. Her perfume smells so good. It's a subtle vanilla. You settle on her chest as she holds you.
"Also- are you wearing my shirt?" Paige says, rather amused.
"Yeah? Why, do you want it back? Iâll give it to you later" You retort, with half a mind to take it off and playfully throw it at her. This is how it was between you two, at least when you weren't acting like an idiot.
"Nono it's fine, just thought it was... interesting"
Paige pulls you back in, hiding her grin with her hand.
You're fighting off sleep, but you still scoff in response, and she just strokes your hair gently as you drift off.
---
The next week, Paige is over at your dorm, playing Fortnite on call with KK and Ice as you play League of Legends.
"Ughhhhh!!"
Paige groans with frustration, putting down her controller as she loses another match. KK and Ice are bickering with each other over call, and you just smile at the familiar sounds.
You're busy fighting hard in League. Your team is technically losing, but you think you might be able to carry if you score a few more kills at the right time. You don't look up when Paige sits down next to you, headset and game abandoned, head resting over your shoulder to watch you play.
"Another loss, huh?" You say, grinning while you score another kill.
You don't need to turn around to see Paige's eyeroll.
"Yeah yeah, whatever. I just lost cause I was trolling too hard"
Paige is a bit of a sore loser (and dramatic) so you can't resist the urge to poke a little fun at her.
"That's what you get for being a Fortnite player, cringe as hell manâ
Paige throws her hands up as she retorts back,
"Dude you're literally playing fuckin League of Legends right now, you can't talk"
You finally look away for a second to grin mischievously at her, one eyebrow cocked.
"Well, at least I'm good at League-"
Not more than 2 seconds pass before Paige sticks her whole hand in front of your screen during a team fight, causing your character to die. You end up losing the game, considering the enemy team was already way ahead.
"What the hell, Paige!"
You whine, and she just grins evily in response.
"HA, what were you saying about winning??-"
You don't allow her to finish that sentence because you shove her over, standing up from the chair and knocking her onto your bed.
"Hey!"
Paige shouts as you start tickling her sides, absolutely going in. You've got a knee on her leg to make sure she doesn't wiggle away from you.
"Yeah, so who's losing now-" You laugh, her cussing at you, trying to pull your hands away.
After a few minutes, Paige pushes you over, and now it's a full-blown battle. Your hands scramble to find her weak spots before she can find yours, and you note how her loose t shirt has risen up, a bit of her stomach out as she kneels over. You seize the opportunity and tickle just under the hem of her shirt, fingers hitting bare skin.
Paige's face blushes a deep pink as she feels your hands go up her shirt, and she grabs one of your wrists, pinning it to the bed.
"Paige!" You can't get your wrist free from underneath her, she's stupidly strong. You can't even move away because she's sitting on you now, using her free hand to tickle your neck and side mercilessly.
"I think you're the one losing!" Paige says triumphantly, enjoying the sight of you squealing.
You sneak your other hand unpinned hand into her waist, tickling her side, and she curses, grabbing that hand and pinning it too.
Breathing heavy, you're both flush against each other, her body leaning over yours, and for a second, you swear you see her eyes flicker down to your lips.
You stop moving entirely, admiring her from your position beneath her, trying to mentally engrave the way the light highlighted the honey streaks in her hair into your memory. Your eyes dart down once to her slightly parted lips before glancing up to her eyes, the expression in them unreadable.
"I- I won!" Paige gets off you in a hurry, moving away quickly to smooth her shirt down in your bedroom mirror.
"Yeah yeah whatever" You say back, hoping she didn't hear the shake in your voice. You press the back of your hands to your cheeks. They're warm.
Paige doesn't stay long after that, saying she needs to get some homework done, and you just sit alone in your bedroom after she's left, playing back the moments to yourself.
What the hell was that?
---
Authors Note: Thank you guys so much for the love on the first chapter <3. Paige and y/n gamer losers, this is true.
Trilogy: Part 3: here
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#uconn#wlw#uconn womenâs basketball#uconn huskies#uconn wbb#fanfic#friends to lovers#slow burn#Spotify#paige bueckers fic
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Brave
Summary: The sudden loss of someone in your family leaves you broken. Natasha tries to help.
A/N: Special thanks to @happychopshoppenguin for helping me to sort out ideas for this plot.
It was a regular day for the Avengers.
Mission, explosions, fighting some bad guys and then fly back in the Quinjet.
âFuryâs gonna be madâ Clint taunts, looking at you.
âHe didnât say how to stop them from sharing the drive with the Chineseâ you smile, thinking that blowing up their entire control room was a bit much. But, you were in a hurry to finish the mission and go home.
Clint rolls his eyes and steers the Quinjet.
âAlright, itâs gonna be at least seven hours. Go get some sleep, dynamite. Tasha, you ok?â
Natasha had been quiet, which was nothing new around you. To most people, it was probably the contrast in personalities; while the Russian was reserved, you were very outgoing.
Youâd hope it was just that, and not that she disliked you. After a few attempts at conversation that turned cold, you decided to be cordial, but give her space.
Right now, sheâs sitting in the back of the Quinjet, no visible injuries. But still, her hand is over her ribs, and she seems to be deep in thought.
You know whatâs happening and that sheâd never ask for help.
âDo you need to clean any wounds? Iâll take over the Quinjet while you doâ you offer to Clint and he shakes his head no. Walking to the first aid kit, you pull out a bottle of water, painkillers and a pack of ice. Youâre about to walk to sit next to Natasha, when you bring a hand to your forehead.
âGreat. Blood and sooth. I must stinkâ placing the first aid stuff next to her, you mumble to yourself about taking a quick shower.
By the time you come out, Natasha has already taken a pill, and has the ice pack over her bruised ribs. Her eyes are closed, and much as youâd like to stare, you go sit next to Clint, hoping to get home soon.
â
Maria is waiting on the hangar when you land.
âTold yaâ Clint mocks and you turn to glare at him.
âDid you snitch on me, Barton?â
âY/Nâ Maria says, and her tone alone erases your smile.
âWhatâs wrong?â you say, going over every possible scenario. This is your last mission before a two week break to go back home. âIs itâŚ?â
Your mom was supposed to have surgery. But she was fine. It couldnât beâŚ
âIâm sorryâ
Itâs as if a bucket of ice cold water was poured over your head. Your hands are so numb, you canât feel Natasha taking one of them, her arm around your shoulders.
â
Itâs been a week. Natasha tries not to think about you, mainly because thereâs nothing she can do to help.
And itâs none of her business when (or if) you come back. Still, she feels a certain heaviness in her movements as she makes her morning coffee.
You always made enough for the two of you. And it tastes so much better than the one Natasha makes.
âIs Y/N around?â Maria walks in, looking for you.
âI thought she was still with her familyâ
âShe came back earlier. It didnât⌠it sounded bad. Like a family disagreement had happened on top of everything elseâ Maria sighs.
âDo you know what it was?â
âAll I know is that her motherâs condition had been bad for a while⌠and then they did emergency surgery but her heart was too weakâ
Natasha nods in silence, imagining how hard it must be for you. How your mother always sent something she knitted for everyone on the team on their birthdays, or how your parents would fly to visit at least once a month.
âIf you see her, will you let me know? I just want to make sure sheâs alrightâ
âOf courseâ
â
No one saw you, not even for movie night. Itâs not like the team was expecting you, but it was quiet as the movie played on the screen, and only Sam seemed to be paying attention.
Natasha looks at the table in the middle of the room.
You always got her Dr. Pepper. Her guilty pleasure, a little indulgence in her life of strict physical activity and healthy meals.
This time, thereâs only beer that no one bothers to drink. A headache threatens to sour her mood even more, but the cupboard with medical supplies is almost empty.
Thatâs how everything feels without you around.
Natasha had hoped youâd be at the staff meeting next Monday, but everyone took a seat, your chair remained empty.
âWe have to do somethingâ Steve says, looking around. His eyes meet Mariaâs.
âWell, sheâs been going on solo missionsâ
âAnd you think thatâs a good idea?â Barton challenges, clearly annoyed. Would it be so hard for Fury to give a damn about his team?
âListen, any one of you is welcomed to join her but I donât thinkâŚâ
âIâll goâ Natasha says.
âGood. Maybe she needs some⌠girl talkâ Steve says and everyone laughs for the first time in weeks.
âYes, weâll braid our hair while we wait for the bad guys, Steveâ Natasha mocks.
âNice one, Capsicleâ Tony says.
Truth be told, Natasha wasnât expecting such a strong reaction when you saw her at the hangar.
âIâm on solo duty, Natashaâ you say without looking at her, getting inside the small aircraft.
âFuryâs ordersâ the redhead lies, following you. She almost crashes against your back as you stop and turn around.
âIf youâre coming, I donât want to hear any scolding or complains. Iâm running this operationâ
âThatâs fine by meâ
Either way, from what she read on the file, it was only information extraction. And yet, you were gone for thirty minutes, after she successfully hacked into the database.
âWhere the hell have you been?â Natasha scolds, forgetting about her previous promise.
âCan you get us on the air? Iâll take over in a minuteâ you answer, your face evidently beaten up, as one of your eyes was starting to swell.
Natasha is torn between concern and anger, but she figures it is better to talk to you once theyâre away from the enemy. With a sigh, she starts the engine and sets the coordinates of the Compound.
A spot on the floor catches her eye.
Blood. A lot of it.
âY/N?â she stands up, looking around. Following the trail of blood, she opens up the door to the small bathroom. She sees you, your uniform torn around your thigh, a gash exposed. âOh my God!â
âEver tried knocking?â you say, without looking at her. Next thing you do is use the surgical stapler to close the wound, not caring to use anesthesia.
âYou need stitchesâ
âIâm fineâ you stand up, taking off the top of your uniform. Natasha spots bruises that are just starting to heal.
Maybe thatâs why the medical supplies were gone the other day.
âY/NâŚâ
âIf youâre not gonna fly, Iâm taking overâ you walk towards the cabin, and she stands there, looking at all the blood that you left behind.
What the hell is she gonna tell Maria when you come back?
Thereâs a moment of silence as you land the Quinjet. You hope that Natasha will not even start about your injury, so you wait for her to leave.
âY/N?âÂ
âIâm fine, Natashaâ
âIâm worriedâ she admits in a low voice, which catches you off guard. Youâve never thought she cared enough, not about you at least.
âIâll stop going on missions until Iâm betterâ
She wants to tell you itâs not enough, because an injury isnât the issue here. But Natasha also recognizes when sheâs about to cross a boundary.Â
So, she just nods and leaves the hangar. The feeling of defeat comes with her as youâre left alone on the jet.
â
Another Monday, another staff meeting.Â
To everyoneâs surprise, youâre the last through the door. Steve sits up, but the rest of the team just looks at you, afraid that saying anything else might scare you away.
For your part, you ignore everyone but Natasha, placing a paper bag from her favorite bakery in front of her.Â
She smiles at you, because itâs something you always do on Monday meetings. This time, you donât mutter your usual excuse of being around the bakery first thing in the morning. You do give a little smile in return, and Natasha tries to ignore the warm feeling she gets from the gesture.
âEveryone, have a seatâ Maria says, trying to pretend she isnât surprised to see you as well. âWe have word of a HYDRA base storing potentially dangerous technology. Itâs big enough to send the whole teamâ
âSurely some of us could stay behind if weâre not up for itâ Barton says, avoiding your eyes. Heâs the only one that knows about what happened on your mission with Natasha.Â
âItâs not ideal, but if anyone wants out, speak now. Very wellâ, she continues after a beat of silence. âHereâs the map of the facility. You leave in an hourâ
â
The mission was completed.Â
Barely.Â
Youâre holding a gauze against your side, to stop the bleeding from a bullet graze. Furyâs been called to go over what happened.Â
He doesnât seem pleased.
âYou better do something about herâ Tony says, his finger pointing at you.
âStarkâ Barton warns but you donât even react to his confrontation.
âNo, I donât want to hear it. If she wants to go and get killed, thatâs her deal. But we were just about done with the mission when she decides to fight a dozen HYDRA agents on her ownâ
âWe need to calm downâ Steve says.
âNo, there was a town a few miles south and HYDRA had nuclear warheads. Have we learned nothing? This could have been catastrophicâÂ
âBut it wasnât, soâŚâ
âIf you have some mommy issues to deal with, do it on your free time. Iâm not gonna burden myself with civilian deaths over your traumaâÂ
âTony!â Steve reprimands, standing up. Theyâre so busy facing each other, they never see you approaching. You throw a punch that hits Stark square in the eye, followed by another one that breaks his nose.
âSay that again, you fucking assholeâ you shout, throwing a kick that never lands. It takes Steve and Bucky to hold you back. âTalk shit, Stark, see what happensâÂ
âThatâs enough. Youâre suspended, effective immediatelyâ Fury says.
âIâll do you one better. I quitâ you push Rogers and Bucky away, not bothering to look at the rest of your teammates.Â
Itâs better this way.
â
Itâs not hard to find you. Being a professional spy works in Natashaâs favor, but youâre basically bouncing from your apartment to the bar around the corner.
Sit and drink.
Thatâs all you do from the moment you walk in, around noon and then you leave past midnight. Before going up your apartment, you stop by the bodega to get another bottle of whatever cheap booze they have and call it a night.
Natasha looks from across the street, debating between going inside and talking to you or just going home.
What can she tell you to make it all better?
Thatâs the question she asks herself all week, and come Friday Natasha still doesnât have an answer.Â
The bar is crowded and the redhead figures itâs safe enough to go inside without being spotted.
Youâre in your usual spot, leaning against the bar while sitting on a stool. The loud music and conversations make you dizzy, but you still ask for another scotch and drink half of it in one gulp.
âAre you moving anytime soon?â a twenty something year old pops out of nowhere and you donât even look his way. âWe want to sit at the bar and watch the game, Iâm sure you can go be a sad drunk somewhere elseâ
âFuck offâ you say after finishing your drink and asking for another one. When they give it to you, the idiot knocks it from your hand.Â
âYou have ten seconds to apologize or leaveâ you rub your temples, thinking how much worse your headache will be after kicking his ass.
âI donât think soâ he says, throwing a punch at you. Even with all you drank, youâre able to avoid his fist, knocking him down in one swift motion.
âCrapâ you kinda forgot he was not alone. Three more guys show up, and while youâre busy blocking some kicks, one of them manages to punch you in the face. You fall to the ground, feeling a kick to your side and a fist that connects with your nose.
At this point, you give up, thinking that getting your ass kicked in a bar is just as effective as drinking the day away.
But the next attack never comes. In fact, all three men are down.
âGet upâ you hear someone say.Â
It sounds like Natasha.
You try to stand, but thereâs a pain in your side. Before you can collapse on the ground, arms go around your waist and help you stand, walking side by side all the way to your apartment.
The lavender scent and the gentle touch confirms itâs Natasha, and you try not to think about how much youâve missed her.
The redhead opens the door to your apartment, letting you down on the couch. You grunt as you sit, blood running down your nose and temple.
Yeah, this is going to be the worst hangover of your life.
âWhereâs your first aid kit?â Natasha says looking around the place.Â
You really did miss her and the thought finally breaks you.
âWhatâs wrong? Where does it hurt?â Natasha kneels in front of you the minute you let out a sob, tears mixing with the blood.
âItâs not worth it, Nat. Iâm not worth the trouble. You should goâ you plead, overwhelmed at the guilt thatâs been consuming you for weeks now.
âWhat are you talking about?âÂ
âShe kept asking for me. When they were at the hospital. She wanted to see me, she was scared and in pain and I wasnât there. My mother died and I didnât get to say goodbyeâÂ
âY/NâŚâ
âWhat kind of person does that? How can you fail so badly to the people that loved you?âÂ
âYou didnât failâ
âYes, I didâ you say, struggling to breathe.
âYou didnât. Itâs okâ Natasha tries to calm you, her hands going through your hair until your breathing evens out.Â
The rush of adrenaline leaves your body, and pretty soon, youâre slumped against the couch, Natashaâs hands still in yours.
â
Thereâs light. And pain.
A different kind than the one youâve had. As you sit up, you feel your bruised ribs and when you grimace, the split lip reminds you your face didnât fare any better during your fight.
NatashaâŚ
âHow are you feeling?â you turn to find the woman standing in the middle of your kitchen.Â
âLike shitâ you reply and she chuckles.
âThereâs some coffee. Itâs not as good as the one you make, but it will do. I should goâ she sets her cup down, sighing.
âYou donât have toâŚâ you want her to stay. But you donât know what will happen if you ask her.
âI do, actuallyâ she walks towards the door, but you endure the pain to meet her at the threshold.Â
âNatâ
âNoâ she shakes her head, without looking back at you. âYou have no idea how hard it is to watch someone you love hurt themselvesâ
The word love echoes, making you take a step back.
Natasha turns to look at you, a tear rolling down her cheek.
âI guess you were bound to find out eventuallyâ
âNatashaâ you plead, not knowing what to say.
âNo, I donât want to hear it. I wonât go into this when youâre going through hell and all iâve done is watch you from afar. I guess I just want you to knowâŚâ she wipes the tears and looks at you. âYou buy my favorite brand of peanut butter. You wake up one hour before I do, but the coffee is done only when Iâm up. My water bottle is always full and cold before going to the gym. You charge my phone when I forget to, and when itâs late and Iâm still working you stop by and tell me you made too much pasta just so I eat somethingâŚ. Youâre not a bad person. Youâre wonderful and I wish I could have told you sooner. Iâm sorryâ Natasha turns around and leaves.
You donât stop her this time.
â
Itâs been three days and Natasha hasnât heard from you. To be fair, she said a lot of things and didnât wait for you to reply, so that might have been a bad idea.
Talking to Clint might be the only solution and sheâs looking for him when you leave the conference room, followed by Maria and Steve.
Tony approaches you from the other side and Natasha waits around the corner.
âIâm sorry about what I saidâ Stark says and you nod.
âFair enough. Not sorry about punching you, thoughâ
âFair enoughâ he repeats, smiling.
When they all leave, you turn back, your eyes meeting Natashaâs.
âHiâ you approach her, hands inside your pockets.
âHow are you feeling?â
âSoberâ
âThatâs goodâ
âMhmâ you nod, holding her stare. Your eyes travel to her lips and you sigh. âCan we talk?â
âWe donât have toâŚâ
âI wanna show you something. It wonât take long, I promise. What do you say?â you offer your hand and she stares at it for a second.
When Natasha nods and takes it, you hold her tight, leading her out of the Compound.
â
âShe loved Central Parkâ you remember, walking around the benches, Natashaâs hand still in yours. âThe whole city, reallyâ
âShe liked it because you live here, I thinkâ Natasha says and you nod.
âWell, that and the pizzaâ
âRightâ the redhead nods. You find a bench and lead her to it, pointing at the plaque.
Love is only for the brave, followed by your motherâs name.
âIs something she said often. Figured it might be nice to have it here, for people to read and gather courageâ
âThatâs a beautiful way to remember herâ Natasha nods, aware that youâre moving closer.
âI didnât get a chance to tell you what I thought back at my place, NatâÂ
âYou donât need to explain anythingâ she interrupts, giving you a way out.
âI didnât think you liked me that much. And I absolutely thought I was being more discreet about my feelings for youâÂ
âItâs hard for me to think that love makes you brave⌠or strongâ Natasha says, taking a step forward so youâre inches apart.Â
âI know. Please let me show you?â
âI think Iâd like thatâ she nods, leaning forward until your lips meet in a short kiss.
When you break apart, you remember that time your mother visited. How she insisted Natasha looked at you in a special way.Â
âWhatâs so funny?â Natasha asks against your lips when you smile.
âI love youâ you say and she pulls you closer.
Everything will be ok, as long as you have each other.
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stop the world just to stop the feeling
The night before Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck and Eddie talk on a balcony. | 1.5k | buddie | ao3
Eddieâs just uncapped his second beer when he hears footsteps behind him, so familiar he recognizes who it is by sound alone.
âHey,â he says, as Buck sidles into view, arms coming to rest on the balcony railing beside him. Heâs got a drink in his hand, too - one of those fruity vodka seltzers that Eddieâs reluctantly started stocking in the bottom drawer of his fridge. âCouldnât sleep?â
Buck fiddles with the tab on his can, the silver of it reflecting in the moonlight. âSomething like that.â
His shirt is slightly too big, slipping down just enough to expose the sharp jut of his collarbone, the dark bruise forming on the edge of it. Eddieâs eyes fly to it without permission, and Buck flushes red.Â
âItâll be covered by the suit tomorrow, promise.â
âMm.â Eddie takes another sip of his beer, ignoring the sour way it curdles in his stomach. âGood. Think Chimâs one incident away from going full groomzilla.â
âCan you blame him?â
âNot at all,â Eddie admits, and Buck huffs a laugh. âYou should have been me the night before Shannon and I got married. I was a wreck.â
Heâd been alone, in the shitty little apartment theyâd rented once they learned about Christopher, Shannon spending the night at her momâs across town to help them cling to some ragged sense of propriety that neither of them truly believed in. It had been one of the most awful, stomachache-inducing nights heâd ever had up to that point in his life, and it wasnât until he saw Shannon in the church the next day, glowing in a way that had nothing to do with the bump hidden under the folds of her white dress, that everything had finally clicked into place.
âHi,â she had said, reaching out to squeeze his hand, and Eddie had let out a breath he hadnât realized heâd been holding.
Buckâs staring at him now, as if he can sense the myriad emotions playing out in Eddieâs head. âItâs so weird,â he says. âMaddie and Chimney have basically been married for a while now. But all of this just makes it feel so real.â He gestures a hand at the expansive hotel grounds, the ocean beyond. âI mean, my parents are here.â
Eddie knows. Eddie had done an exceptional job at ignoring them at the rehearsal dinner that night, tucked in the corner by himself, Marisol having gone to their room earlier with a headache.
He feels a brief, guilty flash about leaving her alone now, although sheâd been snoring when heâd crept past Chris on the sofa bed and out into the light of the hallway. He wonders, idly, if he should have left a note.
âThey seem to be behaving,â he offers, which is about all of the goodwill heâs able to give the Buckley parents at any given time. Buck makes a face at him, and he adds, half-teasing, âfor now.â
As far as he knows, they havenât said a word so far to Buck about Tommy. He should probably ask, but somehow he canât make his mouth form the words.
Buck drums his fingers against the balcony, quiet. âDo you ever think about it?â
What, fighting your parents? Eddie almost jokes, but he knows thatâs not what Buckâs asking. âAbout getting married again?â
âOr getting married at all,â Buck says, and thereâs something in his face, something suspiciously like longing, that has Eddie taking another gulp of his beer. âLike, big reception, flowers. The whole nine yards.â
âI wouldnât do a big reception,â Eddie says, shuddering. âJust in the backyard, or something.â
Buck cracks a smile. âYou do have a nice backyard.â
âYouâre just saying that because you did all the landscaping,â Eddie says, bumping their shoulders together. âI had to weed it the other day though, so I should at least get partial credit.â
Buck looks sheepish at that, which wasnât what Eddie was going for, but also wasnât not what he wanted to happen. âI meant to come do it this week, Iâve just been -â
âBusy,â Eddie finishes for him, which isnât fair, not really. Not when Buck is still over at his house most days, not when he hasnât missed a single one of his afternoons out with Christopher. Itâs just that thereâs now a new purple marker in his kitchen, carefully outlining Buckâs availability on the calendar.
Eddieâs never had to schedule Buck in before. Not with Taylor, or Natalia, or even Ali, way back when.Â
Combine that with the fact that Buckâs now asking about marriageâŚ
Eddie drains the last of his beer. âYou should get some sleep. Youâve got a big day tomorrow.â
âYeah,â Buck agrees, but stays where he is, shoulder still pressed against Eddieâs. âHey - uh. Weâre good, right?â
âBuck, youâve already apologized.â And grovelled, and apologized again, until Eddie was back from medical leave and working with the 118 again.
âNot about that.â Buck shakes his head, the movement bringing him closer to Eddie still, their forearms nearly overlapping on the railing. âI mean - about me. And Tommy, I guess.â
And Eddie - Eddie will be the first to admit it took him a second to come to terms with it, to fully wrap his head around the idea of Buck with a man and, more specifically, Buck with Tommy. But heâd hugged Buck, and stumbled his way through some approximation of support, and then gone home and researched until his eyes were burning and heâd bookmarked every tab he could find about bisexuality and being a good ally - so. He thinks heâs been doing okay, overall. Certainly not poorly enough to make Buck question if heâs been harbouring secret homophobic tendencies all this time.
âYou know Iâm good with that,â he says, and means it. âAnd you and Tommy seem - really good. So if youâre happy, Iâm happy.â
Buckâs eyebrows crinkle together, and Eddie has to resist the fanatical urge to reach over and smooth them out. âI know. I know you are. But something else just seems - wrong.â
âWith me?â
âWith us,â Buck says, voice veering toward frustration. âCome on, Eddie. You know you feel it too.â
Something thumps in Eddieâs chest, like his heart is suddenly trying to beat out of his chest. âBuck, I promise nothingâs changed-â
âBut something has,â Buck says. âAnd I donât know what, and itâs driving me insane, and every time Iâm at work or at the gym or even with Tommy-â Wait, what? Eddie thinks, panicked -  âIâm lost in my own head, wondering how the fuck I managed to mess up the most important relationship in my life.â
âYou didnât fuck anything up,â Eddie says, honest. âNo one did. Itâs just - growing pains. Youâre in a relationship, Iâm in a relationship - itâs natural that we maybe donât come first for each other anymore.â
Buck stares at him, the corner of his eyes suspiciously red. âWe both know you donât actually believe that.â
He doesnât, but theyâre veering into dangerous territory now. âBuck-â
âWhy is it different now?â Buck says. âWeâve both dated people at the same time before. Taylor and Ana, Marisol and Natalia. Why is this different?â
Eddie doesnât feel like heâs capable of breathing. âBuck-â
âItâs not because Iâm with Tommy,â Buck says, raking a hand through his hair. âOr that Iâm bi. Itâs not actually any of it, is it, Eddie?â
He doesnât sound angry, just - resigned. Tired. The beer bottle is clammy against Eddieâs palm.Â
âYou never answered my question earlier,â Buck says. âAbout if you would get married again.â
When Eddie speaks, his voice feels like sandpaper. âMaybe. If it was the right person.â
âIs Marisol the right person?â
âIs Tommy?â
Buck flinches, minuscule. âI asked first.â
âYou know what my answer is, Buck,â Eddie says, and heâs tired, so tired.Â
âYou know mine too,â Buck says, soft.
He does know. Just like he knows Buckâs favourite song, favourite dinner, favourite feel-good rom-com. Just like he knows that Buck will spend all of tomorrow night dancing with Tommy, but heâll save one dance for Christopher, spinning him around the middle of the room while Eddie watches. Just like how he knows -
âEddie,â Buck says, and Eddie realizes how close they are now, facing each other with the moon still high overhead, lips a hairsbreadth apart. âWe canât.â
Eddie can feel Buckâs exhale against his lips. âI know,â he says. Taking a step back feels like swimming against a riptide, but he manages to get his limbs to cooperate eventually. âWe should head back in.â
Buck swallows, chin bobbing as he nods. âYeah. Iâll - uh. See you tomorrow?â
Thereâs something here, slipping out of Eddieâs grasp. He doesnât think either of them knows quite how to cling on to it.Â
âSee you tomorrow,â he echoes, and then Buckâs turning toward the door, back to the hallway thatâll lead him to his room, to Tommy in his bed.
Eddie waits until heâs fully out of sight before he follows.
also on ao3!
---
tags: @leothil @sibylsleaves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @deformed-globule @cantyouseethatyouresmotheringme @silassstingy
#911 abc#911 fic#buddie fic#buddie#911fic#they don't solve anything in this. in fact they make it worse! but it's ok#pour one out for eddie folks who among us hasn't been pining miserably after their best friend#myfic
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The bucktommy mpreg brainrot is so real wtf. I never thought in a million years I'd write an mpreg fic and well,,,
Here's my latest wip
Tommy was sitting on the bathroom floor next to the toliet again, crying for no reason again. He was so sick of the spontaneous crying and worse he didnât even know why he was crying. Tommy had cried after the break-up, but heâd mostly stopped after two-ish weeks. He was sick of feeling the way heâd felt all week- horrifically nauseous and tired no matter how much he slept.
Tommy was so caught up in his wallowing and his crying that he didnât hear Lucy enter the house, didnât notice her standing in the doorway to the ensuite. He only noticed her when she set a plastic bag from a drug store down at his feet.
Tommy sniffled and looked up at Lucy. âIâm starting to regret giving you a key.â He wiped the tears off his cheeks.
âIs it really so terrible having someone look out for you?â Lucy crossed her arms.
Tommy was quiet.
âThought so.â Lucy nodded.
Tommy curiously reached for the bag and looked inside.
âFirst time ever for me, the women's version of something was cheaper than the mens version. Itâs the exact same thing, just different colored packaging.â Lucy said nonchalantly.
Tommy hardly registered what Lucy was saying as he plucked the box out of the bag. A three pack of pregnancy tests. In an instant it felt like his world had been flipped on itâs axis.
There was no way this was actually happening, but if he was- if Lucy was right about this, it would make sense. The headaches, the fatigue, the random crying, the nausea and vomiting- morning sickness. Now that Tommy thought about it, it seemed like his sense of smell had maybe been heightened the last week or so too.
âIf Iâm way out of line here Tommy, just tell me, itâs fine. Iâll keep âem for next time I have a scare.â Lucy offered.
Tommy swallowed thickly. His mind and heart were racing. This couldnât be happening.
âTommy?â Lucy prompted.
âI donât know.â Tommy said quietly. Clearly Lucy had been thinking about this at least since they were on the phone not that long ago. Her suggestion to drink something made even more sense now. Tommy couldnât believe this was his life.
âWhat- what do you mean you donât know?â Lucy asked.
âI never uh, I never got tested to see if Iâm a carrier.â Tommy couldn't take his eyes off the box of pregnancy tests.
âYouâre joking right?â Lucy sounded shocked or maybe even pissed.
Tommy shook his head.
âHow could you be so irresponsible?â Lucy questioned. âYou- I canât believe you never got tested. I can understand not getting tested as a kid with your dad being the way he is but Tommy, youâre- you sleep with men! How could you not get tested?â
Tommy spoke with a monotone voice, head clearly elsewhere. âParents never bothered. Then I was in denial about being gay and thought I could make myself fall in love with a woman. Then it didnât matter because I was never serious enough to ditch condoms. Then it didnât matter when I was serious enough to ditch condoms because I was almost exclusively the top and I was too old. The thought never even crossed my mind in all the time I was with Evan.â
âOh my god Tommy.â Lucy mumbled.
âI know.â Tommy swallowed thickly. âI guess I have to take one of these now, huh?â
âIâd recommend all three, actually.â Lucy told him. âThese things arenât the most reliable, always a chance of false negatives or positives, so itâs best to take more than one test but if you take two and get two different results then you wonât feel any better or worse than you did before taking them, until you take another. So three at once.â
âSounds like you know from experience.â Tommy looked up at Lucy.
âIâm a woman who does not exclusively sleep with other women.â Lucy shrugged.
Lucy left the bathroom so Tommy could take the tests, and as soon as he was finished he set them on the counter, opened the door for Lucy, started a timer, and sat back down on the floor again, not confident that he wasnât going to throw up again at any moment.
Lucy came in and sat next to Tommy on the floor. Just by looking at him she could tell he wasnât in the mood to talk and for the time being she knew everything she needed to know. Tommy hadnât even thought about the possibility of this so Lucy was certain that Tommy had no idea what heâd want to do about it- if Tommy was pregnant it was undoubtedly Evanâs, and Tommy was scared and heartbroken right now. Instead of talking Lucy just took his hand and held onto it.
Three minutes felt like an eternity, and if it wasnât for Lucy holding onto Tommyâs hand, he was sure he wouldâve completely lost his grip on reality. He distantly heard the timer on his phone going off, followed by Lucy giving his hand a squeeze. Tommy stopped the timer. He couldnât look at the tests. He couldnât move. âCan you look?â He rasped.
âOf course.â Lucy said gently. She stood, not letting go of Tommyâs hand and looked at the tests on the counter. There were two visual tests and one digital test with a weeks along indicator.
The visual tests both showed plus signs, meaning the tests were positive.
The digital test read âPregnant 3+â, meaning three or more weeks along.
âLuce?â Tommyâs grip on her hand tightened.
âPositive.â Lucy told him.
âAll of them?â Tommy wondered.
âAll three.â Lucy nodded.
Tommy nodded slowly. âOkay.â He whispered as tears stung his eyes and quickly began to fall.
Lucy squeezed Tommyâs hand and returned to her spot on the floor next to him.
Tommy pulled his knees to his chest, rested the arm that wasnât holding Lucyâs hand on his knees, put his head down, and sobbed for so many reasons it felt like there wasnât even a reason to be crying at all.
#bucktommy#evan buckley#tommy kinard#lucy donato#911 fanfic#bucktommy fanfic#current wip#mpreg#pregnant tommy kinard#angst#tommy and lucy bestie-ism
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hi hello, if you have the chance, could u write a ghost x reader of an overworked/ burnt out reader who faints or something. just stressed out overprotective ghost to warm our hearts <3
thank you so much xxx
Bone Tired
Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort ; Fluff
Ghost knows she's been pushing herself but he didn't think it was this bad. She nearly gives him a goddamn heart attack by collapsing right in front of him.
"Don't make me tie you to the bed."
"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out.
Masterlist
Just because they weren't deployed on a mission didn't mean things were any less busy for them back at base. Drills, morning runs, training, paperwork, and more; there was always something to keep them busy.
"Focus." The low timber of his voice snaps her out of her thoughts, dragging her back to the present. "I would've incapacitated you three times by now." Ghost says with a frown. Or at least she thinks he's frowning under that mask. He sure sounds like it.
"Yeah, sorry L.T." She blinks, widening her stance and dragging her tired mind to attention. Everything just felt...off. Her clothes were too itchy, the bright fluorescent lights hanging from the room were too prickly, and the training mat under her feet felt difficult to get her footing into. Maybe she was catching a bug? She'd been feeling mildly feverish the past few days, after all, sporting a headache she opted to power through with painkillers.
Grunts and groans and jeers echo around them as others take their turn to spar with each other. She'd already lost against Gaz once, a rare outcome in itself, and now she was pretty sure Ghost was going easy on her. She's surprised she isn't face-first on the mat right now, actually.
Blinking away the knowledge that her arms feel like lead and her mind foggy, she lunges at him with her fist, an attack easily parried and side stepped by the man.
In all honestly, she's known for a while that she needed a proper break. A few days to herself full of nothing. The last op she'd been on had been long and gruelling, a solo one at that, weeks' worth of trekking through a mountain range far south in the cold to get to an isolated camp where their target had been laying low. It was a success, but she swears she can still feel the snow bite into her flesh if she thinks too hard about it.
The moment she'd got back there had been debriefings with Price to attend, files to be reported to Laswell, all the while keeping up with her usual routine and drills...
Her eyes widen as she's spun around, an arm circling her throat and pinning her in a hold.
"You're sloppy." Ghost clicks his tongue from behind her, and if she were any less exhausted, maybe she would have felt a shiver go down her spine.
Here, they were just soldiers, but in private? That's a whole other story. Their relationship had to be kept under wraps for a multitude of reasons, but Simon was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Having someone who understood her work, who shared the experience and knew exactly what she was talking about, who knew the best ways to comfort and listen and advise her...it was rare.
A rare and beautiful thing, that's what they had. They helped each other grow, made up for the others weaknesses and blind spots.
But they weren't in private right now, so after she taps his arm to concede, he pushes her away, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Are you ill?" He asks tightly, eyes going up and down her body as if he could detect whatever was making her pause. She'd seemed fine the last time he saw her, but clearly something was wrong if she was this...dazed?
She shakes her head. "Just didn't sleep well last night." She lies through her teeth. She couldn't afford to be sick right now, couldn't afford the luxury of wasting time resting. She still had to report to Laswell, attend a meeting on what the next steps were to reach their targets close contacts. Then she promised Soap she'd hit the shooting range with him, and then Gaz asked her to help him with that paperwork he had to fill out...
Taking a step back, she stumbles a little.
It all bubbles up inside her, overwhelming and insurmountable, a mountain of work that keeps piling up to reach new heights and-
Was Ghost talking? She blinks, trying to get the ringing out of her ears. It was loud and annoying, and it made the headache she'd been sporting since yesterday stronger.
Ghost's eyes widen. He's definitely saying something. She hopes Simon knows she wasn't ignoring her on purpose. She was always good at reading him, so maybe if her vision would stop spotting and focus, she could actually see his eyes properly and figure out what was wrong.
In the end, the roaring in her ears becomes deafening, to the point where she squeezes her eyes shut. How easy would it be to just...stay like this. Just for one moment. To revel in the nothingness of the dark, where she got just one second of silence away from the list of things she had to keep doing.
Just one more moment.
Another step back, an unsteady sway.
She hits the ground hard, the last thing she hears being the yell of her name from that familiar, rough voice.
                 ¡ ¡ âââââââ ¡đĽ¸Âˇ âââââââ ¡ ¡
Bleary eyes blink themselves awake, squinting against the warm glow of the lamp by her bedside table. Groaning, she attempts to sit up, only to widen her eyes in alarm when a hand firmly pushes her back.
Instincts kicking in, her hand flies up to latch onto the wrist in a weak grip.
"It's just me." The low voice has her relaxes instantly, hand falling away onto the bed.
"Simon." She says, surprised when her voice doesn't come out as more than a whisper. "Where...what happened?" She winces at the throbbing in her head as she takes in the scene. Simon settled down in a chair next to her, a book laying open faced on her side table.
"You passed out." He says, plainly worried. "The medics said you fainted from exhaustion. Ain't that something to explain, love?" Now that he's ditched the mask, she can see the creases of worry in his forehead, the downwards quirk of his lips. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."
"Passed out?" She echoes, trying to remember. "I...guess I did."
She sure feels like it. Her body feels like lead, as if it's doing everything it can to ensure she stays in bed. Shivering slightly, she looks around for another blanket. When she reaches for the fluffy duvet folded at the foot of her bed, it's immediately snatched out of reach by Simon.
"Give it." She demands, reaching a hand out.
"You have a fever." Simon shakes his head, holding the item out of reach. "It'll break quicker this way."
"I'm fine." She protests, managing to sit up this time under his unimpressed stare. "I'm alright, Simon. Can't afford to be sick right now."
"That's not how it works." He sighs, standing up. "I thought I'd hurt you for a moment." She watches him walk towards the small table near the opposite wall, fiddling with something there while he talked. "Damn near took a year of my life away with how you crumpled onto the mat."
"It wasn't you." She assures him quickly. Some of the tension visibly drains from his shoulder in what she can only assume is relief. Needless as it is, she feels a little guilty. How long had he been thinking her passing out had been his fault? No, this was on her, on her busy schedule and-
Wait, what time was it?
Dread curls up in her gut as she slowly turns towards the small window. The lamp was on when she woke up, of course it was night.
"I was just tired is all." She says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "But I'm as fresh as a daisy now, and I've got so much shit to do." She lets out an anxious, long breath as her brain kicks in, charting how much time she'd lost, how quickly she'd need to work to get it all done-
"I have that meeting with Laswell...I wonder if Price thinks I just didn't show up to his office..." She doesn't realise she's been muttering her thoughts aloud until Ghost cuts her off.
"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart." He declares over his shoulder. "Get your ass back in bed."
"I can't, there's too much I have to do today." She protests. "And I've already lost half the day-"
"I wasn't asking."
"Simon-" He turns around and she finally sees what he's been doing.
"Don't make me tie you to the bed." His threat is much less effective when he's holding one of her mugs that says 'Bad Bitch' in obnoxious neon pink calligraphy, the phrase surrounded by a flowery border. She'd got it for him as a gag gift for his last birthday and had cackled at the dead, unimpressed stare he fixed her with. It had remained in his room for a while before she'd snatched it, claiming she'd actually appreciate it.
"Jokes on you, I'm into that." She snickers at the long-suffering sigh he lets out. Her laughs morph into a deep chest-rattling cough that wipes the smile off her face and leaves her wincing.
Sitting next to her after tossing the pillow onto the mattress, he brings the warm mug of tea up to her. "Easy does it." He mutters quietly when she grabs it from him and takes a drink.
"Thank you." She sighs, handing it back.
"Talk to me." He orders, not unkindly. Simon wasn't someone who was all lovey-dovey, but he loved just as hard and much as the next person. Just because he didn't choose to flourish it with pretty words and smiles doesn't mean she felt any less cared for.
He was a man of action, through and through.
Little touches throughout the day, silent glances checking in with her. Staying by her side during missions, working in tandem and recognising when she needed space versus when she needed him near.
He was her other half, and it had been eating away at him that he didn't fucking realise she was this unwell until the consequences caught up with her.
Ghost won't admit the primal flash of fear that struck through him when she'd crumpled to the ground like that. He thought he'd hurt her while sparring, that he'd done something to make her pass out like that. Even after the medics cleared her and he carried her here, tucked her in and everything, there was still a nagging worry of 'what-if' in his mind.
The relief of hearing her confirm it wasn't him was tainted by the knowledge that he hadn't noticed her pushing herself.
After a moment of deliberation, she gives in, tucking herself back into bed and thinking for a moment. She tells him everything, tells him how she hasn't had a second to herself in these past few days, telling him about the load she has on her shoulders and the crushing time limit ticking down in her ears for every task she had.
He listens quietly, to his credit, doesn't interrupt her even when she trails off, having to muster up the energy to keep going.
The fact that talking tired her out to this degree made his heart twist uncomfortably.
"I didn't think I had a choice but to take it all head on." She finishes, stifling a yawn. She looks up at him for his response when he doesn't talk, finds him staring at her with a half-lidded gaze, a furrow in his brow.
"Why didn't you ask me?"
"Ask you what?" She asks, confused.
"For help."
That was...a good question. It takes her a second to come up with a sheepish answer. "I...I didn't think of that." She admits, drawing out another quiet sigh from him.
"You're going to be the death of me." He grumbles, but she can't complain when he's gently tugging her to the side and climbing in with her under the covers. "I've sorted things out with Price and Laswell. Do whatever else you need to when you're capable of not face planting into the mats again."
A warm feeling of gratitude washes over her, her heart warming with the kind gesture. It was so...it was so Simon.
When he tangles their legs together and tucks her into his side, she wrinkles her nose. "I'm all sweaty." She tries to argue, tapping at his shoulder half-heartedly when he lays down with her, a strong arm around her waist pulling her in.
"I've had your blood on my hands before, I don't think sweat is going to be a problem." She can hear his voice rumble low in his chest, right under where he head rests, and she hides a smile in the fabric of his shirt.
When he runs a hand through her hair, she practically melts against him.
Eventually, her shivering stops, replaced with a bone-deep warmth that nothing could chase away. Simon. The warmth of him, of his care, of his love. She'd take it over a heatpack any day.
His arms around her make her relax. Nothing would nag at her, drag her away to chain her to a desk under Simon's watch, that much she knows. Safe. Protected. The feeling was rare living the life she did with her job, but Simon made it so easy to believe that she was untouchable as long as she was with him.
Before she knows it, her eyes flutter shut and her breathing evens out, because goddamn did the bastard know exactly where and how to touch her to get her all sleepy and relaxed.
"Thank you." She mumbles against him, words half incoherent.
"Always, love." He rumbles back, brushing his lips over her head.
Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!
(16/07/2023)
#fanfic#fanfiction#fluff#x reader#cod mw22#modern warfare fanfiction#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#ghost#cod ghost#ghost modern warfare#cod mw ghost#ghost simon riley#ghost mw2#mw2 ghost#ghost posts#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley fluff#x y/n#simon riley x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley#angst#simon riley x you#ghost x y/n#modern warfare x reader
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PROMISE MEâŚ!
âwhen you donât tell your boyfriend youâre sick and still perform!â
pairing: idol!bf!ricky x gn!idol!reader
genre: fluff, tiny angst (?)
warning: mention of headaches, blurry vision, nausea and similar symptoms, softie bf!ricky, thatâs it i think?
notes: ty to nonnie for requesting this!! i got a little carried away but i got into a pretty good flow writing it so i hope you enjoy đĽšđŤśđť also!! this is my first time writing idol!reader so i hope it feels somewhat realisticâŚ? as realistic as it can be i guess đľâđŤ
word count: 1.8k (đľâđŤ how and whyâŚ)
five, six, seven, eight.
five, six, seven, eight.
five, six, sevenâ
ây/n, are you okay?â the voice of your leader rips you out of your trance, your tired eyes meeting in the mirror. you nod and put on a bright, although fake smile in hopes of being reassuring, though youâre not sure you were being all too convincing â either way, none of your members pry, because they understand. they understand the need to push through, especially now with all these end of the year award shows happening; you simply canât afford to be sick, to fall behind and to be absent from such huge events. so, you decide to push through the dizziness, nausea and pain. youâll take some medication later, itâll be fine. (at least thatâs what youâre telling yourself when you catch yourself stumbling from the dizziness when you get ready to practice your solo entrance.) even though there is a silent understanding between you and your members, there still is one person you know you wonât be able to convince, no matter how hard youâll try â your boyfriend and professional overthinker in regards to your well-being, ricky.
itâs quite cute, the juxtaposition of his public image and the way he tends to worry. did you eat? does your throat hurt from vocal practice? did you trip during dance practice again? (a question thatâs especially annoying considering you told him about tripping once, roughly six months ago. he refuses to let it go.) he sends you teas and throat sprays to make sure your voice is taken care of, secretly checks the soles of your shoes to make sure they arenât getting slippery, somehow manages to pack you little snacks you can munch on when you havenât eaten anything before practice again. heâs very rarely stern, much too soft-spoken and gentle towards you to speak to you in a more serious manner when heâs worried, so he shows his care and love through these things â which makes you feel all the more guilty when you straight up have to lie to him when he asks if practice is going fine, if youâre feeling well, and letting you know how excited he (along with gyuvin, he mentions) is to see you perform in person up close.
you try your hardest to get better before the performance, you really do. well, as much as you can between hours and hours of practice and barely any sleep, at least. all your efforts seem to be in vain, though, because the day of the performance seems to be the worst day yet â if you had a choice, you would bury yourself under every blanket available and not leave your bed for at least a week, thatâs how awful you feel when you and your members are picked up from your dorm during the wee hours of the morning.
unfortunately, the little perfectionistic gremlin that lives at the back of your mind refuses to let all these weeks of practice go to waste, so you muster up a brave smile through your shaking pupils and tell your worrying members that you have everything under control â youâll smash this performance just like all the other ones, even if you have to do it while being a little dizzy. itâs no big deal, youâre a professional after all.
your stylists is making some last minute adjustments to your outfits when a gentle knock sounds through the room, a very familiar blonde head of hair popping in. you rush over to ricky, his arms snaking around you immediately. âhey, handsome,â you mutter as you observe his face, a small grin playing on his lips. âyouâre not looking to bad yourself, hm?â his voice is smooth as he brushes some of your hair out of your face, careful to not interfere with your hairstylistâs hard work. youâre thrown off your balance a little when another dizziness spell hits you out of nowhere, the look on rickyâs face immediately morphing into one of concern, âare you okay?â
you muster up a smile and just nod, eyes blinking rapidly to dispel the black dots bouncing around in your vision, âyeah, iâm just a little nervous,â you reach up to adjust his collar to avoid meeting his worried eyes, âiâm fine. just freaking out a little, thatâs all.â you can tell ricky doesnât entirely believe you, but he trusts that you would come to him if there was something wrong â so he reluctantly lets the subject go. he steals a quick kiss to your lips, whispering a âgood luck, i love you.â before he turns to leave to make any last preparations for his own performance.
your first wave of regret overcomes you when you stand ready beneath the stage, you and your members getting into position to perform the intro to your performance. your head feels like itâs about to split and your hands are shaky, but itâs too late to turn back now â as queen sunmi once said, the show must go on.
your second wave of regret comes when youâre actually on stage, all the lights, the music, the screams and your in-ear monitor feeling less like the dream youâve worked so hard to achieve and more like your own personal hell. your group having your own amazing entrance with one of the stage elevators excited you at first; unfortunately, right now youâre preoccupied with managing your expressions to make sure you wonât let any irritation or discomfort slip.
your third and final wave of regret comes when you stand in the middle of the stage in this massive venue, tens of thousands of eyes on you as you start to perform your solo part of the song â your head is pounding and you can barely hear your own voice through your in-ears anymore, your steps are shaky and imprecise, your vision is blurry. you manage to push through, somehow, but itâs clear in the way your chest is heaving once the lights go out that youâre not well.
the atmosphere is very much tense in the part of the audience where your fellow idols sit, all of them having to cover their very obvious concern with faux excitement â you pulled it off well enough, but itâs clear to every single one of them that youâre sick and that you probably should not have performed. ricky especially has to keep his expressions in check, because the mix of worry and concern but also frustration and maybe a little anger is raging heavily inside him right now.
the worry and concern are obvious, the last thing he wants to see is you being sick, much less performing in that state. the frustration is bubbling inside him because he knows that you know better, that even the chance of you hurting yourself even worse by performing while sick is enough reason to sit out one performance. the anger is entirely directed at your staff and maybe some of your members, your leader at least â they mustâve seen that you were unwell, no? and they still let you on stage? is that not what managers and leaders are for, to take matters into their own hands and to know whatâs best for their members? it all comes to a head when your members join the other idols in the audience while youâre nowhere in sight.
ricky is getting restless, his hands sprawling against his dress pants, occasionally pinching the fabric to keep his mind occupied. gyuvin and matthew both gave him little reassuring pats on his back but neither did much to comfort him, his mind entirely preoccupied with worrying about you and counting down the minutes to when he will finally be able to check up on you backstage.
itâs about an hour later when the award show is finally over, and for once ricky is the first one to rush backstage, a little ahead of all of his members. he swerves past staff and security and doesnât even bother knocking on your groupâs dressing room, ripping the door open to find your shocked but still very exhausted eyes staring up at him in surprise, âricky?â
heâs in front of you in the blink of an eye, squatting down to meet you eye-to-eye, his hands gently cradling your face, âare you okay? for real, this time?â his brows are furrowed and you feel a little bad for thinking that he looks pretty handsome all serious like this. you nod sheepishly, apology ready to spill from your lips when he squishes your cheeks together to silence you, âshhh, you listen to me. never do that again, okay? do you know how scary that was, watching you perform like that? what if something had happened, you know you couldâveâ,â he stumbles over his words a little, clearly worked up, âi donât know, fallen off stage or something. you couldâve fainted! or you couldâve broken something orâ i donât know, just, promise me, donât do that again.â rickyâs once so stern voice turns soft towards the end again, never really able to keep up his serious tone for long, especially towards you.
ââm sorry, just didnât want to let anyone down,â you mumble, leaning into his touch. his cold hands on your face feel incredibly nice, a stark contrast to your feverish face. he sighs and one of his hands comes up to brush your hair away from your face, his hand stroking your head softly, âi know, but still. donât do stuff like that, okay? talk to someone when youâre not feeling well. your managers, your members, me â thereâs so many people you can go to, okay? anyone, as long as you tell someone,â you nod along to him, and maybe itâs the guilt of making him worry so much or the fact that youâre overwhelmed from the amount of affection coming from him while youâre still a little delirious, but you feel like you need to lighten the atmosphere with a little joke.
âeven gyuvin?â the gentle expression on his face falls almost immediately, replaced by a very unimpressed stare. you break out into quiet giggles, muttering a âsorryâ before pressing a kiss to his cheek. ricky grumbles a little before getting back up, running his hand through your hair gently one last time. âi have to go back now but iâm ordering you some soup to your dorm later. youâre on bedrest for the next few days, you hear me?â he tries to sound stern again and puts on his best serious face, but his façade is broken when you smile up at him so tiredly, the exhaustion clear on your face.
âthank you, i love you,â you call after him when he turns to leave, ricky sending you a flying kiss before leaving the room, âlove you too.â
(your fourth wave of regret came when you realised ricky formed an alliance with your members, all of them exchanging ây/n intelâ to make sure all of them can keep an eye on you while youâre recovering.)
#zb1#zerobaseone#zb1 fluff#zb1 ricky#zerobaseone ricky#ricky fluff#ricky zb1#zb1 imagines#zb1 scenarios#zb1 x reader#zb1 reactions#zb1 drabbles#zb1 oneshots#ricky x reader#ricky imagines#ricky scenarios#zb1 ricky x reader#ricky shen#zb1 ricky imagines#zb1 ricky scenarios
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Kokushibo x Shy! Easily Flustered! Human! Reader
@opheliasadventures1 :- Kokushibo with a shy and easily flustered human reader!>:3
(Bonus points if kokushibo switched sides and is a good demon now!)
-
A/n :- I decided to give two little end bits of him remaining bad and the reader turning with him and him turning into a good boi, I also had maybe WAY too much fun writing this seeing as I worked on it for like 7 hours with a headache so please do enjoy lol, ik I did â¤ď¸âđĽ
Warnings :- Some small manipulation in 'you turn bad for him', you have a wide array of knowledge in flowers, language, gender neutral reader, no use of Y/n, mentions of blood
His Moon
Genuinely a mystery to how you got with this guy
Hell even Akaza when he met you was more concerned you were there against your will
Oh the stunned look when you were just all smiles (nervous ones at that) at them
You and Kokushibo had an interesting relationship to say the least
He was quite the bold character and had a sharp tongue to follow his demeanor
You on the other hand were just quiet and shy, soft spoken even, a sharp contrast to the Upper Moon
You quiet nature tho is something he very much enjoys
It lets him sit and think while he waits for the sun to rest for the night
Often during the days he sticks to just 1 or 2 rooms that are blacked out for him
When you step into either the rooms he could be in you often have a book in hand and a red face when his eyes meet yours
That just leads to you sitting in his lap and reading while he meditates
He'll help where he can around your home as well, he's not home often but when he is, he helps and talks with you about his outings
You're no stranger as to what he does, I mean come on- he was demonic looking from when ya first met him so it's hard to say that you wouldn't know what he does
As long as you don't have to hear or watch any of it your fine
Another thing he likes about you
One time after WEEKS of working up the courage you asked him if you could play with his hair
Not in a braiding manor but rather just run your hands through his hair
He said no
But when he sees your defeated face he would sigh sharply and make the smallest gesture for you to come over and do so
When you do get to play with his hair the first time it's surprisingly soft
Who said demons couldn't care for their hair?
He may be a demon but he's not a barbaric one, he bathes and washes his hair
Once he sees how much you enjoy messing with his hair and he realizes how good it feels he lets you do it more often
When he wants you to play with his hair he won't outwardly say for you to do so but there will be signs that he wants you too
They won't be overly obvious so pay attention or you'll have a sour Koku on your hands to deal with
The one time you saw something irk him was when you and him were having a rather soft moment together
You were sitting in his lap facing him while his face was tucked away in your neck as you were gently scratching his scalp when a certain pot rolling noise was heard and a boisterous laugh followed it
"Oh! Seems I've happened to interrupt something, hmm?~"
Gyokko was a needle thread away from remembering how it felt to be a scared little human while fearing the close call with death
First time you got to meet the other upper six was purely by accident on Nakime's part
While strumming to summon Kokushibo to the Infinity Fortress you were dropped in his normal spot right on top of him without warning
How you were summoned at the same time as him was beyond his thought process at the moment
He's still reeling from you landing on top of him with a petrified look
You were sat closely to his side while your demon boyfriend was scolding Nakime on summoning you there
His smallest sliver of fear was warranted when you were next to him one second and the next you weren't
The other 5 Upper Moons were suddenly lined in front of you as your face was pale and frozen with fear
"How adorable!!! Kokushibo never disappoints when he's out, this one's adorable!!"
Before a Rainbow eyed demon could even grab you or lay a touch on you his hand was sliced all the way up his arm and his head was cut off in fours
You didn't need to look around to know who did it to him, as the blonde demons head and arm was regenerating even he was quiet
You went to scoot back and away only to be stopped by a pair of legs
Behind you was Kokushibo with a warning in his eyes as he looked at all the demons
Tense as it was Gyokko was the one to try and break the awkwardness by explaining who you were
Yeah- he was sent flying into one of the many distorted building rooms around you
After that and a defeated Upper 5 is what led to you meeting the other demons he disliked and worked with
Hantengu took to you quicker with your soft and sweet nature that surrounded you
He always was calling you 'too sweet for this world' or 'how can something so sweet exist in such a twisted world'
Akaza got along with you cause you seemed to remind him of someone, even though he can't recall that person, and the fact that he's the only demon there that wouldn't kill you in a flash
He was more like a protective sibling if anything, that and you rather enjoyed one another's company once the awkwardness was passed
You already knew Gyokko when he had interrupted a private moment between you and Kokushibo, he was odd to say the least, him and his weird fish abilities
If anything you and him just exsist around one another, and artist quarrel is what you could call it
Gyutaro and Daki were on a whole different realm of getting along with you, they were indifferent about you
I mean- they did watch basically their savor almost get mutilated by Upper Moon 1
When they did take to you tho it was more like a mother figure than anything, after Daki got over her 'prettier than thou' complex
Gyutaro was just enjoying watching you and his sister talk and do one another's hair and makeup (you both dragged him into getting his hair done with you too)
Douma was the last one to even be let around you and only when Akaza or Kokushibo was around you with him
He was- odd to you to say the least, always so smiley and oddly gleeful when he would say something morbid with a smile or growing grin about it
You were never left alone around him, he always spoke about how sweet you smelled and how delectable you would be and that's probably why Kokushibo was with you
His head was promptly sent off his shoulders by an irritated Akaza
After that you don't need to worry your head about it, Akaza and Nakime (after she had apologized to you) reassured you that Kokushibo was with you for you, not for entertainment or food
Muzan...
He was cordial with you if anything, yes while you were with his best demon behind his back he talked with Kokushibo on it a different day
He really only tolerated you till you offered him one of you flower identification books and some of your notes on them
You knew the flower he was looking for and were promptly obsessed with it's beauty yourself
After that it led to you and him talking about the different flowers he could try for his 'Science experiment' as he called it
You were made away in the ranks of the 12 Kizuki to not be messed with or toyed with by Muzan personally, he can't have his 'assistant' getting killed on him
Overall after that your home some rare nights had one of the other demons in it hanging out with you or chatting and helping you out while you lover was away
Douma and Gyokko were the only ones that never came over, Douma would if he could convince one of the others to go with him, he likes your character and how you fidget when you speak, that's his only reason to see you really
Muzan when visiting was an utter gentleman tho, he'd help where he could so you both could sit and talk about some of your research and his about what certain flowers could be good for
Nights that Kokushibo was there no other demon would be around, he likes his time between the two of you to remain private, he doesn't need the whole Kizuki to see him being a rare side of himself with you, even Muzan respected that
You turn him good...
It was more of his biggest scare he's had in all his years of being a demon that he shared with Muzan and that was the encounter with the boy that wore Hanafuda earrings
He would have been dead if you hadn't pulled the stupid stunt of jumping in front of him to stop the younger boy from cutting his head off
How you didn't was beyond you, cause when he seized his technique you fell back with a shaky form and white face
Before the Red head and his friends and sister could say anything about it, Kokushibo had you standing and hands roughly planted on your shoulders yelling at you about how stupid you were for doing that
Leaving those stunned around you two as the 2nd most feared demon was yelling at you about being reckless and careless about yourself
Shook them even more and Kokushibo when you slapped him across his face
"Me?! RECKLESS?!?! You're the one out here fighting these pillars and slayers, from what I just saw your the reckless one here! What was your plan! You can live several lifetimes over and choose to almost throw everything we built up and out the window for a selfish- a selfish piece of shit!! I don't think you knew what you signed up for when we got together! I love you and I'm not walking the rest of this world without you anymore! Demon or not you can die just as I can, I don't want you to just throw away our years like that... My heart could never take that.."
From there... Things were a blurring whirlwind of changes
One big one being you and Tanjiro having to stop every other pillar (and former Tengen) from trying to murder him
His change of heart was something that left him with little words to say to anyone or say anything for days on end, even with Sanemi trying his damnedest to not murder Kokushibo where he stands
The only pillar that had helped you with trying to change Kokushibo back to human when you brought it up was Shinobu, Tanjiro, the kindest soul you've met here, helped as well, even Mitsuri was eventually on board cause of it being such a true act of love
You had actually succeeded after some years of working with them and Kokushibo helping take care of the three young pillars and some of the other older pillars themselves
It was painful when none of the other demons wished to change and you had to hear about their deaths
Kokushibo knew it affected you and at night when you would cry about losing some of the good ones he would hold you close, cradle you gently till you would either settle down after a bit or fall asleep
When the time to take the reverser you and Shinobu made it changed his appearance entirely flakes fell off of his face and arms like whisps of fall leaves
His skin tone a human color again and his 6 eyes now only two with a vibrant red color filling them as he was tackled into a hug by you laughing a crying
He sat up with you clung around him as he smiled and patted your head with a small chuckle of his own while sharing a warmed look
His first steps outside was a mental struggle on him, he's not been in the sun for years an years and now he's about to step into the thing he despised
When he stepped into the sun without bursting into flames he merely looked back at you with a small smile and held his hand out for you, you ended up just taking a walk around the butterfly mansion and was even found sharing a nap in the sun
Though fixing and making his sleep schedule regular again was a hassle in the making but it led to some fun moments
Overall when it came to the final days of defeating Muzan Kokushibo was a big help and even trained the newest 3 pillars there, even if it was beyond training with the others, it did good
When peace was finally successful between it all and Muzan gone it was really the greatest coming years for you and Kokushibo
Your own home, land, still getting up early and training for Kokushibo, old habits die hard, delicious meals throughout the day, enjoying tea again, even starting your own chapter when you decided to finally have your own kids adopted or biological
It didn't matter, you had a true life with someone you call your lifetime partner, your forever soulmate, no matter what â¤ď¸
You turn bad for him...
The more and more you hung out with the upper ranks and some of the lower ranks the more you started considering them friends and family to you
It was odd for Kokushibo, but nonetheless you were happy so he left it alone with some warnings in tow he gave you about getting close to them
You listened, you always did, especially when visiting the others in the fortress when he wasn't around
Times like that Nakime and Akaza would watch you carefully in his absence
Only ones they knew that Kokushibo dislikes around you is Gyokko, Douma, Enmu, and sometimes Rui
They were the only ones that he would draw a line with
And speaking of which the more you stayed and helped and your bond with Kokushibo grew
The one thing that scared you into making such a big decision is when your home was invaded by a Slayer, a not so friendly one at that
He was onto you 'hiding a demon' in your home and it resulted in you being cut along your side when you kept denying and shakily standing your ground against him
Just as you hit the floor, holding your side the slayer in front of you sprayed blood from his shoulder then pierced with a blade littered with eyes on it and behind him, a very pissed off Kokushibo
Once the slayer was dealt with Kokushibo was quick to make his way to you and take you to the kitchen to wrap your wound
It wasn't anything threateningly deep so he was able to patch you without anything severe
You didn't say anything while he gently tended to your bandages before you made him stop in his tracks
"..I want to be a demon.."
"No, you don't"
"And why can't I?"
"Do you enjoy the sun?"
"I do at times."
"Do you like your flowers?"
"Yes, you know that."
"Do you like being human.."
"I- what does that have to-"
"Do you cherish your humanity?"
"..."
"...Only... Only when you decide to leave what makes you human behind.. Will I turn you into a Demon and I will be sure to tell Muzan that too."
Kokushibo doesn't understand why you want to suddenly become a demon
Was it to protect yourself? No, you can protect yourself fine thanks to him teaching you
Over the course of a few days you and Kokushibo were rather... Distant
He didn't understand it, why give up one of the things he loves about you, you know this
But why is he also so conflicted? He used to entertain the idea of you both being demons a lot when you first initially had settled in with one another
It's weird for him rn, he likes that your human and can enjoy most things he can't, on the other, he knows that if you were to become a demon he would be able to worry a whole lot less about your well-being and you would be even more able to protect yourself
Eventually... You two are sitting on your back deck looking over the nights silvery cast that was set over the ground
Neither of you said anything, even when you climbed into his lap and had a hearty sigh expel from your chest
"I just... Even if it was a minor attack for you, I can't fight slayers, or demons, I'm not strong enough to wield a blade and without that, I can't fight them."
"I am aware of this, I have offered you plenty of times to learn different weaponry that can be specially curated into a weapon for you by a blacksmith. Was the offer not appealing enough?"
"It was... Very appealing...but there's a lot more at risk of becoming part of the corps than turning. You can recover from things that we can't, no matter the best doctors or medicines. I am also aware of the risks of becoming a demon..though there are far less cons that show their differences too."
Kokushibo rose an eyebrow as he shifted you in his lap, he grabbed your chin and made you look up at him
Even when he did this you avoided his gaze....you never spoke this much or sounded almost as passionate as you have unless.... There was another reason...
"Speak with your chest, I know that there's another reason as to why you want to change. So tell me what it is."
You looked to meet his gaze for a split second, locking with his middle set of eyes before you grabbed his hand on your chin. You moved the hand to your chest over your heart while you leaned against his chest
"You..."
"Elaborate.."
You took a deep breath again and looked around your yard before shutting your eyes
"You had said and I had agreed back when we first made our promises... That even if I were to die and you go on living, you wouldn't love another soul, nor turn your back on my aging body."
"I did, and I will honor those promises for as long as I am here and continue to do so since the day I made them. Is that your point?"
"My point... Is that I don't want to leave you eternally alone. I would rather be a demon and lose my humanity just so we can be together for as long as we both live, that is my point."
For the entire time you've been here like this, after the passing seconds of what you said hung in the air for him to mull over
And then... He smiled
"Then listen to me well My Moon.."
He removed his hand from your grasp and took his blade out, running it along his wrist in a slow fluid motion as his blood began to run and drip to the wood floor below you
"If you choose not to ingest my blood, I will remain. I am a man of my word and my promises to you will never be empty or forgotten. However... Do you choose to ingest my blood, what you said before that you 'Don't want to leave me eternally alone" will become your promise to me that I will expect you to honor, do you understand My Moon?"
He held his arm up to your eye level as it continued to drip and stain both of your clothes as he held it.
You looked at his arm watching each drop of blood drip from his arm
You looked back at him and his expression, a soft smile was spread across his face, but all of his eyes showed a waiting fury for what your decision would be
No matter the choice... he would be at your side
You moved and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek as you turned and gently took his arm closer looking at the cut with your final decision
"Till Death Do Us Part"
You moved the cut to your mouth and slowly with a bit of a sour look on your face as the tangy metallic taste flooded your mouth and soon your entire body
Before you could scream or yell in paint and thrash about, Kokushibo clasped a hand over you mouth to muffle any noise you made
His other arm thrown around your waist pinning you back against him and pinning your arms at your sides
You squirmed, shook, thrashed, and screamed against his hold and hand while he just held you like it was nothing
He smiled while watching you, his eyes softening a bit while he looked up at the moon and forced your head against his shoulder to make you look at it as well
"Till Death Do Us Part, Forever One"
#x reader#anime#demon slayer#language#anime gif#kokushibo#kokushibo x reader#12 kizuki#upper six#upper moons#kny muzan#kny kokushibo#kokushibo x you#long reads#long post#request#demon reader#human kokushibo#headcannons#self indulgent#idk what else to tag
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đťđ đŤđđđ đđđđ
ÉŞÉŞÉŞ. sÉŞĘĘɪɴɢ á´á´ÇŤá´ÉŞĘá´á´
You get a new addition to your family, and all is right with the world.
(Hopefully nothing from the next chapter ruins this for you haha.)
Watching Mum trip over herself to follow Mother around and tend to her every, little need was pretty funny at first.
But now you (unfortunately) have no right to laugh anymore, because as it turns out, learning that you're going to be an older sibling in just a few months really puts certain things into perspective, and now you're basically doing the same thing (although you at least had the dignity to be a lot more subtle about it, Mum.)
You don't know why, as you can't recall ever acting like this when your siblings from your first life came along, but everything just suddenly seems like a threat. For every sharp corner Mother passes by, you're quick to reach your hand over to cover it in case she gets close enough for contact. When you catch her going up or down the stairs, you're already rushing to her side to offer out a hand in support.
Yes, Mother of course laughs at all of this, and makes sure to tease you for doing the very things you laughed at your Mum for, but you can tell from the fondness in her smile and the bright twinkle in her eyes that she genuinely does appreciate all of the effort you and Mum were putting in to ensure her and the baby's comfort and safetyâeven if the measures Mum took could be pretty ... excessive.
("I can understand sanding down the corners of our dining table, but there is absolutely no way I'm letting you put carpets over the walls. I think Mother would actually kill me if I let you."
"You weren't there when it happened, [Y/n]! What if the next time she bumps into a wall, she pushes her baby bump back in?!"
"Mum of mine, I do not believe that is physically possible."
"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?!"
"MAYBE BECAUSE ONE OF US WAS LUCKY ENOUGH TO INHERIT THE INTELLIGENCE I CLEARLY DIDN'T GET FROM YOU!")
Yeah, just thinking of all the times you've had to be the voice of reason between you and your Mum despite being the actual child between the two of you was enough to give you a headache. And the more Mother's stomach grows, the worse it gets.
At this point, I'm starting to believe that someone's gonna have to hold Mum's hand when the baby comes.
The thought makes you pause, ponder for a bit, and then cringe.
Poor nurse.
Other than Mum's (and admittedly, yours) overprotective tendencies, though, you're happy to report that Mother's pregnancy is going fairly well. From the visits your little family makes to the hospital every now and then, your younger sibling seems to be developing fine, and has been repeatedly reported as quite healthy, to your family's relief, pride, and joy.
What gets you all feeling really joyful, however, is the doctor revealing that the baby's gender can finally be determined.
"Wait!" Mother stops him before he can say anything else. "Don't tell us just yet! I want it to be a surprise!" she insists.
"Whaâa surprise?" Mum repeats, clearly confused. "You didn't want it to be a surprise last time!" she complains.
Penelope rolls her eyes at the childish tone in her wife's voice and takes her hand. "I know, which is why I want it to be a surprise this time," she explains. "Besides, you wouldn't want to turn down a cake, would you?"
When Mum only answers with silence, it's pretty easy for you and the doctor to guess who won.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Three weeks of anticipation later, the gender reveal cake is delivered on your doorstep in a white box by a teenage girl with short, curly brown locks.
"Hope you folks like it," she says with a wink once the package is placed into your arms. "It took a whole lotta effort keeping it in tact, driving it all the way out here."
Her words cause a semi-guilty smile to grace your features. "Right. Sorry about that," you say, and you really do mean it; you couldn't imagine having to deliver a cake somewhere so far out in the country, especially with only a rusty old vespa as your noble steed.
The girl only laughs good-naturedly and ruffles your hair. "No need to apologize, kiddo. Hope ya'll enjoy the cake!" she says.
With that, she turns around to leave, but not before throwing back a quick, "Congratulations!" over her shoulder in reference of who exactly the cake was made for.
Thus, with the cake now in your possession, you bring it into the dining room, where Mother and Mum are already waiting in their designated seats at the table.
"She seemed nice," Mother comments, obviously referring to the delivery girl you'd just spoken to.
You hum, telling her, "She was," before setting the box down and opening it.
The cake is, as the delivery girl said, indeed in tact, and covered in frosting and all sorts of fruits to keep whatever flavor the cake itself was hidden.
"Oh, this is so exciting!" Mother says, clapping her hands with a giddy smile on her face. "Anyone already have any guesses?" she asks, looking over to her wife.
Mum hums and holds her chin in thought for a moment before eventually settling on: "Strawberry."
Nodding, Mother then turns to you and lifts her brows expectantly.
With an amused huff, you sit down in your own chair just as Mum rises out of her own to grab three plates and a knife. "You know what? I'm thinking strawberry, too," you decide.
Tilting her head curiously, Mother leans back in her seat and begins to caress her stomach. "May I ask why?" she inquires.
You shrug. "Just a feeling, I guess," you answer.
The conversation ends after that, as Mum is finally prepared to cut the cake.
"Alrighty, then," she begins once yours and Mother's attention is fully on her. "Here we go."
Setting the knife down for only a moment, Mum pulls the box's walls all the way downânot just to make cutting the cake easier, but to also give you and Mother a clear view of it from your positions, as well.
With that said and done, Mum picks the knife back up and inhales deeply, obviously hyping herself up for what's about to come. It feels a little silly, getting this anxious over a cake, but there's still this sort of tightness in your chest that makes it only a little hard to breathe. Is it anticipation? Dread of the inevitable? A mix of both?
In the end, it doesn't matter, because then a knife is slicing right through frosting andâ
"Strawberry," Mum breathes, a triumphant grin slowly beginning to overtake her face. "Looks like we're gonna be welcoming a little girl into our family next."
You and Mother throw your hands into the air and cheer.
(Later that night, the bakery your cake had come from gets a call from you to let your delivery girl know that you folks did, indeed, enjoy the cake.)
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
It is midnight when Mother's water breaks and Mum practically throws you into the car to drive you all off to the hospital.
It is about three in the morning when you get to leave the waiting room at last and see the labor (pun intended) of your Mother's work.
The baby is smallâprobably the smallest person you've ever seenâand, unlike you, takes a lot after Mum with her dark skin and soft tufts of platinum blonde hair.
"Oh," you say out loud without meaning to, eyes wide as you take in the infant held in Mother's arms. I'm an older sibling.
You knew you would be one for a while now, of course, and actually were one in your previous life, too. But ... there was just something about this moment: about seeing the little person that's been growing in Mother's stomach finally out and about in the real world, her eyes closed and her face all scrunched up, that had your chest exploding with an overwhelming warmth and your eyes threatening to flood with tears that you were desperately trying to keep in.
(Spoiler alert: you fail. Badly.)
"Hello, little love," Mother says, sounding so exhausted but still so happy at the same time. "Would you like to hold your baby sister?" she asks.
Still in shock at the sight of her, you can only manage a nod and then stare dumbly as the baby's handed over to rest in your arms.
"Um." You blink, mouth slightly agape. "Oh, wow."
(Across from you, Willow snorts.)
You watch, absolutely captivated, as the infant's chest rises and falls with each breath she takes. But then her face twitches, and your eyes automatically lift to watch as it scrunches up. It awes you, almost, the way she seems to struggle simply opening her eyes, but then her stare meets yours and it's like a puzzle clicks into place.
"Hey there, little sister," you greet, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm so happy to meet you."
Your sister babbles, unable to properly respond, obviously, and reaches up. Almost instinctually, you lift her higher, allowing her to reach your face and pat her small palms wherever she can, still babbling like you can understand every noise and gurgle.
You laugh and nod along anyway and pretend not to notice the tears you'd failed to hide.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
"You're gonna rule the world someday."
Your newly acquired sister, Odette (named after one of Mother's favorite stories, Swan Lake) looks up at the sound of your voice and tilts her head. It's been two months since her birth, and in those short months, you've learned that although Ody (the nickname you proudly bestowed her with the moment you thought of it) takes a lot after Mum, she is most definitely every bit of Penelope's daughter just as you are without a doubt Willow's child.
While you had inherited most of Mum's, er ... impulsiveness, Odette had the good fortune of inheriting Mother's patented Stare of Judgementâ˘, which you had the honor of seeing it in action yourself ... because Odette had focused it on you and Mum when you both attempted to do something stupid that was very safe, creative, and fun.
(That's what you tried telling Mother, at least.
She didn't fall for it for even a second and the two of you got sent to timeout in the living room again.)
Odette babbles, snapping you out of your train of thought, and you smile down at her as you start running your hand through the platinum cloud that's been growing atop her head.
"Man, look at all this," you say, curling a strand of Odette's already curly hair around your finger. "At this point, your hair's gonna end up bigger than your head," you joke.
Odette babbles again in response and takes your free hand in between her smaller ones to play with your fingers, making your smile grow into a grin.
"Oh yeah; definitely queen of the world material." You nod. "Don't worry, I'll make sure to be there with you every step of the way. Who else's hands are you supposed to play with?" you ask.
"Ababa?" Odette blinks up at you.
You nod once again. "Exactly!"
She stares at you for a moment, as if processing your words, and then looks away to return her full attention to your hand. You chuckle, amused by just how much personality Odette could convey despite not knowing how to properly speak yet.
"Man ..." Turning your head to gaze out the window, you smile as you watch the trees dance to the wind outside. "I didn't think it'd be possible, Ody, but I ... think I'm more than a little used to this life now, y'know?"
The infant blows a raspberry.
You laugh. "A wise queen, too!"
(Outside, the wind howls, and as it does, a single orange leaf falls to the forest floor.
So it appears, the seasons have finally begun to change.)
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Ghosts & Medium AU Drabble - Mansion Invasion
The drabble idea i have been wanting to write :3
There is some stuff that hapepend in between. But it is a few weeks after Ngihtmare joined the group :3
No edit's or beta we going.
*----------------------------*
"I still do not see the purpose of getting distracted from your mission of getting my relic." Nightmare sounds unamused from where he sits in the front seat.
Dust does not look up from the road "And I like to eat something other than dry rice once in a while." and the stupid cult activity ruined most ghost hunting jobs so he needs to branch out.
Sure he hasn't hunted other supernatural stuff in a while but this shouldn't be that hard.
It are only like sex demons. And those never managed to affect him before so all things considered it is a very save job to do for Dust.
Killer whines as he uses Cross's body to lean over the back of the chair "Why is Nightmare allowed in thr front seat?!"
Ash huffs "Because you try to distract Dust while he is driving like now! Back off!"
Cross pouts as he hangs in the air with his arms crossed. Waiting for his body to finish kicking Killer out.
They figured out that once Cross's reinhabites his body he has two full days before his spirit and body become weak to possession again. Which means Killer will force his way in. Then it is a matter of who is stronger at the moment and kick the other out. If Cross remains he gets two more uninterrupted days. If Killer wins it takes the body a bit over a day to kick him out himself.
THere was this day once where both somehow managed to stay in the body and that was weird. Killer cooed about them sharing and maybe that would make for a dope threesome. Cross had turned to Horror and asked the other ghost to hit Killer which Horror happily did.
This morning Killer had won and seems to be Killer's turn to drive the body.
Dust had once asked Cross why he didn't just go back to the church to be safe. but Cross had looked embarressed as he shot him looks before muttering about how it seemed ungrateful to just let Dust fix his mess and than not even help with repaying the deal Dust had been forced to make for Cross.
Dust appreciates his assistance. Even if Cross also tends to wake in his bed now. At least he apologises. Soemthing about weird body sharing shenigans and habits. Dust didn't pay enough attention.
Etiher way!!
Work.
They drive for a moment in blissful silence.
Nightmare sighs as he looks out of the window "And what exactly does this work include?"
Dust keeps staring ahead "We are going to a mansion. Where I will search the area and find the source of an incubus and succubus infection. Once cleared I will get paid." and he will finally be able to buy some coffee and sigs. He hasn't had either in so long and he is craving both so badly.
Also maybe some medicine for his migraines and headaches. Those are starting to really bother him. Painkillers for his aching body from all his magic would also be nice. It may even finally stop the constant shakign of his right hand and arm.
Nightmare frowns "We are going to clean out a demon infestation?"
Dsut shakes his skull "No. I am. You all i just don't trust to leave in my appartment alone so you are coming along."
Ngihtmare looks insulted "I do not need a babysitter."
Dust doesn't even bother to answer that "We are almost there."
Cross frowns as he leans closer "How will you fix this anyway?"
Dust doens't look away from the road "Incubus and sucubus spread the same way. Having sex and letting the victim drink some of the blood of the demon. It makes the victim into one of them."
Killer gasps "No! If you want sex I can show you an amazing time!" and he grins.
Dust shoots him a glare before quickly looking ahead of them "I am not going to have sex with any of them you idiot! That is the exact opposite of what i am trying to do!"
Horror looks interested "So how would you fix it?"
Dust sighs "You remove the demon energy of the one who started the chain. You end the source it cleans all the ones following it. so all i need to do is find the original demon that infiltrated the place. cleanse them. and all the others will be fixed too!"
Cross hums "That sounds relatively easily..."
Ngihtmare chuckles "sounds much too easy. How will you make sure they don't trick you or infect you?"
Dust huffs "please i have dealt with them before and they never could do shit against me because i don't find anyone attractive. Hard to transform and look like someone you like when you don't have anyone." it did mke it very easy for him to spot the demons and cleanse them.
Dsut just hopes he can find the original one and doesn't have to fix each victim one by one as that would just take a lot of magic and energy that he does not have. which means he needs to focus on finding the source.
They stop before a long driveway which leads to a big mansion. It looks beautiful as it stands proud between large fields grass.
Killer snorts "Well someone is compansating for something." and he chuckles.
Ngihtmare looks unimpressed at the mansion "Honestly it looks unsightly. It isn't even that large. They clal that a mansion nowadays?"
Dust has the feeling this will be a long day. He turns his chair around and kicks killer out of the way as he walks to his equipment. He looks for a moment before just bringing his notebook with exorsice rituals. He grabs an amulet as well. Dust checks and is happy to note that the crystal powering it is fully chargest. Hopefully with this he can easily deal with this. He tugs the amulet away in his scarf.
All ready.
He leaves his van and waits for the two bodies to actually leave it as the three spirits just float around.
Dust leads the way and speaks "Now. Remember. We will be in a nest filled with these demons. Don't do anything that could get you infected." he shoots Killer a glare specifically "You especially."
Killer puts ahand on his chest "You wound me Dusty. As if i would ever cheat on you with someone else. You know you are my one true love."
Dust shakes his skull as he glances at Nightmare.
Nightmare looks amused "As if i would desire mortals or lowly demons like them."
Dsut raises a brow "Then why are you also in my bed in the morning?"
Nightmare grins "your mortification is delicious. Almost as tasty as Killer's jealousy." Killer glares and Dsut just shakes his skull.
He knocks on the door.
A butler opens and looks at him disapproving "Oh. Can I help you?"
Dust nods as he takes out his phone and searches for the email wiht directions "Yes. I am Dust. Master Erised and I had contact about a small... infestation? that needed clearing?"
The butler frowns as he looks them all over. His sight remaining on the three in actual bodies and not once glancing at the ghosts. "I see. please. come in." they walk into the large hall with many fancy paintings and some vases around. The butler mentions for them to wait there as he goes to get the master of the house.
They wait as Ash does his job and inspects everything around the hall quickly wihtout leaving any traces. he returns and says he doesn't see cameras or any symbols or magical markers. Meaning the demons are fully concentrate on just expending forces. maybe even trying to make a new nest.
That is when a man in a large coat with a fur lining walks down the stairs. his grin wide and arms open "Ah! The exterminator! Dust was it?" he smiles charming as he stops before them. Looking all three of them over.
Dust nods "Mister Erised I assume?" he holds out a hand.
The man nods as he takes his hand and kisses it. Killer postures and glares and Dust mentally takes note that the master had already been taken over by the infection. Shit. okay. Timelimit is very short in that case.
The man lets Dust take his hand back and looks amused when Dust rubs the back of his hand on his hoody.
The man speaks a bit about how he thought there was an infection but it seems to have sorted itself out already. But he hadn't thought to email him quite yet. He apologises and encourages them all to spend the night to rest up. assuring him that they will obviosuly still be paid as he hadn't cancelled.
Dust nods along and they are shown around the mansion before ending up in a visitors wing where the man shows three different bedrooms for them to use. All a bit apart from one another and not one wall shared between the different rooms. He encourages them to get comfortable and wash up before meeting him in the hall when he will show them around the property more.
He leaves them be.
Dust just waves Nightmare nad Killer along to his room where he drops off most of their things and starts searching it.
Killer stretches "So... waste of time? at least you will still get paid."
Nightmare answers before he can "Oh no. the demons are still very much here. they just infected the mansions owner."
Dust nods "They are making this place a nest." he gets some tools prepared before hiding those on his person. "We will all work in groups. Ash will obviously wiht me. Cross? horror? who will stay with Killer and who will stay wiht Nightmare in their own rooms?"
Cross glares a tKiller "as if i am leaving Killer alone with my body. especially with it being at risk of being infected." Horror looks fine with it and floats to be more by Ngihtmare's side.
They all clean up in the bathroom by taken turns before leaving some token clothes in the other rooms. after which they move downstairs to meet with their host who shows them across the property and introduces them to many, many, servants and maids that all tend to his needs. He grins and winks as he says they will tend to any need they may have.
Dust thinks the demon lays it on a little thick. which honestly? not the smartest move as they are here specifically to get rid of the sex demons. why try and play with fire by flirting with them?
Then again.
Dust glances at Ngihtmare who has about five different servants eeying him. Nightmare seems to fall in favour. May be because the others see the more mortal form over the black goop and tentacle form that Dust and the others can see. Dust only managed to see glimps of that form in mirrors but that one looks like a very pretty skeleton with soft purple eyelights.
Killer, or better said Cross, also seems to fall in favour. Which Dust also gets. Cross works out and it shows. Dust knows that is generally well liked and appreciated by others.
Ngihtmare looks amused "As lovely as the pool looks. we did not bring swimwear. I am afraid we will have to decline."
One of the humans talking to him. Maybe one of the daughters of the lord? Grins and mentions how they don't mind skinny dipping. And she and her sisters are more than happy to join in if it makes them more comfortable.
Nightmare just smiles and shakes his skull "It seems rather rude." he gives a partial bow "Thank you for the offer." the demon infected humans look annoyed and sad but accept it.
Dust does notice a few making eyes at him. But as soon as they do Killer is by his side and glaring challenging at the ones looking. Dust doesn't see why Killer is so worried. Dust isn't attractive and so he doubts he will actually become a target. Not to forget Dust doens't have any interest himself. Meaning it is fine.
One very large meal later they split up to go to their own rooms.
Dust is only in there for a moment. Enough to give the others time to go to their rooms before grabbing what he needs and leaving his room again. He has the first incubus or succubus to find.
--
Nightmare stretches as he checks his appearance in the mirror. He does not like that the look in the mirror shows his old form. Even if he is lacking the wings he used to have.
At least there aren't any clear angel marks on him anymore. As much as the fall was painful adn horrible he does appreciate that the fall burned away all marks he had as angel.
He touches his back where his wings used to be. He can almost see his full old form as he stares at himself. the markings of the moon on his skull. the stars as a crown over him. The six wings all snow white aside from the purple tips of the feathers.
At least he is outside of that locked realm now.
In truth Nightmare does not care that Dust is working on something other than getting the relic Ngihtmare asked for. It had been the quickest thing he could think about that would ahve sounded reasonable while Ngihtmare searched for what he actually wanted.
His soul.
His soul is somewhere locked on this earth. Hidden away from him and with him suposedly stuck in hell he would never have been reunited with it and regain all of his powers.
Onc ehe has those. He won't have to worry about being banished again. He will be truly free to go wherever he wants.
but for him to be able to find his soul he needs some of his powers and energy back. Which is why he is staying witht he mortal and his spiritual guests. They are all wells of emotions and so easy sources of power for Nightmare.
Ngihtmare sighs as he turns abck to the room "Just have patiences." he is already one step closer to being free than before. At least Dsut had managed to actually figure out how to summon him instead of fucking up the ritual circle and leaving it useless for him to actually cross over.
Now.
Is it late enough to join the sleeping other? trigger some of those emotions he can eat and absorb as he relaxes back in the company of the warm body-
knocks on his door.
Nightmare frowns as he looks up "Who is there?"
a moment of silence before the door creaks open. It is Dust?
Nightmare frowns as he tilts hsi skull at him "Dust? Is something the matter?"
Dust shrugs as he sidesteps into the room.
Horror frowns "Dust? Are you okay? Did something happen?" he looks around "Where is Ash?"
Dust however ignores horror and walks to his side and leans against him. Nightmare freezes before one tendril pulls Dust a bit closer. He is freezing "Dust?"
Dust mumbles as he pushes clsoer to his side "Cold..."
Ngihtmare frowns. That con't be right. Mortals shouldn't be this cold. Is he getting sick? He hadn't noticed something in the food he ate that could ahve been dangerous. And the demons here shouldn't be able to stela his life force from a distance- unless!
Ngihtamre frowns and rubs his arm "Did one of them get to you?"
Dust shakes his skull and pushes clsoer "Wnat to be close... can i stay?"
Horror frowns "somethign is off... Dust?"
nightmare nods "of course." they will hunt the demons in the morning. He leads Dust back and helps him in first before joining the other. He is still so cold. He rubs the other's arms and back to hopefully get abit of warmth back into the other "I will go grab another blanket."
Dust keeps a tight hold on him "No... we can..." he mutters before looking away "nevermind."
Nightmare can't help but smile. Dust isn't often shy about anything. He just holds the other "What would bring you comfort?" maybe he wants more food? Nightmare had noticed he eats very little and Dust gets defensive when they point it out. Maybe he feels awkward for wanting more?
Dust looks at him and pulls back a bit as he slowly starts to undo his hoody as he mutters "quick way is to share bodyheat..."
Horror hold sup his hands before covering his own sockets "Wait! Dust! I am still here! also not the time?!"
Ngihtmare realises right away were this is going. wait is there an aura at work? to get them more worked up or-
Dust undoes his scarf and drops it to the side.
Ngihtmare doesn't think and throws the fake off his bed and against the wall.
The face goes from shy to hurt for a moment before a knowing grin appears "What is wrong?" the demon stands up striahgt and taps down the dirt of them "You can't be shy now."
Ngihtmare glares as he is off the bed himself and on the other side of the room "you are not dust." why hadn't his tentacle impaled the weaker demon for daring to do that? For invading his space and imply those things?!
The demon grins as they walk over. swinging the hips nad Nightmare raises his tendrils at the ready. The demon does not see his warning as they get right into his personal space with a purr "You know you want to. You can't stop looking at him. Watching him. Anytime anyone makes a comment he is all you see. I can be him. I can act how he would act. You can have him right now."
Nightmare can't believe it but it sounds tempting. His tentacles just hang there. unwilling to attack the image of Dust. The idea of seeing Dust impaled on his tentacles? Dying on them? Even if it isn't really him?
Oh...
Oh no.
This is not the time for this.
The demon grins as they put their arms around his neck "See?" they pull back and Ngihtamre is treated to the image of Dust licking his teeth with a sly grin. Nightmare can feel his magic spark with interest even as he knows it is fake.
It looks so real.
It feels real.
The demon even smells like Dust-
Horror flies through the demona nd the image flickers.
Dust is gone and one of those needy daughters is in view.
The demon is impaled with a tentacle within moments and the human dies.
The body drops and Ngihtmare pants as he and horror are left in the room.
Horror shoots him a glance "so... about those desires for mortals you don't have-"
Ngihtamre glares "shut. up." he grabs his jacket "lets just look for the others." and leaves the room.
--
Killer pouts as he lays in the room alone. He lays on his back dramatically and sighs loudly.
Cross looks at him annoyed "Can you stop that and just go to sleep already?"
Killer glares at him "It is unfair! I finally got control and now I can't even enjoy my nightly cuddle and groping with Dusty? It is rude!" he pouts.
Cross huffs "You shouldn't even do those!"
Killer raises a brow at him "Says the one who also does it."
Cross sputters "That isnt!" he glares as he blushes, heh Cross is rather cute when he blushes, "it isn't my fault you got my body used to sleeping with dust!"
Killer grins "man i wish it was that. I would kill to be allowed to fuck him."
Cross sputters again and hides his face "You know i didn't mean that!"
Killer laughs but stops when the door creaks. He sits up but grins when he spots dust "Dust bunny!" he makes grabby hands "come lay in bed with me!" he wants to hold him. and kiss him. and grope him a little!
Dust looks at him before smilign a bit and walking closer. Fuck dust looks pretty when he smiles. Dust needs to smile more often! Killer will happily be silly if it means dusty smiles more and- huh?
Killer stares for a moment before pouting "Why did you take edge-lord wiht you?" he pouts but gets out of bed. If Dust and Nightmare are here it is most likely to do with the actual job thing so fine.
Dust however just pushes him back on the bed and joins him. Huh!?
Cross makes a very curious highpitched noise "Dust?! Dust! That is my body still!" he is blushing madly.
Killer is ready to tell Cross to shut it when Dust hums "hey cross... mind us joining you?"
Killer immediantly pushes the demon off of him and jumps back to the other side of the bed. Dust frowns at him as Killer takes out a knife "Not a step closer demon. Where is my dusty?" he glances at ngihtmare but nightmare just stands there like a statue and doens't move to attack dust "Nightmare! that isn't dust!"
Nightmare just tilts his skull at him and speaks calmly in that smooth deep voice "Of course it is dust." he is so still. his tendrils are all not even moving.
Killer blinks and cross curses "oh shit." cross flies over and waves his hand in front of nightmare's face but there is no reaction. Cross floats backwards "holy shit. They are both demons! Killer!"
Killer glances at them... and rushes towards the door. He kicks it open and runs outside. Cross close behind.
Killer pants as he rushes to dusts room and kicks in the door again. The room is empty thank fucking god. He checks the last room only to find a dead human on the ground.
Killer pants "okay. okay. the others are fine. no idea where but shit." the demons leave his room and killer starts running again "deos explain why those tendrils were not idling or anything!"
Cross flies by his side and shoots him a look "... wait so you find nightmare hot? since when?"
Killer turns a corner "Not the time!"
--
Dust looks around the corner and frowns. Everythign is way too quiet.
Ash looks around as well and huffs "okay. So. We checked the bedrooms. Nothing that looks like a base or nest... wait did these demons actually nest like monsters or is it more of a metaphor?"
Dust walks down the empty halls as he checks corner after corner "I think it is both. The mansion is the metaphorical nest. but the first in the chain will remain inside the actual nest nest as its underlings do the work to make underlings nad collect like the sex energy?" he probably should have read up on them before this job.
Ash nods "Right! You got the amulet ready?"
Dust nods "Just need to get close enough. Which should be easy enough."
Ash snorts and nods "Just act interested." he looks amsued "I am sure your boyfriends will love to know you flirted with another demon."
Dust glares at his brother "stop calling them my boyfriends."
Ash laughs and Dust rolls his eye lights only to yelp as he almost runs into someone.
Dust glances up and glares "Killer!" well he assumes it is still killer and not cross as killer had had body dips "What are you doing out of bed?!" he hisses as he glances around nervously.
Killer grins at him and smiles "I wanted to be with you!" and he hugs him as the hands wander. Dust doesn't even think as he just hits him on the top of his skull. hard.
Killer yelps and pulls back with a pout.
Dust glares "Where is Cross?" Killer has the nerve to look confused around him but Dust just shakes his skull at him "Nevermind. Stay quiet and don't mess this up or so help me!" he turns and continues on his path.
Ash huffs as Killer "way to lose your buddy in a buddy system. You lot had one job."
Killer just ignores Ash and Ash huffs angerly "Dsut! your boyfriend is ignoring me again!"
Dust hfufs "No my boyfriend."
Killer blinks "wha-"
Dust glares a thim "hush. I am working." and he checks another corner. He feels a hand trail his hip and he just kicks backwards.
A loud groan and Dust shoots Killer an unamused look "No need to be so dramatic. You are a skeleton. you don't even have a dick out at the moment." if killer has summoned his ecto in a place that is infested with sex demons dust would have actually marshed him outside and locked him in the van. Dust will apologise to cross later if he actualyl hurt his body.
Dust takes afew more steps and looks back annoyed "Either keep up or get to a safe space i am not in the mood to drag you along." Killer just groans and Dust rolls his eye lights as he walks away. seems like killer jsut wants to be dramatic.
Ash looks insulted "can't beleive that asshole ignored me the whole time."
Dust shrugs "Killer just is like that sometimes. Any demons?"
Ash shrugs "Not that i noticed wandering."
and they walk deeper into the building. Dust quickly finds the kitchena dn looks around "There should be a wine cellar we can still check." the only places they hadn't checked in the tour and originally sweep fo the place are the cellar, attic and the shed in the garden. But Dust doubts it will be the shed as that would be too far away from the mansion stuff for the demons to easily enjoy.
He searches and grins when he finally finds it. he crouches down and tugs on the panel.
"How is that going?"
Dust jumps and looks back just to glare "Ngihtmare i keep telling you to not sneak up on me!" he glances around but no one is nearby. Dust turns back to open the door to the cellar "You better not have been followed."
Ash huffs "YOu saw the idiot in the hallway on your way or did Killer go back to the room?"
Nightmare hums as he leans closer "I did not see anyone along the way." he looks down into the cellar before looking at Dsut with a grin "Getting some wine?" he looks amused.
Dust just looks unamused at him as he starts climbing down "You know very well what i am doing. stop playing dumb." and he climbs down. He looks around the cellar but just sees rows and rows of bottles. mmh. He walks forwards as he ignores Ngihtmare joining him.
He makes sure to check for anymore trapdoors and pathways downwards but it seems there is only one level to this place. which is gigantic btw.
Dust glares "Honestly who needs this much wine?"
Ash snorts "Maybe they are alcoholics?"
Dust freezes and laughs as he shakes his skull "maybe!" and he snorts.
Nightmare joins his side and puts a hand behind him on the small of his back. euh?
Dust shoots him an unamused look "Ngihtmare."
Ngihtmare smiles back "Dust." and he leans closer "We are all alone."
Ash coughes loudly "excuse you?!"
Nightmare acts as if he didn't hear Ash "No one to interrupt us having a moment. We can get comfortable. Open a wine bottle or two and well." he smiles "just enjoy each other's company."
Dustjust stares at him. Ngihtmare keeps smiling. Dust keeps staring. His smile slwoly drops as Ngihtmare glances to the side before looking back at him with a new smile.
Dust speaks slwoly "You are going. to remove your hand. from my hip. Or lose it." and he smiles back.
Nightmare slowly removes the hand.
Dust huffs and turns towards the exit "You two are acting worse than normal tonight. Honestly. here of all places!"
Ash floats after him "you need to train your not-boyfriends better."
Dust huffs "working on it." and he climbs the ladder.
Dust leaves the cellar and makes his way towards the attic. He meet skiller along the way but killer is still being his annoying self as he tries to grope him and rub against him from behind. Dust obviously hits him in the area of the kidneys and that makes him stop.
Weirdest part is that Dust ahsn't seen either Horror or Cross yet however. maybe those two are actually sticking together? In that case Dust wishes Nightmare nad Killer would stay together and watch each other's backs.
He meets Ngihtmare just as he gets to the cellar and Nightmare smiles a thim but Dust just points behind him "No. You either go meet up wiht Killer and watch each other's backs. Or you are going to look for Horror and stay with the original buddy system."
Ngihtamr elooks confused "Horror?"
Dust sighs "Yes. Horror. YOu know? the person who you were suposed to stick together with?!" Dust just sighs annoyed as Nightmare keeps looking confused. Dust just points down the hallway and glares "Go meet up with either of them. I am fine and hoenstly it is a lot easier without either of you distracting me. Leave." and he climbs the ladder towards the attic before closing the door behind him.
THERE!
Ash sighs "They are so rude tongiht. They keep ignoring me!" he pouts.
Dust shrugs as he inches around the attic. He feels a warm air around them and smells many different scented candles around.
Dust moves slowly as he glances around a corner. There is a whole group od maids and servants all cuddled together. all having this hazed look about them as they cuddle together. Dust searches the group and tries to find who the leader is.
Ash mutters "it is a whole harem. at elast we found the nest. Let me search the area." and he flies off as Dust studies those here.
He slowly takes the amulet out of his scarf and pushes it up one of his sleeves. Now it is just a matter of finding the right target and-
A tap on his shoulder and Dust glares before freezing. ah shit that is the butler.
the butler tilts his head at him "Hello. Is there soemthing we can help you with?"
Dust thinks as he tries to think of an excuse "I... thought i heard something... and got curious... I apologise." he mutters as he tugs deeper into the hood. He can smell the demon's scent now. His mind is starting to ache of all the different energies and magics trying to pull him under a trance.
The butler nods "I do apologise that we bothered you." a hand is slowly nudging him towards the nest. Dust lets it happen.
Dust glances back and sees Ash fly near one of teh nobels. the son it seems. Ash is pointing at him and points to his neck. Dust glances and spots the mark and tiny cut. seems like that is where the original demon shared their blood through. and the son brought it back here and got to work.
Dust lets the butler lead him right into the nest as a very people push themselves against him. smiling at him and rubing his sides.
Dust mutters about feleing flattered but not really being into this thing. making a show of scooting away from the maids offering this while making sure the movement brings him clsoer to the nobel's son.
The butler just bows and leaves to get food and refreshments around as Dust keeps moving strategically until he is right by his target.
The son chuckles and smiles at him. his eyes a pure pink as the demonic energy has taken him over completely "Is there someone you have in mind? We can make your wildest dreams come true?" his form shimmers and Dust blinks in shock as he for a moment looks like Killer. Not jsut killer in cross's body but actual killer. The spirit he met. a moment later he looks like acutal cross. then nightmare, the nightmare he knows not the version they know. and a moment later like horror.
Then the nobel looks like himsefl again as he frowns "I can't seem to be able to settle... your interest seems... divided." he grins "but we are with many... you just need to let us and we will happily bring you bliss and whatever you desire-"
Dust cuts him up by showing the amulet right in his face. The amulet works right away and the pink light leaves his eyes and the people around him all shudder and seem to drop like flies.
Dust is left surrounded by unconcious bodies all in different levels of undressed.
Dust and Ash are quiet.
Ash shoots him a disapproving look "Serioously?! You find them attractive?!" he sounds insulted.
Dust sputters "No?! Maybe? I don't know?! Maybe it is just... I only had contact wiht them?! So that is all the magic could pick up?!" he dind't find them attractive! Right? Like. He never thought any of those kind of things about them!
Sure he found it more annoying than insulting when killer or cross climbed in his bed but that was just because he is used to it! and nightmare. well. nightmare made it obvious he is just in it for the negative emotions! And horror is just a pleasant guy!
Dust crosses his arms "there is nothing there. they are just guys i actually hang out with aside form you. Stupid demons must think because those are the only relationships i have going that it are those type of things."
Ash looks unconvinced but nods "lets just look for the lord and tell him you found the source. get actual payment for this dumpster fire."
Dust couldn't agree more.
--
The lord of the house was horrified to realise what had happened. as those influenced did keep some of their memories from the whole ordeal. He ended up paying them extra for the work and assaults they had to suffer.
Dust was unamused to find otu that SOMEONE had killed the lord's duaghter.
Luckily it was rather easy to blame someone else aside form them on that and wiht the demonic energy having gone around the lord wasn't that interested in a full blown investigation.
The nobel son had almost no memories or the whole thing. in his mind he wasn't even suposed to be home yet but still on a skiing trip with his friends.
Yeah.
It was a fucking disaster.
But Dust got a nice payout and even a large bonus for not giving up on them and still fixing their issue and also some apology money. and hush money to not sure that the family had gotten infected.
The drive back was awkward as Dust shoots the others a look "You guys are more quiet than usual..." he glances forwards again. He hadn't been worried before but maybe something happened after all? "did... are you guys okay? None of them got to you?"
Killer is quick to hug and nuzzle him "of course not! I would never cheat on you love! You are the one i love and the only one i TRULY desire!"
Dust frowns at him "I wasn't.. I didn't mena that! I just... you guys weren't hurt right?" he hadn't... he figured it would have been fine but he hadn't thought there would ahve been that many...
Killer shakes his skull and muttered "a few tried but none of them got to me! I figured it out quickly and just ran around the whole night!" he looks proud of himself. Cross nods his agreement and confirmed that is all that happened.
Horror speaks calmly "a few tried wiht nightmare as well. but none succeed. we got out of the area of them and hid." he glances at nightmare. waiting.
Ngihtmare waves it off "More insulting than anything. them thinking i would even want them." he hasn't looked at them yet.
huh...
Dust files that information away. Seems like they had stuck to the buddy system after all...
Maybe this whole trip had beena bad idea after all...
He shakes his skull.
No. There is nothing there. THe demons must have just confused the casual relationships they have for interested. That must be it. There is no way Dust is actually interested.
No way at all.
#utmv#ghosts & medium au#dust sans#nightmare sans#killer sans#cross sans#horror sans#and dust remained in denial :)#Meanwhile nightmare has to actually take a hard look at his own feelings and interests#meanwhile killer is feeling bad for kinda emotionally cheating?!#like sure maybe nightmare is hot but it isn't like that dust!#he only loves you!#he is only looking he swears!#cross nad horror both have forbidden knowledge and are unsure what to do about it.#they also don't know that them also seeing the illusion means that... it is also THEIR interest#so they don't want to expose themselves to the one person who actually knows.#the incubus and sucubus just look like the person/people their victim desires the most.#it is why Ash also saw the illusions.#because DUST desires them. and dust was the victim.#Ash was just there to see the illusion#it is why they were only attacked when alone.#because the succubus and incubus don't normally contorl the illusions. they jsut let the magic and emotions do the work.#and it would be fucking awkward if they transformed into someone. only for their victim to be RIGHT NEXT to the person they look like.#and the person the look like to see them look like that.#but yeaj#also dust is never going to acknowledge what he learned. he knows what it means. he just refuses to entertain that thought.#so denial <3
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Love That Bites Pt. 11
Hi! Here's part 11 to my Dracula x Reader series! I apologize for the huge delay, I've had a lot going on IRL, so I haven't has as much time/energy to write as I would have liked. Still, I hope you enjoy! I hope to have more happen in the next chapter as well, hopefully some action! Summary: Dracula finally manages to get things running somewhat smoothly, only to run into a snag when it comes to the potions he's had made for you. Thankfully, it isn't as big of a setback as it could be, so long as he can see you beginning to heal. During all of it, he begins to recognize some old feelings...
CW: Injury mention, death mention, brief description of injury, thoughts of murder,
Word Count: 6244 Words!
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Tag List: @pumpkinvampie, @bethleeham, @mshope16, @sixsixtwenty, @haleypearce, @rvautomatic, @tinystarfishgalaxy, @marshmelloe, @maorizon, @ursamajor17, @sapphicsfordracula, @dame-sunflowers, @sleepyendymion, @starrlo0ver, @onewiththebeanbag First: Here! Last: Here! Next: Here! - - -
Dracula was beginning to wonder just how you had managed to survive so long on your own.
He wasnât doubting your skills. In fact, Dracula could tell from a glance you were a powerful fighter, much like your ancestors had been. He wouldnât be surprised if you were one of the strongest Belmonts yet.
No, he was concerned over how you seemed lacking when it came to taking care of yourself.
Sure, you had bandaged yourself on the way to his castle, and he was thankful you seemed to have some sort of survival instinct.
But he noticed you didnât put in too much effort though in your own health overall.
It wasnât just from how you came to his castle recently, but something he had noticed long before he had been freed.
After the first few times he saw you, it was clear to him. You would briefly mention your headaches, and your homelife, how you just âdealtâ with it.
You had mentioned to him in a joke how even though you had been sick at one point, you just pushed through it while sleeping in your car for a week.
He couldnât ask you at the time why you did such things, being trapped in stone. Now, he felt it would be counterproductive to ask you. Not until you were comfortable around him.
But it was a horrifying thing you mentioned offhandedly while eating a sandwich, and you refused to elaborate. Why would you put yourself through that?
Add that to his mental list of reasons why he had to investigate your home life. If anything, that was blatantly unhealthy. How the hell was your immune system putting up such a fight on its own if that was how you handled being sick at your home?
How did you handle most injuries before you met him? A part of him really did not wish to find out, but he couldnât help but feel the desire to know.
Dracula was at least thankful you mentioned a small cabin once. After you had mentioned it while he was stone, you realized what you had said, and were quick to try and change the subject. You had not meant to tell him about it, it seemed.
But he was thankful at least that you had a small place nearby to rest.
At one point throughout the day as he checked in on you, he briefly considered going to see this cabin, or sending a scout to see where it was. However, he dismissed this idea almost as soon as he had thought it.
Youâd no doubt be upset if you found out he had done so, and he would be willing to bet you had traps all over the land leading up to your small sanctuary away from your home.
It was only logical to assume so. You had found his castle nearby your own property.
Something he didnât fail to see irony in. Of course his castle would choose a place nearby a Belmontâs property.
Still, if it had been him in your situation, he would have placed traps on top of traps once finding out such a thing. Sending an underling was just asking for it to either be captured, destroyed, or injured. Or for such information to spread to less enthusiastic minions who were disgruntled about your stay here.
No doubt when you inevitably left, you would check the traps, or at least notice one out of place, if not finding a dead monster's remains on your land. Dracula couldnât afford to have you lose trust in him just because he was curious.
Yes⌠Dracula would wait, and put his patience to the test. Heâd try to get you to open up to him, and show him yourself.
You already were showing you didnât detest him, something that was bringing an old warmth to his cold heart.
Heâd even wager you opened up to him just a little earlier, when you had mentioned your injuries had been from something personal.
Sure, it wasnât a large amount of information, but it was progress.
Now, he just had to keep this progress going forward, something Dracula knew was not going to be smooth sailing as he had hoped. There was already unrest in the castle, he could just feel it.
No one had said anything to him, but Dracula was more in tune with his castle and its magic than people gave him credit for. Every being here had energy that was woven with the castleâs in some way shape or form.
And people were anxious.
Some were restless, some were afraid. Many were irritated.
A Belmont being treated as a guest? He knew it would only be a matter of time before someone or something acted out.
Dracula just hoped it wouldnât be at your expense. He could clean any other mess as need be, but he wouldnât stand you being injured further.
Alas, he couldnât act unless someone else acted out first, or he could see they were planning something that involved you. Dracula, loathe as he may to admit it, would only cause more unrest by acting too hastily.
That was fine though, he could bide his time.
The only thing that had him on edge was your current injuries. Or rather, he didnât want you fighting with your injuries and making them worse, especially after your healing has been progressing nicely.
Speaking of which, You were healing incredibly quickly. If it wasnât for your lineage, he would have guessed you had some sort of distant supernatural blood in your veins, such as vampirism.
Still, even though you were healing at an impressive rate, it still wasnât enough. Your injuries by all means could have killed you, and they were still deep and fresh.
His fingers tapped on the wood of his desk in his study, concern no doubt etched clear on his features.
Those potions should be finished today, or at least the first batch of them. The stronger type usually required a longer amount of time to simmer for better healing effects. Time though, was not something he could afford, so a batch of the regular sort would have to do.
Of course, heâd have to thoroughly check them himself after his alchemists were finished. He had not explained who the potions were for when he had ordered it to be done, but now, there was no doubt in his mind the ones creating the potions knew it was for a hunter.
Unfortunately, he couldnât even trust most of his underlings with this. Even his more trusted ones, he was going to be forced to keep an eye on.
The chances of his alchemists messing with your potions were low, but not impossible. Thankfully, he knew potions very well after studying them centuries ago. Dracula was confident he could catch any âunneededâ ingredients that might slip in the finished batch.
However, he hated that he would have to check.
âHow bothersomeâŚâ he mumbled as he pressed his face into the palm of one of his hands.
Looking for poison itself wasnât the issue, itâs something heâll gladly do. It was the fact this would mean it would take longer to get the potions to you that irritated him.
If the potions were tampered with, like he worried they might be, heâd probably have to make them himself. Something he would also do without pause, but again, he didnât wish for you to stay injured any longer than necessary.
Dracula rubbed his eyes for a moment, wondering how he had grown so protective of you like a mother hen.
The last time he could remember fretting over someone, was whenever his late wife had gotten sick, or when his son fell ill once or twice.
Back before everything fell apart.
He sighed, feeling another migraine coming on. It wouldnât do well to think of that now. The less distractions, the better.
At least one good thing came from this. You were receptive to him checking in on you. Dracula doubted you would trust any of his underlings to do it, or at least any of them bringing you meals.
Not without him there to supervise, it seemed.
It was small, but that amount of trust you had in him was a lot for the circumstances.
Dracula felt another sigh escape his lips, and he ignored the temptation to lay his head on his desk like a daydreaming school boy.
What were you doing to him? Had the Great Dracula really fallen for a Belmont?
His eyes widened slightly at his own thoughts.
Fallen? No. Though he detested the idea of admitting he had a schoolboy crush.
He could at least admit he felt fonder for you than some human teenager just figuring themselves out, thank you very much.
Deep down however, thinking about this unsettled him.
Dracula cared for you. He could admit that in his head whole heartedly. Somehow, the Little Belmont had wormed their way into his cold, dead heart without even trying.
But he feared to think about what that meant for him. His life. His future. Your future.
The trust between you two was rocky, but it was there. Could he really push to have you trust him more? Was that really a future he could hope for? Try for? To even care about?
Was it even worth it?
Dracula ran a hand through his hair, and debated summoning another glass of blood to sooth the migraine he could already feel forming in his temples.
Himself and your family had been doomed to fight for centuries. Would even trying to open up the possibilities of at least a friendship be very wise?
Looking from the outside, it seemed like something doomed to fail.
So why did he want to try?
His fingers began to thrum idly on the desk again.
The answer was still the same as before. It was you.
You were different. Different from most Belmonts.
Was wanting to bet on that difference really worth the possible pain? Heartbreak? Potential agony?
Vladâs eyes drifted over to a portrait that hung in his private study. One depicting his precious Lisa.
Lisa had been worth it, even if his time with her had been so cruelly cut short. He knew her time with her would have been limited, as she had wanted to stay human. It was one of the things that had made her so precious.
One of the few things he regretted was not being there for her when she needed him most. Probably one of his biggest regrets, alongside not being next to Elisabetha when she passed back when he had been human.
So perhaps⌠This too, would be worth it.
He could not deny that this was a golden opportunity. If, by small chance, he could change fateâŚ
Perhaps he would not have to suffer being killed once more, and this damned cycle between him and your family could finally break.
Dracula was no fool. He was sure this cycle affected your family just as much as it did him. Ever since Leon, almost every Belmont has had to learn to fight creatures of the night. Either to be a hunter, or to avoid simply being the prey.
No doubt not every Belmont liked this, and judging from the small glimpses of your home life he has seen, the Belmont clan seems to have fallen into disrepair.
There was a darkness in your eyes when you spoke about your home, one that had him worrying all over again.
That was something else he was going to have to focus on. Your life at home.
Given that your clan was full of vampire hunters, even if he did by chance get your homeâs location, he doubted himself or any of his underlings would be able to get too close. Surveillance wouldnât be an easy option, or most likely would not be an option at all.
Unless, of course, your familyâs home and protections have also deteriorated. Perhaps getting close to the home wouldnât be as big of an issue.
But alas, he wouldnât risk most of his underlings finding your home like that. He has a few he trusts, sure, but he couldnât in good faith let most of them know where you lived.
All it would take is one slip up, and your home would no doubt be swarmed. Even if it wasnât monsters from his circles, it wouldnât take much from other groups to learn and decide to exterminate you en masse.
Even if no one could penetrate your homeâs defenses, it wouldnât be hard to stage an ambush to have you assassinated the moment you left your property. Or anyone else that lived with you.
Draculaâs eyes narrowed at that thought. Oh, how that was tempting, just to see those who may have hurt you torn to shreds.
But he had to wait. Heâd have vengeance for you one way or another.
Before he could contemplate who he had to murder, he heard a brisk knock at his door. Crimson eyes narrowed, and with his mask slipping back into place, he sat back in his chair.
âEnter.â
Large doors to his study creaked open, and one of the alchemists he had working on your potions stepped into the room. A young man who had answered the Castleâs magical call for power and safety.
The young man before him tried not to tremble under his gaze, barely making eye contact before looking at a different part of the room. Dracula had to hold back an annoyed sigh.
A shame those who could create potions were few and far between, leaving him with such a sniveling fool. At least he could get the job done, along with the few others he had working under him.
âIs the task I set for you and the others finished?â he asked, thrumming his fingers against the desk once again, a bored look on his face.
Swallowing nervously, the alchemist nodded, before remembering he needed to speak.
âY-Yes, milord. The first batch of potions has finished, butâŚâ
Dracula raised an eyebrow. He was already nearing the end of his patience.
âBut?â
The young man flinched, and the vampire tried not to roll his eyes.
âIâm afraid, ah⌠this batch wonât be that potent, due t-to us having to rushâŚâ
As if Dracula didnât already anticipate that.
No matter though. What was important was getting you something to fend back the majority of your injuries. Even if it is just enough to help you fight infection and mend a few patches of skin, it was better than nothing.
âIâm aware of the effect of making potions on such short notice. Is that everything?â
For a split second, the alchemistâs heartbeat spiked, and he avoided looking at the Vampire Lord. Dracula forced his face to remain neutral.
How curious.
âThatâs everything, sir.â
Almost immediately, the shadows in the room crawled forward, and the temperature dropped a noticeable amount.
Dracula stood up from his chair to his full height, and leaned over his desk. His claws dug into the wood, and his eyes grew black and red.
âTell me, Alchemist, why are you lying to me?â
A squeak left the young manâs lips, and he physically shrunk in on himself. No one wanted to be on Draculaâs bad side.
âI donât tolerate liars in my court.â
The Alchemist fell backwards onto the floor in a scramble, and shuffled backwards a few feet. The door magically shut behind him, and he looked as if he were to faint.
Dracula felt the air grow heavy around him, and the pathetic man in front of him began to pant and shake.
âNow, what is it you are hiding from me?â
The threat was clear as day. Should the young man in front of him lie, or do something foolish, he would not live to see tomorrow.
Swallowing thickly, the Alchemist shakily stood to his feet.
âI⌠As I was finishing up my batch of potions, I overheard a few of the witches talking.â
Dracula had the tension in the air lesson to a degree. The boy in front of him was willing to speak, so he may as well not make it too difficult, lest the coward faint.
Though he made sure his displeasure was apparent.
âGo on.â Eyes darted between him and other parts of the room, the Alchemist shrunk in on himself further before speaking.
âI⌠I overheard them talking about how they think the hunter has bewitched you. That the hunter is going to kill you, and everyone involved.â
Dracula wanted to scoff. Just mild gossip. He wasnât surprised it was already making the rounds, though heâd have to keep an eye on it lest it fester into something unmanageable without conflict.
Rumors and resentment building would only cause unrest, and the less he had to deal with, the better.
âAnd just who were the witches who were discussing this?â The man swallowed. âI donât know.â âSo you didnât think to get a look on who it might be?â He shook his head, fingers twitching idly.
âNo sir. ButâŚâ
Dracula could feel the throbbing in his temples. Perhaps he should summon some wineâŚ
â...The witches talked about wanting to do something before it was too late.â
Now that caught Draculaâs attention.
âThey what?!â
The Alchemist winced, though straightened up a little now that Draculaâs ire wasnât entirely directed at him.
âI-I have no evidence, nor was I able to follow them, but- I think some of them might be planning something, sir.â
The roomâs temperature dropped further, and at the moment, the Alchemist felt like his soul left his body.
Dracula was well known for his fury.
How his anger was icy, yet his fury ran hot.
âPlanning something?â
His voice was low, in a way that was like a growl. Like a predator readying to bite down on the neck of its prey. It was inviting, yet it had the survival instincts of anything around him screaming to run.
The wind picked up around the castle, and lightning began to strike across the clouded sky. The flashes of light only seemed to emphasize the anger on his face.
Briefly, The King of the Night hoped you werenât bothered by the pick up of the storm. Surely youâd notice the change in atmosphereâŚ
But that was something he could check in with you later.
âAnd do you happen to know just what they might be planning? Or which ones it even was?â
Draculaâs mind was beginning to work overtime. Which witches lingered near the Alchemy lab? He's going to have to do a sweep it seemed, and soon. At least Castlevania would give him some insight should he ask for it.
If some of his underlings were already conspiring against himâŚ
The boy in front of him was eerily silent, and Dracula held back from snapping. Killing the fool wouldnât solve any of his issues, especially as he needed him for now.
Then, a thought suddenly hit Dracula, and he sat back into his seat, his claws growing sharper.
âBoy, where is the finished batch of potions?â
The Alchemist froze for a moment, taken aback by the sudden question.
âUm⌠In the labs?â
Draculaâs eyes sharpened, almost glowing red.
âAnd is there anyone or anything protecting the finished batch of potions in the labs?â
âAhâŚâ
Running a hand across his face, Dracula fought the urge to kill something.
He was going to need that drink before visiting you.
â
Much to Draculaâs disappointment (and hidden fury), it was just as he had expected.
He had decided to check on the batch of the potion himself after that conversation, just to be sure it hadnât been tampered with.
It was something he was already going to do, but now it was incredibly important to do so after hearing what the Alchemist had to say.
Just as he had feared, the main batch that had been left out had indeed been soiled.
The potion itself was a darker blue than it should have been, a first tell that something wasnât quite right. Then there was the smell.
Potions already smelled a bit bland, with a hint of bitterness to them. However, he was able to catch the scent of something almost sour.
The texture itself was also a bit⌠thick. Closer to a cream rather than the liquid form it was supposed to have.
Dracula felt his brow twitch with thinly veiled disdain.
With a sigh, and barely hidden rage, he ended up banishing the whole batch. No point in taste testing when he could already smell the signs of tampering. The only thing he would be able to get out of a test would be what ingredients specifically had been added, but there was no point. Not when he already knew the results.
It seems he would have to keep a closer eye on things than he thought.
Even if the alchemists and potioneers he had working on this were as trustworthy as they could get, it seemed that there was only so much he could do before the rats began to poke their noses where they didn't belong.
As much as he hated to section off parts of the lab, it seems he would have to until you were healed, or he found all the idiots involved who dared try and pull a fast one on him.
Thankfully however, not everything was lost.
Dracula was thankful that moment for employing several alchemists to the lab for different batches of potions. He could just take from those, since they would have a similar effect.
The other alchemists were to keep working on different batches of potions, so he could have stronger ones brewing while the first batch was finished. This meant there would be less powerful ones, sure, but he would simply have more made.
What mattered was getting this first batch to you.
You may be healing relatively quickly and well, but he was quickly growing to dislike seeing you injured.
The shadows under your eyes, and how sunken in your face looked, added to your winces of pain⌠He hoped that he could help with that by taking care of your wounds.
It would be a long journey, he was sure. No doubt it would take more than just healing your injuries to actually have you looked⌠alive.
That was what had his cold, undead heart beating worriedly in his chest.
You didnât look like you were living.
Sure, your blood pumped, your heart still beats, but you didnât have a happy light in your eyes. Dracula could mistake you for one of his minions with how those eyes alone looked.
He was thankful though, seeing a spark in them. It was subtle, and only showed up on occasion.
However, he found himself yearning to protect it.
Ha. Him. Lord of the Night. King of all Vampires, wanting to protect his own supposed enemy. Even more so, with such⌠feelings developing.
Dracula still wasnât sure whether to find it amusing, or pitiful.
The beast in his mind that he had embraced so long ago surprisingly didnât fight him on it. At first, it had called him pathetic the first time he found himself wanting to help you.
But that same beast had quickly done a 180, quickly growing to respect you much like his logical side had.
And oh, how it had quickly grown protective.
Dracula felt his lips almost twitch upward at the thought, feeling the very same protectiveness stir in his soul as he approached your door.
He gave a brisk knock at the door, casting a brief glance to the living armors he had stationed near your room. Stone still as always.
After a brief moment, he heard your voice, telling him to come in.
Carefully he opened the door, and it was as if a weight was lifted off his chest just seeing you. The way you subtly perked up when seeing him, sitting up in your bedâŚ
He tried not to let his pride get to him, how it was him that you were sitting up for.
âOne step at a time, Vlad.â
The scent of your blood though soon quickly caught his nose, and he felt himself stand straighter as he walked quickly to your side.
âYour injuries⌠did one re-open?â He was quick to ask, internally scolding himself when he felt the urge to have a taste.
For a Belmont, your blood was still such an intoxicating scentâŚ
Sheepishly, you looked away from him after he arrived at your side.
âAh⌠I fell on the way to the restroom. I accidentally pulled some stitches open, but I got the wound under control.â
If he had been a human, he would have sworn you were trying to give him a heart attack at this rate. How was it you were such a trouble magnet?
Gently, he leaned over you, his hands hovering over where your shirt was. Underneath, he could already smell the irritated wound and fresh blood.
His eyes met your own.
âMay I?â He asked, desiring to see how bad it had gotten. His voice was soft and tender, not wishing to push you or make you uncomfortable.
You froze for a moment, and a glimmer of emotion passed in your eyes. However, it left as quick as it came, and you carefully pulled your arms up to give him access.
Even now, Dracula was still incredibly impressed with the trust you were giving him. If this had been any of your ancestors, or any hunter, really, he would no doubt be in a fight.
Gently, his cool hands brushed against your warm skin as he lifted your shirt upwards to see the bandaged wound. He pointedly ignored the shiver you have, no doubt his cold hands most likely the cause.
At least, thatâs what he told himself, also ignoring how you tensed slightly. Or how he heard your pulse pick up as he got closer.
It was not the time to let his mind wander and theorize.
Dracula would give you credit, though. Your pain tolerance wasnât anything to scoff at, and you were taking everything in stride, even now.
He removed the bandages with a gentle ease, and immediately internally stomped down the sudden hunger he felt.
The fresh scent of your blood still somehow managed to drive him crazy, even when he wasnât starving.
To think heâd find a Belmontâs blood so appealing?
It took a bit of his will power to calm himself, before continuing to look at the wound. Pursing his lips, he let out a hum.
His hands held your midsection still as he observed the new damage, ignoring your sharp intake of air.
âApologiesâŚâ He mumbled, knowing full and well his hands were most likely even colder the closer they were to your feverish flesh.
âNo worriesâŚâ You breathed, your voice small. His eyes flickered up to your face, and your own were wide as you watched him. Still vigilant, even now. Cute.
Eyes back on your wound, he felt a bit of relief. Thankfully you hadnât torn open as many stitches as he had feared, and you had cleaned the wound up well.
It seems getting rest and meals was helping you both physically, and mentally. You werenât hanging on a thread, wrapping wounds with little regard to your life now.
Really, he shouldnât be surprised. Even if he was worried about how you thought of yourself and your health in general, you of all people would know how to properly wrap a wound when in good conditions to do so.
After a moment, he pressed the bandages back onto your injury, and stepped back.
âDespite several stitches being pulled, it could have been worse.â
You pull your shirt down, and smile sheepishly.
âThatâs good. It didnât look too bad, but Iâm glad you agree.â You spoke, rubbing the back of your neck a bit nervously.
It seemed you were still on edge, though he didnât mind too much.
He looked you over for a moment as you fixed your shirt. You really were looking better than when you first arrived. Even from when he saw you this morning, you seemed to be improving.
At least, he was definitely thankful you no longer looked like you were dead on your feet.
Clearing his throat for a moment, he nearly smirked at how you almost jumped. Most would have missed how your muscles tensed, though he decided to count the fact he wasnât outright scaring you a plus.
âI have something for you.â
Immediately your interest was piqued.
How you subtly leaned towards him and tilted your head, you were curious.
âYou do?â
He stepped back for a moment, before holding out his hand. In a flash of smoke and light, a bottle appeared in his hand.
As he held it out to you, your eyes widened as you gently took it from his grip.
âA potion? You really made some?â
Dracula crossed his arms a bit in pride as you looked over the bottle.
âOf course. Youâll find I am not fond of breaking promises, or going back on my word.â
You took a moment to look over the bottle you now held in your hands, almost disbelieving. Dracula felt a pang of something in his heart. Pity? Worry? He wasnât sure, but he didnât like how astounded you looked over the fact he would get you some basic potions.
âI do apologize in advance. Due to the fact your injuries were severe, I had this made as fast as possible. It wonât heal you completely, but it should heal the worst of your wounds.â
For a moment, you were silent, clearly thinking.
âIf you are worried about it being poisoned-â he began, but you raised a hand to cut him off.
âNo! No, itâs fine. Sorry. I trust it isnât poisoned.â You spoke. After another moment, you pulled the cork off the bottle, and debated if you should take a sip.
âHowever, I do wish to warn you about something.â Dracula said, speaking before you could drink it. He may as well tell you now, before you take a drink. No doubt youâd be upset if he told you after.
You froze, looking at him expectantly.
âYesâŚ?â
Dracula let out a frustrated sigh, a hand coming up to his forehead just thinking about it.
âSomeone has tried to tamper with one of the batches of potions I have commissioned to be made.â
Your eyes widened, flickering to the potion, but he held up a hand to try and calm you before you could panic.
âI tossed that batch out after testing it myself. I can assure you the potion you hold in your hand has been deemed clean by myself personally. That one you hold in your hand was not supposed to go to you today. It was a batch that was supposed to simmer for a few more days.â
âTo become a stronger batchâŚâ You murmured, and Dracula felt a small twinge of pride. He supposes it shouldnât be a surprise you would know such things, given how often you probably used potions in general.
âSo⌠Someone wanted me deadâŚ?â You asked, still eyeing the bottle critically. Draculaâs face turned a bit more sour.
âUnfortunately so. I will not lie to you, having you as my guest has⌠ruffled some feathers. Iâm currently investigating those I believe tried to lace the potion with poison.â
Bright eyes flickered to him, and he caught that look, one of near disbelief.
âWhy? I donât particularly blame them, Iâm a hunter, after allâŚâ You murmured once again, eyes glancing back to the bottle.
âBecause you are my guest. I will not tolerate those who wish to go against my orders, and attempt to kill the company I deemed worthy to keep.â
Dracula wondered if you werenât used to such thoughts, with the way he saw emotions flicker across your face, gone as quick as they came.
Summoning a chair from the side of the room, he sat down, placing his elbows on his knees as he rested his chin over his clasped hands.
âIf you donât wish to drink that potion, I will not force you. It will just take a longer period for you to fully recover. I will not blame you for doing so.â
After all, he just admitted someone tried to use a different batch to kill you. He wouldnât blame you for being careful.
You seemed to think for a moment, and Dracula decided to keep speaking as you thought about it.
âI also wish to officially inform you that unrest is beginning to stir in the castle. However,â Dracula began, taking in your expression of slight alarm, âI once again wish to reiterate something. You are allowed to protect yourself. I will not vilify you if you defend yourself from an attack.â
It was the truth. He had means to see if it was self defense, or a planned attack. He doubted you would attack unprompted.
You look at him a bit confused.
âBut⌠How would you know it was self defense? The monsters who want me dead could just lie as a group, right?â
Dracula felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards. You had clearly been thinking about this, though he could tell it was something that must have weighed on your mind.
Not so much you thinking you could get away with attacking his subordinate, rather, you were worried about being attacked and thinking ahead.
He felt his lips curl into a small, amused smirk.
âI have my ways of figuring out what happens throughout my castle without being present.â
It was through his close connection with Castlevania, really.
Thanks to his connection, he was able to loosely figure out just who had tampered with your potions. Needless to say, it wasnât hard to get the two witches to admit it, with how weak willed they were.
His castle was now a few witches less. Not that it mattered.
It wasnât all of them, he was sure. Dracula still had a bit of investigating to do. The two he disposed of were just the ones who admitted to it, and Dracula could tell more were involved. No doubt he would be busy later looking further into the matter.
Some certainly werenât happy with him, but alas, that was what happened when you attempted to hurt those he was protecting.
You seemed a bit skeptical, or perhaps curious?
âUm⌠Is it through the power of Chaos you can?â
As soon as you asked it, a worried look appeared on your face.
âUh, if that isnât too personal of a question, I meanâŚ?â
He almost wanted to laugh. You were trying to be respectful, unsure if that was too much information to ask for.
âTrying to figure out a way to one up your enemy, hm?â He asked, though his lips ticked upwards in a full grin, clearly teasing you. Dracula could tell that wasnât what you meant.
âNo! Thatâs not what I-! I didnât- fuck, I mean-â
It was adorable how you sputtered, and tried to catch your words to apologize.
âRelax, Iâm only teasing you. Yes, itâs partially through the power of Chaos. Though Castlevania itself is bound to my very soul. Not much gets past me, should the castle alert me about it.â
You instantly relaxed at his words, and seemed to perk up in interest.
Once again, your eyes flickered to the bottle in your hand.
âIs that how you found out the last potion was poisoned?â
Dracula hummed, leaning back in the chair.
âNo. One of my Alchemists alerted me to the fact several witches were discussing how they were⌠unhappy about your presence. I decided to check on the potion early, even if it was finished. I simply had my castle assist me in finding out who had done it.â
Silence filled the room once more. It seemed you were unsure what you wanted to say next.
After a beat passed, you looked back at him.
âThank you, then. For checking. And for giving this to me.â
Your voice was soft, as was your smile.
If Dracula still breathed, he just knows his breath would have caught in his throat.
That was a smile that was worth protecting.
After you thanked him, you brought the bottle to your lips, and began to drink down the potion.
The effect was almost immediate. Even if he couldnât see most of your wounds, he could see how you changed.
You no longer favored one side, leaning oddly to the left. Nor did you hold your arm as close as before. In fact, your body seemed to relax even further, now that the worst of the injuries were finally repairing from the magic treatment.
When you finished the drink, you pulled the bottle away from your lips, a disgusted look on your face presumably due to the taste. You coughed for a moment, and shook your head a bit.
After gathering your bearings, you then looked back up to Dracula, and truly smiled.
For once, you looked happy. You looked alive.
Yes, Dracula thought. Pursuing a future where you two donât have to fight, would be one worth aiming for, just to see you smile once more.
#castlevania#dracula#castlevania dracula#vlad dracula tepes#dracula x reader#castlevania x reader#vlad dracula ČepeČ#x reader#reader insert#Belmont!reader#love that bites#long post#zed.writes
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from this idea/request
your dream job.
working with a boy kpop group as a marketing newbie.
they came to the united states for tour. you were excited to work for the one and only stray kids.
đĄđŤđ§
not proofread. please like, comment, reblog! do not repost or translate, tysm!!
âá˘. .á˘â âËâšâĄ
you could barely contain your excitement. even 2 weeks later and 4 shows later. you donât think youâd ever get over the fact you are literally working with the stray kids.
you didnât care if your job was to double check and make sure catering was okay. or if the wardrobe designers had everything they needed. or ran errands for food or other supplies.
it was all worth it to be able to be in close proximity with the stray kids.
your korean language knowledge lacked, however the boys were good speaking in english and hearing you talk in your native language. you once even apologized to them because you couldnât communicate with them in their language. even with simple words.
bang chan and felix looked at you like you had two heads and said to never apologize for that. it seemed the other boys didnât mind either.
you all communicated well enough to make sure everyone was on the same page.
right now you were carrying 2 big plastic bags and 2 drink carriers to the guysâ dressing room while they waited for press conference in boston.
opening the door softly, you bowed and walked in quietly as each boy was doing their own thing.
han was singing, lee know harmonizing. hyunjin and felix playing a game on their phone. seungmin and i.n. was napping. changbin and bang chan deep in conversation.
you were just surprised more chaos wasnât happening right now.
changbin and bang chan immediately saw you carrying everything and rushed to get up to help you.
âhere, let us help.â changbin said in his cute english accent.
âwe couldâve went and got our own take out.â bang chan smiled taking the drinks.
âitâs fine, part of the job.â you awkwardly replied.
âthank you so much!â felix smiled pausing his game with hyunjin.
you turned around to leave the boys, as your supervisor would yell at you for spending too much time lingering.
even though the boys (all 8) have even told you they didnât mind company.
they loved their u.s. staff.
âdo you want to join us? we got extra.â bang chan asked. what you didnât recognize in his tone was hope.
he was hoping you would say yes. but frowned when you shook your head politely. âi wish i could, but i should go see if my boss needs me for anything else.â you smiled and walked out of the dressing room.
your smile could melt bang chan.
what you didnât know, was that bang chan started to enjoy your company. the first day he met you, newbie to this industry and work, he loved the brightness your energy brought.
he wanted to call you sunshine in a nickname, but was scared to see how you would react.
him having a crush on staff? fine, okay.
but he knew you were probably drilled to not even look twice in their direction in that way or else youâd be terminated.
he didnât want to ruin this opportunity for you.
but he also wanted you. sexually? maybe. but even more so, just wanted to spend more time with you.
and he would find a way.
︜ęŚęˇâĄęˇęŚď¸ś
and bang chan did.
he had texted your personal cell asking for you to bring him something as he felt nauseous and had a headache.
it was rare bang chan asked for anything. at least, from what you observed.
so the fact he texted your personal cell rather than your work cell, your stomach dropped thinking something was truly wrong with him.
you even texted him back asking if you should bring back up, and he had said no.
bang chan: no, i just need you
bang chan: and the stuff i asked for, yeah
bang chanâs ears got red at the thought of the first text message and how it could be interpreted.
he waited anxiously in his private hotel room, pacing back and forth waiting for your knock.
what if you got the stuff but handed it off to security to bring to him? dang it, he shouldâve been more specific that he wanted you to hand it directly to him.
light knocks came to the door, and he smiled knowing it was you being polite, even with knocking on a door.
he opened it, seeing your worried face, and you pushed passed him.
âare you okay bang chan?â you asked frantically and took everything out the bag that could hopefully help him.
bang chan couldnât get sick and you would do everything you could to help that.
in reality, bang chan was fine.
âjust feeling a bit queasy.â he says with a fake frown. âno matter how much traveling we do, being in different time zones so many times do get to us.â
âi bet!â you turned to him finally seeing him. he was dressed in black sweatpants, black sleeveless shirt and house slippers.
those fucking muscles. you could literally drool at the sight. heck, you probably were. you had to blink rapidly to get your mind right.
âyes, right,â um you stuttered, noticing bang chan smiling. âiâi should go now.â
âstay for a while?â he asked, his question thick with his aussie accent.
âi donât knowâ,â
âplease? just for one movie at least?â
was this appropriate? probably not. you could potentially get fired. but couldnât you also get fired if you left your client unhappy?
youâd do anything to make the boys happy. anything. and you knew if you truly didnât want to, they wouldnât make you.
the thing isâyou wanted it all.
bang chan hoped you would agree. but he wouldnât hold you hostage if you said no.
please say yes, he internally begged.
you nodded, âokay.â
thankfully, you were dressed in comfy clothes because when he had texted you, you ran to the nearest convenience store in panic.
his room was big enough to have two big comfy chairs that had sight of the television on the wall.
âwhat kind of movies do you enjoy?â
âanything in mind yourself?â you asked.
âhow about the new marvel movie?â
âsounds good to me!â you smiled and hugged your knees close to your chest getting comfy on the chair as he got comfy on the other chair next to you.
if bang chan was bold enough, he wouldâve asked if you wanted to watch the movie while laying in bed.
but would that be too bold? he can hear some members say, ânot bold enough!â
how bold should he be with you? he did some lurking and found your personal social accounts. before you deleted any evidence, he found that you were a fan of theirs.
although he joked saying fans needed to touch some grass, he needed to touch some grass.
he saw the thirsty posts you had made of him before deleting. thatâs why he wore the sleeveless shirt.
going shirtless would be too much too soon.
bang chan was restless during the entire movie and you noticed quickly.
you got up and grabbed some of the medicine and pedialyte from the bag. âhere take this. youâre restless!â
âoh, um thank you.â he smiled timidly and took the the one pill and drunk the pedialyte.
âmaybe thatâll help.â you smiled sitting back down.
âi think I should lay down?â he asked more in a question rather than a statement.
âok, iâll leave you be.â you smiled and stood back up.
âno, can you stay? um, just make sure i donât vomit in my sleep?â bang chan wanted to cringe so badly at his own pleading.
âdonât you sleep naked?â you blurted without much thought and he laughed.
âyeah i do, but i can stay dressed for you.â he winked.
oh this flirt. this mister, âi donât know how to flirt.â
should you stay?
âyes, you should stay.â he said and you wanted to slap yourself as you found that you said that out loud.
bang chan got comfy in bed, turning off the television. he patted the empty spot next to him. you hesitated but remembered technically heâs your boss too.
the thought of sleeping with your boss? your celebrity crush whoâs your boss? amazing.
you sat next to him and you two got in comfortable conversation. it started with him asking how did you know you wanted a job like this and you replied it started in your teen years with the 17-magazine and teen vogue magazines wanting to be around celebrities and get to know them better.
like isnât it fun to be able to interview your favorite popular artists?
as time you went on, you suddenly yawned and looked at the clock on the hotel nightstand.
âshit! itâs almost 1 am!â
bang chan laughed. âwell, our show isnât until the day after tomorrow,â
âyou mean today? the day after today?â
âno. itâs not today until we sleep then wake up. regardless of time.â
you looked at him with interest. âthatâs an interesting way to put it.â
âeither way, we sleep, we wake up, we have nothing to do so we can sleep in.â
âwell depends if my boss needs me to do anything.â
âi can tell her to give you a day off. say i need you as my personal assistant.â
you laughed. âpersonal assistant in what? keeping you company.â
bang chan blushed. âmaybe.â he replied quietly with a smile.
âi can do that.â you replied.
was chan flirting with you? or was he just being his usual self?
no, this seemed like flirting. you doubt heâd just ask anyone for that.
âwell i can keep you company whenever we wake up.â
âand tonight. while we sleep?â bang chan stared at you, his brown eyes looking at you with hope.
âsleep?â you choked out nervously. sleep? with? bang chan?
you could literally combust.
âi donât have sleep clothes?â you questioned.
âi can lend you something if you need, unless you sleep naked too?â
you bit your bottom lip. should you do this?
âplease? i wonât do anything youâre not comfortable with. if you donât want me to touch you, i wont. iâi just really like your company.â bang chan admitted shyly.
how could you say no to that? âokay.â you smiled.
what you wish you could tell him was, âyes! touch me! iâll sign an additional nda!â
you got into bed next to bang chan, after dressing in a plain black oversized stray kids shirt he gave you. you denied needing any pants as it would just make you restless in your sleep.
the shirt covered all that needed to be covered.
you both laid in bed, facing each other with nervous smiles.
âwe should get some sleep.â you said with a yawn.
âyeah, we should.â
you and bang chan stayed up until 6 am that morning.
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